#Dew is a bastard

[warsawwz]

He was beaten up, but whyyyy

A couple of versions with a different background under the cut because I didn't choose which one is better

Sometimes I come back from the dead 😮‍💨

[forlorn-crows]

crow just tell me, tell me that mountain is not the somno enthusiast ever. that's right you can't!!! cause he is and I'll absolutely die on this hill

his big dick may be desperately rattling the bars of it's enclosure and losing when mount's awake but when big boy's asleep it takes over!!! he's soooo reactive but also a dead sleeper and oh how he loves waking up with sticky pants, just that delicious little sprinkle of humiliation in it all

I dunno imo he just is the somno boy, don't ya think?

mountain absolutely has a humiliation kink. plus, king of cumming in his pants, cumming untouched, and wet dreams? makes him the perfect target for some somno fun. not sure if anyone remembers "stuff that grows from mountains head", but that little ficlet of dew whispering sweet nothings just to watch the snapdragons grow, hinted that he likes to get a little filthy sometimes too . . .

dew influencing mountain's wet dream w/a side of somno handjobs under the cut, feat. mentions of how hot cumulus is

happy birthday, tee hee ♡

Dew loves watching him like this. Expressive and unabashed in his sleep, unaware of anything except the fantasies playing out in his mind. His dick taking over his self control and bending him to the will of pleasure. 

Plus he’s cute and fun to mess with. Can’t blame a ghoul for wanting to play a little. 

“What’s goin’ on in there big guy? Hm?” Dew cards his hand through Mountain’s hair. He’s fallen asleep with his head in Dew’s lap, pleasantly warm and lulled by the soft rock record Dew had put on. Middle of their conversation too, the goof, but the fire ghoul won’t hold him to it.

Mountain’s only response is a small, high-pitched noise, paired with a twitch of his fingers. His cock twitches too, already tenting in his linen pants. Dew wants nothing more than to yank them down and expose that beautiful length, watch it sway and bob as he gets harder and harder. 

Later, though; he wants to have a little fun first.

“Let me guess . . . Rain?” The fire ghoul waits for a response, but isn’t granted anything that signals his guess was correct.

“No? Hm. Swiss?” Still nothing. It’s a quick round of Guess Who? before he reaches his answer: “Lus?”

Mountain’s mouth drops open in a soft sigh, cock twitching again. There’s a little wet spot on the front of his pants now, and his ears twitch as Dew laughs knowingly. 

“She’s got you wrapped around her curls, doesn’t she, Mount?” Dew sighs with a smile, petting at the freshly-sprouting justicia blooms around the base of one horn. Pretty fuchsia petals the same color as her favorite lipstick.

“Lucifer, she’s so gorgeous, huh? Wonder what you’re dreaming about . . . maybe she’s got you worshiping her tits, suckin’ on ‘em just how she likes . . .”

The earth ghoul lets out a throaty moan, top lip twitching to show a flash of teeth and tongue. Dew hums and traces along his mouth with his thumb. Back and forth, back and forth; sliding the pad of it along the tip of his tongue with each pass. Mountain’s mouth twitches again, and Dew is eager to slip his thumb inside. Watching as his lips close around the digit automatically, as they have so many times before, and he starts to suck. It’s ever so gentle, and a little bit sloppy, but it still makes Dew go all fuzzy inside. 

“Yeah, bet it’s just like that,” he continues. “Sucking on her nipples until she gets all wet. Bet she calls you a good boy while you do it.”

Mountain huffs a moan around his finger. His leg kicks out, momentum rolling him fully onto his back, limbs sprawling out every which way as the true amount of his arousal is exposed to Dew: his cock is absolutely pressed to the seam of his pants, leaking into the fabric enough to rival a water ghoul. 

“Fuck you’re as wet as she’d be, aren’t you,” the fire ghoul breathes. Mountain’s head lolls to the side, and his thumb slips out of his mouth, a line of drool following his fingernail. “Drooling all over her while she gets on your lap. Probably wouldn’t even have to take you to get you to bust, she could just rub her cunt all over you and you’d be creaming yourself, wouldn’t you?”

“Huh–uhh,” Mountain groans, all raspy on his exhale. Dew can see his eyes roll behind his eyelids, no doubt picturing the scene to a T. He makes a noise of agreement and smooths his hands down Mountain’s chest, gripping in a way Cumulus might, making sure to press the tips of his claws right in above his nipples. Imitating a pretty manicure pressed into his pecs. 

“So pretty when she grabs you. Pushing her tits together with her elbows and her hair floats around her like a goddess. Callin’ you honey and love and baby.”

The earth ghoul bucks up into nothing, hands slowly fisting into the sheets beneath him. Whimpering when Dew digs his hands in just a little more.

“Bet your balls get so big when she bounces on that cock.” Dew’s own voice is getting a little husky now, dick chubbing up in interest under Mountain’s head. “Fuck, and she feels so good. So warm and wet and you just wanna grab her hips and never let go . . .”

“Wan’ . . . oh,” Mountain mutters, voice pitching up at the end into something breathy and feminine and Satanas does Dew want to hear him make it again. 

“Oh yeah? You make pretty noises like that for her?” He slowly slides out from underneath Mountain’s head, laying it down gently onto the mattress before shuffling closer to his lower half. Dew glances up the length of him, taking in the rucked-up shirt, the hands kneading at the blankets, chest rising and falling a little faster now. Breath coming out in short puffs from his slack mouth, every other one accented with a sweet, quiet noise—almost like a dog yipping in its dreams. His hips follow his dick as it twitches upwards, thrusting into some imaginary curvy body. 

“There you go, make sure you fuck her real good,” the fire ghoul teases, already pressing at that wet spot on the front of his pants. Groaning when he feels how hot he’s gotten there. 

He’s fitting to burst at any moment, really. And Dew would very much like to see that. 

“Wonder if she’s seen you like this,” he continues, tugging on the waistband. “All hot and bothered and you don’t even know it. Does she know how cute you get when you wake up all sticky?”

Dew gets his pants down just far enough to free his length, cursing when it throbs just from the exposure. “Fuck, those pretty nails wrapped around this big dick . . . fucking hells, Mount.”

Whatever hands-off objective he had before disintegrates when Mountain full-body groans and his cock spurts out another bead of pre—Dew can’t resist that, he just can’t. He wraps his hand around him and strokes him root to tip, biting back his own noise when Mountain visibly shudders. 

“Ffuhh . . . mm li’ . . . tha’, gon’ . . . “ He’s babbling syllables again, getting louder the longer Dew jerks him off. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum for her?” he goads, watching his face contort in flashes of pleasure. Feeling his cock get even fuller in his hand. “Shit, fill her up so good it’ll all drip out of her when she sits on your face and you get to suck on her perfect little—”

With a low groan, he’s squirting onto his belly in bursts of white, toes curling and his eyes rolling all the way back into his skull. 

“Oh, baby,” Dew groans, his own cock throbbing between his legs. He just keeps going, wringing out shot after shot until it’s dribbling down his knuckles, the earth ghoul unconsciously mewling as he starts to reach overstimulation. More drool running out of the corner of his mouth as his head is tossed to the side.

“Fuck, Mount,” Dew mutters. He lets his cock flop back down against his stomach, licking the cum from his fingers as he watches the bigger ghoul sigh shakily and melt back into the sheets. Boneless and limp like nothing ever happened.

But Dew’s certainly not done with him yet. 

“Wakey-wakey,” he lilts, pulling Mountain’s pants further down his legs so he can situate himself between them. Smoothing his hands up his thighs to grab at his hips while simultaneously licking a hot stripe from balls to tip, sending a quick zing of heat through his palms to rouse him from slumber. 

Mountain half snuffles, half snorts himself awake, blinking up at the ceiling like he can’t quite remember how he got there. “Wha . . .” He cranes his neck up to glance down at Dew, happily licking up the cum from the hair around the base of his cock with a gaze full of mischief. The earth ghoul nearly chokes as his brain catches up to his body, eyes going wide as he presses up onto his elbows. “Satanas, Dew, unholy fuck.”

“What’d you dream about, big boy?” he teases, suckling briefly on the head of his softening cock. 

“H-oh shit—”

“Yeah?” He kisses back down the shaft, grinning at the heat rising to Mountain’s face with every whimper. “Wanna have some more fun?"

please consider reblogging ♡

[owlghuleh]

Phantoms guitar slide and Dews casual dance has me weak at the knees

Ghost brainrot is too real

[shinkai-kaiju]

please experience gamer having and Opinion

[jerseydeanne]

Kitty Links: Wildfires as a weapon

I thought you might like to post this . We were talking about this earlier .

Maybe this would explain the unprecedented wildfires in the US and Europe . 

Not so much Climate Change , but changing the climate.  There is a difference. 

There is a PDF to download directly under the video which details the American government and military  plans for the weaponisation of forest fires .. 

Researching DARPA and D.E.W is also a good place to start . 

Love always . Kitty ❤❤❤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤

I missed your birthday ! Happy Birthday !

This is your song and a reminder of why you are here and keep on doing what you are doing !  ❤💋💋

Kitty and I have to chat in secret since I watched my google email disappearing before my eyes with another anon.

No matter what, you are loved whether you want to kick us, call us names, or laugh at us. We love humanity! 💖

Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

God only gives as much as we can handle. My breaking point came last week, and he answered my prayers. I'm so grateful and filled with the spirit of the lord.

I'm asking all homesteaders out there to give 10% of their crop away to local food banks. We are entering a scary time, and starvation isn't the way to go.

Matthew 14:16

In each of them human generosity and faith is part of the miracle: Jesus takes what's offered to satisfy the needs of the hungry and multiplies it. God's intent is for hungry people to be fed, and he calls his people to participate in providing the food.

[lunaria--annua]

The first thing I'll do when I get to have the time to draw again is redo the reference sheets...

(with potentially slight design changes)

[aestheticpearl]

— ‘you’ve got to press it on you.’

characters. dewdrop, rain, swiss, mountain, phantom

themes. SMUT

[warnings] smut, blood, biting, dacryphilia, size kink, corruption kink, light choking, mirror sex, spanking

[gender neutral reader]

ghoulettes

a/n: they’re ghouls, read at your own risk

➳ dewdrop

he def fucks with a PASSION

very accommodating

if you want to go slow, he’ll go slow

if you want it rough, he’ll be rough

he can be whatever you’d like, praise or degradation

‘oh yeah, that’s it baby— fuck you really know how to move, where’d you learn that hm? you fucking the other ghouls?’

POWER BOTTOM

i said what i said

dew loves to watch you ride him

and he loves to hold your hips to guide your movements

it’s definitely his favorite position

he doesn’t mind topping tho

this ghoul will mark you up until your neck is painted in your own blood

he’ll lick it up cause he love how sweet you taste

“such a pretty thing covered in your own blood and my cum, fuck you turn me on.”

you lay breathlessly on top of the ghoul as he pets your head. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, your mind fuzzy and fucked out.

“few more rounds yeah?” dewdrop states moving so he’s now on top of you.

he slips himself back inside you with little effort, using his own cum that’s on you as a lubricant.

you groan into your pillow at the stretch of him. no matter how many times you do it, it still burns in the best way possible.

“that’s it, you’re so good at taking my dick.” he says before leaning over to bite your shoulder.

➳ rain

he doesn’t fuck

he makes love

and he’s so good at it

gives the BEST head

he would stay between your legs for hours if you’d let him

shower sex

y’all are always fuckin in the shower or in some kind of water

oddly enough he’s not a fan of bath sex

the water splashes on the floor and you almost slipped because of it one time

shamelessly loud moans

he breathes heavily after he cums that’s so hot holy fuck

he’ll definitely thank you while cumming

‘thankyouthankyouthankyou— hgnnn i love you so much’

loves to make out with you while he’s inside you

he’s def cried after sex cause it felt so good but don’t tell anyone that

your lips are starting to go numb because of the heavy make out session between the both of you. it almost distracts you from the slow but skilled rolling of his hips into yours. almost.

“you feel so good around me, satan i love you so much.” rain says before moving back into the kiss and pinning you more up against the shower wall.

the water pours down both of your bodies and something about it just absolutely does it for rain.

“you look so amazing like this, soaking wet while i drill my cock into you.” he moans.

➳ swiss

kinky bastard

degradation king

but like his aftercare is amazing so it’s fine

corruption kink

fav position is doggy

loves shoving your face into a pillow while he plows you from behind

also likes to lean down and yank you up so he can hold your neck

has marked you everywhere

needs to let everyone know you’re his

‘you’re mine, don’t forget that’

almost bit a major artery in your leg

ALMOST

there was a lot of blood but it’s okay cause you didn’t die and it only turned him on more

he will try any angle that feels good

he MAKES you flexible

this bitch definitely growls

LOVES to make you watch how he disappears inside you

def has a mirror next to his bed

“look at how good i fuck you.” swiss grips your face and makes you turn to look at yourself in the mirror next to him bed. “look at how well your slutty hole takes me ahh fucking whore for my cock.”

you let out a pathetic whimper that makes swiss chuckle as he pushes your head back into the mattress.

“keep your eyes on me.” he whispers in your ear as he holds the back of your neck. he plants a swift smack on your ass before rubbing his hand over it gently to soothe the sting.

“good play thing.”

➳ mountain

he knows his size

he also knows how to use it

OH LORD

he is so gentle tho

a little scared he’ll hurt you

he also can’t degrade you

he tried and HE ended up crying

loves how he towers over your body

can and will man handle you which means he will fuck you everywhere he can

the wall, the bathroom, the practice room

everywhere

loves the thrill of getting caught

‘shhh baby you don’t want us to get caught do you?’

he loves when you’re vocal, since he kinda just grunts and groans

mountain lifts your leg gently for better access and you can’t help but moan loudly before his hand covers your mouth and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“so loud, i’m starting to think you want someone to catch us pretty thing.”

your eyes squeeze shut as your body is hit with another wave of pleasure as you feel mountain’s free hand take yours to guide it down your chest and stop at your abdomen before pressing down.

“i’m right here, you feel that?”

➳ phantom

i love phantom i do but he’s younger and doesn’t have as much as experience as the other ghouls

that being said

he focuses a little too much on himself but

HE WHIMPERS

‘ah fuck’

he loves holding you close to him while thrusting into you

doesn’t pull out all the way, he kind of just jerks into you really fast

lil jackhammer

he learns how to make you feel good from your guidance

likes when you communicate how you feel during sex

he likes seeing you cry but only because it feels good

he doesn’t like hurting you

bites you but not hard enough to draw blood

he likes praising you

very possessive

phantom places gentle kisses over the fresh indent of his teeth on your neck while holding onto you for dear life.

“such a good little thing for me nghh so tight, all mine.”

you’ll admit he was going a little too fast for it to feel good on you end, that was until you adjusted your hips and he started hitting a certain spot that had your legs shaking.

phantom takes notice of this almost immediately.

“i hit your sweet spot didn’t i?”

“p-phantom i need to you slow down and keep that angle.” your eyes are practically rolling back into your head at this point as he listens to your instructions.

“fuck you’re squeezing me so tight.”

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

feral i’ve gone feral you guys

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[twi-liight]

Sooo. You just posted Petty Jealousy 20 mins ago and I just wanted to say that I loveeee itttt. Can we please have more? Like Astarion and the other companions subtly do somethings to the person they’re jealous of to turn them away from Tav.

Tav’s companions are just sooo cutee when they’re jealous. Wyll and perhaps, Halsin being the only sensible ones.

Thank you!

Red With Envy ❣

The YA love heptagon of the century: Tavrem. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Companions/Tav. It's Gale/Astarion if you squint. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you! ❥ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Astarion would never beseech himself to touch a member of the working class, but things change. People change. And here he is draping an arm around Gale’s shoulders to boldly declare his presence upon the rickety, wooden table. 

“Oh.” Blink blink. Gale gawks with round eyes, then not-so-discreetly glances away from Astarion’s heavy gaze to the only present company at the table: salted bread with thick slices of white cheese, anchovies, and sop for the bread. This sorry excuse of a presentation must be breakfast, which begs the question- Is Gale’s blood so blue that he cannot skip a meal or is he trying to make a favorable impression? 

Astarion would much prefer the former. It means he does not need to scrub his hands raw from the filth of peasants after this interaction.

“Uh, good morning, Astarion.” 

“Mm?” He flashes his fangs to grin. “A good morning indeed, my friend. How lovely the dawn breaks over the horizon, but with no one to share the scenery with! I pitied you, and out of the kindness of my heart, opted to join you.” 

Alright, enough touching. Astarion draws his arm back to poise a curled hand beneath his chin, glancing over Gale’s face in a vain attempt to study him. “Well-combed hair. Your posture,” he raises his hand to gesture at the wizard, “is much cleaner than yesterday. You’re practically glowing with morning dew, and…”

Here, he leans forward, just enough so that his nose lingers on the curve of Gale’s neck, just so his hot breath hits his skin as he murmurs, “You smell like Tav.” 

This greedy bastard slept in their tent last night because he caught some sickness from meandering about gaseous spores, and Tav cannot ignore the needy. Would that Gale be some beggar on the road and not an accomplished wizard with a higher emotional maturity than he.  

Astarion would be more comforted if he was a one night stand, a quick romp for the leader of their party to take the edge off. But anything beyond that is sabotage for his best-laid plans. 

Astarion’s smirk curls as deep, roiling darkness tug at his mind. He leans back slowly, never breaking eye contact. “They let you sleep in their tent. What a darling.” While they slept by the fire, ash and dirt swirling in their hair, Gale was embraced in Tav’s blankets and scarves. The lingering scent of something floral sticks on his skin, and Astarion recognizes it as the oleander Shadowheart presented Tav a fortnight ago. 

Gale smells something else: rusty and metallic, like the smell of a storm brewing. Has Astarion’s eyes deepened in color, like wine? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. “Yes,” he agrees, thinking of Tav for some semblance of comfort. “I was sick, and they offered their tent for the night. More blankets, they said. Easier to be warm in - look, Astarion, do you have a problem with my friendship with Tav?” 

The laugh that pushes its way forcibly out of his sneering lips is sharp and mocking. Something burns in his chest, and it feels like seething anger. “My, that’s a strong word. I would say acquaintance is more befitting of your,” Astarion gestures to Gale once more, fighting back a scowl, “station. You’ve known Tav for barely a few months - they’re not quick to brand just anyone as a friend.” 

“Is that right?” Gale’s brown eyes spark with challenge. What a doll. Finally got his spine. “I ought to wonder how you befriended them, then. Anyone with half a mind knows your shenanigans are acts of desperation; you want them to like you so you can manipulate them. I know your type, Astarion.” 

“And you… You, what, you are not? You’re using Tav just as much as I am, darling. Otherwise, what are you here for? Companionship? Ha!” Astarion does not know why, but his entire being is alight. As if the sun’s rays are scorching him. He can barely contain his temper, barking out between sharp teeth, “Get a grip.” 

Gale is hardly fazed. “You’re delusional. Whatever threat you think I present to you?” He lifts his chin, eyes alight with power and rage. “Confront it. Dig your grave. Lie in it. While you’re busy lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to dance them around your little games, guess where I will be?” 

Silent, seething anger. It burns. Astarion’s eyes are blown wide with rage as he gazes into Gale’s eyes, digging his nails into his palm as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his dagger. 

“There to catch them when they realize everything you’ve done is just an act.” Gale leans forward this time, a warning blazing in his brown eyes. “Think whatever you wish of me, Astarion, but never in your life think I would never fight for those I cherish.” 

Cherish. Astarion almost sinks his teeth in his throat to shut him up. “Good,” he purrs, fighting every urge not to massacre Gale where he sits with his dingy little breakfast. “I would be sorely disappointed if you succumbed too easily to me.” 

This would be so much easier if Astarion didn’t care about losing Gale, either. If he must concede, Astarion can admit to himself and the Devil alone that Gale is beyond useful in battle. Herald of the Weave, Mystra’s little boytoy? He would be endeared to watch Gale’s story end. Whether it be in smithereens or in the bosom of his former goddess, it will be fun to watch. 

Something in the back of his mind gnaws at his anxiety that Gale will be the one to turn Tav against him. This pretty little fool never wanted him in the party, wary of him, which is the smart thing to do. Tav was not. Tav was too easy to trust him. To easy to ply around his fingers until he had them even offer up their blood. 

He resents Gale for making space in their heart. It could have been his. 

“The dawn rises as I do: strong, and watching over two bread boys exchanging heated words like knives.” Lae’zel’s voice, sleek and smooth, startles them. Gale visibly jolts away from his proximity to Astarion’s face, brown eyes widening as Lae’zel approaches the table. She takes one gander at the spread, grabs a fistful of anchovies, and shoves it down her mouth without care. 

“You,” Gale stammers. “That was for–” 

“Silence. Githyanki must feed well to prepare for the new day. I will not hear your incoherent mumbling, wizard.” Lae’zel at least has the decency to chew with her mouth closed. She gulps the food, grips her fingers around Gale’s mug of watered down wine, and downs it with a tilt of her head. 

Astarion pouts. “We were having a moment, dearest Lae’zel. Now, I love to tease Gale as much as you, but it is my turn to press on Gale’s pretty little nerves until he explodes. He does not need to be,” he flares a hand out to Lae’zel, who is still downing the disgusting concoction with impressive concentration, “hounded.”

Gale looks confused. Astarion thinks that is not a state he often experiences. “Thank you?” 

And now he’s grateful? Astarion regrets his string of words in the last five seconds. They should go back to fighting.

Lae’zel slams the mug down on the table, perishing the rest of Astarion’s train of thought. She wipes the drink from her lips with her arm, thinks for a second, then nods, resilience plain in her expression. “I must warn you: distractions outside of our goal will be our end. I will not fail to cut either of you down if you produce disappointing results. However.”

There’s a ‘however’? Gale and Astarion exchange a glance, the animosity between them gone, replaced with more confusion. “I think you may be misunderstanding,” Gale begins. “Astarion and I-” 

“You two are lovers,” Lae’zel says with the confidence of a thousand burning suns. Astarion has never wished for that to be more true. He wants to be eviscerated where he sits right now because he cannot pick up his jaw from the ground. 

Gale looks like he just swallowed a rat. Like he is seconds away from throwing up. He needs a moment, experiencing vicious whiplash from wanting to kill Astarion to now, wanting to kill Lae’zel. “You— huh.”

“I support this companionship,” nods the githyanki sagely. 

“You are a bloody fool.” 

“No. I am efficient. Two of my enemies have been wiped off the playing field, which means there is less competition.” Hands on her hips, Lae’zel looks at the campgrounds proudly. “Make love to each other loudly.” She jerks her head over her shoulder, a sneer twisting her sharp features as she looks at them. “Try to drown out my name from Tav’s lips tonight, for I will be taking their hand and heart.” 

No fucking way. An oversight on his part. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tav is desired, not just by him or Gale, but by everyone else in the damn camp! This is much more troublesome than he realized. Fine, then. He should prioritize the rational thinkers like Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart and– oh, Karlach. Not darling Karlach. She would never turn Tav against him, would he? 

Fine. Halsin and Lae’zel can go first. 

“Momentary truce?” Gale offers. 

“You read my mind, handsome. Lae’zel, darling! Come back over here - we just want to talk.” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Darling, Mind if I Enjoy Myself?

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader || ao3 || Masterlist Rating: E Word Count: 2.8k Summary: Astarion walks in on you pleasuring yourself and takes it upon himself to be of utmost assistance to your endeavours. CW: 18+. Smut with fluff. Teasing. Masturbation. Vaginal fingering. Vaginal sex.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I, darling?”

As a matter of fact—he was, and Astarion knew that very well. He also knew that your pathetic little gasp wasn’t a sign of chased-after relief but surprise. So much surprise, in fact, that your hand had startled into a highly frustrating stillness between your legs; you’d been so close…

All thanks to Astarion’s masterfully quiet feet, you hadn’t heard him re-enter the chamber and his untimely intrusion had your body torn between wanting to freeze and jump out of your skin—and that, too, the bastard knew. The unveiled amusement dripping from his words clearly gave him away.

Embarrassed at the heat rising in your cheeks, you squeezed your eyes shut, at once thankful that you wouldn’t have to see the stupid smirk on his face as he sauntered over to your bed.

“Had you waited half an hour for me to finish my bath, I would’ve been more than happy to assist in your delightful endeavours, my sweet.”

Another matter of fact was that Astarion’s bathing routine did not take half an hour. You hadn’t at all expected to see him again until just before dawn.

Suppressing a scoff, you licked the overripe curse from your lips before replacing it with a lazy smile. You had to play this smart, otherwise Astarion would never let you live this down.

“Enjoying yourself, Astarion?” You purred, slowly opening your eyes in what you hoped was a casual if not playful manner.

His pale face was now close enough for you to touch. He crouched next to the bed, head supported on one hand while he grinned at you. 

“Darling, with you? Always!” 

Astarion’s hair was still wet, you noticed. Wayward drops of water glistered in the pale moonlight, making him look as if he’d been kissed by morning dew. A single water drop caught your attention by running from his temple down his cheekbone before it gathered in the valley of his sensuous cupid’s bow. All you had to do was lean forward and kiss it away, but—

You followed Astarion’s sharp gaze to where your hand vanished under the hem of your nightdress. 

Your fingers still rested heavily against the damp heat of your inner thigh, aching to finish what they’d started in the pleasure of your own company.  

Your smile turned into a grin of your own. Two could play this game.

“Like what you see?” 

“Plenty,” Astarion confirmed without a moment’s hesitation, inching closer to rest his chin atop his hands on the mattress. “You don’t mind me watching, do you?”

Crimson eyes peered up at you through ridiculously long lashes—just like they were wont to do when Astarion put his mouth to very good use on you. By the way his grin widened knowingly, you understood that this particular look was by far no accident.

You cocked your head as if to ponder his question, even though you were already back to stroking your fingers over your slick folds. 

Whatever the damn elf was doing, it surely was working—but he didn't need to know that, yet. 

“Why, only if you don’t mind me thinking of you…?”

Astarion’s movement was too swift for you to follow. 

He’d given a short laugh in one second and the next he was towering over you. The mattress shifted under his weight; a single water drop detached itself from the tip of one of his locks, falling right onto your half-exposed collarbone. In one swift motion, Astarion dove after it. 

Agonisingly slow, his cold tongue gathered up the liquid, leaving a wet kiss in its place before he drew back again. 

His bold attack was over the moment it had begun. 

“I would feel rather insulted if you didn't, pet,” Astarion drawled, slowly settling down next to you.  

His grin had turned impish as he laid on his side, lazily propped up on one elbow as he watched you try and fail to regain your composure. 

You let out a shaky breath, which only earned you another laugh. 

“Oh, go on, now, dear—I see you’re growing…impatient.”

And go on you did.

Astarion’s way of assisting you in your delightful endeavours could range from fucking you senseless to watching you cum on your own fingers and if he wanted a show today, he could have one. You had no idea where tonight might lead, but you were hells-bent on getting your release one way or the other.

You held Astarion’s gaze as you dipped a finger back into the feverish wetness spreading between your legs, another following suit right after. 

A content sigh slipped past your lips as your fingers circled your swollen clit—which Astarion graced readily by draping your leg across his hip. 

Your breath hitched again as the sudden change of position opened up more room for your endeavour, but it was his cold touch upon you that really stroked the fire underneath your skin.

Astarion’s lithe fingers traced along your ankle, your calf, your knee, hiking up your nightdress until it pooled around your waist—laying your desire bare to him. 

You bit your lip in an effort to keep your eyes from fluttering shut. 

“Enjoying yourself, sweet thing?”

Astarion pulled you closer, knowing very well the impact he had on you—he had a front-row seat, after all. 

“With you? Always,” you panted, your movement growing increasingly erratic as your need soared under his teasing touch. 

You couldn’t quite tell if you were more aroused by your own hand dragging you towards release or by Astarion’s thumbs drawing lazy circles across your skin—so at odds with the urgent pace in which you pleasured yourself.  

You had your answer when his hand fanned out on the back of your thigh, only to inch up further to firmly squeeze your ass.

He let out yet another short laugh at the impetuous moan he elicited from you, though this time it was huskier, more reflex than amusement and he leaned over, his breath tickling your ear. 

“You know,” Astarion whispered as if he were about to reveal a grand secret to you. “I've been thinking about that divine ass of yours all day long.” 

Taking in a sharp breath, you wondered if he realised that his fingertips dug almost painfully deep into your flesh, pinning you in place while your hips tried to chase your hand.

“Only good things, I wager?” 

“The very best,” Astarion breathed against the soft spot between your ear and jaw before his lips travelled across your cheek, only stopping when the tip of his nose grazed yours. 

If he were to kiss you now, you wouldn’t last much longer.

But his lips didn’t meet yours. His eyes were far too busy darting to and fro between your flushed face and dripping wet cunt. 

A slight frown settled between Astarion’s eyes—giving away that he was still considering how much of an assistance he wanted to be tonight. 

There was no denying that you wanted Astarion buried deep inside you, to have him ease that insatiable, torturous desire only he could ignite in you. 

But more than that you wanted—needed—him to want it, too.

Giving him time to sort out what he wanted tonight, your hand slowed into a gentler pace, but this only seemed to fully entrance Astarion. 

The grin long gone, he wet his lips, his eyes darkening. You knew that look all too well; he’d beheld you the same way mere hours ago, right before he’d sunken his fangs into your neck. Want. Hunger. Need. 

Lust. 

It only took another moment for Astarion’s lips to finally brush against yours.

“Mind if I join?” He rasped. His hand wandered down your thigh, grabbing the back of your knee to pull you flush against him. 

Through his loose pants, you could feel his hardening cock rub against your inner thigh as he re-adjusted your leg over his hip, riding up his shirt in the process. 

You urged your leg even higher, hooking it around his waist, moaning at the sweet sensation of his cold skin pressed against your burning flesh.

“Please do,” you almost begged. Couldn’t he see how badly you needed him?

But your consent had barely left your lips that Astarion’s hand slid between your legs, his fingers interlacing with your own. He took up your earlier pace caressing your clit, sending shivers down your spine as he guided two of your joined fingers inside you—stroking that delicious spot that always made you see stars.

Tilting your head back, you let out a blissful little cry which Astarion rewarded with a groan of his own as he traced lingering kisses down your throat. 

You arched your back shamelessly against Astarion’s half-exposed chest, getting rapidly close to your climax. As your hand grew useless from pleasure, animated only by the invisible strings Astarion pulled, all you could do was chase your relief. It would only take a few more strokes of Astarion’s finger, another sweet kiss tickling your skin to send you over the edge and—

You could barely suppress the indignant sound of protest rising in your throat when both hands between your legs came to an abrupt halt. 

“Fuck,” Astarion grunted into the crook of your neck before he suddenly withdrew from you, pulling your own hand along—leaving you empty and trembling with scorching need. 

You wanted to cry.

For a frustratingly long moment, you thought Astarion had changed his mind about your endeavours; that he would retreat to his mischievous voyeurism and leave you to your own devices once more. 

But instead of untangling himself from you, he pushed you onto your back, nesting his hips right between your shaking legs.

His arm came down next to your head and from the corner of your eye, you could see his pale hand glister with your arousal. 

Half-dried, dishevelled locks were plastered to his forehead as Astarion looked down at you, pupils blown with lust—no doubt a mirror of your own. 

“Properly,” he said, his free hand tugging at your nightdress. “Let me fuck you properly. You don’t mind, do you?”

If you weren’t half delirious with pent-up need you might’ve laughed at him. 

“Do whatever you want with me, Astarion,” you pressed through clenched teeth, eagerly helping him work the offending garment over your head. “Enjoy yourself.”

Astarion welcomed your breast with his mouth. By the way his tongue circled your oversensitive nipple, it rather seemed like your ass hadn’t been the only thing on his mind. 

You arched into his kiss, hissing when his fangs grazed your tender flesh. 

His shoulders trembled with a silent laugh before he abandoned your breast in favour of your collarbone and neck, your jaw and finally, again, your lips.

You raked your fingers through Astarion’s locks that were made soft and fragrant by the soap and oils he’d used earlier; pulling him closer, you deepened your kiss. Couldn’t he taste how starved you were for him? 

You were desperate when you hooked your other leg around Astarion’s waist, tugging and sucking at his bottom lip. All you could feel was his still outrageously clothed erection rubbing against your stomach, driving you insane—that, and the cursed bastard smirk melting against your mouth. 

Astarion was enjoying himself all right. 

You bit down on his lip.

It only took a second before you could taste iron on your tongue. Astarion pulled away slowly, still smirking as he licked a blossoming bead of blood off his lips. The sight of him was so heady, so obscene, that your mouth hung agape. 

“You vicious, impatient little thing, you,” he chuckled, cupping your hand clawing at his hair, slowly guiding it to his shoulders, his chest, down to the lacing of his trousers. This time, you bit back a moan. 

“But you’ve been so good, always letting me have all this fun when I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He let out a low hum when he dragged your palm over his taut crotch, undoing the front lacing with the help of your greedy little fingers. 

“But you’ve waited enough, now, haven’t you?” 

Yes! You nodded fervently, his lust-strained voice music to your ears. Yes, you had! 

Astarion let go of your hand to free himself of his trousers, urged on by the way you helped shove them down his thighs. Tears burned in your eyes when you finally caught a glimpse of his beautiful, erect cock. 

For all his teasing, Astarion didn’t waste any time now. 

Grabbing your hip, he aligned you with him, only to tease your throbbing clit with the wet tip of his cock. 

“Astarion…” you whined, arching harder against him—and he was nothing if not a merciful lover. This once, at least.  

By the time he slowly buried himself inside you inch by inch, you no longer cared for whatever noises escaped your mouth. 

For a deliciously long moment, you simply savoured the sensation of your walls stretching around him; Astarion’s hand kneading your hip, his lips back on yours, moaning sweetly into your mouth. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging at the collar of his shirt to feel your breasts squeeze up against his hard chest. Every inch between your bodies was too much to bear.

Astarion’s long eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as he began to roll his hips against yours.  

He set a slow, if not lazy pace—which was unexpected considering all his teasing, but not at all unwelcome. 

You met his rhythmic thrusts, smiling when he pressed his forehead to yours. It was something he’d only taken up after he’d become more comfortable having sex with you, and the gesture elated you every time. 

“Enjoying yourself, my heart?” You breathed in the rare moment your lips parted from his. 

There was no witty or snide remark rolling off Astarion’s tongue, now. Instead, he could only grunt in reply, his eyebrows knitted in concentration—evidence that it took him everything to focus on his self-imposed arduous pace.

Knowing that it was you who did this to him—that it was your body that had him speechless every time he fucked you—had you clench violently around his cock. 

Groaning, Astarion brought his hand back down to your leg. He blindly untangled it from around his waist before pinning it against the mattress with his knee—opening you up even more for him. 

Clearly unable to restrain himself any longer, his pace sped up. 

With new vigour, Astarion pounded into you, hitting that perfect sweet, sweet spot over and over again; eliciting a whimper from you with every frantic thrust of his hips.

You knew he was close to his release when you felt his cock twitch in anticipation, spurring on your own ecstasy. 

You eventually found yourself dissolving into your own pleasure as Astarion spent himself deep inside you.

Unwilling to miss a second of his undoing, though, you watched him squeeze his eyes shut, deepening his frown as his pace became gentler, but not less effective. The sight of his parted lips, the paper-thin skin of his eyelids made pink by your blood circulating underneath his skin—it was nearly enough to push you over the edge. 

Nearly.

You bucked your hips against him, desperate for more friction, more of him. Once again, you wrapped your leg around his waist, pulling him deeper into you; you could never be close enough to him—never have enough of him. 

As if reading your mind, Astarion’s lips found yours once more. He wound his hand between your bodies, cupping your breast, caressing your lower stomach before he slid his hand down between your legs to mingle with his cock.

Knowing you would never tire of this—of him—you let yourself fall, and Astarion’s perfect nimble fingers assisted you graciously through your climax before he collapsed on top of you.

Together, you waited out the aftershock of your orgasm, his cock slowly softening inside you.

“Darling, I take you enjoyed this… admittedly mediocre performance?” 

Astarion’s voice was still raspy with pleasure and faint traces of unwarranted insecurity. 

You gave him a short laugh. “Mediocre?” 

Astarion only shrugged before he wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you to him. 

“I’m enjoying whatever you’re willing to give me, Astarion,” you reminded him, pressing your lips to his forehead. “Always.”  

Astarion’s telltale smirk tugged at his lips as he rested his head in the valley of your breasts. “Very good, my sweet, because I want to thoroughly enjoy myself with you again. And again. And again…” 

You chuckled. “Very good, because I would not mind that at all.”

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

[flowerandblood]

The Evening Star (1/2)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, kidnaping, sexual tension, obsession, incest, toxic relation ]

[ description: When the god of the underworld comes out of his caves once a year to admire his beloved constellation, he accidentally meets his niece, whom he has never seen before. Moved by sudden lust and desire, he kidnaps her, despite her despair and his brother's anger. Angst, sexual tension, dark and obsessive Aemond. ] Part 2: The Moonlight Ray

The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray Persephone Moodboard

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He never understood his brother, hurling his lightning bolts from the heavens at defenceless people in a rage − he did not understand his volatility, he did not understand his irrepressible desire, his unlimited emotionality.

He did not understand how he could desire and feel so many things at once, having his sister-wife haunt and take other goddesses, nymphs, or even human women, begetting bastards on earth and in the heavens.

He did not understand him, for he was emptiness, abyss, coldness, the opposite of his impulsiveness, his eternal volatility − he was like stone, like white marble, soul as well as body.

The only desire he had ever known in his life was the desire for power, and for this his brother deprived him of one eye before casting him into a dark abyss where not even the light of the stars could reach.

Although he was a god, his brother's blow could not be undone and he was forever disfigured, the dark hole in his face filled with a precious stone, sapphire, shining with a disturbing blue light.

Accustomed to the darkness of Hades, he could no longer bear the intense light of the sun and rarely appeared on Olympus itself; he would wander through his dark caverns in his long, black matted robe and gaze at the river Styx, at its pale light and the contorted terrified faces of the souls who swam in it.

When word reached him that his brother had mated with their other sister, the goddess of the field crops, and that she had bore him a daughter, he was neither surprised nor interested − he did not come to celebrate her birth on Olympus or congratulate his brother.

His brother had often suggested to him that he should take a wife, that he should not be alone in the darkness of the underworld.

He, however, felt no such need.

Even his sister, known as the Goddess of Love and Desire, was unable to seduce him.

She touched his naked body with her soft lips and hands, but he felt nothing but embarrassment.

He left Hades only once a year, when his favourite constellation emerged in the sky − He would then stroll through the old, dense forest looking up at the stars, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the rustle of the leaves.

When this time of year came, when he left his caves and looked up, he felt contentment at the sight of the twinkling dots in the sky, the pleasant night breeze enveloping his cold body.

He strolled slowly and aimlessly, looking upwards, all around him only the quiet rustling of his robes and the sound of dew-wet grass lingering beneath his feet.

He froze as he heard someone's footsteps break a twig not far from him, he knew he was not alone and he was furious.

He thought that whoever this mortal was, he would flow right down his river of the dead.

He tilted his head to the side and saw a pale figure illuminated only by shy starlight, her body pressed against the trunk of a tree as if she wanted to take refuge in it, her face expressing helpless anxiety.

Her eyes were big, warm and as dark as his robe, her hair long, partly loose, partly decorated with rich braids encircling her head, small blue flowers woven into her hair.

Her full, moist, fleshy lips were parted slightly in an accelerated breath, her breasts which he could see perfectly through the thin, transparent material of her robe were rising and falling restlessly, her skin glistening like moonlight.

He stared at her, unable to move or make a sound, unsure if he had ever seen a being so infinitely beautiful in his life, luminous as the stars above his head.

He swallowed loudly when he saw that she had taken a step back to retreat, to escape.

"Is it the beautiful Evening Star herself who has left the sky to enchant me with her company?" He asked lowly, impassively, his voice though assured and direct trembled, betraying his desperation.

She stopped in mid-motion and looked at him again, surprised and embarrassed at the same time by his words − it seemed to him that he saw perfectly well how her cheeks flushed, giving her skin a rose tint.

She pressed her lips together watching him carefully, lifting her chin slightly as if probing him closely from afar, assessing whether he was a threat to her, whether he would hurt her.

He was unable to take his eyes off her.

"I will tell you who I am only if you tell me who you are." She whispered in a trembling, gentle tone.

A smirk appeared on his face at the thought that maybe she was a nymph who had ventured too far from her friends, and that she was at his mercy now.

He hummed under his breath and moved ahead, putting his hands behind his back, looking under his feet, moving unhurriedly towards her.

"They call me many names." He said with mischievous amusement, throwing her a piercing, disturbing look from which she shuddered all over, taking a step back again.

"My river, though water is a life-giving gift, brings death." He whispered once he was a few steps away from her, wanting her to solve the riddle herself, to exert herself.

She swallowed loudly, her eyes widening suddenly, as if she had just realised something.

"− uncle −" She whispered, and he froze, stopping in mid-step; for the first time in the thousands of years he had walked the world he felt his own heart pounding hard.

He looked at her in disbelief, and it was only at close that he saw that she did indeed have something of his brother and sister in her, though it was her she resembled more − he felt himself grow even paler than usual, his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

She, however, seemed not frightened about who he was, her face took on an expression full of contentment and warmth. She moved closer to him and now it was he who took a step back feeling a strange heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood throbbed suddenly as he caught a glimpse of the outline of her soft breasts.

"My mother told me a lot about you. About the sun hurting your eye." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly seeing that she was staring at his scar, at the stone placed where his eye once was.

He thought he was like Hephaestus, hideous, disfigured, and that she would never desire him.

He felt his jaw clench tightly, his body tense, hard as granite when she tentatively placed her soft hand on his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of his robe.

He didn't know what was happening to his body, he felt tickling and tension in his lower abdomen, a strenuous need for some kind of relief that he didn't understand.

"Stay with me to watch the sunrise. Don't sink into darkness yet." She whispered as if in worry − he couldn't tear his eyes from her face, from her warm gaze.

He was unable to comprehend how any living being could be so beautiful.

"No." He said coldly, and then grasped her in his arms, his hands clenching on her soft, hot flesh like steel tongs.

For a moment she couldn't make a sound, terrified and shocked − she didn't scream when he threw her over his shoulder and headed towards his underworld, cold, dark, damp.

It was only when she realised what he was doing that she began to struggle and cry, calling loudly for help from her mother and father, begging him not to do it, to let her go, that she would not tell anyone about it.

He, however, decided to follow his brother's advice and take a wife.

The marriage required the oaths from both of them, but this did not prevent him from acknowledging her as his wife even though she refused to speak the words.

Even though he had given her his most beautiful chamber, on whose ceiling precious minerals shimmered like stars, in which streams of water hummed, in which she could lie on a great, soft bed, she did not want to see him.

He was not his brother.

He had no intention of taking her against her will.

It was enough for him that he could look at her every day.

Only him.

He bestowed new gifts on her every day, but she still cried.

He gave her a beautiful long gown of dark, translucent material embroidered with stones in which the warm light of the sun was encased after she said she longed to see it, but she didn't even look at it.

The blue flowers in her hair withered as did the warmth in her eyes − she was slowly becoming as pale as he was and was constantly shivering from the cold.

She would not let him embrace or touch her; she covered herself with the thick furs he had given her and turned away from him.

Occasionally something would awaken in her − she would then run up to him when he visited her and beg him to let her leave to see her mother.

"I promise you that I will come back and that I will be your wife. Please, let me see the sunshine and the fresh grass one last time." She begged, touching tenderly his cold cheek with her fingers, almost as if she loved him, and he almost gave in to her every time.

"I can't, Persephone." He replied coolly, feeling some kind of pain seeing the despair on her face, hearing her helpless sobbs again, her small hands clenched on his robe, her cheek hugged to his chest.

"My name is Kora." She mumbled with difficulty, as if enraged. He hummed at her words, lifting slowly his large, cold hand, taking unruly strands of her hair from her face, all red from crying.

"Persephone, this name, is my gift to you. For my sweet wife." He whispered, and she trembled, struggling to breathe, shaking all over.

"− please −" She babbled as he embraced her uncertainly and stroked her hair, relishing its soft texture, letting her draw on this substitute of comfort.

He walked with her through the interiors of Hades, wanting to show her that besides death, there was also beauty in the underworld − underground streams and lakes with crystal clear water, his three-headed, beloved Cerberus, who in his presence turned from a monstrous beast into a gentle, docile animal.

Sometimes it seemed to him that a smile adorned her face for a moment, but then the sadness came over her again − she shuddered with cold and fear hearing the wailing of souls floating in the Styx, she glanced nervously in that direction, swallowing loudly.

"Are they suffering a lot? Can they be helped?" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, walking beside her with his arms folded behind his back.

"They are paying for what they have done in their lifetime. Their merits and transgressions have been weighed by Temida, who has issued a judgment on them. There is nothing I can do." He admitted with a glance at her, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her at last, and she lifted her large, frightened eyes to him, her lips parted but no sound came from her throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling a sting in his chest.

He asked her if she was afraid of him after he had kidnapped her and held her against her will.

What did he expect?

The wrath of his brother and sister was quickly getting to him − her mother distraught at her disappearance had fallen into a state of utter agony, people were being starved to death by the land's failure to yield crops, there were more souls flowing in the Styx than he had ever seen in his centuries-long life.

He felt a kind of satisfaction when his brother descended into the underworld for the first time since time immemorial; he hated to think about dying and passing, and could not grasp the meaning of such a short life, knowing only the meaning of infinity himself.

He came out to meet him sitting proudly on his black marble throne, thousands of skulls at his feet.

For the first time he looked down on his brother, a gigantic cave all around them, Styx surrounding them on all sides except a small bridge.

"Brother. I warn you for the last time. If you don't give me my daughter..."

"Then what? I should take a wife at last – those are your words, aren't they?" He asked with a sneer, sitting stretched out comfortably in his seat.

"I want to see her." He demanded, and his lips tightened at his words. "Or I'll take her away from you myself and you'll never see her again."

"I poured water from my river into the honey she drank. Like any soul who has already bound herself to the underworld, she will not leave Hades without my permission." He said calmly, and his brother's face flushed red, his angry low voice echoing around him so that the ground shook around them.

"I WANT TO SEE HER!"

He hummed under his breath and nodded to his servant to bring her in.

His wife came out of her chamber a moment later − when she saw her father she immediately beamed, ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

He looked at them coolly, feeling his heart pounding fast, his stomach twisting with rage.

"My sweet daughter. Did he hurt you?" He asked as if the welfare of any woman mattered to him, as if he hadn't raped an endless number of innocent girls, forgetting them quickly because they were dying in what seemed to him to be just the blink of an eye.

He swallowed loudly when his Persephone shook her head, tightening her lips, lowering her head.

"He's good to me." She whispered and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain he had never known before.

His brother looked at him accusingly, trying to contain his aggressive, abrupt nature.

"People are suffering hunger because of you. Her mother has gone mad with despair, the flowers are not blooming, the grains are not yielding. Let them be together at least a few months of the year and I will recognise your marriage in the eyes of Olympus." He suggested, and he furrowed his brow.

"No." He hissed coldly, his gaze icy, piercing, furious, his hand clenched into a fist. "She is my wife. A wife's place is with her husband."

His brother moved in fury, wanting to lash out at him, the ground shook around them again, but his daughter's hand stopped him.

"Let us speak alone, father." She said softly; his brother backed away, panting heavily, his jaw clenched tight.

He hummed under his breath when he saw his wife move towards him, climbing the black, cold stone steps to finally stand before him − his brother snorted and turned, walking away, furious.

He looked up at his Persephone massaging his chin, delighted to see the outline of her body shapes beneath her thin white robe.

He shuddered and swallowed loudly, shocked as she sat on his lap, his manhood throbbed suddenly feeling her body so close, her fresh scent like a cool morning breeze.

"− husband −" She whispered with a soft click of her pink tongue, her hips innocently rubbing against his hardness, his body shivered at the sound of that word.

She had never called him that before.

She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips so gently, tenderly, slow strokes of her hips teasing him so innocently, that he parted his lips, breathing with increasing difficulty, his palms tightening on his cold stone armrests.

He could feel his length pulsing and swelling with every motion she made, he didn't understand what was happening to him.

He didn't stop her when she reached up to tie of his matte black robe, he drew in a loud breath and closed his eyelids when her delicate hand tentatively touched what was underneath.

"I am yours. I will give myself to you of my own free will." She whispered in a sweet, warm, trembling voice, her gaze misty, her lips full, swollen, red from emotion.

A quiet, low groan broke from his throat as he felt her hand direct the fat head of his manhood between her thighs with a gentle movement, he could see through the translucent material as she slowly began to sink him into her body.

He tilted his head back with quiet moan, licking his lower lip, feeling her hot, fleshy insides squeeze him wonderfully from all sides − she was surprisingly moist and warm, her core throbbing with arousal.

He felt her put her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto him with a loud, sweet gasp, her plump lips parted wide.

His hands involuntarily gripped her hips as she began to move, rising and falling against his length so painfully slowly that he had to close his eyelids shut, panting louder and louder along with her.

"– gods –" He exhaled with difficulty as she accelerated, the loud, sticky slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the dark cavern, his manhood throbbing and twitching inside her, all hard and swollen with pleasure.

Involuntarily, his cold fingers clenched on the hot skin of her hips − he rooted his manhood into her tight, moist insides with his desperate, pathetic thrusts, her sticky moisture dripping down her thighs.

"– for our marriage to be valid you must fill me with yourself, my husband –" She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, droplets of sweat glistening on her body like little diamonds, her sweet moans of pleasure, her slick walls sucking him inside made him loose his temper.

He gasped weakly at her words, he had never felt a woman's insides before, had never desired anyone before her.

He felt like his manhood was going to explode with desire and lust, his thrusts became faster and more brutal, her soft breasts bouncing in front of his face − he lifted his hand and squeezed it tentatively, a soft mewl of delight erupted from her throat.

"– Persephone –" He breathed out pleadingly, imploringly, and then she kissed him, her hot, swollen, moist lips clinging to his, cold, dead, the tips of their tongues licking each other.

"– please –" She mewled although he didn't know what she was actually asking him, and then he heard her cry loudly, as if surprised, her hot insides clenching against him greedily, her tongue deep in his throat.

He felt with each thrust of his hips that he was getting closer and closer to something he'd never experienced before in his life.

Fulfilment.

The wave of heat and pleasure, his seed that spilled inside her surprised him so much that his voice stuck in his throat, and then again and again a low, helpless groan broke from his mouth − both of them were panting as they looked at each other with their lips open wide, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hips.

"I'm yours." She whispered softly, sweetly − he was looking at her feeling only peace, only love. "I am only yours, so please, let me see her."

He felt the heat in his heart replaced by coldness, his brow furrowed in a sense of anger, of pain, of betrayal.

"No." He hissed, wanting to lift her up, but she shook her head, cupping his face in her warm, soft hands.

"I will never truly be your wife if you won't trust me. If I don't come back to you of my own free will." She said helplessly, pain, fear and suffering in her eyes again, his lips tightened into a thin line at her words.

"Nine months with my mother so I can enjoy the sun, and then three here, just with you, every night, every day, I swear." She whispered tenderly pressing her face against his cheek, her scent overpowering and stupefying him, her warm insides still pleasantly enveloping his already soft manhood.

He swallowed loudly at her words, his palms digging firmly into the soft skin of her thighs.

"You're lying. You will never come back to me." He hissed and groaned low when he felt her hips begin to move up and down again with a loud click of her wetness and his spend, his manhood pulsed involuntarily with pleasure, betraying him.

"I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."

As much as she wanted him to lead her away, he didn't want to watch her disappear beyond the borders of Hades never to return.

He didn't want to watch her run merrily towards the light, thanking the gods for his weakness and naivety, for how every woman in history had been able to exploit a man's desires.

He did not want her to see his expression, his suffering and all the other feelings he did not want to feel.

The day after she left, he went to her chamber and lay in her bedding, sinking his nose into her scent.

He found, with regret and pain, that with each passing month her scent grew fainter and fainter, her silhouette in his mind becoming more and more blurred, as if he had never really met her.

He touched himself thinking about her, experiencing both wonderful and painful fulfilment with the knowledge that he would never feel her again.

He preferred to explain to himself that it was just a dream.

That he had never met her.

He knew she would not return.

She would not return to her captor, to the man who had kept her in a dark underworld for months, deaf to her pleas and sobs, a man who was crippled, who was cold, frightening and empty.

Despite this, despite knowing it, when the day came he could think of nothing else − he watched as the sand shifted in the great hourglass constructed of bone and glass as he lay in his chamber, drinking wine, feeling like a demented madman, listening for her footsteps amidst the groans of the dead.

She did not come.

He stared at the empty hourglass, which turned and the sand began to shift again, counting down the time of the new day; he wondered how he could have been so naïve to wait.

For the first time in ages he felt an embarrassing, burning wetness under his eyelids − proof that he really loved her.

He shuddered when he heard the quiet rustling of robes − he glanced sideways and saw her standing in the doorway of his dark chamber, in her hair beautiful small yellow flowers, her face bright and warm.

She wore the gown he had given her, black, decorated with sun rays stones.

"My mother kept me. She couldn't let me go." She whispered, and he felt his throat tighten, his body freeze, unable to make a sound or make any movement.

He breathed hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his lower lip and hands trembling involuntarily as she approached him slowly, as her hands untied the bindings of his robe with a light, easy motion, revealing what was underneath, how much he wanted her, how much he waited for her.

"I have been counting down the days when I will see your face again." She whispered, running her fingers over his scarred cheek, sitting on top of him, gently taking his hard length in her palm, lowering herself onto the fat head of his cock as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wanted to tell her that he didn't believe her, but instead a surprised, throaty groan of pleasure burst from his mouth − he tilted his head back, panting loudly, his hips involuntarily beginning to root his manhood into her fleshy, moist insides, her hands clenched on his shoulders.

"– fuck –" He gasped out looking at her with his lips parted, synchronising his thrusts with the rhythm of her body − he swallowed loudly as she slid the material of her robe off her shoulders, exposing her soft, plump breasts to him.

"– touch me, husband –" She cooed, and he lifted himself, immediately pressed his lips to her breast, sucking on it greedily, licking and teasing her nipple with his tongue, all hard with desire.

She sank her fingers into his long white hair and pressed his face against her chest, rising and falling on top of him with a loud click of her moisture, moaning so sweetly and loudly that he felt like his manhood was about to explode.

"– were you touching yourself? – did you touch yourself when you weren't with your husband? –" He hissed out in a trembling voice between flicks of his tongue, she kissed his hair in an attempt to soften his question and her answer.

"– forgive me, husband – forgive me, I've missed you so terribly –" She mumbled helplessly as he ran his fingers down her hips, twisting with her so that she fell on her back.

He gripped her thighs in his hands, looking down at her − her face all red with exertion, her hair scattered in disarray around her head, her body all bare before him, hot, beautiful, his.

"– I think I should remind you to who this body belongs to –" He growled, ending his sentence with a deep, brutal thrust, a loud, surprised moan escaping from her throat.

"– you are mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– repeat –"

"– I – I'm yours – I'm yours, forgive me, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty and drew in the air loudly as he spread her thighs shamelessly in front of him, looking down at the place where their bodies joined, her entrance clenching against him steadily, leaking with her wetness.

"– I forgive you, sweet wife –" He gasped, recognising this act of grace as an expression of his love and gratitude that she had not betrayed him, that she had returned, that he held her in his arms again.

"– I'll fill you with my seed and it'll be just as it should be –" He exhaled as he watched the perverse sight of their bodies slamming against each other with a loud slaps, his thrusts deep and sure, each time opening her wide on his thick, swollen cock.

He couldn't believe that she had come back to him, that he could smell her wonderful, floral scent again, that she was allowing him to possess her of her own free will.

Her fingers grasped his hand and sank it between her thighs − he felt her direct him to the small bud between her soft folds, she moaned when he touched her there.

"– here, husband – please –" She mewled and moaned loudly, throwing her head back as he began to rub her there, simultaneously caressing her inside and out, her core beginning to pulse greedily against him.

"– gods – stop clenching –" He exhaled with difficulty, rooting into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her fleshy walls apart with the sticky click of her moisture.

He felt that if he went on like this he would simply come inside her, when he wanted to torment her, to prolong the moment of this immense pleasure and encounter after so many months.

"– I can't – I can't –" She sobbed loudly and he saw her fulfilment in all its glory, her hot, soft flesh went through convulsions, greedily sucking him inside, her lips parted wide in pleasure, her gaze misty and warm.

He cursed loudly, coming inside her so painfully hard that he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, rooting into her for a moment longer, the relief and delight that surged through his body was indescribable.

He looked at her beautiful face, her hands on either side of her head, her expression nothing but fulfilment and peace, her breathing uneven and ragged, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.

She looked up at him after a moment and smiled sleepily, raising her hand slowly − her soft fingertips ran over his scarred cheek and he closed his eyes, feeling pleasant, hot squeeze in his heart.

"What is my wife's name?" He asked in a whisper, kissing her warm, small hand, smelling of fresh grass and flowers. He heard her sigh sweetly at his question, her fingers sliding lower, running over his cold lips.

"Persephone."

_____

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[mangekyuou]

          ✩༄ diet mountain dew ! | red-haired shanks.

☆ — pairing! . . .  mobster!shanks x bartender!f!reader.

☆ — summary! . . .  as a mob boss’s kid who is sheltered from the underground, there’s only a handful of things your old man wanted you to be aware of. one of those things were men you shouldn’t hang around. number one on the list was him, the one with the red hair, the mobster giving your old man the most trouble. you would never break your promise to your old man, would you?

☆ — cw(s)! . . .  mafia!au.  nsfw.  afab!reader.  ( “cunt” / “core” used to describe genitals among others ) no pronouns used.  reader wears a short dress.  age gap.  reader is implied to be in their early 20s.  sub!reader.  fingering.  oral.  ( f and m receiving )  facefucking.  overstimulation.  piv.  unprotected sex.  shanks calls the reader “angel” and “gorgeous”.  reader calls shanks “red”.  alcohol consumption. not proofread.  MINORS DNI. 

☆ — wc! . . .  3.4k.

☆ — notepad! . . .  i promised someone a shanks smut...i couldn’t stick to the original script so as an apology, i give you mobster!shanks and rival boss’s kid <3 wow! that summary was not good lmaoooo

You shouldn’t!

You can’t!

If they caught you like this! You’d be dead!

The voice in the back of your head grew stronger, and louder with every rough touch, every passionate kiss, every pretty shallow moan, and sigh that escaped from your bruised lips into his mouth. The voice of reason, screaming at you, to stop, to remember the consequences, as your hands found their way into his hair, gently tugging at his dark red locks, pulling him closer, deeper into you. The feeling of his strong chest finally pressed against yours, made you shiver.

You could feel the redhead smile briefly against your lips before finally breaking your kiss. You stared breathlessly at him. His dark, lust-filled eyes stared back at you with want, with need. Before you could catch your breath, he spun you around, entrapping you between his body and the cold bar. You could feel his bulge pressed against your ass.

With a light satisfied hum, you leaned over the bar, your bare cheek touching the cool surface. The redhead had followed suit, letting his broad chest press against your back. His lips grazed the top of your ear. “You look so fucking beautiful bent over this bar, Angel,” He whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine, “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” The redhead kissed down to your neck that you would be covered in deep purple blotches, come morning. You could feel his smirk on your hot skin. Everything was pointing to this being a bad idea, to him being a bad idea.

There were many titles you had come to know the redhead by since you had become old enough to listen in on the family trade. Listening intently from behind the bar to the mobsters you had come to know as older brothers, sitting around the poker table with a cigar hanging from their mouths and a handful of cards.

The Red Devil. Eyes of Death.

But one stuck out to you the most.

“The bastard you should stay away from”, You remembered your father’s words, with that harsh glare that you and the others had become all too familiar with. You had nervously brushed it off, reassuring your father that you wouldn’t even dream of being in the same room with an enemy of the family, let alone him.

Nobody could be that stupid to just waltz into enemy territory so carelessly, let alone set foot in the speakeasy operated by the boss’ kid! It was suicide! Though you have never seen the things your father and his underlings do to those they call enemies, you heard a few of the gruesome rumors. Just what man would even risk that?

Who else than the fearless redhead himself?

The door to your bar opened and closed, as your back was turned. You could not help but roll your eyes, as you pointed to the clock on the wall across the room, “We’re closed, you know.”

“Aww, you close pretty early for a Saturday night, gorgeous,” An unfamiliar voice reached your ears. You could hear the playful disappointment in his tone. You nearly felt his pout through his words.

Your words did not seem to turn him away. You could hear the heels of his boots, getting closer before stopping altogether. You could hear the stranger plop down into one of the bar stools, making himself all comfortable right after you told him you were closed, “I take it you’re not a night owl then.” He teased.

“And I take it you’re not good at following directions,” You retorted, your back still turned to him, finishing up stocking the bar shelves.

“Something like that.” He laughed.

You were starting to get irritated, “Look. For the last time, we’re closed. We closed almost an hour ago. You can either come back tomorrow or I bring somebody in here to come retrieve you. My folks ain’t too friendly to people who...” You finally turned around, your eyes finally meeting his.

Shanks, the boss of that ragtag group of mobsters from the east side of town. The ragtag group of nobodies pushing themselves onto other families’ territories because they had gotten too big for their own britches, you heard your father say once. They wanted a hand in everyone’s business, by any means necessary. Even if it meant spilling a few pints of blood.

He was a dangerous man, even more so than the men you had known all of your life. And he stumbled his way into your speakeasy out of all of the ones on this side of town. He had to know what he was doing here. There was no way it was just luck.

“Your folks ain’t too friendly to people who do what exactly?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish your sentence, “Cat got your tongue?”

There was no amount of front you could put on that would fool him. The way his dark eyes bore into you, he could read you easily. He noticed you swallow shallowly. He almost instantly lost the intimidating aura that surrounded him, a playful one taking its place as he let out a hearty laugh, “I’m just messing with you, Angel.”

Angel.

Running this bar, you thought you heard all the pet names there were to hear. But Angel…felt different, especially coming from his lips. You almost didn’t mind it, but only from him.

You took a good look at him. You had seen pictures of the greedy bastard before. But seeing him in person you realize those photos weren’t doing him any justice.

He was a gorgeous man and by the way he carried himself, you knew that he knew it too. He was confident. He was mature. His rugged look and the aged scars that covered his tanned skin added a nice charm. The top buttons of his button-up were left undone, giving you a nice glimpse at his strong, hairy chest. He took very good care of himself. You wondered if he had done the same on the lower half.

“I don’t mind being gawked at by a pretty thing such as yourself. But I think a deserve a drink if you’re just gonna stand there and eye-fuck me, don’t you think?”

You dropped your eyes to your station. You could feel your body burning. He was vulgar and blunt. Something you weren’t used to in this business. Your father’s high rank often made others scared to even look at you when the boss was around.

No funny ideas about the boss’s kid! But him? He didn’t care. Maybe because he was older than most of these mobsters who worked for your father. Perhaps because he had much more experience under his belt. Whatever it was, it was doing something for you. And you wanted to have a bit of fun.

You fixed the redhead a glass of the strongest whiskey you have. You set the glass down in front of him, “It’s on the house.”

“Oh?”

“As a thank you for giving me something nice to look at,” He watched as your eyes traveled down his chest, before meeting his gaze again.

He couldn’t hold his chuckle, “Cute and flirty. I may have just found the best speakeasy and the sexiest bartender on this side of town. Maybe I’ll come back to see you.”

He sure knew how to make a person feel all giddy. As the drinks kept coming, the flirting continued. You were enjoying his company, his words, his eyes raking over your figure wrapped in that minidress that didn’t leave much to one’s imagination.

“You’re going to drink me out of business. That whiskey was expensive, Red.” You frown, shaking the near-empty bottle, to feel just how empty it was, “I should charge this to your tab.” You set the bottle aside, turning to the buzzed mobster sitting on the other side of the bar. After drinking nearly the entire bottle, he seemed only a little tipsy. Just how often did he drink?

“Aww, don’t be like that, Angel. You had a few swigs too,” He whined.

“But the difference is I own the place. You? You’re here to flirt your way into a few drinks and walk out without paying, huh?” You teased, boldly leaning over the bar top, your face just inches away from the most dangerous man in town. And here you were, welcoming said danger.

Shanks smirked, downing the last corner of the whiskey in his glass, leaning towards you until the tips of your nose had grazed one another’s, “Without paying? What kind of man you take me for? I’ll pay you back tenfold and then some in ways these little boys that run around here can’t. I’ll make you feel like the only one in the world.” His tone had darkened.

“Yeah? What kind of payment are you looking to treat me to, Red?” You played coy.

“Come around the bar and I’ll show you, Angel.”

Which is how you ended up here, bent over the bar with his body pressed against yours, his rough lips trailing down to the base of your neck. You wanted this. You need this. You craved this, you craved him. To hell with the consequences, you needed him.

He pulled away suddenly, straightening himself back up. He wasted no time, flipping up your minidress to reveal your ass, “Such a perfect ass. You wanted me to see you like this, huh? This little fucking dress you got on. If you can even call this little thing a dress.” His hands gently caressed your ass, as he focused on your already-soaked panties, “Never have I seen a dress so short. If you bent over earlier, I’d see everything. But you’d like that wouldn’t you, Angel? You’re already dripping. Slip out of these for me.”

You nodded your head, helping him pull down your drenched panties. You stepped out of them, letting them fall to the floor. You reached for the zipper of your dress next, “The dress too?”

“The dress stays on. Need to fuck you good in this so you remember me every time you put it on.”

You unconsciously squeezed your thighs together at his words, reaching around to capture his lips in a short kiss. He pulled away from your lips, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He placed two fingers on your bottom lip, “Suck. Get them all nice and wet for me.”

You took his digits into your mouth, coating them. Once they were drenched to his liking, he pulled them out of your mouth, replacing them with his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss. He used his foot, to spread your legs further, bringing his drenched digits down to your core. He slid his fingers up and down your entrance, before sliding them inside of you painfully slow, making you moan into his mouth.

He began to pump his fingers into you, pulling away from your lips, “This okay?”

“Better than okay. Your fingers feel really good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He latched onto your shoulder, sucking and licking at your skin, as he drove his thick digits in and out of you, curling them. His pace grew faster in response to your moans. He needed to hear more, he wanted you to be loud. He needed to hear just how good he was making you feel, letting all your worries wash away and be replaced with pleasure.

Your body began to wrench underneath him. You were close, so dangerously close. And he knew it. He could feel your walls contracting around his fingers. “Close, Angel?” He said into your shoulder, earning a frantic nod from you.

Very suddenly, his lips parted from your shoulder and he slipped his digits out of you. Before you could whine about the loss of contact, how you were so close, the mobster carefully dropped to his knees, shoving his face into your cunt, burying his hot tongue into you. Finally tasting you, he hummed in delight.

“Fuck!” Your body shuttered, reaching your high on his face. He helped you ride out your first orgasm on his tongue, but he continued to lap at your folds from behind, whispering praises you couldn’t even focus on due to the slight sting of overstimulation washing over your body. You tried to lean away from his mouth, though the mobster had other plans, wrapping his arm around to keep you moving too far. “I’m not finished with you yet. Be a good little barkeep and take everything I give you.”

You gripped tightly onto the edge of the bar, pushing your ass back to meet his tongue, fucking yourself on the muscle. Though you could not see him, from his delighted hums and the way his fingers gripped into the plush of your skin, you knew he was enjoying himself too.

It was not long before the second band of pleasure began to build up inside of you. Feeling you contract around his tongue, his large hand found its way back to yours, intertwining your fingers. You gave his hand a tight squeeze before cumming. Your second orgasm washed over you even more intensely than the first. Your legs had nearly given out, if you weren’t trapped between him and the bar, you would have likely fallen.

He helped you ride out your second orgasm, before letting go of your hand. His hand found the bar to use as a crutch to stand. He used the back of his hand, to wipe the glistening arousal still left on his chin, “You may taste much better than the whiskey. But maybe I need another taste to compare the two.”

After catching your breath, you slowly turned around to face him. You watched the redhead reach for the whiskey bottle, taking the last swig. He looked between you and the empty bottle, “I was correct, you taste better.”

You roll your eyes. “Even after all that, you’re still adding to your tab.”

“I can pay it off now, don’t you think?” He pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving your hands pressed onto his chest. Everything about him was intoxicating. He was addicting. You just could not get enough of him.

Your hands had found themselves on the buttons of his shirt, undoing the rest of them. He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, helping you slip his shirt off. You fiddled with the button and zipper of his trousers, undoing them before palming his bulge. He sighed softly, his dark eyes never left yours. “If you didn’t owe me for the whiskey maybe I’d return the favor this time,” You teased.

“Oh, how mean,” He chuckled, “You’ll have plenty of chances to return the favor later.”

“Oh? I will?”

“Absolutely,” He placed a peck on the tip of your nose, sealing his promise. “Spin around again for me.” You spun around in his warm hold, finding yourself bent over the bar for him again. You flipped up your dress this time. Though a piece of you wanted to see him, all of him, you sure didn’t mind being bent over like this, with nowhere to run, the man you shouldn’t be with pinning you down. It was all just such a rush.

Shanks pulled his trousers down just enough to free his hardened cock. He suddenly guided his length along your folds, using your arousal as lubricant. The action made you jolt in surprise. Against your entrance, you could feel how thick he was. You could even feel the prominent veins running down his shaft.

“You feel me, Angel? What you do to me? Huh?” He purred lowly. You hummed in response, eagerly anticipating feeling him deep inside of you. Shanks lined his length up with your entrance, guiding his length into your dripping core. You both let out a drawn-out moan as he bottomed out. The stretch of his cock inside of you was delicious. You’ve never felt so full.

The redhead leaned down, kissing up from your shoulder to your neck, “Fuck, you feel better than I imagined. I should just whisk you away after this.”

You grinned, tossing your head to the side to give him more access to your neck, “I wouldn’t mind for a day.”

“All I get is one day?”

“Fuck me right and I’ll consider adding a second.”

“Such a fucking tease,” He whispered, kissing your lips as he began to rock his hips into yours. He rolled out, leaving the tip before sinking back into your cunt, moaning against your lips. He set a slow but deep pace into you, as he kissed you, swallowing every moan and whimper you were giving him.

His pace gradually grew. His thrusts had grown fast and rough. He let go of your lips, groaning a hushed fuck into your shoulder. Your speakeasy was filled with the sound of his hips pounding your ass into the bar, your moans, and his low curses and praises of you.

“You’re taking me so well. So fucking well,” He praised. His hand moved from its place on your hip, down to your clit to rub rapid, messy circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He didn’t miss the way you shivered at the sensation. The way you gripped tighter onto the bar, the way your eyes had wired shut. “My pretty angel.”

He leaned close to your ear, “You like being fucked like this? Huh? Knowing anyone could just walk in and see you like this? To see you for what you truly are? I need your words, gorgeous.”

“YES! I LOVE IT, SHANKS!”

“Oh, so you can say my name. How cute.” He could feel your walls start to contract again. A cocky grin appeared on his features, “You gonna cum again, Angel?”

“YES! FUCK YES!”

“Cum.” He grunted into your ear, sending you over the edge once more. You shuttered underneath him with a loud cry of his name, coating his cock in your juices. Your orgasm had nearly brought him to his end. He shut his eyes tightly, as he focused on hitting that high. His thrusts were sloppy and uneven, he was so close, “I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“My mouth.”

“Yeah?”

The redhead pulled out, stroking his cock, as he watched you spin around and drop to your knees. You swatted away his hand, replacing it with yours, as you took him as deep as you could into your mouth.

“FUCK!” He shivered under your touch, your hot mouth, shooting ropes of his warm cum down your throat. His hand found its way to the back of your head, pushing you further onto his cock, as he gently thrusted into your mouth to ride out his orgasm. After a deep sigh and a hearty laugh, he pulled his length out of your mouth. “Get your pretty ass up here.”

You climbed back up to your somewhat still wobbling feet, nearly falling into him, as he crashed his lips onto yours. You were the one to pull away this time, “You should get outta here, Red. I don’t want my folks to see you here.”

“You kicking me to the curb like that? I’m hurt,” He pouted, “Aw come on, the night is still young. We can do whatever you like. Hit up another bar, go for a nice drive through town…” He trailed off, reaching for the hem of your dress, “…maybe take this thing off back at my place. We can do whatever your little heart desires. Just be my angel.”

“You want me to be your angel for the night?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, my angel for a lifetime,” He clarified, stepping behind you, peppering your neck in open-mouthed kisses. You tried your hardest to act uninterested. You folded your arms across your chest, crossed your legs, and pretended to be annoyed at his affections.

A one-night stand was one thing, but being with him was something different. There was no turning back then. There was no telling what your folks would do if they found it, even if they found out about him being here. Could you risk it? Would you risk it?

He was no good for you. But it made you desire him even more. Just...just this once. Just...him. You needed to have him.

What the family didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[highdefinitions]

everybody writing dew being the desperate fuck from that video but what i think you’re failing to consider is that dew does not even look at swiss HOWEVER swiss marches himself across that stage and curls himself around dew. grabs him. dew is not even phased and swiss is biting him and grabbing him. you don’t get it do you? SWISS IS THE DESPERATE BASTARD HELLOOOOO

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 That's my darlin'..

Reward CW: Abduction, blackmail, dub-con, humiliation, oral (giving)

The basement was suddenly filled with light, illuminating first on the staircase from the opened door then blinding (Reader) when their kidnapper flipped on the light switch. They shuffled back into the furthest corner of their cage. The cage was wide enough to lay down in and tall enough to sit up on their knees.

"Good morning, darlin'!" Billy joyfully called out as he hit the bottom step. "Did you sleep well?" Nothing good ever came from trying to reason with the bastard, so (Reader) was nervous to play along. Black boots clomped against cement as he approached the cage.

"I'm.. I'm really hungry, Billy." (Reader) tried not to cry, knowing that by responding they were entering whatever sick game Billy had prepared for them. It was always something new, some disturbing way to humiliate them and break them down. They didn't want to, but the hunger pains were too extreme to ignore.

"Well, you know what you have to do to get what you want.."

"You want me to beg?!"

"Heavens no! I'm your future husband, not your God. I don't want you to beg.. but.." Billy smiled wide, revealing all his sharp, uneven teeth. "if you play real nice, I'll reward ya. What do you say?"

"Okay." Hoping Billy meant complimenting him or sweet talking him (Reader) agreed far too quickly, scooting over to the bars he stood at. "What do you want me to do?"

"Pretend like we're newlyweds." The bastard said matter-of-factly.

Blushing not with cute embarrassment, but shame, (Reader) smiled as sweetly as they could. They knew it was a trap, but they needed to eat. "We-Welcome home, baby! How w-was work?"

His shoulders relaxed, releasing tension as his sinister smile turned loving. "It was a rough one, but I'm glad to be home now! I missed you."

"I... missed you too."

The warm and tender look on his face darkened again, revealing the twist that (Reader) had been waiting for. Billy unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants to his knees, standing in only his boxers in front of (Reader), his hips level with their face. (Reader) flinched away, crying out "What are you doing?!"

"Ah ah ah, newlyweds, remember? Madly in love, still in our honeymoon phase, newlyweds. What does my little darlin' want to do, seeing the man they love like this?"

Tears stuck to (Reader's) lashes like dew drops on spider webs. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well.. you're already on your knees."

Sobbing silently, (Reader) reached through the bars, rubbing Billy's flaccid penis through his underwear. His body was pressed against the cage, giving (Reader) complete access to his body. They kissed him through the musty cloth, feeling his cock harden against their lips. Trembling fingers continued playing with Billy's member until he sighed

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't want it.."

"No!"

(Reader) hastily pulled down his boxers, eagerly kissing and licking the growing member. They sucked on his dick, feeling as it swelled to fill their mouth. Their hands continued frantically petting him, caressing his heavy testicles tenderly as they swirled their tongue across his slit.

Billy groaned in approval, encouraging (Reader) to continue. Hearing his heavy breathing and feeling his subtle bucking into their mouth warmed (Reader) down to their core. They kept telling themselves that they were only acting desperate for his dick because they wanted to be let out of their cage, but the uncomfortable feeling in their own under garments continued increasing as the hungrily devoured Billy's dripping precum.

"That's my darlin'.." Billy praised, making (Reader) whimper sweetly with their bruised lips still wrapped around his shaft. "Fuck, you're doing such a good job playing house.."

Grabbing their head through the bars, Billy pulled (Reader) off his dick with a wet pop, releasing his load onto their face, painting their flushed cheeks and tired eyes with his thick semen.

"What do you say?"

(Reader) smiled dopily, knowing that they did a good job. "Thank you, sweetheart!"

"Very good." Billy cooed, reaching down to his back pocket and pulling out (Reader's) reward: the key.

[forlorn-crows]

@kkaisarion: #it's like they're kissing across someone's cock i mean mic i mean cock i mean m–

how do we feel about sliding copia's cock right in between there?

𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒖𝒎 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒎

explicit. 589 words.

⛧

EDIT: @jimothybarnes commissioned @foxybouquet for a companion piece to this and i--

Read on AO3 here!

Know you’re stressed. Us too. 

Let us take the edge off. 

And that’s how Copia eventually found himself thrust between the lips of his two guitarists; biting into his knuckles to stifle the unbecoming sounds falling from his lips, a haze of weed smoke pleasantly clouding his anxious mind, and sunk deep into a plush (miraculous for a hotel) armchair that the two ghouls unceremoniously plopped him into after they started pawing at him over his clothes. 

What a sight they are together. Poised just like they are sometimes onstage, leaning in close for backup vocals, but instead of a microphone, their lips close the distance to kiss across his cock, messily making out along the shaft. It’s sloppy, full of saliva and tongue. Full of sidelong glances through droopy eyes, lazy smirks shared between the two that make his balls twitch. 

Dew kneads at his thigh. “Could fuck you, if you wanted.” The suggestion sends a zing of dizzy pleasure up Copia’s spine, and he almost draws blood from his fist. The fire ghoul noses into the close cropped hair at the base of his cock, looking up at him with a siren stare of molten copper. Alluring. Striking confidence despite the warmth on his face from the weed. Copia’s also struck with the amusing image of a wide-eyed cat stalking its prey. 

“Or,” Aether pipes up, moving to kiss the slender head of his cock. His hand sneaks out to Dew’s ass, wrapping around the base of his tail and tugging. Copia watches his eyes roll back as he moans into his groin, arching into the quint ghoul’s touch. “Could give you a little show.” He pets down the length of Dew’s ashen hair, pulls at the ends. “If you wanted.” 

“Hah–shit,” he gasps, nearly bucking into the warmth of Aether’s mouth. Dew slides his lips down to his balls, and he has to hide his face in his hands lest he cum just from the sight of him sucking them in. 

“Let us see,” he whines in protest, reaching up to tug weakly at Copia’s elbow. 

Aether hums in agreement. “Don’t hide, Papa.”

He wheezes out a laugh, delirious and wholly out of his mind. “You two will be the fucking death of me,” he groans. 

“Gonna cum like this, huh?”

“Cazzo, ti prego,” he groans. 

“Think that means yes, please, Aether, shove my cock down your throat so I can cum in it,” Dew mumbles into the seam of his balls. Bastard of a ghoul. Copia silently curses his brother posthumously for always picking the pretty, silver-tongued ones. 

“Always so mean to your Papa–ah!” He can’t finish his chiding, because Aether, indeed, swallows down most of his cock in one go, his nose just brushing against Dew’s where they meet at the base. The smaller ghoul trills and rubs the tips of them together, fluttering his lashes up at the anti-pope. All at once he feels like a mouse trapped in a corner by two fanged beasts ready to pounce. Already easy to feel that way with his ghouls in a half-glamoured state, but the way they look at him at this moment makes his stomach burn too deliciously. 

Aether starts to suck, hollowing out his cheeks to take him base to tip, over and over. Snaking his hand into Dew’s hair to press him right into Copia’s taint.

“C’mon, Papa, we’ve got you,” Aether slurs around his tip. Dew moans his agreement, vibrations from his voice causing his thighs to jump. “Just let go.”

please consider reblogging ♡

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Under Cotton and Calicoes

Pairing: Osferth (The Last Kingdom) x f!reader Warnings: Orgasm control, outdoor sex, smut. Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: In the space between darkness and light, her and Osferth discover the freedom to be exactly as they are.

Author's note: Day eight of the Smuffmas prompts - "sunrise and orgasm control". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She climbs the grassy embankment, picking each step carefully in the darkness. The dew drops that cover the soft surface dampen the bottom of her skirt, but she finds the coolness of it against her bare ankles refreshing.

This is her favourite time of day, the hours that linger between darkness and light, when the sky hovers over the horizon with muted hues of blush pink and lilac. She often finds herself in this spot, looking out over Wintanceaster as it still sleeps, her mind flooded with all she had hoped for when she had first arrived here, and all that this place has stolen away from her since.

When she had left her father’s small farmstead she had been in search of freedom, an escape from the mundane. Wintanceaster had seemed lively and exciting, full of opportunity, though she swiftly learned that this only applies if you are a man.

She had taken a job at the alehouse to begin with. She is not quite sure how she ended up in the employment of the local brothel, a temporary arrangement for additional coin that had somehow become permanent. She cannot deny that the money she stashes away now is a larger sum than what she had earned serving flagons of ale and bowls of stew, however, with every man that molds their flesh to hers she cannot help but feel she has simply escaped one entrapment to fall into another; the scenery has changed, yet the shackles remain the same. Once the money beneath her pillow reaches a sufficient quantity, she will leave this place. For now, she is resigned to looking upon it in the cold light of dawn.

In the empty space she occupies in the twilight hours, she is not the daughter of a farmer, she is not a whore, she is simply her, free to think on her dreams as the sky lightens and the day begins anew.

Her head turns, the rustle of footsteps alerting her to a presence beside her.

“Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to startle you. I thought I was alone.”

She recognises him. A holy man that has accompanied the warriors that travelled here a few days prior. Though his piety is not without question, when she considers the two visits he has made to her place of employment since arriving here. The two women he had laid with had fought viciously over him.

“Hmm,” she smiles softly, “I thought I was alone too.”

He swallows thickly, blue eyes averting their gaze as he clasps his hands behind his back. “If you’d prefer to be alone, I can always–”

Ordinarily, she would balk at the idea of being alone in the darkness with a strange man, but she feels perfectly safe in the gentle presence of this one. He means her no harm.

“Stay,” she interjects, “there is room enough for two. You are Osferth?”

He nods and enquires after her name, bowing slightly as she tells him. The formality of the gesture almost makes her want to laugh.

“I see that sleep evades you too, my lady,” he says, moving to stand beside her, cocking his head as he glances sideways at her.

“It often does,” she sighs, looking out at the horizon. “But I prefer this time of day. It is freeing to not feel obligated, to simply–”

“Be yourself?” He finishes for her, with a raise of his eyebrow.

“So you understand. Is that why you do not sleep either?”

���I understand more than I’d care to admit,” he tells her, scraping his boot against the ground, an obvious gesture of discomfort.

“But you travel in the company of Uhtred of Bebbanburg, what could you possibly have to escape from? Heroism?”

She chuckles drily, causing him to frown as he bows his head, pursing his lips tightly.

“I am a bastard,” he states simply.

“No shame in being a bastard,” she says with a shrug.

“So I am told, but I am nothing more until I prove otherwise. King Alfred’s bastard, the baby monk, I have to fight every day to be seen as more. All I want to be is…Osferth. Simply Osferth.”

She softens, turning towards him, eyes half lidded in sympathetic understanding. “I doubt it provides any comfort, but to me you are simply Osferth.”

“It provides more comfort than you could possibly understand, my lady,” he admits quietly, large eyes staring into hers.

She studies his features silently, the sharp jut of his jaw, his high cheekbones, the straightness of his nose. He is beautiful when the time is taken to really study him, and without thinking her hand reaches up, fingers tracing the outline of his features.

He steps back quickly, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “I have no silver to pay you.”

Her hand drops back to her side as she feels her skin grow hot with embarrassment. “How silly of me to think you could actually understand,” she says bitterly, looking away.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he tells her, his tone pleading as he steps towards her once more.

She shakes her head. “You have not. It is foolish of me to think I could ever be seen as anything more than a whore.”

Osferth’s brow furrows, and he grasps her hand in his. The touch of his flesh against hers feels as though she has been branded, yet she does not jerk away.

“You are so much more.”

“You do not know me.”

“I would like to.”

She looks up at him, taken aback by how impossibly close he is to her, his breath fans across her face as his gaze locks with hers.

“Why?” She whispers.

“There is a reason I did not choose you over those other women,” he says earnestly. “You are beautiful, my lady, worth more than any payment I could possibly give.”

“Then I shall not accept your payment,” she breathes, leaning up to press her lips to his.

He responds in kind, leaning down, and the hand not holding hers reaches up to cup her cheek, his large palm enveloping her skin in its warmth. His lips are soft, yet his kiss is firm and tender. She savours the intimacy of it, sighing softly as her body relaxes against his.

“Are you sure you wish to do this?” He utters, as they reluctantly draw back, foreheads pressed together.

Her pulse races, her core throbbing with need, surrounded by his earthy scent and the heat that radiates off of him. She has never been more certain of anything in her life.

She captures his lips with hers once more in silent answer, and his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her tighter against him.

As they drop to their knees, she pushes him back by the shoulder, shifting to straddle him. Their hands are almost frenzied, their breaths coming in hurried puffs, in their rush to push up her skirt and his robe, before he tugs down his trousers and breeches enough to free himself.

It is only then that they slow the pace. His head falls back against the damp grass as she takes him in her hand, a quiet groan escaping him as she rubs the tip of his hardened cock through her rapidly gathering slick. Sliding herself against it, she repeats the motion, back and forth, preparing herself to take him inside.

His hands disappear beneath her dress, fingers indenting into her hips as he whimpers quietly. “Please, my lady, I will not last if you keep this up.”

She giggles, raising up to guide him to her opening. “Patience, sweet Osferth.”

They both sigh in relief as she sinks down upon him, the length of him stretching her in a way that guides the head of him to brush against a patch inside of her that steals her breath away.

The pace she sets is unhurried, slowly rocking herself atop him, revelling in the exquisite torture of having him touch upon that particular place over and over. If ever she were to experience what it is to be worshipped then this surely must be it. His hold on her hips is almost bruising, made all the more divine when juxtaposed with the reverence of his gaze as he looks up at her, brows pinched together and jaw slack.

She moans, head tipping back as she allows her movements to become faster and more determined. In her peripheral vision she sees the first golden rays of morning breaching the inky blackness of the sky.

Osferth pulsates inside of her, his breathing now reduced to ragged pants. “Oh, please, I’m going to–”

“Not yet,” she whispers, slowing her pace, working her way towards the pinnacle of the ever tightening knot in her gut. “With me.”

His fingertips press tighter into the meat of her, his eyes screwing shut. She brings herself down upon him once, twice, three times more, chasing the sensation that’s about to crest over her, until she finally lets go, closing her eyes and tightening around him with a pleasured cry.

He grunts, bucking upwards, holding her against him as she feels him twitch, spilling himself inside of her. As she catches her breath, eyes blinking open, the dull orange of the sun has chased away the darkness almost entirely, its faint hues slowly lightening the surrounding fields and expanse of the town below them. 

For once, she exists exactly as she is outside the cover of twilight hours, and it gives her hope.

Osferth pulls himself to sit up, keeping himself buried inside of her as she remains in his lap, and they wrap their arms around each other.

“When I return, I will find you,” he whispers.

“Perhaps by then I will finally be free to live as I please.”

“I would like that for both of us,” he replies.

But for now, they will always have this moment, kept immortal in the quiet of dawn.