#“ ━━ ◤ if there’s a light at the end it’s just the sun in your eyes ; jessica hamby. ◢ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aestheticpebbles · 3 days

Text

Servus Dei

Pairing: Priest!AU Aegon II Targaryen x reader

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY! MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED, MDNI!, swearing, violence, murder, smut, religious/catholicism imagery/mentions/themes, priest+nun power dynamic abuse, dirty talking, light dubcon if you squint, fluff if you squint harder, use of alcohol, porn with plot, fingering, overstimulation, choking, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse.

Summary: Father Aegon arrived at your convent, but things become alarming once you realize he isn’t the priest he appears to be.

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: fic below the cut! not religious at all so please correct me if I messed anything up! also, not proofread… but enjoy! inspo from his cunty hair serving from s1.ep.8.

1548. Somewhere outside of Florence, Italy.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.“

The rosary beads clenched tightly laced around your slender fingers nearly gave way to a pinching sensation between your knuckles as you prayed under your breath, reciting ‘Our Father’ as you do every morning upon dressing into your white habits and joining the nuns and sisters at the first morning service of your convent.

However, you weren’t sent here upon your own bidding, rather than fulfilling the wish of your parents after they sought to nip your rebellious streak of your late teenage years in the bud after you expressed during a drunken fit that you instead wished to dance and drink until you dropped before marrying off to some Lord.

You knew your parents did this to reduce any scandalous likelihood of you, an unwed daughter of a newer-money noble family, boring a bastard, but you still did not forgive them for your new life of chastity and divine mercy worship. Yawn.

You were still considered to be relatively new to the convent as you were just beginning your second year of working towards your devotion to God and being tested on your postulancy, so you still wore white robes and veils rather than black. You felt as though you had done well in your studies of the faith thus far considering the circumstances in which you were brought here upon.

“Good morning sister,” Sister Hilda, another white-robed sister about a year older than you, smiled once the first service ended and you found a place next to her side while making your way to the dining hall for breakfast.

The sun’s morning rays that began to peek over the horizon illuminated the dining hall with a dim, blue hue as the world awakened. You both made yourselves plates of bread and cheeses before sitting down together. Talk was kept small and hushed between the two of you while discussing various scriptures and chores needed to be done.

“I heard the new priest is arriving this morning,” Sister Hilda suddenly whispered under her breath, my eyes flickering up to meet her gaze upon the sudden topic of a conversation that could be considered borderline gossip and would serve much to the dismay of any superiors if anyone would overhear the two white-robed and veiled young women conversing over such a topic.

Instead of scolding Sister Hilda once your gazes met, you proved your nature of still wearing the white fabrics rather than blacks by leaning in as well about an inch or so, quickly looking around to see if anyone was lingering nearby to eavesdrop before responding to her.

“Is that so?” Your eyebrow cocked up in surprise. There had been talks of a new priest that had recently left from an abbey outside of London, and was continuing his preach of faith now here with us at our nunnery as our current priest was, well, he was old, “have you…?”

“Within the hour, I heard,” Sister Hilda’s eyes lit up with excitement, proving her own nature as she still struggled with her own inner turmoil with such activities. You found the vow of celibacy at first to be something that you wouldn’t have to think twice about while you devoted yourself, but as time went on, you found yourself seeking repentance and trying to pray away the gnawing feeling you felt bubbling within sometimes that made you doubt your own worth in the eyes of the faith.

You nodded once, acknowledging her words carefully with a playful side smirk. Though gossip was highly discouraged, word still had many opportunities to be carried by the wind throughout the dormitories of your convent.

“Il suo nome?” Your voice dropped down low once more after a few moments, switching from English to Italian just to be safe when you asked Hilda ‘his name?’, but she only shrugged in response, unsure of the answer either.

After breakfast, like usual, you found yourself in the library as you were one of the few sisters who, thanks to your upbringing in a decently noble family, had been taught Latin. You often found means of completing your daily chores by aiding in the translation of Holy passages and texts.

Today, you had been handed a scripture to be translated by an older nun who always wore a signature grouch, so there wasn’t much to be said when you were given the dusty book made of animal skin and thick, waxy lacing that secured the spine.

A relic of the sort lost to at least 300 years, resurfaced once more only to become your problem to deal with when you immediately find yourself scowling under your veil at the faded ink on the ancient pages. God help me. You stood up and found yourself a dictionary in Latin just in case whoever wrote that damn pitiful book didn’t know what they were saying, much to the older nun’s dismay but you didn’t care as you sat back down.

Dipping your feather quill into a jar of black ink, you began your day’s work of translating the pages that were practically wanting to fall apart as you delicately turned over each one.

It possibly would have felt odd for another white-veiled sister like yourself to have been tasked with translating such an eerie text of those who wore multiple, yet all beautiful faces and how to ward them off, but like it was just another day, it was just another book of Latin words that you were tasked to translate into fresh ink of English literature between your obligatory meetings for daily prayers and masses with the others, and you’ve read worse.

Your legs were itching to stand after sitting down for an extended period of time, nearly a static-like burn radiating deep as you leaned back in your chair from your upright posture, slouching your shoulder forward for a grace moment with an exhale before standing upright once more properly in case the Abbess, Mother Esther, walked by.

Afternoon sunlight beams shone through a nearby window that you now stood in front of trying to warm yourself up from the cooler temperature of the library, your muscles easing against the windowsill as your wrists and fingers had ached for a little while as well.

Being on the 2nd floor of the building meant having a lovely view of the convent’s architectural layout and the courtyard within the open holdfast of about an acre or so. A few young black locust trees littered the acre, creating enjoyable spots for shaded rest you occasionally found yourself under, almost smiling to yourself when thinking about better times than translating 300+ year old scriptures from Latin to English about an ill-satiable apparition—it’s biblical name, Agneo, one who shapeshifts and requires to feeds from the sins of its prey. A book of complete lunacy that was a blessing in disguise as it gave you something to do.

However, the momentary bliss of recounting suddenly soured once you realized you were about to miss the 4th prayer service mass of the day when you looked down from the window and saw a huddle of those remaining outside waiting to file along inside in orderly fashion across the courtyard of your convent.

It was no use to try to rush out and attempt to make it, so you hesitantly let out a tense sigh and leaned against the window still, your eyes moving to ground below until you saw mainly atop skulls of Mother Esther dressed in her finest– and in tow, a man that nearly made your lips part upon the sight of his features after the involuntary oath of celibacy you took on.

Broad shouldered, his face even from above was sharp-featured, and hair blond as could be neatly combed across his hair. He is the most beautiful man you have ever laid your wretched eyes on, and the sight made your legs press together as you watched the two of them below you.

Once seeing him, you were desperate to see Sister Hilda to willingly break your vows of what your new lifestyle meant to share the gossip of sin, to gossip silly words that meant plenty well beneath the surface that meant for yourself at least to have plenty of reason to seek confession and repentance from His mercy in the foreseeable future.

During your brief moment of pure sin, or what sin at least means to you at the time, you let out a small gasp and moved away from the glass realizing the neat head of hair was slowly tilting upwards in an almost premeditated manner, and from the 2nd floor, his ice blue eyes burned hot dagger like the gates of hell straight into your soul for the second that you held his sudden eye contact.

As if he knew you were standing there above him and Mother Esther, as if he knew you had been leaning against the edge of the windowsill with your legs crossed and your thighs pressed together at the perfect angle while you watched them when you were supposed to be in the 4th prayer service.

Your heart was pounding in a mixture of adrenaline, anticipation, and … excitement. A certain feeling you haven’t felt since before being sent here. Desire.

Despite shifting away from your original stance next to the window, your vision couldn’t move away any further out of sight from him as the two of you kept your eyes locked.

Within that brief moment that felt like eternity and despite the temptation that threatened to fester within your neglected core now reigniting, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as your instincts inside your mind began screaming ‘flight’ but your feet were cemented in place while looking down into his cold, dead eyes.

Behind the decrepit Mother Esther’s back, the new priest held his eye contact with you with a stone-like expression of almost disgust until the corners of his lips tugged and curled upright into a smirk. One side of his lips tugged higher than the other side and it made your blood run cold despite the heat pooling between your legs.

You exhaled once his head turned to meet Mother Esther’s as she turned back around to him to point out the library, and the two of them continued on and you were finally able to move from the frozen stance you held.

You had managed to avoid the new priest, his name quickly learned by you through Sister Hilda to be Father Aegon—until you found yourself kneeling before him at the altar rails while he wore the same disgustedly amused expression while placing the communion bread into your cupped palms sitting upright.

“Amen,” you murmured softly, placing the wafer into your mouth as he extended his other hand and brought the cup of wine in front of you as you swallowed thickly.

“The blood of Christ, shed for you,” Father Aegon nearly purred, the sound of his voice speaking directly to you for the first time was intimidating enough, let alone the manner in which it rolled off of his tongue was enough to catch you off guard and leave you stunned at such a vocal display during a Holy service.

Your lips had parted a few centimeters due to your shock and your bottom lip quivered as you barely choked out another ‘amen’ in response while he pressed the rim of the chalice against the pillowed flesh.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the way he wears delivish smirks like he knows he's fluffing up another chicken house with unpreened, unruffled hens who live among cobwebs, or maybe it’s the way you can feel him staring straight down into your soul as you took a sip of the wine while holding eye contact with him up through your eyelashes.

After drinking the same wine since the day you first arrived and you had returned to your seat, you realized on your tongue that the aftertaste of the once bitter representation of the Blood of Christ was now sweet. Too sweet.

The type of sweet that makes the feeling of temptation to yearn for more not sound half bad even though you still found shame while you prayed in your seat until the end of the communion.

You actually managed well to avoid Father Aegon as he settled in and slowly took over hosting more and more masses and prayers over the next fortnight.

No matter the distance between the two of you, an unnerving fear always found you when in his presence and even more so if it was without your knowledge on a passing occasion or he could see you but you couldn’t see him. Since the day he arrived, you felt like you were no longer alone at any moment, always holding your breath to turn a corner like an accidental dance of cat and mouse for no real reason.

You’d be shunned if you dared speak the reason of your maintained distance being temptation, even if you were going such lengths avoiding him to resist such.

Father Aegon’s piercing gaze alone sent chills down your spine, enough to rattle the assembled vertebrae within the confines of your habits just like the one that coursed through you while you browsed the shelves of the library looking for works regarding astronomy to keep you company in the late hours after the Midnight Mass.

You didn’t need to see him to know he was likely stalking nearby, whispering with that strangely enticing demeanor he holds himself up with, and the way his perfectly plump lips were always cocked in some purse of amusement to offset the dark purple, sunken look to his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days, weeks.

Your own eyes had begun to mirror Father Aegon’s sullen look as well during your descent into the madness occurring within your mind when you started to lose sleep because of him sinking his claws into you even in your dreams filled with imagery of sin beyond your comprehension. The more time you spent trying to avoid him, the more he encroached upon every aspect of your life and you hadn’t so much but exchange momentary glances and proper greetings spoken hushed on your part.

After all, anyone would find holding eye contact difficult with one whom they have carnal, perverse dreams about, waking up panting in the middle of the night covered in sweat and an agonizing pool between your legs.

“What could possibly interest you at such an hour, sister?” The voice of the dreaded priest you desperately sought to avoid drew out from behind you, causing your shoulders to roll back into a stiffened posture to play off the chill that threatened to visibly shake you. You closed your eyes for a moment while goosebumps broke out across your skin hidden beneath the white fabrics before quickly reaching up to grasp the book you intended to grab and pulled it close to your chest before turning around to face him.

“Astronomy, Father,” you answered without nearly half a spine, mentally cursing yourself at your inability to hold yourself with dignity when subject to his commanding gaze.

Father Aegon never failed to not wear his smug smirk that seemed to compliment the sullen orbs that were half-lidded in what could only be described as a seductive manner. When you finished answering him and his smirk grew, you didn’t miss his tongue swiping across his pillowy bottom lip— both stained red… and the smell that belonged to that of alcohol.

You swallowed thickly once putting the puzzle pieces in place and your fingers gripped the corners of the book tighter and the edges dug into the creases of your fingers creating a pleasant stinging sensation to help stay grounded.

Father Aegon’s smug half-smirk was still etched on his mouth that sent another chill down your spine when his irises unmistakably fell from holding your gaze down to your own lips with those lazily-hooded blue eyes swirling with emotions beyond your comprehension.

Father Aegon was absolutely terrifying to be around, but although your fear didn’t directly come from him, your own body produces enough cortisol and epinephrine for an entire herd of corralled sheep by just being around him. Afraid of the fact that if he touched you right now, you know you wouldn’t be able to stop. Afraid of the fact that you know he may know how you truly feel deep down by just looking at you with those eyes that appear to be hiding an inferno from within himself.

“Copernicus…” Father Aegon suddenly murmured with a cock of his eyebrow as if he had posed the single word as a question rather than the affirmative tone he used when referencing a Polish astronomer whose works had caught your interest when accessible, “you like him, Sister?”

“He’s an accomplished astronomer and a fine mathematician,” you responded carefully, unsure of the waters of the moment and feeling the bile threatening to rise and expel which prompted you to kindly dismiss yourself wishing to depart to rest for the evening until he suddenly reached out as you turned to walk. His taut grip around your dainty wrist in comparison to his large hand was daunting and was an unexpected rush of surprise-horror when you were practically yanked back where you stood before him.

“Hm,” Father Aegon hummed in amusement, a flash of something eerie glazing over his lazily hooded eyes while his strong grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but not without his calloused thumbpad grazing gently across the delicate skin of the underside of your wrist, “why don’t you come by my office tomorrow evening? I have a piece that would interest you… brought it with me from when I met him briefly at Oxford.”

Your own eyebrow cocked at his words, nearly-half bewildered that a man like him went from such a prestigious place like the Oxford society to… priesthood in Florence where he, in the middle of the night, now was intoxicated and having you cornered like a rat subject to his mercy.

Your eyes flickered down to the tight grip he held on your arm and you dared to pull once more, and much to your surprise he let go. Looking back up at him, he was smirking with a strange sense of triumph as if he could already foresee the internal turmoil you would be rolling in all day tomorrow until you would eventually cave in within yourself to give in and seek him out for the sake of knowledge.

Wasn’t that the sin of Eve? Coaxed by the snake, the devil, to taste the forbidden apple of knowledge?

Father Aegon wouldn’t taste half as sweet as an apple, but a part of you knew deep down that dealing with a man like him comes with knowing the venom from his fanged canines would likely sting twice as bad in the days to come if you did not seek him out.

So like the loyal hound you were, there weren’t many inhibitions that stopped your fingers from clasping the golden ring hanging from a matching golden lion’s head mounted on the wooden door and knocking twice. You knew you had no business being here at this hour. You had stopped by this very office twice today, once before dinner, and again afterwards but left both times with only pursed lips and heightened anxiety. Evening. Evening. Evening.

“Sister…” Father Aegon grinned upon seeing the sweet lamb standing there outside of his door waiting so patiently for him like the good girl that he knew she is even if she couldn’t muster any words to properly greet him. He stepped out of your way with an outstretched palm directed towards an empty chair sitting on the other side of his desk, the open hand gesturing to you to sit, “please, come in.”

Shame and humility fueled the pace that drove your footsteps from the corridor and into his working office in a scurry, the fuel most delectable for sin to fester within and grow necrotic while Father Aegon shut the door behind you. You couldn’t miss the sound of the lock turning over as you focused on your breathing pattern and your fumbling fingertips toying with one another as you sat down and silently pulled your chair in under yourself.

It wasn’t the locking of the door that made your eyes widen, but watching him pick up a golden, jeweled chalice that sat on the edge of his desk with matching rings adorning his thick digits, taking a hearty swig while sauntering behind you and over to a large bookshelf on the left wall that likely carried prized works both owned by the convent and his finest pieces.

You kept your head straight for the most part, only tilting it slightly to be able to keep an eye on him in the corner of your peripheral through the thin white veil head covering, watching his ringed finger reach up to one of the shelves while the other hand held the chalice. The way he moved so freely was almost sensual in a way, his fingertip grazing the spines of the prized collection of knowledge as he searched using the dim orange glow emanating from the roaring hearth that danced as the flames waved.

“Tell me, sweet girl, what is it about the stars that calls to you… draws your attention so?” Father Aegon suddenly broke the silence that only hosted the soft crackling of the embers causing your head to angle slightly more in his direction. You swallowed thickly again, inhaling through your nose while watching his index finger curl around a medium-sized book and gently tug it free from the confines of the neat shelf.

“One can’t help but wonder who they are,” you answered shakily, referring to the stars themselves, the subconscious anxious habit of your fingertips toying with one another going full blast in your lap that had sparked back to life hearing the previous words of endearment he must addressed you with as if he was toying with you too, “what are they… what are they made of?”

Father Aegon nodded slowly with another hum of acknowledgment as he turned on his heel with his chin cockily angled, walking back over to where you sat on the other side of his desk and stepped next to your chair. He held out the book for you to take and you did after a moment of hesitation, taking the book delicately from him as your eyes danced over the intricate stitching and adhesives carefully applied that held the valuable text together.

He stood over you for a moment with one hand on the back of your chair, the other bringing the rim to his lips for another swig before he let go, much to your approval as you let out an exhale you didn’t realize you were holding, and stepped away to sit down in his own chair on the other side of the desk while you admired and he purred out, “the book… Copernicus’ heliocentric theories. One of the first copies given to me from Nicolaus himself. I’ll let you borrow it for the evening...”

You couldn’t hide the spark of interest that illuminated behind your eyes at the topic that you had been wishing to learn more about as the theories were still considered recent developments. A small smile crept onto your face but you quickly pursed your lips together to swallow your pride and triumph– something that didn’t pass by Aegon, but the suggestive tone towards the end of his final words didn’t pass by you either.

“Thank you Father,” you murmured softly, your thumbs grazing over the pressed letters of the title embossed and sealed by gold leaflets, “you are very gracious.”

Father Aegon only chuckled darkly, something you hadn’t heard yet until now and it was scarier to experience first hand than his empty, soul-piercing glare.

He took another sip of his wine before setting the chalice down on the desktop and leaning forward on his forearms with intertwined fingers and an unmistakable gleam in his wicked eyes, “I’ll tell you what Sister. I have heard nothing but good remarks regarding your performance… I’ll let you have it if you promise to take good care of it.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and your forehead scrunched in confusion, lips parting in shock but quickly stammering out a response to his words while gently placing the book down on the desk with a forced smile. A part of joining sisterhood was an oath of poverty despite your aversion to the lifestyle but your conditioning was taking over your frazzled mindset, and a book of that value had no business being in your possession good marks or not.

“Father I-I apologize, I can’t accept such a gift, you honor me but-I,” your tongue and lips failed to coordinate without an exasperated stutter while your brain misfired, only making Father Aegon’s lips curl further upwards in a devious smile.

“Call it a favor then,” Father Aegon replied with a low purr, his half-lidded eyes missing any trace of the blue pigment against the orange hue of the fire and the darkness of the world as he stood up, slowly stalking back around to where he stood behind your chair again.

“A…favor?” Your eyebrows dropped from the cocked expression of shock into one of weary alert as you tried to read him as best as you could, holding eye contact with him until he eventually always won with the inferno that reflected in his black holes for dilated irises while he walked to your most vulnerable side.

“A favor,” Father Aegon sluggishly murmured in response, his teeth baring in his amused grin when you flinched feeling the topside of his knuckle reach up from behind you and brush against your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered under his delicate brushing touch against your cheek, unable to comprehend a single thought in regard to how to react to such inappropriate behavior and gestures being exchanged, but after involuntary celibacy and conditioned shame, it only drove you further mad for the touch of a skilled lover.

It wasn’t until his index finger pressed against the underside of your chin to lift your head up and his thumb curling up to press against your bottom lip that you were violently dragged back to reality. Looking up at him while clutching the book against your chest, he smiled deviously as if he was a child with free reign in a candy shop.

He stepped in front of you to enter the small space available between you sitting in the chair and his desk, leaning against the edge as he twisted and reached back to grab the chalice he’d left behind, turning back to you. Your heart pounded in your chest watching him extend his hand, guiding the rim to your lips and raising the cup for gravity to let the rich, deep red juice funnel into your mouth.

Eyes widening, you realized he wasn’t relenting until you finished off the remnants of the chalice and having to swallow in faster lapses than expected to keep up with his antics causing you to choke softly.

You pursed your lips shut tightly with a bemused expression on your face between his actions and the sweet red wine, unable to save the small bead that gathered and trickled down from your lip to your chin, but Aegon was there to spare your white habits from any stains with a brush of his thumb collecting the alcoholic nectar and bringing it to his own lips to suck clean off.

“Tell me… why are you really here?” Father Aegon slurred out between tipsy snickers after releasing his thumb with a sickly sweet suckle like he knew exactly the effect he had on you and the reactions you were willing to give back with a little shove.

“My parents wished not for scandal,” you blurted out, almost like not caring how sloppy you spoke for the sake of your own honorable presentation.

“So, you liked to get around. You liked to have fun… you were a whore?” Father Aegon’s grin was wicked and curled up with a sense of malice as he gently caressed your cheek while you shared details about yourself to him. You knew he found some sort of satisfaction with your words by the way his teeth clenched like he was thinking hard through the intoxicated haze of his own mind.

“Um-,” your eyebrows furrowed again, a streak of anger shooting through you causing you to flinch again away from his hand, pulling out of his grasp on your chin as you stood up, holding out the book for him to take back, “I apologize Father this is highly inappropriate. I should go.”

Your abrupt reaction to his words seemed to replace the playful gleam in his eyes with one that teetered on the edge of malice and danger, one that made your blood run cold and panic flare through you when he dropped the golden chalice, grabbing the book with one hand and your wrist with the other, yanking you back down to sit again.

“We are not done talking, Sister,” Father Aegon snarled out, a sinister gleam in his eyes while he stood up straight and took the book fully from you to place down on the desk, turning back to you and letting go of your wrist only to take a hold of your chin once more, “I haven’t given you permission to dismiss yourself.”

“I-I am sorry, Father,” you sputtered out, unsure of how to respond to him and his firm, calculated grip that always reminded you he was one step ahead at any given point. Aegon only hummed in amusement, his moist tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip as he turned your head in his grip from side to side, studying the details of your face against the orange glow from the inferno of the fireplace.

“Let me see you show it…Prove it,” Father Aegon’s eyes lit up in deranged excitement while yours glossed over in confused horror, sitting frozen in shock while he kept his grip on your chin with one hand, the other reaching up seemly to lovingly caress your cheek only to fist a palm full of your white veil, forcefully undressing your dreadful headdress and revealing one of your secrets you hid from your other Sisters. Instead of cutting your hair short like the rest, you kept yours braided and secured beneath your headdress, the same one Aegon pulled off without hesitation that made your jaw drop in disbelief.

“I don’t understa-,” you cried out in a sudden frustration, angered that he was abusing the power dynamic he knew he held, then still having enough fuel inside him when daring to lay a hand on you in such an inappropriate manner and revealing your hair.

If your Sisters found out you hid your hair, you could suffer greatly socially, and Aegon just paved his way straight over without any second thoughts. Your words though were cut off when his fingers clutched your braids and yanked you back to your feet.

“Understand this, doll. I see the way you look at me, how you scurry away from me like a mouse, there’s nowhere you can hide from me,” Father Aegon taunted, his dilated pupils laced with delirium and sin as he maniacally giggled, “I know everything.”

Any protests or shrill shrieks that could have escaped your mouth would be forced to be made straight into Father Aegon’s mouth that nearly swallowed your face whole when his lips came colliding down on yours in a pre-established sloppy, yet demanding kiss.

You wished to want the will to release a frightful scream against his lips, to cry out in disgust, to thrash around violently in his concrete hold on you while he forced his tongue into your mouth after letting go of your chin and dropping down to your hip.

His grip quickly moved from squeezing your hip around to your backside, grabbing a fistful of your buttock and his other hand still holding and tugging on your hair to elicit a gasp while your palms were outstretched when pressing back against his firm chest, but you did none of those things as your mind began buzzing softly, signaling the beginning the swirling descent into a tipsy haze from the amount of alcohol he had you consume in one sitting.

In fact, you did the opposite once the taste of him resonated with you when you found yourself sucking back on his tongue instead of screaming and crying about your dignity, your outstretched palms bundling up the fabric of his neat, black collar between your fingers like a deserted whore needy for more. Because that’s exactly what you felt like, and the realization made you sick when you suddenly were spun around in his groping embrace to be lifted onto the desktop.

Father Aegon wasted no time shoving his knee between your legs and parting them to situate himself between your legs without breaking the heated exchange between your lips that caused soft groans to escape from the both of you.

His hand that held your buttock again wasted no time reaching under your skirts, hiking the fabric up while he held your whimpering skull in place by your hair as he kissed down your jawline, panting heavily in your ear when he traced up your inner thigh.

He smiled wickedly against the shell of your ear while you managed to let out a stifled moan feeling his fingertips slither their way past your small clothes dampened by your arousal, massaging agonizingly slow circles against your clothed clit, sending ripples of electricity through your body.

“For someone who took a vow of chastity, your cunt weeps like a virgin,” Father Aegon nibbled softly on your earlobe while your face contorted in pent-up pleasure and your mind swirled. In truth, you hadn’t truly consumed that much alcohol, but the effect he had on your mind caused the effect to feel 10-fold from the scent of his musk and the wine on his lips and tongue assaulting all of your senses out of nowhere.

Your fingers clutching onto his black button up gripped on for dear life feeling his fingers begin to variate their course from rubbing circles to teasing your slit before dropping down, his middle finger breaching fully past your entrance coaxing a shrill gasp from your throat that his lips were licking and placing open-mouthed kissing down. One of your hands jumped from his shirt to his bicep, wincing from the sudden scissoring penetration as he got to work establishing a pace.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight,” Aegon murmured quietly through a groan against your skin, your entrance clamping down almost painfully around the 2nd digit he teased your tight hole with for a moment before adding it in, his middle and ring finger moving in and out of you in overwhelming patterns that made you look at the back of your skull doubled with the feeling of his free hand suddenly groping your breast through your robes, pinching and rolling your clothed nipple between his fingertips, “this pussy ever been fucked?”

Your eyes rolled back straight and snapped wide open at the vulgarity of his words, your lips parted nearly in sheer shock that those words could all even be used together in a sentence, but your body was still betraying you as you ground your hips against his hand that was fucking you mercilessly. How this man became a priest was beyond you at this point, barely choking out a ‘yes’, his gaze darkening as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and he let go of your breast, reaching up behind the nape of your neck again.

Aegon’s hand found a hold your braided hair and twisted once more, a pained cry leaving your lips and your eyes screwing shut in another wince while his own lips were curled upwards and his eyes bright with a sinister intent, his other hand still pumping his two fingers in and out and you panted with a heaving chest.

“My name, sweet girl, say it right,” Aegon purred with an underlying, dangerous tone of voice that hid the true intentions that he was only giving you one chance to say it right despite multiple answers being applicable to stroke his ego while his fingers repetitively curling a ‘come hither’ motion within you.

“Yes sir,” you finally cried out, your spine arching as the coil deep within you threatened to build up. As if Aegon could read you like the back of his hand, he let go of your hair and reached around you as he swiped everything, including the prized book, clear from off of his desk.

He withdrew his fingers from your weeping cunt much to your dismay, only to be rendered speechless when he used both of his hands to grab and move you by your hips to the side of the desk, using one to shove your back down to lay on the surface and the other to hastily hiked up the skirt of your habits as his head dipped down, his lips kissing and his teeth nipping up your inner thighs.

You prayed that nobody was walking by Father Aegon’s office as they’d receive earfuls of lewd cries that fumbled from your throat in wails after he practically dove headfirst, your legs on his shoulders and his hands holding you in place by your thighs as his lips and tongue got to work swirling and sucking on your clit.

His platinum silver curls that were neatly parted down the middle, combed and slicked back behind his ears was disheveled within seconds as you reached down and carded through his hair, crying out in pleasure and awe at his ability to seem like he already knew every inch of you by heart.

“O-Oh my,” you squeaked out, your jaw agape as you tried to grind your hips against his face as he groaned delicious vibrations against your core, his tongue in place of his fingers greedily drawing your essence from your walls in filthy slurps that had you sobbing praises in a pleading mantra as you writhed in place.

“That’s it, good girl,” Aegon praised between quiet growls, kitten-licking your tented and overstimulated bud leaving you whining and yearning for more. The coil had begun to wind up tightly in your lower belly creating a burning sensation that threatened to snap like a taut rubber band.

“I’m gonna’ come,” you cried out softly and he chuckled darkly, nipping your sensitive flesh before suckling harshly that elicited a sharp yelp from your throat that quickly morphed into a wail of surprise as you flew headfirst into your first orgasm in almost a year. Aegon feasted and slurped every drop that expelled from your contracting cunt like a starved man, groaning in delight when your evidence of ecstasy from his touch spilled from your aching core and into his greedy mouth that caused your toes to curl painfully.

Father Aegon quickly stood up, not bothering to wipe his fingers and chin that were still glistening with the residue of your orgasm causing a deep blush to form on your flushed cheeks as you slowly came back to reality from the sound of his belt unbuckling.

Aegon hastily reached into his pants and pulled his throbbing cock free from the confines of his black dress trousers, watching his beautifully plump lips parting when he slapped the angrily flushed head against your weeping cunt a few times. His vile actions were so bewildering you were rendered speechless once more, unable to formulate words when looking up at him with bleary eyes as he fondled your cunt for a few seconds, gathering your slick and smearing it across his tip and down his thick shaft waiting impatiently to fuck you in half.

“This is wrong. I-We shouldn’t do this. I don’t want this. God for-,” you managed to blurt out in soft whimpers, lying to yourself to try to hold onto the last shred of dignity you had while shaking your head only earning a sadistic smile in response from Father Aegon as he cut you off.

“You don’t want this? You weren’t the same girl watching me, pressing her thighs together as she hid in the library? Stupid girl, you’re so desperate and touch-starved, I could smell your cunt from outside. Your False God isn’t here. He can’t save you,” Aegon cooed softly, shutting you up immediately. Despite his cruel words, his tone of voice was almost sweet if his hand wasn’t guiding the head of his cock back to your entrance and you braced yourself with a shrill gasp while he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours while he giggled maniacally under his breath sending chills of fear down your spine.

Father Aegon whispered in a taunting sneer as he continued to threaten you in a gravelly voice under his breath, the stench of wine still lingering on his tongue mixed with your release, “oh, pretty girl, the only God here is me,” and with that, he pistoned his hips forward.

A sharp hissing cry fell from your lips feeling the tip of his cock parting your neglected walls, splitting you from the inside out as your jaw hung agape and his eyes were wide– almost deliriously so as his own jaw hung agape too as if he was breathing out the energy of the cries carried out by your exhales. Like his hand, his hips made work establishing a steady pace as he fucked you open for him, drawing raw shrieks from your diaphram that forced him to clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon snarled against the back of his hand as your eyes rolled back, his lips kissing the corner of your parted lips when he finally let go of your mouth after the initial burn within your core dissolved and your sobs died down. His plump lips continued to kiss down your jaw, suckling and nibbling up and down your neck as you moaned and cried out shamelessly.

His words were absolutely vile and defiling and he knew it only spurred your innocent heart further, his hand that was pressed against your mouth dropping back down to grope your breast as he fucked you deeply, “God your cunt was made for my cock. Fuck it’s so fuckin’ tight– you like it when I talk to you like that? You like being fucked like some needy slut? ‘Course you do. What would your Sisters think if they found out what their whore pupil was doing in here?”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you suddenly started blabbering out in response despite your own legs hiking up around his hips to draw him in closer, your hands reaching up and gripping onto whatever you could while you rocked back and forth to his merciless motions.

“Yes you can,” Aegon panted breathlessly against your skin, his tongue swiping across your collarbone as he grunted over and over in his own world of desire, the lewd sound of skin slapping and your cunt squelching was foul in harmony with the considerably romantic blazing of the fireplace while he kissed his way back up your neck and caught your lips in another fiery, sloppy kiss between grunts and moans and cries of pleasure.

He murmured against your lips and his free hand not holding you down against the desktop in place by your breast being kneaded between his fingers, reaching between the two of you with his other hand and rubbing furious circles on your overstimulated clit, “say my fuckin’ name. give it all to me.”

“Aeg- I’m,” you cried out against his lips trying to obey his command to use his name while feeling the coil quickly wind tight once more as he effortlessly fucked you apart. As you came, stars littered your blacked out vision as you trembled and writhed, your spine arching pathetically trying to gather as much friction as possible while you shook in pleasure. Aegon moaned lowly feeling your walls contract and squeeze his cock as he continued without stopping, fucking you straight through the waves of ecstasy that left you feeling as though you had to piss everywhere.

You could not have cared any less about any repercussions of your undoing with this man tonight— until he pulled out, flipped you around and bent you over the desk, plunging back inside of your cunt from a new angle causing a mewl to rip through you.

But as Aegon was turning you around, you suddenly looked behind Father Aegon for the first time and took in the image that could have fueled your nightmares for the rest of eternity. His shadow against the flames of the hearth’s inferno illuminated the two of you with shadows, except two massive wings stood above Aegon shadow as you mewled out incomprehensible words of confusion through the haze of pleasure that wracked your mind.

“Aegon,” your voice cracked, your eyes flickering to a mirror hanging on the wall dead ahead of the two of you, finally seeing Father Aegon for who he was finally through another lense and the sight alone made a scream of fear tear through you, but once more his hand came clasping down on your mouth and another sharp cursed reprimand dripping in poison was hurled at you from behind. The reflection of the man that had you bent over like a plaything, pistoning his thick cock roughly in and out of your aching cunt in the reflection of the mirror was unlike any creature you’d ever laid eyes on before.

In the reflection, while your face was streaked with tears and flushed in terror, his face looked nothing like what you saw with your own eyes, his reflection having beady black eyes, almost paper white skin, teeth long and sharp like fanged razors and his hands with long, clawed digits. You couldn’t miss the tall, pointed and curly black horns and the almost impressive black feathered wings that slowly rose and outstretched in the air after you said his name.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from the mirror even after he said your name, his hand eventually let go of your mouth and roughly grabbed your jaw, holding your head steady. Tears flowed hot from your eyes as you tried to thrash in his hold but it was no use as he chuckled wickedly above you, his pupils blown wide but it was no comparison to the dark, gaping holes you saw in the reflection of the mirror.

Father Aegon was no Father, no priest at all, learning within seconds that life was in fact cruel like that. Was there truly a God now realizing you had the entire situation practically spelt out for you when you translated that ancient scripture in the library, but you were too naive to realize the foreshadowing. The name of the shapeshifting apparatus isnt Agneo. It’s fucking Aegon.

This revelation truly meant only one thing: Aegon was a demon, and you, by saying his name, sealed off the deal and selling him your soul, his hand angling your chin up and to the side to press his lips down on yours, his tongue working your mouth apart once more, grunting against your lips when his pace faltered.

You felt your womb grow heavy while he panted and mewled, his wretched seed spurting from the head of his cock as his hips twitched between stilled moments, painting your walls as he moaned into the crook of your neck. You thought it’d be the end of the night, your mind too frazzled to even comprehend what to do next as your blurry eyes cracked open from being scrunched shut.

But Aegon’s nightmarish reflection remained the same, his smile sinister and evil as his snakelike sharp, black tongue trailed up the side of your cheek as his hand kept its tight grip on your chin to hold you steady while he collected your salty tears.

“Aegon…Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered pathetically, trying to claw at his taloned grip on your face and it almost struck a chord within his despicable body as he chuckled darkly, placing a soft kiss on your trembling cheek.

“I think it’s too late for that, sweet girl,” Aegon purred softly, your doe eyes wide with horror watching in the reflection of his other hand reaching up, his clawed talon delicately moving a stray lock of hair from your face. He actually admired you, pleading through tears and drool and all, but the moment had to end at some point as his clawed hand caressed your temple and he murmured softly against the apple of your cheek.

“Just know this though, so far, I think you were my favorite,” Aegon kissed your pillowed flesh for the last time after vocalizing his odd apology that almost felt genuinely sentimental before his talons dug into your chin and your temple to hold you steady as you cried out in protest, then silenced for eternity after his wrists rolled and snapped your neck.

His deflating cock was still buried to the hilt within you as you dropped lifelessly against the desk, and the demon removed himself from his latest victim with a triumphant smile. He hastily readjusted himself and your skirt to cover your modesty, not that you were alive anyway to care, as he sat back down in his seat.

Father Aegon kicked up and crossed his legs on the desk while pouring himself another chalice of wine, continuing to admire your lifeless expression of shock while your pupils slowly dilated, and the blood that slowly dribbled out of your nostrils and out from your lips onto the desk, dripping down onto the floor while your lost soul descended to the pits of Hell with that same sinister smirk he wore the first time he laid his eyes on you.

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen ii #tomglynncarney #aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #tom glynn carney x reader #tom glynn carney smut #hotd #targtowers #hotd smut #alternate universe

203 notes · View notes

llamagoddessofficial · 2 days

Note

Beach episode with the bad Sanses

Why does "take my idiot henchmen to a secluded beach to blow off some steam" 100% sound like something Nightmare would do? He'll bring you along too. The boys can't relax when their beloved favourite human isn't there. You're like a therapy kitten a bunch of giant terrifying fighting hounds refuse to go anywhere without.

Horror doesn't like deep water, too many bad memories of a certain fish monster, so he's staying away from the sea. But he does like the sound it makes... the waves are wonderful, they're something other than his own thoughts to concentrate on. He'll sit on the sand, with a hat over his face, listening to the ocean and enjoying the sun soaking into his old bones. Might even fall asleep. For the love of God, keep Killer away from him, his 'prank' attempts on the sleeping giant will not end well for anyone. Don't let him catch you when he's looking tired - he'll drag you up against him and snore into your hair until the sun goes down.

It's weird to see Dust without his hood. You half expected him to even wear it to the beach, but it makes sense he wouldn't. There's enough dust on that thing already, he probably doesn't want to get sand on it as well. He'll spend most of his time resting in the shade (why is he wearing sunglasses when he doesn't have eyes?), but if you ask him to, he'll venture into the sun. You're the only one who can convince him to do anything fun. Out of all of them, he's the one who'll go get you something to eat. He'll randomly disappear, then quietly return with ice cream, or crepes, or smoothies. Just three, though - one for him, one for you, and one for Horror because it'd just be rude to not get him food. He won't tell Killer where he got it.

Killer is having a great time. He will be ogling your beach outfit, it doesn't matter what it is, he'll stare and flirt as often as he possibly can. He wants to play volleyball or football, have you bury him in the sand, take stupid posed pictures, stay until sunset and start a barbecue, he's having an amazing time. This is his dream. If you can keep him company, please do, because it'll keep him on good behaviour - if you leave him alone for five minutes he's going to start annoying the other skeletons. By the end of the day someone is dunking him in the ocean, at least once. Probably Dust.

Nightmare will sit on a chair, under the darkest umbrella you've ever seen, without a speck of sunlight reaching him. He won't engage with the other skeletons at all and it seems like they know to give him his space. He'll be delighted to chat to you, if you come up to him, but other than that he just... vibes there, alone. Makes you wonder why he even came to the beach, since he clearly will do whatever it takes to avoid light.

He bought you along because the other skeletons want you around, sure. But he also bought you because he could tell you needed the stress relief. He likes just sitting back and listening to you enjoying yourself, watching the happy feelings roll off you - they're nice to see, even if he can't eat them.

Not that he'll ever say it aloud, but he planned this day out almost entirely for you.

#llamagines #bad sanses #really wouldnt be surprised if killer tries to prank horror #and horror responds by temporarily overcoming his fear of the ocean and carrying him into the water

308 notes · View notes

lovelookspretty · 3 days

Text

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

View all comments

user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

245 notes · View notes

jellyfishbug · 22 hours

Text

SEATBELTS FIRST

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot ! this is part two of pop the hood f'me not proof read.

content; mechanic!chris, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected (wrap ur shit or ill catch you), spit, slight dumbification, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names, swearing this one is shorter because theres less build up. anyway, sorry for edging you guys, heres pt 2 :)

I got the call around six thirty the next day.

I was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter island in the center with an apple in my mouth when my phone started to buzz in my back pocket. I set my belongings down and struggled until I finally tugged it out of the tight sleeve and glanced at the screen, an unknown number displayed at the top.

I swiped my thumb to answer, pressing it up to my ear and taking the apple out of my mouth to speak, "Hello?"

"hey, it's Chris," I feel my eyes go wide, the apple that was once in my hand dropped onto the counter with a thud. "your truck is good to go- I can drop it to you when I get off."

I swallow, my mouth now paper dry as I reach to stop the apple from rolling off the counter. "Okay- yeah, sounds good. Thank you,"

I could hear the smile in his voice as he laughs lowly before replying, "can't wait."

The line went dead, indicating that he'd hung up. I lowered my phone away from my ear and placed it on the counter next to the apple and stared at it, momentarily averting my gaze to the clock a couple seconds later. He gets off soon .

I'd felt nervous about picking up the car; the night before, when I'd had to reluctantly deny his advances in the backseat to get home on time, he understood and said something along the lines of ''S okay, its not the last time i'll see you, m' sure of that."

But regardless, I felt even more awkward when I had to make him park at the end of the street so i could walk up and make it appear like I'd taken the bus to my dad, rather then have him watch me pulling up with a random kid in a car he'd never seen before. Chris just laughed and nodded at my request, pulling over near the sidewalk at the end of my street and leaning over to press a kiss on my lips, smiling at me when we parted. He opened my door for me with the other hand and said, "I'll call you tomorrow,"

And he did.

About an hour after he called, I saw my truck roll up through the kitchen window above the sink. Chris sat in the driver's seat, and I watched like an idiot as he popped open the drivers door and hopped down, running his hand through his hair mindlessly.

He was wearing a black t shirt that hugged him, partnered with a pair of light wash levi's. His hair wasn't hidden by a bandana this time; it hung loosley, some strands hanging on his forehead and eyes.

My keys were firm in his grip as he walked up the stone pathway. I almost forgot I needed to answer the fucking door, too busy watching him duck his head to avoid the part of my roof that hovered over the front porch, tooth pick in his mouth as he pressed two knuckles to the door and knocked lightly.

The noise of his hand meeting the wooden door startled me back into reality - I shuffled around in the kitchen for a second before I walked up to the front door, taking a deep breath as I twisted the knob and opened it.

His head snapped towards me, a smile appearing on his face whilst he looked me up and down. I did the same, sizing him up with a nervous expression before finally turning it into a grin to match his.

"Hi," he said softly, taking the tooth pick out of his mouth and leaning against the doorway. Before I could even respond, he opened his palm, and I glanced down to see a pair of keys.

I took them from his grasp and grinned, pressing my bottom lip between my teeth. "Thank you," I paused, "For fixing the truck and for bringing it."

He nodded. "Not a problem."

I look away momentarily, glancing between him and the setting sun behind him. I turn around to look at the clock again; 7:34. My dad isn't home for a couple more hours, and I really don't want Chris to leave yet.

He raises his eyebrows at me once my eyes were back on him, like he already knows what I'm about to ask.

"D'you wanna go for a drive?"

A grin is back on his face, this one open-mouthed so I can see his teeth as he licks his lips and nods.

"Absolutely,"

I drove this time. Chris sat in the passenger seat, grinning stupidly with his hand out the window resting on the roof from the outside. The windows were rolled down, and as a result the wind was blowing through the car loudly, leaving no room for any sound between us besides laughter.

Finally, we started to approach a red light. Once we rolled to a stop, a he turned to look at me, toothpick still resting in his mouth. I kept my eyes ahead, nervous to look back, but once i realized he wasn't going to look away until i did, I finally glanced over at him.

His grin was still there, cocky as ever. He took his hand of the roof and let it back in through the window, resting his chin on against his palm.

"Whatch'ya thinkin about?" He asked, his voice soft and curious.

I leaned back against my seat with my head hanging off the head reat slightly, pausing for a moment before answering honestly;

"Yesterday."

He swallowed thickly, and my eyes followed the movement in this throat. He turned to face the road and dropper his head slightly to huff laughter through his nostrils, "Oh?"

I felt my stomach flip, and an excited feeling flooded my gut. I nodded slowly and Chris shifted in his seat, a flustered expression on his face at my words. It wasn't flirting - it felt too lewd to be flirting. But whatever it was, It was fun.

The silence was sharp enough to cut skin. I almost wanted to jump out of the car and leave it running in the intersection with Chris in it, but instead, i felt a pang of satisfaction when Chris raised his eyebrows and asked, "What time do you need to be home?"

The clock on the dash told me it was already 8:30. At this point, It wouldn't make sense for me to go home anyway, and I didn't plan on ending this conversation anytime soon. "Whenever,"

He nodded, a simple acknowledgment of what i said, but he didn't say anything else. The light turned green, and we were moving again. The wind blowing was loud, but quieter now; quiet enough that i could still hear him.

"D'you remember what i said yesterday?" He finally said, turning to stare at me.

I thought for a second, all the words - both filthy and sweet - that we'd said the day before. "One thing specifically?"

He nods. I want to remember, but considering the sheer amount of possibilities he could be referencing, I shake my head.

He licks his bottom lip. "I said I was gonna get you off- but you had to be home . ."

My breath hitches in my throat, and my grip on the steering wheel turns knuckle white. I nod my head. He hasn't looked away, and his gaze is starting to feel like it's burning my skin with every glance.

"You don't have to be home now,"

It came out breathier than he meant it to - I'm sure of that.

Immediately, my mind goes to how uncomfortable shuffling around in the backseat is going to be, especially when theres still daylight and someone could see us, but as if Chris is reading my thoughts, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth again to speak. "Pull over- ill drive."

I nod, not wasting a second to pull over once we're out of the intersection. I pop the drivers door open, leaving it open and walking around to the other side to switch seats, closing the passenger door loudly.

Chris steps up into the driver's seat and shifts the gear, "My place, yeah?"

I'm nodding before he's even done talking.

We're moving again, and he makes no effort to hide his excitement, my eyes darting to the speed tick on the dashboard as he swerves dangerously through and across lanes.

I'm almost nervous my car will end up back in the shop before we even get to his house with the speed we're going, but if it means I get to see him again, it doesn't sound so bad.

His hand moves to rest on my leg, the other carelessly gripping the steering wheel with occasionally glances in the rear view mirror, as well as occasional glances my direction. I pretend not to notice, but the anticipation is burning in my core at the feeling of his eyes grazing my frame.

Before I even noticed we were in a neighborhood, we pull into a driveway. Chris pushes the gear into park and twists the keys in the ignition until the truck is off and glances at me, a knowing smile on his face.

"You good?"

I must've looked red and flustered, and part of me knew that because of how hot my face felt, but embarrassment still lingered in my thoughts as i nodded.

"Yeah,"

He shakes his head and laughs lightly at my response, turning to open the door and step down. I watch as swings around to my side of the car to open mine, reaching a hand out to help me step down, smiling once my feet are on the concrete and the door shut behind me.

As we approach the front door, he fiddles with the keys on his carabiner before finding an orange one with "house" written on it in black sharpie. He unlocks the door and opens it with a small creak, glancing on either side of the living room before turning back to me, signaling me to follow him inside with a tilt of his head.

We walk up the stairs and down a small corridor before reaching the room at the end of the hall, wooden and covered in stickers. He opens it and waits for me to enter behind him.

Once i'm inside, i glance around to take in my serroundings; his bed is in the right corner of the room, neatly made with a handful of pillows carelessly thown against the headboard. Theres a small desk at the other end of the same side, and a handful of license plates carefully hung up above the window. Theres sports memorabilia too, some hockey sticks in a pot and a framed jersey hung near the closet.

I step closer to the frame, tracing my fingers along the glass to examine the fabric. "You play hockey?" I ask, glancing back at him with my hand still against the hung jersey.

He laughs, walking closer to me with his hands in his pockets. "Used too- haven't really played much since I graduated,"

I nodded with a hum of understanding, letting my hand fall back to my side as i walked back towards him. He studies my movements, and once i'm in front of him, i reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind is ear. I purse my lips, eager to fill the silence thats suffocating the both of us. "D'you street race?"

He makes a puzzled face, evidently surprised at the random question, eyebrows furrowed as he tilts his head at me. "Uh, yeah. I mean- sometimes with friends, or on roads in the middle of nowhere for shits and giggles. Why?"

I shrug. "You just... go really fast," my hands are still running through small strands of his hair. "And you swerve- but it's controlled and clean, like it's really familiar to you, or like you do it a lot - so I was just curious."

He grins, raising his eyebrows and stepping ever so slightly closer to me to peer down at me through hazy vision. "You starin at me or somethin?"

I feel my face flush pink and I roll my eyes, my hand finally falling away from his hair. "Maybe."

One of his hands leaves his pocket to draw circles on the waist of my jeans, still eyeing me mischievously. "I don't necessarily like racing for money," he says, his tone honest. "I just like the adrenaline of it- feeling your heartbeat in your throat n' shit. Its fun."

He gently drags one of his hands down my lower pack and puts it into my back pocket, pulling me closer to that we're pressed together completely. "Maybe I'll take you sometime,"

Before I can respond enthusiastically and tell him how much i'd love that, he hooks his other hand on my face with his fingers grazing the back of my neck, pressing his lips against mine.

I'm alarmed for a second until finally kissing him back, my hands on either side of his head, brushing against the stubble on his face. He's kissing with intention; almost impatient, like he's been thinking about this just as much as i have.

It's not long before he's sliding his tongue into my mouth, tilting his head to kiss me deeper, the taste of marlboro red's strong and tangy on his lips. He groans against my mouth, the sensation making a hushed whimper escape me.

He's so fucking cocky with everything he does, the smirk on his lips condescending and teasing as he bites down on my bottom lip in between kisses almost hard enough to bruise. His hand slides out of my back pocket to rest against my back, pushing my lower half against him.

I pull back for a split second, eyes opening to glance into his momentarily, "you're a really good kisser."

He raises his eyebrows, and in an arrogant tone he responds, "oh yeah?"

I nod, a whiny noise building in my throat, growing tired of the absence of his pink lips and leaning back in quickly to kiss him again.

Faces still attached, he spins us around so that my back is facing my bed, walking us slowly towards it until my legs hit the frame and i plop down, frowning at the loss of the kiss.

He tugs at the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head before lowering to place one more kiss on my pouting lips, chuckling when my hands start to fiddle with his belt. "Lie down, sweetheart."

I furrow my eyebrows, "But I-"

He shakes his head, "No," he says, lowering to his knees in front of me. "It's my turn, isn't it?" His fingers trail along the waist of my jeans, fingers fiddling with the button. "Told you i'd get you off, didn't i?"

I lower my back against the bed, propped up on my elbows to eye him as I nod slowly. He grins, dragging my zipper down and wrapping his fingers beneath the fabric of my jeans, tugging them until they're completely off and forgotten on the floor next to him.

He leans down to trail open kisses from my stomach to directly above my core, then on the inner plush skin of my thigh, biting his teeth down lightly into the sensitive skin and swirling his tongue against the mark.

My fists curl against the sheets as I whine from the feeling of the bite, watching as Chris glances up at me with wild eyes through his eyebrows. He lifts his head and wraps his hands around my upper thighs, tugging until i'm resting directly at the end of the bed with my legs on either side of his head.

He tugs at the lining of my underwear, glancing up at me. "This okay?"

I nod quickly. "Please,"

He impatiently pulls them off me and tosses them to the side before continuing the previous action of kissing at my legs, and I start to squirm below him, impatient and restless.

"Patient," he says lowly. "We're not in a rush anymore, remember? 'Wanna take my time with you."

It's sweet; it is, but when he's hovering above where I'm aching the most lazily pressing kisses anywhere but where i need them, it just feels like torture.

"Chris, please, i don't care- jus' need you-" I'm cut off with a slight yelp as he's biting down again, harder this time, savoring the feeling of the soft skin in his mouth before pulling away and all but shoving two of his fingers into my mouth.

I swirl my tongue around his digits, the length of them causing them to brush against the back of my throat harshly enough to gag slightly, but i maintain composure as he slides them back through my lips.

He prods them at my entrance, lowering his head again to finally lap his tongue against my neglected clit. My head knocks back with a whine, lower lip between my teeth as he messily plays with the bundle of nerves.

He's cruel with his mouth, occasionally licking stripes up my cunt messily and groaning. My eyes roll into my head at the feeling of his stubble brushing against my inner thighs, feet shaking against his back as I dig my nails into the cotton sheets beside me. "Wet jus' for me, huh, baby?" he grumbles, his words muffled by me.

I part my lips to answer, but my jaw goes slack as he presses his spit covered fingers into my entrance, his mouth still latched to my slick folds as he pumps them in and out an agonizingly slow pace.

"Fuck," I hiss, one of my hands flying up to grip his hair. "Oh m' god, Chris." My back arches up slightly, but Chris firmly presses his free hand down on my hip, forcing me back against the bed and pressing his nails into the flesh to keep me still.

His fingers speed up the pace, and be grins against me as I whimper pleadingly. He lifts his head for a second to speak. "Yeah? Feel good?"

"So good," I babble, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair as he wraps his lips around my clit, swirling his tongue aggressively as his fingers continue to pump at a stupid pace, whimpers and desperate cry's of his name flooding out of my mouth.

"close?" He taunts, watching as my legs shake on either side of him. He replaces his tongue with his thumb and rubs circles on my clit. "gonna cum for me?"

The lewdness of his words makes the knot in my stomach get impossibly tighter, and I nod helplessly. My legs are aching to close as i chase the high, but Chris keeps them open effortlessly.

I finally snap as his fingers curl against a specific spot inside of me, a loud cry ripping from my throat whilst he continues to sloppily thrust his fingers and mutter praises. He finally stops when i grip his wrist tightly, squirming and whimpering in discomfort from the overstimulation.

He licks his fingers clean and extends back to his full height to lean down and kiss me, "You good?" he asks genuinely, the palm of his hand pressed against my stomach as he rubs his thumb back and forth soothingly.

"Really good," I respond, a warm feeling in my chest when he smiles cheekily. "Good," he says, standing back up to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down to his ankles, stepping out of them and leaving them bunched on the floor.

My lower lip mindlessly rests between my teeth, my expression flushed as i watch him palm himself through his boxers. He takes them off too, stepping closer to place his hands on top of my knees and glance down at me.

He wraps his hand around my wrist to gently tug me up, his fingers tugging at the end of my tank top a a silent request. I lift my arms and he pulls it off an throws it next to me. He leans down to kiss me again, his finger on my chin to lift my head up. "You're really pretty," he hums. I flush pink, the feeling of his eyes glancing over my frame stirring unfamiliar and needy feelings in my gut.

He cups his hand below my mouth, and when I glance between him and his palm dumbly, he clarifies. "Spit for me, sweetheart."

It felt almost dirty; too dirty. But when you compared it to me knee deep in the driver's seat of his car with his cock halfway down my throat and ducking to avoid the steering wheel a mere day prior, it felt like light work.

I pooled spit at the front of my mouth and spit into his palm. "Good girl," he hummed, eyes shifting down to his cock as he pumped it with his saliva coated hand.

He stepped closer, parting my legs and aligning himself with me before glancing at me. "Tap my thigh if you want me to stop, 'kay?"

"Okay," i say, bracing myself as he slowly starts to push himself inside me. My grip on the sheets turns my knuckles white, wincing at stretch, my walls clamping down around him.

Chris digs his teeth into his lip, and he pauses, glancing at my pained expression and my bottom lip that is also snug between my teeth, brows furrowed. "I know, baby. S'okay-doin' so good for me,"

I whine and shift below him as he finally bottoms out, his pressed firmly against me with his dick buried to the hilt. I want to squirm away and tell him its too much, but the painful stretch quickly turns to the pleasure of being full to the brim, and i dig my nails bluntly into his forearm.

"Fuck, so big," I gasp, looking at my lower stomach to see the clear bulge. Chris grins, and i know i'm boosting his ego, but the brain fog flooding through me isn't allowing me to bite my tongue.

"Takin' me so good," he groans lowly, hands still gripping my thighs as he starts to move, and i moan breathily at the feel of his cock dragging against my gummy walls.

He starts to pick up his speed, his grip on the sheets on either side of me tightening as his head hangs to watch my blissed out expression as moans escape my swollen lips, the grip i have on his arm turning animalistic. "S'good, fuck,"

He pulls his arms away to wrap around my legs to go faster, "Oh my god- Fuck," he grunts, and I mewl when he presses his hand down on my lower stomach to feel himself, applying just enough pressure to make my back arch, his dick pounding relentlessly into my gut.

"Yeah? You like that? 'Like how deep I am, baby?" He asks in a way that makes it so rhetorical when he watches my hands brush against his lower stomach mindlessly with pitful hiccups and whines escaping me. I want to answer him, but no words will form.

I'm starting to feel glad he didn't flip me over to fuck me from behind - the view of his pretty face and lips with his jaw dropped in a gasp was too good, and it only made my squeeze around him tighter, desperate to be filled.

"Too dumb on my cock?" he teases at my lack of response, letting his hand fall against my aching cunt to rub lazy circles on my sensitive clit. I squeeze my thighs together with a loud mewl, the pleasure raking through me like a wave.

"so close," I choked out.

It only encouraged Chris to press my knees closer to my chest, dropping his weight against me to fuck deeper. My mouth drops open silently as my legs begin to shake, the twist in my stomach snapping with a loud cry. My body trembles beneath him, his movements not halting as he fucks me through the high. I go limp below him, still whimpering as his thrusts turn sloppy. "Fuck, gonna cum," he rasps, pumping slower but deep. "Where d'you want it, baby?" i wrap my legs around his torso, muttering a 'inside, please.'

He curses under his breath. "Inside you, huh?" he chuckles, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "S'that what you want?"

I nod rapidly, "Please, 'need it."

That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he presses his hips firmly against me, coating my walls in thick spurts of white. His nails are digging into my legs, panting heavy while he presses lazy, tired kisses to my legs before leaning down and doing the same on the side of my head.

We stay like that for a second, catching our breath. I feel an ache growing in my legs as they lazily lower onto the bed when he leans off of me slightly, glancing down through hazy vision. He strokes his hand on my stomach affectionately, his touch soothing and sweet as he slowly pulls himself out, whispering apologies when i wince at the sudden soreness.

"You okay?" He hums. My arms fall to lay against my flushed face as i nod, swallowing to aid my dry throat before answering a small "yeah," He brushes thick strands of my hair out of my face with his index finger before lowering his fingers to cup my chin, "Gonna get somethin to clean you up, 'kay? Hold on."

He disappears for a minute into his bathroom, coming back moments later in a fresh pair of boxers with a clean, damp washcloth in hand. He gently parts my legs, carefully cleaning the mess we'd made off of me, his thumb rubbing circles on my upper outter thigh with his free hand.

When he's finished, he tosses the towel on top of his hamper, and then turns back, smiling at my relaxed expression. He puts his hands on either side of my frame, leaning down to press a kiss on my red, bitten lips. When he pulls away, he hovers just a couple inches above my face, the chain around his neck brushing against my chest.

"Next time you have truck troubles," he murmurs, his gaze flicking up to mine. "Don't come to the shop - jus' call me, ill come pop the hood for you."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated! ! criticism is also appreciated, its how i improve, but please be nice. links below . . . masterlists ! guidelines / info !

#Spotify #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #mechanics are sexy #jellyfishbug 🌺

179 notes · View notes

gothgoblinbabe · 2 days

Text

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x afab!/fem reader

divider credit

Warnings: MDNI/18+, mostly porn w little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), afab!reader, being referred to as a girl, use of pet names, very light choking, filming sex/making a sex tape, swearing, I believe that is it but if i missed any pls lmk <3 I also didn’t proofread this one as much as I usually do so forgive me for any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Summary: [based on this ask] I don’t know what to really say for this one cause I feel like the ask explains it perfectly lol, but part 1 is here if you want to read it but this also works as a stand alone thing. I did tweak a couple of things from the ask but nothing major!

Word count: 5.5K

Since you and Logan had gotten to know each other a little better, you were over his and Wade’s apartment sometimes more than your own. He’d begun to make himself comfortable in yours too, finding himself waking up in your decorative sheets with the morning sun shining onto the pictures taped to your wall. It was a comfortable routine you’d started; waking up in each other's beds, going out to eat at some 24 hour diner when neither of you could sleep, talking with each other till the sun came up. Weekends with Wade even turned to weekends with Wade and Logan, your legs slung over your boyfriend's lap with his arm around your shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, though, you and Wade would not budge on Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled next to you on the couch, quirking an eyebrow at you and his roommate, “what the hell are they famous for, anyway?”

“Well,” you began to explain, raising the remote to mute the TV, “their dad was a really famous lawyer, he defended O-”

“Nope,” Wade piped up from beside you through a mouthful of chips, “you know that’s not the real reason they’re famous, cupcake.”

You turned to narrow your eyes at him, “C’mon, you don’t mean -”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes flickering from you to the muted TV so he could read the subtitles without missing a beat.

“What?” Logan finally asked, clearly frustrated that neither of you would clue him in.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and laughing a bit to yourself, “Okay, so, Kim? The main sister?”

He nodded, “the one with the huge -”

“Yes, her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, she used to date this singer Ray J and in the early two thousands, they made a sex tape. It got leaked somehow and she kinda shot into fame and I guess her family followed,” you explained simply.

“You should show him the tape,” Wade chimed in again, taking the remote from your lap and unmuting the TV.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna do that,” you shook your head, “I don’t think he’d wanna see it.”

“You’d be right,” Logan agreed, cringing a little.

“You two should make your own, then. You can finally be famous for somethin’ else, peanut!” Wade suggested, poking at his roommate's shoulder, “plus, with a pretty girl? Man, that would blow up.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. That was seemingly the end of the discussion, except Logan couldn’t get Wade’s words to leave his brain.

You two should make your own, then.

It stuck with him to the point that he was staring at his ceiling that night, listening to your steady breathing as you slept beside him, still unable to think of anything else. It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ask you to do that with him. Could he?

He couldn’t shake the image of you on the screen of some camera, your back to his chest as he fucked you from behind and you batted your pretty eyes at the lens. He’d never let another soul see it, it would be something just between the two of you - something he’d definitely keep to watch a million times over. He looked around his apartment the next day after you'd gone to work to see if maybe Wade had an old camera somewhere - one he wouldn’t miss if he never saw it again. He dug out a silver camcorder from the junk drawer in the kitchen, turning it over in his hands. It looked like one you’d find on a shelf in a radioshack - when they were still around - something you’d use to film a kid’s high school graduation in the mid two thousands. As long as it worked, it would do. He fumbled the thing open, pressing a couple buttons before the screen finally lit up and gave him the option to look through the album. There were only three things on there - a blurry picture of Wade’s shoes, an even blurrier picture of half of his face and a twelve second video of him trying to film Logan while he swatted the camera out of his hands and onto the floor.

He found a charger and hooked it up to the wall, already thinking over how exactly he was going to approach the subject with you. If he was going to be able to do what he’d been thinking about, that camera had to be charged to last for at least a couple of hours. He’d planned to stay the night at your place and figured he’d try to work up the nerve to ask then.

He found himself on your couch later that night, his thighs spread while you sat in his lap and played with his hair. He was leaving kisses down your throat, his hands on the sides of your thighs.

“Can I ask you somethin’, sweetheart?” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled his face away to look into your eyes.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

He almost felt dirty for what he was about to ask of you - like he was perverted for even considering it when you looked at him so sweetly.

His eyes moved from your face to his jacket laying beside him and he reached into the pocket, pulling out the small camera.

“I kinda wanted to try somethin’ a little different.”

Your lips parted when you realized what he was holding, eyes flickering from the device to his face. He watched your lips curl up into a smile. You knew instantly what he was about to ask when you remembered your conversation from the night before.

“You wanna film a sex tape?”

He swallowed hard, fearful that you were about to scoff and lift yourself off him. Instead, you rested your hand over his that held the camera, “I wonder where you got that idea.”

You took it from his hand, flipping it open and turning it on. You held it up and hit record, smirking when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I didn’t say I wanted my face all in it,” he scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you only film me?” you pulled the camera from your face, quirking an eyebrow at him, “uh-uh, babe. If this is gonna be our sex tape, I want you in it.”

He huffed, glaring at you through the lens.

“Besides,” you continued, “you’re acting like you're the only one who's gonna like it.”

“So, you’re not upset that I asked?”

You shook your head, “Upset that a hot guy asked to film himself screwing my brains out? Hell no.”

He gnawed at his bottom lip and watched you fiddle with the camera, clicking through settings and trying out filters. Screw your brains out, huh? He could do that. He wouldn't admit it even if you asked, but he was turned on beyond belief from the idea that you’d watch it when he wasn’t with you - he liked the idea of putting on a performance for you, giving you what you want so you’d stuff the little vibrator you kept in the drawer of your nightstand inside your aching pussy when you watched it back, your eyes trained on his face and remembering how good he’d made you feel.

“It’s kind of an older camera,” Logan began, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, “maybe we should test it out, see if it works?”

“Oh, should we?”

He stood up in seconds, his strong arms holding you up by your thighs as he carried you to your room. You giggled, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. You held the camera up to film yourself. Your face was in frame, Logan only visible by the back of his head as you stretched your arm out.

“This is my very sexy boyfriend, taking me to bed,” you narrated, kissing the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck as he nudged your door open with his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you kept the camera trained on him as he crawled over you.

“You’re gonna keep that damn thing on my face the whole time?”

He leaned over you with his hands on either side of your head, his bulging muscles even more prominent from your angle underneath him. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, licking over his lips. You wouldn’t mind if the whole video was just from this angle.

“You look fucking hot.”

He was a little taken back by your compliment. Even after months of sleeping together, he still wasn’t used to the praise, dismissing you with a scoff or simply hiding his red face.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

Logan snatched the camera from your hands in one quick swipe, sitting back on his heels so he could get all of you in frame. You sat up, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere off the bed, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You looked angelic underneath him with your hair spread around your head like a halo, your chest heaving in excitement. You bit your lip and grabbed the end of his shirt to pull him closer to you, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

He groaned, letting you pull him down and slip your tongue into his mouth. He haphazardly placed the camera on your bedside table, glancing at it momentarily to make sure it was on before diving back onto you.

His hands slid up your back and under the band of your bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment from your chest and licking his lips in awe. It didn’t matter how often he saw you naked; each time was like the first.

His mouth latched onto your chest almost immediately, swirling his tongue and sucking in a way that elicited a moan from your lips. Your back arched and he hooked his arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He was sucking dark marks into your soft skin, leaving each one shiny with his saliva. If there was one thing you were sure of with Logan, it was that he really loved being messy when he toyed with you.

He dragged his lips from your chest down your waistband, leaving tender kisses on your stomach and sides. Over time, he’d slowly gotten more affectionate - more loving and emotional - during sex. He always showed it the best he could, but he was clearly becoming more comfortable being vulnerable with you. He still had his animalistic and rough ways about him, but now it was combined with soft kisses to your nose and forehead, mumbled praises into your mouth and declarations of love while you panted from the pace of his thrusts.

Logan stopped at the waistband of your jeans, his fingers popping the metal button with little hesitation. You wordlessly lifted your hips for him to drag them down your thighs, leaving you only in your panties. He leaned over to grab the camera from the table, leaning back a bit to get you in frame.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he huffed, his free hand immediately sliding between your thighs to graze his fingers against the damp fabric, “all for me?”

You nodded, hooded eyes and parted lips posing for the camera, “yours, all yours.”

Logan was chewing on his bottom lip while he admired you from behind the camera. He knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever been with; none of those dirty magazines or tapes he’d seen over the years could even compare to what was in front of him now. You were positively heavenly, a type of beauty so alluring that it bordered being otherworldly.

He finally used his free hand to remove your panties when you lifted your hips, set on recording as much as he could from the perspective he had because fuck, it was a good one.

Laying in front of him - completely bare - with the camera focused on you made you feel vulnerable and a little shy and Logan was always able to read you.

He wanted to focus on you even more, but he instead handed the device over to you when he sensed your mild discomfort, the lens facing him.

“Here,” was all he said, letting you bring the camera up to your eye before he tugged his t-shirt over his head. He knew you clearly enjoyed filming him and even if he didn’t love the idea of being the object of attention, he wanted you to be comfortable and he’d sacrifice his own comfort for you any day. So, once he was shirtless, he stood off the bed in front of you to strip himself of his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock spring up to hit his stomach when he took off the latter.

You had - fortunately for you - figured out the zoom option on the camera and used it to perfectly frame his leaking cock as the only thing in the shot, bobbing when he moved towards you to take the device back. When he did, he set it on the table next to the bed, messing with the same zoom option so that the shot was of you sitting up with your legs spread and your cunt aching to be touched.

Settling himself on his stomach between your legs, he hiked your thighs onto his shoulder, his mouth inches from your heat.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he began and you nodded, ready to agree to anything he asked of you, “be as loud as you can, yeah? Wanna be able to hear ya’ on tape.”

He instantly delved his tongue into you, making you gasp. You tenderly rested your hands on his arms that were hooked around your thighs as if you were encouraging him to stay there.

He ate you every time like he was starving, his cheeks and chin always slick with saliva and sap from between your legs when he finally pulled himself off you.

You did as he instructed - though, you were probably going to do it anyway - moaning openly as he licked stripes up your dripping cunt so he could circle his tongue around your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whined, your thighs clamping around his head out of instinct. He let you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to help angle his head and making him growl with his mouth still suctioned to you.

You felt around beside you for the camera, fumbling with it till you had the lens angled at him in between your legs.

“Fuck, L-Logan,” you panted, lovingly caressing his temple with your free hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed into you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat, “you like holding that thing, huh?”

Your eyes were glued to his through the small screen.

“You’re so fucking hot, of course I do,” you sighed, your lips parted and chest heaving.

He scoffed in amusement, continuing to slip his tongue between your folds and prod at your entrance. With his face still buried in you and his eyes closed in concentration, he took the camera from you and set it back on the table. He used his arms around your thighs to yank you further down the bed so you were flat on your back. You watched in awe as he spat a mouthful of saliva right onto your already soaked pussy, using his fingers to swipe his spit all over you. Latching his lips back onto your clit, he easily slipped two of his digits into you, feverishly pumping in and out. Your moans grew louder with each thrust of his fingers, echoing off your walls along with the wet noises that came from your soaked cunt.

“You’re such a good girl for me, lettin’ me eat your pretty pussy,” he rambled, voice muffled by your thighs, “always so fuckin’ good.”

You inhaled sharply when he gently rolled your clit between his teeth, licking after like a balm to soothe the searing sensation. You thought you couldn’t moan any louder until he replaced his fingers inside you with his tongue, angling his mouth in a way that made his nose nudge your bundle of nerves.

“Only good for you,” you managed to choke out, turning your head to the side to bury it in your pillow, “only for you.”

His hand slid up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He slid it up even further to grab your chin and turn your head so you were forced to look at him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he grumbled.

“Ah - uh-huh,” you tried to make some noise of agreement but were overwhelmed with how he was expertly tracing your cunt with his tongue.

Until he detached his mouth from you completely.

You groaned in frustration and knitted your eyebrows, silently asking why he stopped.

“Use your words or I’ll stop. Ya’ got it?”

His stern voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Yes, baby, please -“

His tongue was already back in between your folds by the time you said yes. He kept his vice like grip around your thighs, deciding he’d be content if he died right there with his head between your legs.

“Love when you - when you - fuck - eat me out,” you panted, “you make me feel so good.”

You knew how much he secretly loved the praise, catching the way he ground his hips into the mattress to find some sort of relief whenever you told him he was doing a good job, that he was so handsome, that you loved what he was doing to you. He was usually the dominant one in the relationship, whispering praises in your ear while you were underneath him, but you knew him well enough by now to have figured out that he loved when you did it back.

“You’re perfect, Logan, I - ah - I love you,” you gasped when his fingers pumped back into you.

It wasn’t all about sex with you two - though it was a wonderful part of your relationship - and yet he’d discovered that he’d never felt more loved than he had when he was with you, declaring your love for him while he completely devoted himself to you with his face in your pussy.

“I love you, too, pretty girl,” he grunted, “love fuckin’ you with my mouth.”

His filthy words fueled the fire building in your lower stomach and you tugged at his hair in an attempt to warn him.

“ ‘m gonna come,” you slurred, ankles locked on Logan’s back to keep him in place.

“Come for me, beautiful, c’mon,” he coaxed while his fingers abused the spot inside of you that made you whimper to encourage him to keep going, “want it all, want you to come on my face.”

That was definitely what sent you over the edge, mumbling unintelligible praises as he lapped up anything that had spilled out of you and onto his tongue.

“Tastes so damn good,” he heaved, his fingers still working at a consistent pace, “I think I can pull another one outta you.”

You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, crying out when he grazed your swollen clit with his teeth.

“ ‘s too - too much,” you tried to pull his head away by tugging his hair, to no avail.

He’d let you go, but not without one more taste of you.

It only took a couple more flicks of his tongue to have you arching your back, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you gushed around his fingers for a second time.

When he finally slipped his fingers out of you and he’d left the comfortable spot between your warm thighs, you could see that his entire lower face was almost completely slick with a mix of his spit and your cum. He was licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of you but making no attempt to wipe anything off his chin or cheeks. He was in love with you but he was also in love with the reality that he got to do this to you, that he got to taste every bit, that you wanted him to. You sat up to give him a desperate kiss - a clash of tongues and teeth that tasted entirely of you. You finally pulled away to admire his face.

Seeing him with his hair disheveled from your repeated tugging, his lips near swollen and raw and his cheeks still shining made you crave the idea of returning the favor.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, baby.”

Though he was usually the one giving orders instead of following them, he obliged anyway. His cock was still leaking in anticipation, hard against his stomach. When you got down on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t hide the excited smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never expected you to return the favor when he used his mouth on you - content with that being a reward itself - but when you did? You usually left him shaking.

You took the camera from the table and handed it up to Logan, eager eyes following the lens.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

You knew he loved it when you begged and you always used it to get him exactly where you wanted him, especially when you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he used his free hand to loosely hold your hair back in his fist, “I know you like havin’ it in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. You hovered your mouth over his tip, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips so you could coat his cock in it before you tried to take him in your throat. You’d done it before, but he was huge and every time you tried to prep to make it easier. Your jaw even became sore sometimes from how wide you’d have to keep your mouth open. You never complained, though, because the mere idea of having the weight of Logan’s heavy cock in your mouth was enough to make you drool.

You spread your saliva up and down, leaning forward and dragging his tip across your parted lips while staring up at the lens of the camera.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, focused on you through the small screen, “such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, placing a light kiss on his tip before engulfing him into your mouth, tongue sliding along his slit to taste the small amount of precum that’d dripped from him when he first sat up. You suctioned and began to work up a pace, taking him as far as you could into your mouth while your hand stroked the rest of him.

“I love giving you head,” you admitted in the most sultry way possible when you popped your lips off his tip, long lashes batting up at him. It wasn’t a lie, either, and that was clear by how sloppy you loved to be whenever it was your turn to be on your knees. If you had at least one thing in common, it was that you wanted to worship each other as much as possible. You wanted to leave him in a state of euphoria the same way he did you, just as messily dedicated to making sure he came.

“Yeah? I can tell, sweetheart,” he still held the camera but his eyes were trained on your face, “such a good girl, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You tried to push him further into your throat, eager to see his thighs shake and hear him groan your name. You gagged on his tip and he inadvertently rolled his hips. You hummed, eyes starting to water every time you choked on his dick. You used your free hand to cup his balls and smeared your saliva down from the base of his cock to coat them. You pulled yourself off his mouth momentarily to spit on him again, licking your lips in excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted, camera abandoned on the side of the bed so he could place both his hands on the back of your head, “doin’ so fucking good, princess.”

You continued to stroke him with one hand and massage his balls in the other, your tongue still swirling and sucking around him. You popped off him with a smile, spit covering your lips and chin while your hands continued their motion.

Logan leaned back on his elbows and held the camera up again with one hand. When you wrapped your lips around his cock again, he started to roll his hips at a steady pace so he could fuck your throat, grunting every time you gagged around him.

You picked up your pace, stroking his base while your head bobbed up and down in synch with your hand.

“Atta girl,” he panted, “jus’ like that.”

You could tell he was already close because he was sloppily rocking his hips up into your mouth, his thighs beginning to shake every time he hit the back of your throat. He sat up suddenly, grabbing your hair again to slowly pull you off his cock.

“On the bed, hands and knees,” he instructed simply, letting you scramble onto the mattress as he set up the camera on the end of your bed. You understood almost instantly what he wanted, biting back a smile as you laid your chest flat on the mattress, back arched with your ass in the air.

He climbed behind you and placed his knees on the inside of yours to push your legs apart even further. His large hands gripped your hips and he pulled you against him, his hard cock prodding your entrance. He leaned his body over yours so that your back was flush with his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy like you deserve,” he muttered into your ear, intoxicating you with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the side of your face, “think you can take it, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly and gasped when he dragged the tip of his cock along the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Can take it - I want it so bad, Logan,” you pleaded, pushing back into him. Your eyes bore into the camera, lips parted. It was his idea for a sex tape after all, you might as well be sure to give him a show.

He sheathed himself into you completely in one thrust with an iron grip on your hips, the weight of him pushing into you almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. He began to slowly inch himself out and slam back in again, pulling out a little further each time. He was grunting into the back of your neck while he rocked his hips.

“Takin’ it so good, baby,” he panted, one of his hands moving to your neck and barely applying pressure while the other held his upper body above yours. His lips came to the side of your face and left a kiss so sweet that it could’ve rotted your teeth.

You whimpered when he worked up to a steady pace and reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely. Your fingers gripped the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto so you could stable yourself when his hard thrusts nearly knocked you over completely.

“S-so fucking - ah - so good,” you slurred your words with your eyes squeezed shut. You were slack jawed, nearly drooling.

“Yeah? Can tell you like it,” he huffed, “you’re so pretty, takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

You nodded frantically, whimpering every time he slammed into you.

“You like bein’ on camera, don’t you?” he continued, “you’re really fucking wet.”

You could only moan in response. You were soaking around him, drenching the base of his cock and the happy trail that went up to his stomach. He leaned back on his knees and his pace never faltered.

Your hands outstretched in front of you and you grabbed the camera. You angled it over your shoulder and focused the lens on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He scoffed when he noticed the camera over your shoulder, keeping his rhythm while his eyes were glued to the lens. If he thought too hard about what you might do with the video later, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Feels good, baby?” you panted, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

He was always the one to talk to you like that - pet names and filthy encouragement - but you wanted to get his face on film when you teased him back - or, at least tried to.

His expression mirrored yours and he grabbed the camera while his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip.

“I think you like holdin’ that thing a little too much,” he brought it up to his face and squinted at you through the screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, your face flushed and body sticky with sweat, “can’t help it.”

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that? God,” he sighed, “can’t get enough of you.”

You would’ve found his words endearing if you could even process them. The intoxicating feeling every time he pushed back into you was enough to render you speechless.

Logan angled the camera down to film the repeated motion, gaping at the mess you left around the base of him every time he pulled back.

“My dirty girl,” he cooed, “you like makin’ a mess on my cock?”

“F-Fuck - yes, yes,” you sobbed before he even finished his sentence. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, bringing you closer to finishing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I can feel you gettin’ tighter. Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hand sliding from your hip to grip your ass.

It only took a few more strokes for you to do exactly that with your legs shaking underneath you.

“ ‘Atta girl,” he growled. He watched you gush around him, zooming in on your dripping pussy as he stretched you out over and over again. You were chanting his name, muttering unintelligible praises against your sheets.

It wasn’t long before he followed suit, his pace becoming sloppy as he spilled into you and let it drip down your thighs. He clicked off the camera and tossed it somewhere else onto the bed.

“C’mere,” he huffed, pulling you up to lean back against him, “love you so much.” He was leaving saccharine kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, still panting.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say with your eyes already half closed. He pulled out and laid you on your side, grabbing some t-shirt that had been next to the bed to clean you up. He wrapped you in his arms from behind and pulled up the comforter to cover you both.

“Can’t wait to watch that back,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Mhm,” you were already drifting off to sleep while he stroked your hair, “me neither.”

Logan fell asleep right after you with his arms still around you and his legs tangled in yours.

—-----------------------------------

Later that same week, you sat on the couch beside Logan in his apartment, flipping through TV channels on a lazy day off. Wade emerged from his bedroom and began frantically tearing apart the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” you called, turning in your seat.

“My old camera. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

You thought you hadn’t, at least. You had know idea the camera Logan brought over was Wade’s.

He was pretending to be uninterested in the conversation, hoping his apathy towards the question would absolve him of any suspicion.

You shrugged and returned your attention to the TV. You heard a couple doors open and close before Wade’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Found it!”

Logan went wide eyed and immediately stood up from the couch.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked between him and Wade when he came back into the living room.

And then you recognized the camera in his hands.

“Don’t open it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Logan insisted simply, holding out his hand.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered.

Wade's eyes flickered between you both.

“There’s something on here I’m not supposed to see, isn’t there?”

Logan immediately lunged for the camera and Wade sprinted into his bedroom, slamming his door shut and locking it. Logan pounded his fist on the door and tugged the doorknob.

“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”

You buried your face into the fabric of the couch cushion, anticipating the embarrassment of Wade seeing what was still on that camera.

He opened the door after a minute, giant smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,” he said in a sing song voice as he handed it over.

You sighed in relief, assuming he’d decided to actually abide by your requests. He closed his bedroom door, only speaking again after you heard the lock click.

“Hey, by the way - can i get a copy?”

A/N: I struggled a lil bit w this one just bc of writers block but I hope it lived up to expectations <3 pls interact if you enjoyed!

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlet smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #logan wolverine #deadpool and wolverine

187 notes · View notes

mehiwilldoitlater · 1 day

Note

please my dear author , please!!!!! I'm begging you, Give me satisfaction with your story, please😭❤️...

May i've a reaquest headcannon for, wife s/o x sun wukong,They both are always together and fight together, even die together 😭... Please my dear author, you are my only hope .

(btw, s/o is good at healing magic, she even fights using magic)

How funny and how ironic, Wukong thought, to be held in his last moments in the arms of the sword brother that once he had tò defeat in battle.

His breath reduced by a raspy whisper, his chest now covered in blood by the wound... eh, come to think of it, he didn't feel any pain now, just numbness.

His hears, then, grasped One of the many breaths there, one that, like him, was reaching their last moments. He could recognize that breath between thousands, and then he sensed a feeling of dread. He wanted to reach her. The bull sensed his desire and obliged.

In a pool of blood, a feminine body lay. Her chest covered in arrows, her once white hanfu now in a Splendid Crimson shade. The eyes of the monkey gleam from the sad view.

A bride, even in her last moments. His bride, his wife, his everything.

You were his, and he was yours, and so the sage wanted to be until the end.

The bull was able to lay him down next to you, a small moment of peace on the battlefield.

You two really did a lot together?

///

You were mere servants for one of the seven fairies, a body between many. You never asked for something more, you never asked to be different, and you never asked to be noticed by anyone. Too much trouble, you always thought.

But you were different. Despite your humble position, you were born with abilities that, even amongst many immortals, were quite rare. Healing powers, a sacred ability that just a few could learn but were born with? You were special, but you just hoped for a humble life.

But even in the celestial realm, nothing can just stay the same.

You first saw him when he was ordered to the Jade Emperor. Hiding behind some officials and other servants, the first thing that caught you was his manners. He wasn't a bride; he was just treating the most important being in the world like some random people. You should be shocked, but... It's nice? You wondered what kind of person was the new keeper of the horses...

///

"Master Wukong Is Amazing!"

"Since he's the one who's taking care of the celestial steed, all of the beasts are in great shape!"

Wukong was always someone who loved the praise and the compliments, but something was quite off. It was true, he was the best keeper that the Celestial stables everything had, but he had noticed something a little strange.

Sometimes, maybe by accidents or by distraction of the owner, one of the horses came back injured or with some small wounds. He had always done his best to take care of them, of course, and the next day the same wound was soon gone. More than anyone, he was supposed to be happy or proud by this, but he knew something was playing a trick on him. Surely, another one would have believed that it was the same horse that had such an ability like that, or everything that stables themselves, but why then call for someone to take care of the horses if there was something like that?

One day, he finally knew the answer.

When the day was almost over and the Night Patrol deity started to prepare for his work, Wukong wanted to check on the horses and remembered that one of them seemed quite unwell after a bad day with its owner.

When he reached the stables, he seemed quite pleased to find the door unlocked, especially since he knew that all of his helpers had left for the night. He noticed there the light of a small lantern, and there he decided to move. Taking the form of a fly, he started to buzz in the direction of the light, and what he saw left him pleased.

"Poor one, did they mistreat you, uh?"

Your voice seemed so kind and gentle; the horse was immediately putty in your hands. Sitting on an overturned bucket, you gently caressed its snout and Maine, coercing it to give you its injured leg.

"I know what it means; don't worry, I'll treat you right away."

And, under the incredulous eyes of the Great Sage, a dim light started to shine in your hand, and, by just caressing it, the wound was good and gone!

"There, all done!" You said happily, keepnon caressing the horse, "Now you look good as new!"

The Great Sage couldn't control himself; you had picked up his curiosity like nothing before! Like a bolt, he immediately took back his true form and started you and the horse.

"Easy horse, brother!" He esclaimed, calming the beast, "Do not scare the precious one!"

You feel a sense of panic. You were caught, red-handed, in the celestial stables tending the horses that weren't even your own duty, by the keeper himself. You kneel before him, your face in the dirt, hoping to appeal to his kindness.

"Forgive me, master! I didn't intend to do any harm! I just wanted to cure these poor creatures! Please don't report me! I beg you!"

He looked at you with quite the interest, bent down to touch your head, laughing a little.

"Come now, precious one! I'm not in need of this kind of guidance! I punish who's wrong me, not who does good!"

You raised your head a little, your forhead dry from the mud of the pavement.

"You...you won't?"

"Not as long as you're going to share with me that trick of yours, precious one!"

"My Lord, I'm not precious at all! I'm just a servant."

"Tell me your name; even if you'll be precious to me!"

"I'm Y/N, master; I work under the Seven Fairies, daighters of the Jade Emperor. And...my powers are just my powers; I was born with them."

"Oh, a servant?!" He seemed indignant by your statement, "How can it be?! Such powers are for gods and immortals! Not for servants and cleaners! They had made a mistake with your position!"

"Oh, no, master! I'm where I wanted to be! I do not care for my position; I just enjoy my life as it is."

He pondered, Little, what a strange little thing you were. Such amazing powers, and yet so humble?! So interesting, very much indeed! He circled you a few times, causing you to emit a few giggles, even if you tried to keep them in your mouth.

"Say, do you like these horses?"

"Yes, master! Quite Indeed!"

"Then! Come to me every day at this same time! I want to know you better!"

///

And so you kept your promise. Every day, after your choirs, you were welcomed in his own palace, treated like an equal. Sometimes you've dined, sometimes you've just drunk tea, but every time talking with him seems so natural. You showed interest in his home, to the point that he wanted you to pay a visit there with him next time.

He loved having you around; you've never looked him down, always so modest and kind. You were truly a precious one to him! He never loses a chance to greate you, even in front of the other servants and celestials.

And so rumors started to spread.

The Bimawen found a friend in the Seven Fairies servant. The girl likes to spend time with horses and monkeys, they said. Some even complained that you smelled of animals.

Once, one of the seven sisters even forced you to take a bath and tò not touch anything until you were completely cleaned. It was so humiliating.

But you decide not to tell anything to the Bimawen, afraid of some reaction. And yet, something still happened.

One incautious immortal had decided that he needed to provoke the monkey and reveal his true position in the heavens! You were sure he was aware of it. Instead, they decided not to inform him! He was furious! He destroyed the stables and fled away from Heaven.

He had one regret: leave you there alongside those foolish arrogants! But he could not force you, not someone like you.

So imagine his surprise when the youngest monkey proclaimed to have captured an immortal, only to come to him withbyour in their grasp!

"Y/n?!" He screamed, reaching you with a jump and taking you in a bone-crashing hug. "My precious! Why are you here?! Did you finally decide to come and green my children?!"

"Oh Wukong," you caressed his head. "The Celestial Palace is enraged! They want to capture you! They're sending an army here!"

He laughed, finally setting you down, caressing your delicate hand.

"Old Wukong is not afraid of them; I'll let them regret having provoked the Great Sage equal to Heaven!"

And while you wondered when the battle could begin, he showed you his kingdom. A land with no palaces, no rules, only swore brothers and sisters that believed in each other's strength and power. They were equal in each eye, and all of them were ready to fight for each other. It felt right...

Sun Wukong had shown you to everyone with pride, calling you his precious one, the one that can heal with her hands. And even if he loved to braga about you to everyone, he had always shown respect and never forced you around. He wanted to praise you like he should, but he wanted you happy.

It was the first time in his life.

///

"My precious... I wonder...do any of those morsels up there ever tried to court you before?" He lay on the ground, enjoying your scratch on his head.

"Not at all, my Lord. They never looked me at all, and since I know you, they avoided me."

"It feels me with pride then! That I'm the only one that had the chance and the right to court you properly!"

"You...courting me, my lord?" Your cheeks took a crimson shade, embarrassed but yet intrigued.

"But...why me? Of all the matches, why me?"

"Because you had made something that a few had done, you had intrigued me." His hand taking yours, covering them in kisses, "so say yes, bye mine forever. Let's live in peace!"

And so, with a kiss on his lips, you accepted.

///

He did keep his promise; he defeated the immortals that had been sent to capture him. He forced him to find a new strategy, giving him what he wanted!

And most definitely, he decided to have you have his own. His wife, his precious wife, was the only one that he really cared to have by his side.

You wanted to be more—not for everyone to acknowledge you, but for him. Rakshasi had you as her disciple. She taught you, and she was able to unlock your true potential. And he knew, and he loved you for that.

When you both returned to the Celestial Palace, he wanted people to greet you both, but your hopes weren't so high.

In their eyes, you were still a servant, and he was still just a monkey. That was something that they would never stop seeing.

But you learned that respect should be earned, not given, so you stopped being the respectful one. If someone offended you, you responded, well, know that now not only your own fury was feared, but the one of your husbands too.

///

"My love, this is wrong!" You tried to convince him, whispering between the peach trees. "We shouldn't! We should guard the immortal peaches! Not eating them!"

"AH!" He picked another one, giving it a huge bite. "I'm the Guardian! Why shouldn't I? And those knuckles head Will never noticed of a few have been eaten, my dear."

He extended the same peach, his mischievous eyes tempting you.

"You and I... We deserved more, my love. Why deny it?"

Yes, why? The immortals were never Just with both of you, that was the right payment that he deserved. Your mouth became full of the peach pulp, and soon the lips of the monkey claimed your now immortal ones.

You desecrated even the same soul of that orchad.

And soon, you both were meant to desecrate more.

///

When he learned from your former masters, the Seven Fairies, that you weren't invited to the banquet of the mother of the west, he was furious.

You were at his side when the Seven Maiden started to mock him and yourself.

"A stone monkey and his mate to the royal banquet? How absurd!"

"He can come and make a dance for us; she can serve us for sure!"

Their laugh was what enraged him the most. How dare they mock you in front of him?! How dare they make funny of the Great Sage wife?!

When the maidens were immobilized by his spell, by the look on his face, it was clear that he planned nothing but troubles.

When the two of you came in the Great All, he put everyone to sleep and then started to drink and eat everything that his eyes could possibly lay on.

"Wukong, this...this is not necessary! We should stop!"

"Stop?!" He looked at you, throwing away a cup full of wine. "They made me do it! They've never been fair to us! I won't stop! I refuse! Come, my beloved, let's drink and wine at their own expense! Let's feast! And when we're full, let's bring the rest to the children!"

And so you did; you drank and drank wine with him, uncertain of this action. The emperor... he would be enraged... but he was right, they treat you both poorly... still...

And so you drank, trying to put down your worries in the alcohol, afraid of the future. You tried to put at rest the fear. And so, Cup After Cup, you fell asleep. You didn't remember all; only your spouse brought you something shining in your mouth, with a huge grin on his face.

When you woke up, you were both back to your mountain, and your fear was true.

///

"I BEG YOU!" your head on the ground, like the first day you both met, "ask forgiveness! Do as they say! Don't bring your people to war! Do not harm them! Please!"

His swore brothers Look at you with pity while he keeps on looking at the thundering skies. He couldn't turn back down.

"My precious one, I refuse to beg for Mercy! I'll make them see what happens when they play against me!"

Then his eyes became gentle only when he looked at you. His hand cupped your face, looking at your crying eyes. How he hates to see your gorgeus face crying.

"Go with Who can't fight my beloved; stay with them! The world of war is not meant for you."

"If you refuse to beg for Mercy," you held his hands against your trembling chest, "then I'll fight with you."

///

And so you did; you did fight alongside him and his generals against the celestial army... but it wasn't enough.

Not against Erlang Shen.

When he was taken away, you were held hostage in the palace, forced to see the tortures and every plan to kill him. But in the world, nothing has ever worked.

When they put him in the Lao Tsu Trigram furnace, you thought they had lost him. No matter how much they torment you, no matter what pain, the thought of the loss of your husband was too. much to bear, but he wasn't dead; no, he became stronger.

Nothing could have beat him, and, for a moment, you really thought that he could become the new emperor...

But he played against more capable opponents.

///

You could still Hear him moving, struggling against the rock, gnawing at the mud, trying to get out and break free from the golden sigyl.

"You're hurting yourself more..."

"WAIT until I break free!"

"You won't..."

"Are you doubting me?! "

You get, starting to walk away, your cold expression couldn't even manage to hold his fiery eyes longer than a second.

"Where are you going?! Stop!"

"I'm going to find our people. They fled in the fight. I'll do what I can."

"We'll do it when I'll break free! WAIT!"

When you turned around, you were the one holding an enraged expression. Your fists were so tight that your hands were white, and your lovely (y/c) eyes were of a deep red color.

"I wanted you to stop! To reconsider it! But you didn't listen! We could have been happy and serene, but you... you just wanted more."

He wanted to scream back, but he heard it—your hiccups, your sobs.

"No, please! Don't cry! I can hold everything, but seeing you cry breaks me deeper." He struggled again to reach you, to console you, but another strike from the sigyl stopped him. You didn't want to hear him again; you just wanted to leave, and so you started to walk away again, ignoring his screams.

"PLEASE! I'll Fix Everything! I'LL DO IT! PRECIOUS ONE, PLEASE!"

///

As the seasons change, you change for the worst. You became something else.

Your power, once maid to help and protect, became cold like ice. Your colors disappear, pure white, like a ghost you became. You even started to forget your name.

With no one to come back, your people were hunted by the Celestials, abandoned, and hated by everyone. With no place to go, you became a demon.

For 500 years you prey on mortals, other demons, and such, until fate acts again and a monk and three pilgrims cross your path.

And your heart longed for two things: your husband and the flash of the Tang monk.

But your story was short-lived, you guessed.

///

Wukong held you in his arms, your fragile body against him. You were like a child, deep in slumber, while your old color started to come back.

He did what he could; he suffered enough, all for one thing: a second chance for you.

He sensed your struggle in your sleep, his footsteps echoing in the depths of Mount Huaguo.

"Shhhh...sleep..."

Yor hands grasped his tunic, feeling the rasp material under your finger.

"Wukong, I had... a dream."

"A Dream? It was good?"

"No, it was a nightmare. I did so many bad things... I hurt you and someone you care for."

He stayed silent, only holding you closer to him. "It was Just a Dream, my love...nothing more."

He laid you down on the altar, covering you with some furr. He stayed there, admiring your tired expression.

"Sleep now; when I'll be back, you'll tell me all."

"Where are you going?"

"...finish a job...but I'll come back soon, so do not fret. Your husband would never abandon you."

You smiled, feeling his lips caressing your forhead. You felt safer now; he would come back soon.

And so he closed the door made of rock of your secluded prison. A sygil, one similar to the one that he once had, and a spell made to you sleep.

He didn't noticed, but he started to weep while he was closing It.

///

He did it; he finished the job. He became Buddha; he obtained a position so secure that he could grant you and himself freedom.

But he was never meant to be free, wasn't he?

He wanted you out of this conflict; he tried to protect you, but you were so stubborn, so eager to protect the husband that had pulled you back from those 500 years of misery...and instead there you were, at the brink of death.

How ironic and unkind...

He felt something—a warm touch to his chest. Your palm emitted that kind light; you tried to use your power on him one more time. He held your hand and stopped you.

You were so tired and you looked at him. He seemed so tired...and yet he smiled.

It's fine. That's enough. No more.

In your last moment, you couldn't help but cry, sobbing, with one consolation of dying at his side.

He wanted to hold you close to him, tell you that everything would be okay, and not be scared because he was there with you. He could only caress your face, trying to stay closer to you, avoiding more pain from the arrows.

And while the divine light was ready to engulf you both, he prayed one last time.

He prays that, if his plan works out, to meet you again, to fix the mistakes of the past, and to tell you how much he love you one more time.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan

128 notes · View notes

dreemurr-skelememer · 2 days

Note

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find. im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial! (this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals. it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔

okay so basically: contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark. BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer! the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only), i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps. there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way. you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes. don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared. like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different. on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art. rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless. find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment. particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them) but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker. it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

#long post #art tutorial #rendering tutorial #art help #art tips #tutorial #kia doodles shit #artxstic-scr1bbles

122 notes · View notes

kkanabel · 20 hours

Text

apricity ❃ oneshot

fire spirit!bakugou katsuki x archaeologist!afab!reader / siberian au lmao

words: ~6.6k

T/W: nsfw, minors dni, yucky at the very end, fingering, porn with plot, overstimulation, size difference, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, alcohol use (not during the yucky but waay before the yucky), bakugou being bakugou, not beta read

directory/m.list

Frost clung to the window panes of your cabin as you pulled on the last of your layers—a thick, fur-lined coat with a hood drawn tight around your face and a scarf was wrapped around your nose and mouth. The mornings here were unforgiving, the bite of the wind sharp as knives as soon as you stepped outside. You grabbed the ax by the door, its handle starting to grow familiar in your gloved hands, and pushed the door open into the early morning light. A heavy breath left your mouth in a plume of white as you approached the woodpile, ready to chop enough firewood to keep your small cabin warm for the day.

Frost bites at your cheeks as you swing your ax down on a thick block of firewood as the crisp snap echoed in the cold air. Each heavy breath from you escapes in a foggy plume in the biting winds of Yakutia. The village sits nestled in a wide, snow-covered expanse, tucked into the curve of towering mountains, the sky above streaked in pale blue and white. It’s early morning, but the cold is already unforgiving, gnawing at your layers of fur and wool, testing the warmth of your windproof, insulated pants.

A brief break in the wind brings a fleeting warmth from the sunlight— the sun’s faint brush over the top half of your face offering relief in the middle of a frozen landscape. You close your eyes for just a moment, savoring it, before returning to your task. The sound of the ax cutting into the wood mixes with the rustle of pine trees in the distance, their branches weighed down by heavy snow.

You swung the ax, splitting a log in two. The dry wood splintered easily, and the sound echoed in the quiet wilderness. The only other noise came from the wind as it howled through the trees, carrying with it the promise of an even colder day. The cold worked its way into your bones despite your many layers. You stayed in cold places before, but the tundra was different. It was a place where even warmth felt fleeting, only offered by a fire or the thick fur you wrapped yourself in.

Satisfied with the pile of wood you’d gathered, you stacked it by the cabin door before retreating inside, the warmth of the hearth greeting you. The fire crackled steadily, casting a golden glow against the dim interior. The gas stove hissed as you lit it, filling the kettle with water for tea. Your stomach growls, reminding you that breakfast is long overdue.

The crackle of kindling and the warm orange glow spread throughout the small wooden cabin, where you've been staying during your research.

After tossing a few more logs into the fire, you set about making breakfast. It came together simply—creamy and warm fish broth, pancakes, and smoked fish—a meal that filled the small space with a comforting scent. The small palm-sized pancakes were crisp on the edges, their golden brown surface sizzling in the pan. You smile to yourself, remembering a tradition you picked up from other villages.

As you finish cooking, you toss a pancake into the fire as an offering to whatever spirit might be watching over you. You heard it was a custom in your research. The villagers here don’t seem to do it, but it never hurts to be polite to the unknown.

By the time breakfast was finished, you had your notes spread out across the small wooden table, pencil scratching against the rough paper as you wrote. The village had called on your expertise after reports of strange events: food disappearing from homes, unexplained housefires, and villagers speaking in hushed tones about a spirit causing trouble.

You were already puzzled as to why the villagers would have called on an archaeologist and not an investigator. Your research into the village’s history has led you to strange old scrolls and whispers of a forgotten spirit, but the more time you spend here, the more you realize the villagers are reluctant to speak. The flickering firelight dances along the edge of your notes as you sip on a steaming cup of tea, savoring the warmth that spreads through your chest.

Ghosts and spirits don’t exist, you reminded yourself. Still, there was something to be said about folklore. It was tied deeply to history, and that was your true interest—the stories behind the stories.

The villagers were tight-lipped, though— your inquiries had been met with vague answers and nervous glances. Today, you planned to spend more time in the village center, talking to whoever would listen. The old man who ran the inn had mentioned something about ancient scrolls kept by a family who had been in the village for generations. Perhaps you could find more information there.

Later, you head out to meet the villagers. Bundling up again, you stepped outside into the snow. The cold was immediate, but you pushed through it, your breath forming thick clouds in front of you as you made your way toward the heart of the village.

Houses stood small and stoic against the barren landscape, with thick snow blanketing their roofs. Smoke rose lazily from the chimneys, the scent of burning wood hanging in the air. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you walk through the narrow, icy paths, nodding to the occasional passerby. The wind is sharp today, tugging at your fur-lined hood.

You hunch your shoulders against the cold as you make your way to the center of the village, where a small crowd has gathered. The scent of charred wood hit you before you saw the blackened remains of the structure, now little more than rubble. Your heart skipped. Another fire? The villagers spoke in low murmurs, and as you drew closer, you overheard snippets of conversation about the thief who lived there—a man who had stolen from his neighbors.

You frowned, remembering a neighbor of yours had told you to stay away from the man who was known to frequent bars and have sticky fingers. The same man used to live in this home that was no more than a pile of charcoal.

You’ve heard the rumors about the “spirit”—they say it punishes those who harm the village, but you’re not convinced. Fires like these happen in dry regions all the time, and it’s not uncommon for Yakutia, even in winter. You jot down a few notes, watching the fire consume the house, the warmth a stark contrast to the frigid air biting at your skin.

Was it possible the spirit the villagers whispered about had been punishing him? Or was it just an unfortunate accident, a result of negligence and the harsh conditions?

You shook your head, noting down the details. The more you learned, the stranger the situation became. It was only when you returned to your cabin that evening, exhausted from talking to the hesitant villagers, that you realized just how strange things had become.

Later that day, you return to your cabin, taking in the familiar creaks of the wooden floor under your boots and the soft flicker of your gas lamp lighting the room. The air inside is only a little warmer than the biting cold outside, but the crackling of the fire in the stove offers some comfort.

You sit at your table, flipping through pages of your notebook. The pencil scratches lightly against the paper as you record observations, every sound amplified in the quiet room. The rhythmic back-and-forth fills the space, a welcome lull amid the chaos of your investigation.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts.

Standing in the doorway is one of the villagers—a man about your age, wrapped in thick furs with snow dusting his shoulders. You’d visited his family home a little while ago to ask about the happenings around the village, but their answers remained vague as all the others.

He’s cradling something in his hands. His breath fogs in the cold air as he shifts his weight, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and something warmer. “I found these,” he says, extending his hands toward you. “Thought you might want to take a look.”

In his arms are ancient stone blocks, their surfaces engraved with symbols, faint but intricate. Your eyes widen at the sight. These carvings look similar to what you’ve seen before but older, almost primitive in comparison to the more refined relics you'd encountered earlier.

“Where did you find these?” you ask, stepping closer.

“In my house,” he replies, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “They were buried under some old planks. Figured they were important.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Thank you. These could be a huge help.”

He smiles back, a little too long. “I hope so. It’s, uh, the least I could do. The villagers… we don’t really know what’s going on with all this, but I figured you’d be the one to figure it out.”

As a thank-you, you hand him a small bag of food—some dried meats and bread you had stored away. His face lights up, and he nods gratefully before leaving you alone again to examine the stone blocks.

The sun sets quickly in the tundra, and soon, the only light in your cabin comes from the gas lamps and the fire’s low embers. You’re absorbed in studying the runes when a familiar knock sounds at the door again. When you open it, the man stands there once more, his eyes glinting in the soft lamplight. You let him in, not wanting him to stay in the cold for too long.

“I wanted to tell you more,” he says, a little breathless from the cold or perhaps something else. He shifts on his feet, seemingly nervous. “There are stories—whispers, really. The villagers don’t talk about it much, but some say there was once a spirit who protected us. He might’ve even been part of our village, long ago.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why wouldn’t anyone mention that?”

“They’re ashamed, I think,” he replies, his voice low. “It’s been forgotten over time. No one’s sure what happened, but... there are theories that we abandoned him, and he’s been angry ever since. That’s why the strange things have been happening.”

You nod, processing the information. It feels like a piece of a much larger puzzle, but there’s still so much missing.

As he talks, you notice the way he looks at you—his eyes linger a little too long, his words carrying a soft edge of admiration. He’s clearly interested, but you decide to brush it off for now. You smile politely, pretending not to notice the way his gaze follows you as you walk back to your table. You’ll be leaving the village as soon as you finish the case, so you didn’t want to lead him on.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice firm but kind. “This is really helpful. I’ll look into it.”

The man nods, his shoulders slumping slightly as though he expected more. “Of course,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

As he leaves, the door shuts with a soft click, and you turn back to the runes, your thoughts swimming with new possibilities. If what he said was true, there’s more to this mystery than the villagers are willing to admit. And now, it seems like the forgotten spirit might hold the key to it all.

A couple days later, as you ice fish by the frozen river, you set your net and lean back, watching the starting to sun dip on the horizon. The quiet stretches around you, broken only by the occasional crack of ice shifting in the distance. You peer down at your catch, noting the modest haul in your net. Then you blink—there, next to your net, are two large whitefish lying in the snow, far too large to have escaped without you noticing.

Confused, you glance around. No one is near. The fish are pristine, untouched by the ice or snow, as if they had been placed there deliberately. You shake your head, chalking it up to luck. Maybe they jumped out when you weren’t paying attention? The reflection in the water catches your eye, and for a fleeting moment, you see the sharp jawline of a handsome man’s face turned towards you as if he were ice fishing with you. You blink again, startled, and the image is gone when a fish swims by and ripples the water—just your own face reflected in the water.

You shake your head. It’s nothing. Maybe I’ve just been single for too long…

You thought about contacting that man from the other day for just a moment.

Later that night, after cleaning the fish and preparing a simple dinner of stroganina—raw, thin slices of frozen whitefish—you sit by the fire, letting the warmth soothe your tired muscles. The fish melts on your tongue, rich and buttery, as you sip water to wash it down. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You chalked it up to exhaustion. After all, nothing had happened that you couldn’t explain away with logic and reason. You even joked to yourself as you drank water, “If only I had some vodka to go with this.”

You took another sip, and suddenly the liquid burned down your throat.

You froze.

This time, there was no logical explanation. You looked down at the cup in your hands, heart pounding in your chest. How had the water changed? You hadn’t touched anything else, but the unmistakable burn of alcohol lingered.

Startled, you stare down at your cup, heart pounding. This—this can’t be explained away. Your mind entertained the thought of a Siberian Jesus Christ.

The fire crackled behind you, its warmth now somehow menacing. The quiet of the tundra felt heavier, the weight of the mystery pressing down on your chest. This place, this village—it wasn’t just the cold that seeped into your bones. There was something else here. Something old. Something powerful.

The next morning, footsteps in the snow led you away from the village, out into the wilderness.

The morning air was crisp, each breath leaving a wisp of white in the early sunlight. You bundled yourself tightly against the cold, pulling your fur-lined hood closer around your face. As you stepped outside, you noticed something strange—footprints, fresh in the untouched snow, leading away from your cabin. They hadn’t been there the night before, and curiosity tugged at you.

You followed them, your boots crunching softly against the snow. The air was still, save for the occasional rustling of distant trees swaying under the weight of frost. The path led deeper into the woods, the towering trees gradually closing in around you, until the footprints stopped at the mouth of a small, hidden cave.

The entrance was barely visible, half-buried in snow, but something about it drew you in. You knelt down, brushing the snow from the edges, revealing intricate stone blocks covered in carvings similar to the ones the village boy had brought you. Painted masks, adorned with swirling patterns of reds and whites, lined the inner walls, and Yakutian knives were arranged in ceremonial positions.

The air inside the cave was still, almost too still. You fumbled for your matchsticks, striking one and holding it up to cast a soft glow around you. The light flickered over the stone walls, revealing carvings of fire and snow��an odd combination, yet it made sense somehow, here in this frozen land. It felt like a shrine, a forgotten place of worship, long abandoned.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed a small stone just outside the cave. It was partially dusted in snow, but the engravings on it were clear. You leaned down, brushing it off with your gloved hand.

The instant your fingers touched the stone, a deep, gravelly voice echoed from behind you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You squealed, whipping around, only to find no one there. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you stumbled backward, falling straight into the snow. There were no footprints, no sign of anyone else. Just the eerie silence of the winter woods.

The spirit’s presence began to grow after you got home. Not just in the subtle warmth of the room or the way the hearth crackled to life at your arrival, but in the unmistakable feeling that he was always near. The warmth you once chalked up to the peculiarities of the stove now seemed deliberate, purposeful. The fire would roar to life just as your fingers began to freeze from the cold, as if it were watching, anticipating your needs.

It was no longer a question of if the spirit was real, but how deeply it was intertwined with the world around you. Every time you struck a match or lit a lantern, the flames danced longer than they should, their movements almost playful, as though teasing you. You tried to brush it off as wind or the natural flicker of fire, but something about the way the flames moved—how they seemed to respond to your presence—was undeniable.

It was trying to communicate.

It started with the crackling of the fire. At first, it was faint, like a low murmur beneath the sound of the wood burning. You would sit in front of the hearth after a long day of research, the warmth enveloping you, the sound becoming a constant companion. There were times you swore you heard words in the fire’s crackle, an indistinct whisper. "It’s just the wind," you told yourself. "Just the wood popping." But the more time passed, the clearer it became. The crackling wasn’t random—it carried meaning.

Then, one evening as you sat alone in the cabin after tossing a pancake into the fire, a cold gust of wind howling outside, you finally heard it: “You’re back.”

The voice was faint, almost lost in the sound of the firewood splitting, but it was there—low, gravelly, and unmistakable. You froze, heart pounding, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the flames. For a moment, you thought you’d imagined it. But the voice came again, just as you leaned closer. “You’re not afraid.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Your throat felt tight, your hands clammy despite the warmth. You tried to rationalize it—maybe you were exhausted, hallucinating from the cold. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t your imagination. Slowly, carefully, you muttered, “Am I... supposed to be afraid?”

The flames flickered in response, and you could swear you heard a huff, like a quiet laugh. Then the voice returned, clearer this time. “You’re stubborn.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, a mix of amusement and confusion swirling inside you. “If you’re a spirit,” you said softly, “then show me a sign. Let me know I’m not losing my mind.”

There was a pause, and for a moment you thought maybe the voice wouldn’t return. But then, the fire roared, flaring up for just a second, casting the entire cabin in a brilliant light. The heat was so intense that you instinctively stepped back, heart hammering in your chest.

So it was real.

The days after that were filled with small, subtle gestures. The fire seemed to burn longer without the need for more wood. When you struggled to chop firewood or gather supplies, you would return to your cabin to find fresh logs stacked neatly by the door or a basket of fish left outside. You didn’t question it anymore, though each act left you both grateful and uneasy. Eventually, he told you his name— Bakugou Katsuki.

"Thank you," you whispered to the fire one evening, unsure if Bakugou could hear you but needing to acknowledge the help he had provided.

The flames flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and you could almost sense his presence, as though he were sitting just beyond the hearth, watching over you.

It wasn’t just the warmth he brought. It was the feeling of protection, a sense that he was always there, keeping the biting cold at bay. The wind howled outside, but inside, the fire crackled with a steady, comforting heat, as though Bakugou himself were standing guard over your cabin.

As the connection between you and Bakugou deepened, so did the manifestations of his presence. There were times when you could feel warmth pass by you in the room, like an invisible hand brushing against your skin. And then, there were the footprints. In the mornings, you would find faint impressions in the snow outside your door—footprints too large to be your own, too distinct to be explained by passing animals. They led away from the cabin, disappearing into the woods where the trees whispered in the wind.

One night, after a long day of gathering research and barely avoiding frostbite, you collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even remove your boots. You stared into the hearth, watching the flames sway and shift. As you drifted off, you swore you saw something in the fire—a figure, tall and broad-shouldered, standing amidst the flames.

"Bakugou," you whispered, sleep pulling you under. The fire flared again, and in the brief moment before darkness claimed you, you felt the warmth of his presence like a blanket around your body, lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

With each passing day, Bakugou’s presence grew stronger. There were moments when you caught glimpses of him in reflections—on the frozen surface of a nearby pond or in the gleam of a window. He would appear for just a moment, the outline of a figure, the flicker of a flame in his eyes, and then he’d be gone, as though the world itself was trying to remember him.

"Why were you forgotten?" you asked the fire one evening, your voice barely a whisper. There was no immediate answer, but the flames shifted, as though Bakugou were trying to find the words.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," came the gravelly voice at last, softer than before. "I was supposed to protect this village. But something... something changed."

You waited, hoping for more, but the fire quieted, the conversation left unfinished. You knew he was withholding something, something important, but he wasn’t ready to reveal it just yet.

As the winter deepened, so did your connection. The emotional tension between you and Bakugou simmered just beneath the surface. He was no longer just a spirit haunting your cabin—he was a presence, a force that kept you safe, a companion in the long, cold nights. And as his voice grew more familiar, so did your thoughts about him. You started to look forward to the conversations by the hearth, the way the flames would flicker in response to your words, how his presence made the cabin feel less lonely, less cold.

But with that warmth came an ache, a yearning that neither of you dared to speak of yet. You wondered how far this connection could go, how real Bakugou could become.

One thing was certain: you were no longer alone in the tundra. And Bakugou, once forgotten, was starting to be remembered—by you.

The air was sharp and cold as you made your way back to the shrine, a small group of villagers following behind you. In your hands, you held an offering—a bundle of dried herbs, fish, and pancakes, all delicately wrapped in cloth. The villagers murmured amongst themselves, nervous but willing. They, too, had grown weary of the strange occurrences and were ready to do whatever was necessary to end them.

The old man leading the group had spoken of the fire spirit with reverence, explaining that the villagers once honored Bakugou with offerings to ensure their prosperity. Over time, however, the traditions had been forgotten, and with it, so had Bakugou’s power. Now, you were determined to set things right.

The path through the woods felt familiar. You’d followed it before, and yet today, it carried a different weight. You could feel him, his presence in the air, watching you from the shadows of the trees. It was as if the entire forest was holding its breath.

When you arrived at the shrine—a cave hidden deep within the woods—the villagers began to build a bonfire at its entrance. They stacked wood and kindling, and soon, flames licked the sky, casting the ancient stone carvings in a warm, flickering light. The shrine walls, covered in depictions of fire and snow, seemed to glow under the fire's embrace.

You approached the altar, laying the offerings down gently. The villagers bowed their heads, murmuring prayers to the forgotten spirit, asking for forgiveness. As you knelt beside the offerings, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, feeling an intense heat—not from the bonfire, but from somewhere deeper within the cave.

For a moment, the flames crackled louder, and the ground beneath you seemed to hum with energy. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything went quiet. The strange occurrences in the village—the fires, the whispers in the wind, the unsettling feeling of being watched—ceased. You could feel it, a weight lifting off the air. The offering had been accepted.

The villagers left soon after, grateful for your leadership and certain that Bakugou’s anger had been soothed. But you lingered, something pulling you back toward the cave.

Once the others were out of sight, you found yourself drawn deeper into the shrine. The carvings on the walls seemed even more intricate in the dim light, and you ran your fingers over the smooth stone, marveling at the ancient craftsmanship. Your thoughts wandered to him, to Bakugou. Was he truly satisfied with the offerings? Would you ever see him again?

A soft crackling sound broke the silence. You froze, every hair on your body standing on end. Slowly, you turned around, your breath catching in your throat.

There he stood.

Bakugou, no longer a fleeting presence or a whisper in the flames, but solid and real, towering over you. He was just as you’d imagined—no, more. His bare chest, muscled and powerful, was only partially covered by a thick fur that draped over one shoulder. His skin seemed to shimmer with warmth, his eyes blazing red like embers. He exuded strength, yet his gaze—intense and unwavering—held something deeper. Hunger.

"You came back," his voice rumbled, low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your mouth went dry. "I… I wanted to make sure the offering was enough."

He didn’t answer immediately, his fiery gaze trailing over you, making your skin tingle under the intensity of his stare. Then, with one swift movement, he closed the distance between you, pinning you gently against the cool stone of the cave wall. The heat of his body was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold of the cave, and you felt your pulse race.

"You shouldn’t be here alone," Bakugou growled, his breath hot against your skin.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were lost as his lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding. His kiss was consuming, like the fire he embodied—wild, uncontrollable, and impossible to resist. You melted against him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grip his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers.

His body pressed against yours, his warmth enveloping you as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. The world outside the cave disappeared—there was only Bakugou, his touch, his heat, and the insistent press of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hand moved up your back, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

The intensity of the kiss left you breathless, and when he finally pulled away, just enough to let you catch your breath, his lips brushed against your ear. “You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

You barely had time to respond before the world shifted. One moment, you were in the cave, pressed against the stone; the next, you were back in your cabin, the familiar warmth of the hearth surrounding you. But Bakugou was still there, standing tall before you, his hands still on your body, his lips only inches from yours.

Your eyes widened in shock. “How…?”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Fire is everywhere,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “And where there’s fire, I can be.”

Before you could fully comprehend what he’d just said, his lips were on yours again, softer this time but no less urgent. He kissed you like a man who had waited centuries for this moment, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made your knees weak.

The fire in the hearth flared behind you, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow as Bakugou’s body pressed against yours, his heat making your skin burn with desire. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was stoking the flames inside you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

You moaned softly against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as the intensity between you grew, the connection undeniable. He growled in response, deepening the kiss, his grip tightening as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Whatever boundaries had existed between the mortal world and the spirit realm no longer mattered. In that moment, there was only you and Bakugou—fire and flesh, spirit and soul, bound together in a heat that refused to be extinguished.

Without a word, he approached you, his movements as fluid as molten lava. He bent down and claimed your lips, You gasped at the contact, your body responding with a fiery need that matched his own.

He quickly peeled off your many layers of clothes. His hands found their way under your pants, taking them off as his touch burned your skin and he spread your legs. The world outside the cabin faded away, leaving only the two of you and the dance of shadows on the walls.

Bakugou knelt before you, his intense crimson eyes never leaving yours as he parted your folds with his fingers. You shrunk under his close gaze as he took the sight of you in. “So perfect,” he groaned, grabbing at your soft thighs with two large hands and spreading you out for him.

The first lick of his tongue sent you spiraling, the sensation intense on your clit. You moaned, your hands grabbing at his blonde spikes, your body arching towards the heat of his mouth. He took his time, tasting you, savoring you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of release.

But just as you felt yourself about to fall over the edge, you pushed him back, the need to explore his body consuming you.

You pushed him onto the ground, pulling down at his pants. “It’s my turn,” you proclaimed.

He looked up at you, a question in his eyes, but you didn't waver. You dropped to your knees pulling down his pants and gasping when his hard shaft bounced out of the fabric. It was the size of your face, and its girth was something else.

He noticed your awe at him, and his ego was inflated even more than it already is. “Like what you see?”

You roll your eyes, taking his thick length in your hand and bringing it to your lips before giving the tip a peck. He groaned, a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the cabin. Your hand grasped at his strong thighs. Teasing him, you spent time kissing all over his outer and inner thighs before moving to his shaft.

You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your mouth, worshipping him as he deserved. You licked him up and down his hot length, watching as his eyes screwed together in pleasure before you took his whole length into your mouth— up and down his length in a bobbing motion.

His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, urging you faster as he grew harder. The heat of his body was intoxicating, his scent a heady mix of sweet smoke and masculinity that made your head spin.

The fire in the hearth of the cabin roared to life, casting shadows across the room as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. His groans filled your ears, the only sound in the quiet night, until he could take no more. With a final, desperate thrust, he emptied himself into your mouth, the heat of his cum like liquid fire.

Bakugou chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as he lifted you to your feet. He picked you up with ease, carrying you to the soft fur that lay before the fireplace. Gently, he laid you down, your skin feeling like it was on fire from the heat of his touch.

"Your body," he murmured, tracing the curves of your hips with his thumb, "it's a masterpiece.” He leaned down, capturing a nipple with his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. You arched your back, gasping as the heat from his breath melded with the warmth from the fire, making it feel like you were melting from the inside out.

"Bakugou," you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips as he moved to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. His hands roamed over your stomach, his fingers finding their way between your legs again.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Katsuki,” he corrected, as he began to fuck you with them, slow and deep, watching as your eyes fluttered closed and your mouth fell open in ecstasy.

As he worked his fingers into you, a low hum escaped him. “So damn tight,” watching as your face wrinkled up in pleasure.

"Look at me," he growled, his voice a demand that you couldn't refuse. You met his gaze, the intensity of his stare making your heart race even faster. His thumb brushed against your clit as his lips pulled themselves into a grin as he sent a shockwave through your body. "I want to see you come apart for me."

As soon as he said these words, his fingers curled directly into your sweet spot. Your vision went white with pleasure. In the background, his grin only became more animalistic as he leaned down to catch a nipple into his mouth. His fingers worked you to the edge, driving you crazy.

The orgasm crashed over you like a massive wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. Your thighs were wet and sticky with your own release.

He watched you, his own arousal evident in the way he held himself, his eyes never leaving yours. "That was just the beginning," he promised, his voice a rumble that sent another shiver down your spine.

He watched you— all spread out and pretty for him on the fur, watching the warm light of the fire bounce off your delectable skin as you tried to catch your breath and your legs shook. He couldn’t help but mark you up all over as he sent you over the edge once more with his lips and fingers this time. A light chuckle left him as you cried out his name and writhed underneath him— overstimulation already starting to take over.

Your breathless voice called out to him in the small space of the cabin. “Katsuki,” you beckoned, “please… I need it.” You knew that he kept going at this rate, you’d go insane.

“You sure, princess? You think you can take it now?” His head kept burying itself between your legs, kitten licking at your clit before sucking at it and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “You’re still not loose enough,” he says as he curls his fingers up again, releasing a squeal from you.

You just kept cumming— each time you came, your walls only got more and more sensitive, pulling you to orgasm again.

Bakugou watched in sadistic joy every time your walls tightened further around his fingers. He came back up to you to catch your moaning lips into a kiss before trailing down and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest. When he started playing with your clit again, you came again, tears welling up in your eyes from sheer pleasure.

Your mind couldn’t fathom anything but Bakugou. Your mouth cried out broken strings of his name until he finally withdrew his fingers from your core, licking them up lasciviously. He lined himself up with you, tapping his tip against your puffy clit, making you jolt. Your entrance was still convulsing from your long string of climaxes as he finally pushed himself against it, groaning when he felt himself slip past the ring of muscle.

He took in a sharp breath of air. “Could you quit clenching?” His head rolled back in pleasure, not even fully inside of you yet. “I’m already,” he pushes himself in further, “strugglin’ as it is…”

He was so thick. It filled you up, making you cum when he was only buried into your walls up until the tip and then some. “I’m sorry,” you managed to whine out, breathless, “I can’t help it!”

With these words, he froze and stared at you climaxing before pushing the rest of himself in, causing you to scream. He gave you a moment to relax with his entire shaft inside of you. You felt so full— he stretched you out so good. “So noisy,” he smirked, only spurring your voice to get louder with each thrust.

He started to pick up a steady pace, pistoning in and out of you. Each thrust made you shudder—his length stretched you out perfectly and hit you in all of the right places. Your hands gripped at the fur beneath you for any sort of purchase. He wiped one of your tears away, burying his head into the crook of your neck and groaning with each thrust.

You believed that spirits didn’t exist, but here you were, getting dicked down by one. And you were sure as hell enjoying it.

As he pounded away at you, your eyes rolled back into your head, your moans turning into cries. He was so rough, so primal in his movements, it was like he was trying to claim you. And with every thrust, it felt like he was getting closer to doing so.

He kissed down your neck, nipping at the soft skin with his teeth. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips tightly as he thrusted in deeper and harder. The noises of your pussy squelching in the cabin were obscene, but they only served to spur Bakugou on.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured against your skin.

His thrusts were getting faster and more erratic, so you knew he was close. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on, needing him to fill you up with his heat. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, he did. You felt the warmth of his cum fill you up, spilling into your womb like molten lava.

He collapsed onto you, panting heavily. His weight was a comforting presence as he remained inside of you, his cock still pulsing with every beat of his heart. You could feel his warmth seep into your very core, leaving you feeling complete in a way you never had before.

As the moments passed, he slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping out and down your thighs. You watched as he looked down, his eyes widening in awe at the sight. He leaned down to kiss you, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re mine now,” he whispered.

a/n: we're back!

lol not beta read again please let me know if you see any typos or anything that's just like. wrong/inconsistent

my taglist is open! lmk if you wanna be tagged in future bakugou fics or j all my fics in general

thank you for reading & stay hydrated, y'all <3

86 notes · View notes

aletterinthenameofsanity · 2 days

Text

Charles Rowland and Edwin Payne (Ninth Doctor and Rose AU)

The TARDIS is Edwin’s heart. That’s made perfectly clear by only a cursory glance around both. The way that it is worn down and gritty and Edwin’s suit is the only perfectly maintained part of it all and yet he just fits, y’know, moving about the space with such precision and grace, the only thing his hands ever touch with tenderness the levers of his ship.

The TARDIS is Edwin’s lungs. It breathes as he lives, its corridors filled with libraries and books and chemical sets and a million blueprints and magnifying glasses and detective novels sitting alongside more futuristic tech and tools. It exists as he does, expanding within itself, so much bigger and better on the inside, more spectacular than anyone could ever guess on first glance.

The TARDIS is dangerous. It turns a creature they meet, a dickhead who abused and murdered his family, back into a baby. It throws itself to the end of the universe to protect Edwin and the world contained inside of it. It is something that should scare Charles, its vastness, its unknowableness, its infinity.

And yet Charles loves it, loves it with everything he has, because it’s bigger on the inside, because it’s Edwin’s heart, because it’s Edwin’s lungs and his home and because Charles loves Edwin.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, leads you here despite your destination (under the milky way tonight)

With golden string Our universe was clothed in light Pulling at the seams Our once barren world now brims with life That we may fall in love Every time we open up our eyes I guess space, and time Takes violent things, angry things And makes them kind

-Sleeping At Last, Sun

In the spirit of getting myself working on chapter 5 (which I hope to finish tomorrow, if not the day after), I'm putting together moodboards for all of the episodes I've already done! Here's the first one!

@gendrsoup @vyther15 @anything-thats-rock-and-roll

@tititilani @flowerbritts @silverysnake @ohfallingdisco

@regina-cordium @nix-nihili @wordsinhaled @bitterdesert

@lesbicosmos @spacegirlsgang @1kazul

@flaggersribs @depressedandoverdressed @sasakisniko

#payneland doctor who au #doctor who #payneland #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #fanfic #my fics #aletterinthenameofsanity #ao3 #moodboard #my edits #edwin x charles

61 notes · View notes

embersofnovember · 2 days

Text

WATERCOLOUR EYES

modern!bookshop!au

summary : you work at a bookstore. anakin doesn't actually read.

warnings : idiots in love, tooth rotting fluff, probably grammar mistakes, (mentioned) padme amidala, cheesy romantic stuff

the first time anakin sees you, you’re stocking up books in the educational studies section.

it’s been a relatively slow day. not many people enter this bookshop anyway, but when they do, the day seems to go just that bit faster, which is why when anakin sees you for the second time ever, you’re mindlessly flicking through a book in the window of the shop behind the counter, and that is when anakin knows.

but when you see— notice anakin for the first time, you see an older man with him. stubble, grey hair at his temples and a tired expression on his face. anakin’s leaning against a bookcase that coincidentally faces your direction as the other man peers at all of the books in the historical section, fingers tracing over the spines delicately, and every time you do what’s a weak attempt at stealing a small glance at the boy, you catches him looking back at you. every time.

the first time you ever spoke to each other was on a rainy wednesday. the sun peering through the window offered nothing but fogging condensation instead of the sun that baked your skin almost every day. the hours were long, but you got to read, and if you could do that, you were fine.

the door swings open, gold letters glistening in the warm light of the lamp posts outside as the sky begins to grow darker.

you look up, exchange a smile with the same man from before, who you learnt last week that his name’s obi-wan. the boy trails in behind him and you almost freeze.

almost.

his hair is damp due to the misty rain outside, his hands coming up to adjust his brown coat slightly with slight annoyance. you’ve seen him countless times, but the funny feeling in your chest never eased, and you still didn’t even know his name.

the two of them are in the bookshop for around fifteen minutes before obi-wan is at the counter with two books held in his hand: the conspiracies of geonosis and the swamps of dagobah. you put down her own copy of a random fiction book she found on the weekend and scans the two of them, trying her best to ignore the realisation dawning in your brain that the boy isn’t with him when he was mere minutes ago. you two exchange a quiet, light conversation. it’s easy. For obi-wan, at least. it seems so easy for obi-wan to talk and you envy it. his voice was clear and british, almost bostonian. by the end of his well-spoken voice, you’d almost forgotten about the boy and you’ve gone back to a book of your own after obi-wan’s left.

truth is, anakin’s been hiding in the thriller section trying to build up the guts to go and talk to you for ten, long and agonising minutes. maybe that’s why he didn’t leave with obi-wan.

without thinking, he grabs a book from a bookcase, not caring to glance at the title as he works up enough courage to finally talk to you, and he accidentally slams the book onto the counter.

a muscle in your arm twitches. you look up, as if you were a deer caught in headlights. his eyes are spilling like watercolours.

and anakin’s heart almost gives out.

he didn’t know what it was about you. just how you always seem so entranced in a book when you pick it up and flip the pages, or the way your hair sometimes glistens a sandy colour in the sun.

“sorry,” he murmurs, flashing her what he hopes to look like a polite smile.

“it’s okay,” you mutter back, and you smile. dimples.

anakin doesn’t know how much longer he can stay composed without looking like an idiot.

“did you find everything alright, sir?” you ask quietly, taking the book from anakin’s slightly shaking hands. anakin doesn’t know what he’ll reply with, so he takes the safe way out and nods instead. you scan the book, turn it around to read the title with a face twisted in interest.

“tales of the force and where to find them?” you raise an eyebrow. not of confusion, but anakin thinks so, and he feels the blood rush to the skin of his face and he wishes he didn’t wake up this morning. he nods again with a smidge more confidence than before, tilting his head and acting like he didn’t just learn the title of the book with you.

“i’m anakin,” he says, but it’s awkward and thrown off balance, as if he was thrown out of a rhythm. ultimately, you recognise that feeling, so you don’t comment on it and your small smile only thickens. you probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway.

you shrug, trying not to glance at his eyes as you tell him your name. the rain outside grows heavier, bouncing off the pavements. obi-wan’s stood under a canopy with his hood over his head to shield himself, eyes darting around.

“that’ll be twenty dollars. cash or card?” you ask, handing the book back to him. your eyes meet again and anakin looks down at the carpet floor that strangely reminds him of his grandmother’s house, rummaging through the pocket in his jacket. he pulls out a crumpled twenty on the counter and nods, avoiding eye contact, too. part of him, a very large part of him, just wants to crawl into the floor and never return. he decides that he will never walk in this place ever again, and he clutches the book between his bicep and his chest, turning around and stalking out, and tripping over his own feet just before he gets to the door.

“have a good day.” you blurt out to him.

“you too!” anakin says back, a little delayed, humiliation burning his skin as he keeps his eyes trained on the space in front of him. He’s thinking of nothing but how relieved he is to get out as soon as possible. the door opens and closes with the ding of the bell at the top. you grin as you watch obi-Wan outside when anakin walks up to him, pestering him as they both turn around and walk side by side down the pavement, until she can see neither of them.

you can’t stop thinking about him until you fall asleep later that night, later than you normally do, and neither of you knew it, but anakin couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

___

the bell rings at the top of the bookshop. a shrill, honeyed sound in your ears. you find yourself glancing up with cartoonish eyes in hopes of seeing anakin again, heart stopping for a split second before you calm down again.

it’s a monday. a warm one, but you feel strangely serene. it’s been five days on the dot since you’ve seen both anakin and obi-wan, and they somehow only seem to be the only customers that treat you like an actual person. intimidation, filthy looks, lack of respect. yeah, it was the bare minimum, but it made you happy, and you didn’t care.

It’s tuesday when anakin comes in with obi-wan. in the morning as you drove to work, they announced on the radio that there would be a heatwave (much to your annoyance). working at a bookshop with little to no air conditioning was a nightmare, so there you were, sitting in a tank top with a thin flannel and shorts.

obi-wan walks in with a slightly irritated anakin behind him, who is wearing a white vest and cargo trousers, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes his skin glow. obi-wan seems unfazed by this weather. anakin learnt that he’s pretty much immune to the heat ever since they went on holiday to a place where the temperature was triple what it is here.

you immediately lose her composure, but you manage to recover quick enough for either of them to notice you sitting behind the counter, and when anakin does notice you, it seems that he relaxes. his gaze softens and he suddenly doesn’t look so tense. obi-wan almost seems perplexed with how suddenly his demeanour changes, but he quickly turns around and waves to you, which you return with a small smile.

it happens again: obi-wan buys a book, obi-wan leaves, and anakin doesn’t, but this time, when he goes up to the counter with yet another random book (that he made sure to check before grabbing it), he has more confidence than before.

as you take the book from his hand, your fingers brush up against each other. you fight the urge to draw your hand back, and anakin almost loses his confidence then, but he remains physically tranquil, but on the inside, he’s rethinking his every move.

“so,” anakin starts, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo trousers, “you work at a bookstore. you like reading?”

you glance up at him, brown hair glistening gold in the sun as you scan the book. you look back down at the book again, reading the title. a galactic empire of descending madness. that sounds more interesting than the one he had last week, at least.

“yeah, i guess,” you reply, even if a simple ‘yes’ was a severe understatement. every night, you went home and always had stacks of books still waiting to be read. “why do you ask?”

he throws down another crumpled up twenty on the counter again. this time, you give him change.

“well–” he pulls one arm over his chest, his other arm hooking over it as he stretches. you did your best not to gaze at his muscles, or his vest hiking up slightly and revealing the smallest slither of skin at his hip, but it’s hard—especially when he looks so attractive. “–i have a project to work on. for my University. need some help with it, ‘n’… i was just wondering if you'd help?”

you stare at him in surprise. eyebrows raised, and gnawing the inside of your cheek until you taste metal, you ask, “what’s it about?”

that’s the part of the plan he’s missing. before, he couldn’t figure it out, and now he does, and it’s right in front of him. he wets his bottom lip and grabs the book and the change. the pennies clink in his pocket and he feels like a nervous wreck all over again.

why is he so nervous?

“can i get back to you on that?” he asks, his voice still somehow smooth and even.

you breathe a small chuckle, “sure.”

and he leaves again.

___

this time, when anakin appears, it’s on a sunny friday, still amidst a heatwave, and obi-wan isn’t with him. you want to frown, but for some reason, you can’t.

it’s no different than the last time he was here, yet it feels so new. you smooth out the tank top your wearing nervously as he walks– rushes through the door.

he walks forward, taking a small condescending look at the display of books, picking up the first book he sees and walking over to the counter.

he isn’t pretending to buy something this time.

the loud thud echoes in your ears as he slams the book down on the counter. padmé, who’s stacking up books in the romantic-comedies section, jumps, stealing a startled look at the pair of you before turning back around.

“let me take you to dinner,” he blurts out. his voice sounds confident, but he’s albeit shaking with nerves and shuffling in one spot.

i’m a mess, he thinks to himself for a brief second.

in the miniscule silence that follows, you want to let the silence go a little longer just to fuck with him, but you're too eager, he’s too nervous, and the sun is watching with curiosity.

“sure,” you mumble, grabbing the notebook and a pen under the counter. you flick it open and scribble down your address and your number in writing that’s almost too hard to read as you have never been too patient when it comes to writing, but as you rip the page off and hand it to him, he smiles faintly at it. an achievement. your hands brush against each other again, but neither of you acknowledge it again. just like last time.

“pick you up at six,” he says, turns around, and he’s walking out the door before you can say anything else.

___

anakin ends up picking you up at six o’clock on the dot. not a minute late and not a minute early. however, he is sitting there for a minute or two, observing your house from the driver window.

the grass outside grows at all lengths with small weeds peeking from a few of the wooden fences dotted around, which has probably been hacked away since not much of the wood remains anymore. the plant pots hold large ferns, and the trees behind the house are large oaks, thick branches branching out and leaving half of the house in a shadow. it’s small, but it looks like a home. anakin’s about to smile, but then he sees you rush out in a haste, hair glowing in the setting sun, and he freezes in his seat. all of the thoughts in his head have buried themselves, and it’s just him and his thumping heart.

“sorry i’m late,” you mumble to him as you open the door and get in. the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek and his smile, which seems like the brightest in the world, but you don’t bother to comment on it and just smile back at him. “i was caught up in an assignment, lost track of time.”

anakin breathes a chuckle, and he nods, turning on the engine with the twist of his key in the ignition. he’s surprised you haven’t noticed his hands trembling yet. “don’t worry about it.”

you can’t help but smile again. the sun’s in his eyes and they flash a mix of blue and green. his hair is golden, and for a brief minute, you wonder what it’d be like to tangle your fingers in it. you have to force herself to look away and out the window.

you don’t go that far away from the city. off to the coast where there’s a van that sells drinks. it’s only around a twenty minute drive and you were both humming to the rock songs on the radio and talking about your week. the awkward atmosphere dissipates as the evening passes. anakin could listen to you talk for hours.

you both settled for a can of coke. of course, anakin was adamant in not letting you pay. with a firm shake of his head, he gave the man in the van a crumpled up five, and only laughed at your protests. after you finally gave in, and tried to hide your smile, you went off, walking aimlessly down a path in search of somewhere to sit.

the sun cast a glowing effect on the beach they sat in front of. the tide was out, and you listened to the leaves in the trees crinkle above.

you didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

you learn a lot about each other in the ten minutes they sit on the bench. you learn a lot of things. obi-wan’s anakin’s step-brother (who’s also a lot older than him), and he tutors at the university he goes to (which he takes the train for every other morning because it’s forty minutes away), and not only that, but he has a major in engineering. anakin learns that you're studying film in a university a couple blocks away and you have a ginger cat called oscar. he reads comics and you play piano and you develop nicknames for each other and you end up walking on the beach together not long after, the sea loud and erratic. anakin never liked the feeling of sand between his toes, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be in the presence of you for a little longer.

it’s like you’ve known each other for years.

“you know,” you start, taking a sip of anakin’s half-empty coke can. you finished yours a while ago, but anakin insisted you had some of his if you really wanted. it ’s like exchanging a secret and a kiss all at the same time . “i knew from the second you walked in the bookstore, you weren’t actually a reader.”

anakin almost winces at the memory, but a boyish grin appears on his face. “was it that obvious?”

you nod, grinning. you were always good at reading people anyway, but after you got a job at the bookstore, you somehow became even better at it. most people were dragged into the bookstore by their eager friends, bored expressions plastered on their faces, yet coincidentally, when anakin and obi-wan first walked in, neither of them seemed like that.

observant in the worst ways possible.

“i only went because obi-wan dragged me in there all the time,” he replies, trying to seem unfazed by the sudden redness to the tip of his ears.

and you both chuckle, but anakin knew that deep down, it was really anakin dragging obi-wan there instead, and you maybe knew it too.

“i could get used to this,” anakin murmurs. neither of you notice how close you are until suddenly, your hands brush up against each other.

your hands always seem to be cold, anakin thinks, but your fingers interlace and the words die on his tongue. you—not confident enough to say anything without your voice shaking–don’t respond, and you instead squeeze his hand lightly instead, resisting the urge to ghost your fingers over the bruise on his cheek.

and Anakin knows. you both know. anakin might as well write it in the sand, but further away from the shore so that it doesn’t wash away.

___

when anakin comes back just after the sky has gone dark after dropping you off, he walks into the kitchen to see obi-wan leaning against the counter with a mug of hot tea in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“so?” he says expectantly. anakin stops in the doorway, trying to ignore how tense his shoulders have become. crimson stains his face and he keeps his gaze trained on the floor.

“so what?”

obi-wan looks at him with knowing eyes, “how was it?”

anakin only shrugs him off, attempting (and failing miserably) to conceal his genuine grin. “shut up.”

obi-wan only chuckles, walking past him and ruffling his hair, to which anakin sends him a glare, but obi-wan remains unfazed as he walks out the kitchen.

“you’ve fallen!” obi-wan yells as he walks through the hallway. anakin instantly grows flustered and rolls his eyes.

“have not!”

but obi-wan is many things, and a liar is not one of them.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin x you #obi wan and anakin skywalker are siblings #bookshop!au #modern!au #fluff #star wars

47 notes · View notes

lieslab · 2 days

Text

All of this turbulence wasn't forecasted

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Jeongin X gn reader

Summary: After euthanizing your pet unexpectedly, you fall apart in front of your boyfriend as grief hits.

Genre: Comfort/hurt with angst

Word Count: 3.2K

Trigger warning: Pet loss, euthanasia, grief, guilt, anxiety, and a brief mention of attempted physical assault.

_ _ _

Guilt latched onto you like a starving dog; a starving dog with jaws locked around flesh. A starving dog who hadn’t eaten in days and was so desperate and so hungry that anything would be sufficient enough to consume, even if it was you. Guilt was a starving dog.

Usually, animals made you happy, but as you sat unexpectedly in the waiting room, each new animal that came in filled your heart with dread. Longer wait times meant more patients and less space in the waiting room. Despite the TVs on each side quietly murmuring two different shows, it didn’t make you feel any better.

With your pet down at your feet, anxiety strummed in your stomach. Too many people came in with smiles. They happily chatted with the receptionists and the receptionists were so excited to see the animals for their usual check-ups.

Check-ups were so simple. A quick overview of vitals and a visit from the veterinarian about anything you might be concerned about. You knew it wasn’t fair to project your feelings at other people in the room. It wasn’t their fault you were in a shitty situation.

The room was too crowded and even though you were in your own seat in a small section, you still felt suffocated. The german shepherd on the other side of the room was barking so loud. The deep guttural noise seemed to pierce your sensitive ears like needles. Not to mention, you knew it was stirring up stress for your own pet.

Other pets in the area looked just as anxious. The shaking yorkie stayed close to the elderly woman holding the other end of the leash. With a coral colored collar around its neck, it didn’t leave the woman’s side.

A small kitten in a black plastic carrier couldn’t have been much more than a month old. Small meows mixed into the melody of faint murmuring humans. The room smelled like an antiseptic and the fear from pets afraid of the place was too obvious.

There was only one dog who seemed happy to be there. Some sort of medium mixed breed and speckled fur with cream and copper. The elongated snout seemed to be smiling. A bright pink tongue lolled from the side of its mouth. A wagging tail and the cheery owner drilled dread into your own heart.

As you glanced back down to your feet, you couldn’t help, but ponder the fate of your own pet. The sickness was so unexpected and with every minute that passed, you knew it was another minute of their suffering. You were drowning in your own guilt.

Why hadn’t you just checked on them earlier? Maybe when they seemed to be picking at their food instead of eating it normally, you should have known something was wrong. Tears threatened to prick at your eyes and all you could do was swallow your guilt and endure it all. Reaching down to stroke the top of their head, you whispered comforting words of reassurance, but you weren’t sure if they were able to understand it or not.

The room was too noisy. The dogs were getting loose fur everywhere. In another section and on top of a leathered seat, another cat was hissing. When a young man stuck his finger into the metal grate to comfort it, a paw full of claws swung. The guy hissed in pain before pulling out his hand and shaking it.

The tears were welling up more. You hated this. You hated waiting with no answers. You hated waiting and not knowing the fate of your pet. You hated vets and the overpowering antiseptic. The stupid swirly cursive handwritten sign above a well stocked coffee bar with a smiley face.

Two pots for water, a stack of to-go cups with lids, and even bags of tea. Further back, a vending machine lit up with lights. As the sun set and the outdoors grew darker, the inside and fluorescent white lights grew brighter. Veterinary assistants came out to gather histories of pets with bright colored scrubs. Photos of healthy pets lined the walls.

Where was the sympathy? Why couldn’t anyone understand what was happening? It was a goddamn emergency, your pet was suffering, so why did it seem like nobody cared? The animals were too loud. The staff was too friendly. Animals were going back to be treated and checked up on, but not one of them was yours.

Just when you were on the brink of tears, their name was finally called. You quickly got up and struggled to gather your thoughts. Your steps were wobbly. You weren’t even back there yet, hadn’t received a diagnosis, but something inside of you knew. You just knew deep down that you weren’t leaving this place like you wanted to.

You wanted to go into the warmth of your home with your pet. You wanted to lay down tonight and be reassured that it was all okay. You wanted your pet back in tip-top shape. You wanted to go back home with both of you safe and sound, but…

“I’m sorry, but I think our best option at this point is euthanasia.”

You knew it was coming, but it still stung. It was a bullet to the heart. As you stared at the sympathetic look on the vet’s face, tears pricked your eyes again. You forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat as you looked down at the creature on the cool metal table.

What had you done to end up here? Was it something you did? Could they have been saved? What if, what if, what if, what if. It was a collision of thoughts that were never-ending. Why did this have to happen to you?

You were good at being a pet parent. You prided yourself on going out of your way to buy the healthier food. Giving them the occasional treat because you thought they deserved it. Was it something in the food? Had a bag of treats expired and you just didn’t realize it?

Your bottom lip curled into your mouth. The teeth piercing the soft skin hurt, but what your pet was going through hurt so much worse. Maybe you deserved to feel the pain after this.

It took everything within you not to fall apart as you stayed by their side. You tried to soothe them through a hoarse voice, but it didn’t seem to do much. They were so lethargic, could they understand what was happening? Through the plethora of strangers, headache-inducing scents, and the whining of animals, did they understand you were just trying to help them?

You didn’t mean for the metal table to feel this cold against their skin. The piercing prick of medicine for sedation wasn’t supposed to hurt that much. Were they afraid? Did they know the end was near? Would they ever forgive you for this?

It was a miracle that you managed to stay up on your legs. The rest of your time was a blur. Payment plans, the sympathy from the staff, the cold and lonely feeling was burrowing in your bones. It swelled when the cardboard coffin was placed into the back of your car.

The name of your pet had been written neatly in tiny print. Someone drew a small tiny heart next to the name. Even by strangers, your pet had been loved up until the very end, but it didn’t feel like it.

As you stood in the darkness and stared at the box in the back of the car, you didn’t dare open it up. You didn’t want the lasting imprint of your pet to be one where they weren’t moving. You didn’t want to hold the weight of your emotional instability. Sometimes love was three pounds and other times, it was nearly a hundred.

The drive home was too quiet. Venturing through the darkness felt like a funeral procession. Knowing your deceased pet was in the trunk and it’d never be the same, it was a heavy weight to process. These things took time, but right now you felt numb.

You didn’t remember turning on your turn signal or switching lanes. You didn’t remember driving all the way home, but you did. One moment, you were zoned out on the highway, the next you were putting the car in park and glancing up at your front door.

The porch light was on and your heart sank even more. Your boyfriend was home, but you didn’t have it in yourself to greet him. You didn’t want anything to do with him or anyone right now. Right now, you wanted to be entirely alone and weep.

The kisses from your boyfriend would be bitter. Being kissed hello felt like a death sentence. After everything you went through with your pet, it didn’t feel right to get to greet the love of your life. Everything went head over heels and it was all wrong.

You should have been able to bring them home alive and they’d be fine. You shouldn’t have had to put them down. You weren’t meant for this type of grief, no one was.

You weren’t excited to see the flowers adorning the porch. Dread lined your stomach as you approached the door. Knowing Jeongin, he’d have the door open for you. He knew you were taking your animal to the vet, but you hadn’t told him it was for emergency purposes. You felt like you bothered him too much and you had hope in the beginning. You wanted it to go so much better than it had.

The moment you opened the screen door and the brass knob turned, the scent of food clouded your senses. You had barely eaten anything all day, but the idea of eating right now made you nauseous. Death clung to you and the ghost of your pet was everywhere.

From the fur on the floor to the food and water bowls staring at you. Half-consumed food remained untouched. The cold water shifted to room temperature. The food would never be consumed again. The water would never be spilled as your pet tried to lap it up.

“Hey, there you are.” Jeongin leaned his torso out of the kitchen doorway with a shy smile. “I’ve missed you. How did the appointment go?”

Your heart shattered in your chest. The lump cemented the back of your throat again. You struggled to breathe and the image of your boyfriend blurred. You didn’t get to see his face fall, not with all of your tears.

“Are you okay?” Footsteps creaked closer as he moved towards you. An outstretched hand was ready to grasp your shoulder. When it landed, you swatted it away as if it was an annoying bug.

“Don’t,” you weakly uttered, “just don’t. I don’t want to be touched right now. Please just-” your voice cut off and you squeezed your watery eyes shut. “Don’t.”

“What happened?” His hand lingered, but he did as you wished. Not once did he try to touch you again. “Where is-”

“Gone. They’re gone. They’re gone and they’re never coming back.”

Confusion wiped across his face. He tried to conjure up the meaning by scanning your body, but he couldn’t make sense of it. That would mean that they…no way. He didn’t want to believe it.

“What happened?”

“They had to be put down, okay? Something happened and they got sick. The vet said it was better to put them out of their misery, so I did. They’re gone and I’m here and life goes on.”

“But the-”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. They didn’t suffer for that long. I have to figure out where to bury them because this wasn’t supposed to happen. One moment they were fine and the next-” You cut off as you wiped your eyes. Even just talking about it was emotionally exhausting.

Jeongin frowned while watching you. He knew you didn’t like to be around people when you were struggling, but he wasn’t going to leave you alone. Not when you were like this. The food frying on a skillet back in the kitchen was the least of his worries.

“Okay,” he finally uttered, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thank you.”

His heart twisted in his chest. He dropped his arm back down to his side. He wanted nothing more than to console you, but you wouldn’t let him. It was pointless to ask because he knew he’d be rejected.

“I’m making dinner.”

“You should leave.”

His head jerked straight up as he looked at you. “I should do what? You want me…you just want me to leave?”

“I think it’s best if you do. I can’t deal with this right now. Look at me!” You gestured back to yourself. Exhaustion was stamped beneath your eyes in the form of brown bags. Your hair wasn’t neatly combed like it usually was. Your eyes were bloodshot and the apples of your cheeks were lined with tear streaks.

“But you probably haven’t eaten properly and you need to eat something.”

“Get out.”

“Sweetheart…” “Get out!” Your sharp voice raised. “Just get out! Go away! Leave me alone!” The nearest object at your disposal was a beige pillow on the couch. You couldn’t stop it as anger ignited in your veins. You grabbed the pillow and chucked it at his head.

It fell flat before it even reached his body. A sense of sadness began to well up inside of Jeongin. Not because you told him to leave, but because he knew you were grieving. He couldn’t imagine what you were internally going through right now.

You had that pet for quite a while. If he would have known a situation like this was happening, he would have been there for you. He would have been right by your side at the vet. He would have held your hand while you consoled your pet.

He would have driven you home and let you cope. He would have done whatever it took to ease the pain and suffering. He thought it was just a check-up. He thought the two of you would come home like normal and everything would be okay. He had no idea the true extent of your shattered reality.

“Why are you still there? Get out! Go away! I said leave!” You gestured to the door. “So leave! I don’t want you here anymore. I’ll call the goddamn cops.”

“No, you won’t. I’m not going anywhere. You can yell at me if it makes me feel better. You can scream until your lungs give out. Hit me if it’ll make you feel any better, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Your bottom lip began to quiver. Tears silently crept down your cheeks again. At this moment, you hated him. You hated him for sticking around and watching you become so vulnerable. You hated this so much. You just wanted the grief and the pain to stop, but it was everywhere.

It was the picture of your pet on your wall. The fur floating off the pillow you threw at him. It was the softness of their fur still ingrained in your head. The way they made you laugh on your worst days and were there to fuel your fire on your best.

The memories were like fire and they wouldn’t stop spreading. Everywhere you looked, memories were there. The couch where they used to lay. The kitchen where they begged for a bite of your food. No matter where you turned, it wouldn’t stop. You were suffocating in the smoke of it all and there was nothing available to distinguish it.

“I’m not going anywhere because I love you.”

“Then stop loving me.”

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen. You don’t have to pretend to be strong here. You don’t have to pretend to be okay and you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. No matter how much you cry, even if it’s enough tears to drown me, I’ll still love you.”

You didn’t utter another word as he opened his arms out to you. A loving gesture, even after the bitter words you spat and the pillow you threw. Most people would have given up and walked out, but not Jeongin.

He didn’t let up. He stood there with his arms up and waited for you to approach him. He knew you were on the verge of bursting into sobs. You were desperately trying to hold them back, but you couldn’t stop the whimper from climbing out of the back of your throat.

“Honey, you’re not okay and that’s okay.”

That’s all it took before a sob burst through your lips. Your knees buckled and down you went towards the floor. Jeongin rushed forward and tugged you into his arms by the cotton of your shirt. He sunk down with you onto the floor as sobs reverberated through your chest.

Everything you held back came pouring out. You gasped for air and struggled to suck in air through tears, but it wasn’t enough. In pure desperation, your fingers clung to Jeongin’s shirt. There was nothing to save you from this inner turmoil of pain.

“I know, I know. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Go ahead and let it all out.”

Your cries got louder and louder. The familiar scent of his baby powder shampoo crept into your nose. You clung to him like a life preserver. Your lungs were perfectly intact, but it felt like they had been sliced. The flesh responsible for controlling your oxygen seemed unresponsive.

Your head sat over his shoulder. Your limbs wrapped around him like a koala, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind that your heart rapidly thumped against his own chest. In fact, he welcomed it.

You would never be too much for him. This grief was not the monster you thought it was. It would rear its ugly head and it would buck, attempting to puncture his heart, but it would never scare him away. Your words, no matter how sharp, he knew you’d never speak to him like that unless you were hurting.

Grief is hard and we’re just humans, stardust trapped in bodies and given souls to experience humanity; the good and the bad. He stood by you at your best times and he’d continue to do it at your worst.

Minutes passed by or maybe hours. You didn’t know, you lost track of it as your eyes drooped. Soft hiccups filtered through steady breaths and your eyes shut. Exhaustion from the day’s events were finally catching up to your weary soul. Jeongin’s hand never once stopped rubbing your back.

“Just get some sleep, honey. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You couldn’t resist the urge to shut your eyes anymore. Life was hard and losing a beloved pet made it ten times harder. With your cheek pressed into the side of his shoulder, you knew sleep would likely bring a nightmare. If not, you’d wake up to one.

Jeongin knew that too, but he also knew that with him being here, you’d find the comfort you needed from him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was still the better alternative than you being alone. Every good love story was laced with loss and vulnerability, but also hope. Hope; for a new beginning, for peace, for understanding, and for love.

There’s no point in loving without hope.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stay #skz fanfic #yang jeongin #yang jeongin fic #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x you #yang jeongin x y/n #yang jeongin angst

38 notes · View notes

daughter-lilith · 2 days

Text

❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 5 | Read Part 4 here Not the final part. I unintentionally lied in my last post?? I explain at the end of this update. For now, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+

CW (For whole story): Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Grief, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 7.5k

A downpour of emotions flooded Halsin’s heart all at once. His entire body trembled, heart pounding violently in his ears, and the bear within banged against an invisible cage, claws protruding, swiping, and slashing. The beast roared, the force so tremendous and powerful that Halsin felt it in his bones, surging through his veins like wildfire, and he tossed his head back and thundered an agonizing roar of his own. He felt his eyes burning, cheeks wet and stained with violent tears. When his screaming seized, his throat stung, and the muscles in his arms felt tight and sore as he clenched his fists so hard that the veins in his arms began to bulge. Halsin lowered his head, glaring through watery eyes at the vacant space you once occupied only moments ago.

His shoulders slumped and he finally unclenched his fists, though it only made the trembling in his arms and body worse. He nearly flinched when he felt a sudden warmth wrap itself around his frame, half aware of blue flames flickering on the side of his vision. “Oh Halsin,” the voice said. It sounded like Karlach, but he could hardly see, could hardly think. His mind was dazed, lost, the only function he was aware of was the endless tears leaking from his eyes.

Another set of warmth came around him, then something like a hand on his back. Halsin just sat there, on his knees, hair disheveled with several strands hanging in front of his eyes. Someone squeezed him tighter, sniffling near his ears. His stomach felt so unbelievably tight, his chest heavy and straining under an invisible weight. Images of your teary eyes looking up at him crowded his mind; the thin trails of blood that seeped down the side of your chin as you spoke your final words. It was a dream. No, a nightmare. It had to be.

The two of you were still back home, lying in bed, your naked bodies entangled in one another. The sun’s light was still spilling through the open windows, shimmering over your skin. You were still tracing lazy patterns over the hairs on his strong chest, blessing him with your beautiful gaze and occasional kisses. Nature was still singing just outside of your home, the sweet melodies inviting you both to enjoy the new day. Halsin would roll you on your side, settling himself behind you, feeling the bareness of your body curving so perfectly into him. He would—

“It should have been me… Vlaakith—” a familiar voice stirred Halsin away from the dream, painfully bringing him back into this nightmare.

The rocky surface of the Astral Plane flickered back into view, and he heard her speak again. It was Lae’zel— her voice was lower, faltering as she choked to get her words out. “That was my death. Mine.”

Halsin squeezed his eyes shut, his heart crumbling further. The bear within slumped on the floor, defeated, panting, and exhausted. “Do not say that,” he said, his voice dry and throat still burning. Halsin felt no rage towards Lae’zel, and he knew you wouldn’t want him to. There was only one person responsible, and Lae’zel had already laid her to waste.

He felt a gentle hand rest on his knee, tentative and almost fearful. He was more aware now, of the embrace and physical consolation around him. He could feel their sorrow, their grief, their pain both for him and themselves. No further words were said, only the sounds of quiet weeping and the eerie current of the Astral Plane. Halsin’s head swarmed with a million thoughts as his arms started to feel numb and heavy, useless. The magic that flowed through his essence felt hollow and drained like it too was drowning in the sudden loss.

Halsin thought back to the glowing, healing blue light that he desperately tried to pour into you. And yet it did nothing to heal you, nothing to sustain you long enough to get you out of the Planes. What good was it to be gifted with these powers, to wield such powerful magic that did nothing when he needed it most? They had the means to revive those lost, but there needed to be something to revive.

His heart lurched as the flat of his hands felt the cold ground. Where you should’ve been. Where he, Shadowheart, Gale, anyone could’ve brought you back. But there was nothing to bring back, for the damned Astral Plane robbed him of the chance. Stealing you away when you belonged to Faerûn, belonged to him; his greatest confidant, lover, and best friend.

Oak Father… Halsin thought to himself, desperate for aid, for another chance. He was Silvanus’ chosen, one of his most devout followers, surely he would not forsake Halsin now. But even Halsin knew divine intervention did not come lightly or often. And he knew better than anyone that Silvanus was a god of nature; of respecting its balance, the cycle of life, and sometimes the fierce unpredictability of everything nature brings. To even think of asking the Oak Father for such aid may be considered blasphemous, for he was not a god of necromancy but—

Halsin’s eyes shot open, his blood pumping with purpose. And with renewed strength, he rose higher on his knees, stirring those who embraced him.

“Halsin?” Karlach questioned, letting her arms fall away from him as Halsin now stood to his feet. “What is it?”

Halsin glanced at her, eyes frantic, heart racing. The others peered at him curiously, wiping their faces as they kept their attention on the risen druid. “Withers,” he uttered, his heart rate increasing by the second as he darted his gaze towards Gale whose eyes were red and patchy.

“When have you all seen him last?” Halsin inquired, an intense severity in his voice as his words came out rushed and eager. He quickly swept his eyes over all of his companions, waiting for one, anyone to respond first.

“It’s… it’s been years,” Shadowheart answered first, her cheeks and nose a deep rose, flushed with tears.

Wyll groaned as he moved to stand, and he swiftly used his armored wrist to wipe beneath his nose. “Not since our first reunion,” he added.

“You don’t think…” Gale pondered, eyes slowly widening with realization.

Halsin nodded firmly. “I do.” It had been two decades since they last saw and spoke to Withers. After the first reunion, the skeletal being teleported everyone to their respective homes and journeys, bidding them a very blessed farewell. They had long carried suspicions there was more to Withers than he let on. That he was more than a keeper of records or scribe, but an old, mysterious god perhaps. Still, none of them ever pressed the issue, content with the consistent aid Withers bestowed. But they needed that aid once more— Halsin needed it.

Astarion paced around the group, waving his hands hastily. “Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s go wake up the old bastard.”

Halsin strode towards Gale and Shadowheart, each step swift, his presence demanding before he even said a word. They both stared up at him with an anxious gleam in their eyes beneath the haze of sorrow. When Halsin spoke, his words came out rapidly, hands trembling. “She once told me you all found Withers in some sort of crypt only a few miles from the Grove, how- how quickly can you open a portal there?”

“Um- I- well,” Gale stammered, the wheels in his head turning.

Karlach stepped by Halsin’s side, blue flames still dancing along her skin and hair. “Would he even be willing to help us again? It’s been so long.”

“We must try,” a sharp voice responded. Halsin glanced at Lae’zel who was still kneeling on the ground, her head still bowed.

Shadowheart, frowning, closed her eyes briefly while she turned away. She exhaled a deep breath before speaking, gathering herself. “Halsin… our magic is sapped. We only have the portal we came here in. Perhaps we should rest first and then—

“No,” Halsin’s thunderous voice rumbled the ground beneath their feet. “There is no time for rest. We will merge our energies, focus on the task and make a way.” He spoke with an intense conviction, his tone low. It was not in the way one would speak to their friends, but how a leader would speak to their followers—how an Archdruid would enact their commands.

Silence followed his orders as Halsin eyed everyone in turn, taking in their wary and doubtful appearances. Only Astarion seemed just as impatient as he was, ready to follow whatever was needed. From beyond their group, he noticed Minsc’s lumbering frame posed in front of a horde of allied githyanki warriors, becoming a barrier against those who were curious over their crestfallen victors.

Halsin tightened his brows, his heart loud in his ears as the bear within huffed, displeased at the hesitance before him. “All of you,” he ordered, “reach into the Weave, and link yourselves with me.”

A tender and somewhat firm hand rested on his shoulder. Halsin turned his head to find Wyll, the scars on his face as sullen as his expression. “Brother please, let’s not be hasty. Time is different here, right? If we rest in the Planes, perhaps only a few more minutes would have passed in Faerûn.”

Halsin sneered and shoved his hand off him, marching a few steps away from the group. Fists and teeth clenched, he stared off into the ethereal Planes, a wave of anguish and rage threatening to throw him off his balance. A part of him knew his friends were right, that they needed to rest. His own magic felt faint and dull due to the many times he wild-shaped or desperately tried to heal you.

“Where are you, Withers?” he mumbled roughly, unable to ignore the heat boiling in his blood.

Behind him, Halsin could feel his friends’ silent thoughts, their concern and hesitation to approach him. If they couldn’t help, he’d have to figure it out on his own. Why did he have to bend to time’s will? No. There was always a way, and he would find it as soon as possible.

“H-Halsin?” he heard Gale ask, but Halsin only sighed internally refusing to respond. If Gale could not help him, then there was nothing more to say.

Karlach’s voice arose next, urgent. “Halsin, look.”

Just as she spoke, he felt a surge of energy consume the space around him. A great power that felt foreign to the Astral Plane. Turning, Halsin’s eyes widened at the sight of a massive, green, spherical portal hovering a short distance away from the group. A familiar gaunt figure emerged, dressed in worn dark robes as they sauntered casually into the Planes. Halsin’s stomach lurched and a rush of the most extreme sensation of hope filled his chest. It couldn’t possibly be…and so quickly…

“I have heard thine’s call.” Withers. His rumbling echo of a voice still carried a weight of eeriness and an underlying power. “Once separated by the influence of time, our paths once again merge. Does thou require my services once more?” His dark, hollow eyes passively swept over the stunned companions before deftly landing and remaining on Halsin.

Halsin took three long strides toward the undead entity, his breathing rapidly increasing. He moved like he was almost going to tackle the fragile-appearing figure until Karlach’s strong hand tugged at his forearm.

“Easy there, soldier,” Karlach urged. “Breathe first.”

Halsin swallowed, trying to steady himself while Withers observed coolly, undisturbed by Halsin’s intensity. Towering over the undead man, he took one deep breath, speaking with purpose. “You’ve aided us before- can you aid us now? A resurrection. Any price.”

Withers surveyed Halsin silently, then examined the appearance of his friends before calmly strolling in between the group. With his gaunt arms folded behind his back, he hummed to himself as though analyzing the results of an experiment. Halsin watched intensely as the undead man continued to take in his surroundings. His heart dropped as he watched Withers stop at the very spot Halsin last held you, where he lost you.

“Ah, a hero has fallen,” Withers droned. “A great loss indeed.”

Halsin moved towards him, heart hammering. “Can you bring her back? Please.”

“Please, Withers,” Karlach added, frowning as she stepped near Halsin.

Withers was still for a moment then closed his hollow eyes, extending his skeletal arm over the area you fell. A glowing, green light illuminated his arm and Halsin watched with bated breath as the bear within paced frantically.

Withers made a few humming noises, some faint mumbling as his hand glowed brighter. His hand swayed in side-to-side motions like he was brushing something away or searching through a pile. Withers twitched, and the light burst in his hand before dimming completely. Halsin’s heart dropped at the sight, a part of him sensing something was wrong. Then Withers, ever so calmly, opened his eyes.

“Alas, their spirit has not been found, for it does not linger in the realm of where my power extends.”

Halsin stumbled, his stomach twisting. “What? Then where!?” he bellowed, his thunderous voice powerful enough to shatter the rocks they stood on.

Withers answered, impassive. “I cannot answer, for I do not possess the knowledge of such an answer. Such truths are beyond even my grasp.”

“So there is nothing you can do?” Halsin raged, incredulous. His voice was caught between yelling and trying to control his erratic breaths. “There is nothing you can do? She is just lost, gone forever?”

Withers raised a hand as if to calm him. “The Astral Planes are but a single thread of existence in the great cosmos. Fear not, mortal one, for fate spins as it should. What is lost may simply be lost, not gone.”

“Tsk’va! What good is a master necromancer who cannot perform this very task!” Lae’zel was on her feet now, pointing her sharp nails in Withers’ direction. “Htak’a! Is there nothing you can do!”

“Well isn’t this just marvelous,” Astarion crooned, incredulous. “Our magic is useless, the gods are quiet, and the one oh-so-powerful undead who has helped us several times before suddenly- cannot. How wonderful.”

Halsin surveyed Withers’ decrepit face as he stood almost apathetically, his body unmoving. It was hard to tell what he was feeling within those dark, obsidian eyes—if he was feeling anything at all. Withers seemed utterly unfazed by the chorus of frustrations and the occasional insults directed his way. He had never been one to show a heightened level of emotion before, why would the undead entity begin now? After another moment, Halsin turned away, taking several steps while his mind drifted and the voices of his friends grew muffled with each passing second.

The realm around him suddenly felt so distant and veiled, like he was ambling his way through a cryptic, blurred dream. A dream where angry voices were shouting in the distance but he could not decipher what they were saying, nor did he have the means to care. Withers could not help him, which meant Halsin could not bring you back. You were not just lost to him, you were gone, even your soul was apparently nowhere to be found.

The weight of Halsin’s shoulders felt painfully burdensome, his muscles tight and sore, legs threatening to betray him. The druid was defeated, broken beyond repair. Halsin looked down, bringing the palm of his hands into view at the same time. His calloused hands were streaked with crimson, a notable tremor in both. He lowered his arms and inhaled a deep breath, feeling his heart sink as a tide of gloom and agony tore through his body, penetrating his mind. Even the bear and all his wild shapes retreated deep within his essence, burrowing into the darkest corners they could find.

Halsin lifted his gaze, noticing that Withers was standing before him again, a curious glint in his sunken eyes. His friends were out of his vision, behind him, still arguing amongst themselves about what to do next or which god to call upon. As for Halsin, he had a new goal.

“Withers,” Halsin uttered, quiet as to not alert the others. “May I request one last thing, and I will no longer seek your services.”

Withers did not respond verbally, he simply tilted his head and blinked as though he were permitting Halsin to proceed.

“May you grant me a portal to The High Forest? I wish to go alone. No followers.”

Withers seemed to consider, then very faintly bowed his head.“As thou wishes.” Withers turned, lifting his hand with his palm outward as though he was ordering someone to stop. Green orbs began to glow in the center of his hollowed eyes and in the next moment, a shimmering, emerald portal flickered to life before them.

The druid stared at the sphere of green light and mist buzzing with power, waiting to be used. Halsin, posture sullen, began to step towards the waiting portal but stopped just before entering. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of hasty steps rushing towards him. Withers lifted a hand, and his friends were instantly repelled by an invisible barrier, splitting them from Halsin.

“Hey, what the fuck is this Withers!” Karlach shouted, the pain in her voice palpable.

“Be at ease, child of fire. For the druid has requested to journey in solitude.”

Karlach scoffed, banging once at the transparent bubble that shimmered on each contact. “Journey huh? Wherever you think you’re going, big guy, we’re coming with you!”

“No,” Halsin responded, stern. “This is a path I tread alone now.” He turned away, fully facing the portal again, unable to hold her grievous eyes any longer. “Forgive me for this dejected departure, and goodbye my friends.”

“So, that’s it then?” Astarion yelled, taking a turn to thrash at the barrier. “You’re leaving us, too?” His voice seemed to choke and a harsh hiss escaped as he breathed.

“No, brother! We should stick together,” Wyll chimed in, a faint crack in his voice, “now more than ever.”

Halsin closed his eyes, stung by the pain in their voices, the desperate need to cling close together. But his heart was drained and weak, his body dense and heavy— soul shattered. And his friends, they were too much of a reminder of what they all lost.

The shouts and cries of their pleas tormented him, hearing their aggressive pounding on the magical barrier. He heard curses at Withers, vocal incantations, and consistent calls for his name. But the elf’s mind had been set, he wanted out of this blasted Plane- alone. And they could not convince him otherwise. So without sparing another glance, Halsin, head hung a bit low, walked through the portal crafted just for him. Immediately, he was greeted by tall trees and a fading sun as the sound of a loud whoosh erupted behind him, and the portal vanished.

Two years had passed since Halsin lost you. Two years since he walked away from his friends in the Astral Plane, effectively cutting himself off from any contact. The mighty elf found himself sitting in a tavern along the northern part of the Sword Coast, in the coastal city of Neverwinter that was a few hundred miles north of Waterdeep. He was pausing for the night to restock before he headed even further north, deep into the wilderness, alone once again.

Two years since he left the Astral Plane, and two years since he returned to a life of roaming, lacking the strength to return home. After spending days mourning in The High Forest, Halsin knew he couldn’t go back to the home you and him created together. His home was solely with nature now, in every and any region he could reach. Unfortunately for him, his current path had him passing through a city at his displeasure, for it had been quite some time since Halsin was surrounded by such dense civilization that the noise of collective chatter felt foreign to him.

Just the one night, he reminded himself. One night, then he would proceed north to Icewind Dale, the furthest reach of the northwestern coast, and deep into the forests along the mountainside. Winter was coming, and the bear was craving a long rest far away from civilization.

Halsin sat in the corner of the lively tavern, next to long open windows that gave a wide view of the beach and sea beyond. He hadn’t meant to pass through such a busy place, but aimlessly found himself traveling along the coast on his way north, directly into the heart of Neverwinter. While he was there, he chose to stop to fill his belly, and perhaps stay for at least half a night to rest before he packed up and moved on.

He would occasionally scan the massive room, drawn towards the bard’s lively tune on stage and the many patrons who linked arms and danced to the joyous melody. They laughed and swirled, some still holding their jugs in hand while their feet carried them across the wooden floors. Radiant musical notes hovered around the stage with some floating above the dancing patrons, the sparkling magic leaping to the same rhythm.

Halsin noted the bliss on everyone’s faces, and he wanted to smile, to bask in the jubilant energy… but joy seemed to no longer have a home in Halsin’s heart. It had been two years since he last felt a genuine smile smooth its way onto his face. Two years since he laughed and danced, losing himself to the enthralling tunes amongst wonderful company.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching before he took a sip of the harsh gin, hot and brutal down his throat. He used to detest the stronger liquors but found more comfort in them these days. The potent burn of the taste was but a brief discomfort, a door that opened into the calmness that followed.

Halsin’s eyes swept across the coastline from his seat, his mind partially adrift. But he wasn’t oblivious to the curious glances and hushed whispers when he first walked in, even more so once he found a place to sit down. For an elf the size of a half-orc, he was used to the wondrous stares whenever he entered new places.

Feeling an oncoming presence, Halsin turned to find two patrons sauntering towards him—a drow and a half-elf. They seemed young; the half-elf couldn’t have been over sixty, and the drow could have been anywhere between thirty and two hundred. They both wore playful smirks as they approached, eyeing Halsin keenly.

The drow stopped in front of the table. Her pink eyes, like cherry blossoms, analyzed Halsin’s face with a sparkle of excitement. “We don’t mean to intrude but… are you the Archdruid Halsin?” Her voice was smooth as silk, white hair brushed neatly down her back.

Halsin cleared his throat, leaning back, and the wooden seat creaked slightly under his weight as he moved. “Former Archdruid.”

Their eyes widened in delight and the half-elf stepped forward. “But still a master I’m sure. We’ve heard many... intriguing things about you, one being that you can turn into a bear for hours,” the half-elf exclaimed with a praising voice, his green eyes full of interest. He then gestured to the vacant seating across from Halsin. “May we?”

Halsin thought about it for a moment, torn between clinging to his solitude and not wanting to deny a potentially friendly conversation. It had been weeks since he had a proper chat with anyone, perhaps it was time to mend that. So he nodded his head and the pair eagerly slid in across.

The drow leaned forward, the descending sun emphasizing the pink in her irises, extenuated by her lilac skin. Before she spoke, her lips curved into a slight frown. “Apologies but, we couldn’t help but notice you seemed rather… downtrodden. Lonely, even.”

“A hero of Baldur’s Gate deserves company,” said the half-elf, a friendly smirk on his face.

Halsin half chuckled, darting his eyes between the pair. He analyzed their postures, how they leaned closer to the table in his direction, but also how their shoulders and arms touched naturally… familiar. Their clothing was sleek and tight fitting, save for the long thin coat the half-elf wore. They were both matching with a deep royal blue, fashioned with golden embroidery patterns, wealth seemed to be of no trouble to them.

“I rather enjoy quiet time alone,” Halsin told the pair, their smiles mildly falling. “But I will not shy away from welcoming conversation.”

The drow smirked, blinking slowly through her long lashes. “If it’s solitude you seek, you’ve chosen a rather interesting establishment.”

Halsin released a soft, quick laugh. “Interesting indeed. But I am just passing through.”

“Oh? And to where is your true destination, might we ask?” inquired the half-elf, a genuine intrigue in his tone.

“Further north, near the mountains,” Halsin told them, terse, not wanting to divulge the specifics.

“Hmm, there’s not much fun up there,” said the half-elf. “And the cold can be frigid and unforgiving I hear.”

The drow nodded in agreement. “You should stay here, basking in the gentle warmth of the city. This place is called Neverwinter for a reason, courtesy of the elemental magic warming our waters.”

Halsin sighed, taking a moment to glance out the window towards the sea. The air was strangely warm there, considering how north they were and almost at the turn of the next season. “Tempting but… my purpose remains. I am here for the night and journey onward tomorrow.”

The drow pursued her lips like she was thinking, a hint of a sulk on her dark-painted lips. She glanced briefly at her partner before locking eyes with Halsin again. She slid her nails across the table in the direction of Halsin’s mug, stopping just shy of his fingers. “Well then, former Archdruid, since we are pressed for time, allow us to be forward with you. We’ve heard more tales than just that of your bear but that you are also quite… skilled in other aspects.”

Halsin inspected them closely, humming in response with a slight tilt of his head. The faintest smirk touched his face, but he said nothing, curious to hear more of the presumably oncoming proposal.

Beside the drow, her partner spoke. “If you are interested,” he began, his green eyes bright against the contrast of his pure black hair. “We’d like to invite you to share in our bed tonight. A hero deserves to be praised, after all.”

Halsin leaned back slightly, his finger obliviously tapping against his mug. A faint feeling simmered deep within his abdomen as he surveyed the couple. The lightest stir of a change in his pulse. As he began to ponder, the drow quickly continued their request.

“You needn’t do much, master Halsin. It would be our pleasure to take care of you,” she murmured sweetly, one slender finger of hers daring to stroke along Halsin’s. “But we also wouldn’t be opposed to more… wilder sides of your druidic charms.”

“Just for the night,” the half-elf added with a sly smile. He confidently placed both hands on the table, slowly clasping them together while he awaited the druid’s answer.

Halsin gave a deep intake of breath, slow and pondering. His gaze shifted between the couple across him, their eyes watching him eagerly, a hidden flush of want and need. Halsin, in his long life, was no stranger to the attention of being desired. Many considered him to be quite exotic, awakening things within themselves when Halsin was in their sights. And it had been long since he felt the touch of another, the touch of you….

He felt himself take another deep breath as a flutter of the faintest nerves danced in his abdomen. He could not deny that the couple before him were pleasing to the eyes, and they were open and willing to invite him into their private lives for the night.

Halsin had willingly secluded himself to the bellies of nature almost entirely, like he was betrothed to it alone. But he was never promised to it. And right now that very nature was reminding him of the many gifts it offered. To deny it was to deny nature itself.

Halsin raised his mug to his lips and then downed the rest of the strong liquid once and for all. He kept his eyes on the pair as he did this and watched as the drow parted her mouth, her bottom lip seemed to quiver with an unseen gasp.

“Alright,” Halsin said, feeling a warmth pass through his torso as he agreed. “Just for the night.”

The drow clasped her hands with an excited giggle as the half-elf simply smirked and nodded his head. Halsin watched him rise, then extended his arm out to the side. “Let us lead the way, we rest our heads not far from here.”

Halsin stood from his seat and immediately towered over the couple, especially the drow. He heard a pleasing breath leave the half-elf’s mouth as his eyes swept over Halsin’s frame with unabashed praise. The druid noticed a few patrons casting curious glances at the trio as they strode through the tavern toward one of the exits.

Halsin’s long cloak swayed with him as he marched with confident strides through the streets while the pair occasionally glanced over their shoulders to ensure he was still there. But despite the confident advance in his long legs, and the even and focused expression he wore, Halsin’s stomach proceeded to twist and flip. It was not the first time he experienced such a feeling before acts of physical intimacy, but it was rare when it came to strangers. He was confident in his performance and cared not for the opinions and judgments of those he did not know, so why was a storm brewing within?

“We’re here,” the drow suddenly said, turning towards a grand, three-story home that was connected to a row of other houses and shops.

Halsin repressed his anxious thoughts and walked up the few steps into the house. Inside was warm, and the smell of pure vanilla and something unknown to him filled his nose, but it was sweet and inviting, sultry even. Halsin strolled further in, stepping on a rather expensive-looking red rug that covered dark brown flooring.

“This way, please.” The drow winked at him before strolling up a wide staircase with the half-elf on her heels.

Halsin exhaled, steadily aware of the rising beat of his heart. He followed them up the stairs, the steps croaking beneath his mighty weight. A breeze from an open window tickled his face and swayed his cloak as they reached the top of the stairs. The gentle song of windchimes rattled throughout the quiet house, save for the sounds of distant voices on the streets and the trio’s concentrated footsteps inside.

The couple led Halsin into a lavish, quiet room with several accents of reds and purples: the curtains, sheets, and various flowers adorning two massive wardrobes. There was a large bed at the center, decorated with bulky pillows and another red rug beneath the bed’s stand.

Halsin came to a stop but swayed slightly as a shift in his heartbeat caused a quick intake of breath. His stomach was beginning to tighten, much to his dismay, but he willed himself to force those sensations away. This was far from his first experience with couples— two at once was neither a challenge nor spectacle, so why was his body acting as such?

A sharp but quiet sigh drew from his lips at the feeling of the drow knowingly brushing her shoulder along Halsin’s side as she sauntered past him and toward the bed. She spun around once she reached the end of the bed, her movement slow and alluring. The half-elf gave Halsin a sultry wink as he came to stand parallel to her but with enough room in between. With a tantalizing smile, the half-elf gestured his arm towards the space between the couple, an invitation.

“Come, master druid, let us care for you,” the drow droned, a sultry purr calling out to him. Inside, the bear stirred, curious at the hint of long-dormant sensations being gradually stimulated.

Halsin half smiled, rolling his shoulders back which made him appear even taller, a powerful presence. “Remove your garments first. When there are more than one involved, it brings me pleasure to stand as a witness for a short time,” he told them with a confident pitch. However, his words were not entirely true.

While he did enjoy watching one rid themselves of the fabrics that shielded what nature blessed them with, he wasn’t one to linger on the sidelines much when other parties were involved, typically joining the affair with haste. But he felt the strangest need to give himself time, to ease the lurking monster of nerves threatening to simmer across his torso.

“Show me how you care for each other, and how you would wish to care for me,” Halsin said, the vigor of his voice deep and unintentionally commanding.

But this only seemed to entice the couple more. Obliging, the half-elf reached behind the drow’s neck and drew her in for an immediate, deep, needy kiss. A soft whine left her lips as the half-elf moved his hand to fiddle with the back of her constricting gown, loosening the ties and freeing her skin from its embrace. Halsin huffed a small pocket of hair, watching as her perky, lilac breasts bounced lightly. The half-elf groaned as her slender hands moved deftly over his buttoned trousers. With experienced speed and grace, the couple wasted no time freeing themselves from what few layers they wore.

Halsin readjusted his stance in response to a familiar twitch fueling his blood. The scent of a swelling salacity fluttered in the bedroom as the couple fondled and caressed the smooth, hairless planes of their bodies. Halsin quietly admired the curve of the drow’s body and the tight lines of muscle in the half-elf’s lithe physique. He watched her pull him into a searing, wet kiss, slowly reaching upward to thread her fingers through his short, black hair. The half-elf left her lips, gliding his tongue down her neck and chest before closing his lips over one of her violet nipples.

A satisfied sigh left her mouth as she tilted her head back, exposing her long neck. She yelped as the half-elf's other hand slipped between her thighs, and Halsin could barely make out his thumb running down the middle of her folds, disappearing within. His large chest rose and fell as he watched the pair, a low heat tingling over his skin. He could almost imagine the bear within rising on all fours, enticed to watch more.

The half-elf licked a long trail back up her chest, capturing her lips in another heated kiss. The drow chuckled lightly as she placed both of her palms flat on her lover's chest, halting him from further movements. “Patience my darling,” she murmured, nearly breathless. “We have another to pleasure tonight.”

The half-elf gave a closed-mouthed grin before releasing her. She turned away from him, her naked body facing Halsin fully, chest slick from her lover’s kisses. She was a beautiful creature, Halsin could not deny it. Nature was often incredibly talented with its canvases. Her eyes peered at him, dark with lust, cheeks already so flushed, and Halsin released an unstable breath as she sauntered towards him.

“Join us, master druid. Grant us your touch,” she purred, closing the short distance in little time. She placed a tender hand at the center of Halsin’s clothed chest. “Grant us the pleasures of your taste.”

A peculiar feeling cut across his stomach when she touched him, like a spark, but it was unlike one of sudden pleasure or pain. He couldn’t quite interpret it and cared not to, for it was fleeting, already gone the moment he started to ponder about it.

From behind the drow, Halsin caught the eye of the half-elf sitting on the bed, leaning back on his elbow, his bare legs wide open as he observed his lover and the druid. The half-elf reached for his long erection that rested on his thigh and began slowly playing with himself, as though in anticipation to watch his drow lover seduce and praise the druid.

“So thick with muscle,” the drow breathed as her hand traveled along the wide planes of Halsin’s strong chest. Her eyes roved over him appraisingly, and she leaned up towards his face, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “And such scars… a true fighter you are.” Her breath tickled his skin and a shiver ran down his back, accompanied by the same bizarre flip in his stomach. Still, Halsin felt himself swelling, breaching against the confines of his trousers.

The drow raised one hand to the side of his face and gently coaxed him to bend down towards her. Halsin caught a light floral aroma hovering over her skin as she rose on her toes, closing the distance. Her breath felt surprisingly cool as she angled her chin towards his mouth. Halsin watched her closely, her pupils so dilated with a brazen desire like she was already intoxicated from the exertion of passion before they even began.

With bated breath, he watched her eyelids close as her lips pressed softly against his own. Another flip inside his stomach, this time stronger, fiercer. A shiver rocketed over his skin but it wasn’t pleasurable, and his abdomen tightened. Halsin stood still, the wheels in his head spinning, his entire body growing rigid with each passing second. It felt bizarre, it felt wrong. The drow’s touch felt wrong, his body rejecting.

“You can kiss me, druid,” the drow murmured, smiling as she stared into his eyes after pulling away briefly. She leaned forward once more but Halsin drew back, causing her to gasp softly in surprise as her hand fell away.

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” he said, as gently as he could. All desire that was rising in his blood was rapidly waning, his heart pacing for other reasons entirely. Even the firmness of his cock began to reverse, the interest in what was to come no longer enough to awaken it.

The drow simply smiled, whining playfully. “Aww, don’t say that.” She bit her bottom lip, staring at his mouth with supreme volumes of yearning. “I can be slower if you’d like. I can ease all of the tension I know is trapped in those broad shoulders.” She reached for his face again—

“You cannot.” Halsin gripped her wrist, not enough to harm her but enough to seize her movements. The sternness in his voice sliced through the room, the aura of an Archdruid, destroying all flavor of the carnal atmosphere.

A flicker of surprise and fear flashed in her pink irises, and from the corner of his eye he noticed the half-elf take a cautious step towards them, eyes narrowed, but Halsin continued. “There is only one whose touch I crave most, and I will not find that here. May you both enjoy yourselves.” He let go of her wrist, then glanced once at the half-elf before turning his large body away from the couple and headed out of the bedroom.

The last he remembered was their dumbfounded stares as he turned to leave, having not a single care about what else they might have to say to convince him to stay. They still had each other, far more than what Halsin had, and that would have to be enough.

Halsin was already back outside, marching faster through the streets than he realized, ignoring all curious glances and stares along the way. The indecipherable noises, faces, and scents were a blur as he almost blindly strode down the stone-paved streets. His heart was hammering, his breathing coming in rapid, trembling currents. He needed to be alone again, to throw himself into the solitude that he should’ve never released in the first place.

His large legs brought him back to the lodgings adjacent to the tavern. He stormed inside, ignoring any greetings, and made his way upstairs where the volume from the streets became muffled. Halsin rushed through his door, slamming it behind him, and immediately fell forward against it. His forearm was leaning against the large door, with his head resting against the taut muscle.

He stared aimlessly at the mahogany floor, so incredibly aware of his blood rushing through his veins. “My heart,” he uttered, shakily. “I need you.” Images of your sweet face flooded his mind, the harmonious sounds of your laughter echoing in his ears, a faint memory.

Maybe two years was too soon, maybe he needed more time. He immediately buried that thought, there would never be enough time. “You are still all I want,” Halsin whispered, feeling his eyes starting to burn, naively hoping you’d somehow respond.

“Silvanus give me strength.” He closed his eyes, desperately trying to level his breathing, to calm his thundering heart.

It had been two years since he felt the true touch of another. Two years since he felt your touch. For someone of his lifespan, one would think he'd be immune to the effects of two simple years. But it was far from simple. Two years felt like two lifetimes without you by his side. Nature offered him a chance today to reap its bounties, but his heart was unmoved, his flesh disinterested.

One night. Just one night of rest, and he would gather his things and continue north to Icewind Dale. He’d trek deep into the wilderness for the next few weeks or months, alone again with nature and the memories of you. He’d spend his nights finding you in his meditations, and sometimes when he was exhausted enough, his dreams.

The thoughts alone sent a shrill up his back as he proceeded to conjure more images of you, imagining you standing right behind him, comforting him. Halsin sighed, deep, his body prickling at the visual of you running your hands up his abdomen, pressing yourself against him while you whispered alluring praises and admirations in his ears.

He could almost feel it, the ghost of your touch, an airy sensation hovering over his long body, blanketing him in love and desire. A voice tickled his ear, breathy and sweet, and he let his eyes flutter closed, bringing his other arm against the door to better support his weight. His mouth curved into a closed smile at the faint sound of his name again, from a voice he adored from the moment it graced his ears a little over twenty years ago. Your voice, a sweet tune blessed by the gods themselves.

A sensation of peace washed over him at the feel of your touch, almost swearing he could feel the pressure of it as though you were truly right behind him. His heart thumped in his ear, desire coursing through him once again. With his eyes closed, he could picture you much clearer, could feel you better. “Halsin…” He swore he could hear you whispering right along the tip of his ear. And he sighed happily, smiling wider now.

“I’m here, my heart.” His words were soft leaving his lips, falling deeper into the image of you and the surroundings he created in his mind’s eye.

“Halsin?”

This time your voice sounded much clearer, like it was a part of his realm, his space. Halsin released a deep breath, blinking rapidly a few times like he was shaking off a daze. The memory of himself leaning on the door washed away like sand being called to the ocean.

“Halsin?” you asked for a third time, tilting your head to survey his face. Halsin blinked, exhaling as his warm eyes found yours.

You smiled, running a finger teasingly down his center as you held his gaze. “I lost you for a moment… It seems like we’re both experiencing much tonight.” You stroked his cheeks tenderly, speaking so softly and he immediately weakened at your touch.

Halsin, chuckling quietly, nodded in agreement. “It would appear so.” His brief laughter waned and he shook his head, slightly frowning, surprised at how overcome with emotion he was that he let his mind drift in such a way. “I never thought I’d feel your touch again, and yet…” he trailed off, breathing deeply as took you in, his entire being teeming with pure elation. “You are here and I fear my very mind and soul can scarcely handle it.”

Your hands were solid against him, real, no longer just a spectral touch of longing memories and fantasies. And though he was larger than you by far, it was your touch that he felt so unbelievably safe in, your eyes that he trusted more than anyone. He traveled dimensions for you, and he’d do it again and again, letting no god or cosmic force get in his way.

“Then let us ground each other tonight,” you said to him. He felt your thumb swipe over his bottom lip before resting at the corner of his mouth. “I’m with you, my Halsin. Are you with me?”

Halsin leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, never breaking his gaze. “I am with you, my love. I am truly, truly with you.”

Okay, part 5 was supposed to be the final. Taking a mini trip into what Halsin went through wasn't a part of the original plan, but I had the idea come to me literally a day after posting part 4 and I couldn't shake it! Our favorite druid went through a lot! Was this part necessary? Not really, but I think it makes the reunion all the more sweeter and powerful. And lastly, I mentioned a few names in this chapter: Neverwinter, High Forest, Icewind Dale. I'm sure some are already familiar with the names, but if it helps with the visuals of where these places are, I wanted to share a link of a map this awesome person created! The places mentioned are all on the west to north-western coast of the mainland, along the Sword Coast. Baldur's Gate is far below Neverwinter, in the middle of the coast. See you soon!

#halsin x reader #halsin x you #halsin fic #halsin x tav #halsin bg3 #halsin fanfic #bg3 x you #bg3 fanfic #halsin imagine #halsin fiction #halsin x female tav #halsin x fem!reader #halsin x oc #halsin

35 notes · View notes

aritsukemo · 6 hours

Note

I don’t know if your requests are open, but I simply love your writing! May I have a Zhongli/Venti/Xiao Prompt with a reader who’s secretly a god from another world?

Finding out you're secretly a god | Genshin Impact

( @scar8o )

Summary: After your powers are revealed in a heat of the moment decision, you and your partner have a much needed conversation..

Characters: Xiao, Zhongli, and Venti

Warnings: Nothing much. Mentions of reader facing discrimination in Xiao's and slight tears towards the end of Xiao's as well.

A/N: AGHHHH this took months to finally write, but I'm glad I finally got the push I needed to finish this! I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope you enjoy this little collection of drabbles I put together! :D

A yellowish-orange shade was cast over Teyvat just like it would any other evening. Nothing had changed; the wind was still blowing, wildlife was as and as wild as ever, and the grass was still the same old greenish tinge.

Well, today, Xiao supposes that something has changed. For the first time in years, there was complete silence between you two. Being the chatterbox that you were, it was never like this since you're always rambling on about whatever popped into your head—whether that'd be how your day went, what you should do tommorow, or even the most trivial things like which colored cloth you should use to wipe off your weapons.

But that particular evening, you didn't utter a word. You simply sat there, knees to your chest as you gazed at the sun slowly setting upon the horizon. It felt odd for Xiao—awkward if he were to be so mundane. At the same time, he had no way of relieving this odd, awkward tension from the air. He had so many question stirring in his head that could at least fill the air with something of substance, and yet, he felt hesitant to voice any of them.

But he has to say something. If he doesn't, he fears that he'll never get his questions answered. So, without looking your way, he asks, "Who..are you really?"

You don't answer immediately and for a moment, Xiao thought you didn't hear him at all. Before he can repeat himself, however, he hears your voice, low and uncharacteristically sullen as you tell him, "Someone who doesn't belong here.."

He doesn't realize it, but upon hearing your response and looking over at you, his eyes softened—and just like the snow he used to munch down to prevent himself from starving to death, his golden hues glistened in the light of the setting sun. He didn't know what to say to that. Or rather, he couldn't think of anything to say that would be comforting to your ears.

That's one the things about you that he's fond of, but is also envious of. You always knew the right thing to say even when he thought you didn't. It's one of his favorite things about you..

"Look, I'm sorry for lying to you for so long.." You said before heaving a long, tired sigh. One that sounded as if you've been holding it for ages, "In my own world, people despised me and this power so much so that they tried everything they could to make my life miserable.."

"Adults, kids, girls, boys, women, and men.. Even when they were more different than the glaxies above, the one thing that was always the same was the way they looked at me.. That deep swirl of hatred in their eyes as they stared at me..like I was some kind of monster.. No matter what I did for them, it never changed," Xiao chooses to ignore the way your voice cracks midway through your sentence—the signal that the glass dam inside you was beginning to crack..

"When I got here, I saw this as my brethren relieving me of that pain..like a fresh start. I was so happy..and so, so scared. I was terrified of the past happening again so I swore to do everything in my power to keep that part of me hidden for as long as I was able.."

At this point, he could see those crystal tears rolling down your face, the translucent trail they left glimmering in the sun's glow. He's never seen them before. You never allowed him to and now, he's grateful that you never did because the sight of you crying made his chest feel heavy and empty, causing it to ache. The sight was painful. It felt wrong associating this feeling with something so..human, but it's the only thing to describe this black hole forming where his heart's supposed to be..

And in attempt to fill that feeling, he finally asks, "Do you think this power of yours will bring harm to the people of Liyue?" You finally glance at him, confusion written all over that tear-stricken face of yours. He merely looks at you with expectancy, so you eventually croak out a small, "No.."

"Do you ever think that you'll try to take over Liyue and force it's people under your thumb?" He threw another question at you, and this time, you answered quickly, blurting out an offended sounding, "Of course not! Do you think I would?"

"No," He answered immediately, "But as the protector of this land, I had to make sure we were on the same page before I said anything else," And he gets up. Your crystalized eyes follow after him, confusion beginning to swirl along with a headache—the result caused by your near-breakdown just now.

"Wha.." You begin, but your voice dies in your throat as he offers you a hand and looks you in the eyes like he would any other day—as if everything was normal.

"You said before that after all of this was over, you'd drag me off somewhere to 'wind down', didn't you? Well, I'm allowing you this once to do so without having any resistance on my end," He clarifies, and that's when it finally clicks in your mind; nothing has changed. The world is still spinning, the once clear, orange sky has turned blue and starry. Xiao is still willing to reach out to you, still willing to stare at you with adoration and love, and be around you. He still sees you as simply Y/n.

And you find yourself brought to tears all over again. Yet this time, it's due to sheer relief instead of anxiety and agony. It's because of the happiness you feel as you reach out your hand and let yourself be helped up like some damsel..

..And it's all becase of Xiao, who's kind enough to see you as something other than a monster. Something lesser than a divine god or goddess, but as simply another person of the land who he should protect.

"So when did you figure it out?" You asked to the man who sat across from you at the table—although to others it seemed as though you were talking to your tea from how your eyes were trained on it the entire time you spoke, pupils following every ripple it made with every slight of your hand.

The man across from you—who you've called many endearments over the years of knowing him—simply hummed at your question, taking the time to grab his own tea cup before answering just as casually, "Some time ago. I've had some theories of my own for a while now, but..outside assistance helped to point me in the right direction."

"So the traveler told you," You stated, your tone leaving no room for him to lie or say otherwise—a silent testament that it was futile to try and deny something you already seen as a fact, but he attempted anyways.

"Not exactly," He said, "It was a slip of the tongue on Paimon's part, a small one at that, I barely noticed it myself." And this time, you hum, closing your eyes as you at last take a sip of your tea—which has long since gotten cold since it arrived at your table.

You take a long, slow sip, as if you were buying time, or maybe, simply trying to collect all the thoughts swirling in your head and condense them in a coherent, civil sentence. Whatever it is, Zhongli allows you that time and patiently waits for you to finally set your cup down again..

"So? What do you plan to do with me now that you know?" The question comes off blunt—slightly threatening to the unintelligent ears, but it doesn't phase Zhongli. After all, he knows that you weren't threatening him, but more rather felt threatened. Similar to a cornered bunny who's only defense weapons are its fluffy, dull nubs.

"Nothing at all," He says, and at last your eyes cross the table to look him in the eyes. He does the same, granting you the same favor.

There's a moment of silence between you two in that moment. You silently demand an answer to his previous answer and the light thrumming of your fingers against the smooth, expensive wood gave away your impatience, your growing anxiety, and most importantly your fear. It's a discomforting sight to see of his usually calm lover, and so, he's quicker to respond to you in hopes of relieving your tension.

"You hold me in such high regard, dear. And while I'm flatter, may I remind you that I'm simply a consultant. I have no power to do anything other than grant you a comfortable resting place to lay your head when you pass," He closes his eyes, breaking eye contact with you to bless you with a small, polite smile, "A question like that would be more fit for the Tianquan, would it not?"

"In my humble opinion, though, I think it best if you didn't stir a pot that has already settled. Going to Lady Ningguang over something she knows nothing about is not needed, don't you agree?"

He opens his eyes again to look at you, only having the luxury to catch the tail end of your reaction to him deciding to sweep this under the rug before your expression smoothens out and a smile eases onto your face and your fingers move to lace around your cup once again..

"I suppose you're right. Forget I said anything then."

"Who knew my windblume could be even more extraordinary than I once thought?" He told you under that massive oak tree—The Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero—after sneaking away with you, who was just praised the entire evening for your heroic deeds.

"You flatter me," You said before letting out a chuckle. Venti chose not to comment on how it sounded drier than how the fruits up in Celestia look, "Really, I don't deserve such praise.."

"On the contrary! You were Mondstadt's savior today! Not to mention mines!" He said cheerily, "If it weren't for you, Mondstadt would've been robbed of this bard's melodious melodies!"

You found yourself huffing at the absurdity of his words before you can stop yourself. Making up for the slip-up with a half-hearted, agreeing hum.

"You're a fool.. Having a dangerous being such as myself leisurely lay on you like this.." You whisper into his thigh as you turn on your side, your voice muffling due to half of your face being smothered by the puff of his shorts. Your comment was heard nonetheless and earned a chuckle from the bard.

"Love makes one do foolish things," He simply replies, before you feel something cold and smooth against your cheek. Your eyes flutter open and out of the corner of your eyes you see the familar red hue that you would only see plastered on one of the delicious treats the Cuihua Trees so graciously gift Teyvat.

You take the apple from his grasp, once again laying flat on your back as you hold the apple above you as if to tantalize yourself.

"I'm serious. You shouldn't be this nice to me anymore, Barbatos," Another slip of the tongue—one promptly ignored and immediately pushed to back of both of your minds, "I'm nothing but a weapon of destruction."

"That you may have been in the past, but as of now, you're simply a bartender at Angel's Share who's fallen head over heels for a skillful bard; me," He replies after swallowing the chewed, sweet chunks in his mouth that came from his apple—which has already been half-eaten at this point.

And you find yourself huffing again. This time at the realization that he was right—at least the part about being hopelessly in love with him anyways..

"You had a long day, so why not you rest after you eat? I'll strum you a gentle tune that carry you away to pleasant dreams, ehehe~!" He suddenly suggest—an obvious attempt at deading the conversation where it stands before you say something too depressing to brush off easily. You pretend to not notice, deciding to accept your defeat for now, as you nod, finally bringing the apple down to your lips and taking a bite, being careful to chew the bite thoroughly before swallowing..

"That sounds nice.. Maybe resting my eyes wouldn't be so bad."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

28 notes · View notes

doktorfreud · 2 days

Text

That Devastating Shard of Light

(IWTV S2 E8)

Just by setting your eyes on the gorgeous photography, the meaningfulness of this scene strikes you even before a word is uttered: Louis and Armand are separated by a shard of light.

The room is obliquely cut in half, that slice of illuminated floor is quite literally lava. And that’s not just a turn of phrase: they are separated by a line that cannot be crossed, a line drawn by the sun itself – their mortal enemy, which drives home the notion of just how much their relationship is irreversibly fractured. You can’t patch up that shard of light, no matter how hard you try (more on this in my next post) – especially if it uncovers and echoes the deed which caused the rift in the first place: flooding your lover’s daughter with a windowful of sunlight, leading to her annihilation. As Armand’s treacherous act put an end to Claudia’s life, so did it put an end to his (genuine) relationship with Louis.

The dust particles dancing in the beam of light hail back to the moment Claudia dissolved into ashes on a theatre stage, hobbled, alone, deprived of her father Louis’ presence, clutching in her arms the only person, Madeleine, who had always put her before everyone and everything else. And Louis is aware of this, and will have to live with this knowledge and the ensuing feelings of guilt for the rest of his immortal days.

That shard of light takes on an almost physical, solid nature, piercing through Louis’ heart, turning the hopes, dreams and future of two women who had finally found each other to dust, tearing Armand and Louis’ relationship to shreds.

---

Next time, I will go into the infamous “beigest pillow” scene from s2e5, and look at how both light and Claudia’s memory play a crucial part in the ruthless escalation between Loumand.

Thanks for reading!

#iwtv #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #Claudia's birthday #claudia de pointe du lac #heavy metal #claudia de lioncourt #loumand #louis de pointe du lac #armand #my commentary #that devastating shard of light #symbolism #tv show addict #media critique #meta analysis #in depth

48 notes · View notes

yanverse · 2 days

Text

Good Morning - Morgan Lane

plot: morgan doesn't want you to go to work <3

(cws: gn! darling, lazy sex, anal, unprotected, fingering, dirty talk, begging, quickie, lil jealousy factor, slight size difference, established relationship)

word count: 2.1k

It was the sun rays peeking through the curtains that had first woken you up, but the rumbling of Morgan's light snores against your back was the second. He had passed out on top of you, holding you like a teddy bear in his sleep, and although he was soft it didn't mean he wasn't strong enough to keep you there. Morgan had always been a big guy, and without some decent leverage or just a convincing argument for him to let you up, you'd watch the minutes on the alarm clock pass by on his bedside until you were late.

“Gotta go to work, baby.” You tried to wiggle out from under him, but Morgan's hefty frame kept you pinned, as did his thick arms around your waist. He whined and mumbled something incoherent into your hair, though it was clear enough that he wasn't intent on letting you leave the bed. “Morgan, c'mon. Can't be late again.”

“Yes you can.” He huffed softly into your ear as he shifted around, finally pulling his head up to reach it so you could hear his sweet, hoarse voice, and feel his chapped lips press kisses to your jaw. You both were a bit raspy from the night before, but from the way your boyfriend had exerted himself he was a lot worse off than you were. Your scalp was sore, your back ached, but aside from that and a smattering of bruises all across your body you at least had some energy to spare. Morgan might as well have been dead weight on top of you–well, except for one not-so-small part that was a bit more excited.

“Morgan.” You warned with a stern tone. He rubbed lazy circles into your hip, the spot where your underwear didn't quite reach and it was just bare, smooth skin.

“‘m not doing anything.” He shifted his hips, but the distinct stiffness digging into your thigh didn't let up. It only moved to align more with your cheeks as he ground it gently against you.

“Yes you are.”

“No ‘m not.”

“Yes you are, Morgan Lane.”

“Can't help it.” Morgan finally moaned, his breath a flutter of air as his hips stuttered. As much as you used it to be firm with him, you knew good and well how much he liked it when you pulled out the “government name” as he called it. Probably just because he really liked bugging you. “Feels so nice…I bet you look so pretty.”

“I need to go to work.”

“Work can go to hell,” He panted, moving up all of a sudden to sit up on his knees. “I'm sick of missing time with you.” The calluses on his huge, warm hands rubbed against your skin as he lifted your shirt up, and squeezed soft handfuls of your ass in his palms as he started playing with it. Your butt had such a hold on him that it drove you crazy, you'd rarely seen such an ass man in your life–although maybe that was in part because he had to feel it to see it, or maybe just because your boyfriend was a deplorable freak in bed.

“Morgan-”

“Pleeeease,” He begged selfishly. “Please, baby, I'll be so good if you give it to me. Promise! I want you so bad…I can't survive the day without a part of you with me..” He put on that false, whiney tone while his whimpers hit your ears like a weak spot and the low, soft rasp of his voice sent tingles down your spine. Morgan knew exactly what he was doing as he groped you, there was no playing innocent with him.

You felt him tug on the waist of your underwear–not enough to yank it down, just to plead silently with you for permission–and just like you always ended up doing, you let out a sigh and a “be quick, then” and he grinned into a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Ultra-speed service, I promise.” He chuckled, tugging the fabric down to your knees.

“That's not something to brag about.” You rolled your eyes, but Morgan had his tongue on your thigh in seconds and you just sort of forgot about it. He liked the tease of inching up closer and closer to your sex, sometimes he'd start at your knees or he'd even kiss his way up from your calves if he had the time. This morning it was quick though, and he spread your cheeks apart with little ceremony as he sucked his two fingers into his mouth. Slowly, he eased the tips of them against your tight rim, but chuckled hoarsely when he felt them wiggle in with more immediate acceptance than he anticipated.

“You like it, huh?”

“Don't start.” You warned, but your tone was undeniably cheeky. You could only hide your small, prideful smile by burying your face in his pillow.

Morgan inched his fingers deeper, taking time not to strain you but keeping a steady pace to make sure he didn't make you too late. You'd already be limping into work anyways with how hard his cock was as it stirred in his boxers.

“Always knew you were fuckin’ dirty.” He murmured under his breath, and when he took that tone with you your legs buckled and started shaking with the intensity of your moans. Morgan liked talking dirty but he always had some anxiety that you didn't, so it was rare that he'd let it go completely and just say whatever came to mind. But he had no idea just how hot it was and how good he was at it, especially with his voice all low and raspy from a night of sleep. God knows how you did any work around him when he was sick. “You like it back here, huh? You like getting your ass played with?”

“Morgan-” You cried out, but only finished with a squeal as he brought his palm down on your behind. He could leave welts if he really tried, but usually some swelling and a bit of soreness was the norm. If you were good, that was.

“Want your coworkers to find out you like this?” He muttered as he straddled himself over you, your thighs pinned to the bed as you listened to the shlick of him freeing his cock and stroking it into readiness. He spit into his palm to work some slickness into it, but obviously realized that wasn't enough as you caught his hand in your peripheral reaching to the nightstand to crack open your bottle of lube. A bit of patting around led him right to it. “Bet they'd think you're a whore. Wouldn't they?” You listened to the squirt of fluid splashing into his hand. With your nails digging into the sheets and gripping them shakily, you nodded into the pillow.

“Good.” He huffed, guiding his sticky, slick tip between your cheeks to nestle in against that tight, rough spot. “Then they'll know I fuck you too good to take you away from me.”

“Morgan–nngh-!” A squeal erupted from your lips, not quite caught by your hands as you clapped them over your mouth, as the bed suddenly dipped and pressure spread you open in an instant. Morgan gasped himself as he slid in too quickly and paused with just the tip inside, his hands planted on either side of your head to grip the sheets in earnest.

“Oh my god, oh my…fffuuck sorry, shit, didn’ mean to–” Your walls pulsed around him and he froze, but his lungs seized to push out an airy moan that was so high you weren't sure he could ever copy it. “Ooohh, honey, are you looking at me? No, right?” He gasped out like he'd just been holding his breath. His hand slid over to thread through your hair, and he felt you shake your head with your face in the pillows. “Mmnh…okay, I got a good picture in my head. Jesus-” Morgan thrusted forwards, burying himself entirely in that impossibly tight space, and his grip on your hair jolted pain through you as he yanked it back. “-fucking christ! Shh-hit-”

It wasn't abnormal for Morgan to get a little lost in the thick of it when he was getting off, but things only grew more intense the longer you spent together. Somehow the honeymoon phase wasn't just a phase, but more like a transitional period; with every mundane effort Morgan got more sensitive to you, he liked you more, he was satisfied easier. You weren't sure what it was about him or you or both of you as a couple, but it seemed like every time you came together your boyfriend grew more attached to you. In fact, it felt like he nearly wanted to be a part of you–especially once he hit a good rhythm, and bucked his hips down with the aim of getting as deep into you as he could possibly manage.

“Feel it in your belly? Yeah?” He moaned from behind, lips flush to the back of your neck. “Ohhh, fuck, fuck–”

“M-Morgan-!” You spluttered out, having finally found your voice. You hissed at him to quiet down, to not wake up your neighbours so early in the morning, but he only bit down on your shoulder and his cries still thrummed muffledly throughout the apartment. You'd just have to accept your fate at this point. Morgan snaked a hand around your waist and pressed his huge, warm palm to your belly. The sensation of him sheathed inside you, whether imagined or really felt, had his hips pinned to your backside as he barely pulled back out to thrust. Every shlick, shluck, shluck vibrated through your body as he let your sweet walls suck him in closer.

His fingertips grazed your scalp to remind you he was there, to ensure his grip on you wasn't forgotten as he rutted against you with moans wasted against your skin. I love you, I love you, I love you. Those words would be his if his teeth weren't sunk into your flesh as he grunted them, humping feverishly to claim that end he wanted so badly. Morgan pitched you forward further into the blankets, weight pinning you completely under him; and with your nails dug into the crisp sheets you'd just washed this week, you felt a cord inside you snap with need that awashed you, suddenly, with an all-encompassing sense of bliss to block out the ache of Morgan's depth. He shuddered, stilled, and your woeful spasming rendered him utterly speechless–he stiffened and blew out each burst of love he'd kept locked up, and only as he did so did he finally melt into your sweat-soaked back like his bones had turned to jelly. His teeth finally unlatched as he shivered out a deep sigh, a kiss placed to your broken skin before he laid his cheek to your spine and puffed out each low, laborious breath in time with your heartbeat.

As the peace slowly returned, your high coming down with relative ease, you shifted slightly only to feel a dribble of hot, sticky warmth pulse downwards. Like glue, it stuck the two of you together, but you nudged at Morgan to move himself apart so you could clean up from the aftermath. For once, he agreed without complaint and slid off of your tired body to roll over on his back beside you. The expression on his face could be described as nothing less than complete, serene bliss as he caught his breath, one of those huge hands perched on his chest.

“See?” He panted, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. “Super…fast.”

“You made a mess,” You hushed dryly, slipping out of his loose grip on your thigh to head into his bathroom. You wobbled, caught yourself on the nightstand, and although he called out in worry if you were okay, you certainly were. A bit of stumbling was nothing new when Morgan and the bedroom were involved. “I'm taking a shower.”

“Me too?” His face lit up, he heaved himself up on one elbow to face the bathroom door, and before you could stop him with an absolutely not, you mongrel he was already feeling his way along the wall to slip inside. Joining you would almost certainly lead to something even messier, but…it was Morgan. That boyish charm, messy curls, bright, freckled smile as he patted your face and lifted it up to kiss it–the soft rasp of his voice as he let you know how good you were, how nice you felt, how beautiful he knew you were, the hand on your lower back as he steadied you and nudged the dial to spray a hail of fresh, warm water to soothe your aches…and how could you ever, ever say no to that?

#morgan lane #morgan lane x reader #morgan x reader #yanverse #spicy writing #yandere ocs #ellie writes #2k

36 notes · View notes