#Hope it's coherent. I need sleep lol

[108garys]

What do you think the Clarke Siblings from little Hope are like as Siblings/cousins?

I'm trying to write a fanfic crossover with someone I headcanon as their cousin but it's hard because I've never written them in depth before, lol.

Also love your little doodles of them.

The one with The Reverand the funeral was hilarious.

Thank you, I have fun making those and I just can't unsee it after I put 2+2 about Carson's dialogue

Undercut because it gets long

Onto the question at hand, I imagine the Clarke family is very extensive(I mean I fully believe characters are related to their same face model characters) but as cousins I think it'd first depend on if they live close and who's closest in age, if the other character is imagined to have grown up in little hope and is within a similar age bracket then I could see them having an honorary siblings type status but if they only see them once in a blue moon it may be worth factoring in the Clarke children being adopted. What I mean is without necessarily stating it you could have that distance feel even greater due to character perceptions if you want them to start rocky

Attempting to speak more individualy, Dennis is in a band, plays football and is resident grouch, quick to voice his frustration and obviously boast about his record collection, I've heard him described along the lines of being an odd mix between rebel and conservative, he's very suspicious of new/different things but he's got that whole counter culture garage band thing going on(So picture him as the type of youth that would have been seen as "influenced by devil music" in the satanic panic whilst also very much doing the panicking himself), as a sibling he's shown showing off his music to Anthony and complaining if he defends Megan or Tanya(about Vince), if there's a chance he'd have beef with this other character he's not going to keep his opinions to himself and if he has a more positive relationship I imagine he'd be more casual and layed back but still he's gonna voice his opinion wether it's asked for it not

In contrast Tanya is much more closed off, she has a wall between her home life and her personal life, her family doesn't know about her beliefs and she longs to be away from it all, she dislikes getting involved believing that she'd just make things worse(but that may apply more to her parents), she's still very snarky in her interactions with her brothers and beneath it all she's soft(much like Taylor), I'd say she's very unlikely to reveal her beliefs to extended family and she may see dealing with them as a chore but again I think she'd keep it to herself, unless they just really vibe(tanya's sport is tennis), I'd say that all the in-game clues scattered around the whole town doing alternative stuff would indicate that she gets up to shenanigans and it ties in with her desire for personal freedom and that sense that her home life and personal life are two different things so again I could see her being closer to a hypothetical cousin if for example they'd run off and get up to trouble as kids. I think deep down she'd care for her cousin when it counts tho

For Megan it's a little more complicated, a lot of it depends on if you keep her being mentored by reverend Carson, at the time of the prologue that'd been ongoing for about two years and it's trickier to get a handle on how different she'd be if that was excluded(most likely she'd be a much more normal kid) but in general she'd be that one little cousin that's always getting into trouble as she acts out and gets into stuff that she shouldn't, Megan's issue is that she feels ignored, I feel like she'd probably become a cousin's shadow, especially if they're nice to her. Music is the one subject she's not failing so you could latch onto that if it's relevant

With Anthony he's very snarky/sarcastic but ultimately puts others ahead of himself, he seems to get along with others easily, that being said he also uses James's wording calling their household a mad house, he obviously loves history, he skateboards and plays baseball(crazy I know). Anthony's feelings of being on the outside are less relevant due to that being a post fire development, I'd say if Tanya is quiet rebellion then Anthony is quiet compassion, he expresses a lot of concern for Megan but doesn't approach her instead asking someone else to do it, it's not that he doesn't care so much as its a communication issue, he worries about her and she's unaware so her feelings of being ignored aren't helped. I think he'd get along with a cousin at least on a surface level unless they're a mega jerk, tho he could be a bit awkward depending as usual

I'll admit that I've never gotten an ask like this and I'm unsure how well I answered your question(haven't slept and personally forget my cousins exist from time to time so that may effect my answer)

I'd definitely open this question to others in the little hope fandom as I'm sure you'll get much more useful takes in the reblogs(damn I hope this wasn't too rammbly 😅)

[bbq-potato-chip]

does anyone else think that link is so short because getting the master sword at such a young age stunted him or is it just me

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

Perhaps the only good thing about Percy so far seemingly not having been cast in the show is that -- aside from my fears of what DG and writers would do with him -- I don't have to look at the actor they chose and constantly think how he's not pretty enough to be Percy. 😅

On the other hand, maybe the casting gods would've miraculously blessed us with the perfect amazingly handsome, delicate featured, beautiful-eyed and soft spoken Percy of our dreams and we're being deprived of the pleasure of gazing upon him as we speak...who knows? 😢

Oh, the cruelty of (most likely) never knowing! Sometimes I'm not sure what I want anymore...😭

But I will always love and protect Percy Wainwright, come hell or high water -- that much at least is certain. ❤

[shivunin]

For the character impression ask game: Oghren, and also Alistair 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Have a lovely day!!

Hello and thank you for asking!!

I hope you have a lovely day as well 💗

(Character Ask thing)

Alistair

First impression: I had a vague idea of who he is by the time I played Origins (I played Origins last), but my first impression was something like, "Aww he's just a funny lil guy."

Impression now: I don't think the first impression was inaccurate, but I do think he does a really good job of playing dumb (and I definitely bought it at first). I think it (and the joking) are a defense mechanism that worked well in templar training, so he's carried on doing it. He likes to be underestimated (especially when he does not want to be in charge!) and jokes are only one way he manages others' perceptions of him. It makes me extremely sad to think about how he's been searching for a family all his life, thinks he's found it in the Grey Wardens, and then loses it utterly.

Favorite moment: I really like the conversation that goes with his mother's medallion. Also the eulogy he gives if the HoF dies (I uh...played a Cousland once, they got engaged, and then she died 😬) but it's a really lovely speech.

Idea for a story: I have a loose outline for it, but I have plans for rewriting/writing around the hardening conversation (because I don't think it should happen in just one conversation). I think telling him to stand up for himself shouldn't sound like "get ahold of yourself." Also he and Wen going into the fight with Loghain, which is a scene I've been fiddling with for a while.

Unpopular opinion: If not for Inquisition, I would let him be a Warden. I think he'd be happier. Despite my dislike of Anora, she is a competent ruler. Alistair could absolutely be good at it, too, but I think life with the Wardens would be less isolating.

Favorite relationship: I mean! Wen and Alistair for life. Their friendship means so much to me. But as far as canon dynamics go, I like he and Zev a lot.

Favorite headcanon: I do not believe that Alistair is straight or cis. Not a very detailed headcanon, but there it is.

Oh, also, I like to pretend that he and Fiona get to meet eventually. In my head, that has happened. He deserves to know at least one family member and why their role in his life went down the way it did

Oghren

First impression: Oh cool, dwarf companion! Now I can finally get rid of all this booze I've been carrying for the whole game.

Impression now: Ahh man. Oghren. Could've been such a cool character. Could've supported the themes about being used up and discarded by people in power when you are no longer useful. Unfortunately, the constant sexual harassment is so off-putting that I cannot see past it. I think he's really interesting in theory, but like...his writers were on some nonsense when they put together his dialogue.

Also...the fact that without the gifts in the DLC packs, the only way you can befriend the alcoholic is to give him alcohol...doesn't feel great.

Favorite moment: I think his introduction in the Awakenings DLC is really funny

Idea for a story: Errr well! Wen almost kills him once. On account of the sexual harassment (and the fact that the particular brand of comments he makes really strongly remind her of Vaughan). Also her looming out of the corner of his eye whenever he's running late to visit his kid. He will be a good father or he will pay the price, and that is a threat.

Unpopular opinion: Idk! I think he is definitely a product of his time, so to speak, and the "edgy" tone they were going for accommodated this particular type of toxic masculinity. It's a shame, because I think a frank discussion of addiction and rehabilitation would have been really impactful, but...what can you do?

Favorite relationship: Having just read all of his dialogue with every companion, I am going to have to go with Shale. I think they have some interesting conversations about golems and dwarves.

Favorite headcanon: That he gets clean sometime in the course of Awakening and pulls it together for his family.

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

We Interrupt This Broadcast...

(Another two-part-er! Stay tuned for part 2 very shortly!)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). One comically graphic description of cannibalism (first paragraph). Also, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect a lil angst sprinkled in there (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

Ok... I'm gonna be honest folks, I have no idea if this fic is even coherent. This ain't my Best Work™ - this is literally the coping mechanism I've been relying on to put myself to sleep every night this week because HOLY SHIT my life is stressful at the moment. 😅

But anyway, I've decided I'm just gonna go ahead and post it, because 1) the world needs more lee!alastor, and 2) I'm not here to do my Best Work™, I'm here to write cute self-indulgent little stories about Alastor getting tickled to bits by his platonic wife. I'm here to decompress my hypervigilant ass at the end of long days by imagining my favorite endearingly creepy characters get wrecked by my other favorite endearingly creepy characters.

In summary, I'm here to have a good time, and I certainly did with this fic. So I hope you do too!

Featuring my new oc! (Rosie and Al still take center stage though, don't worry lol)

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It's a little-known fact that cannibals make terrific doctors. When you spend every meal tearing the human body apart with your face, you end up with a pretty comprehensive intuition for demonic anatomy.

So Alastor supposed he should consider himself lucky to have Rosie and her loyal posse so close at hand after his battle with Adam.

He was certainly relieved when Rosie had stumbled upon him, barely conscious from blood loss on the floor of his wrecked radio tower - and especially a few hours later when, having been rushed back to Cannibal Town, he was whisked into a warm, familiar parlor and deposited on a comfy couch.

Within minutes Rosie had summoned a woman in a white coat who swooped in, produced a bottle of a strange, foul-smelling gel from her medicine bag, soaked a rag with it, and pressed it firmly against Alastor's wound. The searing pain evaporated almost on contact.

"What is that?" Alastor breathes, visibly relaxing against the arm of the couch he's propped against.

"Anesthetic." She begins preparing a needle and thread.

"Didn't know such a thing existed down here."

"Of course! We're demons, not barbarians," Rosie scoffs, watching from the sidelines.

Cannibals, as a rule, rarely last long enough to need a doctor, but Rosie is no ordinary cannibal. And Dr. Trudy Sawblade - a young surgical resident in life, and Rosie's personal physician in death - is the best of the best. While she hadn't quite completed her medical training before her untimely death, in Rosie's service she's gained more than enough experience to make up for her education cut short.

"That salve is derived from a distant cousin of the poison dart frog. Evidently most of the frogs are assholes, because hell has an downright enormous population of them." Trudy's voice is measured and matter-of-fact, with a soft lilt that is both soothing and vaguely unsettling. "Haven't been discovered on earth yet. Which is good, because one whiff of this would end a mortal life in a matter of seconds."

"Lucky you, you're already dead," Rosie chimes in cheerfully.

"Lucky me," Alastor murmurs, without conviction.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Truthfully, with the pain from his chest wound numbed, the weight of his recent defeat presses even more heavily on Alastor's heart. Someone - probably one of the cannibals who helped transport him from the rubble pile to Rosie's parlor - must have grabbed the broken microphone as they carried him out, because the fractured pieces are sitting on the side table at the other end of the couch. Under normal circumstances the awareness that someone had touched his staff without permission would spark a flash of rage from the Radio Demon, but now he can only stare dismally at what remains of his cane - aware that it's no longer capable of accomplishing much anyway.

It takes only a few minutes for Trudy to stitch Alastor back up and wrap his chest in a stretchy gauze. Meanwhile, Rosie quickly mends the worst of the tears in his clothes - if only to avoid having to watch her friend stare down the couch at his broken staff, with an uncharacteristic half-smile that damn near breaks her heart.

"Alright, sir, that should do it for now. It's a nasty gash, for sure, but the salve should keep it from getting infected."

"Thank you, my dear." He gives an appreciative nod to the surgeon, and Rosie too, as his fellow overlord hands him back his clothes.

"Can't have you going around with a big hole in your chest, can we?" Rosie steps back and scrutinizes her own patch job as he slowly dresses himself again. "It ain't perfect... especially for a classy fellow like you. But I'm sorry to report that I saw my tailor at a Sunday brunch just last week. Inconvenient, but I gotta admit, he made a wonderful casserole."

For the briefest of moments, this aside manages to tweak Alastor's smile into something vaguely genuine. "I'm sure he did."

"One more thing, Mr. Alastor, sir," Trudy jumps in as the radio demon pulls on his coat. "So sorry, I almost forgot. The angel also threw you against a wall, correct?"

At the recollection, Alastor's smile stiffens into something more closely resembling a grimace. His antlers rise between his ears. "Does it matter?"

"You may be at risk for internal injuries." If Trudy is at all fazed by inviting the most powerful overlord in hell's annoyance, it doesn't show. "I really ought to check, just to be safe."

Alastor looks away. As loathe as he is to even acknowledge his own fragility, he truly isn't sure of the extent of his own injuries - given that he's not used to receiving them in the first place. And he'd be damned (well, damned twice) if Adam had ruptured something vital, spelling the radio demon's second death a few hours after the fact.

He grits his teeth. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Lovely. If you could just lie back, sir..." As he obliges, she kneels beside the couch. "I'm just going to feel for any swelling..." Her hands hover over him-

"Er, wait." Alastor abruptly sits up.

"It's alright, I won't touch your wound!" Trudy soothes. "I'll just be feeling down here..." She gestures to his midsection (which elicits a sharp flinch).

"No, I-" He hesitates. "I'm... not sure this is necessary."

"Oh, Alastor, stop worryin'!" Rosie reassures him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Trudy is quite picky about her meals. She'd never go for venison."

"That's... not what..."

Alastor pauses, and evidently decides against trying to explain what he meant. He reluctantly lies back against the cushions again.

"I'm going to place my hands under your shirt, sir. If you feel any pain, please alert me."

"Very well."

As Trudy lifts his shirt, he looks like he is going to say something more - but whatever it is dies on his tongue the moment her hands make contact with his stomach. He brings one knee up sharply.

"Tender there, sir?"

"No! No, your hands are cold." His words have gone uncharacteristically stiff.

Trudy methodically probes one side of his belly, then the other (which in turn causes his other knee to pop up). This time when Trudy asks if he's in pain, he merely shakes his head.

The surgeon furrows her brow, concentrating. Human-animal hybrids like Alastor already take a bit of poking around just to get a sense for each unique configuration of organs. It doesn't help that the man is bracing for every touch...

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt, sir?" she murmurs tentatively. "You're very tense."

"Yes." The word comes out like a hiss. She glances at the radio demon's face. He's wearing his typical showman's smile, but his eyes are fixed on the ceiling with a weird, wide, unwavering stare.

Finally the surgeon sits back. "Well, I don't feel anything concerning. But to be honest, sir, I can't feel much of anything." She turns apologetically to her employer. "His stomach is all clenched up..."

But Rosie is simply standing there pressing a huge grin into her glove. She's known Alastor for decades. She can read his expressions like a magazine.

"Alastor, darling," Rosie drawls casually. "Are you ticklish?"

From the radio demon's reaction, you'd think she'd asked if he was an Exorcist. He scrambles to sit up. "No! Why would-"

"You're ticklish. That's..." She catches herself just before the word precious.

"...What?!" There's an edge of defensiveness to his voice that Rosie very rarely hears from him.

"Why are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not emb- That's not- what-" Oh, she's giving him that look. "I'm just- I wasn't-"

As he speaks, Alastor's voice suddenly goes thin. His gaze turns inward. "I'm stuttering. I don't stutter! I've never stuttered!" He clutches his coat closer around himself. "I am the RADIO DEMON, for heaven's sake, I don't sta-AHH! Haha-!"

Evidently a scribble to the ribs is a very effective way to interrupt a panicking demon. Rosie runs her fingers from his hip up his side to his arm and back a couple times for good measure.

The amount of startled laughter she is able to draw from just this surprise touch delights her - the poor man is so ridiculously sensitive that a five-second one-handed tickle leaves him fully breathless.

"Okay! Okay, okahay! Keheh- Rosie!"

"Sorry dear, couldn't resist." She holds her hands up, still beaming like a stadium light. "I'll stop torturing you."

Alastor clears his throat. "You're not torturing me, dearest." He straightens his bowtie, clearly attempting to salvage his dignity. "You know what I always say, laughter is a powerful sign of-"

He cuts off with a sharp inhale and defensive flinch as Rosie perches on the edge of the sofa beside Trudy. She grins.

"You're right. That's certainly your specialty, isn't it?"

Alastor forces a nervous chuckle. "Never fully dressed without a smile, you know."

"Well don't worry, darling. I understand." She pats his knee. "Just because you've got the scariest evil cackle in hell doesn't mean you appreciate having it tickled out of you."

Rosie had expected this assurance to put him at ease, but if anything, he seems more troubled.

"Why would I mind a little, ah..." Tickling. Tick-ling. He can't bring himself to articulate two syllables. Is this all he's left with without his staff? "...Er, a little bit of levity? Can't let things get too serious, can we?" With another quick cough, the radio demon finally manages to get his voice to fall back into his familiar breezy cadence. He turns to Trudy. "Now, are we... quite finished with that examination?"

"Nothing seems amiss, from what I can feel." Trudy takes a step back. "Which is not much, but I think I've already made you uncomfortable enough..."

"Nonsense! I'm perfectly at ease!" He lies back again and smooths his coat. "Please, finish your little checkup. I insist."

Trudy regards him curiously for a moment. "Right." Her hands hover over his belly again. "But if you want me to stop, sir, just say the word-"

"I assure you that w-won't be necessahary..."

Trudy watches him seize up before her fingers even make contact. This time she presses a little deeper into his belly, trying to feel around his defensiveness.

"You are punching holes in my couch," Rosie remarks dryly, watching the poor demon's claws bury themselves in the cushions.

"I kn... ohow, I'm just-" He squeezes his eyes shut as Trudy hits a particularly bad spot. And then another. And another... hell, his torso one big bad spot.

"What do you think, Trudy?"

The young doctor just shakes her head.

"Alastor. Darling. You have GOT to relax."

"I am!" Alastor's composure is dangling by the thinnest of threads.

"Maybe it would help," Trudy says, with infinite caution, "to just go ahead and laugh, sir."

A beat. And then Rosie bursts into laughter.

"Giving new meaning to the 'deer in the headlights' expression, my friend." She scoots closer. "I thought you just said you don't mind a little 'levity'..."

"I don't!"

"In that case. Carry on, Trudy - Auntie Rosie is gonna help our patient out a bit while you work."

Too late, Alastor realizes what his fellow overlord has in mind. "Wait, wait! Ros-"

A delicate set of nails find the region just under his ribs - and it's all downhill from there.

"Ah! Fuhuck!" Alastor chokes on a curse before he can catch himself. He twists sideways, collapses into muffled giggles, and briefly manages to pull himself together - just barely - with a few hyperventilated breaths. "Rosie, really! This isn't- please- ack! I can't-" There's that damn stutter again. He hadn't even stuttered when Adam slashed him.

And now, Great Alastor the Radio Demon, undone by some scribbles? And a medical exam?!

Meanwhile, Trudy can feel even less now than she could before, her patient's belly now quaking with silent, suppressed mirth. But she takes one look at Rosie's delighted expression... and continues probing anyway, curling a subtle little smirk of her own.

It seems Rosie has picked up on a slightly less tangible injury than anything Trudy can address. But fortunately, they've just stumbled upon a promising potential treatment.

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Part 2 is already pretty much finished - my brain is just too mushy at this point to contend with Tumblr's shitty text interface any longer, and this feels like a good stopping point.

Lemme get a good night sleep and another dose of Prozac and I'll have the rest out shortly 😅

💜 - Cozy

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part II

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6900 (haha.. whoops again) Warnings: suggestive, swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, death, blood drinking, combat

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here

Summary: Set in Act II (pre-Moonrise Towers), Astarion and Tav/Reader wake up in the Last Light Inn after he makes amends. Astarion begins to realize what he is feeling for Tav/Reader is different then anything he has every felt before, and it is a continuous internal battle for him in more ways than one.

Notes: This is still a GN!Reader/Tav in second perspective with no names or y/n. The backstory established in chapter 1 still continues — Reader/Tav is Selûne blessed; noble with only a few specific appearance descriptors used (silver hair/star like freckles). This update is a combination of like 3 little daily headcannon dreams I had while playing the game the first time, and I felt like they all flowed so well together to create what would be a series of moments for Astarion to realize he was indeed falling for Tav before his confession scene that happens after Moonrise towers!

I hope to write more for this specific pairing, as I want to add even more to the confession scene from Astarion. And also the resolution for Reader and Shadowheart. I know how it all ends in my head, but I am loving writing it out and sharing with you all! ♡♡♡

P.S.: I keep slipping little Shadowheart x Karlach moments in... because I love the idea of them being together. But you can take it however you want to LOL.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

Astarion blinked awake, slowly, peacefully. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. He usually bolted awake on instinct after finishing his trance.

But this morning he was greeted by a comfortable silence. Stretching his neck, he smiled as he took in your still sleeping form — hair tousled with sleep. One hand clutching your pillow while the other rested near his own, outstretched. Had you held his hand as you were sleeping? He couldn’t recall once he had fallen into his trance.

As if sensing him looking at you, your eyes fluttered open before your lips curved softly at the sight of him.

It made his half-dead heart flutter.

“You talk in your sleep.” You mumbled with a voice still hoarse and drowsy.

“I do? What did I say?” A knot formed in his stomach as he thought of the possibilities — the damning things he could have said.

“It was mostly muttering. You weren’t very coherent… but you sounded afraid. So I…” You flexed your fingers next to his own hand before trailing off.

You had reached out to comfort him whilst he slept. He swallowed as he looked at both of your hands still stretched out to the middle. Before he pulled it back, intertwining it with his other one laying on chest. “Apologies. I’ve never had a bed partner before… You must have slept terribly.”

“No, not at all. I haven’t sleep this well in months actually.” You said as you stretched your arms over your head, starting to sit up on the soft mattress.

Astarion agreed silently in his head. Not that he would admit it so freely out loud.

The pair of you sat in silence for a moment, your bodies still slightly laid across the mattress as you tried to will yourselves to start the day. Occasionally, he could feel you glance over to him. After mustering up some courage, he looked over at you with his red eyes round and vulnerable.

You studied the features of his face for a moment, before your eyebrows crinkled. “You must be starving. You haven’t fed.”

“No… but I’ll be fine. I’m sure some evil cultist will pull a sword on us and I will get to shred their throat.” He let out his nervous laugh, but the burning in his throat was uncomfortable.

“Astarion. You need but ask—“

“I can’t — I couldn’t.” Not after how he had acted last night. The shame that had ripped through him still lingered, his skin turning hot again as he remembered.

Then you were closing the empty space between, shuffling on your knees across the mattress as you got closer to him. “You need it to survive, you can’t help it that you’re—“

“A monster?” His lips curled, before he flashed his face away from you.

Your voice was quiet, laced with an ache he couldn’t understand. “I don’t think you’re a monster. Have I made you feel like one?”

He thought of your face that fateful night when you learned what he truly was. Surprise had flickered across your face, but never fear or hatred. You had quickly turned the tables as you were then calming him down. As if you hadn’t just woken up to him looming over you, fangs bared like a wild animal.

You hadn’t treated him any differently at all. Perhaps you asked a few curious questions and graced him with some teasing with that sharp tongue of yours. But you had believed him and accepted him as he was. Trusted him.

He wanted to hate you for it. For not seeing him as a wild, dangerous creature. For not just treating him like every other person did when they realized what he truly was.

It would be easier — to hate you.

But he couldn’t. He would never.

“No. You haven’t.”

“Astarion,” You grabbed onto his wrist delicately, your touch featherlight and a bit hesitant. “Feed.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“I do.” You laid back out onto the bed, stretching out your neck for him. He swallowed, already eyeing your pulse point that was beckoning him closer.

His throat bobbed up and down as he pushed his blankets aside and eliminated the lingering space left between you. His fingertips brushed over the puncture wounds that lingered on your neck now — he had committed to always feeding from the same spot, so to avoid further marking your perfect form. His fingers trailed up your jawline, your cheekbones and into your hairline. “You’re too good to me,” He murmured into your skin, pressing a soft kiss on your neck. Surprised by his own intimacy, he pulled back to look you in the eye. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, fisting the sheet you laid on in preparation.

Astarion moved his body half over yours and sunk his teeth in, piercing through the soft flesh until your hot blood rushed into his mouth. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as the sweet taste flooded all of his senses.

But he had become better at it — not as frantic as his first time. Not as desperate. One of his hands lingered in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist carefully as he pulled himself closer into you. The thin fabric of your nightclothes let him feel your warm, soft skin beneath.

The thundering of your heart was echoing in his ears and down into his own chest. But your shallow breaths were acting as a timer. He needed to stay aware of you, to not push you or your body too far. He became increasingly aware of your hands tightening in the sheets and toes curling as you let out a whimper. Both pain and pleasure intermixed.

He realized that so often while he had fed from you, the lines got blurred. Lately, you both had been buried deep in each other whilst he was sucking and lapping at your neck — bringing you both into bliss for very different reasons. And though those moments with you did bring him into euphoria, something no one else’s touch or body had done in a century, it still brought that familiar tremble. A single thought that spoiled the high and made him wish he could peel off his skin.

He didn’t want to cross that line today, not if he didn’t have to.

With a gasp, he pulled away from your neck. He lingered close to it for a moment, breathing in your scent once more before licking at the punctures to stop any lingering blood from pooling out. Sitting back up, his tongue went over his lips and teeth cleaning up the red stains. “Are you alright?”

Your voice was a gentle whisper, purposefully calm to reassure him. “Yes. Are you?”

“Feeling better already.” He wiped at the corners of his mouth carefully, before asking, “Do you need — would you like me to make you feel better?”

“It’s nothing that my amulet and a strong cup of tea won’t fix.” You gripped the edge of the bed as you sat up, fingers already clasping at the golden amulet glittering off of your neck — it glowed slightly at your touch. The colour slowly returned to your cheeks, and the open puncture marks closed — leaving behind the purple-red bruises from his mouth and small scars from his fangs.

“Right. But I got mine… do you want yours too?” His pale fingers swirled nervously on his own knee.

“Astarion, this isn’t transactional.” You said with a shake of your head.

No, that couldn’t be. Everything had a cost, everything was an exchange. He knew that, he lived by that.

“What?” A bewildering look crossed his face, his head cocked to the side. He was sure he hadn’t heard you right.

But you said firmly, “I don’t expect anything in return. Not ever.”

“Then why in the heavens do you let me do this!?” He asked exasperatedly, his voice a little louder than he intended.

You took a large breath before staring back into his eyes, your stare and voice unwavering. “Because I care about you. And you told me heartbreaking stories of how you spent years eating rats and bugs. Being tortured and cut into. I may not ever truly know what you went through Astarion… but I understand. So every moment that I spend with you, I want to show you the opposite.”

“Someone will take advantage of that you know. Take advantage of you —that goodness you insist on.” Your blood in his stomach turned sour, as he knew that someone was him.

“I know. They have and they will. But I will not change my mind on this. And despite what you think or expect, I will not treat you like a monster or a thing. You are a person, albeit a complicated one, but aren’t we all.”

He blinked at your sudden outburst, mouth open slightly as his mind scrambled for some witty response, some quick line. But he failed too as you continued your admission.

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Not just the drawings I gave to you when you told me you wished to see your reflection…,” Those charcoal drawings of his face were carefully tucked into the pages of a leather book in his pack. His most prized possession. “One day, when you are ready to hear it I will tell you.”

Astarion remained silent. He was gobsmacked, his eyes wide. He felt like he was still processing, his mind sputtering and his heart thundering from your confessions. You cared for him? You understood him? And there was more to hear? Whenever he was ready… whatever that meant.

The only attachment he had planned for was your bodies intertwining in a false passion. Not that it had been very fake as of late… But everything else.

Astarion was suddenly very out of his element.

“Have a left you speechless, my dear? Maybe I should make unprompted speeches more often.” You smirked, though your face flushed a brilliant shade. He had been silent for too long, so you had tried to make things light and airy.

He slipped back into his usual cadence as his face broke into a grin, a dark chuckle escaping him. “So vicious, darling. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

He prayed he wasn’t.

• • •

It was a hard few days in the Shadowlands, searching for a way to break the curse and edging ever closer to Moonrise Towers.

It was brutal here, punishing. Each turn more dangerous than the next.

There were no animals for him to feed on, so Astarion sheepishly continued to accept your offers. And there was no exchange as you promised, except quiet gratitude from him and an even more quiet understanding from you.

It was bewildering and mystifying. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why you would choose to do that for him.

He could understand you jumping to the aid and rescue of the Tiefling children, helpless animals, the young couples desperately in love. They were good, they were pure.

But he was none of those things. He was wretched and broken. He craved violence and vengeance. His touch was a curse for you both. And he had used you, manipulated you. And maybe you knew it.

Yet you were still there.

And the cursed lands kept reminding him of that.

Everywhere they looked he seemed to find pairs. Engraved wedding rings enchanted to protect the other. Skeleton couples laid next to each other in their final moments. Like the pair that died on the rooftop, their boney fingers still intertwined. The handwritten poems cataloging the love they held for each other sat next to them, like they had whispered it to each other before their last breaths. 

You had found the poems first, a soft look on your face as you read it to the group — your tender voice breaking as you neared the end of the last poem, their final declaration of love even in death. Astarion had to look away as you finished it, his half-dead heart thumping in his chest as he heard you speak the proclamation. He wouldn't allow his mind to even start to imagine you saying such things to him. 

Lae’zel’s huffs broke the moment, demanding they get a move on and head back to camp already. The group blinked back to reality, before turning on their heels to go.

You walked ahead of him as the group began to backtrack to camp, tucking the book of poems into your pack with a gentle touch.

Astarion’s thoughts had been consumed by you for sometime now. For longer then he had realized. Perhaps from the moment he met you. He sometimes wondered what about you had kept him so captivated. Why he picked you to feed on, or to be the unsuspecting member of his plan.

He could have picked Wyll — he was noble and honorable, prone to jump into the thick of things to save an innocent or a friend. Loyal to a fault. And he was quite handsome too. Like the princes he dreamed to marry when he was a boy.

But no, it was you he was drawn to. His little moon.

He had realized that he ached for something he had never known, and had never before believed truly existed — that it was only invented to be seen in plays or read in prose and poetry. But now he longed for it with you.

When he was cursed to this life of a bloodsucking monster, of a vampire, he quickly realized that he would always feel hungry. That he could have his fill of blood and still be starving. He could drain this merry party dry and still feel that prick in his throat and pang in his belly.

What he didn’t realize was that the curse Cazador bestowed to him was so much more. Not just an endless bloodlust, not just waking nightmares and endless torment. But that he could long and ache for companionship, attachment, love. But that he would never take it for himself. That he would always be both starving and empty.

Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Not after the things he’d done, in this life and his old one. Not after what he had become. He didn’t deserve you — someone so good that a literal goddess had blessed you with their power. Someone whose voice turned gentle as their fingers trailed lines of poetry. Someone who would offer themselves up to a monster, just to make them feel whole again.

You deserved someone bright and unbroken. Who could give and receive touch as freely as breathing air. Who knew that true companionship wasn't some fantasy invented for the arts, that love was more then sex and flattery. Who could one day also lay beside you, willing to accept what fate becomes them and turn to bone. Not a half-dead creature like him.

He knew he would cease his foolish plan. He couldn’t use you as bait nor a shield, not anymore. You deserved better than that. What that meant for him… he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps he should confess to his plan too. As a final way to make you understand what a manipulative bastard he truly was. To push you away. It would hurt less than to confess what his heart wished for, but his mind knew he could never have.

The path the group was walking along was overgrown with thorns and vines. A specific darkness plagued the route, and it was barely dulled from the magical glow of the party’s several spells and enchantments. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his red eyes darting around them — searching.

It happened in an instant — the shadows silent and invisible until it was too late. The creatures appeared with a sudden flash, long curling claws slashing into your side — catching you unawares. Your shout of pain alerted the rest of the party, everyone drawing their weapons quickly.

Astarion went to the enchanted daggers at his side, hurling them through the air with easy precision as they found their target. They boomeranged back to him, sliding into his waiting palms. He had gotten rid of one, but there were way more than usual. Wherever they had stumbled into, it was not good.

“Shit!” Karlach swore loudly as more shadows appeared after the ones they downed. Continuing to converge around you, drawn to your huffs of pain and blood. Your blood, the scent that was usually so sweet in his nose but now had dropped an anchor in his stomach. There was too much of it, much too fast.

“Watch out!” Wyll shouted in warning to the vampire, before sending several of his powerful red blasts soaring out of his hands.

With a glance to his side, the rogue twirled around Lae’zel’s strong, cleaving swing with ease before releasing his daggers once again at the creatures advancing on you. But he threw them a moment too late — their clawed strikes sinking deep into you before the magical daggers ripped through them and back into his hands.

The sound of your knees crashing into paved stones made Astarion's teeth chatter. His heart lurched into his throat, your name choking out of him as he screamed. He had never moved so fast — it almost seemed like he had blinked across the battlefield like Gale so often did.

“RAHHHHH!” The booming roar of Karlach echoed in his ears as she raged from seeing you fall. The rest of the party converging on the remaining shadow creatures attempting to surround your unconscious body, moving in sync with each other with a deadly precision.

Knowing that those creatures were being taken care off, Astarion fell to his knees next to you — his pale hands grabbing onto your shoulders. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You didn’t stir, your head and limbs shaking loosely as he moved you. He dragged your head onto his lap, before unbuckling the holster on his belt. He tipped the the precious red liquid from the healing potion between your lips. He said your name, running his thumb across your face.

You didn’t stir.

“Darling?”

His red eyes studied you, your face looking lack luster and eyes remaining closed. Your hands laying limply at your side, unmoving. He couldn’t hear the familiar thrum of your heart.

No, no, no, no.

“Astarion?!” Gale shouted, his voice exhausted and strained as he split his concentration just enough to check on you two.

The world tilted as the wizard instead shouted for you. But you couldn’t respond... because you were —

“You can’t die, dammit!”

Suddenly, you were all bathed in a golden light for a moment as Shadowheart brought down a thunderous strike of radiant energy, defeating the remaining shadow creatures as they shrieked in pain. Then the sound of thudding metal and footsteps as the party surged forward to you, panting for breath.

Wyll’s eyes went wide with worry as he saw you unmoving, his hand covering his mouth,“ Are they—?”

Astarion looked up at his party with bleary eyes, his hands trembling as he held your face on his lap. “They won’t wake up. I tried, I gave them a potion and they—“

“Oh gods.” The Blade choked out, his face immediately crumpling.

Gale shook his head, immediately dumping the contents of his side satchel onto the dirt. Scrambling through them, “No, no, we can do more! I’ll have a scroll or, or — Shadowheart!!”

The cleric had remained in the back, her face half covered in shadow. Her nostrils flared as she looked down at you. But she made no move forward.

Astarion’s red eyes pierced through her, before narrowing, “Bring them back.”

She didn’t move, her face blank. “My goddess will not allow it.”

“Princess! What are you talking about?” Karlach tried to grab her hand, but Shadowheart pulled away. “It’s Giggles!

Her black braid swayed back and forth as she shook her head, taking one step back. “She is Shar’s enemy. She is my enemy.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your goddess.” The vampire spat, his lips curling, “Bring. Them. Back.”

“I—" A moment of hesitation as her voice shook and her eyebrows furrowed.

Gale let out a shaky breath, his fingers pushing back his long hair. His brown eyes were shining with fear. “I have no scroll, I—“

“We are running out of time!” Lae’zel finally spoke out, glaring at Shadowheart. “Do something now, istik.”

Astarion voice was deadly, his fangs baring as he shout out. “If you don’t do this. If you let them die— I will hunt you down and become your worst nightmare. I will fucking haunt you! BRING. THEM. BACK.”

“Shadowheart, please.” Karlach whispered, finally getting ahold of the half-elf’s hand.

Conflict flickered across her face, before she stepped forward. She crouched next to you, bowing her head as her hands began to glow with golden light. Her small hands rested on your unmoving chest, before the light disappeared into you.

A loud gasp escaped you as come back to life. Your hands finding purchase in the dirt as your eyes snapped open wide with fear and uncertainty.

Astarion let out a loud breath, tipping his head back with a silent thank you to anything that was listening.

The sigh of relief echoed throughout the entire party. Minus the dark haired cleric, who stood up quietly. Her throat bobbed as a hard to read look crossed her face and she backed away.

“I— what, what happened?” You asked groggily, your eyebrows meeting in the middle from confusion.

“You scared us Giggles.” Karlach sniffed, “Thought we’d lost you for a second there…”

“I… I was gone?” You craned your neck, looking up at Astarion, alarm etching every feature of your face.

He opened his mouth, but no words could come out. Fear and panic still held a tight grasp around his throat.

“For but a moment.” Gale stepped forward, his voice practiced but reassuring. “Shadowheart brought you back.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as you fought instant tears, before you croaked out, “Thank you.”

A quiet grunt is all you got in reply from her.

You sat up gingerly, Astarion grabbing your elbow to steady you. Your blood and the strange ichor from the shadowy creatures was clingy to your clothes. You were shivering — a combination of the cold and from the knowledge that just mere moments ago you had been dead. The vampire had undone the clasp of his cloak and was wrapping it around you before you could say no.

“I think it’s best we head to camp. We will take the paths we know.” Gale spoke up first, gathering the contents of his satchel that he had spilled across the ground.

Karlach took your pack from you, slinging it across her back with ease. “Fangs, help me get them up.”

He rushed to his feet, gently pulling you up with him. You swayed for a moment, but your fingers tightly found his forearm to keep you steady. “Thank you,” You breathed.

Him and Karlach slowed their pace to match your weak steps as you walked between their sides, both of their arms wrapped around your waist. Gale was leading the way with Wyll at his side, his staff a shining beacon as the two kept their heads on a constant swivel. Lae’zel brought up the rear, her sword remained out as her eyes narrowed on the huddled form of Shadowheart. The cleric’s arms were hugging herself as she kept her eyes on her boots.

Astarion couldn’t help but count your heartbeats, the rhythm now steady and thumping like normal. He needed to recommit the sound to memory. If only to drown out the reoccurring one of hearing it stop.

• • •

You were much quieter than usual, the lute you would strum by the campfire abandoned. Your eyes were blank as you stared into the flames, licking and dancing across the logs. You were miles away, your half-full dinner plate forgotten at your feet and now licked clean by the camp dog and owlbear.

Shadowheart and Karlach had almost immediately retired to the latter’s tent — still in there now, speaking in hushed whispers that even Astarion’s elven ears could not pick up. Lae’zel was sitting on her perpetual watch, her sword balanced across her knee as she polished it. Wyll sat closest to the fire, using the warm light to inspect a map of Moonrise Towers you had found today — making marks and notes, strategizing the best way to rescue the lost Tieflings and his father. Gale was dutifully at your side, sharing the log bench and reading quietly — his mage hand holding the book up for him and turning the pages.

Astarion watched from a far, sitting at his own tent. He was not interested in feigning conversation. But he wasn’t interested in his own activities either — the book he had open on his lap had been on the same page since he first sat down. Instead, he was watching you carefully.

The scene from earlier in the day was repeating in his mind, he couldn’t shut it out. Not just the sound of your heart stopping, or the scent of your life blood draining out of you. But how you had clutched to him as you journeyed back to camp. That the trembling in your lip would stop when he looked over to give you reassurance.

You had slipped into a deep shock when you arrived in the familiar comforts of camp, almost instantly dissociating once you breached your group’s makeshift home. Gale had swooped in then, his mother-hen behavior taking over as he ordered you to change while he cooked.

So, the vampire had slipped away. Disappointed to no longer be needed. Wishing he too could dissociate or play healer or anything, something to just stop his racing thoughts and pained heart.

His pointed ears perked as you spoke.

“I’m going to go for a walk along the river.” You said suddenly, breaking the quiet that had been settled around the camp for hours. You braced your hands on your knees as you stood up from the bench.

“Do you need company?” Gale asked from your side, already starting to stand up to join you.

“I’m okay, just going to the dock… to collect my thoughts.” You didn’t notice the hurt in the wizard’s eyes as you rejected him. No, your eyes were searching around the camp, looking for something. Someone.

They settled on Astarion.

He raised a single white eyebrow, your eyes never straying from his. A silent invitation, maybe? To join you on the dock.

You gave the smallest indication, a tilt of your head that anyone else would have missed. Then you were off, heading across the camp before turning toward the tree line closest to the river.

He waited for a moment, as to not make it obvious. Perhaps to spare Gale’s feelings, that you had silently asked him to go, and not the wizard.

“Off to get lucky?” Wyll asked as the vampire marched by.

“Wh—what?” He stuttered, steps faltering as he turned to look at his companion still sat on the dirt by the fire.

“Gonna try your luck with a hunt?” The warlock rephrased, looking up from his stacks of maps and parchment.

“Oh. Yes. That’s it, ‘hunting’.” He waved his hands and did a funny little bow, before turning on his heel. When had he become such a terrible liar?

With a practiced lazy grin, he bid the rest of his companions a quick farewell before following the trail into the tree line as you did.

The docks weren’t far from camp. A few minutes journey down a well-walked dirt path through the sparse woods led him to the quiet river.

You were already sat on the wooden dock, your boots half hazardously tossed behind you and your feet hanging in the water. Your head was tipped back, arms stretched behind you as you seemingly basked in the silence. Astarion made purposeful loud steps, causing the wood planks to creak. To announce himself, to avoid startling you.

You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Instead you merely opened your mouth to speak, “Hello, Astarion.”

Oh, how he loved it when you said his name like that. Like you had been waiting for only him.

“Darling.” He drawled from behind, standing carefully next to you.

You turned your face so you were now looking up at him instead of the dark sky, “Thank you for knowing I wanted you here. I didn’t want to announce it.“

A smirk quirked his lips, “Good, I can still read you then.”

You looked at him quizzically, “Have you been having difficulty doing that lately?”

“You…, He cleared his throat, “You have been keeping me on my toes, yes.”

A cheeky smile spread across your face, your eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, you must hate that.”

Yes, he did. He rolled his red eyes at you, “I certainly haven’t been bored since I met you.”

You both let out chuckles, before you patted the spot next to you on the dock. “Sit with me?”

He joined you, removing his own boots and rolling up his pants to sink his legs in the water. But then he paused, his pale feet hovering above the blue water. “What creatures lurk in this river, do we know?”

“Oh, don’t be a scaredy-cat.”

Astarion huffed before placing his feet in. He hissed from the cold temperature, but after a moment it felt refreshing on his tired and sore feet. A relaxed sigh escaped him, and his shoulders lowered slightly.

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Then he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but was careful to not get caught. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked at the question. “I— I’m not sure how to answer that. Okay, I think. Are you?”

“You scared me today.” He admitted without thinking, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your fingers kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to… Just never do that again, ok? I know you did nothing wrong and you were just standing there but don’t ever put yourself in a situation like that again.”

Your brows met in the middle, your mouth turning into a frown. “The path we are on is a dangerous one, Astarion… I can’t—“

“No. Nothing can happen to you. I won’t allow it.” His voice cracked, so he swallowed some of the emotion down. “So stay at the back, behind me, I don’t know. But I will not witness what I did today again, you understand me?”

“Okay,” You submitted with a nod, “It’s all still very hazy for me…”

“It was terrifying. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that.” He chewed his inner lip, surprised at the confession that had just hurled out him.

A haggard breath left you, before you abruptly stood up. You started to fumble with the buckle of your pants, staring out into the river as you took it off and tossed it behind you.

He watched you with confusion, “What in the hells are you doing?”

“I want to, I don’t know, feel alive. I need to reset. I can’t get the feeling I had when I came back out of my chest.” Astarion knew that feeling, had felt that feeling. And it still resurfaced sometimes.

You peeled off your shirt next, then your trousers, the clothes falling in a small pile at your feet — until you were suddenly stark naked standing on the edge of the dock.

Astarion did his best to hide his awe at you, standing confidently above him — completely nude and bathed in the dim evening light. You stood there for a moment, your chest rising and falling as you took quick breaths. “Well?”

With a sudden leap you jumped into the water, a joyful yelp escaping you as you splashed into it.

“Have you gone mad?!” He asked after you, holding his hands up in defense of the cold water that splashed from your movements.

“Yes! Join me in my madness.” You said with a loud laugh, the musical sound ringing in his ears. You threw your head back, your bare chest exposed as you flopped backwards and began to float in the water.

He looked at you like you were demented. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Astarion, come in. There are no ghouls or creatures. It’s nice.”

He set his jaw, his words coming through his gritted teeth. “I can’t — I haven’t swam in two hundred years.”

“Oh.” You realized, before standing in the water to show him, “It’s like the baths we took near the grove. You can touch the bottom, I’ll help you.”

His red eyes couldn’t resist roaming your wet figure, backlit in the evening light in front of him. Then he snapped his eyes away, turning his nose up, “You’re intolerable.”

“You love it. Now get that stubborn, pale ass in here.”

The vampire huffed as he stood up, “Hmmph, it’s a good thing you’re pretty, you know. Or everyone would reconsider why they condone your behavior.”

You flashed him a smile, before turning around and dunking your head into the water — giving him privacy to undress.

The vampire slid off his clothes, carefully piling them next to yours before staring down into the dark blue water.

Fun. That’s what you were searching for. Just a moment, a thrill. It wasn’t a distraction like what he had tried to do in the Last Light Inn. It was.. an escape. He could do that for you. It was probably one of the few things he could afford you.

“Oh hells,” He hissed through his teeth before jumping in after you.

Even as a cold-blooded creature, the water was a shock to his whole system. He felt goosebumps cover all of his flesh, his muscles drawing taught from shock. But as he surfaced and saw the delight flickering in your eyes, he instantly warmed. “Are you happy now, you wretched little thing?”

You didn’t reply, instead grinning and nodding childishly.

“Good.” He smiled back, “Now, what?” His feet could indeed reach the bottom, he stood in it, the water gently moving over his shoulders and collarbones in the lazy current. It was nice, but foreign — a sensation he was still trying to grow used to after all this time.

You bit your lip and shrugged, beginning to swim in a slow circle around him. Before sending a large splash of water over him.

“My hair!” He cried out, before his eyes narrowed and settled on you. “You minx, you’ll pay for that.”

Another laugh escaped you as you tried to outmaneuver him, your wet arm slipping through his hand as he tried to grab you. So he instead launched a counter wave back at you, splashing water across the back of your head.

“Muahaha!” The vampire let out, his grin spreading across all of his features.

Your smile was contagious, addicting. He could feel strain on his face from his own smile as he laughed with you, the longest a genuine one had been plastered on his face for centuries. The two you played in the shallow river, splashing and shrieking like children. It was liberating, he had never felt more free. Not even the day when he had realized he hadn’t perished from the sun’s attention. This was somehow better.

His wet, pale hand caught your wrist as you went to slide past him in your game of chase. You swallowed slowly, your plump mouth hanging open slightly as he tugged your closer to him — drawing you nearer until you were face to face.

Your eyes were hooded, staring at his mouth. But not possessively, not with the hunger and objectification he was used to. But with longing? How long had you been looking at him like this?

He tilted his head forward, meeting you halfway as yours lips pressed into his carefully. A soft groan escaped you as you felt him kiss you back.

His pale fingers grabbed your naked waist, pulling you into him so your bodies were flush — your chest cold and hard from the water pressed into his own. His fingertips dug into your fleshy side as you deepened the kiss, opening your mouth to him. Your hands trailed up chest, your fingers tips playing with the sensitive skin on the nape of his neck and moving into his hair. Your touch gentle yet firm — it was maddening.

It had been sometime since you’d touched each other like this, but there was something different tonight. Arousal was flooding through him, his lower belly tightening and warming as he hardened against your thigh. Gods, did he want you right now. And not to perform, not his almost ritualistic routine for Cazador’s prey. He just wanted you, needed you for only himself.

As he felt you push into him more, a low moan escaped him.

But then he felt a familiar shiver travel up his spine, disgust — not at you, or him. But at the tainted act. Haunting memories of back alleys and side rooms flooded through him.

Gods dammit.

He had wanted this — to kiss you, to be with you. To indulge for just a moment in you, even though he knew he could never truly have you. A temporary bliss to sate his thoughts of you, his need for you.

Loathing burned through him for ruining the moment. So, instead he tensed his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued. He could persist, he insisted to himself as his hold on your waist tightened.

You two had barely kissed twice more before you pulled away, completely breathless. You caught your breath, before looking up into his eyes, “I don’t want to go any further tonight, I’m sorry.”

He froze, before his fingers immediately left your waist. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! You’re wonderful. Just… a lot happened today, and I’m still overwhelmed I think. I hope you understand.”

He understood more than he could bare to say. “Of course.”

He’d never thought to just ask to stop. He never had the choice, the free will to. If he stopped he would have no prey for his master. Then he would be punished. And the punishment that Cazador would doll out for him was a much worse abuse then enduring the practiced torture he did with his victims. So he had just done it…

But you had asked. You had listened to yourself, and your wants and had stopped. You were vulnerable and honest in a moment of passion. You trusted him to listen.

You trusted him.

“And don’t apologize. Not for that.”

You pecked him on the cheek — your lips incredibly soft, it was only a puff of air across his skin. “We should probably head back — the others might be worried.”

He blinked back to reality, nodding along as different thoughts and memories flooded him. “The others, right.”

You both got dressed quietly, your clothes sticking to your damp skin and hair. You began to walk back towards the forest line, the dirt path leading back to camp looming in front of you.

Astarion glanced over at you, but blinked as he had realized he caught you staring at him. Your cheeks flushed brightly, before you ducked your head.

“Gale told me about what you did for me today.” You said quietly as you walked, your eyes fixed on the trail and hands twirling nervously at your side.

His steps slowed behind you, “Oh.”

You turned to face him, your eyes soft yet wide, “Shadowheart may have cast the spell. But you… you’re the reason why I’m here. Thank you for fighting for me.”

His heart thudded, as he felt an overwhelming urge to go to you. To hold you like he had in the river. His fingers twitched at his side as he instead swallowed and spoke, “Of course. You would have done the same.”

The sounds of the camp began to trickle down the trail, soft chatter by the fire could be heard from here. Surely meaning that any thing said between you now could also be overheard. You seemed to realize this as well as you turned back to him one last time.

“Astarion,” You called back. Every time you said his name, it was like a piece of him that he had long forgotten about came back to life. “I’m very glad I met you.”

He thought of all the moments that led to this one. Dying in that dirty, dark alley. Clawing his way out of his own grave. Two hundred years of misery, and begging, and torture. To the nautiloid and the god damn worm slithering in his head. And then to you — under him with his knife to your throat on the cliffside, flushed and dancing at the Tiefling party, sleeping soundly next to him in the inn. And to now, staring at him with your soft eyes and smile, your sweet laughs and touch still echoing in his ears and across his skin.

Maybe the gods had answered his calls after all — if he had been fated to meet you along.

“So am I,” He smiled back.

Continue to part III here!

[lesbianoms]

Well I’m not a MILF because I’m not a mom, but…

You know, I’m not supposed to eat before bed (something about acid reflux messing with my eustachian tubes, it’s a whole thing lol, the joys of getting older)

But I am hungry, and it’s not like I’m planning to go to sleep for a while now: certainly not if I have you to play with. The first stages of digestion are just so enjoyable, as much as I would like to pack you away like the meal you are, I still want to stay up to experience them. I love feeling you squirm, as if you have any chance of escape. It’s cute, really. I like seeing the bulges of your hands and feet and elbows and knees as you fight against me, but all your struggles are no match for my body. After a while, I can feel you beginning to soften, your movements growing fainter as you surrender to me. I give my soft belly a little shake and feel your goopy form slosh from side to side. Doing it work nicely

I’m beginning to drift off myself now, half conscious of you gurgling into my intestines to be absorbed. Ah well, you’re nothing but nutrients to me now. Still. My belly gives a long, satisfied groan, and I lay a hand on top of it. It’s still impressively round, but delightfully squishy as I poke and prod. You must no longer be conscious now, too, but I do hope you know how much I enjoyed you

In the morning, I’ll wake up to a much smaller tummy, still working away at you. I think I’ll wear something a little more revealing today- I have a nice cropped sweater- so I can show you off. I enjoy the way my belly jiggles cutely with you as I walk

It’s up to you what happens now. If you want to reform, well, I’m sure to be hungry again sometime soon, and it can be a bother trying to find a brand new meal every time. If not, you’d be a lovely addition to my hips. I’m quite happy either way

Dear LORD this is my dream 🥵

Was smiling and kicking my feet as I finished reading this, oooouhj the amount of detail you went into here…

Tbh I kind of can’t formulate a lot of coherent responses because now I’m gonna be thinking about this scenario while I go to bed, wrapping myself up in my sheets, wishing that I was digesting in your belly…..

Uuugh and the little comments about how you’re an older woman, how you’d love to show me off with that crop sweater, about me gurgling away in your soft lower gut and the jiggle of your belly as it continues to work on me~ 🥰

Although I may have been a bit feisty, at the end of the day I’m honored to be your meal… to have made your stomach so round and squishy-soft….. curled up in that wet, hot, groaning and bubbling paradise ❤️❤️

~~~

I actually did fall asleep thinking about being your dinner, funnily enough. Was gonna post this last night but it seems your belly put me in my place before I could finish writing <3

It must be so cozy in there, so sopping wet… feeling your hands all over me as your body softens up my form. I’m getting turned on imagining all of the sounds your tummy would make as it had its way with me… and as I lose consciousness I’ll only be thinking of you 💕

I might stay on your hips for a while before I reform, just as a treat for me. I need a break from being a person, y’know? But for now I think I’ll stay gluting and brbling inside of your much smaller, but still very active tummy. Have fun breaking me down and hearing me groan and gurgle through your guts~ ❤️😍

FUCK I want you to eat me. I wanna be your tummy fat so bad!!

[ginnsinabin]

Night time with wrench headcannons

+Gen neutral

-If you’ve been with wrench for a while, he’ll feel pretty comfortable in taking his mask of to sleep with you if he hasn’t already around the place you two occupy

-If its a fairly newish thing but not so new to be sleeping in the same bed with you than he’ll be a little more reluctant and shimmy around the subject until it’s brought up

-All he needs is some reassurance that his insecurities are not shared by you and he’ll feel comfortable enough to take it off right before bed

-Wrench uses you as pretty much a body pillow don't argue with me I'm right

 -There's no way this man of spikes doesn’t rely on you as a glorified night time stuffed animal

-Whenever you or him are on a mission wrench will get absolutely no proper sleep if any, you've absolutely ruined his ability to sleep (let’s be honest you really improved it)

 -Whenever you two come back from a time away, even if it’s just a day or two, this man will hold you in a steel grip for the entire night

-If you’re lucky you can maybe squeeze a pillow between the two of you if you want space but other than that there's not a single inch that separates the two of you

-Get comfy cause there's no pulling out of this punk’s grip. Will seriously drag/carry you to the bathroom if you even manage to get him up and out of the bed

-Has definitely referred to you as teddy human

-Wrench talks quite a bit in his sleep of various things happening in his absolutely abstract dreams

-Try to talk back and sometimes you’ll get some slightly coherent replies

-For being a man of nothing but chaos and destruction he is a heavy sleeper

-Seriously would have to either flip the bed or drop a nuke to wake this dead man

-If you get him awake prepare for some grumpy and groggy whining from being woken up

-The building could be on fire and he’d still give you some attitude

-If he miraculously wakes before you he’ll still cuddle you to him and either past time till you wake up on his phone or will simply watch you sleep (a bit creepy but an endearing kid of creepy)

(A/N dont judge my crap writing its been years since i’ve done this and i got a kick of motivation to make this at 12 am lol Hope you enjoyed or at least tolerated this)

[differenteagletragedy]

imagine the boys with an mc that they've never seen sick bc the mc got a really good immune system and then one day the mc is just sick in bed, all loopy, partially not understanding whats going on. So basically an mc that never gets sick but when they do its badddd.

-- Cove is PANICKING.

-- If you're still living at home, then he's going to your moms, his mom, his dad, just trying to figure out what to do.

Cove: Is it "feed a cold, starve a fever"? Why would we starve MC? How high does their temperature need to be before we take them to the doctor? Do we need to go to the emergency room?

-- But honestly, if you're living together, he's doing all that too. He's on google, checking your symptoms like once an hour. Will get soup delivered, he doesn't know how to make it (and he's not going to starve you, that's crazy).

-- By the way, none of the boys are going to keep their distance to avoid getting it lol, they'd all be in way too deep.

-- If you don't understand what's going on, he's going to think that's scary and he'll be tempted to take you to the hospital because you are precious to him. Will definitely call a nurse line or do a telehealth appointment, will also not leave your side until you're more coherent.

-- Tries to be strong for you but cries when you're sleeping because he's scared and he doesn't want you feeling this bad.

-- Derek was built for this though.

-- He's worried, of course, but he's a lot more composed. And he'll know how to make soup.

-- Will also know everything else on how best to treat you. He'll make sure you stay hydrated, will help you to the bathroom. Like he's gently wiping the sweat from your forehead or the snot from your nose lol, you will never have a better nurse in your life.

-- He'll talk to you and try to make you feel better even if you're loopy.

You: I don't ... I need to go to work ... the zebras ... *flails*

Derek: Shhh, honey, the zebras are fine, take another zip of water for me and try to rest.

-- He won't sleep until you're better.

-- Baxter though lol

-- It's not that he doesn't care, ok, he definitely does. He cares so much. He's going to call in at work so he can stay home and tend to you, he might even let you wear some of his fancy pajamas as a little treat.

-- But if you don't understand what's happening, then he's going to have fun with that.

You, a full grown adult with a full time job: If I don't finish my homework for math then I'm gonna flunk and I'll have to repeat the grade ...

Baxter, solemnly: That's terrible, dear.

-- He might go too far, but if he does then he'll feel bad enough to tell you when you get better to you can hang it over his head.

-- He will prepare a broth for you. He seems like a broth guy.

-- Will also lay in bed with you all day, having fun with your loopiness but also keeping an eye on you. Because as much as everyone calls Cove clingy, if he gets you back after the wedding in Step 4, then I hope you are ready for how hard he's going to attach himself to you.

[sentientgolfball]

Hello! Sorry to do this on anon 😅 I had a fic request!! I’ve been going through a really really rough time recently and all I’ve been needing is a Mountain/GN!Reader/Rain comfort fic with a reader with chronic pain 🥺 I appreciate you reading and, no matter what, thank you for your time!!

aw I am very sorry to hear that :(( I hope this can make you feel just a lil bit better <3

Enjoy some soft Mountain and Rain

My requests are open !

You crack open your eyes and immediately know what kind of day it’s going to be. You can feel the chill of the room on your face. You can hear the rain pouring down outside. You can feel the deep ache of your joints and you haven’t even moved yet. You thought maybe if you just laid in bed a little bit longer then the pain would go away, that you were just sore from sleeping in a weird position. When the pain persists you completely flipped your thinking, maybe you actually needed to get up and stretch. Yea that was definitely it. You sit up and quickly realize that was a mistake. It feels like there are a million tiny shards of glass trying to worm their way into your brain. 

You clutch your head and groan, screwing your eyes shut at the pain. You lay back down and bury your head under the pillows. You breathe deeply through your nose waiting for the pain to dull down. While you wait you do the only thing you can. You get upset. At everything. You curse the summer for dying away into autumn. You hate the feeling of the cold seeping deep within your body. You hate the rain for deciding to come now that the warm weather is over. You curse your body for reacting this way. You hate that you can’t enjoy the changing of the season because with every change in temperature comes days like these. Days where it’s too hard for you to move, to think, to just be able to function. 

A sharp throb pulses through your whole body and you whine realizing you definitely weren’t going to be able to work today. You blindly reach for your phone, not even bothering to remove your head from the pillows. You look at the screen when you grab it and it hurts. You quickly text the head librarian your situation and throw your phone back on your nightstand not even bothering to wait for a response. The longer you looked at the screen the more sick you felt. 

You laid like that for hours. You didn’t have the energy to even attempt to get up and do anything that might help with the ache. There were a couple times you tried to move when the ache seemed to die down, but doing so only made it flare right back up. So you stayed there with your head buried under pillows barely able to think. And then you heard your phone buzz. You ignored it the first time, but then it kept going off. You were starting to get annoyed at the noise. You reached up and grabbed it with the intent to put it on do not disturb. That was until you saw who was blowing up your phone. It was Rain. 

Did you stay up too late lol you weren’t here to greet me

Decided to skip work? Can’t blame you it’s nice outside

Are you alive?

…No seriously I’m worried are you ok? 

You wanted to reply but just as you tapped on the messages your head exploded in a thumping ache. You cursed and threw your phone day willing to settle just long enough to type a coherent sentence back to the water ghoul. You crack your eyes open when you feel your phone buzz again. 

I’m on my way. 

You slump back down and groan. You hated making him worry. You hated making any of the Siblings or ghouls worry. You wanted so badly to be able to just push all the pain away and get through your day with a smile. But the logical side of you screamed and begged to let them help you, let them worry and care for you. 

That side ended up winning when you heard a soft knock at your door. You mumbled a half hearted ‘come in’ and hissed when the light were turned on. 

“Shit sorry.” You heard Rain say before the lights were flicked off once more. 

You hear him walk over before the mattress dips with his added weight. You feel his hand start to rub firm but soothing circles into your back.

“Bad day?” 

“You have no idea.” 

“Have you eaten?”

You shake your head

“Drank?” 

You shake your head 

“Moved at all?” 

You shake your head 

He sighs and there's a moment of silence as he pulls out his phone and quickly types something. When he’s done he sits it on the nightstand next to yours before standing. He carefully removes the pillow from your head and peels the blankets off of you. He gently hooks his arms under you and picks you up with ease holding you close to him. He carries you to the bathroom and puts you down on the edge of the tub. He makes sure you're stable enough before pulling away and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. 

He quickly lights a few non-scented candles before gathering various soaps and other care products. He begins to fill the tub adding a few cups of bath salts to the water. You can already feel the heat coming off the water as Rain crouches in front of you. He slowly brings his hands to the bottom of your shirt and waits for your permission. You run a hand through his hair and nod. He smiles affectionately at you as he carefully undresses you and then himself. 

He dips into the tub first, settling back against the tile before gently pulling you in with him. You sigh heavily, feeling the hot water envelop you as you lean against Rain’s chest. You sit heavily against him putting all your weight on him as he begins to slowly massage your shoulders, working his way down your arms. You feel his tail squeeze around one of your legs and the pressure feels amazing. 

After a while of just sitting there, letting the water cradle you as Rain works his hands over every joint, he eventually scoops some water to pour over your hair. He gently runs his claws against your scalp when he’s satisfied before grabbing your favorite shampoo and lathering it into your hair. You hum in gratitude as he works his hands through, being sure to rub some gentle circles against your temples. When he’s finished he once again scoops some water into his hands to rinse the soap out. 

As he’s doing this you hear a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Right on time.” Rain says repositioning you so he can hop out of the bath. 

You watch bleary eyed as he wraps a towel around his waist and cracks open the door. He whispers something you can’t make out and nods his head with a slight smile. When he turns around after closing the door he has some clothes. One bundle is lounge wear you’ve seen the water ghoul wear hundreds of times, but the other is a massive sweatshirt and an extra pair of Rain’s sweatpants. Rain sets them down on the counter before walking over to the bath and hoisting you up. 

“Mountains waiting for us” he whispers and presses a kiss to your cheek “he brought something special for you.” 

You allow Rain to dry you off before you get dressed in the clothes brought for you. Moutain’s sweater and Rain’s sweatpants. When you’re ready he takes your hand and walks with you back to your bedroom. You’re greeted to the sight of Mounatin sitting on your bed smiling softly. There’s a tray on your nightstand with three mugs, steam rolling off of them. You can smell the herbaceous scent from where you stand. You notice there’s an added blanket on your bed and you nearly cry when you realize it’s heated. 

You practically slump against the earth ghoul who carefully pulls you against him as he leans back and against the headboard. He pulls the blanket over you as Rain hands you and Mountain your respective mugs. He takes his own before walking around to the other side of the bed to get under the covers. He slides in right next to Mountain who pulls him closer to you two, wrapping a massive arm around his shoulders. 

You take a sip of the tea and practically moan at the taste. Mountain chuckles and takes a sip from his own mug. 

“Like it? It’s a new blend I’m testing. Rain said it helped him so I thought you’d want some.” 

“It’s perfect Mounty.” You hum taking another long drink. 

When you finish Mountain takes the empty mug from you and lays off to the side. He holds you close to him letting the pressure of his arms wrap around you. The combination of the tea, the heated blanket, and two ghouls happily purring away make your eyes feel heavy. 

“Tired?” Rain says snuggling in closer, giving you a few soft kisses before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. 

You nod, pulling Mountain’s arm tighter around you, resting your head on his chest. He kisses the top of your head. 

“Go to sleep, wildflower. Rain and I will stay as long as you need us.” 

You and mutter an incoherent form of ‘thank you’ before closing your eyes. The two ghouls laugh and twine their tails together, resting them on top of you. 

“Sleep well.”

“We’ll be right here whenever you need us.” 

[iveseenstrangerthings]

beer fear - Steve Harrington imagine

summary: Steve takes a very drunk reader home from a party. Steve and reader are just friends, but reader is falling in love with Steve.... written the morning after the night before.

warnings: mentions of drinking (unable to recall drinking episode) and hangovers

word count: 1k (very short so is this still an imagine??? too long for a drabble so I’ll just stick with imagine lol)

                                                 ✦    ✦    ✦    ✦

A sudden hot flash of pain spreads across your forehead as your eyes peel open, adjusting to the early morning light that floods your room. Your curtains are wide open, and your mouth is like cotton. To clear the dryness, you move your tongue back over the roof of your mouth a few times, forcing saliva around your mouth.

You’d spent last night at party and drank way too much. You’re not a big drinker, at all, but the people you spent last night with weren’t exactly great influencers. So here you are the next morning, having only been awake for 30 seconds, and already feeling painfully sorry for yourself. 

Your body stays cocooned underneath your duvet, you have no idea how you got home or when you got home. With the realisation that you can’t recall any details of the previous night, a hot flush of nausea rushes through you and you have to sit up. However, you sit up way too quickly, and it causes the pounding in your head to intensify. You don’t hear Steve enter your bedroom as you sit with your head in between your fingers, slowly massaging your forehead.

“Oh hey, you’re awake.” His voice is gentle, but you look up with a start, not expecting to see anyone this morning, especially Steve. You dread to think what you look like; you’re most definitely sporting a solid pair of racoon eyes since you highly doubt your makeup was removed.

“Steve?” You look at him quizzically as he carries a fresh glass of water to your bed side with two pills. Do your eyes deceive you or is he really in your room right now? “What, when did you- how-” You point to the glass, then back to Steve, then back to yourself, struggling to form a coherent sentence. He straightens the duvet to make sure your legs aren’t underneath, then plants himself down on the edge of your bed. “How did I get home?” You question dumbfoundedly. You hate feeling like this and vouch to yourself to never let it happen again.

“Robin called me.” He admits, looking slightly sheepish. He’s never seen you like this before, and you feel deeply ashamed. He wasn’t even at the party, that shows how bad you must’ve been. “I came to pick you up, so I brought you home. I didn’t know where any of your stuff was to you know, take off your makeup or anything.” That confirms your racoon eye suspicions. “And I didn’t wanna change your clothes or anything, with the state you were in.” He half laughs, then his face quickly returns sullen and serious. “I hope you don’t mind but I stayed over.” 

“Did we...?” You point to the empty side of the bed and then back to Steve, he’s going to need to fill in all the blanks for you.

At his realisation of what you mean, his eyes go wide, and he shakes his head furiously, “Oh God, no!! No. Absolutely not. I did sleep on the floor though, just at the bottom of your bed.” He sighs heavily and rubs his eyes as he points behind with his thumb, he doesn’t seem to have had much sleep. “I was petrified you’d puke in your sleep, so I wanted to be nearby.” You grimace and your stomach churns at the thought. “You didn’t, though.” He quickly adds, knowing you get anxious about that sort of stuff. 

With the return of your cotton mouth, you reach over and gulp down half the glass of water. The sudden addition of liquid to your stomach makes it lurch and you breathe deeply through the nauseous feeling, massaging your wrists. You close your eyes and breathe in deeper, letting the silence settle over the pair of you like a thick blanket. You still feel him, slightly weighing down the bed, and it comforts you knowing he’s here. 

After a few moments, and your nausea, have passed you open your eyes to see Steve looking over at you. When your eyes suddenly meet, he turns his gaze away, almost embarrassed that he was caught staring. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is weak and quiet. 

He looks back at you now, brows furrowed, “Hey, what for?” His arm stretches out and he rests his hand where he can feel your leg.

“I probably spoilt your evening, spoilt whatever lovely plans you had for last night.” 

He laughs slightly and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t have any plans. Besides, you’re cute when you’re drunk.” 

You feel for a minute you’re still drunk. Cute? He’d never described you as cute. You can’t muster up a witty remark or even attempt to question the word, so you let it slide. “I owe you one, big time.” Leisurely, your mouth pulls into a smile, and you look over at Steve, who gradually pulls his hand back then pats them onto his knees. Feelings of gratitude and admiration fill you as you realise how kind he’d been to you. To bring you home safely, look after you, watch over you... He hardly slept a wink last night. Any stir or noise from you caused him to jump up and come to your side, ensuring you were okay. Which, of course, you were. He’d just tuck you back in and make sure you looked relatively comfortable before returning to his little pile of blankets and pillows on your floor. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me.” He smiles back at you warmly, his eyes looking tired and sleepy. 

“I’m gonna shower. I feel gross.” As you start to sit up further, Steve steps up and away from the bed. 

He nods and starts to walk towards your bedroom door, “Do you want breakfast? I can make it for when you’re out of the shower?” He wrings his hands nervously, which he never usually does around you. Maybe it’s a tiredness thing. 

You nod gratefully, “I’d love that.” 

Steve leaves you to it to gather your things for the shower as he goes off to start breakfast. The fact Steve’s done all this for you only makes that deep feeling of admiration and love grow bigger inside of you. You think of how comforting, how reassuring it is, knowing he’s so close to you. As you shower, you’re left hoping that the two of you waking up together and having breakfast will be a delightful recurrence. Only under less hungover circumstances.

[circus4apsycho8]

hey hey! i was wondering if i could maybe get a kai x reader oneshot where the reader is sick.

nothing serious or anything like that, just a cold that makes them slightly delirious and cling onto kai more than they usually do (aka they don't normally do it at all lol)

no pressure if you can't/don't want to do this, btw, i just thought it'd be cute tbh /gen /npa dw

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 :) 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

clingy. | kai x reader

You tried to drag yourself out of bed. You really did, considering how much you hate skipping training. 

But today is different – the lopsided pressure in your head is making you dizzy when you try to stand. You’re able to lay back down before you lose your balance. 

Stars, your head is throbbing. Combined with your stuffy nose, sore throat...yeah. Absolutely icky. 

It takes a matter of seconds for you to give up any hope of getting up. Suddenly met with a cold chill, you pull your blanket closer to your chin. 

For a few minutes, you simply lay there, not wanting to move. You’re too achy to even think about standing. 

To no avail, you try to go back to sleep. But you just can’t. For a few minutes, you find yourself tossing and turning until a knock sounds at your door. 

“Huh?” you grunt, throat too sore for you to speak anything coherently. 

“Babe?”

Relief courses through you as Kai steps through, his warm eyes already darting across your bedridden figure. It doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

He sits beside you, one of his hands coming to your cheek. “Oh no...you caught whatever funk Jay brought back, didn’t you?” 

You nod, pointing to your throat. 

“Your throat hurts? Damn. I’ll see if Sensei can make some of his sick tea. Here,” he trails off so he can unhook your phone from its charger, handing it over to you. “Text me until your throat feels better. Just tell me if you want anything to eat or anything, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

Thank the stars for this boy. You don’t know what you’d do without him. 

You immediately open your messaging app, thumbs zipping across the keyboard: 

You: can i pls have some medicine too 

You: i feel like i got hit by a truck 

Kai: u got it gorgeous 

Kai: sensei making tea rn, im bringing u medicine for now 

You: thank you sm 

Glad that he’s returning, you shut your phone off and set it on your chest as you close your eyes. 

Soon enough, Kai returns, bottle of water and medicine in hand along with his laptop cradled in his other arm. He sets it at the foot of the bed so that he can crack the bottle open. 

“Okay, can you sit up for me?” he questions, once again having a seat at the edge of your bed. 

You nod, shifting until you’re upright. Kai patiently waits for you to get comfortable, gently dumping two pills into your hands before giving you the bottle of water. “I know your throat hurts, but this will help lighten the nastiness up a little bit.” 

You down the pills with a gulp of water, cringing at the feeling of the pills sliding down your sore throat. 

“I know it hurts, babe, but it’ll help. Make sure you keep drinking water, too. You need to stay hydrated.” 

You nod, sighing through your stuffy nose. Kai climbs into bed next to you, reaching for the laptop. You open your phone again. 

You: don’t get close! I don’t want you to get sick too

Rather than sending it to him, you just turn the screen towards him so that he can read it. 

“Nah, I’m staying,” he replies. “I know it sucks to be alone when you’re sick. Besides, we haven’t had a whole lot of time together lately anyway. Let’s watch something, yeah?” 

You nod, understanding by the tone of his voice that his mind won’t be changed. 

“Great. So, what do you want to watch?” 

You type your answer out, followed by: 

But you get to pick the next one!! 

“Fine,” he replies with a chuckle. “Let me go check your tea first, though!” 

A hint of a smile appears on your lips as you watch him leave. How did you end up so lucky? 

While you wait for your boyfriend to return, you take another sip of water. The pain in your throat screeches in retaliation, though. Yeah, you should probably wait for the tea. Sensei Wu’s special tea always managed to help a little bit. 

Kai returns a few minutes later, your cup of tea in hand. He settles in next to you, handing you the mug. 

You sigh gratefully, taking a sip. The hot water does wonders to soothe your throat. 

“That’s better,” you mumble, leaning your head on Kai’s shoulder. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you,” he replies, shooting you his adorably dumb smile. You can’t help but smile too, watching as he sets up the show and leans back. 

For a while, you simply lean against him, content that he’s staying with you for the time being. The warmth radiating from him wards the chilliness away, allowing you to flutter in and out of sleep as you rest. 

After your show ends, you feel Kai stirring from his spot beside you. You turn to him, watching as he starts to untangle himself from the sheets. 

You find yourself upset that he’s leaving, setting your mug to the side as you latch onto his arm. 

“Babe,” he coos, chuckling as he glances back down at you with those gorgeous amber eyes. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” 

“But I want you to stay...” you mumble shyly, not letting go. 

“It’ll be super quick. I’m just going to go grab a snack. And I can refill your mug, too!” 

You sigh, releasing his arm slightly. “Okay...thank you.” 

Kai presses a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed, a rush of cold air replacing his warmth. You reach over to your laptop so you can pause the video before laying your head back on your pillow. 

A few minutes pass, and you find yourself missing Kai. Why are you feeling so clingy today? Normally, you’re not like this, but for some reason, you just want to hide with him until you feel better. 

You grab your phone, sending him another text: 

kaiiiiiii 

where'd you go?? 

:( 

To your dismay, Kai doesn’t answer for a few minutes. Stars, why are you feeling so sensitive today? Is it just because being sick makes you feel vulnerable? 

Thankfully, Kai responds shortly after: 

im otw, sorry...got caught up talking to sensei 

He returns a few seconds later, now with snacks and a refilled mug of tea. “Sorry, Sensei was asking me a few questions. He’s letting me take the day off so I can take care of you.” 

“Good,” you croak, shifting around as he settles back in beside you. “I just...need you right now.” 

Kai smiles softly, pulling you against his chest as the two of you lean back. “You know...I hate that you’re sick, but at the same time...I kind of like this side of you.” 

“I don’t, but I can’t help it. When I get better, it’s straight back to the ass kicking. Yours included.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Kai jokes. 

You sigh, too tired to return the banter. “Thank you for staying, Kai.” 

“Anything for you, babe. Get some rest.” 

With that, your eyelids grow heavy as you snuggle up to him, eventually letting yourself sleep for the day. 

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

[dawnagustd]

the lonely mayor || jhs

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.     

➻ title: the lonely mayor  ➻ pairing: mayor!hoseok x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.1k  ➻ rating: 18+  ➻ warnings: dom!hoseok | sub!reader | unprotected sex | exhibitionism | controlled orgasms | pain kink | hair pulling | window sex | back shots/standing doggy | partially clothed sex | cum eating | cum shots | rough sex | temperature play? | dirty talk | a lil degradation | no aftercare(she does not need it) | pet names | panty sniffing | gagging/panty stuffing | crying (the sexy kind) | a touch(i mean it.. just a lil) of longing | a line from Home Alone (because i’m lame lol) ➻ author’s note: Part one is here !!! I hope y’all like it!! Thanks @taechwitaaah​​ for beta reading!! You saved the day as always. I love you!!

Your first stop is the town hall. You must ask the mayor for permission to spread a little holiday cheer in his town. Mayor Jung Hoseok could talk a skirt up or a pair of pants down at record speed.

He’s a “people” person with a lot of charisma, but he does have a wild side… And sweet tooth for exhibitionism. However, sometimes there is no one to call when he’s craving a late-night snack at the office.

Mayor Jung loves his town, deeply. One look at your agenda had a bright smile spreading across his charming face. But as the dashing blonde looked over your naughty list, he realized his name was right at the very top. It was then that the bright ray of sunshine that illuminated this town turned into an unforgiving dark storm.

Strap in tight… Because Mayor Jung has retired for tonight, and Hoseok has come out to play.

“You really thought you’d come here and suck me dry in five minutes?” 

The mayor’s lips are pressed against your ear as he grunts and moans sinfully sweet noises of pleasure.

Initially, you did, but Hoseok’s been ramming his cock inside of you for all of twelve minutes straight. There’s no question that you’ve met your match.

Your exposed flesh is pressed against the icy cold window. The nipping frost from outside penetrates through the glass and stiffens your sensitive nipples. Skirt bunched around your waist, panties stuffed in your mouth to avoid waking his sleeping secretary downstairs, your muffled response is barely coherent through your makeshift gag.

“Mmfuck!”

Your voice breaks and crack. He chuckles at your lust-driven cries.

His right hand is wrapped so tightly in your hair that your scalp burns and tingles, sending waves of raw pleasure to your leaking cunt. Juices flow and gush out onto Hoseok’s eagerly throbbing scrotum. From there, your slick drops to the floor, creating lewd sounds and fueling the drive in his powerful thrusts.

Your palms are flat against the window and held high above your head. Hoseok’s hands soon slip from your waist and hair to join them in their position. Your fingers intertwine as he fucks you from the back, your ass jiggling and clapping from the impact of his hips slamming into you.

While arching your back, you allow him to drill deeper into your pulsing heat. Your faint sobs sound like music to his ears, so he pounds you from an angle and begins hitting your g-spot with precision.

“Well, look who’s about to come all over my cock. I guess you didn’t think I’d feel you clenching around me, did you?” 

His breath makes the hair on your skin tingle as he speaks against your neck.

Your eyes begin to roll back, and your teeth dig into your red lace panties. You try to fight the urge, but the challenge is proven to be too great. Hoseok’s laughter fills the room, and commands you to come before he pulls out of you, denying you of any more of his attention.

The mayor’s office flashes white as you lose sight and sense of reality. Your vision grows blank as you accept your pending orgasm with much gratitude, thick salty droplets roll slowly down your cheeks. Both your moans travel through the air. You go from solid to liquid, causing him to wrap his arms around you securely, so you don’t fall face first.

His dick still pulses inside of you, patiently waiting for its turn for relief.

“Shit, you’ve got some tight pussy. You know that?” he grunts. “But unfortunately… I’m going to have to wrap this up and pass you on to the next lucky cock.” 

Hoseok’s teeth attack the skin of your neck and shoulder one last time before he prepares to reach his high. “This was fun, baby girl. Now where can I leave your present?”

He snatches your panties out of your mouth, then carelessly throws the fabric across the room, allowing you to speak for the first time in minutes. You can barely recognize your voice when it enters the air; it’s so raspy from the amount of screaming.

“Come all over my ass, and lick it off… Don’t want you to leave a single drop.”

“My god, you are so hot. Fuck!” 

Hoseok quickly pulls out of your pussy before he releases a generous load of hot sticky cum all over your ass.

He hisses as he milks himself dry. You lean against the window looking at the town below. When the mayor drops to his knees and cleans up his mess, you give him a small hum of approval, patting his blonde strands for good measures.

After he’s done, he rises to his feet to look for your discarded underwear. However, by the time he finds them, you’ve already freshened up. His eyes widen with shock, and his mouth falls open. You don’t provide him with any answers as to how you’ve replaced an outfit in under a minute because some things are better left a mystery. A man can only handle so much in one night.

“Keep them, love. I won’t be needing them anyway.” 

You toss him a wink as you head towards the door, but the sound of his voice stops you before you can depart.

“I don’t think I even want to know how you did that. But umm… Aren’t you cold? It’s freezing outside,” the mayor points out.

You walk over to him and cup his perfectly chiseled jawline in your hands.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok. This pussy could face a damn blizzard, and it still wouldn’t get cold.” 

You then place a gentle kiss on his cheek, and his long lashes flutter. 

“Noted,” he whisper. 

He watches you leave the room in silence, not the least bit startled when you disappear to the right at the door frame.

However, a bright smile appears on his face when you suddenly reappear.

“Mayor, do you mind pointing me in the direction of the elementary school?”

“Of course! It's right in the center of town. Mr. Park should still be there, so the lights will be on,” he replies as he redresses and collects himself. He turns briefly to grab his tie.

“Perfect,” you beam. “Goodnight, Mayor Jung.”

“Yeah, I wish you’d at least stay for a drink—”

However, his invitation never reaches the recipient, because you are no longer standing there when he turns his head around. 

Just like all of his hopes of seeing you again, you’ve vanished into the cold December night.

The lonely mayor then whispers to himself while he takes a whiff of the red lace panties you’ve gifted him.

“Merry Christmas, you filthy animal.”

[mountainshroom]

May I suggest (a shortened version of one of my most developed hcs): Zuko being sick and clingy and Sokka taking care of him super diligently. Staying nearby and bringing him food and water and more blankets (and his coat hehe) and anything else he needs.

Also Zuko refusing to take the medicine Sokka brings him "because it's gross" but actually it's because he's maybe not so secretly enjoying this and doesn't wanna get better yet

Eventually he realizes it's not fair to Sokka even though he doesn't mind at all and would do it forever, so he finally takes the meds and is on the mend.

But to make up for delaying it for so long he starts getting up to do things for himself and tells Sokka he doesn't have to worry about it anymore but Sokka's like "nonsense you're not all the way better yet, go back to bed and let me handle this"

Sokka trying to make soup at some point but he absolutely sucks at cooking (no idea if this checks out or not, he just has that vibe to me) so he asks Katara or Aang (or Iroh if he's around) for help. No one tells Zuko that Sokka didn't make it himself.

I feel like that's a weird place to end the hc but it's 4 in the morning and I don't know anymore lol. I hope it's coherent enough to understand 😂 I don't sleep anymore I just write this stuff

Also I have some drawings planned if I can find the time and motivation to actually make it happen. One of which is the scene I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about for no reason that made me realize I ship them!

This could literally be a whole fic and you know I would eat that up SO fast >>>

I’m a sucker for cutesy fluff about someone worrying and taking care of the other person so this hc is right up my alley 🥹

Zuko literally not wanting to get better so he can keep Sokka near him would be relatable af this is cutee

[skania]

THOUGHTS ON TOMMY & LIZZIE IN S6 (PART 2)

So this has been in my drafts for almost a year now. I kept putting it off because I wanted to rewatch the season to write my thoughts more coherently, but by now I think that’s just not happening so I’m posting it as is lol

Part 1 HERE 

Once again, this post will contain tons of images, and spoilers for the entirety of Season 5 and Season 6. So, read at your own discretion!

So where I left off, Tommy and Lizzie had chosen to overcome Ruby's death and all the pain and stay together. 

Tommy even makes her another promise, that he will change and change for good. For real this time. Just not yet. 

The thing is, Tommy is right when he says has no limitations. He doesn't know when to stop. So, he doesn’t stop to think that other people may have a limit to how much they are willing to put up with. He figures that as long as he can keep providing for them, that as long as he can stay at the top of the chain, people will stay. That they will need him.

I feel like this is the crux of his behavior towards Lizzie, but when it comes to her, it’s not about the money. In his lowest moments, Tommy likes to pretend that it is; like in the S3 where he tries to give her money only for Lizzie to refuse to take it. Or in S5, when he lashes out saying that everyone needs him, she included.

But what keeps Lizzie by his side isn’t his money, it’s loyalty. It’s her love for him. Tommy knows this. It’s the reason why, whenever he does something he knows she will not like, Tommy feels guilty but still expects her to put up with it. And really, Lizzie has put up with so much throughout the series that Tommy's expectations aren't unfounded.

Until Diana happens.

Diana

The powerful thing about this scene is that all at once, Tommy knows that he has gone too far. He knows this is something he can’t ask Lizzie to overlook. Something she may not be able to forgive.

What Lizzie feared has come true. He has crossed the line.

The focus on his wedding ring tells us all we need to know, but what follows is just as striking.

His guilt, his panic is such that he feels trapped. He is back in those tunnels in France, a man with a death sentence and no way out.

And it’s all because he has stained Lizzie yet again.

Honestly, there’s a lot to say about Tommy’s dynamic with Lizzie. Tommy keeps most of his relationships transactional, but what Lizzie asks of him—what she deserves of him—is something Tommy doesn’t know how to give. I think this is part of what makes Lizzie get under his skin the way she does.

She loves him thoroughly and honestly and Tommy doesn’t know what to do with that because he doesn’t love himself, so he doesn’t know how to love her right, either. But—and that’s the thing—he wants to try. He sincerely wants to be a better man.

This is why he has such a visceral reaction to sleeping with Diana. Lizzie deserves better, she deserves so much better and Tommy is painfully aware of this. The fact that he was even capable of doing this to her makes him sick, because what does that say about the kind of man he is?

He changes the combination to the safe after this.

It’s not even because of his sickness, but because of this betrayal. He doesn’t want Lizzie to know. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Not yet. Not when he doesn’t have results that could perhaps, somehow, make her understand why he did it.

The saddest thing is that back when Tommy took Lizzie to that hotel room, he offered to let Lizzie into some of his plans, and she rejected his offer. She said she knew enough, because she was hurt at finding herself at the top of Tommy’s regrets. But now that she understands he doesn’t regret her, Lizzie is willing to give him another chance. She wants to know again.

But now more than ever, Tommy can’t let her in. All he can give her is a promise that he hopes he will be able to keep. That once everything is done, he will bare himself to her, sins and all.

The way he even restates his promise to her during the dinner shows the importance he is giving to it. Even now, Tommy thinks there’s time to make things right.

Of course, nothing ever goes the way he plans, so Diana comes in and the bomb explodes.

This scene is tragic but it’s so funny at the same time. He doesn’t even dare to look at Lizzie when Diana reveals they slept together. He tries to but immediately looks forward again. How sad is that lol

He is literally seething after Lizzie leaves. These two bastards humiliated Lizzie — and doomed his marriage — because he himself gave them the ammo.

And then Mosley goes and twists the knife right where it hurts.

How ironic! Tommy’s entire conflict with Lizzie this season is the entire opposite! The irony is not lost on Tommy, he kept to wine despite the american’s insistance that he switch to whiskey, but after this he does ditch the wine to pour himself a glass of whiskey lmao

This exchange pretty much summarizes everything Tommy has come to realize about himself and Lizzie this season.

Tommy tries and tries to do the right thing, but his means are always wrong. Sleeping with Diana is just the latest in a list of fuck-ups, and he has come to realize that even though he would like to believe the opposite, he can’t be what Lizzie deserves him to be because he does belong at that table.

And that’s the saddest ending.

The ending he has brought on himself.

Lizzie’s goodbye

It's funny because Tommy is an inherently selfish person. He is greedy and self-centered and single-minded. Despite having no plans of making her his wife, he tricked Lizzie into not marrying John in Season 1 and made sure she wouldn't date Angeal in Season 3. 

What this all comes down to is that Tommy is caught in a hell of his own making but he's not selfless enough to let her go, because he wants her by his side.

Hell, if it weren't for his sickness, I bet Tommy would've found a way to convince Lizzie to stay, even after Diana. But his sickness and his lack of future (she doesn’t deserve what I’ll become) give Tommy the last push he needs to finally put Lizzie first and to free her from the curse (him), so he lets her go without a fuss.

The tragedy in all of this, is that this is the first time Tommy has been selfless about her. This is the first time he has truly put her first. But Lizzie doesn’t know this, because she never found out why the bomb was ticking.

This is literally the biggest act of love Tommy has ever done for her, but she doesn’t even know it. To her, his acceptance probably only confirms that he doesn’t love her enough.

Truly tragic from beginning to end.

The Rings

This was one of my favorite details this season. She takes hers off, but Tommy keeps his on until the bitter end. He wears it until the very day he intends to die.

Even though Lizzie has left him, Tommy keeps the reminder of their marriage on him. He chooses to stay married to her until his last moments.

Which is no surprise because even during that plane ride, Lizzie and all the ways he failed her kept weighting on his mind. 

Right now, In this Moment

I wanted to wrap this up with this scene, because holy hell did we have to wait for it.

In Part 1, I talked about muy favorite bits: the parallels behind Lizzie knowing the combination to the safe, and Tommy saying that she married a man and she married a curse. But there’s something else that really stood out to me about Tommy’s wording, and it’s the way he choses to frame his long-time-coming confession.

I feel like this has so many layers; the wording is utterly deliberate and means a lot of things at once. Tommy chose that place because they have no history there; unlike Arrow House, there are no painful memories there. It isn’t tainted by their past and their mistakes. It’s a blank canvas where it’s just him and her.

But there’s more to it than that. Tommy dreads what he will become. Not only because of his business, but most of all, because of his sickness. 

He fears he will have to crawl, grow insane and helpless. A few months from now, he may not even be aware of who he is and of the way he feels about her.

So I feel that he is essentially telling her: for the record, in this moment, when I am of sound mind, and in this room, where you and I are all that matter, I want you to know that I love you. I wanted you to know this, while I can still say it. Please remember it.

And of course, Lizzie knows at once that something is wrong. That Tommy is like a bomb waiting to explode, because why else would he be admitting that he loves her now? Why else would he be expressing it with such ominous wording?

So all in all, Season 6 is just really bittersweet because it’s like Tommy and Lizzie didn’t even have a fighting chance. He was dead because of Polly, dead because of Ruby, dead because of business, dead because of his illness; and then Lizzie is gone.

Throughout Peaky Blinders, we saw Tommy fight his love for Lizzie, we saw him accept it, then we saw him admit it; but we never got to see them happy the way we should have. There was always something bigger than them going on, and it’s a huge shame.

In all honesty, I have no idea what is expecting them in the movie. In a way, I think Tommy knows that finally letting her go is the best thing he has ever done for her. In that way, their chapter may truly be closed.

But if he does manage to change, to truly change for good and become a man worthy of having her by his side, then I’d like for him to think he deserves to fight for her. I do think that despite everything, Lizzie would likely give him another chance.

Because for better or worse, Lizzie loves Tommy Shelby. And while it was often for the worse, Tommy Shelby loves her too.

[trickstarbrave]

concubine au part 8.... part 7 you can find here

uhhhh honestly this chapter is just filth. rly dirty smut ngl. im also still sick so i hope it's coherent but i had fun writing it. and nerevar at least has fun LOL

warning for like. pregnancy talk/kink i guess. but uhhhh thats been happening the last few chapters. not where i expected this to go as a story but okay

--

Voryn was gone for a while, both for the dinner which was as awkward as intended, and for the after dinner mingling and drinks as was custom when you were hosting guests. 

A few hours flew right by, Nerevar napping for most of it. When he awoke, there was food waiting for him that he quickly scarfed down. He had been eating regular meals for a few weeks now with no issues, but part of his mind always savored the food. Too many times Anaryl would punish him with no food for the day, taunting him while he was hungry the whole while. 

Still, the longer he was awake, the more anxious he got. Voryn was gone a while--had he not slept that long? Or had something gone wrong. It wasn’t long until his restless energy had him pacing and frustrated. He wished he was there right now, making sure everything was going to plan and listening in. He’d often attend dinner parties and such, listening carefully to all the gossip and formulating plans. Not doing that left him nervous, nearly shaking with pent up energy and worry.

When Voryn finally came in, Nerevar was more than relieved, even as Voryn immediately sat him down and began fussing over him.

“I told you to rest.” Voryn scolded him, his voice still gentle. 

“I did.” Nerevar replied. “I napped, then I ate…” He sighed. “But I just couldn’t relax after that. You were out there, and I didn’t know what was going on, I couldn’t plan…” 

“Shhh,” Voryn hushed him, “Everything went very well, Neht.” Voryn stroked his cheek, the affectionate and gentle touch helping relax Nerevar. “I can tell you all about it and we can think of a plan together, alright?” 

“I’d… Appreciate that.” Now he just felt stupid getting so worked up over nothing. He knew Voryn could take care of himself, he just didn’t like not knowing what was going on, especially in such a difficult situation they were in.

“Here,” Voryn sat beside him, wrapping an arm around Nerevar. “Just relax for a moment, alright?” Voryn stroked his back through the comfortable sleeping robes he was wearing. “I won’t leave you here if it makes you this anxious, alright?” 

“No, if you need to--”

“If I need to.” Voryn stressed. “I just had you stay here to rest, but I don’t want you to be nervous, alright?” Voryn then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “In the future I’ll try not to mingle with them without you.”

“What happened then?” Nerevar asked, after the shaking in his hands subsided. Voryn said it went well--maybe there was something Nerevar could use. 

“Not much, but I think I sold our little act well.” Voryn explained. “Dres Galar thought he had something to use against me: the knowledge of the birth control you were taking.” Nerevar made a sour face. “He was hoping to use the fact the drug can cause infertility to either make my act slip, or persuade me to ship you back.”

“And what did you say?” 

Voryn glanced away sheepishly. “I… Leaned into the role.” He began. “I figured the best way to approach it would be to give a very… Uncomfortable response.” He then coughed awkwardly. “Make myself seem to be quite the monster absolutely sick with want.” 

“Come on, spit it out.” Nerevar prodded him, smiling slightly from how flustered he was getting. 

“I told him I already knew about the drug and its effects.” That much was the actual truth. “And that I had the healers lie to you and say you were infertile.” Nerevar raised an eyebrow. “I then continued saying I… Intended to use it against you. You wouldn’t know to use protection if you thought you couldn’t conceive, and after you were lulled into a false sense of security…” 

“Oh…” Nerevar’s cheeks were slightly flushed. Certainly, that would be a pretty unhinged thing to say that he didn’t think even Dres Galar saw coming. Still though, it would help further their act. 

If only he could stop thinking about how weirdly arousing it was. 

“Does that sort of talk bother you?” Voryn asked, no doubt concerned given the last time the subject of infertility was brought up Nerevar burst into tears for no reason. 

“Not really,” Nerevar shook his head. “I know this is for our act, and you did really well playing it off like that. It does sell the whole dynamic we’ve made.” He hummed softly. “I think I can even come up with a few ways to play with that little idea you’ve thrown around.” 

“Oh?” Voryn asked. “Already thinking of a new plan?”

Nerevar looked back at him with a sly grin.

“You’ll probably be working in your study again tomorrow right?” Voryn nodded, also grinning slightly back. “And you’ll want your concubine in there, at your side, to admire while you work until you take a break…”

“Go on.” Voryn replied, still rubbing circles on his back. 

“A spy will at least be listening in, no doubt…” Nerevar climbed up on Voryn’s lap now, straddling him as Voryn’s hand trailed lower down his spine. “Wouldn’t it be fitting for a cruel man such as yourself to be fantasizing about it, whispering to your poor concubine how badly you wished I could have your baby… Taking delight in how I had no idea you were going to knock me up eventually?” He was practically purring in Voryn’s ear now, before Voryn’s hand dipped down to Nerevar’s ass now, groping him and earning a low groan from Nerevar’s lips. 

“Naughty little thing…” Voryn whispered back. “That is an excellent idea, isn’t it?” 

--

Nerevar was seated on the lounge in Voryn’s office, eagerly waiting. He was almost giddy with excitement, watching Voryn look over various reports, make notes, write in code, and sign documents. Occasionally they’d make eyes at each other, from friendly smiles to flirty glances, while Nerevar tried to keep himself entertained. But by this point he was barely reading the words, his eyes simply glazing over at the pages of his book, instead fantasizing. He even chastised himself for fantasizing too enthusiastically on multiple occasions, before that too faded as he instead could only think about what was to come.

Then finally—finally—Voryn set all of his papers aside, motioning for Nerevar to come closer. With a feigned sigh of annoyance he got up, moving to climb up onto Voryn’s lap and straddle him once more.

“My my,” Voryn remarked with a smirk, “You’re certainly well behaved today~”

“Just get it over with…” Nerevar groaned, though his hips were already squirming as Voryn’s hand began to slide up his thigh.

“You should know me better by now, Neht.” Voryn kissed gently at his neck. “I love indulging in you far too much to simply get it over with.” Nerevar shuddered as Voryn’s lips trailed down his sensitive neck in hot, wet kisses. He was already excited and trying desperately to keep his reactions under control, but fuck did Voryn make that a difficult task.

Then, Voryn’s hand slid up further, completely missing his arousal and instead rubbing gently at his lower stomach. Nerevar could have whined just from that, instead suppressing it by biting his lip. A spy from House Dres couldn’t see them in the privacy of the office, but they could hear so acting it out mostly would help make the sounds convincing. 

“Mm… Gods,” Voryn nipped at his ear now, making Nerevar hiss sharply. “I wish you were pregnant with my child.” A full shiver ran down Nerevar’s spine hearing that. Voryn sounded so convincing, his voice trembling slightly.

“I can’t--” Nerevar hissed, still squirming, “Remember?”

“I’m so disappointed in you for using that damn drug…” Voryn gave an annoyed sigh. “You could have seriously hurt yourself.”

Nerevar was trying desperately to play along now, wishing more than anything that Voryn was touching him so much more than he already was. The gentle strokes on his skin weren’t enough--they were more teasing than anything.

“Ah…” Nerevar gasped softly as Voryn opened his robes to expose his chest, beginning to kiss down from his throat. “Would you prefer I’d have been forced to have that bastard’s child…?” He was trying his hardest to sound disgusted and annoyed, but that was so hard to manage when it felt so good.

“You know I would have loved any child you had.” Nerevar shivered again at that. “I’m certain any child you could have would be perfect.” His words were honey sweet, like someone talking to a lover, whispering sweet nothings and beautiful little promises. 

“Stop it--” Nerevar groaned louder, before Voryn’s tongue flicked against a nipple. 

“I’d have raised them as my own,” Voryn continued, “So long as I could have you…” One of his hands now slid up the back of Nerevar’s thigh, massaging the muscles. The words were honestly kind of touching, if he thought Voryn actually meant them. Certainly Voryn would ensure the kid had everything he needed, but he’d never go so far as to say Nerevar should have had a child he didn’t want. To keep the act up, Nerevar instead grit his teeth, pushing the warm, fuzzy feelings down. 

“I don’t want a fucking child!” He growled, putting as much venom as he could into his words. “Especially not from that House Dres bastard--!” He channeled all the rage he felt when Anaryl would hold him down, mocking him. However, at his outburst, Voryn’s sharp nails pricked his thighs, digging in just enough that it started to hurt. At the small pricks of pain on his inner thighs he was groaning loudly, somewhere between pain and pleasure. 

“Behave yourself…” Voryn scolded, before his hand instead moved up, slipping past Nerevar’s undergarments to his arousal. His lips then close around a nipple, swirling his tongue around it and the nice, gold studs Voryn had put on him. Nerevar was whimpering now as his lips pulled away, now gently nibbling on the sensitive bud, his fingers only teasingly stroking him. “Gods… You really do get off on me punishing you, don’t you?”

“I don’t--” Nerevar tried to argue, but was cut off with another nip to his chest, a pathetic sound falling out of his lips somewhere between a sharp cry and a choked whimper. 

“Mm… Once again your body is honest…” Voryn purred. “You’re so wet for me…” Two fingers slid inside him, making him gasp and pant with desire, trying to rock his hips back against the sensation. “You were just as wet the first night I took you too… Laid out on my bed in chains, whipped until you could barely struggle, taking every inch of me into this perfect body of yours…”

“Stop it…” Nerevar groaned again. The mental image wasn’t unwelcomed though, all things considered. Maybe it was because he was already incredibly turned on, but the idea of being tied or chained up just for Voryn was also arousing. 

“If I could,” Voryn began, his fingers moving faster, “I’d find a way to cure you. If you don’t want a child from that man, I’m certain you’d love one from me…” Nerevar gripped Voryn’s shoulders tighter as Voryn thrusted against the perfect spot, making his legs tremble. The noises spilling from his mouth were quickly turning to pleasure, as he felt his orgasm coming on. “Oh Neht…” Voryn's voice took on a new tone, this time desperate and sick with want. “You’d look so perfect, heavy with my child…” He moaned softly against Nerevar’s skin, before leaving another mark on his collarbone. “I’d finally have made your body all mine~” 

Fuck, Nerevar was close. So damn close--he just needed a bit more, just a bit more--

Voryn suddenly slipped his fingers out, just as Nerevar reached the edge, earning a loud, angry cry. Still, he had no time to protest as Voryn quickly shoved his back to the desk, pulling his legs open. 

Well, Nerevar hadn’t expected Voryn to actually fuck him on his desk. He thought it would be Voryn taking him on the lounge, or Nerevar riding him on the chair. However this was very welcomed, Nerevar more than eager to part his legs and lick his lips as Voryn quickly began tugging his own robes open and Nerevar’s underwear off. Still, Nerevar wanted to use the freedom he had knowing they weren’t being watched, and slid two fingers down to roll them around his dick as Voryn stripped down to nothing but his inner robes barely clinging to him. He made eye contact with Voryn as he did so, smirking the whole while, before Voryn pulled his hand away and pressed his cock inside. 

“I want every part of you, Neht.” Voryn moaned, giving a few gentle thrusts at first. “I want to have you in a way no one else ever will…” The possessive tone of his voice was only exciting Nerevar more as Nerevar looped a leg around Voryn, clinging to him. “I love your anger, your tears, and every little moan of pleasure that spills from your lips…” 

“Fuck~!” Nerevar groaned. It sounded like a hell of a love confession, one Nerevar desperately wanted to be true. 

“No one else can love you like I can,” Voryn groaned, laying out over his body and pressing messy kisses to his jaw. “No one else deserves you--you perfect, dangerous, intoxicating thing…” 

“Stop talking like that~” Nerevar moaned loudly, despite loving every second of it. “Stop talking like a lover while you--while you do this~” 

“Oh? But I am your lover, aren’t I?” Voryn pressed a quick, messy kiss to Nerevar’s lips. “Mmm~ If I could marry you, I would… I’d make you my husband, Neht~” Nerevar shuddered and whined at the idea. House Dagoth would never allow it; Nerevar was legally a slave in the eyes of the public, barely good enough to warm Voryn’s bed. But gods he’d love to be clothed in House Dagoth’s robes, golden marriage mask on his face, and wedded to Voryn. “I only ever want children from you too…” Voryn nipped and sucked along his neck, as Nerevar felt his orgasm coming on once again. “I’ll pray to the three every damn day in hopes of a miracle--I’d even name your child my heir~” 

He finally came, gasping and moaning under Voryn as Voryn continued to fuck him hard and fast, chasing his own completion. He continued to talk, moaning and whispering the sweetest things in Nerevar’s ears, but he was too far gone in his own pleasure to hear it. Every nerve in his body felt so wonderful, tingling and alight with pleasure. 

“That’s it…” Voryn whispered as he too found release, listening to Nerevar moan once again. “So good for me, taking everything…” He then rubbed back and forth against Nerevar’s cock, making him gasp and tremble. 

“S-stop…” He whined. “I can’t--”

“Yes you can,” Voryn cooed. “Cum for me, Neht.”

“I-I can’t~!” He was trembling, pleasure overwhelming him. 

“I want to make sure my seed takes.” Voryn purred in his ear, earning a long, sharp whine. It was an old wives tale that an orgasm made you more likely to conceive. It was like he was actually trying to knock Nerevar up right now, holding him down, whispering and praising him the whole while, all while Nerevar could feel Voryn’s cum inside him. 

“I can’t--get pregnant…” Nerevar groaned, his eyes rolling back slightly. 

“It’s just a little fantasy, Neht…” Voryn whispered. “Just give me this…” Fuck, it was just like the little lie Voryn told to the noblemen from House Dres. That he intended to lie to Nerevar, lulling him into a false sense of security… 

Nerevar covered his mouth with his hand as he came, muffling all the words spilling from his mouth. No doubt it would be incoherent babbling for the most part, but he didn’t want a spy hearing anything they shouldn’t. 

“Good boy…” Voryn whispered in his ear. “Such a good boy for me…” Voryn peppered more kisses on his cheeks as he came down from the high of his orgasm for a second time. “Now, let’s get you all cleaned up for dinner…”