#I couldn’t bare to look at them anymore

[monstersflashlight]

Okay, hear me out: Oviposition with your insect-morph or alien partner that can go either to a cnc/dubcon play space if you want, but like...reader slowly becomes addicted to being a broodmother. Bonus points if reader is a fembunny with strong breeding instinct? :3

A/N: Hi there! This was hella fun to write, I though it would make more sense not to make reader a bunny hybrid but hope this meets all your expectations, I personally think turned out pretty good. (Also want to recommend this Stardew Valley fic because it’s the first time I read brood-mother kink and it def changed my perspective). Enjoy!

Brood-mother

Insect-monsters x fem!reader || oviposition, free use, heavy dub-con, breeding, brood-mother kink, aphrodisiacs

You walked into that cave without idea, without knowing what the fuck you were supposed to do there. When the wizard hired you for a special mission, going as far as looking specifically for you because apparently you had everything he needed, you didn’t argue much. He said some cryptic stuff as he gave you instructions to walk into the cave and look for something, he only said you’ll know when you found it, and you, silly you, accepted. It was good money, and it seemed simple enough, even if the wizard was creepy as fuck and you didn’t even know what you were looking for.

You had been walking in the cave for less than ten minutes when you felt something against your back, and you fell face down to the ground. You didn’t have time to turn around, didn’t have time to react before you felt some slimy substance around your hands and ankles. It was disgusting and you tried to get it off but you couldn’t move, the substance pinned you down to the ground. You were panicking, unable to move in any direction… and then you felt it. It was like tiny pokes against your back, against your legs, and buzzing sounds that made you shiver. What was that?

You turned your head to the side in time to see a bunch of crawling-insects running in your direction, you were about to scream when something was shoved inside your mouth. You didn’t know what it was, but it tasted amazing and you latched to it, sucking strongly to get more of that substance. The reaction was fast, your whole body getting hotter as you felt the first insects getting to your body.

The tore your clothes off, your body being stripped as you groaned and moaned against the weird thing in your mouth, unable to scream, unable to stop sucking that sweet nectar that was driving you slowly insane. You barely remembered the words of the wizard when they said you would be prepared and ready when they arrived. What seemed cryptic at the moment made total sense when you realized they were preparing you for them, they were making sure you were fertile and breedable for them.

They needed a queen… and they found you.

That was your last thought before you felt something akin to a cock was shoved into your pussy without preamble. It felt weird, ridged and harder than a human penis, but it rubbed against your walls in a way that made your head dizzy with pleasure as you got wetter and wetter. It didn’t take long before you felt the appendage parting inside of you, the side pressing against your G-spot, the tip probing at your cervix before something was inserted into your uterus. An egg. They were laying eggs inside of you. You wanted to run away, to scream… to care. But it felt so good. It felt too good and your brain wasn’t even yours anymore, you could only think of pleasure and breeding, of being full of them so you could be their queen. Their real queen.

That cock was pulled out and another took its place, thrusting into your body without mercy as you squirmed in pleasure, your pussy convulsing as you came around it. Another egg was pushed inside you. And another dick shoved inside your dripping pussy. An egg. A dick. An egg. A dick. It was an intoxicating circle that drove your brain and body into a frenzy.

You’d never felt something like that, being at the complete mercy of creatures you couldn’t even name was making you aroused, aroused to the point of juices pooling under your body. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, but deep down you knew you were just perverted, and the fact that you were just a fuck-hole to breed for them… it made you hot. The idea that you will be pregnant with all their eggs… it made your clit tingle harder as another egg was pushed inside of you. It was intoxicating.

It continued for hours, they pumped you so full of eggs you felt about to explode, your stomach distended pushed your body into an awkward angle that only made your pussy more available for the next round. So many of them filled you, you lost count of how many eggs there could be inside of you. You came so many times you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

But then the buzzing stopped. “Shush little explorer, I’ve sent them away, they already did their job… They found the brood-mother,” the creepy voice of the wizard resonated inside your half asleep brain as you felt the slimy restrains disappear and he took your body, too tired to fight back.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

First off your writing is incredible. I was in literal tears reading your Daryl fic.

But I thought I'd send in a request, a jealous Daryl. Doesnt have to be established reader, pretty easy. I just like it when he's all riled up. 😂 Please and thank you

Jealousy

Summary: He could have just told her, couldn’t he? That would have been simple. He’d had to yell at her instead though, because Daryl can never do things the usual way round. Hand down her skirt and about to run away for the second time really was more his style.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Nervous!Daryl. Angst. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Alexandria era. Vague, very short smut.

A/N: Thank you for this request and the beautiful compliment! I may have rushed the editing a little so if you notice any errors please tell me!

It’s not that she’s been avoiding him, it’s the complete opposite, she’s absolutely, inarguably, infuriatingly normal. He’s clawing at the walls of his own brain and she’s acting as if everything is fine. Maybe it is, he thinks, maybe she’s over it, maybe she’s been over it since the second he screwed it up and he’s the only one still hanging on to whatever it was in the first place. He can’t even claim he’s hanging on to much, they’d barely even kissed and it was months ago, but he hadn’t exactly been good at this kind of thing before the world threw a damn apocalypse into the mix.

He’d loved her since the moment he’d heard her laugh. He’d found her in a cabin in the woods on a run, just after Woodbury had fallen, back when the prison was still strong. He didn’t want to bring her back, one more mouth to feed, one more person to keep an eye on, but she’d saved him from a rogue walker he hadn’t seen coming, shrugged like it was nothing, like she’d have done it for anyone. She’d offered him food and water, a rundown but relatively safe place to lay low for a few hours, she was kind. The words were tumbling from his lips before he’d really thought about them.

He’d avoided her for a good while, despite her efforts to befriend him, he’d lost so much already he didn’t want to let her in. But then he’d said something sarcastic, something snappy and prissy and she’d laughed; an honest to goodness belly laugh that had her head throwing back and him smiling from the side of his mouth despite himself and something deep in his chest felt warm.

So he’d loved her, quietly and from a distance. Safe. Until she’d kissed him.

He watches as she laughs, the same laugh, big and warm and real. It’s not aimed at him, and he hates it. After he’d run away from her, he worried he wouldn’t hear it again, but he’d been wrong, and this was worse. He taps his fingers against his thigh, trying to keep a scowl from his face. Failing. He thinks steam would come out of his ears if it were within the realm of possibility.

He’s always too late. Always takes too long to get comfortable. Always spends so long waiting that he misses out on the thing he wanted, and she’s not a thing but his blood is fucking boiling. At the man she’s talking to, at himself, at her too if he’s a little honest.

The man, who’s name he doesn’t know and now never wants to, is handsome. If you’re into that suburban, well groomed, boring kind of thing. He has a punchable face. Daryl is not allowed to punch people unless its necessary anymore, Rick has told him that explicitly but surely flirting with his…flirting with the woman he’s in lo…flirting with her makes it necessary.

He can’t stand the thought that he might not be the last person to kiss her lips. He can’t stand looking any longer, but he doesn’t mean for his knife to clatter loudly on the floor as he tries to flee. He doesn’t dare turn around, but he’d be able to tell she was looking at him even in pitch black. Knows she’s watching the solid, tense set of his shoulders as he retreats.

-

She startles at the sight of him sitting on her porch, quickly schooling her face into the nonchalance she’s been practicing around him since they arrived. It was easy enough, on the road, to pretend he hadn’t hurt her. They were so busy trying to survive, so busy being busy that she could avoid an inevitable conversation where she’d had to apologise for getting their wires crossed.

But since they’ve been behind the walls of Alexandria? She can’t stop herself from searching him out, finding excuses to be near him, trying to act like they were back at the prison. Friends. She can do friends. She has been absolutely nailing being just friends, as long as she can ignore the tightness in her chest and the way she feels like she’s going to cry every time she walks away. Friends.

She flips the knife in her hand with ease, shielding his hand from the blade as she passes it back to him. He nods his thanks as he squints up at her.

“What crawled up your ass tonight?” She asks, but there’s a teasing smile on her face as leans against the railing to her house. The porch light is dim, warm golden yellow illuminating them. Daryl hasn’t been one for a lot of words in a long time, but he intends to bat the question away, distract her with something funny, something acerbic but good natured. Friendly, he can do friendly. He can’t, could barely do it on the road after everything happened. Now though, when she’s showered and brushed her hair and dressed up, lit up by a damn porch light? He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Dun’ kiss him”

“What the fuck?”

Fists clenching to calm himself down, unfurling them when he feels more grounded, he looks up at her again, daring to lock his eyes onto hers.

“Ya like him…tha’ guy?” He tries to keep his voice steady, hopes she doesn’t understand he’s begging her to say no, begging for her to give him a chance, but how many can one man have?

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Dun’ kiss him, please” He asks again, with a shake of his head, knocking his hair in front of his eyes as the ground in front of him becomes the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. She sighs quietly, but the sound reverberates in his brain, he can hear the disappointment that weighs it down, the disappointment he’d hoped to avoid by avoiding talking about this thing between them entirely.

“I’m not having this conversation with you on the porch” She pushes herself off the railing, turning to open the front floor. She means for him to leave but he follows her inside, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh as he closes the door behind him. Every part of his body is telling him to run.

“I know I ain’t got no right t’ ask”

“No, you don’t. Why are you asking?”

“‘cause I can’t stand it”

“Why do you care?”

“’cause ya shouldn’t be wit’ him!”

“Who should I be with then, Daryl? Huh?” He doesn’t respond, not that she expects him to, head hanging low toward the ground “You have no answer, because it’s not you, is it? You didn’t want me!”

“I didn’t-what?”

He’d tried to make it obvious, had given her extra food, had nudged her shoulder with his, had talked to her more than anyone else. But she’d tried to kiss him and he’d fled, had retreated safely back into the comfort of his walls. Then he’d come back. He’d kissed her and again he’d fled. Daryl Dixon is the human embodiment of emotional whiplash. He knows he’s not easy, but he thought at least he’d been clear, he can’t imagine the way he looks at her has ever been subtle.

“I did want ya”

Her mind thinks over the weeks he’s been standoffish, the time he’s spent avoiding her touches, thinks back the first week they’d arrived here and he’s barely spoken a word, all the while watching her with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if she hadn’t wanted his attention.

“I can’t do this, you can’t play with my head because you’re jealous all of a sudden”

“Ain’t jealous” He argues, knowing they both know he’s lying, but he still, even now, won’t let himself be vulnerable. “I know I fucked up, ‘kay? I know, but I’m ‘ere now!”

He snarls, frustrated and bordering on vicious, practically diving towards her as his hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise. He smashes his lips against hers, unpractised and clumsily before his brain catches up and he goes to pull away. Her response is so fast he doesn’t get a chance, dragging him back in as his brain shuts down.

The kiss is hard, angry and fast, all hip bones pressing into hip bones and teeth clacking against teeth. It’s not the romantic, affectionate start she was hoping for. It’s not the gentle steady and slow he was. She’s angry, he is too she can feel it in his body as he presses it against her.

The room spins, air thick and foggy with months’ worth of frustration, tension so thick it could be cut, it’s only when he swallows a heady, deep moan from her that he realises he needs more. Tongue sweeping into her mouth he grips the fabric of her skirt in his hand, bunching it up until he can reach an insistent, rough calloused hand inside her underwear, ripping his lips away from hers to heave a breath in. She’s soaked, dripping around his fingers and he’ll have time to be absolutely fucking floored by that when he recounts this later. His forehead sticks to hers as she moans.

It’s not that he hasn’t had trysts before, it’s just that they were short and unimportant, he’s barely been confident enough to use his hands. He wants to touch her in the right way, wants to know what he’s doing but she’s snaking a hand into his trousers and wrapping her fingers around his cock so thinking isn’t the top of his priorities right now.

It feels incredible, and in the vague recess of his brain he thinks he should have done this at a pace he'd be more comfortable with but he hasn’t done this in years, and barely successfully then so its not long before he comes all over her hand, whining as his head dips down to pant heavily against her collarbone. His fingers still, embarrassed and suddenly full of crippling self-doubt. She knows he’s going to remove them about a second before he does.

A thud echoes through the suddenly too big room as she tips her head back to hit the wall behind her.

“You leaving?” She lets out an incredulous laugh, hurt, betrayed, surprisingly unsurprised. The zip on his trousers seems louder than anything she’d yelled at him less than an hour before. It feels like an eternity before she lowers her head to look at him, doesn’t bother to mask the absolute disappointment on her features.

“I-uh-yeah-I”

She can practically see the walls slamming back up around him, the walls she’s been watching for weeks. A tear rolls down her cheek as he turns away from her, heading towards the front door.

“You don’t get another chance with me, Daryl” the finality in her voice makes him pause, hand on the doorknob. She sighs, hating that she’s about to give him the grace she is “You need to make up your mind, because I’m not waiting for you, not again. If you’re not certain by tomorrow you need to leave me alone”

The shaky nod from him is so small its almost imperceptible.

-

She’s not expecting the knock on her door as soon as the sun is up, really she isn’t. The whole night has been sleepless and filled to the brim with dread, knowing for sure that he wants her but fully believing he will never be able to let himself have her. She isn’t unaware of Daryl’s tendency to self-destruct. Maybe this is it, she thinks, maybe he values her enough as a friend if nothing else, to tell her face to face, but he’d never been able to before and the tiniest hint of hope lights her up as she treads carefully down the stairs.

Daryl stands there with a small, nervous but hopeful smile on his face. The hope hasn’t missed him, either. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, so out of his depth he might as well be drowning, but the knowledge that she wants this too means he’d rather fumble his way through this with her than do well without her.

“I’m a’ idiot”

“Yes you are” She laughs, setting him alight on the inside. The laugh that started al of this, almost. Doubt underneath her voice is the thing that finally settles it for him, makes him pull her towards him, gentle this time, the way he’d wanted. He’ll never let her doubt his feelings even when he doubts himself.

“I always wanted ya” he murmurs against her lips before closing the distance.

“You’re not going to run away again?”

“Ain’t runnin’, ain’t ever runnin’ again”

[luveline]

jade!! can we please get something with junie’s mom and eddie? <3 missing them today

thank you for requesting! 1.3k

Eddie met you two weeks after you moved into the park, he’s pretty sure. Your baby ran out down the road because you didn’t know that all the trailers have the same bum lock, and she ended up on the Munson porch trying to get back home. 

He still remembers how she could barely talk. He had no idea how quickly babies explode with words. 

“Love you.” Junie smiles up at him, her waiting for a reciprocation all the more impressive. She’s just turned three, and Eddie would argue she doesn’t look it. She’s still a baby in his head. 

“I love you,” he says, leaning down to tap their noses together. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

Just a few short months ago she would’ve shouted “Hug!” and dove into his neck, or said nothing at all. He doesn’t see why that should change. 

“Babe, you don’t have to ask,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. 

She sighs in contentment, relaxing under his hand where he pulls it up and down her back. She’s getting bigger. Eddie can’t believe she’s already three. Where the hell does the time go? Days, weeks slip away. 

But at least they’re with you. God, he can’t believe they’re with you. 

“I’m feeling left out,” you say, laying on the floor of the trailer with your hands held over your chest. You’d been colouring with June a half hour ago, but she got bored fast and left you there. You’ve yet to get up. 

Eddie twists June in his lap so she can see you. He hugs her, and he presses his face to the top of her head, one eye open to see you and the other screwed closed. “You want us to come over?” he asks. 

You think about it. “No. I’m too tired to hug.” 

You’re always tired. Eddie knows that there’s a life he could give you one day where you don’t have to work. He’s not sure you’d let him, but he’d like to get promoted and move you out. He’d like to ask you properly to be his forever, to be permanent, and to live together as a family. Wayne’s telling him not to rush into things, but he really didn’t. You and Eddie were friends for half a year before he finally couldn’t take it anymore, and he doesn’t see that time as wasted, but he knows now that getting to kiss you is something he missed out on. 

Plus, being your boyfriend means he’s actually allowed to take care of you without dousing you in shame. You like being looked after. It’s why Eddie works a ten hour shift and comes straight home to you, so he can fold your laundry and you can get some rest. 

Every time you yawn, it’s a reminder for Eddie that he’s not making your life as easy as he could. (It’s not a healthy way to think about it. It’s not your fault or his that life is hard. But he thinks about it anyway.) 

Eddie gives June a kiss behind the ear and sets her down in the corner of the couch. He grins at her as he does, hoping for a detachment without tears, popping his head into his hand in mock nonchalance. “Babe, I’m gonna go hug your mom back to life. I’ll be right back. Cool?” 

“Cool.” 

Eddie pats her knee and she sits back to watch as he drops to the floor on his knees, crawling around crayons and gel pens and markers to your side. You laugh, flinching as his hand lands on your stomach, but he’s not there to tickle you. He holds your face in the other hand, really holds it, bending time. The mental snapshot he takes of you tired and lovely regardless can join an endless gallery. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says. 

“So are you.” 

“You want some help getting up?” he asks. 

You nod your affirmation. Eddie slides his hands under your arms, murmurs a too tender, “I got you,” as you sit up. He stands and pulls you with him, half drags your tired limbs to the couch where your girl is still sitting patiently. 

He puts you down. Kisses your cheek, throws a blanket across your knees. He picks Junie up to sit where she’d been in the corner and promptly settles with her on his thigh, the other arm open. 

“We’re napping?” Junie asks. 

“Would that be okay?” Eddie asks. “Mom’s tired.” 

“I’m not tired,” Junie says. 

“I know, baby, me neither. I was thinking we’d just lay here and hug mommy for a while, and then we’d have lunch.” 

“I don’t need a nap,” you say, though your eyes are heavy, darting to the empty place in his arms carved out especially for you. 

“Then just hug me,” Eddie whispers. Commanding, disbelieving, he knows you’ll be dozing in five minutes or less. All you need is a little light goading. 

You lay against his side. Junie wiggles to be on her front, chest to chest with Eddie as he sinks down. He kicks up his legs beside you, the three of you collapsing inward, his favourite girls in the world. 

There’s argument on if you can choose your family or not. Eddie doesn’t remember choosing you, just suddenly knowing you, and ever so slowly loving. He loves your face, your arms, the way you breathe. He loves how you turn into his chest and how you seem thrilled to be there, your hand coasting a loving line across him, fingers pressing into his stomach. It’s like you’re waving on his skin. He has no idea where you learned how to touch someone with that much love, but he leans down to kiss the skin just shy of your hairline so you know he feels it. 

Junie’s all little legs and sweetness as she yawns on his shoulder. “Mom, can I have some… some blanky?”

You pull it off your legs to cover hers. Eddie squares it up. Everyone covered, he lets his head tip back against the couch.

He’s not tired. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep. You fall asleep first in a slow series of exhales he knows well, that deepening, your fingers growing still against his t-shirt. 

Junie goes second. She squirms at first, not wanting to give in, but Eddie’s getting better at his dad-pats. He finds the space on her lower back, her off button ever since he’s known her, and he taps his hand against it until she’s breathing heavily against his neck. 

“Eddie?” she asks tiredly. 

“What, rockstar?” 

“Goodnight.” 

He scratches her back lightly. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Do you need me to take you to bed?” 

“No. We can sleep on you.” 

“Who should I sleep on?” he whispers. 

She shakes her head. Unhappy with his question, or maybe her nose is itchy. She falls asleep with her face pressed to his chest a few seconds later, leaving Eddie awake and unsure of what to do now. He trapped himself. 

He can’t find it in himself to mind, worried first about boredom, and then struck with a realisation. How could he ever be bored with you under his arm? 

He has time now to trace your nose, count your eyelashes, whatever he likes. 

“Love you,” he says, pressing his nose to your head. 

It takes a few seconds. “Love you,” you murmur. 

He rubs your arm until you’re sleeping again. It was selfish of him to wake you, but he’d wanted to hear it.

[k-nayee]

Ghost Town BNHA

wc: 2.8k a/n: Song Inspiration: Ghost Town by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You fill me up 'til you're empty...

The late afternoon sun casted a warmth over school grounds as you chatted with  Uraraka and Midoriya.

It was nice as the three of you walked together; even the greenette, who usually had a hard time speaking to girls, laughed along with your teasing comments.

Bakugo stood a little ways off, watching. His crimson eyes were sharp with a certain tension in his expression that hadn’t been there earlier that day.

Normally he would’ve made some snide comment by now, especially seeing you standing so close to the timid boy.

But today, Bakugo wasn’t himself.

He approached you in deliberate strides, his jaw set. You noticed the way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, almost as if he was holding himself back.

As he neared, you felt a flicker of something—nervousness? Excitement?—you couldn’t quite place it. Bakugo always had a way of stirring something inside you, no matter the circumstance.

“Oi,” he barked, voice unusually serious. “We need to talk.”

I took too much and you let me...

Conversation around you fizzled as Uraraka and Midoriya exchanged confused glances. You, too, blinked in surprise. Normally, Bakugo wasn’t this direct—not with you, anyway.

He was blunt, sure, but not like this. There was a hardness to his tone, an edge that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “What’s up, Katsuki?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes flickering to the duo. You take the hint and turn to the pair, giving them a quick wave. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

As your friends walked away the air between you and Bakugo thickened. He turned abruptly, heading toward the school building without a word, leaving you no choice but to follow.

When you reached an empty classroom, you slip inside, Bakugo shutting the door behind with a soft click. The familiar scent of chalk and old textbooks filled the space, but it did nothing to ease the growing tension.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there with his hands still in his pockets, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. His usual gruffness was gone—replaced by something much colder, much more distant.

We’ve been down all these roads before...

You watched him, waiting, hoping that he would explain whatever was weighing him down.

“Katsuki?” you step closer, voice soft. You offer him a bright smile, the kind that usually softened his rough edges.

But today, it didn’t reach him. He barely looked at you.

A sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain. You reached out, your fingers just grazing his sleev—

“I want to break up.”

And what we found don’t live there anymore...

You took a step back, feeling as if his words had physically struck you. Your heart pounded in your chest until it echoed in your ears, drowning out the silence that had fallen between you.

“…What?” The word barely escaped your lips, a fragile whisper as your mind struggled to comprehend what he’d just said.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, and for a fleeting moment, his crimson eyes met yours. He stiffened at the sight of you—vulnerable, confused.

Your brows furrowed in pain, your lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back the hurt. Seeing you like this made something inside him twist sharply.

But just as quickly, he tore his gaze away, refusing to let you see the storm raging inside him. 

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you with a sharp wave of his hand, “only happened out of obligation.”

Obligation...

The word hit you harder than the breakup itself.

He continued, his tone bitter.  “You know how the old hag was. Always on my ass, hounding me to give you a chance.”

It's dark...

Your mind reeled. You met Bakugo in middle school and from that moment you’d been drawn to him.

He was rough and brash with a fire that burned everything he did, and that only made you more determined to get close to him.

Your crush had been obvious, but you never shied away from it. You pursued him with a confidence that even now looking back you admired.

And yes, Bakugo had been difficult—dishing out the usual sharp remarks, disrespect dripping from every word. But still, you never backed down.

You tolerated it—not out of weakness, but because you refused to be intimidated by him.

You met his fire with your own; challenging him and pushing back, not afraid to give him the same energy he threw at the world.

It's cold...

At first you were just an affectionate annoyance to him. Always hanging around, always inserting yourself into his space. But with time, you grew on him—though he’d never admit it.

You became a part of his life, slipping past the walls he put up around everyone. He never asked for it, but he came to expect your presence—to crave it in ways he didn’t understand.

And now, standing in this empty classroom you could barely recognize him.

For a moment your voice felt lost. The Bakugo in front of you—saying these words and shutting himself off—was a stranger.

Something inside you knew he was lying. He had to be.

“…You’re lying.” Your voice came out weak, trembling.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your words hung in the air fragile, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But you knew Bakugo. He was a lot of things—angry, hotheaded, unpredictable—but he wasn’t a liar. Not to you.

If my hand is not the one you're meant to hold...

You searched his face for any hint of truth, any crack in his exterior. But his expression was hard, closed off in a way you hadn’t seen in so long.

“I’m not, and you know it!” His voice was sharp, louder than before with anger lacing every word.

His lips press into a thin line as his teeth into the flesh to keep the words trapped inside—the sorrys, the desperate apologies. Taking one last look at your face, he turns away with a scoff.

His chest tightened as he try to hold back the wave of guilt that threatened to swallow him whole.

But he couldn’t let it out. If he did, it’d be over. He wouldn’t be able to do this.

Wouldn’t be able to let you go.

"You are!" Your voice cut through the silence more sure this time. He could hear the determined steps you took toward him, the confidence in your voice making it even harder to breathe.

You were close now, close enough that he could feel your warmth even though he kept his back to you. He didn’t dare turn around.

"Tell me you don’t love me if you’re serious." You dared him, forcing him to confront the truth you already knew. "Because the Katsuki I know will tell me the truth, because he isn’t afraid of the consequences."

You know I'll stay don't you tempt me...

The words echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls he had built around himself. And for a second, just a second, Bakugo faltered.

His resolve wavered at the sound of your belief in him—a belief he didn’t deserve, not after everything he was about to do.

Your confidence made his head spin, made the words in his throat turn to ash.

But no matter how much your voice reached out to him the doubt gnawed at him. The weight of every fear and insecurity clawing at the edges of his mind.

Do it, the voice whispered. You don’t deserve her. She deserves better, someone who can give her the kind of love you can’t.

The voice grew louder, drowning out everything else. They took root in his mind; poisoning every thought and emotion until all he could feel was the crushing weight of his own incompetence.

But all this weight is getting heavy...

"You want the truth?” Before he could stop himself the words ripped from his throat.

Turning around to face you with a vicious glare, his voice was laced with venom. “I can’t keep letting an extra like you drag me down!"

The second the words left his mouth the air between you seemed to freeze. Your footsteps, even the sound of your breathing—it all stopped.

The world felt like it had come to a standstill.

Bakugo's heart hammered in his chest as he forced himself to keep going. "You're not even in the hero course!"

Though meant to hurt and push you away, as soon as they left his mouth, he felt a sickening twist in his gut. Still he couldn’t stop. He had to finish this.

“Keep following me around like a pathetic dog. I will be Number One, and I refuse to have any baggage slowing me down!" His voice rose, louder and harsher than he meant.

Every syllable spoken was coated in venom, cutting deeper and deeper with each passing second. And then—silence.

Been holding up what wasn't meant to stand...

No words. No movement. Just...nothing.

Bakugo grit his teeth, jaw tight as he waited—waited for you to scream, to lash out, to fight back like you always did. But nothing came.

The silence stretched on, wrapping around him like chains, pulling him down deeper into the pit he had dug for himself.

Then, came the sound of your sniffles. Soft and faint, the sound of your heart breaking. For years, you always worried that you weren’t good enough for Bakugo.

You didn’t have the flashy, powerful quirk that the others did. Hell, you weren’t even in the hero course! You were just a simple General Studies student.

That insecurity had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It always lingered in the back of your mind, whispering doubts whenever you saw Bakugo training, pushing himself harder than anyone else.

And it had only gotten worse when you started dating him. You couldn’t help but wonder if people looked at you and thought, How could someone like her ever deserve him?

I turned this love into a wasteland...

But Bakugo had always been there to shut those thoughts down. Harshly. Brutally. He never let you get away with doubting yourself, always snapping at you for thinking so low of yourself.

His scolding had been tough, unrelenting, but it was his way of caring—his way of showing you that he believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

And now...he was throwing all of that in your face.

His words cut deeper than you ever thought they could. He was attacking the very thing he had always defended you against.

The thing he had never let you believe about yourself. You weren’t in the hero course. You didn’t have a strong quirk. You weren’t like him.

Maybe you never would be.

The weight of his words pressed down on you, making your chest tight and throat constrict. You were so overwhelmed, so hurt, that you didn’t even notice one crucial thing.

He never said it.

Bakugo never said, “I don’t love you.”

But in your frantic state, your mind couldn’t latch onto that detail. Instead, it spiraled; twisting in on itself, unraveling every belief you’d ever held about his love for you.

Before I turn your heart into a ghost town...

Was everything he ever told you a lie? Was this how he truly felt all along?

'Was I just fooling myself this whole time?'

The thoughts came at you fast like a storm. Everything you thought was real—every tender moment, every quiet confession, every time Bakugo had pulled you close, even if he didn’t say the words outright—it all felt like it was shattering into pieces in front of you.

It was all too much. You couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t be here in this moment.

Not with him, not with those venomous words still hanging in the air between you.

Your vision blurred and you could feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, threatening to tear you apart from the inside.

Panic set in. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Every part of you screamed to get out, to run, to escape.

'I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t...'

Before you knew it your hand was on the door, slamming it open with a force that rattled the frame.

Show me everything we built so I can tear it all down...

The sound echoed through the empty halls as you bolted, your sobs finally breaking free from your lips.

The world outside the classroom was a blur. Your tears streamed freely now, hot and stinging against your cheeks. You didn’t care who saw you.

You just needed to get away, to be anywhere but here. Suddenly, your shoulder slammed into something—someone—knocking you off balance.

You gasped, the impact jarring you out of your spiral for a split second.

Your eyes barely registered the green hair before you stammered out a tearful, jumbled, "S-sorry!" Your voice cracked by the sobs that you couldn’t control.

Down...

Down, down, down...

Izuku stumbled back wide-eyed in shock, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But before he could ask what was wrong, you were already gone.

His fingers brushed the air where you had just been, mouth opened as if to call after you, but the words never came.

He watched helplessly as you disappeared down the hallway, your sobs echoing behind you like the remnants of a broken heart.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment longer, his brows furrowing in concern. “Wha...?”

His gaze flickered to where you had come from, the half-open door to the classroom still swinging slightly from your frantic exit.

What the hell just happened?

With a sinking feeling in his chest Izuku slowly approached the classroom door. Peering through the half-open door, he froze.

Tear it all down...

Inside the empty classroom stood Bakugo. The blonde had his back to the door as stared out the window.

Izuku had known Bakugo for a long time. He’d seen him angry, frustrated, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. But this...this was different.

This time he was silent. Completely and utterly still.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, quiet, as if he were afraid to break the silence.

Not receiving an answer, the freckled greenette took a cautious step into the room, one foot out just in case he needed to make a quick escape. “Why was ____ crying? Is everything al—”

“Izuku.”

Izuku’s words died in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. His name. Bakugo never called him by his real name. Ever.

Not unless something was really, really wrong.

Down...

Heart-broken, teary vermillion eyes are the first thing he sees.

“Y-Yeah?” Izuku stammered. He took another step forward, but he froze again when Bakugo finally turned around.

His face was twisted, lips trembling as if he were desperately trying to hold everything in. The raw emotion on his face—the vulnerability—was something Izuku had never seen before.

It was like looking at a stranger.

“Kacchan...” Izuku’s voice was barely a whisper. For a long moment, the two boys just stood there staring at each other in silence.

Izuku was in disbelief at the sight of Bakugo. His childhood friend, his rival, the one person he had always thought was untouchable—completely crumbling before him.

But the more time passed, the more Bakugo’s carefully constructed façade began to shatter. And then, with a strangled yell Bakugo folded in on himself.

His body shook violently as he hunched forward, arms wrapping around his middle as if he could physically hold himself together.

But it was no use. The dam had broken.

Down, down, down...

Izuku’s heart lurched in his chest, legs moving before his brain could even process what was happening. He rushed forward, catching Bakugo just as the blonde collapsed from the weight of his own emotions.

“K-Kacchan—Bakugo!” Izuku’s voice was panicked, his arms holding the teen to steady him, though he barely knew what to do. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Bakugo wasn’t supposed to break like this. He wasn’t supposed to fall apart. He was strong. Stronger than anyone.

And yet, here he was: trembling violently, sobbing uncontrollably in Izuku’s arms.

“I… I had to…” Bakugo choked out between gasping, shuddering breaths. His voice was barely recognizable, thick with pain and regret.

His hands clutched desperately at Izuku’s arms, as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I had to do it… I had to…”

Izuku tightened his grip, his mind racing as he tried to process what Bakugo was saying. “Had to? Had to do what?” he asked, his voice shaking as he looked down at Bakugo’s tear-streaked face, alarm written all over his features.

He’d never seen Bakugo like this—no one did.

Bakugo’s head fell forward, his messy blond hair shadowing his eyes as he gripped Izuku’s arms harder. “I had to let her go,” Bakugo rasped, his voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.

“...I had to.”

I'll tear it all down...

[ilwonuu]

𝖺𝗆， 𝗉𝗆？

❧𝗅𝖾𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗑❧

• 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－ 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅！𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗑 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆！𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋， 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖽𝗈𝗆！𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗑 𝗑 𝗌𝗎𝖻！𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

• 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾－ 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍， 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

• 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌－ 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍， 𝗇𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒．

• 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌－ 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗑 （𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌）， 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀， 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽－ 𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑， 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗍， 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄， 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 （𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒， 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾）， 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍， 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 （𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾）， 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀， 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾 （𝗒𝗎𝗆， 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 ♡︎♡︎

you and felix have only started dating recently and you are already all over each other. i mean- as it should be right? you knew he liked you and you were more than happy. he couldn’t bare normal things with you anymore. he was kissing you in 10 minutes. of course when you let him (when do you not) felix was particularly horny tonight. the pjs you decided to wear were driving him crazy.

the loose cut tank top you were wearing with your shirt black shorts. your slippers of course. felix couldn’t wait to climb in bed with you. the two of you eating some ice cream in the kitchen. you two always shared everything you wanted but today was different. felix was asking you for a bite every time. you went in for one. not without an added kiss in between.

“you might as well eat it out my mouth lix.” you giggled at his desperateness and he just looked at you with a smirk. “would you let me?” he smiled at you with an innocent smile as he took the ice cream bowl from your hands. he set in on the counter as he turned back to look at you. “what’s gotten into you tonight? where’s sweet lix?” you said playfully. you knew he was always sweet but never this naughty. you liked ever bit of it.

he didn’t bother responding as he leaned you against the counter to kiss you. you melted into his kiss instantly. how could you deny him? he looked all cute bare faced with his sweatpants and t-shirt on. you wanted to rip it off him. he grabbed your waist gently as he worked you around to the island counter behind the two of you. “you know-“ he said as he planted kisses along your neck.

“i was thinking about this all morning and all night- this outfit- god you make me crazy. i’ve never had to fight my self control so much.” he pulled you to kiss him again. this time you couldn’t hold back the noise you made. you moaned into your boyfriend’s mouth desperately. you needed him just as much as he needed you. he guided you to the bedroom you two shared. he didn’t want to wait anymore. he laid you back against he pillows as he eyes your chest.

your boobs look so good right now (in his opinion). he asked you permission with his eyes. making you moan out a yes when he got closer to your shirt. “everything about you- makes me want to get on my knees.” he whispered softly into your skin. he gently pushed your shirt up revealing your chest. he played with your tits a little as he continued to talk to you softly.

“i think about you in the morning- in the afternoon- at night. you are never not on my mind. all i want is to please you- the way you deserve to be pleased.” he pulled you into a sloppy kiss. he was devouring your lips. you could feel his need for you. he played with you tits a little more before moving to your shorts slowly. “want me to take them off love? whatever you want baby.” he let you lead him to where ever you wanted him most. he just wanted you to tel him exactly what you needed.

“can i- ride you lix?” his eyes have never sparkled more before. it’s like you read his mind exactly. “i’d love you to baby.” the next couple of minutes were to two of you trying to get naked as fast as you can. you climbed in his lap sloppily as you two finally stopped caring about the amount of clothes. you took off just enough for you to ride him. his hands were on your waist as he held you gently. he made sure to give kisses to your chest before he positioned you over his length. he kissed your neck and chest all over.

“how are you mine? perfect girl. everything about you. god i want you so bad baby.” he whispered into your ear as he finally helped you to the perfect position. “love you lix. all yours-“ you said with a smile as you lowered yourself on his length. both of you were shocked with how good it felt. usually you guys would use protection but you were to horny to care about that now.

“god- you’re so wet love. did i get you like this?” he kisses your ear as he helped you move slowly against him. he knew you were still adjusting to him but he knew exactly how to relax you. “a-always- lix fuck.” you were so far gone. the way he sounded when he let a whine of pleasure out was making your brain hazy.

“just like that- i love you so much. always making me feel so perfect.” he whispers soft praises into your skin as you start to move more against him. he pulled you into a passionate kiss. not failing to stop guiding you as you rode him. his lips were soft as always. you could never get tired of kissing them. felix let his hands roam you body.

both of your moans filling the air as he continued to give you everything you needed. he knew how to move his hips the best way up against you. both of you couldn’t stop even if you tried to. you had fell completely into pure pleasure as you neared your high. felix’s voice got deeper and dirtier with the things he said to you. you knew he was getting close too.

“l-lix- right there! i’m so close.” you threw your head back a he hit against the perfect spot. “right here? angel you look so pretty when you come for me.” he whispered into your ear softly as he felt you clench around him. “coming lix-“ he cut you off with a deep kiss against your lips. you felt him come shortly after you. you guys are ones to use protection but you know that with being on birth control that you can worry a little less. both you and felix are cautious- not today.

the feeling of his cum inside you had you ready for another round. your hips came to a final stop as your tiredly climbed off him. you smiled at your boyfriend as you kissed his head. he looked exhausted after the sex you two just had. “did i kill you lix?” you giggled as you moved his hair out of his face. “in the best way possible.” he gave you the sweetest kiss after that. you knew that the rest of the night was full of more kisses just like that.

꧁𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾꧂： 𝗁𝗂 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝗌！！ 𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌！！ 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁． 𝗂 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀！！ 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗁 （𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄！𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗑） 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖽𝖽 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 <𝟥 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽

[strvberrydoll]

CRIMSON TRAILS | Running Gun

Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader CW: mentions of past abuse, animal death, gun fight, period typical violence, injuries, blood loss, needles, in my mind John is 6’0 ok?? let me dream. WC: 7k A/N: and the story begins!! im giggling posting this eheh took me longer than expected to finish the chapter ‘cause i needed it to be impeccable. It’s nowhere near perfect but i fear my brain will melt if I look a second more at its google doc. As always let me know what you think and if you’d like to see more. Likes, reblogs and comments are highly suggested so I know what’s going on in your minds. Also! let me know if you want to be in the taglist

series masterlist | masterlist I AO3 link

The house always felt colder at night. Its long, empty hallways stretched out like an intricate maze, darkened by shadows that seemed to dance and twist with each flicker of candlelight. You had grown used to the chill that clung to your skin, used to the hollow feeling that echoed through the grand, oppressive mansion. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the distant tick of the grandfather clock at the end of the hall and the occasional clink of glass coming from the dining room downstairs.

You couldn’t sleep, like most nights, and wandered the corridors alone. Your little bare feet were silent against the polished floors as you wandered the empty corridors. Thankfully the second floor was empty, as all the maids were now occupied with a business party your father was hosting downstairs.

Not that it mattered, the maids barely looked at you anymore, and when they did, their eyes were sharp, filled with disdain. You heard them sometimes, whispering about you—how you were a burden, something unwanted. "The little ghost," they’d often call you, mocking how quiet and small you were. But it was the way your father looked at you that hurt most. Like you were the cause of everything wrong in his world. Like you had stolen something precious from him the day you were born.

Your chest tightened at the thought of him, and instinctively, your feet carried you toward the only place you ever felt safe.

A faint, warm glow spilled from beneath your brother’s door, a welcome contrast to the darkness of the house. You didn’t want to bother him, but you needed him. You always needed him. He was the only one who actually saw you, who cared for you in a world that seemed determined to treat you like a ghost and push you far away.

With a soft push, the door creaked open, revealing your brother, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was hunched over something, his dark hair messy from a long day. With the candlelight contrasting his frowning expression, he looked older than his sixteen years, but his eyes lit up when they met yours.

“Hey, Birdie,” he greeted, his warm voice chirped, though you could hear the exhaustion beneath it. “Can’t sleep again?”

You shook your head side to side and stepped into the room. The familiar scent of freshly washed bed sheets contrasted his usual scent of hay and tobacco wrapping around you like a blanket. He always smelled like the outdoors, like freedom. The kind of freedom that Governess Constance, the only person in that house aside from your brother that treated you like you were supposed to treat an eight years old kid, would read to you in one of your goodnight books.

“Come on then, sit here with me,” he said, patting the bed beside him. His voice was gentle, and as always, it soothed the growing ache in your chest. You scrambled up onto the bed, crossing your legs as you sat next to him.

On his lap was something wrapped in a soft cloth, the fabric fraying at the edges. He was working on it, carefully running a strange stone over the surface with long, practiced strokes. You watched in silence, following his every move with big curious eyes. The steady rhythm of the blade against the stone hypnotic.

“What’s that Isa?” You asked after a moment, your voice barely a whisper as you hugged one of his cushions.

Isaiah—your brother—hesitated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye before slowly unwrapping the cloth completely. Your breath caught in your throat as the object inside was revealed—a dagger. Not just any dagger, but a beautiful, intricately crafted one. The hilt was white adorned with swirling patterns with silver detailings, the blade gleamed in the candlelight, sharp and polished to perfection. A dangerous beauty.

“It’s for you,” he said quietly, holding it out for you to take.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “For me?” you asked, your small hands trembling as you reached for it. The material of the hilt was cooler against your skin, the weight of the dagger much heavier than it looked. “W-why are you giving me this?”

He sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment before putting one arm on your shoulder in a sideways embrace. “Because I can’t always protect you,” he said softly, the sadness in his voice startling you. He looked back at you then, his eyes shadowed with something you didn’t quite understand. “I’m not gonna be here much longer, Birdie.”

The words hit you like a punch much more painful than your father’s drunken beatings, knocking the air from your lungs. You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “What do you mean?” Your voice cracked, tears started to pool in your eyes and the dagger trembled in your hands. He didn’t respond and looked down.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head in denial. “You can’t. Y-you can’t leave me. You p-promised you’d stay. You promised!” the weight of the situation made your stutter come back. Your training with Miss Constance to tone it down out of the window in this moment.

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking with the weight of the lie. “I know I did.” He reached out, his rough hand cupping your small face, brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek. “But this family? This life? It’s killing me. And I don’t want to end up broken like him.”

Your chest felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. The room spun around you, and all you could focus on was the weight of the dagger in your lap, the one thing that felt real. You clutched it tighter, trying to ground yourself, trying to keep him here with you.

“But you’re a-all I hav-h-have,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “What am I supposed to do without y-you?”

Isaiah pulled you into a fierce hug, his arms wrapping around your small frame. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him, trying to memorize it. “Oh, my sweet, sweet sister, you’re gonna be alright,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re stronger than you think. And one day, when the time comes, you’ll use that dagger. You’ll protect yourself.”

Your tears soaked into his shirt, heavy sobs shaking your entire body. You didn’t want him to leave. He was the only one who cared, the only one who made you feel like you were more than just a shadow in your father’s house.

“Promise me you’ll come back,” you whispered, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt. “Promise me.”

He pulled back, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll come back for you, little Birdie,” he said, but there was something hollow in his voice. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You better.”

He smiled then, a small, sad smile. His eyes looked down at an identical set that was looking up at him, and for a moment, it was just the two of you. Two siblings, bound together in a world that had been cruel to them both since their birth. You wanted to hold onto him forever, to keep him from slipping away, but deep down, you knew you couldn’t. He was too restless, too wild for the cage your father had built around you.

In the morning, his room was empty. His bed was cold. A deep voice boomed through the halls calling his name, and then—

You jolted awake, your breathing unheaven as the remnants of the dream clung to your mind like a fog refusing to lift. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears, and for a moment, you thought you could still feel your brother’s arms tight around you, hear his voice whispering sweet promises he’d never keep. You laid there, staring up at the canvas roof of your tent, blinking against the bright light of the morning sun that filtered through the holes in the fabric.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your tired eyes, trying to shake off the memories that had followed you out of sleep. But they lingered, like the heavy, humid air that surrounded you.

Your hand drifted beneath your makeshift pillow, where his dagger laid sheathed. The leather now worn and cracked with age. You reached out and ran your fingers over it, the familiar pattern in the hilt soothing you like one of Miss Constance’s lullabies. It was the only part of him you had left, the only piece of your old haunted life that still mattered.

Your brother had told you you’d need it one day.

He’d been right.

But as much as you liked to extract yourself from reality and go to the comfort of your memories there was no time to dwell on the past. The present had demands of its own. The sun was already high in the sky, and the dry heat of October had begun to seep into the air of West Elizabeth, even though summer should have been a distant memory by now. It was unusual for the weather to be so hot this time of year, but the West had always been unpredictable. Today was no different. The earth around you was baked and dry, the sparse yellow grass crackling under your boots, and the few trees that shielded your camp offered little cover from the relentless sun.

You sighed and pushed yourself up to your feet, dusting off your floor length red skirt, stretching the stiffness from your limbs. Your camp, hidden in the Great Plains just outside of town, was modest—a second hand tent, a few basic supplies scattered around the campfire and your horse hitched on a nearby tree. It wasn’t much, but it kept you out of sight and away from trouble. Most of the time, anyway.

You washed your face, water splashing away the last remains of sleep and made a mental note to soon refill your bucket. As you prepared your coffee, your thoughts drifted back to your brother, to that final night you’d spent together. You wondered what he’d think of you now. A wanted woman. An outlaw, just like him. Though you doubted he’d wanted that for you.

But choices have consequences and your consequences, for better or for worse, led you to this life.

Finishing your coffee you put out the small fire as best as you could. You approached your horse Willow—a beautiful Ardennes with strawberry roan you managed to steal away from home. She nickered softly as you approached and gave her a gentle pat on the neck before slipping the saddle onto her strong back. You had errands to run today, groceries to buy and supplies to collect. The trip into Blackwater made you uneasy every time, but it couldn’t be helped. You needed to eat, and there were only so many supplies you could steal without drawing attention to yourself. So far, you’d been careful. You’d kept your head low, using a fake name, and stayed out of sight.

But Blackwater was dangerous territory. Given that it was the second largest town in the untamed west, the law had eyes everywhere, and bounty hunters passed through the town circling like vultures over dead meat.

Your wanted posters had been plastered all over the North East American regions. The first months after the day that sealed your fate you found the paper manifesto in a town nearby where you grew up. The paper inked with some vague artist’s rendering of your face and beneath your portrait written in all capitals was your name with a 500$ reward for whoever caught you, preferably alive. The portrait didn’t resemble you enough to get you caught. Yet, you decided to completely flee the region, finding yourself wandering in the famous uncivilized west.

Mounting your horse you steered her out of the camp, the town of Blackwater looming in the distance. The ride into town was quiet, the road dusty and empty save for the occasional wagon passing in the distance. The heat was oppressive, the sun beating down on your head, making sweat bead on your forehead. By the time you reached the outskirts of town, your shirt clung to your skin, the dry dusty wind doing little to cool you off.

Blackwater was bustling with life by the time you arrived. The town had grown over the months you spent in the region, more folk moving in, more buildings popping up along the main street. Wagons creaked along the dirt roads, horses snorted, and people moved about their business with the kind of hurried energy that only came with trying to escape the midday heat. You kept your head low, as you guided your horse down the main street.

“Cornwall City Railway expanding ever more with rumors of the works coming to Blackwater. Come and read more Ladies and Gents!”

The newspaper seller shouted as you dismounted outside the general store and tied your horse to the nearest hitching post. Your eyes scanned the street for any signs of trouble, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just folks living their lives as usual. For a brief moment, you let yourself relax.

Inside the general store, the cool air offered a momentary relief from the unforgiving heat outside. You greeted the shopkeeper and moved through the aisles quickly, picking up fruits, canned good, coffee, and a few other essentials for camp. The shopkeeper, an older man with a long thick beard, barely looked at you as you placed the goods on the counter.

"That all?" he asked, his voice disinterested as he bagged your items. So much for customer service.

You nodded, sliding a few bills across the counter. He took them without a word, and you turned on your heel, leaving the store as quickly as you’d entered. The exchange was quick, with no questions, no lingering looks, you wondered if that was for the best. You stowed your items on Willow's back, gifting her an apple before resuming your chores.

Your next stop was the post office.

As you entered the wooden building you were met with a couple of empty benches, the wooden building almost empty save for the post office clerk and another man. The post office clerk, a tired-looking man with silver thinning hair, was shuffling through a stack of letters when you approached the counter.

“I’ve got a parcel,” you said, your voice calm and steady.

The post clerk barely looked up. “Name?” he asked, his fingers still rifling through the letters.

“Deliah Hill,” you replied. Your fake alias coming out of your lips like second nature. The man shuffled to the shelf behind him, after a few seconds he turned back.

“Nope, no letters or parcels under that name.”

You shifted on your feet. Biting the inside of your cheeks you pondered on your options. Could she have used your real name to send you your parcel?

You looked around, the post office was deserted enough. With a sigh, you asked the man to search under your real name. Years passed from the last time you used that name. The moment your name left your mouth, you felt a shift in the room. A chill ran down your spine despite the heat. The clerk’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he looked at you before going to retrieve your parcel. For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of your heart in your ears.

The post office clerk handed you the parcel. “Thank you,” you said, your voice steady despite the panic rising inside you.

You turned to exit the building and behind you, someone shifted—a man, leaning against the wall by the door. You could feel his eyes on you now, sharp and calculating. Recognition flickered across his expression, and a slow, dangerous smile curled at the corner of his lips.

Bounty hunter.

You kept your face neutral, your fingers twitching closer toward the dagger on your belt. Your steps were slow as you walked out of the post office, the weight of the man’s gaze heavy on your body. You could feel it, the way his eyes followed your every movement, like a predator stalking its prey. The moment the sun kissed your skin you wasted no time. You stalked down the street towards your horse when a man bumped into you making you almost lose balance.

“I’m so sorry, Sir” you quickly apologized. He stared down at you from under his tall hat with pensive eyes and a stretched smile under his thick mustache. He was dressed in a two piece black suit, definitely too warm for the weather. “Where wolves prowl, ravens follow.” he said and gave you a last glance before continuing his path. What a strange man.

You shook your head and mounted your horse, hands steady despite the adrenaline flooding your veins.

Don’t run. Act normal. Keep calm.

As you rode down the street, the hot air seemed to thicken with tension. Your heart raced in your chest as you prayed he wouldn’t follow you. Willow’s hooves kicked up dust as she made her way toward the edge of town, your mind racing with possibilities trying to form an escape plan and get back safely to camp. If you could make it to the woods, you’d have a chance to disappear and take a shortcut to camp. He wouldn’t follow you there. Not without backup.

But as the last building passed you by on the outskirts of Blackwater, all your hopes vanished. A shout boomed in the air.

“Hey you! Stop right there!”

Your pulse spiked, and you kicked your horse into a gallop, dirt flying up behind you as the sound of hoofbeats thundered from behind. You didn’t need to look back to know what was happening. The hunter had been waiting for you.

Judging by the sounds of hooves on the dirt there were three, maybe four of them. Their shouts grew louder as they gave chase. You risked a glance over your shoulder, your heart pounding harder as your eyes spotted them—three middle aged men with rifles strapped across their backs and pistols in their hands, their eyes hungry with the promise of a reward.

One of them fired a shot, the crack of the gun slicing through the air. The bullet whizzed so close you could feel the heat of it landed on your side. You cursed under your breath and leaned low over your horse, urging it to go faster.

The woods weren’t far now, but the hunters were closing in, their shouts carrying over the wind like hyenas laughing at their prey.

They weren’t going to stop. Not until they had what they wanted, and that unfortunately was you.

The air seemed to shimmer with heat, dust kicking up in a haze covering the surrounding area as your horse rode across the dry, cracked earth. The world around you blurred, but your mind was sharp, every instinct screaming at you to ride faster, to outrun them. Your heart hammered in your chest, its pulse loud in your ears.

“Come on, lady,” you whispered to your horse, digging your heels into her sides as you urged the animal to go faster, gaining back a strained neigh from Willow. The woods were close now, the trees loomed ahead like a dark sanctuary, the thick branches of the trees casting long shadows over the dusty trail. If you could make it there, you could lose them. You could be free.

But the bounty hunters were relentless.

You looked back at them once more. A man with a scar running down his cheek, leveled his rifle and aimed. The sharp crack of his gunshot echoed in the air. You turned to look ahead of you, squeezing the reigns in your hand in anticipation, and then you felt it—a jolt beneath you as your horse staggered.

“No!” you screamed, your heart plummeting.

Willow let out a terrible, guttural cry, her body lurching forward as her legs buckled for a moment. Blood spurted from her side where the bullet had hit, staining her coat. But she regained control and kept running, her strong legs carrying forward, even as the wound drained the life from her with every step she took. You felt tears sting your eyes as you urged your horse onward, knowing the animal was running on sheer survival instinct alone.

“Ardennes are war horses, they might not run like Arabians but they’re strong,” Mister Anderson, your riding instructor once told you.

“Can you teach me how to ride one?” You were met with a bitter laugh, one you were far too accustomed to. He wasn’t laughing with you, but at you. You knew that it was near impossible for a thirteen years old girl to control such an animal but there was no harm in trying. You felt anger bubbling up in your body as you eyed your father’s Ardennes.

“Just a little more,” You whispered, your voice strained with desperation. “Just a little more then we’re safe.”

The woods closed in around you, the thick trees swallowing you whole as you crossed into the shade. The bounty hunters' shouts grew more distant, their voices muffled by the forest, but you knew they wouldn’t stop. Not yet. You could still hear them faintly, calling out your name, their taunts carrying through the trees like a ghostly echo.

“Come on out, girl! We’ll make it quick if you give up now!”

“You can’t run forever!” another voice shouted.

But you weren’t listening anymore. Your mind was solely focused on your horse, your only friend, who had carried you through so much, and who had never once let you down. The mare’s breathing was ragged now, each step slower, more labored than the last. Blood dripped hot from her side, staining the dry grass beneath you, second after second you could feel the horse’s strength fading.

The horse collapsed to her knees, unable to carry on. She let out a weak, broken cry as her legs gave out beneath her, sending you tumbling from your saddle into the dirt. You quickly scrambled to your feet, your breath catching in your throat as you rushed to her side.

“Willow! No, no!” you shouted, kneeling beside the mare, your hands trembling as you reached for the horse’s injury. Your hands stained with blood in mere seconds. The animal was breathing heavily, her eyes wide with pain and fear, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Blood pooled around you both, thick and dark covering the woods’ floor.

You ran a hand over the horse’s coat, your fingers brushing through the mane as tears blurred your vision. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

Willow let out a soft, almost pitiful sound, her head resting heavily in the grass. The horse’s body shuddered, life slowly draining from her eyes, but even now, she was trying to stay strong. It was like she didn’t want to leave you. Like she didn’t want to fail you.

Everything stilled, it was as if you were trapped in a bubble. You didn’t know, or care, where the bounty hunters were, but they were still out there, combing the woods for you. You could hear their voices, faint and taunting, calling your name but none of that mattered in that moment. All you could see was your horse, your loyal friend, dying in your arms. Another life lost because of you.

You pressed your forehead against Willow’s, your tears falling onto her soft, velvety nose. The pain in your chest was overwhelming, a grief so deep it felt like it might burn you from the inside. This horse had been with you through everything—through your escape from the hell that was your home, through lonely nights when you had no one else. And now you were losing her. You were losing the one good thing you had left.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered again, your voice shaking. It was the only thing you could think of. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

You pressed a trembling kiss to the mare’s forehead. A last goodbye. “You were brave, girl. You can rest now.”

The horse’s breathing slowed, and as if following your command her body shuddered one last time before she went still. You could feel the life leave her body.

For a long moment, you stayed there, your hands resting on the horse’s neck, caressing her, as if your actions would ease her soul. You wanted to scream, to rage against the world, but there was no time. You snapped back to reality as the voices of the bounty hunters were getting closer now.

You forced yourself to stand, wiping your tear-streaked face with the back of your hand. Your heart ached, but you couldn’t stay. Not if you wanted to survive. The bounty hunters would be here soon, and they’d show no mercy. You had to run.

With one last, heartbroken glance at your horse, you turned and sprinted deeper into the woods, your legs carrying as fast as they could. Your boots thudded against the soft earth, your breathing ragged and uneven as you darted between the trees, your mind racing.

The forest was dense. Branches whipped at your face as you ran, one in particular caught on your skirt, tearing the fabric to your knees. You fell, knees burning from the scratch. Your lungs burned with each breath, but you couldn’t stop. You had to keep going.

Then, through the trees, almost as an apparition you saw it—an old, crumbled wooden cabin, barely visible through the thick underbrush. The wood was weathered and covered in vines, the roof sagging in places, and one of the walls had partially collapsed, leaving a hole covered by some planks big enough to enter in the side of the building. It looked abandoned, forgotten by time. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A place to hide. A place to catch your breath.

Without hesitation, you sprinted toward the cabin, using all the energy left in your body. You could still hear the bounty hunters behind you.

The planks on the side creaked loudly as you pushed them to open the hole, the wood groaning under your weight. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the smell of mold, the floorboards creaking beneath your boots. Cobwebs covered almost every corner of the room, and broken furniture was scattered across the room, but it didn’t matter. You weren't looking for comfort—you were looking for survival.

You put the planks in place and crouched low behind an overturned table near the back of the cabin, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you tried to quiet your racing heart. Your hand rested on the grip of your dagger, your knuckles white. You knew it was nothing against their rifles but at least if they found you, you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

For now, all you could do was wait with your heart heavy with the loss of your horse and your mind focused on staying alive.

The footsteps of the hunters grew louder outside, their voices drawing nearer. You held your breath, your body tense as you listened, praying they wouldn’t find you here.

This cabin was your last chance.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, louder than the whispers of the men searching for you. Then, beneath the irregular sound of your own heartbeat, you felt something else—something sharp and burning.

Your hand drifted to your side, fingers pressing under your ribs. Warm, sticky blood coated your palm. Panic flared in your chest as you realized—one of those bullets they fired didn’t scrape you but had actually hit you. You hadn’t felt it before, the adrenaline masking the pain and pushing you forward. But now as the effect started to die down, pain took its place. A shot, not deep, but dangerous enough. You gritted your teeth, wiping the blood on your torn gown, willing yourself to stay conscious, to stay alert.

You needed to figure out what to do next—escape, hide, something. But then, the cold sensation of the barrel of a gun made contact with the back of your head. You closed your eyes for a second before turning to face your fate.

Fate took the form of a man, no older than twenty-six, lean but muscular, his long dark brown hair falling messily over his sharp features covered by a faint beard. His piercing gaze was cold, focused. You could sense he carried himself with the confidence of someone used to the dangerous weight of a gun in his hand. And there it was—pointed right at you. You looked up at him from your kneeled position, completely at his mercy.

From the shadows, next to the man, another figure stepped forward. The second man was much older, his weathered face marked by lines of age and experience. His silver hair combed back. His eyes, though, were sharp with curiosity as he took in your state. His eyes seemed to look into your soul and that terrified you more than the gun pointed at your head.

You could feel both their eyes on you—taking in the tear-streaked dirt on your cheeks, your disheveled hair, the blood staining your skirt tored from the knees down. But more than anything, their gazes linger on the dagger clenched tightly in your hand, its intricate hilt glinting in the dim light filtering from the cracks of the cabin. Your brother’s dagger.

“Don’t move,” the younger man said, his voice cold and steady, the barrel of his gun unwavering as he clicked its safety off.

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, you raised the dagger in your hand, pointing it toward him in a futile attempt at defense. Not really a wise choice since he had a gun pointed directly at your head, but you were cornered, wounded, and outnumbered. Most of all you were tired.

The older man—his voice smoother, almost soothing—spoke next. “Easy now, no need for more bloodshed.” He stepped closer to the younger man, placing a hand on his arm. “John, calm down.”

John. The name floated in the air as your grip tightened on the dagger, your eyes flicking between the two men. The tension was thick, your body tense, ready to lash out or flee, but the older man kept his gaze on you, caging any movement. His eyes calculating but not unkind.

Outside, you could hear the voice of the bounty hunters calling for you.

“Come on out now! It’ll be easier if you don’t make us drag you out!”

“Miss,” he says softly, eyeing your trembling hand, gripping the dagger like a lifeline. “You're hurt. And from the sound of it, those fellas outside ain't exactly your friends.”

John’s grip on his gun tightened, his eyes flicking toward the door before settling back on you looking you up and down. His gaze piercing. “We can’t trust her, Hosea,” he mutters under his breath. “She could be one of them.”

Hosea didn’t look away from you, though he rolled his eyes at the younger man's sentence. “Does she look like one of them to you?” he asks, his tone calm but with an edge of irritation. His eyes swept over you again, the blood, the tear-streaked face, the bleeding wound on your side. “She’s in no shape to be hunting anyone.”

You have no idea who these men were, but something about the older one’s voice was reassuring, like hot milk and honey on a cold night. But the younger one—John—you couldn’t say the same, his distrust was palpable. Your instinct told you to run, to hide, but the growing footsteps outside told you otherwise. You were trapped.

“You gonna fight off all those men out there with a knife?” Hosea asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or would you rather come with us?” At his proposition the younger man lowered his gun in disbelief, eyeing the older man with fury.

You swallowed hard, feeling the blood drip from your side, the sharp sting of your wound biting deeper making your thoughts hazy. You’ve always been alone, fending for yourself, trusting no one. But here, now it wasn’t a choice between trust or caution. It was life or death.

“I—” you started, but the sound of boots crunching outside the cabin silenced you.

You felt your heart almost beating out your chest. Run or fight? Die here cornered like an animal or continue to fight. Who were these two strangers, could you even trust these men? Why were they willing to help a wanted woman? Your mind struggled to come up with an explanation and under the exhaustion you gave in.

“I’ll come with you,” you muttered, lowering the dagger, your fingers numb from the tight grip you’d held onto it with.

John scoffed. “You sure about this, Hosea?”

Hosea nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I think she’ll be more use to us alive than dead.” He outstretched a hand towards you, helping you up on your feet. “Let’s go, before those boys outside kick the door down.”

Without another word, Hosea moved toward the side of the cabin, looking outside before gesturing for you to follow. John, still glaring at you, holstered his gun but kept one hand hovering near his hip, ready to draw at any sign of trouble from you.

You slipped out, moving quickly and quietly through the dense underbrush. Your side burning with every step, and the world seems to tilt dangerously, your vision blurring as you stumbled after them. The sounds of the bounty hunters behind you fade as you made your way deeper into the forest, but your legs started to grow weaker, your strength fading with every drop of blood you lost.

Hosea led the way, his steps sure and practiced, while John brought up the rear, gun ready in his hand and eyes darting around as if he expected an ambush at any moment. They moved fast, and you could barely keep up. Your head spun, your breathing labored as the last remains of adrenaline slowly ebbed away, leaving only the raw, gnawing pain storming in your body.

“I’m not your enemy,” you hissed through gritted teeth, as you felt John’s eyes studying you. The effort of speaking sent a sharp, stabbing pain through your side.

“But you sure as hell ain’t acting like a friend either.” He replied, his tone harsh. He took a step closer, his gun never leaving his hand. “And from where I’m standing, you’re more trouble to us than you’re worth.”

Your blood boiled at his words, and despite the dizziness creeping in around the edges of your vision, you lifted your chin, his height making you glare up at him “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you spat, your voice shaking with the weight of your fury and exhaustion. “If I was trouble, you’d already be dead.”

John’s lips curl into a smirk, but there’s no warmth in it. “Is that so? You’re half-dead on your feet, bleeding all over the place, and you think you’re in any shape to make threats?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t look like it.”

The sound of Hosea’s voice urging you two to move along snapped you out of your staring contest with the man.

After some more walking you reached a small clearing, in the distance you could see two horses tethered to a tree, a large black morgan snorting impatiently and a silver turkoman with various pelts on his back. You stopped in front of the horses, the memory of Willow’s death fresh and painful making you still. John stopped at your side, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

“You’ll have to ride with me.” He urged, the words clipped. Your eyes locked with his gray ones briefly before looking back at his horse. Though for a moment you hesitated, you clumsily climbed on the saddle, the sharp pain in your side restricting your movements. He climbed behind you, his arms circling your waist to keep you from falling off. You heard a clicking noise behind your ear and the horse started to move. The world blurred as your vision wavered, your fingers gripping tightly on John’s forearm muscles as exhaustion threatened to consume you. You could hear Hosea saying something, his voice distant and far away.

“Hold on tight, or you’ll fall off.” John’s gruff voice cut through the haze.

You wanted to snap back at him, but you couldn’t respond. Your strength long gone. You pressed your back against John’s chest. The pain in your side too intense, the blood loss catching up to you. Your grip slackens on his arms making him let out a curse.

And then, darkness took over you.

───── •✧✧• ─────

Consciousness returned slowly, like the gentle light of the sun after the rain. You blinked against the light coming mostly likely from an oil lantern, your vision a hazy blur of shapes and colors. As you tried to focus, you became aware of three figures looming over you, their faces shifting in and out of clarity. Panic fluttered in your chest for a moment as you struggled to push yourself up, your body heavy, the pain in your side reminding you of what happened previously. The last thing you remembered was John’s arms tightening around you and his low voice saying something in your ear.

One of the figures stepped closer, the soft glow of the lamp in the other man’s hand illuminating his features. It was an older man with a ginger mustache and hollow eyes, a look of concern etched deep into the lines of his face. There’s something kind about the way he looked at you.

“Easy there, Miss,” he murmured. “You’re safe now. Just relax.”

The other two figures remained just beyond your sight, their silhouettes casting long shadows across the room. One came beside the ginger man, a tall woman with a stern face, her arched brow furrowed in concentration as she spoke to the man. “—got to make sure it doesn’t get infected,” the woman said, her voice crisp and commanding. “If we don’t stitch her upright, we could lose her.”

As you laid there, struggling to grasp the situation, a wave of warmth washed over you, followed by a sharp sting in your side. You flinched involuntarily, the sensation jolting through you like lightning. That’s when the man with the mustache spoke to the woman beside him “Give something to this poor soul!” he exclaimed, and the other two turned their attention toward you, eyes widening as they saw your pained expression

“Stay still,” the woman commanded, her hands deftly working as she threaded the needle through your skin. “You need to let us do our job, Miss.”

The sharpness of the needle pierced you again, and a low groan escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, fighting against the pain. “W-what are you doing?” you gasped, panic rising again as the burning sensation spread across your side. Who were these people?

“Just sewing you up,” the man replied, trying to sound comforting, but his eyes held a glint of urgency. “It’s going to hurt a bit. Just keep breathing.”

The third figure, the man with the lamp in hand, stepped back, circling around the woman to give her more light, allowing you a clearer view. His face was familiar—Hosea. You remembered him from the cabin, the kindness in his eyes when he had convinced you to trust him and follow him and John. He watched you intently, a mixture of worry and sympathy written on his face.

“Hang in there,” Hosea said softly, his voice grounding you as the woman continued her work. “You’re going to be alright.”

You felt a rush of warmth and comfort at the sound of his voice, the sensation short lived and quickly replaced by the sharp stab of the needle as it pierced your skin once more. You winced, tears springing to your eyes, and the woman frowned.

With each stitch, the burning intensified, the pain nearly overwhelming. Your screams were agonizing and you tried to thrash against the cot beneath you, but a strange sense of exhaustion settled over you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized you needed to focus on something, anything else. You thought of your brother—his laughter, the way he always made you feel safe, the last memory you had of him giving you that dagger, his last gift of love and protection.

“Don’t close your eyes, stay with us,” Hosea urged, as if sensing your thoughts drifting. The woman pressed a bottle into your hand. “Here, drink this. It’ll help with the pain,” she instructed. You blindly gulped down the liquid realizing after a few seconds that it was whiskey. The liquid sharp and burning as it travelled down your throat, making you cough slightly. Soon you felt its effects dulling your senses, a warm haze began to envelop you. “I can’t—” you started, but another wave of pain crashed over you, and you could feel your eyes fluttering, the world around you dimming again.

“Stay awake,” Hosea said, his voice soothing and steady. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”

You tried to focus on his words, tried to keep your eyes open, but sleep spread through you. The voices around you faded, the edges of your vision darkened, but not before you caught a glimpse of one last figure—the younger man, John—stood in the corner of the room, his expression unreadable.

He looked different now, less like a threat and more like someone who understood your pain. But as you slipped back into the void, your last thoughts were of your brother, his smile and the warmth of his embrace.

And then, with a final flicker of awareness, you drowned into the darkness, your mind drifting away on a sea of memories.

———————————————

taglist: @laylasredemption @starlightt180 @photo1030 @oceanwaves1998

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 33

Part 32

A kiss had never driven Steve so crazy. Never in his life had he ever spent so long thinking about something as simply as a kiss. But it wasn’t just one kiss, was it? For one thing, there had been several until they’d been interrupted by the children. And for another, each one had felt more meaningful than the last. More heated too. Eddie had rushed them back to the castle like he couldn’t wait to get Steve in bed.

They never did find out what the boys had been doing out so late, but maybe that was for the better. The heat of summer was getting to them all and so it was planned to have an outing at Lover’s Lake. Typically a royal going onto an outing like this meant the entire court coming along. It meant several carriages and even more servants to wait on them hand and foot.

But Steve should have known that Eddie wouldn’t put on any airs like that; that he was the type to choose only the bare essentials. So the lot of them piled up into a wagon, a couple of baskets of food, snacks, and refreshments to tithe them over until they returned to the castle.

“Why is it called Lover’s Lake anyway?”, Steve asked.

“Because legend tells of two loves who couldn’t be together, so they drowned themselves to be with each other”, Dustin said with a ghastly smile.

“That’s not the story”, Lucas argued. “Two lovers came from the lake. One made of moss, the other of water.”

“I heard two people were so in love, their passion created the lake”, Robin said.

“I was always told it was a bunch of people”, Will said. “Not just two.”

“Stories can change over time”, Eddie said from the front where he drove the horses. They got to the lake shortly after that. The surface glittered in the sunshine. And they weren’t the only ones enjoying the cool water. There were a couple of boats down the way, fishermen. Although it was clear even from a distance that they were doing so for leisure. The boys wasted no time tearing their shirts off and stripping down to their swimming shorts.

El and Max took their time, choosing instead to head off for a shady area under a tree. Steve couldn’t tell what they were doing, but it looked like serious business. Robin was already lounging with a nice, cool drink and Steve was about to join her when he saw Eddie heading for the water. He too had stripped down and Steve was struck by the fact that this was the first time he’d ever seen Eddie in a real state of undress. His chest, arms, and back were visible and they were covered in tattoos.

Most of his body seemed to be covered in black vines. They branched this way and that and at the end of each branch was something new and different. Steve was mesmerized. He didn’t realize that he was until Robin reached over with a stick and poked at his cheek.

“Sorry, I was trying to close that gaping hole in your face.”

Steve glared at her but he didn’t know what he was more perturbed by - her making fun of him or her interrupting his staring.

“I was also trying to wipe the drool off.”

“With a stick?”, Steve asked, trying to wipe his face without being obvious.

“I’m not touching your drool with my bare hands.”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to watching Eddie as he went into the water. His skin was pale under the sunlight and Steve worried he might burn if he was out for too long. Was he like the demobeasts in that regard? He must have better tolerance, able to even be in the light at the height of summer at all while the others hibernated in dark caves.

He watched as Eddie dipped below the surface and then came back up, his hair draped over his face. He used his hands to brush it back and damn, Steve might actually be drooling now. 

“He’s…”, Steve trailed off, not having the words.

“I can’t believe our king has reduced you to speechlessness. In a good way”, Robin said. She looked up to view Eddie and only saw a wet dog where Steve saw beauty and power.

Finally, Steve couldn’t take it anymore and he prepared to take to the water. Will was distracting Mike when Lucas dunked him in the lake. Immediately after, Dustin breached to knock Lucas off balance. Eddie was wading at a distance, making sure they didn’t get too wild, when he noticed Steve stepping in from the shore.

Immediately, Eddie’s mouth got dry, watching Steve enter like something from his dreams. He didn’t wade through the water so much as the lake caressed his body. Before he knew it, he was moving towards the prince.

“Hey there”, Steve smiled.

“Hello, little prince”, Eddie smiled right back as they got nearly chest to chest. 

Steve’s hands found his under the water and Eddie brought them up out of it to kiss both sets of knuckles. For a moment, the screeching of children at play were distant. They didn’t even notice El and Max diving in with a splash. All they could see were each other’s eyes and the droplets of water shining on them both. 

“Can I tell you something?”, Steve whispered in the small space between them.

“Anything, always”, Eddie’s voice was soft, not wanting to break the moment.

“I’m still thinking about our kiss, from that night.”

“As if I could ever forget. My dreams are sewn with the sweetness of you. It permeates my every thought. If I could go without breathing, I would, just to keep your lips on mine.”

“You don’t know what your words do to me”, Steve ducked his head. “When you talk it’s like…it’s as if you take my words away from me just to return them.”

Eddie’s hand came up to grip the back of his neck, “If that is the truth, then I should give them all back. For I am no thief.”

Their foreheads came together and Steve blinked, taking just a second to savor him. And also to glance around and remind himself of their surroundings.

“What are you thinking about, my joy?”

“I am thinking of the fact that we must have eyes on us.”

“Then let them bear witness to our affections.”

“Hey! We can and will douse you with water!”, Mike reminded from afar.

Eddie snickered, letting his hands move up from Steve’s neck to further up into his scalp. “Sounds like they’re warning us off.”

“It sounds to me like they’re itching to splash us anyway. So it wouldn’t make a different whether you kissed me or not.”

Eddie’s eyes got bright. “Oh it makes a difference to me.”

When they kissed this time, they knew it would only be a second before they were interrupted and sure enough, water hit the side of Eddie’s face, getting Steve in the crossfire. It was still one of the sweetest kisses Steve had ever received. He and Eddie retreated to the shore, where those tattoos were brought to his attention again.

“That’s quite the mural”, Steve said, looking them over again. He could see a paintbrush, a sword, a book, and several other things that almost seemed like charms on his body. 

“Each one is for someone in my life”, Eddie admitted. 

Steve looked over all that he could see, wondering who was who. And also wondering how long until he found a space on Eddie’s skin and what he would be illustrated as. They returned to the castle hours later, children hanging on by a thread and ready to collapse from swimming all day. Steve was right alongside them, eyelids getting heavy. Eddie took it upon himself to carry Steve up to his room, even laying him in his bed.

He left the prince with just a kiss on the forehead and then the door separated them as he stood in the hall. He gave a heavy sigh and leaned heavily against the door, which was how Jeff found him.

“How goes the courtship?”, his friend asked.

Eddie gave him a long look. “I have to marry him before the year’s end.”

Part 34 coming soon

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[reverieblondie]

The Dark Prince: Chapter 2, First Night in Waldemar

Paring- Dark Prince Rolan x Blessed Princess F!Tav

Warnings- 18+ MDNI, will include violence and smut, and two pinning idiots. (In this chapter... we get steamy...) Fingering, clothes ripping, Scent kink, Unprotected sex. Its the first night in Waldemar

Summary: Two carriages arrive to Waldemar... and the couples first night as husband and wife begins.

A/N: I want to give a huuuggggeeeee thank you to @sav-not-tav and @vera-king-hrfl for sending me some Rolan gifs and Screenshots for me to use for this series! I will be giving them a shotout every chapter, this one is from Sav! Thank you my lovely! Another huge thank you to my Sweet Anon for helping me with writing and editing this story! If you love anything Astarion says its because of them! they have nailed his characterization and have helped me soo much with this story!

<- Chapter 1 The Union

Though this is the night that many young lovers dream of after they have spoken their sweet promises to one another… when your wedding, your union is a tactical arrangement. One of political gain, it can turn a night meant for romance into a night of lines drawn in the sand as two people get to know each other for the first time.

The two newlyweds were not in particularly chatty moods. After all, what was there for them say—what was there for /any/ of them to say? Congratulations or condolences?

Before being able to resume reading, Tav had spent the first little while of the trip trying to convince Shadowheart and Lae'zel that she wasn't insulted by the actions of her now-husband. The newly made Queen was only met with a suspicious stare from her lady-in-waiting and a scoff from her knight that such a weak lie was beneath her. Eventually, Tav conceded in a hushed voice that yes, fine, perhaps she was a tad insulted; this was quickly followed by slightly more insistent whispers that the githyanki could put her sword down as it was still unnecessary.

All the while, Tav could hear her other knight and the older armored tiefling, General Zevlor, talking amongst themselves from where the two men sat outside, taking turns steering the horses that pulled them along. Tav couldn’t help but smile as Wyll went from merely swapping polite small talk with the general to hearing them exchanging hearty laughs and pleasant words. Wyll always makes getting to know people look so easy and effortless… maybe she could learn to be as charismatic, might make getting to know the King easier. 

In Rolan’s carriage, the new King largely kept his gaze turned towards the outside, his eyes skimming whatever part of the landscape he could see for the lights of Waldemar’s capital. Sitting across from him, the two vampiric elves chortled between each other, showing off the silver, pearls, and ornate rings they each had swiped from the various wedding attendees. The newly made King knew he probably should have frowned at those associated with him acting in such a matter, but he found it hard to bring himself to care about such things, so he simply didn’t bother. Rolan barely paid it any mind as the two vampire spawn continued trying to one-up each other, only briefly interjecting if their banter began to tip into bickering or if they snapped at Aurelia when she tried to do the same as she steered the carriage, as his mind was preoccupied with more important matters. More than once, he caught himself drumming his fingers or tapping the end of his tail against the padded seats as he impatiently waited to return.

The two well-made carriages made good time; the no-man’s-land between Sivailon and Waldemar rarely suffered from bandits thanks to Halsin and the other druids who lived there. While the travelers and the smaller settlements of Waldemar would still have to deal with the occasional raids from wandering marauders, there was nobody foolish enough to try waylaying the Dark Prince—the Dark King. Not anymore.

Tav eventually finished her pre-wedding reading, leaving the new Queen with little to do but wait. She had known that things would not completely change in a handful of hours, but she had hoped to have gotten the chance to establish even the smallest amount of rapport with her new husband and co-ruler; there was only so much one could learn from reading, especially when most material she could find on Waldemar was about the... previous rulers... and thus was potentially out of date.

She supposes she could ask General Zevlor her questions, but as she listened to Wyll and the older tiefling continuing to converse amicably and even levity...

No, Tav decided, I can’t do that to him.

She knew Wyll would have removed himself from the conversation in a heartbeat to make way for her, but she also knew more than just her own life was changing this night; Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel’s daily lives were all changing so that they might stay by her side in a new kingdom. No matter how willingly they came, the least she could do for her friends was to allow them the opportunity to forge connections of their own the way Wyll was doing now.

The way she wished she could be doing right now...

For now, Lae’zel seemed content to keep her piercing gaze trained outside, watching the landscape pass by. Shadowheart was quick to notice when Tav began to grow restless. It wasn’t long before the cleric started discussing what she knew regarding the caravans meant to transport their personal effects to Waldemar palace over the next several weeks. Lae’zel would occasionally chime in to point out a few naturally formed landmarks or potential hazards once they were well beyond the ill-defined boundaries of the no-man’s-land of the druids and the kingdom of Waldemar. Tav gratefully accepted the distraction her friends offered.

Eventually, in what felt like no time, Lae’zel alerted the two Selûnites of the lights from Waldemar’s capital city, which were now barely visible in the distance.

Both carriages slowed to a stop, and Tav heard the sound of moving armor as General Zelvor once again relinquished the reins to Wyll. The older Tiefling made his way to the carriage door.

Gathering the skirts of her dress in one hand, Tav gratefully accepted the general’s offer of a gauntleted hand to help her down. When she looked towards her husband’s carriage, she was nearly startled upon seeing how close the three vampire spawn had gotten; the pale, elfin man was already leaning against the carriage wheel she had just exited, and the other two were not far behind.

How had they moved so quickly without making a sound?!

The vampire leaning against the carriage raised a hand as if to shoo aside a squire, “If the moon princess would be so kind as to make way...”

A flash of embarrassment shook Tav out of her brief stupor—at least, she hoped it had been brief—and she swiftly stepped away from the carriage door. Her nerve-weary mind didn’t even register what the vampire had said until she saw the angry expressions of Lae’zel and Shadowheart looking out of the carriage to glare at the elf as he sauntered over to the threshold.

“So which of you lucky ladies gets to aid me into the carriage?” the pale elf crooned as if speaking to a pair of swooning maidens.

Shadowheart schooled her expression into one cold scorn, “Keep talking like that, and perhaps we will leave you to walk the rest of the way.”

 "Touchy, touchy, darling." the vampire tsked, "Didn't you see the wedding? We're all supposed to be friends now."

Tav could still hear the verbal barbs the two groups exchanged, even though she couldn’t make out the words by the time General Zevlor was helping the new Queen into her husband’s carriage. As she settles beside her co-ruler, she thinks she hears a blitter scoff from the Dark King. When she looks towards him, she only glimpses the glow of his eyes for a moment before he’s looking out the window again towards the lights of Waldemar’s capital. She doesn’t have long to dwell on it, for soon the general has taken up the reins of their royal carriage, and they are once again moving towards the city; a quick glance out the window confirms that Wyll is steering the other carriage to follow them—even as it seems he has to call over his shoulder at its passengers. 

It was only a handful of seconds before Tav began to mindlessly fidget as the silence sat between them like an unwanted passenger. There were countless possible conversation starters, questions she wanted to ask him, but all either fled from her mind or the words died in her throat whenever she opened her mouth; her husband still hadn’t looked at her since she entered the carriage, instead keeping his glowing eyes trained out the window towards the lights of Waldemar’s capital.

With how close the two sat, Rolan was consistently aware of his new wife’s shifting and fidgeting, even as he kept his gaze focused on the horizon, and his mind focused on more important matters. The newly made Queen had shifted again, causing his eyes to roll. He wondered if perhaps she was trying to put distance between them, possibly trying to escape his infernal heat that was undoubtedly prickling at her skin with how close they sat to each other, or perhaps she was uneasy now that she was once again forced to be beside a hellspawn—beside the fiendish usurper. His Queen adjusted again, and he found himself wishing she would have just sat across from him rather than try to suffer through his proximity in silence like some sort of martyr.

A thought occurred to him about the people who would be waiting to see the new royal couple—to see her. He had given them a proper Queen to fawn over. Unlike himself, she is innately touched by the divine and from proper nobility... but if she is visibly frightened of him…

Rolan contemplates if he should say something, remind her they both needed to look presentable or try to comfort her.

Comfort her?

Rolan wants to scoff at the idea.

I don’t even know how to comfort Lia and Cal.

Before he could stop himself, his eyes briefly flick over to the stranger sitting beside him; luckily, she didn’t appear to have been staring as he’d been expecting her to, so she probably—hopefully—hadn’t noticed his glance. He wasn’t eager to get dragged into a conversation with her. He was even less interested in having to deal with his new wife sneering at his sharp teeth or recoiling from his clawed hands.

Rolan was only distantly aware of how the impatient flick of his tail lapsed into it lashing across the excessively padded seats. At least until it smacked against a gown-covered leg, eliciting a startled ‘Oh!’ from the woman beside him.

Growing frustration is quickly replaced by a flash of embarrassment as he whips his stupid, mindless tail away from her as if the contact has burnt him. Her eyes met his a moment later, and he realized too late that he had ended up staring.

Tav watched as her husband once again angled his face away from her. Clearly, he had been as surprised as she’d been, at least if his wide-eyed expression had been anything to go off of. She had met a few tieflings before and knew that, for many, their tails were part of body language.

Perhaps the Dark King is nervous, too? Or maybe he was irritated...

Once again, Tav keenly felt the absence of understanding. She knew there would be a great deal to learn. Still, she’d hardly anticipated how... daunting it would be to ask. Biting the inside of her lip, Tav debated whether she should say something or maybe take a shot to lighten the mood. Tav eventually shelfs the idea before returning to the uncomfortable silence between them.

So, she nearly jumps in her seat when the Dark King speaks up.

“Pardon me…” his eyes once again glancing at her, more specifically where his tail had thumped against her leg.

It was not exactly the conversation she envisioned, but she still found herself with a small, slightly relieved smile, “It’s alright.”

The long, low sound of a horn echoed out to herald the arrival of Waldemar’s new royal couple, causing the pair to look out the windows again as both carriages finally passed through the threshold of the city’s gate.

Up and down the city streets, hundreds upon hundreds of people hold up the warm lights of candles and lanterns, like a sea of flickering stars that had fallen from the night sky and parted to let the royal carriages through. They look on with eager eyes, ready to catch the sight of their Queen. 

They gaze up at her with awe, and some even begin to bow as the carriages, now moving at a slightly slower pace, pass by. It’s not until Tav’s eyes meet with a young child sitting perched upon the shoulders of another onlooker, both smiling up at their new Queen, that she snaps out of her daze. She waves and smiles at the people, though only a few of their expressions are fully illuminated until a sudden burst of light draws the crowd’s attention.

The people seem awed and intimidated in equal measures, though no alarm is raised. Tav glanced around in confusion before quickly noticing a soft glowing light between the Dark King’s palms while he recited something under his breath.

His clawed fingers curl and flex gracefully as what started off as a small mote of light steadily grew into a whorling orb of colors. Tav feels almost hypnotized by the beauty of his spellcasting, watching as the magic is pulled and shaped between his hands without slipping from his control.

Then, in one smooth motion, he stands and tilts his hands toward the carriage window. The whorling orb blooms into a dazzling spray of colors blazing overhead, which the crowd receives with quiet sounds of wonder.

They aren’t the only ones moved by the display, and Tav lightly brought a hand to politely cover her slack-jawed expression as she watched the spell’s aftereffects, still artfully coiling through the air even as it faded. She’d known Rolan was a wizard, tales of his terrifying power were still circulating throughout the Sivailon court, but she hadn’t been expecting the beauty she had just witnessed.

It’s as if the obvious hits her once again she looks out to the streets. This is Waldemar, the kingdom born anew through revolution. Glimpses of old bricks paired with new ones show the repair after the revolt three years ago. She is in Waldermar—the kingdom and the capital city—ruled over by the usurper and now, by marriage, her.

The Dark King continues to garner the crowd’s attention as he releases another spell to go twisting through the air, replacing the last one that has since dissipated. Tav’s fingers fidget once more as she hesitantly pulls on the innate magic in her veins. She feels it rise within her, like the ebb and flow of the tides pulled by the moon.

Should she join in? She knows her magic will be different from his, but... What if this was a new custom she wasn't privy to? If this is important to her new husband or the people he rules, she should try her best to participate before giving the wrong impression.

The new Queen abruptly stands, drawing Rolan’s attention. He maintains concentration on his last spell with little difficulty as he watches her softly mutter an incantation, stopping and repeating herself as if unsure of her recital. She moves her hands in a manner familiar to him, though her motions are more strained and tense. It is as if all her concentration is going to what he recognizes as a relatively simple spell. The magic of the spell waxes and wanes far more than it should. Her hands move more frequently than such a simple casting should require as she goes back and forth between needing to stop the spell from unraveling itself and needing to keep it from fizzling out.

It’s painfully clear to his learned eyes that she is untrained.

He wants to scoff but holds it in, Typical sorcerer.

They call her a ‘divine soul,’ but he supposes the princess has been too worried about her dresses and tea parties to focus on honing her innate magic.

At least she isn’t trying to cast with her pinky raised.

Once the spell was not immediately at risk of dissipating in her hands, she rushed to throw it up. Dancing lights, a mere cantrip, just as he had predicted... The silvery-blue motes drifted through the crowd, the light rippling instead of maintaining the soft, steady glow it was supposed to have, and every slight bump of the carriage seemed to strain his Queen’s ability to maintain concentration on the spell.

It’s unpolished and sloppy, but the people cheer in awe anyway; some even clap or weep as they praise their new Queen, blessed by the moon herself. Rolan bites back his frustration. Perhaps with proper guidance and a more practiced hand, she would have potential, but that was hardly his concern. All that mattered was that her magic came from the divine, and the people knew it. Let his detractors cry out against and cower before his infernal blood, but now they could placate themselves with her presence.

Eventually, they pass through the castle’s massive gates, and Rolan slowly releases the hold of his spell, allowing the display to fade away as he returns to his seat. His new Queen seems to follow his lead, rubbing her hands as if the dainty things had been strained from casting her little cantrips. This time, he is more mindful of his tail, making sure the appendage stays away from her as the tip of it sweeps against the floor in silent anticipation for this ride to be over.

Meanwhile, Tav takes in the large palace of towering cobblestone where she will be conducting her queenly business. It seems as if light is spilling from every window, like every candle within had been lit in preparation for their arrival. Idly, she wonders how the castle compares to the one in Sivailon. Both kingdoms were old, though neither was meaningfully more ancient than the other. Hopefully, Waldemar’s palace would not be dissimilar from her Sivailon home.

General Zevlor eased the carriage to a stop right at the front steps of the castle, where two rows of well-armored soldiers, many of whom seemed to have horns or wore helms styled to look as such, stood on either side of the path leading to the threshold. Three teiflings seemed to be waiting by the entrance; one was a tall, muscular woman with a broken horn and ruby red skin, the next was a shorter woman with periwinkle skin and was dressed in a colorful ensemble, and last was a young man wearing a wide smile while his tail swayed back-and-forth as he watched the carriage with clear giddy anticipation.

The Dark King was the first to step down from the carriage, and it seemed his boot had hardly touched the ground before the three tieflings came forward.

“Rolan!” The young man of the group rushed forward with his arms out.

Tav was practically in shock as her husband rolled his eyes but didn’t hesitate to meet the young man’s embrace with one of his own. This was the friendliest he’d been all evening, and if the new Queen hadn’t frozen mid-exit, she is certain she would have slipped out of the carriage from sheer surprise.

“Welcome to Waldemar, Queenie!” a sudden boisterous voice called out, making Tav jump as she looked to see the woman with the broken horn swiftly approaching. “Here, let me help you down.”

Where Zevlor had cautiously offered his hand to help, this woman firmly scooped Tav up with both arms before setting her back down with ease. Tav had to admit being hoisted and carried, even if only for a moment, had her cheeks warming—though a distant part of her mind recalled how the stories typically had one of the newlyweds carrying the other rather than it being done by a beautiful stranger with a smile that seemed bright enough to be its own source of illumination.

“Karlach, weren’t you advised not to help people down like that anymore?” The other tiefling woman—who on closer inspection seemed to be dressed in a set of performance attire that complimented her physique beautifully—said while approaching with a polite smile of her own that didn’t hide the concern in her eyes, “Besides, that’s not how we should approach… nobility…”

Beyond those words, an otherwise unspoken exchange seems to pass between the two tiefling women, though it is over so fast that the true contents are known only to them.

“Right.” The bright smile on the muscular tiefling—Karlach—dims a bit, becoming slightly embarrassed as she stepped back from the Queen, “Sorry, didn’t mean to… scare you...”

“Oh!” Tav quickly scrambled to find her voice again, “No! You were fine! I wasn’t frightened! I found your warm welcome was quiet- Well- Welcoming.”

Karlach beamed in response before happily turning to the other tiefling woman, “You see, Alfira! No feathers ruffled. Plus, I think Rolan didn’t want me to ‘surprise lift’ him again.”

Tav pressed her lips together, attempting to hide her amusement as she pictured the dreaded Dark Prince being unexpectedly hoisted into the air so casually. She’s almost tempted to ask for a demonstration.

“Please forgive our Royal Enforcer.” Alfira said, her smile slightly more relaxed, “Karlach tends to be quite casual—even with royalty.”

Karlach shrugged, “I’ve known Rolan since before people began calling him ‘Prince,’ and we’ve gotten this far. Don’t really see the point in changing it up just because folks are calling him ‘King’ now.”

“I can hardly see any issues with that.” the new Queen agreed, “One should be able to trust their friends and their court; it’s only natural the two would overlap at times.”

The expression on Karlach’s face somehow brightened even further, and a soft chuckle escaped Alfira before she cleared her throat and attempted to resume propriety.

Tav turned back towards the carriages, intending to locate her own small court of friends and wave them over so they could be introduced. She then froze as she spotted the vampiric elven man glaring at her. His mouth twisted further into an unapologetic sneer as their eyes met.

The sounds of bickering help Tav tear her gaze away to land on her friends. Wyll had paused from regularly chiding the others to behave themselves while he was handing off his reins to a handful of tieflings who had since emerged to take care of the horses and the two carriages. It appeared he was taking the opportunity to introduce himself to the servants as he helped them unload what belongings her court had been able to pack, though they seemed surprised he was even talking to them. Lae’zel is already sizing up the new environment, scrutinizing everything and everyone in sight as she has all evening. Tav knew that her knight would make it her duty to personally map out the palace within the week and that her friend was waiting to assess if her presence wasn’t otherwise needed before doing so. Lastly, Tav’s gaze falls to Shadowheart, who was showing remarkable restraint considering the vampiric elven woman who was currently trying to drape herself against the Queen’s lady-in-waiting—much to the tiefling vampire’s apparent dismay. The half-elf’s expression was stoic, even as she traded verbal jabs with the other woman, but Tav could see how her friend was internally debating whether or not to borrow Lae’zel’s mace and remind the undead that she was also an active cleric of Selûne.

“Come now, just a bit more of your time.” the elven woman cooed with a mocking smirk, “Our conversation was so enchanting. Why let it end now? Perhaps we could all share a meal…”

“I would tell you to drop dead, but I suppose that still wouldn’t spare me from your chatter,” Shadowheart responded coldly, physically brushing the elven woman off her shoulder before striding away from the three spawns.

“Let our new friend go to her mistress, Violet.” the pale elven man suggested, his tone flippant as he watched the selûnite make her way toward the Queen with a mean-spirited smirk of his own, “I’m sure there will be plenty of chances to grab a bite with them soon enough.”

Cal and Rolan had since released each other, and the newly made King noticed that Aurelia had nervously been glancing between her fellow tieflings and her fellow vampire spawn. Rolan gave a slight nod, and Aurelia sagged slightly in relief before ushering Astarion and Violet away. Both were clearly less eager to remove themselves from the situation than their sister, but they still ultimately complied with only a minimal amount of complaining.

Cal placed a hand on Rolan’s shoulder to regain the his attention, “So are you going to introduce me to your wife or... ?”

Rolan rolled his eyes, “Don’t start...”

“Can I at least know if I should call her Queen or Sis?”

“You’re not funny, Cal.”

“Come on, Rolan. I’m trying to be happy for you.”

“This is serious business.” Rolan sighed, “Please, just keep the quips to yourself.”

Now it was Cal’s turn to roll his eyes, “Gods forbid we try to be friendly with your new wife.”

Of course, Cal was still concerned about being friendly. Rolan fondly realized he’d be a fool to have expected otherwise, but he brushed the thought aside.

“Where is Gale?” Rolan asked, “Has he gotten confirmation that Waldemar’s settlements received word of their new Queen?”

Cal didn’t respond—instead, he stared past his brother in blatant surprise. Perplexed, Rolan followed his gaze to the Queen’s gith. Rolan gave his brother an unamused look.

“I believe the gith is one of her knights.” Rolan clarified dryly, causing Cal to jump as if he’d forgotten his brother was right there.

“Sorry, I was just...” Cal glanced at Rolan before once again staring at the gith in wonder, “I knew the rumors, but I wasn’t expecting her to look so... I mean, look at those ears; they look like ours but more... elaborate, I guess? Elegant? She kind of looks like an elf but... not an elf...”

“Yes... Very fascinating.” Rolan drawled, pinning his brother with a pointed but quizzical look, “Though I recommend we leave, or you make your staring more discreet before she notices; I have yet to see her without a hand on her sword.”

Cal opened his mouth to protest but paused before sighing as he and his brother moved to enter their palace. Their retreating figures were noticed by the new Queen, who had been introducing Karlach and Alfira to her own court.

Tav hastily excused herself as she went to catch up with her husband. Lae’zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart quickly did the same, and Alfira shared a knowing glance with Karlach and Zevlor before she followed suit.

As the Dark King and the other young man made their way inside, Tav managed to catch up—in heels, no less—and overheard the two already discussing several of Waldemar’s other towns and cities. They evidently heard her approaching as the pair stopped to look back at her, their conversation trailing off.

“Oh, please, do not stop on my account.” Tav requested, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless, “Though perhaps I could be informed of any important situations as we make our way...”

Her husband’s tail flicks as he regards her silently and unreadably. The other tiefling, who greeted him with an embrace, just glances between the two newlyweds.

Tav hears the footsteps of her court, so she isn’t surprised when they join her, though she hadn’t expected Alfira to be with them.

“My apologies, your Majesties!” Alfira chimed in before addressing Tav directly with a short bow, “The King has assigned me to attend to you, and, as such, my first order of business is to give you a tour of the palace. He has also prepared a surprise for you that should be ready once the tour is complete.”

At that, Tav’s eyes widened, and she again felt her cheeks starting to flush.

A surprise from her husband on their wedding night... She suddenly felt breathless for a very different reason.

“That sounds lovely...” Tav heard herself answer before she and her friends began following the blue tiefling through the castle. Tav turns to see her husband's back walking in the opposite direction without a second glance.

It doesn’t take long before Tav notices Lae’zel beginning to grow restless and impatient, the knight letting out a ‘Chk’ every time Alfira’s guidance repeatedly leads the group from one end of the palace to the other and back again.

The longer the tour dragged on, the more Tav began to share in her knight’s frustration. The Dark King had been distant from her all evening, but she could swallow her own disappointment and accept it. They were practically strangers, and she could understand why someone in that position might be so reserved towards her on a personal level. However, they would inevitably have to face each other if she was to be able to perform her duties as his co-ruler, and yet...

Tav tried to calm herself and remain attentive to Alfira’s words, trying to at least use the time to learn about the palace and its other inhabitants—starting with Alfira herself. Apparently, the tiefling is a bard who specializes in lore, which not only helped explain the woman’s attire but also how she knew so much about the various pieces decorating the castle—although Tav was fairly certain that much of the artwork decorating the place had not been put there by the... previous rulers...

By the time they crossed paths with Karlach again, Tav could tell the meandering tour was wearing on them all. Shadowheart had been following closely at Tav’s side ever since Alfira had led them away from the Dark King to take them on this tour, but now her fellow selûnite was not even bothering to hide how she looked upon the bard with suspicion—although Karlach opting to tag along seemed to help alleviate the cleric’s agitation a little bit. Lae’zel looked down every hall they passed, causing the few servants milling about to scramble away or quickly avert their eyes from the group. Even Wyll seemed to be struggling to maintain his naturally open and friendly demeanor as the group continued to pass by still lifes of grim items arranged in a similarly grim manner, pieces depicting fiery or desolate rocky landscapes, and renditions of frightening creatures ranging from mundane beasts to fiendish beings.

The addition of Karlach’s friendly company could only do so much to soothe the growing awkwardness, especially after Tav had asked about her husband and the Royal Enforcer apologetically relayed that the Dark King was still busy. Tav didn’t even bother trying to ask with what. As frustration and nerves tangled in her mind, Tav found her hand drifting up to fidget with the string of oak leaves around her neck. It was almost a relief when Lae’zel eventually decided to speak up.

“Enough of this farce! Either our guides are unfamiliar with their own domain, or they have been intentionally dragging out this exercise in pointless tedium!” the githyanki snapped before addressing Tav, “My Lady, I take my leave of you for now. I intend to properly learn the layout of this place.”

Karlach visibly tensed, and Alfira appeared to almost protest.

“Very well, I see no problem with you accumulating yourself in whatever ways you require.” Tav replied, her tone calm but leaving little room for argument, “Please, try to be gentle, in both word and deed, as you do.”

“As you wish.” Lae’zal nodded, before making her way down one of the halls and disappearing around the corner.

When Tav returned her focus to the pair of tieflings that had been guiding them, she noticed that the Royal Enforcer seemed to be letting out a breath and had relaxed her posture again while Alfira continued to stare down the hallway after Lae’zel, the bard apparently lost in thought for a moment.

“So, Queenie,” Karlach piped up, a grin already brightening her face again, “Think your knight would be up to doin’ the occasional spar? I bet she is tough as infernal iron.”

Tav was about to respond when Alfira suddenly clasped her hands together in a friendly gesture, the sound of which managed to get the group’s collective attention.

“Karlach, I thought of something fantastic!” the bard exclaimed, “After she sees the ballroom and gardens, I think the Queen would love to see the palace forge as one of the last stops. You and Dammon could even show her around!”

Wyll lit up at the mention of a ballroom and was clearly trying politely to hide his suddenly renewed enthusiasm, but Shadowheart looked at the two tieflings with confusion.

“You... have a forge?” she asked, “Here on the palace grounds?”

“It was Rolan’s idea to get one added. More convenient to get important repairs done that way.” Karlach happily explained, “And Dammon doesn’t have to deal with bastards going out of their way to cause trouble for him anymore since he started living here, too.”

“And who’s Dammon?” Wyll asked, prompting the Royal Enforcer to get a giddy expression as her tail swayed.

“Only the best damn blacksmith in Waldemar!” Karlach declared proudly, “And my wonderful boyfriend!”

Between Wyll’s barely hidden excitement at the mention of a ballroom and Karlach’s unrestrained joy, Tav couldn’t help but smile. A glance revealed that even Shadowheart’s cool expression had softened slightly.

“I would be delighted to meet him.” Tav said, lowering her hand from the sacred oak leaves on her neck when an idea struck her, “In fact, I would like to ask him about a possible commission for myself. If you don’t think he would mind...”

Karlach’s smile grew impossibly bigger, “Queenie, Dammon will be thrilled!”

“Perfect!” Alfira interjected, “Karlach, you finish showing the Queen around, and I’ll tell Dammon to meet you at the forge.”

The bard didn’t wait for an answer before taking off, leaving Karlach to gleefully usher the new Queen and her court through the palace, the remaining knight inquiring about the ballroom. Alfira rushed through the castle, the decorative bells of her attire jingled as she sped up, running by familiar faces still busy at work in the castle even on this late night. Finally, after racing almost halfway across the castle and scaling a massive flight of stairs, she made it to Rolan’s office. She didn’t even bother announcing her presence before she slipped in and shut the door behind her, causing whatever discussion Cal and Rolan were having to halt at her arrival.

“Alfira?” Cal asked, his confusion quickly turned to mild concern as the woman made sure to lock the door before facing them. “Alfira, what’s wrong?”

“The gith- The githyanki knight-” Alfira forced herself to speak, even as her lungs still burned for air, “She is wandering the castle unsupervised.”

The bard leaned her back against the solid, intricately carved wood of the door as she caught her breath. Cal straightened up from where he’d been leaning over his brother’s shoulder while Rolan set aside the notes the pair had been looking over before he could risk crumpling the pages in his irritated grasp. The two waiting silently for Alfira to continue.

“I kept the tour going as long as I could, but Lae’zel—the githyanki—grew impatient and is now exploring the palace herself.” She continued after a moment, “I left the rest with Karlach and came directly here.”

“Gods damn it…” Rolan hissed, pushing himself back from his desk.

He hadn’t expected Alfira would need to report to him already. Perhaps he should have anticipated that a princess so used to getting her way would  be the type to so brazenly have her people begin snooping before the first night was out. At least he’d had the foresight to assign Alfira to her in the first place; now they just need to figure out what to do about the wayward gith.

“Should we get one of the spawns involved?” Cal piped up.

“Not practical.” Rolan dismissed, beginning to count the spawn off on his fingers when Cal looked at him with disbelief, “Aurelia, Astarion, and Violet are already faces she knows from this evening. Dalyria is preoccupied with the apothecary, and Leon’s eyes make him too recognizable.”

“Wait, what about Petras?” Cal asked.

Rolan looked at his brother as if the answer should have been obvious, “He’s… Petras.”

“Right...”

“None of them would be able to follow her outside during daylight either.” Alfira added, “Not without the constant risk of bursting into flames anyway...”

“I could alert Minthara.” Cal offered.

Rolan considered it for a moment but then shook his head, “Her time and resources are better spent keeping an eye on Waldemar’s other settlements.”

“Though she should still be informed about this, right?” his brother insisted, “Even if just to make her aware of it.”

At that Rolan nods, “Alfira, you will bring word of this to Minthara as you did me.”

“Understood.” the bard agreed, unlocking the door to leave before pausing, “I’ll need to take a detour first... and grab a bottle of wine.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be telling Dammon to meet the Queen and her court at the forge so he and Karlach can show it to her.” Alfira explained, “I’ll need another excuse for being late to rejoin them.”

Then, she was out the door without waiting for either of them to respond. Rolan leaned back in his chair, running his hand down his face as he let out a heavy sigh. He just wanted to be done with tonight.

“I’ll do it.”

Rolan jerked his head towards Cal, “You’ll what?”

“I can keep an eye on the githyanki.” Cal repeated, “Make sure she doesn’t spy too much.”

Rolan could only stare at his sibling in silence for a moment, “You are aware she could very well be extremely dangerous, correct?”

Cal crossed his arms and looked at Rolan the way he always did when trying to imitate Lia’s and their mother’s stubbornness, “I’ll just have to make sure my staring is more discreet then.”

“Zurgan. Fine!” Rolan bit out, taking off his jacket to remove the harness for the hidden dagger he wore in its specially made sheath, “At least keep this on you and never turn your back on her.”

Rolan practically shoves it all into his brother’s hands, and he can tell Cal nearly rolls his eyes as he accepts it. They lapsed into silence as Cal donned the harness under his own jacket. Rolan forced himself to look down at the pages he’d set aside on his desk as he heard his brother walk towards the door. He forced himself to try to read the words as he heard the door open.

“I’ll be careful, Rolan.” Cal murmured, “I promise.”

Rolan didn’t let himself look up from the page until he heard the door close.

By the time Alfira finally rejoined Tav and the others, they had already met Dammon at his forge, which he and Karlach had shown off proudly. As the blacksmith had explained when asked about Alfira’s whereabouts, the bard had arrived later with wine and vessels from which to drink it. It was Shadowheart who noticed Alfira’s return as Dammon and the others were focused on the sacred oak leaves Archdruid Halsin had gifted Waldemar’s new Queen.

As Wyll helped the two ladies-in-waiting set up an area for the group to sit, Dammon finished his assessment with a nod, “It will take some time but I can do it. I will need to ask Gale about creating a controlled enough charge of lightning to have the silver to ahear to the organic matter of the leaves... Then I will, of course, have to make sure it comes out flawless and that the silver used is pure with no discrepancies… Oh! Then there’s-”

Karlach draped her weight against Dammon, causing him to stumble slightly and break off from his rambling. She followed up with a kiss to his cheek that had him grinning even as he instantly flushed a deeper shade of red.

“In Common, love.” She chuckled with affection as she guided him to sit down with the others. “I think you lost poor Queenie over here.”

Dammon then turned back to Tav, who could only stare wide-eyed as she tried to follow any of what the blacksmith had just explained. A quick glance at the others showed that they were similarly lost.

“Right, right...” Dammon chuckled. “Yes, I can preserve the leaves in silver. It should take about… four days to do it, give or take.”

“That’s wonderful! Thank you!” Tav beamed at the young couple before excitedly brushing her hair aside so Shadowheart could help remove the necklace and hand it off to Dammon.

Alfira began to pour them each a serving of wine as Karlach smirked, “See? What do I say? Best damn blacksmith in Waldemar.”

Dammon bashfully rubbed the back of his neck at that as Tav smiled at them before softly clearing her throat, “Now, regarding payment... Would you rather I pay you in advance?”

The blacksmith shook his head, “You can pay me once the commission is finished, your Majesty. I know you’re good for the coin.”

“Besides, we’ll know where to find you.” Karlach teased with a friendly wink.

“Yes, I suppose you do.” Tav chuckled, “So, will 7,500 gold be enough?

There is a sudden silence as Karlach and Dammon stare at Tav with wide eyes.

Shit! Was that too low? Are they offended?!

Tav nervously fidgeted with the material of her gown beneath the table, “Or would 10,000 gold suffice?”

Dammon makes a strangled noise that has Tav fearing for a moment that he’d inhaled his wine as Karlach pulled the blacksmith to lean against her and patted his back, “Slow down there, Queenie. You’ll give Dammon a heart attack if you go any higher.”

Dammon blindly fumbles for his girlfriend’s hand as he stares off into the distance, “It’s- It’s only a 100 gold job... Any higher, and I might as well be robbing you.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us then. I certainly wouldn’t have known any better.” Wyll laughed, giving the blacksmith a friendly and approving smile, “Seems the Royal Enforcer has chosen a man as honest as he is talented.”

Karlach smirked, “Damn right I did.”

“Then... How about this,” Tav spoke, now more sure of herself, “100 gold for the commission and 100 gold for you delivering it personally.”

Karlach and Dammon share a smile before the blacksmith holds out his hand, “You have a deal, your Majesty.”

With a handshake and an agreement made, Shadowheart points out the late hour, and Alfira agrees that it would be best for the new Queen and her court to turn in for the night.

Though not before Rolan’s gift.

They part ways from Karlach and Dammon, bidding the pair a good evening before the group once again follows Alfira through the hallways. In seemingly no time at all, Alfira stopped at an ornately decorated door, which she opened with a flourish before turning to hand Tav a gilded key and gesturing for the Queen to enter.

It’s a beautifully decorated room, with an ornate desk and chair placed in front of a large window, fresh-cut flowers arranged in a variety of gorgeous vases, plush couches, and a grand, luxurious bed. Tav walks around the room, trying to take in everything from the elegant furniture to the tea set with silver detailing.

“These are your quarters for you to do with as you please.” Alfira explained, “King Rolan felt you would enjoy your own space.”

That or he would enjoy keeping his own space… Tav thought before she could stop herself, though she brushed it aside and offered a sincere thanks to be delivered to her husband for the lovely gift.

Alfira bows and then looks towards the others. “Now, I’ll see you both to your rooms. I’m sure the Queen is ready for bed.”

Butterflies erupted in Tav’s stomach as she bid her friends and her new lady-in-waiting goodnight, leaving her alone with her thoughts as the group departed.

Soon, she was pacing around the room. It’s the first time she has been alone this evening, and she suddenly isn’t sure what to do with herself. She tries relaxing, idly casting a few cantrips, and even tries to focus on praying to Selûne… but her restless mind keeps returning to the same thought…

When will her husband join her, and what will they do when he does?

Well… she had a semblance of an idea regarding the latter... Tav stripped out of her wedding gown and removed her jewelry, leaving her to continue pacing around the candle lit room in only the pale blue slip the head selûnite cleric back home had insisted on for the occasion. However, as Tav looks at the soft color and the delicate embroidery, she is unsure if this is something that the Dark King would even like. Maybe he’d prefer something else? Perhaps red, low cut, and sheer…

If he were to run those claws over such material, then he could so easily tear it away. Then again, he could probably tear any material off her if he so pleased

Her cheeks burn at the thought. She moves across the room quickly to throw open the window, hoping the cool evening breeze will ease her flushing skin and help quell her racing mind.

Leaning out the window, Tav lets the night’s chill wash over her. She tells herself that she shouldn’t be so nervous... Married couples do this all the time after their weddings. Besides, King Rolan is  handsome. Though most couples have had more of a relationship, more conversations before their first night together… She had  hoped they would have had a chance for that after the ceremony. This all would likely be less nerve-wracking then.

Though... Perhaps this is what he likes... Hearts racing, body shaking with uncertain anticipation, getting to know each other’s bodies first when everything is still so painstakingly new...

Tav shakes her head, hardly feeling the night’s chill as her face heats instantly again. Closing the window with a sigh, Tav continued trying to wrangle her thoughts and finish getting ready.

She toyed with the idea of doing something with her hair before ultimately deciding to just leave it down. Then, after finding a few bottles of fragrant oils arranged on a vanity, Tav sat on the canopy bed, slowly massaging them into her skin. She made her body relax, relishing in the soothing motions, how it made her skin feel soft, and how nice it smelled. Hopefully, this would impress him. Tav suddenly pauses from rubbing the oil into the skin of her legs and groans in frustration.

Since when has she ever been so worried about such a thing? Why now?

Again, Tav shook her head. She knew why—of course, she knew. She wanted this to work. Sivailon needed this to work.

Tav sighed heavily, allowing herself to slump back into her pillows. She spares a look towards the flickering flame at her bedside. Maybe she should snuff the flame out... or that was for him to do when he arrived?

He could probably pinch it out with his fingers... The heat barely had an effect on his warm skin.

She groaned as her thoughts wandered once again, though she didn’t bother trying to stop them this time and merely let her eyes fall closed.

A stirring wakes her, prompting Tav to sit up, her head groggy as she looks out into the darkened room. Someone had extinguished the candle at her bedside, and now the only illumination left is a soft beam of silver moonlight spilling in from the window. Tav’s gaze follows it until she spots movement in the shadows, and then two eyes, like twin eclipses of fiery gold, stare back at her from the darkness.

Tav felt the blood rush to her face as she watched, straining her eyes as she tried to see him better through the dark. With how he moves, she realizes he is taking off his clothes. As if aware of her curious gaze, he crosses through the stream of moonlight, allowing her a fleeting glimpse of his body, revealing he’d already shed his top and his jewelry. As he draws closer, she can just make out his hands, unfastening his belt.

She tries to say something—anything—but breaks off with a gasp at the feeling of his hands softly caressing her shoulders while his glowing eyes roam her face. The Dark King’s body is so close, she wonders if the heat she feels is from him or the anticipation simmering just beneath her skin.

The Dark King guides her to lean back as he joins her on the bed, his eyes burning a path down the silk slip to where he now sits between her legs. He looks back up, his gaze holding a silent question she eagerly answers. She gently nudges one of his hands lower and nods as he drags his dexterous fingers past the sides of her breast to the curve of her waist. His claws lightly trace over the silk, slowly causing her body to arch up into his touch. When he reached where the cloth was now riding up her hip, his hands stilled as he glanced back at her expression again before resuming.

She shudders as he leans in closer, his breath fanning across her ear as his hand dips beneath the hem of the slip and it feels like a tingling fire is left in its wake. Tav watches as the Dark King slowly ghosts his sharp claws up the soft skin of her thighs, the muscles tightening in response to his touch. Her heart pounds within her chest, as his finger wonders then he stops as his finger brushes against the wet spot of her underwear making her gasp. He does it again, more purposefully this time, as he makes a low hum of approval.

The Dark King shifts his position, allowing him to lower his head to the crook of her neck so that he could feel more of her. He smirks as he presses his lips to her skin before teasing her with his sharp teeth before drawing away.

Tav released a shuddered huff, though she could hardly tell if it was from relief or disappointment.

“Don’t worry,” the Dark King whispered into her ear, “I promise to be gentle.” 

Tav reaches up to do her own exploring, blindly feeling along the length of his horns, trying in vain to map them out in her mind. She feels his breathing become more shallow when she runs a hand through his hair, slowly combing her fingers down through it as she carefully tugs him closer, her fingers carefully caressing his chest.

Was that just her heart racing, or was his hammering away too? He pulls back before she can figure it out. The Dark King finally shoves her silk slip further up her body with one hand as his fingers finally push aside her underwear, granting a clawed digit access to trace her wet slit. Slowly he moves up to her clit, so swollen and sensitive to every little touch. Tav’s back arches as he circles the bud. His tail coils around her leg, and he slides an arm under her back. He lowers himself slowly until his weight begins to press down on her. She is torn between wanting to pull him closer and wanting to better explore his body when he returns his head to the nape of her neck, first breathing in her scent before his warm lips start to kiss along her already feverish skin.

They still haven’t really said anything to each other, but maybe they don’t need to. Tav takes a sharp inhale as she felt his tongue against her skin, her husband clearly more focused on using his tongue for something other than words.

Fuck it.

She starts to move her hips softly against his hand, and that is all the hint he needs. The Dark King hooked a claw under her panties, effortlessly tearing the material before discarding it. His hand soon returned to feeling how she was dripping for him. 

Tav lets out a pleading whine and once again feels him smile against her throat. Then he moves forward, his hips nudging her legs further apart and leaving her cunt exposed to him. His eyes watches her quiver as he drags his length against Tav’s wetness, coating himself in it. The heat of him made her shiver as she fought the urge to grab him by the shoulders and grind her hips on him to reach her pleasure. He pauses, pushing himself up to look into her eyes. His own were now completely dilated as he brought their faces closer. Then he pushes the tip inside her slowly watching her face contort. She moans at the stretch, a sound the Dark King swallows as he leans in and finally gives his bride a kiss…

Tav wakes with a gasp, only to immediately squint her bleary eyes against the light of early morning. She slowly turns her head to the side of the bed before sitting up to look about the room, only to find herself alone. Her gaze catches on the candle at her bedside, completely burned down to the wick with the last few wisps of smoke signaling how the flame had just recently sputtered out. Tav moves to more firmly prop herself up as she uncomfortably shifts in her ruined panties—ruined but still on her and in one piece.

He never came…

[ghost-whump]

hello!! I saw requests are open and would be willing to write something with this prompt?

a character goes back in time and finds their enemy being tortured. now everything they knew that happens in the future makes sense and the situation provides some much needed context to fill in the gaps…the only thing is, after rescuing their future enemy from the torture, their enemy has now devoted their loyalty to their rescuer.

(@whumpwillow)

hi!! this ask was apparently sent last year, but it had not appeared in my ask box until now…

but i’ll try my best almost a year later! buckle up, it’s a long one.

Monster

Villain was a tough person. Angry at the world and at Hero, specifically. They’d been hell bent on destroying the planet (a bit clichéd, if you asked Hero, but fair) for so long and with such passion, that Hero had gotten curious.

As a government employee, they had access to the top secret time machine. One thing leads to another and then,

“Please! I’m begging you, please…”

Villain, albeit a much younger version, kneeled on the floor. They couldn’t have been much older than a teenager, lanky and pale. Dressed in dirtied and torn clothes that were clearly much too small, Villain clutched onto the legs of a woman that stood over them.

“I’m sorry, r-really, I am. I’ll be good and quiet and I won’t hurt anything ever again, I promise! Let me out, for just a minute, please, I-!”

They were cut off with a sharp slap. Hero held back a gasp. Though they stood in a dark corner, obscured from both of their views, they couldn’t help but feel too close to the scene. Like they were watching something they shouldn’t.

The woman kicked her foot, sending Villain onto the cement floor with cry.

“Don’t touch me, rat!” She held aloft a tin can, labeled as a vague mystery meat. The kind one would keep in apocalypse rations or a weird, evil boot camp. It didn’t look appetizing. As if she just stepped in a sticky puddle, the woman soured, “I’ve told you not to talk me like that. You know you don’t deserve my mercy. Not until you get better.”

Villain whimpered and held their cheek. “Sorry… I…” They scooted backwards into the wall.

The woman, stepping forward into the dim light of the room, placed the can on its side and lightly kicked it in Villain’s direction. It rolled until hit their shin, but they didn’t pick it up. Watery eyes stared at it, fingers twitching, but made no move to pick it up.

At first, Hero thought they might be afraid of it.

Villain looked up at the woman, then back at the can.

With a small grin, the woman said, “Good boy… Good restraint.” Then, silence. It dragged on for a minute, maybe more. “You can have it now.”

Villain lunged for the can, which had rolled away a little. They clutched it with shaking hands, pulling it close to their chest. Barely above a whisper, they mumbled, “Thank you, Mom.”

Spinning on her heel, the woman stormed off. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your mother,” She spat, “Not anymore.”

Her steps retreated as she ascended a flight of stairs, confirmed Hero’s theory that they were in a basement. Their attention was turned back to Villain at the sound of growling. Expecting a wild animal or beast, they were shocked to discover that it actually came from the teenager in the room. They had the can in their hands and teeth, trying to gnaw it open.

While Villain did… that… Hero’s eyes wandered the room. In the opposite corner was a worn and stained twin mattress, a thin blanket, and a pile of identical empty mystery meat cans. None have been opened the proper way, all are smashed, chewed, or other variously destroyed states.

Hero couldn’t help but think, as would anyone, “Poor Villain.”

They couldn’t just stand around and watch them struggle.

Cautiously, remembering that this Villain we’re talking about, Hero stepped out of the shadows. When the kid didn’t look up, they softly cleared their throat.

Villain’s eyes jumped up, scrambling back. They held the can, now slightly dented, like a weapon. “Who— Who are y-you? Get out of h-here!”

“It’s okay. My name is Hero, I’m here to help you.” They held their hands up, palms open. They’re no threat.

“N-no. You have to get away… You- You… I’ll hurt you! You can’t be here, i-it’s not allowed!” With a cry, they hurled the can at Hero, who reflexively caught it mid-flight.

Considering the can, rolling it over in their hand a few times, Hero appraised the damage. “Here, I’ll open this for you.”

Under Villain’s watchful glare, Hero reached into their pockets and pulled out a knife. They didn’t miss the whimper that came across the room at the sight. Stabbing the lid of the can, they jimmied it off with relative ease. Not a perfect cut, like they’d get with a can opener, but not bad.

Hero lowered to the floor, placing the can down. There was still a good ten-feet of distance between them, so they slid it across the floor. Villain snatched it and used their hands to shovel the mushy brown slop into their mouth. Between bites, they briefly looked back up at Hero. “Thanks,” They grunted.

“Yeah. It’s the least I could do.”

A minute passed in silence, occasionally broken by the horrible sounds of Villain devouring the meat like a wild animal.

“Do you want to talk to me now?” Hero asked, taking the smallest step closer.

Taking a pause from licking the inside of the can, “What?”

“Why are you here, I mean. Forgive me for saying this, but a dirty basement isn’t exactly the place to keep a teenager.”

Villain curled their knees to their chest, placing the can woefully beside them. “Why do you care? I don’t even — I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m Hero. And you’re Villain. I know more about you than you think.”

“‘Hero’ is a stupid name.”

They grimaced. Charming as ever. “You’ll come around to it.”

Villain crawled over to their bed. They deposited the can with the others and flopped onto the mattress. It seemed to hurt them. “If you’re going to do something, would you just get it over with? I’m tired.”

“…”

“Well? Does a kid with an attitude not get your rocks off? Need something less mouthy?” They commented with a sneer.

“Why would I-” Hero cut themselves off, feeling even grosser than they did before. They steeled their face and pressed on. “Look, I’m just going to get you out of here. I don’t care about an attitude or why you’re down here, this isn’t right.”

Villain chuckled, “Good luck. I can’t leave here. It’s not allowed.”

“Why isn’t it allowed?” They questioned, taking another step closer. They were nearly at the foot of the bed.

“‘Cus I’m a monster,” Villain spat, grimacing at the word. “I hurt things, I just can’t stop myself. Animals, people, whatever. I’m not allowed outside because I’ll kill something, like I killed my sister.” Their voice got quieter as they spoke, less and less snarky with each passing moment. “Besides,” they sniffed, “I don’t even want to leave. I have everything I need here.”

Hero nodded along, contemplating. “Then why did you beg your mother to leave?”

Villain blanched. “That’s… That’s not…”

Without further prompting, Hero bent down and plucked Villain off the ground with surprising ease. The kid was light as a feather. The kid yelped but didn’t struggle. “Nope. You’re coming with me. No arguments.”

This was probably not the smartest decision Hero had ever made. Damned the consequences, the timeline, whatever. Hero took an oath to protect those in need and, well, Villain seemed pretty in need.

They pressed a few buttons on the time-machine on their wrist and in a flash of light, they were thrust forward in time.

The weight of Villain was gone from their arms, causing them to panic. They were supposed to be coming with them, but they just disappeared!? What happened, what —

“Welcome back, Hero!”

They stumbled, losing their balance from the jump. A hard grabbed their arm, keeping them steady. Hero looked up at this stranger. They didn’t have any assistants, there shouldn’t be anyone here, there can’t be…

It’s them, with shorter hair and rectangular glasses, they wore a lab coat and held a clipboard. But this was…

“Are you alright, Hero? It’s me, Villain.”

woof, that’s a long one. i wasn’t sure if i was going to finish it. once again, sorry it’s been like a year (unless it’s new and tumblr is wigging out on me) but i hope this is done to a good degree.

thanks for reading :]

General Tag: @morning-star-whump

[yan-lorkai]

Since I checked that suggestive fic are fine could you write one for Jamil where reader has been pining for him for a long time but he is hesitant since he has Kalim to take care off and can't slack off or smth

Ignore if you want :) and sorry if I overlooked a rule!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've made you wait quite a bit, darling, but I finally finished writing this ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾. Though I let it end in a happy ending, originally it was going to end in a more bittersweet way. Either way, I hope you like it!

You had always known there was something about Jamil that captivated you, pulling you in with each passing day. He was more than just the stoic and responsible figure that stood in Kalim’s shadow. He was hardworking, kind and always reliable, traits that only made your heart ache with longing. For so long, you kept your feelings hidden, knowing he carried more responsibility than anyone should, but tonight, something in you snapped.

You watched Jamil move through the courtyard, his shoulders slightly hunched from the weight of the day. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to tell him how you felt, even if you knew there was a risk he might push you away. He needed to know that there was he could lean on.

"Jamil," you called out softly, your voice barely carrying across the courtyard. His steps slowed, and he turned toward you, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes filled with that quiet exhaustion you had come to recognize.

You swallowed, nerves threatening to choke your words. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Jamil raised a brow, stepping closer. “I’m listening.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered your courage. “I, uh… Well, Jamil, I like you. A lot. I know you’re always busy, taking care of Kalim, and I know how hard you work, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. I've been holding onto those feelings for a very long time.”

For a moment, there was silence. Jamil blinked, visibly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to hesitate, his brows furrowing in deep thought.

You pressed on, feeling your chest tighten. “I just wanted you to know. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to be a burden, but I had to tell you how I feel.”

Jamil exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he watched you. He looked like he wanted to say something, but again, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to pull him back.

“It’s not that I don’t…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t afford to get distracted right now. Kalim needs me. I can’t let my guard down, even if it’s for something — someone — I care about.”

Your breath hitched at his words but before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

“Oh, come on, Jamil!” Kalim’s voice rang out from behind the nearby fountain, startling both of you. He stepped out from behind the marble structure with a wide grin, looking between you and Jamil like this was the best thing he’d ever witnessed. “I knew you liked them too! You don’t have to worry about me so much!”

Jamil’s eyes widened in shock, a flush creeping up his neck. “Kalim — what are you — how long have you been listening?”

Kalim waved off Jamil’s question with a laugh, completely unbothered. “Long enough! I wasn’t spying, I promise, but I heard some of what you said. Jamil, you work so hard, but you’re allowed to be happy too! I can take care of myself sometimes, you know.” He grinned, glancing at you. “And besides, I think they’d make you really happy, they always looked at you with such adoring eyes!”

Your heart fluttered, unsure of what to say. Kalim, in his usual cheerful way, had just dismantled all the walls Jamil had carefully built around himself.

“Kalim, it’s not that simple,” Jamil muttered, still looking flustered.

Kalim crossed his arms, his grin never fading. “It is that simple! You deserve to have someone who cares about you. I’ll be fine! And, you know, I kinda already figured you liked them.”

Jamil looked down, clearly battling with himself, but Kalim’s words seemed to have chipped away at his resolve. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and… something else.

After a long pause, Jamil let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I do like you. More than I’ve wanted to admit,” He finally said, his voice soft but sincere. “But I’ve always been worried that if I let myself have something for me, it’ll somehow mess everything up.”

You stepped closer, your heart swelling with hope. “You won’t mess anything up, Jamil. You deserve to have something for yourself, too. I’m not asking you to change anything — I just want to be there for you, like you’re always there for everyone else.”

Jamil looked at you for a long moment, and finally, his tense posture relaxed. He exhaled deeply, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… you’re right.”

Kalim clapped his hands, clearly thrilled with the way things were unfolding. “See? This is great! I’ll be fine, Jamil. You two go ahead and be happy together!”

Jamil shot him a look, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead, he turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t promise I’ll always get it right,” he murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “But I’ll try. If you’re willing to put up with that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth as you took his hand. “I’m more than willing.”

As you stood there, hand in hand with Jamil, Kalim grinning like he had just orchestrated the happiest ending possible, you couldn’t help but feel that, maybe, everything had finally fallen into place.

[starkspi]

Trying to bribe @morningstarwrites with these sketches so I can read the new chapter earlier ha! Thank you for the inspiration, the challenge and the absolute joy this fic brings me. I’d kiss your brain folds if I could.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon!

Request: alien x orc x human with human reader and NSFW please. Something with some angst and fluff mixed in.

A/N: Sorry for all the "alien boyfriend" and "orc boyfriend", brain wasn't braining today. This has a fair amount of hurt/comfort, enjoy!

Intergalactic idiots

Alien x orc x fem!reader | angst with happy ending, body worship, oral sex

You are anxiously waiting next to the ER door when your orc boyfriend walks in with the saddest face you’ve ever seen. “What is it?” You ask immediately, knowing well that for him to be alone, for him to have called for you to be at the hospital when they arrived… something must be very, very wrong.

“There was an accident,” he announced, looking at the floor. And your alien boyfriend is nowhere to be found, so it must be something bad with him. Something happened and your heart is beating fast and hard, making you want to scream.

“What? What happened? Where is he? Is he hurt?” You ask in a quick succession, feeling like the weight of the world falling over you at the thought of losing him. Losing either of them, but right now you can’t process the fact that he could have been hurt, too. You can only process the fact that your alien boyfriend is not there, and that means he’s been hurt.

He sighs heavily and lets out a teary: “He- He got shot.” As soon as the words leave his mouth your tears are running down your face.

“You promised! You promised you would take care of him!” You scream at him, you are hitting his chest with your fists, not really hurting him but needing to let out your frustration and pain.

He cries, too, his body sagging as he lets you hit him. “I- I know. I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed both of you.” If you were in another moment of your life, if your anxiety wasn’t so high, you could have said something, that it wasn’t his fault, that he had nothing to worry about and you were glad he was okay… But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You could only imagine the worst and your body froze in place as you ask: “Can- can I see him?”

“Not yet, darling, the doctors are working on him,” his voice soft and placating, but you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear him talk at all, your brain wants to blame someone and he’s there. He was there when your alien boyfriend got shot…

You don’t even realize how his hands are bloody and his face is stained with tears. You don’t realize his hands are trembling and his body is scratched in a thousand places. You sit there in silence and don’t accept his hand when he offers comfort. You two fall silent, sitting next to each other but barely moving as the time ticks.

Time passes, you don’t know how much, but when a naga doctor appears, you are on your feet and walking to her instantly. Your orc boyfriend follows, but you don’t mind anything at all, you only need to know he’s alright. “Is he okay?”

And she says the most precious words: “He will be.”

It takes a whole week for your alien boyfriend to be back home. An awful week where you don’t talk to your orc boyfriend, you barely see him at all. You don’t sleep together, you don’t go together to the hospital at all, and when your alien gets back home, you two walk awkwardly around each other until he gets tired of your shit.

You are organizing the wardrobe when your orc boyfriend walks in and you don’t say anything. Your alien boyfriend realizes instantly: “What is it between you two? You barely spend time in the same room, you are not touching each other. Or me for the matter,” he adds the last part just as a joke, but you flinch at his words.

You let out in a short breath, your heart beating fast as everything that has happened comes crashing into you. You feel bad, you feel so bad, but you don’t know how to fix it. You acted like a really bad girlfriend, you were shitty to him, and you don’t know what to do about it. And now your alien wants to talk about it and you can’t avoid it anymore.

“We… We are okay,” you let out, the lie tasting like ashes in your mouth. Your orc boyfriend is looking at you with a pained expression, and you swallow around the knot in your throat.

Your alien boyfriend sits on the bed and calls you out: “Bullshit. What happened?” He asks, looking between you two.

“I failed you,” your orc boyfriend says and your heart hurts for him, you want to go to him and hug him until the pain goes away, but… but you don’t know if he would welcome that, and it hurts more than it should.

Your alien boyfriend looks shocked. “You what? No, you didn’t. You think you did?” He points at your orc and he shrugs, and then points at you. “And you think he did?” You shrug, not wanting to answer, either. “You are both stupid as fuck. Come here,” he orders.

“But the wounds…” You try to argue with him, but he looks at you with those eyes that drive you in instantly, making you shiver.

“Come. Here.” He repeats. Both of you obey, walking to him like he’s pulling invisible strings.

You sit next to him, your orc boyfriend sits on the other side, and you both look at him expectantly. “You are the glue that keeps us together, you know that,” your orc boyfriend finally says.

“No, I’m not. What keeps us together is how much we love each other, and the fact that you two have been walking around eggshells around me and each other because of something neither of us is at fault in is incredibly stupid.” You two remain silent, knowing ful well he’s right. Your eyes are full of tears and you feel about to burst into sobs, but the comforting presence of your boyfriends keeps you controlled. For about two seconds before he says: “And what’s even worse, you two haven’t been touching my dick or your own parts and it shows.” You laugh between your tears, feeling the knot in your throat slowly dissolving as you hit his arm without any strength. “Ouch! Hitting the wounded alien, what a mean human we have here…” He jokes more, making your tears run free within your laughter. “Oh sweetie, don’t cry…” He lets out, his tone going soft.

And then your orc boyfriend is looking at you with a panicked expression. “Don’t cry, darling, please, you know it drives me insane to see you cry…” You know it does, he gets crazy and panics every time you cry because he doesn’t know what to do, how to act, tears really scare him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to sniffle and making the most awful sound as you start to sob uncontrollably.

“Shit,” they both say at the same time, their arms coming around your body and getting you in an alien-orc sandwich. You cry more while they hug you tightly between them.

“I thought you were going to die,” you sob. “I was so worried.”

Your alien boyfriend kisses your forehead. “I know, sweetie, I know… But I’m okay. I swear.” He looks over your shoulder and orders to your orc boyfriend: “Tell her I’m going to be okay.”

“I- He… I-” He starts but can’t finish the sentence, a single tear running down his face and making your heart squeeze painfully again, another ugly sob escaping.

“You too?” The alien says, exasperated.

“I was worried, too, you asshole! I saw you bleed, I held my hands to your bleeding form as you passed out. I was scared shitless that you were going to die and it would be my fault.” You listen as he explains and you feel like the worst asshole in the world. He suffered, too. He was worried, too. And you acted like a jackass and made it even worse for him. And for you. You denied yourself of the comfort you thought you didn’t deserve and hurt him in the process. What a shitty girlfriend.

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t nobody’s fault.” Your alien boyfriend explains, now rubbing his hands in both of your backs, trying to calm you down. “Now come on, kiss each other and say you are sorry for being stupid,” he jokes. “It’s not a suggestion.”

“I’m sorry,” you both say at the same time, a teary giggle escaping from your mouths as you kiss each other sweetly.

But it soon becomes frantic and passionate. For someone used to kiss and fuck every day, spending more than a week without any kind of action has been a pain for all of you, and it shows. You hate that your alien boyfriend was right. He’s going to be insufferable about it, you can already tell.

You break apart and look at him, lying there with a hand inside his pants, rubbing up and down. “You are a pervert,” you joke, licking your lips and looking at his covered erection.

“Oh, I know… And you are, too.” You blush, looking down because you know he’s right. “Now, are we going to fuck or what?” He let out bluntly.

You look at him, and think about the literal hole in his side that is still healing. “But you are wounded.”

“My dick works fine,” he says, lowering his pants enough to show you his pretty white dick, already glistening with precum.

You think about it, you want to tell him no, you can’t have sex, but you feel desperate. You feel needy, you need to touch them and be reminded they are okay. They are alive. And so are you. “You… You can’t move,” you finally said. It should be okay if he doesn’t move, right?

“I can’t?” He says, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

You both say in unison: “No.”

You lean against your orc’s chest and whisper against his ear: “Should we tie him down?” He nods. “You take the balls and I take the dick?” You add, bemusedly. He pulls back and nods, a big smile framed by his tusks. You lean down and kiss him until you are breathless.

“That’s not fair, you are forgetting about me.” You look at him and he’s pouting, his big black eyes looking into your soul with a glint of arousal mixed with some desperation. You shiver, but say nothing as you take your orc’s belt and tie it around your alien’s hands and the headboard, immobilizing him. “And you say I’m the kinky one?” He asks between laughs as he tries to move his hands and realizes you tied it more securely than he expected. You start unbuttoning his sleep shirt as he struggles, your orc boyfriend taking his pants off slowly. “Wait, I’m going to be the only one naked here?” He asks, still trying to break free and earning himself an annoyed look as you both stop what you are doing to look at him.

“Yes,” you say at the same time.

He stops struggling and looks between you two, frowning without eyebrows, which makes him look kinda funny. “That’s not fai-” He doesn’t get to say anything else before your orc boyfriend wraps his lips around the tip of his alien dick.

He breaks into a big moan as you start kissing your way down his torso, being very careful about his side wound. You kiss the edges of the bandage around it and keep going down, your tongue tracing the ridges of his torso as he shivers. You keep going down, not forgetting to kiss even an inch of his beautiful torso until you are face to face with your orc. He has his lips wrapped around the tip of your alien’s dick, not even doing much, just sucking like he’s a lollipop he’s enjoying. You ignored the struggle before, but hearing your alien whimpering and groaning as if he’s being tortured turns you on so much you can’t stop from slipping a hand inside your panties.

Your orc boyfriend realizes first: “Don’t you dare touch that pussy, that’s mine to please,” he growls, pulling back from the dick he was sucking. You smile at him cheekily and peck on his lips, rapidly ignoring him in favor of taking his place.

He grumbles something and you feel his hand slipping next to yours as he goes down and takes the alien balls in his mouth, rolling them around messily. You can only hear his filthy sounds and your alien’s whimpers. Soon, you are groaning around his shaft too, the orc’s dexterous fingers rubbing your clit in the most amazing way possible and making your brain go blank for a second, your groans joining the symphony of sex in the room.

“I’m about… I’m gonna…” You hear the warning over your head before you feel his dick opening and the little tentacles holding your face down as he comes in your mouth.

The first time was a surprise, but you’ve come to love when his weird dicks does alien things, it’s exhilarating to know he can hold you down in more than one way. But at that moment, as he releases inside your mouth and you keep sucking, your tongue lapping at him as your orc boyfriend sucks his balls like they are his favorite candy, you feel hotter than ever, your pussy so wet around the orc’s fingers you are two thrusts away from exploding.

And then you feel it, the flicker of your orc’s finger against your clit and the burning sensation in your lower abdomen as the orgasm takes you by surprise, your mouth occupied as you groan around alien dick and fall apart around orc fingers. Your brain short circuits for a second, ad your vision blacks and you can’t have any coherent thoughts as your orgasms takes over your body and brain. It never ceases to amaze you how great the sex has been since you three started dating, who would have thought thruple sex would be the best of your life?

When you come down from your orgasm and the alien dick-tacles (dick-tentacles you know) in your mouth finally release you, you fall flat against the mattress as your orc boyfriend laughs over you both for being fucked out and boneless. “Are we good now?” He asks.

“What? No!” Your alien exclaims, surprising you. You look at him with a question in your eyes. “He hasn’t come yet,” he explains, looking at your orc with a smirk on his face. He blushes in the prettiest shade of green and you want nothing more but to maul him… sexually.

“I can fix that,” you say, throwing yourself at him and trusting he would catch you. He does, and you kiss him senseless, your hand reaching for his erection.

You hear some struggling and then your alien is pouting again. “Is nobody going to untie me?” He says in the most whiny tone ever.

You two break apart and look at him with a smile as you say in unison: “No,” and laugh loudly. He grumbles some more as you two kiss again, your hand rubbing his erection.

“I regret forcing you to solve your communication problems,” he lets out grumpily. But you know it’s a lie. He’s smiling big as he struggles against the restrains and you jerk your orc’s boyfriend and he watches.

Everything would be alright.

[divinemiracles]

I find it strange with how so many people say that Luz is the “people pleaser of the show” and ignore Willow completely.

[sevikasenby]

well rip to 3 of my sevika drawings now as well 😒

[crowcryptid]

secretly got to touch grass today

Cannot believe how many west african rainbow lizards there are now. They’re more common than iguanas.

They started popping up a few years ago and now you can’t go outside without seeing them it’s crazy

[catastrxblues]

good morning it is now 4 am and i have just finished watching atonement good night