#Homelander’s disturbing past

[deliciouskeys]

How about I list a couple of pieces of lore from episode 4 that I really liked: (aka hc-confirmed!euphoria)

- The fact that Homelander has a very negative reaction to being called John (yes, maybe it’s only down there in B6 and those particular Odessa Project staff but it confirms at least mixed feelings about the name being used).

- The fact that he confirms he feels pain, at least when being exposed to extremely painful stimuli

[hom3landr]

Pain au Chocolat

Bakerverse

18+

Much to Homelander’s surprise, a sleepy morning proves that maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye

CW: mild somnophilia, Stormfront

Homelander’s eyes blink open lazily. Your room is still dark and the glint of orange he’d normally spy on the horizon is hidden by clouds. The bed is toasty from shared heat but the air outside the soft blankets is nippy. The storm is through but Homelander can hear the soft pattering of drizzle against the window. Homelander contemplates rising for a moment but instead he snuggles deeper under the covers and wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer. You make a soft noise in your sleep but otherwise you don’t stir. He gives a tiny squeeze just for good measure. He likes feeling the soft give of you against him.

It had been a true terror of a storm the night before. The lightning split the sky like holy fire and he, god that he was, felt truly divine as he flew through the maze of bolts. He knew exactly where he’d find you when he arrived, waiting for him at your kitchen window. The same way you have for every bad storm that disturbs your peace. You wait for him and he wraps the two of you in blankets while he holds you through your panic. Storms are not as satisfying to watch indoors but he’ll sacrifice the view for the chance to hold you close. He’s willing to indulge in your quirks even if he still thinks you’re being ridiculous.

You hadn’t asked him to stay during storms and ordinarily he wouldn’t because why should he have to? But it feels right to care for you and be your hero. He wants to be your hero so badly.

You’d fallen asleep on him on the couch like you always do. He carried you to your bed like he always does. He slid in after you in the sweatpants you always let him borrow. It didn’t take long for him to follow you into dreams because it never does.

He doesn’t have nightmares when he sleeps with you. Your apartment smells nothing like the tower. It smells like sugar and old brick, earthy and sweet. He can close his eyes and all the worries of Vought just slip from his mind like water off a stone. He could take you to his penthouse when it storms. You wouldn’t even have to commute in the rain. But there’s something sacred about you willingly allowing him in your space. So he comes to you instead. It’s his only break from all the noise in his head. It’s the only time the past doesn’t hang over him like a dark shadow.

You also seem to rest better when he’s here. No more anxious baking into the wee hours of the morning, you practically become Sleeping Beauty the moment he lets you lay against him. You still feel safe with him despite everything…or maybe you’re just stupid.

He likes to think it’s because you’re in love.

He watches you sleep. You look so peaceful and serene in his arms. He nuzzles in close and presses featherlight kisses to your temple. You hum in your sleep but you remain deep in dreams. His hands travel up your sides. His thumb barely brushes against the undersides of your breasts and he’s suddenly extremely aware of the morning wood currently tenting his pants. It’s a lot harder to hide his boners from you when he doesn’t have his cup. But at the moment you’re sound asleep so he indulges himself with a slow grind against your ass. Subconsciously you must be aware of what he’s doing because your hips push back into his even though you don’t wake. His hands roam back down so he can grip your hips and roll them into a rhythm that makes his eyes roll back in his head. He resumes his kisses.

BEEPBEEPBEEP

He growls at the sudden tinny jingle that cuts through the peace, eyes glowing briefly as he barely restrains himself from lasering your phone in half. You groan loudly and blindly swipe around until you grab your phone from the bedside table. You hit the snooze button and ungraciously drop the phone onto the bed beside you. Homelander shifts away subtly, hoping to hide the way he was using you. You bury your face fully in your pillow with a huff and Homelander breathes a sigh of relief that you don’t notice. He rubs your back with a chuckle, ignoring the angry throb of his cock.

“Wakey wakey!” He practically sings to you and you grumpily mumble something unintelligible into the pillow. He loves how much you hate mornings. He’s addicted to these new edges you’ve begun to reveal ever since the fiasco where he tried to take you flying. It’s like there was an invisible wall between you he wasn’t aware of. He remembers how hard you fought in the air. He can respect it now in a way he was unable to then.

You’re practically scrappy.

You don’t make any attempt to move so he chuckles and grabs your hips to flip you like a pancake. You glare at him and your nose scrunches just the tiniest bit. He barely resists the urge to kiss it. He has to try even harder not to kiss your pout.

“I’m not going in. I’m sick.” You cough pathetically and he rolls his eyes. Fat chance he’s going to let you out of work with such a pathetic excuse. He knows you know that he knows you’re perfectly healthy.

“You’re sick?” He hums with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t even know if I have the strength to get out of bed.” You whine. You try to sit up only to collapse pathetically back into the pillows with a sigh and a bat of your eyelashes.

His cock twitches.

He leans over you and presses a firm lingering kiss to your forehead. You jolt and the warm fragrant heat that floods your veins makes him groan. Still so easy to fluster even with all your newfound cheekiness.

“You don’t feel like you’re running a fever.” He replies cockily against your temple. You huff and cross your arms. He’s deeply amused by your petulant act and getting a rare deep sleep has him feeling lazy and mischievous. He shifts to whisper in your ear. “Of course…there’s another place I can use to check your temperature.”

He gives your ass a quick pinch and you shriek as he erupts into laughter.

“That’s not necessary!” You squeak shyly, feathers all ruffled.

Your scandalized gaze isn’t enough to hide from him how excited you got by the suggestion. Maybe that’s something worth circling back around to. His amused giggles taper off as he looks at you fondly.

“If I’m going in then you have to as well. I need you there with me.” His voice softens as he reaches out to cup your cheek. He relishes the heat of you against his bare palm. Your eyes widen at his sincere confession and his vulnerability disarms your previous huffy playfulness. He can hear your heartbeat speed up as you nuzzle into his touch. Briefly an image of him snuggling into Madelyn’s dishonest touch flickers through his mind and he hastily discards it before the turning of his stomach ruins his good mood. He inhales deeply and the scent of you chases her ghost away.

“You need me?” You reply quietly, gazing at him softly as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Always.” He answers, voice tender. The air crackles with charged energy that’s far from the lighthearted teasing only moments earlier. There’s an unspoken shift in the air as your gaze dips to his lips. He swallows thickly and leans in slightly.

“I guess it would be cruel of me to stay home then.” You whisper.

“I don’t think I could handle it.” He replies with a whisper to match yours.

You hum before shifting to press a sweet tentative kiss to his lips. He groans lowly and his hand on your cheek moves to grip the back of your neck, holding you steady while he deepens the kiss instantly. In the cozy haze of the morning he forgets to behave and keep his kisses gentlemanly. You genuinely surprise him by meeting him with equal passion, slinging one arm around his shoulder and pressing your body eagerly to his. Your breasts press into his chest and he nips at your bottom lip as his cock twitches under the loose fabric of the sweatpants. It’s impossible to hide the tent in the fabric but you’re too busy kissing him to notice. Your mouth opens easily at the press of his tongue. You react so quickly that it’s almost like you’d been waiting desperately for this very moment. This is the boldest he’s ever been with you and he’s relieved that you are bold in return.

The intensity of his kiss causes you to lay back on the bed. Homelander follows without a hitch, tasting as much of you as he can. He licks into your mouth as he crawls over you. You whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressed into your stomach but before he can put together an apology, you hook one leg around his hip to keep him in place. His cock twitches again and you must feel it because you let out a moan that he quickly swallows. The scent of your desire is so thick and heady that it makes him lightheaded. He trails a hand under your oversized sleep t-shirt to grip your hip as he grinds into you. It’s happening so fast that the disciplined part of him doesn’t even have time to react. Besides, you initiated. You want this. He is being good. It’s not his fault that you kissed him while he was half unclothed in the haven of your bed.

Your hand tentatively travels down his chest, scratching lightly at the hair there. He huffs at the tickle of it and when your thumb brushes his hard nipple he shudders. You pause and he can practically hear the gears turn into your head. Your caresses are just as light and careful as he imagined as you intentionally run your thumb over his nipple. He bucks into the soft swell of your stomach.

He shifts only slightly but it’s enough for him to slot a thigh between your legs. You gasp brokenly and your body goes still for a moment. He pauses his kisses, concerned now that he pushed it too far. But before his concern can evolve into anxiety, you slowly start to grind against him. Your breathy little pants make him throb as he watches you establish a rhythm. He uses the hand on your hip to guide you, wanting to feel helpful in your pursuit of pleasure. He can feel the wet heat of you plastering his sweatpants to his thigh. You’re drenched and the brown sugar scent of you has him slavering like a hungry wolf. He nips at your neck where he can hear your pulse beating loudly, intoxicated by the way he can feel the flutter of it against his lips

You sigh his name sweetly and something inside him snaps. He breaks the kiss only to bury his face in the crook of your neck as he shudders and makes a mess of his borrowed sweatpants. His hips roll lewdly against you as he rides out his orgasm. Your hand buries in his hair as you press heated kisses against his temple. A combination of satisfied pleasure and intense embarrassment from blowing his load like a teen boy jacking it to porn for the first time floods his body and he mewls softly into your skin. You lightly pet his hair while he shivers

He can already feel the flustered apology on the tip of his tongue but before he can verbalize his shame, your snooze alarm goes off again. He growls and rolls off of you, secretly grateful to avoid the opportunity to address his mess. He gathers the sheets around his waist so you don’t see the dark stain on the front of his pants. Although he wouldn’t mind you seeing the wet spot you left on his thigh. You don’t show any sign you noticed him come just from a little dry humping. You’re too busy angrily poking at your phone as you turn off the alarm. His exhausted cock aches at the way your lips have swelled from his kisses. Your nipples are poking at the thin material of your sleep shirt. He can feel himself already hardening, eager for another round. He shimmies off his sticky sweatpants under the covers and kicks them to the floor. His eagerness is dampened as you climb out of bed.

“You should call in sick and stay with me.” He calls out after you as you start to shuffle through the clothes in your closet. It fills him with a not insignificant amount of pride at the shakiness of your legs, all wobbly like a baby deer. You scoff lightly but there’s no bravado to it. You seem a little bit shell shocked from having your pleasure interrupted so rudely. He wants to push you against the wall and finger you till you’re screaming to balance out the tables a little bit. Now that he’s seen what you look like all flustered and aroused from grinding like a teenager in the back of a car, he just knows you’ll be pretty as a picture when you come.

“I can’t. I’m not running a temperature.” You turn around to grin at him, cheeks still flaming as you peek shyly through your lashes. With how eagerly you pounced on him and rode his thigh, he’s beginning to wonder if your nervous disposition was related to sex at all. Maybe you are just shy. He isn’t sure but he’s excited to find out.

Not right now though.

He can’t take off so easily, not with a grand total of three tv ads he’s contracted to film today along with his normal meeting with The Seven and an appointment with Ashley about the new ads for his campaign. You have to go in earlier than him but he can’t lay around forever. So he reluctantly doesn’t push you to stay although he does take a quick peek when you leave to change (and to rinse off the sloppy mess of arousal between your legs) He only looks long enough for a glimpse. He’s not some pervert.

You emerge dressed in the way he’s used to, sensible shoes, nice dress pants, and a pretty white blouse. You look put together and professional. It’s a far cry from the person who writhed and moaned against him.

“I need to head out but you’re free to stay as long as you want. There’s some pain au chocolat in a covered bowl by the fridge if you want some breakfast.” You tell him breezily although you still fluster when you meet his gaze.

“Can you tell me that in American?” He asks with a relaxed drawl. You roll your eyes but your expression is deeply fond.

“There are some chocolate croissants in a bowl by the fridge. Help yourself.” You reply with a smirk. You pause, sheepish. “Also I’m going to the laundromat after work so if you…need anything washed, just drop it in the hamper over there.”

You scamper over to press a quick chaste kiss to his forehead. He hums at the brush of your lips.

“Bye!” You bid him farewell before scurrying out the door and down the long stairs to the ground floor.

Homelander stretches and reclines back on the pillows. He feels unfulfilled despite his powerful orgasm. You hadn’t come at all and then you just raced off. Sure, you did have a good reason but he had wanted to take his time with you. He’d planned for ages how he wanted to take you for the first time but this surprise makeout session has his plans all discombobulated. He still hasn’t fully processed what happened. He looks down at the dirty sweatpants on the floor.

“If you…need anything washed”

Homelander groans. You did know.

Fuck

Aw well, he reaches down to stroke his cock that has filled out once again. He still has enough time to rub out another quickie. He’s going to more than make up for his indiscretion. You won’t even know what hit you.

————————————————————

Homelander is still dripping from the downpour outside on his flight back to the tower. He took too long entertaining himself with a pair of your underwear so now he doesn’t have time to run back to his penthouse for a dry suit. Luckily, you’re waiting in the conference room as always, humming to yourself as you prep for the meeting. The pleasant scent of you tickles his nose and reminds him again of this morning’s events

You haven’t noticed him yet as you busy yourself with your tasks. Although he can tell by the faint furrow of your brow that you’re keenly aware of his absence. He grins and silently follows behind you like a cat. You remain so adorably oblivious when you look pensievely towards the doorway, unaware that he’s already on your trail. He’s tempted to reach out and cheekily pinch your ass but he doesn’t want to risk giving you a heart attack. Instead, he waits until you’ve slid the last packet in place to grab your waist and spin you against the window. You gasp as he leans in close, boxing you in with one arm perched casually against the glass. You blink owlishly up at him in surprise and he can see your fluttering pulse beat against your skin.

“You’re all wet” is the first thing you manage to stammer through your shock and he grins.

“You’re observant today. I guess I didn’t kiss all the sense out of you” He replies and you give a little huff at his teasing as you hit his chest with an ineffectual slap. He’s so close that the lingering rain on his suit is starting to soak through your white blouse and his stomach flips when he can spy a hint of lace through the fabric. You rest your hands on his chest but don’t make any attempt to push him back.

“Are you cold?” You reach up to brush a dripping strand of hair out of his eyes. He shivers pleasantly at the gentle touch but you seem to interpret it as evidence of a chill. He places a hand on your waist to further box you in against him and your whole body erupts with heat as the blood rushes through your veins. He’s never this bold with you in public but a barrier has been broken. It’s time to be more forward with you.

“I’m freezing, I need someone to warm me up.” He purrs. It’s like you’ve suddenly become aware of how close he’s standing because you drop your gaze shyly. His cock gives a needy throb when he sees the barest shadow of your nipples beginning to stiffen in your bra. All he wants is to settle his warm mouth over them and suck. You’d squirm and pant against him. His tongue flicks against his teeth as he imagines making you come just by teasing your nipples until you can’t stand it anymore.

You sneak a peek up at him through your lashes and he squeezes your waist gently. You open your mouth to respond when…

“Are you two just going to stand there spraying your pheromones all over the conference room or can we get this meeting started?”

Homelander grits his teeth and the bane of his existence waltzes through the door. You startle and this time your hands on his chest do attempt to create some distance at being caught in such a compromising position. He lets you go as he fixes Stormfront with a nasty glare. He’s frustrated with himself for not noticing her as she approached but your fucking nipples were hard so it was difficult to pay attention to anything else. You awkwardly cross your arms over your chest when Stormfront sneers at the sight of your now see-through shirt.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job?” She remarks coldly. You bite your tongue hard and Homelander catches a whiff of blood when you open your mouth to reply.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be going right away.” The warmth from his proximity has faded and you shiver shamefully in the crisp air of the conference room.

“And put on a jacket, this isn’t a wet t-shirt contest.” She replies and Homelander hates the scent of salt in the air as you tear up in frustrated embarrassment. He wants to step in and defend you but unfortunately you scurry out of the room fuming without even meeting his eyes.

He can feel them start to sizzle.

“Who the fuck pissed in your cheerios this morning?” He snaps at her. The knowledge that the rest of the team is coming is the only thing keeping him from more firm measures of retaliation… Such as popping her head like a ripe melon. He grumpily takes a seat in his chair and taps his fingers against the table to try and calm his nerves.

Much to his annoyance, Stormfront takes the seat directly next to him. She strategically waits until the rest of the team begins to file in before she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I never took you as the type to fraternize with the help.” She states frankly and his hackles raise at her insinuation. He doesn’t like being reminded that you’re ultimately just a PA. When he’s with you, it’s so easy to forget how little you matter in the grand scheme of things. His pride rankles and his skin prickles uncomfortably.

“I wasn’t fraternizing. You’re taking things out of context.” He harshly whispers back. He’s not quite sure what that imaginary context could be. He did have you pressed sensually against the wall while you gazed at him with fuck-me eyes and hard nipples.

“Listen, I don’t care who you fuck but if you’re going to slum it then you need to be a little more discreet.” Her tone is dismissive.

Homelander’s ears start to ring.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He hisses. She knows nothing. She knows nothing about you. Who cares if you're nobody. It means you’re all for him.

“I’m someone who’s trying to give you advice. Get some standards.” She replies.

Homelander stands straight up, eyes burning, teeth bared, and the other members of The Seven meet each other’s gaze nervously. Stormfront just stares back with that infuriatingly smug smirk. He clenches his fists as he imagines how pretty her blood would look painting the conference room. He wants to laser right through her skull, roast her until she’s nothing more than a charred fucking husk. His eyes flare brighter. Then he remembers Edgar. He knows the kind of trouble he’ll be in if he indulges his urges. He shouldn’t care but he fucking does and it’s that which protects Stormfront. But he won’t be so lenient in the future if she keeps talking about you like you’re less.

“Meeting’s over!” He growls before stalking out of the room, steam practically billowing out of his ears. He can hear the confused murmurs of the team but he can’t be fucked to pay attention.

He’ll never give you up. You belong to him, especially now. He’s certainly not less because he’s… His thoughts stutter to a stop. He realizes that he has no clue what the two of you are. You’re not dating yet he sleeps in your bed and kisses you stupid. Things had evolved so naturally that he can’t even pinpoint the exact moment the relationship became more.

He needs to make this official, he decides. It’s time to make sure you’re really his. No more slumming it. He’ll show you off with fucking pride. You’ll love it. You’ll love him.

You’ll never be a nobody again.

[devilander]

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead. 

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night. 

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain. 

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you. 

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it. 

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings. 

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet. 

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you. 

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.” 

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you. 

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion. 

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist. 

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank. 

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth. 

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you. 

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Eternally Elusive

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: A pestering passerby drags up an unexpected guest that almost blows your cover.

Read pt. 1 of Eternally Elusive - HERE

Read pt. 7 - HERE (currently wip)

Warnings: Harassment, injury.

In your pain riddled haste, you hadn’t realized how worked up you had made Azriel’s shadow. It seemed to be fretting at any slip up in fear of you damaging your already broken wing, it’s movement jagged and sharp as it circled you. But alas, you paid it no heed- couldn’t as you stumbled your way over the border and onto Dawn Court soil in the most pain you’ve been in since you’d left your homeland. The feeling buzzed in your head, and you just knew that you’d be in pain for months just waiting for this to heal up, but that’s only if you get the proper care for it, which you were certainly not.

Even being courts apart, Rhys still seemed to find a way to make your life difficult.

You wondered idly if he knew how badly his slip up had fucked you over as you splinted your injury, enchanting the wooden block to stay in place with a wave of your hand. Your wing still throbbed, the pain thrumming through you like a steady stream. It was the slightest bit more bearable with the splint in place, the appendage no longer visibly deformed, and it put you at ease to see it no longer sticking at an odd angle.

The glamour you held over yourself swallowed you like a comforting blanket, the weight of it putting you at ease as you looked out on the bustling streets of the Dawn Court. The last thing you needed right now was someone noticing who you were, the whispers would no doubt make their way back to the inner circle and you didn’t need another guest appearance as of right now. You dragged a hand down your face, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that had built up along your trek into town.

A brush along your wing had you jumping and scrambling to recoil away from the touch. Your head whipped around, swiveling frantically in search of the source. Your eyes landed on a short, brunette fae. His eyes were a piercing gold, shimmering in the setting sun. You’d almost say they were beautiful if they hadn’t been holding a tinge of disgust, staring at you as if he was floored by your very presence. Azriel’s shadow stilled when you locked eyes with him, the darkness settling at your side.

It's slight coolness as it brushed against you offered you some solace from your peaked anxiety as you stared at the fae. “An Illyrian?” He scoffed, looking down on your form perched on a wooden bench. His upper lip curled into a scowl as his eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here.” He sneered. Your eyes darted around, a few people nearby eyed you both, a few previous strollers slowing down to watch the interaction. Your pulse spiked, and the fae seemed to pick up on it as he huffed a snort. “Are you a spy? Come to feed information back to your whore of a High Lord?”

The comment hit you like a brick to the face, the insult causing a slice of hurt to bloom in your chest despite your current status with said male. Your features downturned, a kaleidoscope of memories flooding into you from Under the Mountain- both yours and his. You didn’t have time to fully react to anything the fae had said- to what your body had forced you to remember.

A sharp, commanding voice sounded from behind the Dawn Court native, and he bristled at the sound, a visible tremor running through him. “Are we now in the business of disturbing travelers?”

You watched as the golden eyed fae slowly turned around, almost as if he were dreading what he would see. He moved to the side, and your eyes landed on a black haired woman, the girl coated in glittering armor from head to toe. The Dawn Court insignia sat proud on her chest plate, her dark hair sprawling well past the emblem and stopping just before her waist. She held the same shimmering golden eyes as the male- but these were sharper somehow, and they seemed to swirl with power. White wings stood proud behind her, so big that the ivory feathers brushed the ground where she stood.

A Peregryn, you realized.

A member of the elite aerial legion the Dawn Court proudly harbored. You were stunned, as were most passerby at her presence, only attracting more attention to your already uncomfortable situation. Her eyes landed on you, and they widened slightly in recognition.

It dawned on you in that second, and you stiffened into an immovable force.

Glamour didn’t work on Peregryns.

You stared at each other wide eyed, a silent acknowledgement of what was taking place. A runaway monarch- and a soldier of another court. She had all the power here- a cruel switch that was bound to be flipped at some point; you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. She could report this back to Thesan, have you sent back without so much as a thought. Azriels shadow circled you, and you waited with bated breath to see what she’d do.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Her eyes fell back onto the brown-haired male still staring at her in thinly veiled horror. “Get moving.” She said coldly, jerking her head in the direction of another bustling street. The male sputtered for a second, eyes darting back to you before stuttering out a “yes, ma’am.” You watched him disappear into the crowd of people making their way down the busy street, the few people that had stopped to watch the interaction dispersing with him.

Your eyes fell back on the woman, the Peregryn now making her way towards you as if she were on a mission. The look in her eyes had you leaping to your feet, hopping off the bench as if the wooden structure had scorched you through your clothes. You got up in time to meet her face to face, her golden armor glinting in the setting sun.

You swallowed thickly, your pulse racing as you locked eyes. Her face seemed to hold a certain kind of awe you’d compare to a child receiving a new toy. Her eyes slipped over to your injured wing, the glance lingering for a second longer than you’d anticipated before it flickered back to your face. The fae bristled, a realization seeming to dawn on her as she floundered. “M-my Lady.” Her legs bent to steep into a kneel, and your heart rate spiked so violently the Peregryn flinched, your arm shooting out to stop her from completing her bow. Your nails dug into her armor, creating a soft creaking noise as your voice fought its way out of you. Commanding. Desperate. Almost a plea as you spoke.

“Don’t.” You said lowly, eyes darting around as she slowly eased out of her half completed kneel. She managed to take in your frantic movements in her confused state, eyes searching the streets in hopes no one had saw what she had just attempted to do. A fae with light brown hair seemed to eye you as she walked by, and that was all it took to have you hauling the Peregryn into a nearby ally.

“Are you trying to get me in shit!?” You hissed, casting a glance to the street you were just standing in, the shadows of the ally helping you to remain hidden. “No- no, my lad-“ You cut her off. “Don’t call me that, I’m not Your Lady.” You let go of her armor, confusion staining the woman’s face, only becoming more saturated with each passing second. “I may serve the Dawn Court, but I was born of the Night, you are as much My Lady as Thesan is My Lord.” Your eyes darted to her dark sprawling locks, and it clicked for you. She may have been a Peregryn, that much was obvious, but she held prominent features of the Night Court.

It was possible, much like your own lineage. A union between a Peregryn and a member of the Night Court. You saw it. A reflection of yourself stared back, the pride that swirled in her eyes when she talked about her heritage. You remember being like that, once. So proud of being from both the Winter, and the Night Court.

It was long gone though, that pride.

One of those homes was ripped away from you.

You hope she doesn’t suffer the same fate.

“I’m glamoured right now.” You said, tone much softer. A crease formed between her brows, face falling. “Oh.” She paused, looking you over before she spoke again. “I thought you were here for the Fall Solstice.”

That’s right. The Solstice.

Where the three Solar Courts came together in celebration. Where the day and night fall together in equal harmony, each as long as the other. You had completely forgotten in your haste to make it back to Winter. Your mouth fell open, eyebrows raising as an expression of surprise overtook your features. It was clear Rhys wouldn’t be attending any festivals after Under the Mountain, and now with you missing, you’d be surprised if he left the house. Especially with… her to attend to.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” She asked. Your eyes fell back on her. She really didn’t know? Did Rhys not alert the other Courts to your disappearance? Or is it just so early he didn’t have a chance yet? You swallowed nervously, wringing your hands together anxiously. “Well, since you’re in town you’re still welcome to come.” The Peregryn said softly, sensing your unease. “Pardon my bluntness, but you don’t look to be feeling too well, you should get some rest. I should probably get back to my post regardless.”

You realized just how long you’d been standing in the ally, and you nodded your head in acknowledgement. She inclined her head slightly, almost a bow but casual enough to be brushed off. “It was an honor.” She said sincerely, turning to make her way out of the overhang. You watched her exit the ally, ivory wings brushing the ground as they followed behind her.

Hauling yourself up the stairs of the inn, you used the wall to support most of your weight. Azriels shadow was swirling around you, fretting as it always did when you were in a less than favorable state. The groan you let out when you reached the top was almost guttural, and you had to muster up the very last bit of your energy reserves to scuffle the last bit to your room.

You fiddled around with the key, leaning your forehead against the door and attempted not to wince as your arm knocked into your wing. Getting the key into the lock was an accomplishment in itself, and you pushed the door open, ready to clean yourself up and have a short nap. The door swung open, and you threw the key onto the dresser on your right side, swinging the door closed behind you.

The door swung closed, revealing the bed and a battered Azriel sitting atop it.

[myeagleexpert]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗

And if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Howl's Moving Castle x Twisted Wonderland Au

The starry night at NRC was a spectacle of beauty and mystery, with the meteor shower painting the sky in shades of silver and gold. Yuu walked through the dark corridors of the Ramshackle dormitory, lit only by the flickering light of candles and a few points of failed electric light. Grim, the talking cat monster with dancing fire flames, followed beside her silently, his yellow eyes glowing with an unusual intensity and worried for his friend.

Today had been one of those days for the young woman without magic: Waking up late and almost late, she was intercepted by Crowley who had given exhaustive work that he himself had not done, the chemistry test that she and the infamous ADeuce had was a disaster, her crush had given the cold shoulder, Grim got into a totally unnecessary fight with some idiots from the fourth year and as a result they lost their lunch and got some scratches, and the front of his beloved Ramsharckle dorm collapsed, the damp and old wood had given way. The bitter taste in the mouth was not enough to bring a revolt from within Yuu so that she raised a scream of fury and stepped on the floor, her tired body just looked at the mess and walked straight past, the dejected soul took a shower where she hoped for the deep in her fragile heart, the shampoo would clean the dirt she felt and the tears would mix with the hot water.

At least I Tsunotaro will come today.- the only hope she could have that night was to see her dear friend. She put on her less tattered pajamas and sat at the study table waiting for the famous green fireflies to appear.

Unfortunately he didn't show up, the prince didn't answer the call.

The lack of Malleus's gentle presence made schoolwork become heavier and the lump in the throat tightened more and more, the clock was counting down the seconds to….

“Henchman, are you okay? Your eyes are red” with the little self-control he had, Yuu nodded, avoiding his feline friend's gaze and focusing on the blurry letters of school work and just in time the light in the dorm was cut off.

“NYAAH” “It was just what was needed!” Could it be Crowley's irresponsibility? The electricity bill? Was it an attack? A short circuit? Either way, it doesn't matter anymore.

The tired body got up and silently searched for the candles until strange lights passing through the window caught the girl's attention. Ah, the meteor shower. Like a leaf carried by the wind, Yuu's steps, even without hope, led her to the front part of the ramsharckle, the same part of which fell and collapsed. Pushing aside some wood, the girl sat down on the floor and Grim followed her shortly after, not trusting that her friend would be okay alone.

“Henchman, what are we doing here?” "I don't know…"

Will I ever really go home? Will I live forever in this place being this weak? I would do anything to see my family again… I myself will find a way to find my way back, whatever the cost.

Loneliness and anguish weighed on Yuu's heart, like chains that tied her to a distant past, an overwhelming longing for her homeland. She longed for a home, for a place where she could be truly happy. Home….my home….my family….The starry night shone with a unique and mysterious beauty, the shooting stars cutting across the sky like tears of light. Each meteorite that fell seemed to echo the loneliness and anguish that Yuu felt inside her.

As she watched the shooting stars cut across the sky like sharp blades, one of them stood out, shining with a disturbing intensity that seemed to whisper Yuu's name as the golden ball of fire quickly fell towards the ground. Without knowing why the girl just followed her heart and with an irresistible impulse, Yuu ran towards the shooting star, her mind filled with a mixture of despair and hope that she didn't know where it came from.

The powerful ball of fire broke apart and reflected various colors and when the star finally fell into her hands. As she held the star in her trembling hands, Yuu felt a wave of magical power envelop her, making her tremble with emotion and fear. A magical energy enveloped her, and in an instant, the star fell apart, disappearing into her body. A warm feeling filled Yuu, and she felt her heart beat faster than ever. The star, now resident in her being, revealed its mysterious and enigmatic personality, whispering ancient secrets and dark promises in her ears and finally a deal was made between the magicless human and the fallen star.

As Yuu absorbed the star's powers, the old Ramshackle dormitory began to shake and transform in sinister and fascinating ways before his eyes. Walls contorted, furniture came to life, and the abandoned place metamorphosed into a lively castle, with sparkling towers and enchanted gardens. The magic of the falling star had awakened the true essence of the place, revealing its hidden beauty.

The animated castle, now filled with the dark aura of the shooting star, rose majestically from the ground, its dark towers rising like sharp claws against the starry sky. The enchanted garden has turned into a maze of thorns and shadows, where unknown creatures lurk in the shadows, watching with glowing, hungry eyes.

“H-henchman! What is happening??"

With an enigmatic smile on her lips, Yuu looked at Grim, whose gaze reflected a mixture of fear and confusion. "Let's go home," she whispered, her voice echoing like a whisper of unknown magic. The cat nodded silently and ran to the girl's shoulders, saving his questions for later, because maybe later Yuu wouldn't be looking like a crazy woman with a flying Ramsharckle.

The old Ramsharckle dorm floated to where the two were and the door opened waiting for the two to climb up to finally grant the previously magicless girl's heart's desire.

“I'll come back to say goodbye later”

Who knows if she would come back who knows if not

She looked back one last time, remembering her adventures with the troublemaking cat and all the friends she made there. And with a firm step the girl went up in her castle and felt more ready than ever to embark on this adventure.

As the castle floated toward the distant horizon, the lights of shooting stars and meteorites hovered above them, shrouding them in a veil of mystery and intrigue. Yuu felt a shiver run down his spine, but also a sense of determination and courage that had long been forgotten.

And so, enveloped by the darkness of the starry night and the sinister magic of the falling star, Yuu and Grim set out on a journey into the unknown, where ancient secrets and intertwined destinies awaited them in the shadows of their path. Amidst the darkness and starlight, Yuu and Grim's journey was just beginning, with the power of the shooting star guiding their steps towards their final destination.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

[str8rat]

ISAT / FEAR & HUNGER AU

The Universe - A cruel and ancient deity, the Universe is the force that shaped everything we know, setting the world into motion and allowing it to evolve on it's own for eons. Yet, it wasn’t until the rise of humanity that the Universe seemed to truly take notice, manifesting it's presence with a disturbing awareness. With the advent of human language and consciousness, the Universe began to revel in their struggles, delighting in the hardships it inflicted. It watches as they either endure and grow stronger or succumb to suffering and death. The Universe is a merciless god. Often, The Universe is referred to as 'The Stars' of the world, referencing how Siffrin's country used to worship this particular diety.

Through precise rituals, one can attempt to make a wish to the Universe, but those who do so are often met with a cruel twist. The Universe grants wishes like a shattered mirror, reflecting the desires back at the wisher, but distorted and warped. This practice, known as Wish Craft, offers power, but always at a dreadful cost.

Long before humanity existed, the Universe created Craft Energy, a powerful force that shapes reality itself. One of the most significant type of Craft is Time Craft, which governs the flow of time. Another is Wish Craft, which can alter reality but always demands a heavy price.

The Universe also harbors secrets it prefers humans never uncover. Siffrin’s homeland, for reasons unknown, has been completely erased from existence by the Universe. It's language is incomprehensible, causing unbearable headaches and migraines in those who try to understand it. The people of this country have vanished, their existence forgotten by all. Those who managed to escape before the island’s disappearance find themselves bereft of any memory of their past, unable to recall even their names. Any attempt to speak the name of this forgotten land is met with a severe punishment from the Universe—agonizing insanity and, ultimately, death.

The Universe also possesses the power to "Re-write" itself. If anything in the world is linked to the forgotten island or contains any form of error, the Universe corrects it, briefly turning back time to fix what was deemed wrong. In it's cruel and indifferent way, the Universe ensures that the world remains as it wills, with no trace of its mistakes left behind.

[violet-eng]

Kaeya! returns from a long trip and finds fem!bard!reader wearing his clothes at a festival | NSFW 🔞

Someone (@coreakin-sakarat) asked this, and I'm here for this kind of fantasies... just sometimes

Summary: The festivals (Christmas actually) are arriving to Mondstadt, and you (a bard) act like Kaeya in front of the kids. He returns from a journey and finds you wearing his clothes and acting like him (basically flirting), which awake a fantasy he'll definitely do with you.

Warnings: Content +18. Masturbation, fingering, p i v. Relationship established. Outdoor sex.

WC: 2k 🎨 by: @ArtLinXin on X

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Kaeya's departure had affected you deeply. While his absence had not been a source of unhappiness for you before, his absence this time meant a very unexpected change in your intrusion.

Captain Kaeya Alberich had left three weeks ago. Whatever his assignment was, Kaeya was taking up more of his time than usual, and that disturbed your psyche in unfortunate ways. The festivities were approaching at breakneck speed, something had happened last year that caused the days to pass more quickly. The festivities were just around the corner....

Every year, Kaeya had taken time out of his busy schedule to visit the Mondstadt Adventurers' Guild to tell the children about his adventures and answer any questions they might have. This year, however, he was still out of town, far from the villages, busy near the walls of Sumeru.

"Who will take care of the children this year?" Barbara asked, a sharp, desperate tone in her voice.

"I could help," you reassured the young woman.The idea had suddenly occurred to you, in your homeland you were called a buffoon and a clown... in Mondstadt you were called like Venti: a bard, and you were the joy of the children.

You had donned Kaeya's cloak, gloves, and cape, the design draped over your shoulder like a wing, giving you the appearance of the owner of the garments. The need to play his role had consumed you, as it had long ago when you sang songs about the Battle of the Archons or performed some anthology pretending to be a warrior of the past....

You were on the outskirts of Dragonspine, in the camp the Knights of Favonius had set up for the people. Various figures in the snow and amusing sculptures made by the children, bonfires and torches all around, as well as various colorful decorations, all in keeping with the festivities.

You chatted with the children about the adventures Kaeya had told you during the dinners around the fire in your shared home, you acted them out for them as if you were him, you swung your sword and even threw back the cloth of your cloak as Kaeya used to do.

You drank, fuck, you drank as if Kaeya had possessed your soul, and you joked with Diluc as if you were 'brothers'. With some people you even became seductive, charming and flirtatious. You couldn't help it, his personality had taken over you.

"Y/n?"

They called your name, and all your theatrics were destroyed with the mere utterance of your name from HIS lips, with HIS tone of voice....

"Kaeya?" you turned to him, who was analyzing you with crossed arms. He cocked his head and you did the same, he walked towards you, his steps precise and with a certain rhythm, you imitated him.

"It bothers me," he said....

"Does it bother you that I look so attractive with these facades?" you asked, putting your hands on your hips, he just nodded slowly, a ripple of new emotions running down his spine.

"Well, you should see me without them," you whispered, very sure of yourself.

Reality hit you like a bucket of cold water. You had never behaved like that, you were not shameless, you never made advances to your boyfriend, he took care of that in the relationship. Maybe that was why he had taken you by the hand and forced you to walk behind him, away from the festival, away from the people... away from any curious eyes that might be disturbed by the spectacle Kaeya wanted you to give him.

"I didn't think you were so bold," he said as he sank his face into your shoulder, inhaling the mixture of your scent and his, cursed goblet, this formula was driving him crazy.

He had carried you to one of his makeshift campsites and laid you on poorly arranged sheets while his hands slipped under your clothes.

"Mmh~" you sighed and tried to pull away his hands that were under your blouse, massaging your breasts.

"Cat's got your tongue?" he asked, a mischievous smile peeking through his lips, "I'll take this off...it's mine..." he said, taking off your coat.

"Does it bother you that your clothes look better on me than on you?" you blurted out suddenly, your voice calm, your face a clear poem.

"Brat," he whispered, kissing your chin, wet caresses from his lips and tongue, "I have to fuck this nasty behavior away from you."

"Try," fuck, what was wrong with you? Testing him like that wasn't your thing, you had a hard time getting rid of his philosophy.

"I want to hear you say it," he ordered, towering over you as he took off his clothes.

"Say what?" you asked.

"The salute you made," he said as he took off his gloves, the one on his left hand with his teeth.

"Enchantée," you said, mimicking his tone.

"You're so much like me," he let out a soft laugh, "I fucked you so well, so deeply, I literally left some of me in you, huh? Or maybe you missed me so much that you went crazy?"

"Kaeya don't say things like that, someone might hear you," you whispered.

"That's the y/n I know," he said as his hands moved down your hips, pulling your pants down to your ankles.

"Take off your panties, my dear," he said as he undid his boxers, leaving him completely naked.

You did as he commanded, remaining clothed from the top but uncovered from the waist down. Kaeya lay in front of you, propped up on one elbow, like a painting. Tan skin, lean muscles shaping his skin, sculpted torso and abdomen, masculine arms accentuated by his work. One of his legs was bent, the other relaxed, the throbbing member peeking over his thighs.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, and you looked at him, stunned.

"What?" was all that could come out of your mouth."You heard me," he reiterated, his voice firm and thick.

"Cl~ close up the tent tight," you said, the thought of showing off in front of him had dampened your center.

"I won't, I want the moonlight to come in, I want to watch you sink your fingers into you with my clothes on," he said.

You couldn't help it, the thought of him ordering you around, seeing himself exposed in front of you, eager to see you fumble with his own clothes while his cock throbbed in anticipation of your performance to satisfy his fantasy.You propped yourself up on your elbows and spread your knees, your fingers sliding delicately under your belly, tracing your groin and reaching the oasis between your thighs.

"Eyes on me," he said, "eyes on me, all the time."

You couldn't, of course not, you weren't going to masturbate in front of him, looking at his face, that beautiful tanned face framed by blue curls. But you couldn't avoid giving in to your instincts, the shameful desire to feel yourself prey to him.

Without taking your eyes off him, you slipped your fingers between your folds, your fingers immediately soaking in your wetness, the glistening of your juices reflected in the bright moonlight peeking out of the tent where you both surrendered to your most painful fantasies.You parted your folds and captured your throbbing clit with your finger. You shuddered at the contact and let out a barely audible moan.

"I want to hear you," he declared, who had remained motionless, his pose the same, "don't limit yourself."

An embarrassed moan escaped your lips, the movements of your fingers were precise, pressing every fiber of your nervous bulge, tearing at your belly with pleasure, wrenching the most pitiful expressions from your face. The rhythm increased, the sound of your fluids sloshing against your fingers in time with your lustful gasps.Your other hand slipped into your entrance, your fingers penetrating your rubbery walls, the sound of wetness filling Kaeya's ears as he began to take care of his cock.He clenched his member in a fist and slid his hand in time with your fingers, both masturbating in sync.

The red head of his cock sought relief, pre-cum leaking from the tip, Kaeya's muscles tensing from the movement.

"Just like that, pretty," he gasped, the movement of his hand mimicking the rhythm of yours. His other hand in a fist, clutching at nothing, prey to the pleasure he took in seeing you like that, open to him.

"Kaeya~" his name slipped from your lips in an awkward moan, pain turning to pleasure, shame turning to lust.

"Yes y/n, say my name," he added, throwing his head back, his fist clutching his cock as if it was your pussy, beads of sweat running down his forehead and neck. He was desperate, he was losing his mind….

"Ka… Kaeya… please… please," you begged between sobs, moans caught in your throat, your sex throbbing for more than just your fingers.

"Ask me for whatever you want, y/n," he said, sitting down in front of you, closer, never stopping his erotic movement.

"You know what I want," you said, your fingers still in your sex, your hands caressing his.

"I want to hear you," he said, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling, desperate sighs meeting in a desperate dance.

"Please, y/n. I can't help you if you don't tell me clearly," Kaeya added, his chest rising and falling, breath escaping his lips.

Your noses brushed together, your eyes closed, your forehead furrowed… you didn't want to say it, it was embarrassing, but you needed it, you needed it now more than ever.

"Help me cum," you blurted out the sentence without remorse, knowing that he would never deny you an orgasm.

In one quick move, as quick as the situation and your clouded minds allowed, Kaeya took your hand and smothered his cock with it as his fingers slid into your tight hot hole in one deep slice.

"Agh~" you moaned as your walls sucked in his digits, your chin pressed to your chest, your shoulders tense, Kaeya's chin nestled in your neck, the breath of his moans in your ear.

"You missed me," he whispered, the warmth of his tone sending electric waves through your body.

He was right, you had longed for him these past weeks, it was almost sickening the need you had for him, and your body expressed that longing to be penetrated by his long, smooth fingers through volatile spasms.

Your hand didn't close around his thick cock, your fingers weren't long enough to do it, and that enraptured him. Resting his hand on the floor next to your hip, Kaeya leaned further into you, sinking his fingers deeper into your little pussy, parting the digits inside you, widening you for him.

"That… that… feels so… good," your words were a swirl of emotions, soft spasms between the lunges of his fingers.

You clung to him with one arm, digging your nails into his defined back, while your other hand continued its work on his cock, rubbing heavenly.

Your pussy clung even tighter to his fingers, and Kaeya knew what that meant….

"Cum on my fingers, y/n, I need you to come," he said, sounding more like a plea than a command.

"Kaeya~" your nails, marking his flesh under your nails, leaving crimson marks on his skin as he fingered that sensitive spot in your walls. You hadn't had a squirt in months, and this single movement was enough to get one.

Kaeya wrenched a shuddering orgasm from you, you screamed as you seemed to convulse as your volatile walls leaked fluid onto your lover's fingers. He held your head as you climaxed, your hand no longer on his cock, but on his thigh covered in his seed. The scene of you coming had brought him to his limit as well.

The scent of pine needles hung in the air, enveloping Kaeya and you in a cocoon of nature's embrace. Your hearts beat in unison, echoing the rhythmic cadence of your intertwined bodies.

The fire crackled softly outside the tent, casting dancing shadows on the canvas walls. Inside, the dim light illuminated your passion, illuminating the raw, visceral connection between you.

Kaeya stared at your glowing skin, your eyes locked with his as your bodies pressed tightly together.

You felt the heat of his breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"Y/n," he whispered hoarsely, as if evoking a memory, his voice barely audible over the low whisper of the wind outside.

His lips curved into a gentle smile, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your back.

"It feels like we've been apart forever."

He kissed you softly, the taste of your mouth making him even more intoxicated.

His hands roamed your body, feeling every curve and valley, every muscle and sinew. You responded with enthusiasm, your hands exploring his form with equal fervor. Your passion grew more intense, the fire between you threatening to consume you completely.

As he stripped you of the last of your clothes, you delighted in looking at each other, naked and vulnerable. Kaeya admired the way your breasts bounced gently with each breath, your nipples erect and inviting.

He leaned down and kissed you gently before taking one nipple between his lips and sucking gently until you moaned in pleasure.

His hand moved between your legs, fingers finding your wetness, sliding inside you, teasing your clit. You arched your back, pressing against him, digging your nails into his skin.

"I want you," you whispered huskily, your voice barely audible over the sounds of your passion. "Now."

Kaeya didn't need to be told twice; he positioned himself at your entrance and entered you, slowly at first, then faster, harder.

Your cries filled the small space around you, echoing off the tent walls like a symphony of pleasure. Kaeya embraced you, feeling your heart racing wildly beneath his fingers as he sank deeper into you. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy through your body, making you arch your back and moan loudly.

"Fuck~" you cried out, meeting each of your movements with one of his.

Your bodies moved together as if in choreography, perfectly in tune with each other's desires. You could feel his muscles tense around you, drawing him deeper into your depths.

"You feel so good," you gasped, your voice strained from the effort.

Your hands gripped Kaeya's shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh just enough to remind you how much you wanted him.

You arched your back, pressing even harder against him, wanting more of him inside you.

"I want you too," Kaeya moaned, his body shaking with desire. His mouth found yours again, kissing it passionately, sucking greedily at your lips. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer to him, pressing even harder against you.

Your bodies were now slick with sweat, your skin glistening in the dim light of the tent. You moaned softly, your voice a gentle purr against Kaeya's ear.

"Please, Kaeya, don't stop," you whispered, your words barely penetrating the thick air between you. You felt his muscles tense under your fingers, an answer to your pleas.

He buried his face in your neck as he kissed you softly. You knew what he was thinking: he was desperate, eager to please you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight as he thrust deep into you.

Your orgasm exploded between the two of you, fragments of greed and lust, of ambition for your bodies, of belonging to each other.

He kissed you as if your soul was escaping through your lips, as if he wanted to own every last fragment of your being. He wrapped you in an embrace, warmth traveling between the two of you, traces of your orgasm.

"I love you," Kaeya whispered, very much like him after such a round.

"Don't go away again, please," you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"If I leave for too long, I promise to take you with me," he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek and another on your chin. A smile on your neck was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep. ….

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Omg girl I hope you liked it. I tried. I swear you.

Merry Christmas to you all btw!

Next post will be about Alhaitham bc sir... those arms are driving me crazy. As you can see I haven't slept well.

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort pt. 5

Screenshot by @lavendarr00

6.7k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Summary: Nym's forced time away from her homeland - The High Forest - teaches her many truths within mere days; truths that she likely would have otherwise never come to know.

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming (if you squint), vampire bites, needy/desperate astarion, past refrence to trauma (or something), hurt/comfort, OC is autism-coded

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 (Recommended)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

Nym woke up in Astarion’s tent, feeling anxious and groggy from the blood loss. She stretched her arms into the air, releasing a deep, eye-watering yawn.

Beside her, Astarion lay with his eyes closed. Nym sensed she might have disturbed his trance, but assumed he needed to get more rest and was still attempting to do just that.

She scratched the nape of her neck, trying to brush her tangled hair with her fingers, a result of days without proper care.

With a slight grimace, she crawled gingerly towards her overstuffed pack, determined to locate the simple wooden comb procured just the day prior.

In the depths of her bag laid a jumbled assortment of yesterday's acquisitions, among them a fresh ensemble of lightweight leather armour for Nym. Comprised of a supple suede top, a flowing poncho, and loose-fitting trousers, the new attire promised both comfort and improved mobility for battle.

Nym’s stomach fluttered with anticipation as she envisioned herself adorned in the new garments, feeling the enhanced freedom of movement they would afford her in combat.

After rummaging through the contents of her bag and extracting her daily attire, Nym resumed her search for the elusive comb. Once retrieved, she swiftly donned her clothing, mindful this time to dress before exiting the tent, determined not to repeat the awkward encounter of revealing herself to her companions without their express consent.

She was striving to fit in and adjust to the new environment, and despite the discomfort of being away from her usual surroundings, Nym found herself cherishing this time outside the High Forest.

While she was living in the High Forest, she had been utterly ignored by most for her entire life; in contrast, here she was chosen to be a leader. The prospect still confused her, but she was becoming more accustomed to it with each day.

Maybe I'll stumble upon a book on leadership during our downtime, she mused.

Nym gagged as a wave of nausea hit her; she knew that she had to use the amulet, lest she would feel sickly all day.

With a whispered incantation, a blue light enveloped Nym, accompanied by the faint sound of wind chimes. As the magic took hold the light and sounds faded, leaving her feeling as refreshed as after a restful night's sleep.

Rising ungracefully, Nym emerged from Astarion’s tent to discover Gale already tending to the fire, diligently engaged with the cookpot.

A surge of apprehension swept over her; the prospect of establishing boundaries with Gale filled her with unease. Her gut instinct told her to simply brush aside the issue and feign normalcy - though that desire warred with a more practical one: facing the uncomfortable topic directly in the spirit of open communication. 

Contemplating her options, Nym weighed the possibility of confronting him head-on the next time he made advances, opting to let him be the one to broach the topic first; but, the thought of his potential reaction to her rejection twisted her stomach into knots. What if he dislikes me afterward? Or worse, what if he gets angry? 

Nym shuddered, attempting to banish the unsettling notion. As murky memories from her time in the High Forest resurfaced, her breath caught in her throat and her muscles tensed. Recognizing the need to divert her attention, she resolved to find a distraction.

In regards to Gale, Nym acknowledged her limited understanding of him thus far. There remained a chance that he might view her rejection as an opportunity for personal growth, or some such realization. I'll deal with that when the time comes, she concluded, hoping fervently to avoid that conversation altogether. But she had a feeling that crossing that bridge would likely be inevitable.

"Good morning!" Gale called cheerfully, snapping Nym out of her spiralling thoughts. "Fancy some eggs?"

Nym realized she had been standing tensed up, staring at Gale's back for far too long. She was grateful to be pulled into the moment by his seemingly kind voice and demeanour.

Her voice cracked as she squeaked, “Yes, please!” 

Barefooted, she waltzed to the logs by the fire with her comb, socks, and boots in hand, sitting adjacent to Gale, shimmying her socks and footwear on. 

Gale cracked two eggs in the pan and started scrambling, causing Nym to grimace; she loved eggs, but couldn’t tolerate the texture of scrambled eggs - even the thought of the sponginess touching her hard palate made her feel nauseous once more.

Gale, ever observant, couldn't help but notice Nym's fidgeting as her gaze lingered on his scrambled eggs. "Not a fan of scrambled eggs, I gather?" he inquired, casting a thoughtful glance towards her, squinting against the sun's glare as he tended to his culinary creation. "No worries, my friend. These are for me, then. My apologies for not checking with you first."

Nym breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a wave of comfort wash over her. "I hope I'm not causing too much trouble," she murmured apologetically, averting her gaze.

"Not at all," Gale reassured her, his tone lightening. "I feel rather at home while tinkering with food over a flame. It's a bit of a relaxation ritual, one might say." With a flourish, he transferred the scrambled eggs onto a metal plate, seasoning them with herbs foraged from the surrounding woodlands and a pinch of salt. "And how do you take your eggs?"

At that moment, Nym found herself pleasantly surprised by Gale's genuine kindness. Despite their minimal interaction since the crash, save for a brief encounter on the beach and her lingering appreciation for the book-like scent that seemed to emanate from him, his considerate gesture touched her, and eased her previous worries.

Gale is safe, Nym thought, like a mantra in her mind. I am safe.

Nym smiled and exhaled before pursing her lips to the side in thought. “Would it be too much to ask for boiled eggs?”

“Not at all! Actually, I have a kettle of water that I had boiled for tea earlier, it will make the job quicker, you see.” Gale began organizing an iron pot over the fire, and pouring the hot water into it, followed by two eggs.

Nym had always thought Gale was handsome, but this act of service made her blush shamefully. It made her want to cover her face and scream, the way he went out of his way to make sure that she would eat. Gods - was Gale going to put a wrench in her plan? 

She felt some strange obligation, as if she was meant to be already devoted to Astarion - for Nym was nothing if not a woman of her word. She responded to the odd pang of guilt by methodically dispelling the physical sensation -  the unwanted thoughts dissipating as she shook them away, starting from her arms, through her hands, and finally to the very tips of her fingers.

If Gale noticed her shiver, he didn’t say anything.

Nym took a deep breath and finally began to comb her hair, careful not to rip or tug at her sensitive scalp. Her hair was coarse and black, with undertones of copper that only revealed themselves in the sunlight.

As Nym worked through her knots, her attention snapped to Astarion as he leisurely emerged from his tent, adorned in his freshly acquired leather armour. His physique still struck her, his broad chest, narrow hips, and sharp jawline a picture of perfection in her eyes.

Nym shot her head away from the pale elf and closed her eyes tightly, continuing to work away at her locs. Fuck, she thought. It wasn’t fair that her mind kept going there. She wanted both of them, and she felt like she was going mad at the thought of it. 

Yet, the memory of Astarion's distress, his tears, weighed heavily on her conscience. Caught between conflicting emotions, she felt trapped, uncertain of how to handle her overwhelming desires - or whether she should even address them at all.

Suddenly, a soft thud on the log beside her interrupted her thoughts.

“Hello, my sweet.”

Again with the pet names, Nym noted inwardly, feeling the familiar tug at her heartstrings. This man seemed to possess an uncanny ability to stir something within her, yet she remained resolute in not letting it show. With practiced ease, she slipped on her figurative mask as she finished combing her hair, causing it to poof out around her.

"Oh, hello Starry," she greeted, though her smile failed to reach her eyes.

Astarion cocked his head, regarding her with a quizzical expression.

Shit - he knows.

However, Astarion didn’t press further, and instead, he handed her a book - one of the books that she had nicked from the Dank Crypt: Wood Elves of the High Forest. 

“I thought we could do a bit of reading, keep our minds occupied.” Astarion smiled roguishly while Nym took the book from him.

 “How does a braid sound, Nym?” Shouted Shadowheart from across the camp, making her way towards their cohort.

Nym turned her head to Shadowheart. “Oh, hi! Good morning Shadowheart,” Nym beamed.

Nym entertained the idea of having a braid, imagining the pleasant feeling of keeping her hair from touching her dewy back amidst the sweltering heat. “Please - if you don’t mind,” she responded, nodding graciously with a smile.

Nym felt it odd to be pampered so, and she made a mental note to find a way to return the favour.

As Shadowheart positioned herself behind Nym, Nym passed her the comb, and Shadowheart retrieved a few hair ties from her pocket.

Nym opened her book, casually leafing through the pages and landing on a page about a quarter-ways through. While the Cleric uncomfortably tugged at her hair, she brought the open pages closer to Astarion.

She traced her fingers beneath the text, silently inviting Astarion to follow along.

“The wood elves, also known as Or-tel-quessir, descend from moon elves, wild elves, and sun elves who preferred woodland sanctuaries after the turmoil caused by the Crown War.”

“Wood elves are level-headed creatures, and arousing strong emotions from them would prove difficult.”

“Yeah, all except for me apparently,” Nym chuckled awkwardly. 

“Wood elves often exuded an air of aloofness in contrast to their Tel-quessir brethren, their rugged demeanour detracting from their charisma.”

“Wood elves, being culturally polyamorous, would find much friction in romantic relationships with High elves who have a reputation of being strictly monogamous. Many hypothesize that said relationships are destined for dissolution, leading to a scarcity of offspring between the two races.”

Nym pondered, her lips pursed in contemplation, the final paragraph stirring discomfort within her. A quick glance at Astarion revealed his furrowed brows, a subtle unease washing over her as she noticed his clear perturbation.

Halfway done with her braid, Shadowheart tilted Nym’s head to the side. “What’s this?” Asked the cleric, concern coating her tone.

Nym’s eyes widened wildly and she slapped a hand to her neck, remembering the scabby bite marks that she unfortunately forgot to treat with a healing potion before leaving Astarion’s tent this morning.

“Nothing,” said Nym. Her body tensed rigidly, breath catching in a sudden stillness.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would guess that you’d been bitten by a vampire with those two suspiciously placed puncture wounds right atop your jugular vein,” Shadowheart pressed.

Nym’s face began to turn red from the lack of oxygen, her eyes fixated on a pebble near the fire and her lips tightened into a thin line. 

There was no chance she'd break Astarion's trust by spilling the beans on his condition - even if that meant taking a vow of silence.

“He's a bloody vampire!” shouted Gale from across the fire, causing Nym’s eyes to snap up and scan the wizard who now stood staring daggers at Astarion.

“Vampire spawn, to be more accurate,” Astarion clarified, standing to match Gale’s fierce demeanour. Astarion quickly collected himself, sighing and opening his posture. “Look - I’m not going to hurt any of you, I swear.”

Nym’s vision was quickly becoming spotty with black and purple, and the last thing she heard before collapsing backwards and falling unconscious was a murmuring from Gale that was distorted by the ringing in her ears.

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“It’s probably the blood loss,” Gale protested.

“Gale, would you relax? You’re only going to distress her more; besides, her blood levels are completely normal.” Shadowheart held Nym’s head that had fallen back into her lap, her eyes slowly blinking back into lucidity.

“I second that notion - I too would appreciate the wizard’s silence,” Astarion said, kneeling next to Nym and placing a cool and soothing hand on her forehead.

As Nym stirred awake, her head lolled back, a warm smile gracing her lips as she locked eyes with Astarion, who leaned in with concern. She found herself nestled in Shadowheart's lap, the worry in their eyes melting into reassurance at her awakening.

Astarion brought his hand to her cheek, caressing it affectionately and stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Your dynamism definitely keeps things interesting, darling."

Nym felt slightly embarrassed in her current predicament, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she was permitted to speak on Astarion’s affliction yet. 

“Astarion - I,” Nym started. “May I?” 

She hoped that Astarion could infer what she was trying to communicate with the few words she spoke and the pleading look in her eyes. 

Astarion nodded at Nym. “I’ve already told them, so share what you wish - though I do thoroughly appreciate your burgeoning loyalty. It does wonders for my ego,” he said, smirking waggishly, still holding Nym’s cheek.

Nym gave a brisk nod and straightened up on the log, heels pressing into the earth as she rested her forearms on her knees. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to address their group, her half-complete updo falling slightly as she lowered her head.

She adjusted her posture, bringing her knees together in the hope that a more proper posture might inspire her teammates to take her more seriously.

“Astarion is a vampire spawn, but he won’t hurt us,” Nym assured them. “He and I - well - we have an agreement.”

“How long have you known, Nym?” Asked Shadowheart.

“Since the first night. . .” 

“And you didn’t think this was pertinent information to share with the rest of us?” Shadowheart prodded, her face screwed up.

Nym turned to see Shadowheart better, who sat on her knees behind her. 

“Well - no,” she scoffed. “He’s very well-mannered - and well-fed.” 

She pointed her nose to the sky snobbishly.

“Clearly,” Shadowheart remarked, shooting a piercing glare at Astarion.

Nym clenched her jaw tightly, remembering how guilty Astarion had initially felt about their little arrangement. 

He coughed a nervous laugh, saying, “Look - I'm here in the spirit of openness and honesty.” 

But Nym knew - despite the invisible wall he'd suddenly put up - that Astarion felt he was a burden; and she wouldn't stand for anyone guilting him for something he couldn't control.

Nym grunted, balling her white-knuckled fists. “Erg - you’d all better stop fighting about this. I told you, he won’t hurt us. I’m sure if he wanted to, he would’ve by now.” 

A smirk danced upon Astarion's lips at Nym's defence.

“Shadowheart,” Nym began, rising to confront the cleric, “you said it yourself; my blood levels are normal. What’s the issue with a couple of minuscule - and consensually inflicted wounds? Forgive me, but I’m failing to see the issue here.”

A moment of silence enveloped the group until Gale interjected. "She speaks the truth."

"What?" Shadowheart exclaimed, her confusion evident.

“We all have our burdens, one way or another,” Gale explained calmly.

A sardonic chuckle escaped Astarion. "And here I thought the wizard lacked insight. Well then - I stand corrected." He reclined, resting on his hands.

Nym looked over to Gale appreciatively, quietly huffing. She really thought Gale might’ve had it out for Astarion after the whole incident at the beach, but she was delightfully taken aback once again by his courtesy today and it caught her off guard.

In a way, Astarion’s snarky remark described precisely what she was thinking, too.

“Fine. As long as he keeps his fangs away from my neck, I suppose I can accept him,” Shadowheart stated, her scowl turning into a cheeky grin. “Besides, we need each other, and having a vampire spawn on our side doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Relief flooded Nym. Now that Astarion's secret was out in the open, he could use all of his weapons in battle, filling his belly even more. 

Many things about Astarion pointed toward a tortured past; from figuring out that he had never been full before, to the way his walls came up seemingly automatically at times, and even the distant look that periodically painted his face during their most recent coupling.

Nym yearned to understand him more intimately. Though she had few friends in the High Forest, she was well-acquainted with its cats; Astarion reminded her of a feral one. With feral cats, you begin by tossing them fish from a distance, gradually earning their trust until, one day, they begrudgingly accept the fish from your hand, convinced that it poses no threat.

Furthermore, if you were lucky enough, the cat might even come into your home and never want to leave once having a taste of true safety - away from the threat of potential predators.

Nevertheless, Nym was excited to watch Astarion fight whilst making use of his fangs and sanguine appetite.

She pondered what to say next, deciding on how a good leader might respond to all this. Perhaps something to boost morale. “You are all - very - er - good boys . . . and girl,” Nym stated clumsily.

The group fell into awkward silence, all eyes on Nym, who grinned nervously.

“Aha,” Astarion was the first to break the silence with high-pitched laughter. 

“Nymsy, my dear - I can’t tell if you broke the tension or made it worse - either way, we’d ought to set out for the day now that that’s sorted,” he said, standing to wipe the dirt from his hands with a handkerchief pulled from his pocket. 

What? Was that an insult or simply a jest? 

Nym didn’t respond as Astarion stood up and adjusted his weapons and Gale handed her a plate with two peeled and salted boiled eggs.

“You are also quite the good girl,” Gale uttered happily, his features relaxed, eyes searching for Nym’s.

Nym’s face flushed as she grabbed the plate, releasing a small “Thanks,” as her eyes trailed up to meet his.

Shadowheart scoffed. “Would you two get a room,” she complained, continuing her work on Nym’s braid.

A quiet thud could be heard coming from the treeline behind her, causing her to flinch and spin her head around.

It was Astarion, who had thrown one of his daggers at a tree and was about to throw another.

Is he mad? Was it something I did?

Nym realized that she had to eat her breakfast before she started feeling sick, assuming that she may have been the cause for Astarion’s negative shift in mood.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The cloudy day dragged on, and Nym would’ve been lying if she hadn’t admitted to herself that she’d been periodically choked up throughout it. At times, she’d found it difficult to focus on the tasks at hand, including during a battle with two tieflings who had captured their gith friend. 

One of the tieflings had smashed the pommel of their blade into the side of Nym’s forehead, causing her to bleed and lose her balance. Her blood dripped rapidly into her eye, filling her sclera with a red fog and muddying her vision.

Astarion swiftly stabbed through the tiefling’s throat before proceeding to raise his voice at Nym. “Get up, damn you!” He yelled while Gale took care of the other tiefling.

She hadn’t even realized that she had fallen to her hands and knees until Shadowheart was above her healing her. 

She felt utterly useless - yet, as she stood at the helm of her motley crew, she couldn't shake the lingering doubt that gnawed at her core like a relentless predator. 

What could she possibly offer that they couldn't procure with greater finesse? In the symphony of her insecurities, the discordant notes of self-doubt played on, a haunting melody that echoed through the corridors of her mind.

I’ll never be good enough - 

“It seems she’s had quite enough,” Gale interjected, rescuing her from the abyss of negativity once more.

“Tchk - if this leader can’t even face two tieflings, how do we expect her to help us in any other manner?” Lae'zel's words cut through the air, sharp and direct.

"Hah! Spare me," Astarion scoffed, "The one who ended up caught and caged by those tieflings has the gall to lecture us about leadership, while our own leader risks life and limb to save your ungrateful hide."

So he’s not mad at me? Then what’s going on with him? Nym wondered.

"One should refrain from casting stones while dwelling in glass abodes, as the saying goes," Gale quipped seriously.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “This is why I suggested that we leave the gith to her fate,” she stated, still kneeling beside Nym.

Nym couldn’t fathom why Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart were all on her side in this issue, especially after she’d shamefully fallen in battle.

“She’s right, in part. You all deserve better,” Nym conceded, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I will try to do better, in future. I’m sorry.” 

Though her voice wavered, she knew acknowledging her shortcomings might help diffuse the tension and ease the harshness directed towards Lae'zel, whose prowess in battle aboard the nautiloid hinted at her potential in future conflicts. 

She also hoped that her statement didn’t come off as too self-loathing, because she knew that too, would be burdensome.

Thankfully, her speech quelled the impending conflict for the time being, and Lae'zel made way to camp as the rest of their group continued to the grove once again in search of answers to their tadpole problem.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The clouds had cleared by the time they reached the grove. This time, they made note to speak to every vendor before continuing on.

Astarion managed to steal quite a few arrows, and other items that were more easily accessible to take while Nym distracted the sellers by making conversation and purchasing the items that were too risky to nick.

She was able to acquire three more scrolls of Lesser Restoration for her “project” with Astarion through the vendors.

Nym knew that she should gather a couple more scrolls, just to be safe. She tried to hide the scrolls in her pack before Shadowheart or Gale were to notice; the fewer questions asked the better.

One of the vendors, Ethel, stood out among the crowd, an elderly woman with a weathered visage. Without much consideration, Nym divulged everything about their parasitic affliction, much to Astarion's evident amusement.

However, the reaction from the rest of the group was less jovial, their disapproval clear.

“I suppose we didn’t learn our lesson the first time around? Shadoheart interjected with a tight-lipped expression.

“To give grace, Nettie was trying to kill Nym,” Gale interjected dismissively. "But we must exercise more caution about our condition - something was. . . unsettling about that woman."

“She seemed positively demented, I’m just curious to see how this unfolds,” said Astarion with a cheeky grin.

“You’re something of a free spirit, I think, Astarion,” said Nym, nodding curtly and heading toward their next destination.

Astarion fastened his pack and walked behind her as the rest of the group followed suit. “It takes one to know one, darling,” he said, catching up with her and flashing a wink in her direction.

Nym stifled a giggle, acknowledging the camaraderie they shared.

Except for moments when he was upset with me, Nym thought, still reflecting on her day critically. 

Nonetheless, in the event of a confrontation, the four of them could easily manage an encounter with a single elderly woman - of that much, Nym was sure.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The horizon had all but snuffed the sun’s light, and Nym was elated to have found a total of five scrolls of Lesser Restoration during today’s journey.

She and Astarion sat across from one another in his tent, as Nym excitedly organized all five scrolls between them.

“There,” she said, hovering her hands over the scrolls. “Five will be enough I think.”

Astarion’s eyes and mouth fell wide open, his words seemingly caught in his throat. “You’re - serious about this?”

“Yup! I believe that the results of this experiment will become fundamental knowledge for you, and possibly other spawn, depending on where our lives take us.” Nym paused. “I mean - where your life takes you.” 

Astarion’s expression rapidly morphed into a composed, devilish grin. Crawling towards Nym, he positioned his lips near her ear and snaked his hand up and under the back of her shirt, splaying his fingers possessively. “This is quite the gift - darling,” he murmured, his voice resonating at a low timbre that sent a chill down Nym’s spine and his breath tickling her lobe.

Astarion nipped at her ear, coaxing quiet moans from her throat as she began to melt in his gentle grasp.

Astarion sat back on his knees, the sudden loss of contact making Nym droop, unbidden. As usual, even the slightest physical affection caused her eyes to become heavy with desire.

Astarion neatly placed the scrolls off to the side of their bedrolls. “You’re sure you want this,” asked Astarion, offering her one last chance to withdraw. 

“Huh?” Nym replied, snapping out of her reverie. Nym then scrunched her eyes shut and nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! For the pursuit of knowledge.” 

She beamed. “Er - and if you want to use all of my body while drinking from me, I am - of course - impartial.” She gazed away, avoiding eye contact as a warm blush crept up on her cheeks.

“Just impartial?” Astarion cooed, wrapping his hand around the back of Nym’s head and gently lowering her onto the bedroll. His eyes roamed over her face, finally settling on her lips with a composed precision that seemed almost too controlled, as if savouring the moment with deliberate care.

Astarion crashed his lips into hers fervently, seeking entrance with his tongue and eliciting whines from Nym.

Nym reciprocated, closing her eyes and letting Astarion take control of her mouth as he climbed between her legs, gripping her waist.

He continued to massage her exposed waistline tenderly while placing chaste kisses in a line from her cheek, to her jaw, and then her throat where he would begin to suck her tender flesh into his lips without drawing blood.

Nym felt him holding back, reminding her why she felt so incredibly safe around him. She didn’t want to impose her desires, but her knees came up and her hips tilted upwards, unbidden.

Astarion groaned into her neck, his mouth disconnecting with a pop as his hips rocked into her warm core. His hand journeyed south, teasing just beneath the waistline of her pants.

“You seem more than impartial,” Astarion groaned with a sweat forming on his brow, becoming breathless.

It was true that Nym desired more, and she knew that if his hand were to travel any lower, he would find her weeping quim as evidence of that. 

However, Nym felt Astarion’s hardness as he rutted against her, and she could tell how painfully tight his strays must be.

She witnessed the desperation of the handsome elf lying between her legs, noticing how he carefully avoided letting his hands wander too far. It intrigued her that a vampire spawn of two hundred years - finally free in a myriad of ways; to bask in the sun, darken doorways unbidden, and bed whomever he wished - displayed such restraint when it came to intimacy, seemingly valuing her word a great deal; or at least a great deal more than most of her previous partners who would’ve surely plunged their fingers into her nethers - and elsewhere - by now.

“Just admit it, my dear. You wish to feel me inside you - don’t you?” Astarion whispered, nearly moaning the last words as his fingers softly nudged below her belly and his hair grazed the side of her face.

The idea of retorting with “But you want me, too,” crossed her mind, but she was unsure how those words would sit with him.

Opting to protect his pride, Nym gave in with a “Yes,” and a, “please - I want you.”

Astarion took to her response by swiftly pulling his shirt over his head, before closing in on Nym’s lips with a hasty smooch. 

He stood to remove his pants and his length sprang free, its tip glistening with seed already. 

In the meanwhile, Nym removed her loose top and baggy pants with a flourish, readying herself for what she knew was to come.

“How do you want me?” Nym asked considerately, coming up on her elbows.

Astarion loomed over her and gestured his hand over her body. “You’re perfect right there, my love. I want to see that pretty face of yours when I. . .” He paused, breathing deeply, “unravel you.”

He descended on Nym, kissing her all over and inserting two digits into her entrance, palming her clit with practiced ease. Astarion made a satisfied sound when he felt how wet Nym was, and Nym gritted her teeth to try and stifle her cries while he brought his teeth to her breast, taking her mound into his maw.

He ran his tongue along her pebble and curved his fingers into her hole, pumping languidly. His teeth punctured the flesh on her breast and he began to suck vehemently, his voracious sounds sending vibrations through her body.

Just as she began to quiver around him, he lifted from her bosom, watching as her jaw slackened. He stroked her inner walls, prioritizing the tight circles he was creating with his palm on her nub.

He looked at her with an intense crimson gaze, his usually tamed hair clinging to his forehead. Astarion’s mouth was stained with her ichor, making him appear feral and wild - two things she typically thought him to be the antithesis of.

Nym was panting, completely lost in his touch and trembling wantonly. 

Amidst the haze, she reached for his face and cupped his cheek in a lover's gesture. When her palm made contact with his face, his expression relaxed and he placed a sweet kiss on her wrist.

His hand sped up, coaxing more cries from Nym. Her orgasm crested and Astarion adorned a satisfied smile, watching Nym’s hand fall limply to her side.

Nym lay panting and twitching transiently while Astarion removed his fingers only to insert them into his mouth. His eyelashes fluttered closed as he cleaned his digits, humming around them. 

He freed his mouth of his hand, a string of saliva connecting them for a moment. “Delicious,” he purred.

“The night has only just begun - and I have other means of making you come undone,” Astarion cooed, leaning into Nym’s ear once again. “And other things I’d like to make you cum on - if that’s quite alright with you.” His voice bore a deep husky tone that nearly made Nym faint once more.

Unusual for Nym during intimacy, she found herself unable to speak. She could all but ogle pleading eyes up at Astarion, his chest muscles rippling with each adjustment under the candlelight.

Astarion positioned himself between Nym’s thighs, kissing her face all over and thrusting teasingly between her folds, an affection that made Nym’s heart flutter. She had so many sexual partners in the past; she had slept with some women, and almost every man her age in her village, many partners of hers falling between or outside the binary of “man” or “woman”. Despite having been made to cum by so many peers, and even having been cleaned up for after trysts, never had she felt this continuous connection and admiration from someone that she shared a bed with.

It felt right - which in turn made something within her scream and tear away at her walls of self. She felt an immediate urge to snuff the screaming, to smother it into silence; but as Astarion thrust inside her at last, the proverbial screaming increased to a fever pitch. 

Astarion pulled his face from Nym, who had started sobbing with a trembling lower lip. He immediately stilled. Panicked, his eyes were round and his brows canted up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone low and serious.

Nym brought her forearms to cover her eyes and swipe the tears away. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she had to ruin this moment with Astarion because her brain concluded the ludicrous notion that she’d only been a warm body to everyone.

They liked me,

They finally liked me . . .

They wanted me around.

But no matter how many times Nym tried to reaffirm her counterfeit beliefs, the truth was ripping and tearing a gaping hole into her fermented soul.

Before she could think better of it, the words slipped from her lips, “Do you like me?” 

She trembled, removing her arms from her tear-riddled eyes.

Astarion looked upon Nym, his lips parted and his hardness still seated deep within her. “I - yes, Nym.”

“But am I . . . more than just a warm body for you?” Nym asked. She felt she already knew the answer if she were being honest with herself, but she just wanted to hear it come from him.

Astarion paused for a moment, blinking at her in stunned silence. His face changed into something pained before he settled himself on his elbows, his face mere centimetres from Nyms. 

“So much more,” he stated firmly.

“Are we . . . friends?” Nym said in a whisper, her wet brown eyes boring into Astarion’s crimson stare.

“At the least,” was the last thing Astarion said before diving for her mouth in a possessive kiss. 

Nym’s lips matched his with passion, unlike any other time they had kissed before. She brought her arms around his back and pulled him close to her. Nym felt ridged scar-like bumps on his back with her fingers, and she massaged his skin delicately. 

She pulled away from the kiss to breathe, as her nose was slightly stuffy from crying.

Astarion gazed at her adoringly while she caught her breath and then pulled her up onto him as he sat back on his heels, her knees resting on either side of him as he held her body close, still filled with his length.

The shifting in positions stirred Astarion within her slightly, causing her to clench around him, her breath picking up pace as she became accustomed to her new placement upon his lap.

His arms wrapped under hers, holding her close. Simultaneously, she encapsulated him, softly tracing along the scars on his back with her fingertips.

“Do you wish to stop?” asked Astarion.

Nym’s lower lip came out in a pout. She didn’t want to stop, she just wanted to feel better - to know that the person she was making love to wanted her for more than -

. . .

Her mind turned to fog, her memories swirling away like a colourful chemical oil spill in mud as she lolled her head forward, inhaling the scent of bergamot and rosemary.

“It won’t change anything between us, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Astarion reassured.

Nym felt oddly calm, aware of what she had just experienced yet unable to fully grasp her peculiar recollections and fragmented emotions.

“No - I want you, “ Nym pleaded, “don’t stop.” 

She couldn’t entirely fathom it, but somehow she felt seen by him; almost as if he understood her paroxysm just now on a deeper or more personal level.

Ultimately, Nym wanted to feel better, and in that moment the way Astarion’s body connected with hers simply felt right.

It seemed he needed no further reassurance, as his hands trailed down to Nym’s bottom, lifting her before dropping her back down on his length prudently.

Nym carded her fingers through his curls while she began moving in rhythm with Astarion, his shaft reaching into her deeply. 

She exhaled a breathy sigh, holding onto his shoulders for balance while she rode him, the subtle and typically imperceptible stubble on his face grazing her on the skin near her collarbone.

His breath came ragged before he fell back, calculatedly pulling Nym with him.

Nym searched for his lips and she pressed them with hers firmly while he brushed his fingers in her hair and then guided her head to the side, disconnecting their lips and exposing her neck to him.

The way his fangs grazed her throat made her shiver, all while Astarion’s pace slowed with one hand in her hair and the other grasping her hip.

His teeth punctured her tender flesh, and his arm that wasn’t in her hair hooked around both of her upper limbs as well as the small of her back, fastening her to him. 

Once he was fully latched onto her, she could feel him sucking and groaning into her neck, his sighs vibrating his entire chest and reverberating through Nym.

Astarion held her taut, using his position to piston into her with great abandon while taking long sips of her lifeblood. 

The initial pain of his bite always faded quickly, turning into something pleasant within just a few seconds. Nym felt Astarion grow harder and larger as he drank from her; this always happened when he supped while they were intimate. Not only that; his flesh grew tepid, and sometimes even warm against her.

How his already large member grew even larger inside her made the pleasure nigh unbearable, as she could feel his cock making contact with every inch of her walls come every thrust.

She was so close again, and as if he could taste it, he removed his fingers from her hair and snuck them to her clit, halting his gulps while he expertly readjusted but not unsheathing his fangs.

A few strokes of her bud sent her crashing into her second orgasm and milking Astarion with her core.

Astarion seemed to follow her thereafter as he removed his hand from her pearl and bottomed out, fully thrusting into Nym and holding her tightly against his hard ivory chest. 

Breathless, Nym could feel herself being filled with his seed, the affection in his grasp and the blood loss causing her to feel weak.

With a grumble, Astarion replaced his possessive latch with the warm and soothing flat of his tongue, followed by his lips which kissed her tenderly. 

Nym, recalling their plans for their experiment, perked up with the little energy she had left, “Why did you stop drinking - what about our experiment?”

Astarion sighed, his head falling back to the bedroll. He looked somewhat frenzied with blood coating his chin. He thrust into her once more, a sigh catching in his throat. “Not tonight.” He massaged her scalp and loosened his grip on her torso. “Just - stay with me, tonight.”

Nym’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and she wondered if he heard it; she hoped he did. Nym knew not if Astarion desired to put off their experiment and have a simple night for his own sake or for Nym’s. Perhaps it was for both of them, but it was a gesture that she didn’t expect and it made her stomach flutter with delight.

This time, the aftercare felt tired, and something about it felt more genuine. When they rested, they held one another closer than ever before, as if keeping something big and scary from taking one another away.

Nym caressed the large protruding scars on his back, and only hoped that someday he would feel comfortable enough to talk about them. Until then, she would simply hold space, just as he’d done for her tonight - a gesture she was wholly grateful for.

Chapter 6>>

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The plot thickens o_o

and apparently so does Astarion

I hope you are all enjoying my nerdy lore dump, I honestly have been loving doing research and getting to share my findings with you in such a fun and engaging way! <3 love you!

Illustration of Nym by me:

[cod-dump]

Bitter Past AU (toxic relationships, mention of torture)

———

It was a mess, wasn’t it? He thought he could get away with not saying anything to them. Hell, Nik hadn’t expected to be married, hadn’t expected to have a husband and boyfriend who he adored and who loved him. Of course it was only a matter of time before He found out.

At one point in his life, Nikolai served loyally without complaint. It was an honor to fight for his homeland, a honor to serve. He was entangled with the radicals, entangled with Makarov in a much more intimate manner. Nik thought he was rid of him, thought the moment he was in the gulag he would never have to worry about him again.

Nikolai wasn’t proud of what he had done when he was with Makarov. Nikolai loves hard, loved Makarov but the man was insane, dangerous and blood thirsty. Hearing his voice, in person for the first time in years, it made his heart nearly break.

“Сахарок,” Nik wanted to scream, and not because of the bullet wound in his shoulder.

That name, something that he hadn’t heard in years— It just reinforced the fact this was happening. Makarov, Vladimir, was standing before him, was walking over and grabbing Nik’s face as he pressed against the wall.

“Ah, it is you!”

He was kneeling in front of him, cradling his face and grinning. Nik wanted to shove him away, wanted wake up from this nightmare. Why was he here? He shouldn’t be here, he should be rotting away in prison! Not holding his face, leaning in close like he wanted to kiss him!

And he did kiss him, tongue shoving into his mouth and hands keeping his face still. Eager, right to the point from the start, a Makarov special. Nik wanted to gag, but a part of leaned into it. Years of being conditioned to respond exactly how Makarov wanted when he touched him, when he kissed him. It was instinct, even after all these years.

Makarov had grabbed his shoulders to get him to move, Nik of course crying out in pain when his injured shoulder was disturbed. Makarov looked at his shoulder, blood that was now on his hand. Darkness swept over his face, a cloud forming over his head.

“You’re hurt,” he growled before standing. He immediately turned to his men, holding his bloody hand up as the men stiffened, “Which one of you shot him?”

No one made a move, no one daring to emote. Nik didn’t miss this. Makarov was always jealous, overreacted to everything. He was impulsive on top of it all which just led to near constant bloodshed. He didn’t like it when things didn’t go a certain way, his way.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to step forward. Who. Did. This?” he pointed at Nik, Nik trying to keep his breathing even. He knew better than to say something, to try to make it seem like it was fine. Makarov has killed over him before, this will be no different.

One man stepped forward, “I did, sir. He had a gun-“

BANG.

Nik flinched as the man dropped, a single bullet to his head. Makarov had a quick draw, it used to excite Nikolai. Used to…

“I’m sorry, Сахарок, that never should have happened,” Makarov was straddling him, holding his face like he was fragile. Nik could see his men staring at their now dead friend, or was he even their friend?

“I’ll have you patched up, and then I’ll have my knight back at my side.”

No-

“141 will be dealt with later. For now, let’s go home.”

Nik knew they would come for him, his John and Phil wouldn’t just stand by. If he fought against Makarov, he would be angry, he would hunt them and kill them. He needs to go along with him, needs to play nice and give John and Phil time. They won’t die here, he won’t let them.

“I’m tired,” he finally said, Makarov cooing when he finally heard his voice.

“Of course you are. I’ll take care of it! A nice, hot bath, soft clothes,” Makarov muttered against his lips, eye’s half-lidded as he held him.

Nik needed to find a way to protect them. Makarov would kill them without hesitation. He never liked sharing, countless women had been killed over being too friendly with Nikolai. Men who got too close, played too rough, were strung up by their own entrails on the walls. Makarov loved to kill, show his strength. Killing for someone was his love language, one that Nik once spoke fluently. Maybe he even still does considering what he has done for John and Phil.

“Let’s go home,” Makarov said, standing so he could help Nik up.

Nik went along with him, mind only thinking of John and Phil, “Of course, Vladimir.”

If he ever saw them again, he hoped it would be after he’s killed Makarov. Or in the afterlife… there were no other options for him. Makarov either died, or he did.

[thehollowwriter]

The Official (Remastered) Bio of Finn Clearcove

Basic Info:

Class: Class 2C

Dorm: Octavinelle

Club: Gargoyle Research Club

Birthday: 20th November

Age: 17

Height: 146cm

Dominant hand: He's ambidextrous

Unique Magic: Mirror Image. He can copy the voice of anyone he directly touches and their physical form if he pushes hard enough. If he wants, he can limit it to certain characteristics. (E.g: voice or eye colour). He can also copy their unique magic. However, it often comes out "wrong" (for example, King's Roar will result in a goopy black tar instead of sand), and if it results in a physical object like Riddle's collar, the object will look nonsensical and ai generated

Preferences:

Favourite subjects: Art, biology

Hobby: Painting

Likes: Butterflies, animals, reading, music, cooking, painting

Dislikes: Large crowds, loud people, showing his teeth, loud sounds, bright lights

Favourite food: Chocolate mousse, shrimp

Additional Info:

Homeland: The Coral Sea

Species: Cookie Cutter Shark Mer

Family: His father and later on Chrysos who belongs to @distant-velleity

Nickname: Blue Angel, courtesy of Floyd (thank you @azulashengrottospiano for the name!)

Relationships: Finn is polyamorous with the Octavinelle trio

Sexuality: Finn is gay and polyamorous

Appearance:

Finn has long, fluffy forest green hair that has a curly seaweed/kelp like shape that goes to just past his is shoulders. It is often tied in a tight bun. His eyes are a bright amethyst and his teeth look like they came straight from the mouth of an angler fish, twisted and horrific.

Finn is very chubby and most people think "soft" and "squishy" while looking at him. Until the dread sets in, that is. He's quite pale as well but has recently started to tan a bit. He is very very small and most of his clothes have to be taken to be adjusted so they actually fit him.

In his true form, Finn's tail and face are forest green in colour, just as is the rest of him. The palms of his hands are seafoam green. His tail is like that of a cookie cutter shark's. There is a large patch of scarring on his left shoulder and the middle of his tail. He has long black claws that are retractable and incredibly sharp.

Finn has a band of black scales around his neck, and from just below that all the way to his navel are photophores that glow in the dark, which helps him camouflage and can even make him look like a school of fish from below.

Personality:

Finn is quiet and mostly keeps to himself, barely speaking to most people unless absolutely necessary, and is usually polite. He lives be the rule "don't bother me and I won't bother you". His "default" expression, if you will, is usually just a blank or serious face.

Finn is intelligent and quick-witted. He often weeds information out of people for Azul, taking the role of the "therapist bartender" except most people get an uncanny valley feeling if they look at him for too long. Despite his politeness something about him always feels wrong to others. They get this sense of dread that make them want to leave as soon as possible.

Finn is quite sadistic and has a deep love for the twisted and macabre. This is often reflected in his paintings, many of which are disturbing in nature. He is very happy to extend his sadistic ways to other students if he deems it necessary. Only if he deems it necessary. (What he deems as necessary can vary)

Finn is, most of the time, immensely confident in himself and who and what he is. He is quiet but he is not, by any means, shy or timid. He does have his insecurities though, mainly about his teeth since they're often viewed as ugly. He covers his mouth whenever he laughs or smiles in public.

Some "Fun" Facts:

▪︎Finn is haunted by the ghosts of the siblings he devoured in the womb in true shark mer fashion, they aren't aggressive towards him but they are tethered to him and cause him nightmares and endless stress and fear (they are the cause of the sense of dread people get around Finn)

•Finn's voice is very soft and very nice to listen to. It's like a flowing river. He's difficult to hear at times.

▪︎Finn enjoys flying and is very good at it

▪︎His family comes from the deep of the midnight zone, so he is well versed in abyssal magic and the dangerous and powerful spells that come with it

•Finn likes to garden

Fic Masterlist

Art by @clovenoko

Art by @boopshoops

.....................................

A/N: Here's the boy! New and improved with an extra long personality section ooops

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @kitwasnothere @officialdaydreamer00 @jaylleoo14 @oya-oya-okay @cynthinesia @azulashengrottospiano @whspermy-name @minteasketches @the-banana-0verlord @adarkenedforest @whspermy-name @twisted-wonderland-but-gayer @ramshacklerumble @cyanide-latte @boopshoops @skrimpyskimpy @jovieinramshackle @quartztwst @amOnline @offorestsongs

@the-trinket-witch @ghostiidasponk @poisoned-pearls @natsukishinomiyaswife

[imanes]

“On Sunday, Nov. 5, following a large and successful protest for Palestinian life and human rights in Calgary, protest organiser Wesam Khaled was arrested by Calgary police. Charged with "disturbing the peace," the police told Khaled that the charge was related to his use of the chant "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” which the police decided to treat as an “offensive anti-semitic comment.” We reject these attempts by Canadian politicians at all levels of government to demonize such protests and falsely accuse protest organizers as antisemitic, when protesters are simply calling for Palestinians to be able to live in their homeland as free and equal citizens.

Please fill out the form below to send an email to Alberta- and Calgary-based politicians and leaders to insist that they immediately drop all charges against Palestine protest organizer Wesam Khaled!”

[deliciouskeys]

So now that I’ve read quite a lot of good meta about Barbara Findley (highly recommend @xieyaohuan and @blindmagdalena’s excellent takes) and let my thought settle, I have an unresolved question: Was everything she said about Homelander’s past true? Or is she pulling a Vogelbaum and whipping out a prepared rehearsed story in dire times to get a specific reaction and steer him a certain way?

On the one hand, I’m inclined to believe what she says is true, because it didn’t seem particularly strategic (and didn’t have much or any real effect aside from move him to explicitly articulate wanting Ryan to be raised differently and, paraphrasing, not like a human— which is important for the plot but not what Barbara was trying to do at all). And surely they wouldn’t have people lie to him with very similar stories (Ryan’s birth vs his own) twice?

On the other hand, there is something a bit strange about her telling him he was programmed to seek their love and approval. None of those top psychologists foresaw that there’d be some pretty terrible downstream effects of raising an super-powerful child in that setting and with the treatment he describes? And, as @bisexualhomelander pointed out, why would his birth be so violent when Ryan’s wasn’t? Are they implying Vought figured out a way to prevent a fetus from doing that?

I’m leaning towards us being supposed for take everything she said at face value. I just don’t know if my BS-o-meter is pinging at her character level or at the writers’ room level.

[freeflowersofmuseums]

Yandere Bouillabaisse

Hello lovelies! dont know if anyone missed me but now that I'm better at writing and playing FF again, I figured I would try writing another shot. If there's something you really wanna see, just dm me a request! i get the struggle of being in a niche fandom and when there's nearly 400+ characters in FF, it can be really hard to find content for a character you like. With that being said, here are some headcanons and a scenario for the food soul Bouillabaisse!

CW: Collaring, drugging, kidnapping, stealing, jealousy and general yandere tendencies. GN!reader

Bouillabaisse or “bisse” as you called him, was fond of you when he was first summoned. For the small price of 150 soul embers from the store, you had gained an eternal companion. He thought you were simply adorable, his past master attendants were powerful mages or even other food souls who wanted him for their own gain, but you were the only person who gave and asked nothing in return. For that alone, he would provide you his service.

Everything you do enchants him. Your laugh, the way you touch his face, and even the food you provide for him warm his heart. He has never met anyone so kind and generous, he tries to return the favor as best he can. Giving you all sorts of knick-knacks he picks up off the road or the beach.

He is set on following you everywhere, while this isn’t too out of the normal for Food Souls, he takes his position as your personal assistant very seriously. When shopping for groceries, he’ll often quietly tuck fruit in his bag while others aren’t looking. The idea that you have to pay for anything in this world is ridiculous. Don't they know that you're the best master attendant in the world?

You pet him in a way he's so fond of. Gently pushing back the hair that obscures his features. You wash his face before bed, tucking him in with care and preparing delicious food in the morning. He watches as you hum various songs. Flitting about the kitchen like a golden ray of sunlight, preparing a meal that you hope he will enjoy just as much as you do. He'd never known this feeling before… this is love, isn’t it?

He despises the fact that you have to toil away at your job, giving your effort to someone who will never appreciate it and only ask for more. Oh, how he wishes he could simply whisk you away, waltzing on the beaches he knows so well while he covers you in sunken treasure. Pearls complement your complexion the best, he thinks.

It's only when a belligerent man catches your fancy does he comes across the realization that he would kill for you. Bouillabaisse hates every fiber of the man's being. He was almost disturbed that such visceral hatred was able to come from his core. Baisee looms over you while he watches the man offer to take you for a beverage. Taking in every disgusting quality of the man. The conversation only lasts a few minutes at most, but the pain is forever ingrained in Bouillabaisse's heart. If he is to properly protect you from the vile instincts of others, he has to isolate you.

He's so sorry. He doesn’t mean to hurt you he promises! But spiking your drink was the only way he could knock you unconscious and whisk you away. He knows that this is the best option for the two of you, but he hates hurting you! He hates knocking you out forcefully, but he found a happy medium in the form of keeping you drugged just enough to be barely conscious. He finds you adorable like this, constantly coo’ing in awe at your inebriated form. You need his help to do everything, a situation that won't last forever, but something he quite enjoys.

When the two of you reach his homeland, he finally feels comfortable enough to let you recover. He sets you down in a big shell basin that's been padded with all sorts of fabrics and pillows.  Smiling at the fact that you look like a pretty pearl when sitting in the shell. The cave seems to be comprised of a small above-water-level portion where you can breathe comfortably, but the only exit seems to be an extremely long tunnel submerged in water. In order to leave you would need Bouillabisse’s assistance.

He holds you as you kick and scream for release from the caves. He lets a few sparkling tears fall from his eyes. He is so frustrated that you can't see the truth! That the only way you’ll truly be happy is with him, right here where he can give you everything you need.

He feeds you just a drop or two of pufferfish poison.  Just enough to keep you from accessing your magic and prevent him from doing what's right. It makes your body run hot and you struggle with physical activity, but Bouillabaisse does everything he can to provide for you.

Now that he has you all to himself, he needs to find a way to mark you. He needs to own you like you own him. While it's likely not a permanent fix, he fashioned a collar for you. Made from the thicker bones of his tail and metal embellishments. He adores dressing you up and perhaps the collar was simply the start, but ever since he wrapped it around your neck you find that he has an odd fascination with picking out your clothing within the limited selection he carried.

Your relationship with Bouillabaisse has drastically changed but it's hard to get mad when you realize most of his actions come from his almost child-like level of ignorance. He loves you and he's not afraid to say it. Perhaps with enough time or patience, you could even convince him to let you leave. Provided you pay the transportation tax in the form of kisses. <3

Threat level: 4/10

Love level: 9/10

[good-old-gossip]

“The recent surge of settler terrorism in the West Bank is the inevitable culmination of years of policy decisions. Over the past decade, successive Israeli governments have unabashedly armed settlers.

The motive has always been crystal clear: to embolden settlers as enforcers of the Israeli government’s agenda, spreading chaos and instilling fear among our Palestinian communities.

Since 7 October, our communities have been subjected to more than 700 documented attacks, with a daily average of four incidents. Perhaps most chilling is the undeniable involvement of the Israeli military in these settler attacks.

This disturbing collusion, combined with a paltry 3% conviction rate for settler violence cases, lays bare a systematic effort to shield perpetrators from accountability.

The recent coordinated settler attacks on Palestinian communities throughout the occupied West Bank struck fear deep into our hearts and left a trail of destruction in its wake.

Life for us as Palestinians in the occupied West Bank has become unbearable.

The Israeli army’s imposition of checkpoints and detours, often to facilitate the protection of settlers, suffocates our freedom of movement. I’ve personally felt the impact of these restrictions acutely. I now find myself visiting my elderly mother and family in Nablus far less frequently, despite living only an hour away.

Towns like Huwwara, once a bustling economic centre, have become a shadow of their former selves amid recurring settler attacks.

The devastating impact of these attacks has forced many business owners to abandon their livelihoods and relocate in a desperate bid to survive. Soon, we may find ourselves trapped in even more isolated urban pockets, surrounded by the constant spectre of settler terrorism.

We’re becoming prisoners in our own homeland; our very existence is threatened. Will the world shake off its slumber and put an end to this descent into catastrophe before it’s too late?”

✍️ by Falastine Saleh

[achy-boo]

Dominique De Luca

Sapphire Lake Dorm's only Master.

A boy with secrets that is too disturbing to heard or talk about

Never ask or mention his bloodied camera..

Name: Dominique De Luca

Romaji: De Luca Dominique

Quote: "Is it wrong to take a photo of every..single..thing just to keep the memories forever?"

V/A: HiMERU from Enstars(Japanese), Lyney from Genshin(English)

Gender: male

Sexuality: Bisexual demiromatic

Age: 23

Birthday: March 12th

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Eye color: gold with a grey aim mark on one eye and an x on the other eye

Ha Color: dark blue(before TWST) a grey and light blue duo color hair (After TWST)

Height: 6'6ft

Weight: 120 lbs

Race: Human????

Homeland: Strasbourg, France

Family:

Unknown French Mother(Deceased/Murdered)

Unknown Italian Father(Deceased/Murdered)

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Sapphire Lake Dorm

School Year: he had to repeat 2nd year due to…an incident

Class: 2-A

Student Number: No.38

Occupation: Florist/Photographer(Part time)

Club: Photography club

Best Subject: History

Favorite Color: Funny enough he loves pastel colors

Favorite Food: Paris-brest

Least Favorite Food: He does not like pecan pie and pumpkin pie(It is the taste of it)

Likes: Desserts, Food, music, coffee or tea, photography, rainy/cloudy days, trying new food, children, watching movies at 3am, anime, manhwa

Dislikes: He hates bitter food/drinks, heat, summer, Crowley(depends), people asking or mention his bloodied camera, reliving his past

Hobbies: drawing, listening to music, drinking tea in the rainy days, photography(this is very important later on)

Talents: Empathy to apathy depends on the situation, silver tongue, blackmailing

Nicknames: Sapphire Lake’s Master(Original Title) France’s Ghost Face(Formal/Never heard in NRC)

Other Nicknames: Domi(Tsukii) Quince(Dawn, Deuce), Mimi(Only the kids and Kianisha can call him that)

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Dominque De Luca stands at 6'6 and a half with grey and light blue duo color long hair that reach his knee length, golden eyes with one had a grey aim mark on one eye and a x on the other. He has dark tan skin with two marks on his face(It is removable btw), In Sapphire Lake Dorm, he wears a gothic baggy clothes however he is very fit and muscular under it. He have four tattoos and three piercings(He is more silent about them). One of his signature items is the chains around his right arm.

Personality: Dominique is what people call him. A good package deal. Meaning that you will have to deal with his constant mood changes depending on the person who he is with. Dominique is flirty(HELLA flirty) but he knows his limits. Bro is sadistic in general when it came to words or actions. However due to him being Sapphire Lake’s only Master, he learn to held off the urge until he gets the green light. Other than that, he is one very interesting guy.

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂

He is the only one in 2nd years that have a deep connection with the Libya Family due to him being friends with Valerian and Ambrose Libya(Ambrose is a boy btw)

He had two photographic cameras(one is forbidden to mention or even ask about it)

He is more protective if you get to know him

He had scars on his back

he is very fit and muscular underneath the baggy clothing he wears

He prefers baggy clothes( But skin tight clothes is fine by him)

He lets the others do his hair(He lets Vil, Crewel and Tsukii chooses his aesthetic)

He used to be a RSA student but bride Crowley to never tell anyone but Sapphire Lake Dorm about that

The Dark Mirror has to look into his soul 4 times to confirm which dorm he belongs too

His main aesthetic is Gothic Victorian

He has veiny arms and hands

Scream for the Camera

“Pictures held a thousand words and stories so look at the camera and make your loudest screams. Scream for the camera!!”

Dominique's UM and its involves his bloodied camera. The UM is about you being your childhood/ favorite places and Dominique taking pictures of said places but each picture get more and more terrifying as time past. The pictures will involves your worst fears and regrets until a unidentified killer appears and the real nightmare begins. You will be chased by said killer as you tried to escape while agonizing and blood curling screams was heard constantly. You have 30 minutes to find a camera and snapped the picture of anything until its too late. What happens after you failed? Then you will see Dominique in front of you with a malicious smile and take a picture before...and after your brutal demise.

The skull in the camera is the final moments of the person's life before they are never waking up.

@yukii0nna @queen-of-twisted @sweetlyvibe @lxdymoon0357 @yumeko2sevilla @kousaka-ayumu @yoghurtsan @aventxsha @txemptress

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We be Lonely together? Epilogue

a Homelander x Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is a GN reader reader fic

Author's note: too self indulgent not to write an epilogue, thanks for reading and am looking forward to making more fics for this fandom, this is Bi Homelander content if y'all read this as fem or non male reader. prev. chapters in my blog under the my fic tag or can we be lonely together? tag will be making a masterlist fairly soon tho.

R18+ mild smut, exhibitionism kink, gore, murder, dub con, dirty talk, surprise butchlander, butcher x reader, 3-way?, amoral protagonist, unreality.

Epilogue

Breeze sang in the ample halls bringing whispers from the balearic sea, a top the mountain overseeing endless azure, greens and neighborhood roofs the world seemed so far away to him.

So many absent walls in this villa, the house was airy and open, blurring the idea of inside and outside with is design.

Cream coloured linen danced against the wind to the seas secret songs, the sun leaving no corner in the shadows, sandy granite warm under the sun, evergreens could be seen from all windows, cascades of green coloured the view, and a pair of cats slept in a guest room.

There was not a sight disturbed by ugly grey buildings, just mountains and sea– left him feeling as Zeus on the top of mount Olympus, inside the airy home only the dull sound of oak ceiling fans pushing the breeze disturbed the halls.

No longer did the steps of strangers disturbed the dull accismus of this temple by the hill, camera crews left most of the home untouched, it had been a busy and exhausting week for Homelander.

Walls had been sparsely decorated, remnants of a past life clung on smooth oatmeal walls and indigo blue wood beecher paneling accentuating one living room of three-- paintings he had grown attached to and the occasional marble statue laid around, but now there were photos of a man one could hardly recognize.

With each new image, time had eroded wounds off his face, there was a glimmer on his features that had never resided there.

Garden pots had been shuffled around for the perfect frame, now he would've had to move them much to his annoyance.

It was the most anticipated interview of the decade, it had gone smoothly, Oprah had been delightful, manly tears had been shed and hair raising stories were shared, she had found him approachable above all.

After a year of silence the whole world was kept on edge awaiting for his return.

The trial hadn’t even televised but they were plenty of updates by the hour circling around-- more than sufficient. Now he had a full schedule, he was to be in the cover of GQ magazine, had some big podcasts lined up for an appearance, and Vogue to model for… it would be so strange to do without his suit.

Homelander sat with his legs dipping into one of his infinity pools, his loosely fitted honeycomb shirt draped around his shoulders like a poor’s man cape, his hair had grown a tad longer, salty seas had turned his flaxen locks almost wavy and a dark thick stubble began adorning his face.

His tablet resting behind him buzzing with a new email, the wrinkles around his eyes sank as he squinted from the blinding wet mirror, distracting enough that your step barely registered.

“You looked quite handsome in the suit this morning…” You spoke gently– I think the people are gonna love your new look… between the tan and the beard you look… sumptuous.” 

“I should’ve shaved. They’ll think I look like a complete slob! I bet they’ll say I let myself go.”

You joined him by the pool as the hot Mediterranean sun stood above you, pulling his head closer to yours for a flurry of butterfly kisses.

“You look stunning, mi sol. Either way… lunch is ready… Ryan called and said him and Jaythaniel’s family just made it to Disneyland, don’t forget to pick him up tonite.” You said softly squeezing his thigh–  he said he’ll call after lunch.” 

He nodded absentmindedly.

“You don’t think Theodore is going to wake up?”

Worry clung to his tongue, his ears picking up the soft lull of his son’s snoring, Blender making biscuits on his sides but the child slept deeply, you could tell he had entered deep REM stage, you shook your head much to John’s relief.

“I can’t believe we are doing this… you spoil us too much.” He kissed your ear before lifting himself and dropping into the pool.

The sun sparkled harshly against the glass tiles, the sky more blue from below, your sinuous reflection watching him until he emerged, the tired breeze doing very little to dry him, you followed him giddy as his wet footprints led you to the wine cellar.

 It had been an expensive endeavor to have all of this installed… several 3x3 plastic acrylic panels of 32 mm thickness, a high tech locking mechanism plus humidity and temperature control systems had to be installed independently of a good enough contractor who could reinforce the flooring with a steel mesh and coat the cement flooring with resin just to make it impossible for their friends to dig, there had been many logistical nightmares from finding the right contractors to finding a spot for it, it was easy to sell the strange boxes as a sex thing– blaming having super-abled kids increasingly longer list of powers that made it hard for dear ol’ daddy to get off… especially when the word ‘soundproofing’ had been mentioned, or his super strengths which led to some nasty laughs and a bit of murder later down the track, the last thing that mattered had been costs.

No amount of sound ever escaped the wine cellar, the zinc plates coating the walls prevented Ryan and himself from seeing in or out, Theodore was young enough to listen to instructions, if not it was your turn to discipline the toddler.

Opening that door was always a surprise, bringing him almost as much joy as that first christmas day as a complete family.

As they took the stairs he could smell mullet wine and lebkuchen– the tension in his muscles still fresh as he entered a home that had only existed in childish fantasies, awkwardness that never seemed the fade as the strangers hounded him with questions, but he had had you, Ryan and now Theodore for much needed emotional support, it had been almost perfect as it had been intense, it had been strange to hear all these stories of a woman he had murdered, who had only suffered, it was stranger how her only sister had not blame him for the nature of his birth, still grateful that he had found her even if it took forty years, grateful that something more than a pristine corpse was left behind.

Her body refusing to decay inside that pine box.

The cellar door beeps, and cogs turn inside the heavy metal door, fluorescent lights sung awake by the entrance, bringing much needed light to the dark sub-basement, only the three small lights inside the boxes lighten the area for most of the day.

A woman shuddered, flinching as more light hit her eyes, hiding beneath the bolted desk, you walked past Homelander carrying today's menu, there was something enjoyable about the challenge of creating an ever changing menu that was nutritionally balance, delicious and required no cutlery. The disheveled woman approached eagerly at the floating box, awaiting for you to place her meal, intentionally keeping her starved, this had been his decision for this particular guest-- to see if she would go mad. Due to the lack of windows she had no concept of time after all while the lights were on a timer, they were programmed to be irregular enough to cause confusion. To visit at random intervals and feed her whenever he remembered.

Homelander and John wanted to watch her scoof down her meal, to see her choke and tear up as she filled her cheeks and swallowed greedily– but their attention was reserved for guest number two.

“If I knew I had you getting all wet and bothered for daddy, I would’ve worn something nicer” His voice dry, barely lifting his head from the bed.

Homelander helps himself to the mini bar cracking open some pale ale for the world’s largest paper cup, humming a tune as he prepped today's round of meds while you set his meal.

“Got you pale ale… unless you’d like some peach bellinis?” 

Homelander opened the cabinets, rows of neatly organized sex toys, booze and cleaning supplies were displayed– sex toys solely for decor, you both had committed to the bit, much of these had never been used nor did he want to, you had no need for vibrators when his hands did the job so perfectly. He took out a cattle prod, then pressed a code unto a small hidden panel making sure the guest couldn’t peek.

The inner latches came apart, the door hissed open.

There was no need to consider escaping, it was futile, the door upstairs was thicker than the glass, and no amount of yelling got anybody’s attention-- but he didn’t try killing himself either, for the last time he’d tried he had been here in no time, he had a chip monitoring his vitals at all times, and the camera on top of his room watched over him.

You also helped in that department.

Homelander entered first, you placed the food on the floor for Homelander to give Butcher his back.

Almost encouraging him to jump him.

“Would it kill you to wear pants?”

Homelander chuckled as he turned around with Butcher’s meal, wearing nothing but his wet shirt clinging to him tighter than his suit ever did, and black briefs.

“Would it kill you to agree to my offer?”

“Not going to play house with you, stupid cunt.”

Butcher didn’t argue with the meal, taking the food off his hand and sitting by the bolted table, the chair also bolted which made for an awkward fit.

“You got three months left William… these meds might get you one more… it's already been weeks… you want to spend the rest of your days here watching her starve to death or you want to be with Ryan? He wishes to see you. Be there for him… you just have to be with us.”

Butcher bared his teeth, mutterign curses under his breath as he gave him his back.

You entered the room taking the cattle prod  tucked under his arm, Butcher ate ignoring him, throwing the tray towards his face, forever amused as to how he never bothered to dodge it, John rolling his eyes as the plastic dropped around him.

“I’m being generous after what you did to Dolores… that was… well… you lived up to your name.” 

“Said I’ll get even.” 

He had made Dolores into the antithesis of her craft, it had stung, to witness her unrecognizable being-- a DNA test confirming its identity. Close casket was the only choice.

Homelander watched him eat as you prepared yourself, undressing in the corner, fresh bruises adorning your thighs, handprints where he had held you solidly against his mouth.

Closing the door behind, locking Homelander and Butcher inside one box, giddy he jumped into the thin futon.

“Here I thought we were having the world’s most disappointing threesome… all thirteen seconds of it.”

He took a sip of the ale, it was utterly delicious but he wouldn’t let Homelander hear it from his mouth, this his only joy while stuck in this box. He turned to you watching as you opened the door on guest number 1, then back at Homelander already squeezing himself, a wet suther escaped his lips as your nude frame approached her, Butcher buried his brow.

You had ignored her for weeks, fed her irregularly while feeding Butcher on schedule. She survived on saltines and peanut butter, only receiving proper meals on the occasion but never did either of you touched her, or spoke to her.

She squealed as the tip hit her breast, too weak to do more than just scream, he had been so distracted by Homelander he hadn’t noticed the crowbar by the entrance… he could’ve sworn it was his own.

“Families should always have a mommy and a daddy… grandpa and grandma… cousins… but I don’t have any uncles… nor does Ryan have uncles… ahhh” he tugged harder hand fondling the dripping tip of his hardened member– just like that pumpkin.”

His skin crawled at the sight of the awoken thick member as he pulled it out his tight underwear, with a wet snap.

He turned to you, watching her face split red as you smacked her face with the cattle prod, she clutched at her cheek, blood spilling from the sides of her fingers, a distressed mess tried escaping you. You grinned as you felt Homelander excitement, his chest flushed as you gave a parry of messy heavy swings, she cried and as she covered her face you shocked her hands off until your eyes met, turning limp while Butcher’s heart accelerated, craning her neck, she opened her mouth leaving it frozen mid-air as you took to the crowbar.

“Pick a number of teeth … or Pusher will take the whole jaw” he whispered as he laid long languid strokes on his cock, rubbing his thumb on the glistening tip– or you can say yes”

A curved tip pressed right behind her upper chompers.

“One…?” You muttered– that’s not going to excite you right, mi sol?” 

Homelander pouted, slowing down his hand, focusing on the base with short lived pumps.

“Break her jaw– let’s see how long she’ll last before she starves to death… she might dehydrate first, no?” He scoots patting the empty spot on the bed encouraging Butcher to join him— make it clean babe.”

You take the tip out her mouth and get in position to tap her jaw.

“We’ll visit in a week… hope you last my dear William.”

Butcher stood up, still with enough energy in him to fight, he might be dulled by the meds, exhaustion and his captor's cruel tactic.

“Kill her you wanker just bring some fucking fabreeze.”

You grinned mockingly, breaking more than her jaw, her body thud and her voice returned smashing her skull repeatedly caving into a pancake. Homelander groaned, edging himself as your vicious attacks drew your victim closer and closer to death, legs moving on their own, pressing his forehead against the wall, the sight of your bloody torso didn’t just titillate him, he craved the sight, knowing the glass stood between you two, knowing how far away you were and just how untouchable you were was better than any x-rated video, your ragged panting, the sweet sweat falling from the tip of your chin, blood specs bejeweled your body, was too much.

You had become more than he had ever imagined, you pressed your behind against the bloodied wall as you caught your breath.

Butcher could only try to ignore your sick kinks.

Homelander will bring as many innocent people he could and make him take part of their scenes, he whined as you got out the cage, walking painfully slow towards his– ignoring him in favor of the minibar, his hand stopped with a sneer, turning to see that Butcher had skulled down the last of his ale.

“You know he’s being nice asking you… I could just make you say yes…”

Butcher looked back at the mass, almost flinching as the woman was back on her feet, her face a torn mess but there she was still eating the last morsels of the chunky yiros with her torn jaws, for every bit of garlic sauce that dripped down her hands there was an equal amount of chunky blood spilling unto the ground.

Deepthroating the yiros more than eating it.

Her face just hanging by red ribbons, one eye swollen and bulging while the other just hung out of her socket, clumps of broken scalp swinging with the weight of her once straight hair, now dirty and matted.

She turned to see him sensing she had been watched and her face had no bruises.

He looked back at Homelander then back at the corpse now immobile, rotting, fluids escaping its bloated body, gangrenous pus seeping thru its sunken eyes while the skin darkened and dried, now his nose picked up on the revulsion, he looked at his drink and figure out that there was no drug in him– Homelander was back in his bed, his cock tucked in and not a sight that he had moved once, his toothy grin more real than the full cup fizzing in his hand, your breath warming Butcher’s ear.

Months, weeks, days, hours… he had no clue how long he actually been here, this was an illusion… some of it… tragically you two were disgustingly real.

“You want to break me into compliance?”

The white glow of your eyes not as menacing as Homelander's lasers, he took a short sip of his beer letting it dry his tongue, feeling the warm building in his stomach.

Hot fingers creep from around his hips, exploring the softened torso, he is still strong and firm under the weakened body, the illness making it hard to maintain his shape, hot water dampened his shirt, nails bruising trails as he trapped him, pressed tight against the leaner man, craning his neck to place his chin on the older man’s shoulder– no doubt floating to do so.

Before he could protest further, before he could do more than curse under his breath and wriggle, your teeth met the underside of his chin.

Intertwining your hands with his free one, no doubt he could snap your wrist but a little red light shone next to his head, telling it wouldn't be a good idea.

Homelander closed his iron grip around Butcher’s neck, leaving him gasping, feeling his pipe collapse slightly.

Your tongue licked his neck, your touch more gentle, more tender but to his shock Homelander only purred, you both stared at each other lovingly, Butcher’s neck nothing but a barrier between you two, you climbed to meet his lips, while your loved was manhandling Butcher lower so Homelander could give you wet, loud and messy kisses.

Arching him much to his displeasure, the beer spilling down his arm.

Squeezing harder on his neck, Homelander eyes are coloured a pretty dark pink, he grunts pressing Butcher into him, begging for friction.

You two kissed the older man missing his lips, feeling him shudder, kissing the blanket of goosebumps all over his body.

You loved him more than anything.

You would make him happy in all the ways that your body could.

And sometimes things are easier to do when he just communicated them, usually that would involve murder but now it was this.

Butcher had no idea what he had to say yes to. what exactly you two wanted out of him, and he had yet to spot the hidden vial of V in the cabinet.

John giggled as Butcher's hateful glare tried to burn him.

“Is okay… you’ll be the one fucking me…” he needily purrs– right, pumpkin?”

“Just let all that hatred out… make him cry…” you whispered into Butcher’s ear– make him your bitch.”

It had been his own mind that picture the blonde’s cock, that had been his own worst nightmare, but as he felt those needy kisses– be it the beer on an empty stomach, your powers or the tumor pressing on the smart sections of his brain he chortle at the thought, straining his neck to see the desperate flush on the blonde, his grip loosening, allowing him to turn just enough.

This could also be a part of this illusion.

“You just wanted to be daddy’s cute little slut?” he spat– my cum dump?”

Homelander let out the most obscene moan from within the depths of his core, you felt the heat rising from your own loins as you heard him.

Butcher tugged at your scalp, yanking you away from him.

“Both of you are such weird needy bitches… is okay… I’ll make you both into my good little whores.”

Breathy moans, both men eager to see this new game of yours play out, you would make him happy, please him, take care of all his needs… it was easier when you also felt just a tenth of that spark the first time you met William.

Unlike the last ones before these brother’s you would never grow out of love… you had so much to give after all… and he had so much to give you still.

What a bad thing you two were.