#I'm sorry that the Keep Reading keeps disappearing

[woso-dreamzzz]

Read II

England Lionesses x Child!Reader

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: There's a reason you don't have sugar

You hold reading lessons every day at camp because you want the rest of the England team to not be knuckleheads anymore and to prove Mikey from school wrong.

It's not easy to learn how to read so you know you need to come back to make sure everyone has been keeping up with their learning because that's what Mummy and Daddy do to you.

They started teaching you how to read very early so you were fairly advanced when you went to school.

You think Mikey's just jealous because you're a good reader and he's a bad one but, still, you want to make sure to prove him wrong.

Mary always says the best revenge is proving haters wrong. You don't know if Mikey's a hater but you'll assume he is because better safe than sorry.

You've done a good job at teaching everyone though because Maya, Millie T and Tooney all give you some sherbet sweets. They make your mouth go a little tingly when you try them but you like that feeling so the three of them keep feeding you more.

They're responsible for you while Mary's getting the last bit of treatment before you all get on the coach to go to the stadium. Usually, someone else is responsible for you but you did a quick reading lesson for Maya and Millie with Tooney as your assistant so they're supervising you before the journey.

You decide that you really like the sherbet straws they give you and Maya dares you to see how many you can finish before you have to go.

You don't count but it's definitely a lot.

Enough for you to feel super hyped when you're finally reunited with Mary. She's picked out a set of four seats with a table and she's already got your rucksack full of books open for you to pick from.

You're very advanced in your reading for such a young kid but even you struggle a little bit. Now that you've taught Mary to read, she can read very well from the books that are a bit too complicated for you right now so she's in charge of reading them to you as you drive to the pitch.

"Er..." You say as you look at the selection," That one."

"Alright," Mary says, cracking open the book and clearing her throat. She gets about halfway through before she notices how wiggly you're being. "Hey, rugrat, do you need the toilet?"

You frown. "No. Keep reading, Mary."

"Are you sure? I can take you."

"No, Mary. My book, please."

"Alright." Mary keeps reading but she's acutely aware of the way you keep wiggling in your seat.

You seem to think you're fine though. Or, at least, you don't think you need the toilet which is Mary's main worry.

"Okay," She says finally," Go and find someone to hang out with. I need to talk to Tooney."

You seem all too happy to scamper off, practically throwing yourself at Beth across the aisle.

"Tooney!" Mary snaps, interrupting the conversation she and Alessia are having.

"Jesus, Mary! You scared me there!"

"What did you give my sister?" Mary demands," She's never been like this before."

"Like what?"

"Like that!"

Mary points over to where you've decided it's a funny idea to crowd surf over the girls at the front, who are bouncing you a bit as they pass you off to the girls sitting behind them.

"She doesn't do that! She's also not wiggly on the bus! What did you give her?"

Tooney winces. "I gave her nothing!"

Mary narrows her eyes. "What did you let Millie and Maya give her?"

Tooney's eyes dart to them quickly before she clears her throat. "I've got the right to remain silent! Anything I say or do can be used against me in a court of-"

Mary's already moved off before Tooney can finish and she crosses the coach to confront the other two. "I'm not interested in excuses. Tell me what you've given my sister."

Her gaze is clearly intimidating because Maya and Millie fold instantly and Mary's on her way back to her seat, easily plucking you from someone's arms to set you back down next to her.

It seems most of the sugar rush has disappeared now but then another problem makes itself known.

The bus goes over a series of bumps and you make a little aborted movement forward.

Mary recognises the action and whips out a plastic bag. "Here, rugrat," She says," Let it out. Let it all out."

She rubs your back as you throw up. It takes a lot longer than usual to hurl up your guts and Mary narrows her eyes over the top of her seat to look at Millie and Maya.

This is all their fault, Mary knows it.

It's because of all of the sugar you've consumed that you've thrown up so bad and, as she ties the bag shut, Mary briefly contemplates throwing it at Millie and Maya.

"Juice, please," You say and Mary hands it to you," Sorry, Mary."

"It's okay," She says," It's not your fault. Do you want to continue your book?"

You nod, leaning against your sister, energy drained. "Yes, please."

[cellophaine]

Chapter VI: OUT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Negative thoughts due to toxic parents.

Author's Note: Sorry for the late upload! I fell into a rut after the last update, and thought I could make deadline since this chapter is shorter. I hope you will enjoy this little intermission before things kick into gear in the next chapter!

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

You woke up around noon on the 27th. Disoriented and starved, you rummaged through the cupboards for a quick meal. You scarfed the instant noodles down in silence. There was no taste, only texture processed in your distracted mind, but it was enough to keep your stomach from gurgling. Afterward, you turned your phone on to find missed calls, voice mails, and texts accumulated in a concerning number. Most of them were from Art. His earnest concerns and their urgency burgeoned with each message, and so did your guilt as you read them. Remorse festered and spread through your skin like a cling film as you listened to his voicemails. Art just wanted to know if you were okay, and here you were, not responding.

What could you say? You dwelled on each hypothetical response; you typed them out just to delete them. Your eyes followed the characters as they slowly disappeared, watching each word withdraw itself behind the blinking cursor until you were left with an empty field again. It felt wrong, not reassuring Art, but a part of you believed it was for the best. What would happen if he found out about the real you? What if you hurt him just like how you hurt your family? He should be protected from someone like you.

You sent a short message to Sophie, letting her know that you were okay. Fighting the urge to text Art again, you put the phone face down on the coffee table, ignoring the part of your mind that craved his attention and soothing words. You knew he would know what to say; he would tell you what you wanted to hear. But it was not his responsibility to give you that.

You were still in yesterday's clothes, and the faint smell of sweat was embedded in the soft fabric. Too paralyzed and tired to change, you fell asleep on the couch and woke up a few hours later. The sun had gone down, and the streetlights had gone up, casting its yellowish glow into the darkened apartment. You sat up, your movement slow and sluggish as a splitting headache started to pound in your head. There was an imprint of the cushion on one side of your heated cheek as you wiped the drool off. You reached for your phone, your eyes squinted at the artificial glow and noticed that there was another text from Art.

I'm worried about you. Can you call me?

Ignoring his text again, you returned the phone to the table and diverted your attention to the DVD collection that Ashley owned. After putting on a random movie, you sourced for some snacks, and ended up stuffing your face with chips until your throat parched. The barely processed chips left your body not too long after the movie was over. You hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving into it as your insides twisted and worked itself into a complicated knot. Your body ran hot, yet you couldn't help but shiver. Your body was leaden with fatigue, and all you wanted to do was to indulge in the comfort of your bed. After rinsing your mouth, you dragged your feet to your room and fell into your bed, your body exhausted from the effort.

/

The morning came, and you didn't feel much better. Repulsed by your own smell, you took a quick shower. Droplets of water drenched the back of your cotton shirt as you cleaned the mess from last night. The table was wiped down, the crumbs were swept up, and the dirty dishes were placed in the sink for later. You layered a sweatshirt over what you had on and headed out with the trash bag. After discarding it in the dumpster behind the building, you made your way to the park nearby. Walking along the lake's edge, you shuddered as a cold breeze whispered on your exposed skin. You crossed your arms, snuggling deeper into yourself. The winter here was nothing compared to the one in your hometown. Back home, the cold was biting and cruel, always hungry for any vulnerability. Had it always been that way? Or was it morphed and changed into something you could easily recognize? Your relationship with your parents was bleak and apathetic. It had modified your perception of home with a certain cynicism that was hard to let go of. You were grateful for the warmer weather here. It was a welcoming start.

You found a bench, brushed the fallen leaves off of the cold iron and sat down. The park's vacancy made you feel small and insignificant, yet, at the same time, safe and at peace. Right here, right now, you were no one, and your actions didn't have consequences. You could dwell on the simple act of existing, doing nothing, and that would be fine. You could pretend that in this little pocket of space and time, the outside world ceased to exist. In this undisturbed chasm, you were not suspended in your own mental struggle. You were not the source of your parents' distress. You didn't have to worry about how you were perceived by others, and whatever label they might want to imprint on you didn't matter. You felt a familiar prick in your nose again, and you sniffed hard, hopefully, to stave off the feeling.

Hunger curled in your stomach, reminding you that you hadn't eaten. It was 2:30 PM. You left the park shortly after and stopped by a convenience store. You walked home with a cold-cut sandwich and a soft drink, figuring groceries could wait until tomorrow.

From the gate, you could see a silhouette at the door to your building. The familiar blue scarf hung loosely around the arched neck that you had silently admired on multiple occasions. The dishevelled blond head was bowed, shielding their face from your eyes, but you didn't need a closer look to know. The gate rattled softly, and he perked up. You locked eyes, and your heart seized in your chest. Your name sounded like the sweetest note in his voice. Art stood up and crossed the distance between the gate and the door in a few strikes. You felt the pull as well, but there was a hesitation that slowed your steps. But that didn't stop Art from reaching you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, pressing his body to yours. Your arms hung limply to the sides. His mouth was right next to your ear when he spoke, and you felt his worries deep in the marrow of your bones.

"I've been calling and you haven't answered. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?"

You inhaled deeply, and your senses were filled with Art. The softness of his coat, the solid frame of his body, the warm scent of his skin. You closed your eyes, revelled in his presence, relieved in the comfort you had so desperately needed. There was so much you wanted to say, but they failed to rise above your bewilderment.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Vermont?"

Art pressed you further into himself.

"Yes, but I don't care about that right now. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

At that, he pulled away but still kept you within reach. An incredulous, almost accusatory look was evident as he explained.

"You didn't answer my texts, or calls, or voicemails. Made me think something bad happened to you."

You shook your head vehemently.

"No, nothing happened. I'm sorry that I made you come all this way, but I'm fine."

You tried to step out of his embrace, but his hold on you was unwavering. You braved a smile, your hand patted reassuringly on his forearm.

"You shouldn't be here. You should go back to Vermont and enjoy your vacation with your family."

Art stared at you, and you felt exposed under his gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing. The need to fill in the silence was too much, but you fought against it.

"Did you know that you're not good at lying?"

His voice was low yet piercing. His words mirrored your sister's from a few days before. Your brows furrowed, your eyes strained to keep the tears at bay.

"That's so weird. My sister said the same thing."

Your voice wavered, and your attempt at a smile faltered. Before you could give in, you forced yourself out of Art's hold and beckoned him to follow you.

"Let's go inside."

/

You locked the door behind you while Art looked around the apartment from the entryway, shrugging off his coat and scarf and leaving them on top of his carry-on. You felt relieved that you cleaned the place a little before you left. Art's eyes followed you, and you pretended that you didn't notice that as you put the bag of food on the counter.

"Do you want anything? Water? Food?"

Art followed you to the kitchen.

"No, I don't want anything. I want to know what happened, and why you're here."

You busied yourself with unpacking the small bag. Art came and stood by you so close that you could feel his warmth.

"Come on. Talk to me."

"It's … complicated."

"Then start slowly. From the beginning. Or give me a summary. Anything."

Only then did you turn to look at him.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me because I care about you. I like you."

His admission was like honey to your tea, making your unjust indignation resolve rapidly. You softened your tone.

"I … I like you, too. That's more of a reason why I shouldn't tell you."

"That's bullshit. If you really liked me, you wouldn't shut me out like this. It's unfair."

"It's not up to you to decide–"

He cut you off, making you swallow the rest of everything that you wanted to say.

"After all this time we've spent together, I feel like you're still hiding yourself from me. Every time I ask about your family, you always turn the question back to me."

Art held both of your hands in his, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"You listened to me when I wanted to vent about my parents. You even came to my match even though you had class. Let me take care of you like you've done with me."

"I had no idea that you felt that way. But … I can't."

You looked away from him, your head dipped to look at the floor, but his gentle grip on your chin made you confront him.

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

"Why not?"

"Because … because …"

The more Art pushed, the less certain you became of your self-perception. Everything your parents had said about you came rushing back, and your mind obeyed their command as if you were still under their authority.

"I'm an ungrateful, awful person who's selfish. I will hurt you."

A faithful verbatim of what you were told. Art's face was a mix of everything, but what stood out the most was a contained anger. For your sake, you supposed.

"Did your parents say that to you?"

You nodded.

"They're wrong."

"And what do you know about me? I think my parents know me much, much better than you do."

"I might not know you the way your parents do, but they don't know you the way I do either."

You exhaled hard, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Deep down, you wanted to believe Art, wanted to believe that there was still at least one good thing about you. Here he was, imploring you to confide in him. And you stopped holding back. The tears came quickly, and steadily. They were hot on your cheeks, but they couldn't compare to the warmth that he enveloped you with. He pulled you into himself, his back bent to be closer to you. You rose on your tiptoes to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Art ran a hand along your spine and woven it into your hair, holding your head where it lay, while the other wound around your waist, anchoring you to him. Even when the sobs reverberated through your frame, he absorbed them, his hold steadfast and strong.

/

After you had calmed down, Art led you to the couch. You told him about what happened. Art listened, not once interrupted you. It was one more person who knew about what you went through, but it was Art. Despite the exposure and sheer vulnerability that you had subjected yourself to, you had never felt safer.

Your eyes drooped, and it started to get harder to disguise your yawn. ARt beckoned you to put your head on his lap, and you didn't fight against it. His hand caressed your hair, drawing all the tension and easing you into a state of repose. You tried to keep your eyes open, so you asked him a question.

"Have you ever felt like … you were an inconvenience to your family?"

His hand slowed on your hair, but it didn't stop. It took him a moment to answer.

"All the time."

Your hand on his knee squeezed, expressing your sympathy.

"Sometimes, I think my parents put me into Mark Rebellato just to get rid of me."

You nuzzled your face against his thigh; the denim felt rough in the right way on your skin.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you are."

You ended up falling asleep to the feeling of his gentle caress on your hair. Later on, when you were in a different state of consciousness, Art's lap was replaced by a pillow. You faintly heard the sound of dishes running in the kitchen. It was the last thing your head processed before you were pulled back into darkness.

You woke up a while later to the dead silence of the apartment. There was no sound of him. Almost immediately, you were filled with regret and anger for oversharing, for being so carelessly vulnerable to Art, who didn't deserve this burden. You dragged yourself into the kitchen for some water and found that the dishes were cleaned and put away. You felt powerless to a wave of emotions that started to build, and you bit on the insides of your mouth in an attempt to control it. The door to the apartment unlocked, startling you, and Art came through with a bag in hand.

"You're awake."

"You're … back."

You regarded him, your eyes widened in disbelief. He walked around to get to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter.

"You seem surprised."

Art spared you a look of amusement.

"I thought I sent you running already."

He closed the distance between you and pulled you to him. Art kissed your temple, then placed his chin on your head.

"It'll take much more than that for me to run away."

He let you go, and returned to the bag he brought in with him.

"I bought us some food. I figured you needed something other than that sandwich."

He pointed to the sad plastic box that was still on the counter.

"To be fair, I was planning on doing groceries tomorrow. So, if you could hit the pause on the judgement …"

Every day after that, until school started, you were never apart for too long. Art essentially lived with you and kept you company throughout what would be a lonely week. He showed you his dorm room, which was a neat and clean single. Each day seemed to be better than the last, and it didn't slow down. Life felt like it was yours again. There was a sweet naivety that you possessed, that things could last like this forever as long as you cared for it with all of your heart. But your innocence was the hard-earned lesson that would come back to wreck you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[arthursfuckinghat]

The worst part about playing rdr2 again is knowing who's going to die, how they're going to die, when they're going to die, and not be able to do a single thing about it

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

not me curling my laptop charger wire the way you curl band equipment cords HAHAHA god i miss it

[dawntheduckrb]

I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)

I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏

[arklay]

WIP DAY.

tagged by @girlbosselrond @morvaris @aartyom @risingsh0t @phillipsgraves @leviiackrman @indorilnerevarine & @denerims over the past month! sorry it's taken me so long to get to anything at all, i'm sure you guys have heard me address it enough, but thank you all so much for continuing to tag me in things while i've been inactive ♡

tagging @aelyosos @brujah @calenhads @florbelles @jendoe @lightwardens @liurnia @nokstella @nuclearstorms @shadowsofrose @shellibisshe @steelport @swordcoasts @wrymbloods @voerman & all of those who tagged me again cause i'm so behind + anyone else who'd like to share anything they're working on, not just writing! ♡

i haven't written anything since the last wip game i did, but i started trying to put diana's timeline together at the start of january, so i mean... i'll show that instead. as you can see, fatigue hasn't let me do much with it even though i've got all of her timeline already done and strewn about all over the place.

started with 1995 onwards cause it was originally going to be an ewskers timeline situation, but then wanted to include all of her backstory so i went back to the start and still have the late 80s and early 90s to get through before then, but yeah :]

it's going to include like all little moments i've thought of between the ewskers just for me and placing them on the timeline, so you can imagine how long this is going to get if i have to go to 2021 for village... like just 1996-1998 is going to be so much... she's very special to me if you couldn't tell already lmaoo

never sharing this though, it's just for me, and like will help for when i do her timeline page (more in-depth version of what's on her oc page) to just run through canon events and brief descriptions and whatnot. you understand.

everything is blurred out besides 1995 ewskers momence and the years, just cause like idk her i feel weird sharing her in-depth backstory unless it's in dms or something, just cause there's lots going on there and yeah. things. idk

i also made a carrd for twt if you wanna have a look at that :] there's some cheeky subtle things with the two resi items i used as pics hehe

actually, you know what, i'll give a lil bit from where i left of with that rewrite anyways, even though it's been months since i wrote it. but why not

Wesker left a fleeting kiss behind her ear then reached around her and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more. He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it. He had quite the knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

[sundere1181]

Blood and Bones- Whispers of a Spirit oneshot

This is a oneshot for my ghost april au fic, Whispers of a Spirit, and if you haven't read that you might be a wee bit confused, so I recommend reading chapter 1 of that first. ( Whispers of a Spirit - Chapter 1 - Sundere - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own] )

Warning: This oneshot is pretty dark, so tw for implied death (twice) not super graphic, implied death by gunshot and implied death by hanging. Also descriptions of blood. And one of the people who dies is a five year old girl, so. It's also really sad.

This was inspired by the songs Funeral Bell (PHILDEL) Curses (Crane Wives) and Spirit (Amarante) (YES i did take lyrics directly from that last song im lazy)

(This is a dream sequence from the pov of donnie and then a little convo with him and ghost april irl)

Donnie was standing in a forest.

He's dreaming, he thinks. There's no forest in the New York sewers.

It's dark, but his eyes start to adjust more as he walks around, trying to figure out where he was. 

It was chilly, and he shivered in the breeze, stepping into an open clearing. It was brighter here, a full moon shining through the gap in the trees.

He stopped walking when he heard leaves crunching, and saw two black girls wearing 17th-century-style running frantically out of the woods.

One of them looked around his age, and he felt like he recognized her vaguely. She was leading the other by the hand, who was about 5 or 6 years old.

The older girl looked haggard, her hair was loose around her shoulders and tangled, and she had dirt smudged on her cheeks and her dress, as well as scratches on her arms. 

The little one wailed and tugged on the older one's hand, making her turn around and make desperate shushing noises, looking around fearfully while holding the little one's shoulders.

"Hey, baby, it's okay! What's wrong?"

The little one sniffed. 

"I'm tired, April. Why are we runnin'?"

Donnie stiffened. April. But this isn't the April he knows.

Is it?

"I know you're tired, honey. We have to keep running. They're after both of us."

The little girl sniffed. "I wanna go home. Wheres Ma and Pa?"

April looked like she was trying not to cry as she stroked her cheek, voice wobbling as she reassured the girl. Maybe her little sister? "They're gone, baby. They went to visit Firash. It's just us now."

The little girl looked up, her eyes sparkling. "They went to find Bro?"

April nodded, lips tight as if she said anything else she'd break down.

"WITCH!!! FREEZE!!" A voice bellowed out from the woods.

April sprung up, grabbing the hand of the little girl again and starting to run.

A loud gunshot echoed through the trees and Donnie flinched and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the gruesome scene.

There was silence for a few seconds before the most agonizing, heartbroken scream Donnie has ever heard in his life rings out.

The sound fades, and the next time he opens his eyes, he's in a different place, a small town next to the woods.

There's a cheering crowd behind him and in front of him...

Gallows.

He watched in horror as a man dressed in all black led a handcuffed April up the stairs and onto the platform. She had a blank look on her face and her beautiful dark brown dress had a bright red splatter of blood on the torso, right where her little sister's head would've reached if they were both standing.

"Any last words?" The executioner asked in a gruff voice as he placed the noose.

April took a deep breath and her expression melted from blankness to pure rage.

"This is for Estellina."

She started chanting in a melodic voice;

"Here, in the great forest, there are traces of the old

Melodies of the past that we have buried in our souls

Deep in the dark unknown, there's a place we call our home

The past in our bones

The path will be shown."

She repeated it, over and over again, sometimes in English, sometimes in Afrikaans, and sometimes in a language he couldn't recognize at all. It didn't even sound like a language that could be spoken by humans. Everytime she said it, her voice got louder and louder.

The crowd and the executioner stood still, confused, until houses started erupting in bright green fire, roaring flames licking the sky.

People started screaming, running around in a panic, and the executioner bumped the lever on the gallows as he ran off.

Donnie heard a crunch and-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Donnie bolted up in bed, heart racing as his brain tried to comprehend the nightmare he just had.

Blood. Fire. Bones. Screams.

April-the April he knows, his best friend- peeks around the doorway at him, concern etched into her transparent features.

"Donnie? You okay?" She asked, floating into the room. 

"April; Oh my god, April, I'm so sorry."

"What?" She asked, concern switching to confusion. 

He got up shakily and reached for her, but pulled his hand back when he remembered she wasn't solid. 

"Your- your sister. I saw it."

April's face dropped. Donnie didn't miss the badly disguised hope in her eyes.

"Estellina? You saw her?"

"I saw... I saw her death.

April frowned, the hope in her eyes melting away.

She floated off and Donnie decided to give her a minute.

He walked over and sat at his desk, turning on a lamp and powering up the computer.

He started typing. 

'Witch hunting 1750'

[bioshcked]

plot call for durs, i've reached out to a few people already but i'm still hunting & gathering. he's 28 and based in la if that helps!!

[michaelganaha]

I got screened for a cancer and found a plethora of health issues that have taken up essentially all my time outside of my current commissions.

I'm real sorry the GTA and new SR art has been delayed this long, but it is for a good cause! I am applying for surgery and more scans to assess treatment options to recover my health as soon as possible!

It has been very scary, but I wish to heal and return to art very soon so I am not giving up! But I do need a little bit more time before I set up some fun stuff.

[borderlinereminders]

If you’re someone who needs reassurance from loved ones that they love you, that’s really valid. But the way you ask for it matters. Hinting at it with comments like “nobody loves me” can actually be hurtful to your loved ones. It’s also a good idea to try and reassure yourself first!

The truth is that for a lot of people, giving reassurance constantly is exhausting. It can lead to issues in a relationship over time, and negative feelings on both sides because they may end up avoiding the other person. This is especially true if someone doesn't ask for reassurance directly but hints at it with things like "No one cares about me."

My advice is if you are finding yourself struggling is to first try and self soothe either with skills or things that have helped in the past. Here is my post on self-soothing ideas! And if that doesn’t work, then ask for it in a healthy way.

Some other examples.

Keep screenshots, letters, cards etc that affirm you are cared about by your loved ones. You can even ask someone to give you a recording of them saying it that you can listen to. Bonus: Keep these things in a self-care box that you can use in times of crisis and pull out that has other things in like affirmation cards, favourite treats, self care items, etc.

Examine the evidence. By this I mean try and keep a list of things they've done to show they care about you. For example, I have a list of things my partner has done for me besides saying "I love you" of both big things and little things that I can read when my brain decides to be rude to me and make me doubt he cares.

If the other person has done something specifically to make you feel they don't care, it's important to step back and look at the situation and check the facts. There's a difference between someone lying to you or doing something intentional and someone not replying to you because they got busy. Here’s my post on checking the facts!

Here’s a post on Challenging Irrational Thoughts!

ACCEPTS is a really good skill for distractions! Here's a post on it.

TIPP is a good skill if you are needing to calm down in immediate crisis. Here's a post on it.

If you're having urges to accuse your loved one of not caring, consider Urge Surfing (here's a post on it) and then using a skill or plan that helps you.

If you aren't able to self-soothe that's so valid! It really is. I recommend trying it because sometimes you will be able to. But then sometimes you won't be able to and that's okay. In this case, if you need to get it from someone, ask directly for it instead of doing it in a guilting/passive aggressive/hinting way. You might say "Hey. I know you care about me, but my brain is being rude. Can you please give me some reassurance?" instead of "Sorry I'm such a bad friend/person/burden/etc".

It might also be worth having a conversation when calm with the other person to establish some boundaries and ideas for communication.

For example, if your friend regularly feels drained by you asking for reassurance, they could set boundaries on how often they're okay for you to ask for it.

You both might decide that they will try and message you randomly to offer reassurance because it can mean a lot when that happens.

This might be where they send you messages/recordings/etc that you can read in times of need.

If the friend is doing something specifically, even unintentionally, that makes you question things then it's really valid to have a discussion about it! I recommend using some I-Statements or other communicative skills to talk about it. Even if they aren't doing something wrong, it's still valid to talk about your feelings and see if you can come up with a solution. For example, maybe it's really hard on you that they disappear randomly for a couple days when their energy levels plummet. And this causes you to spiral and think they're ghosting you or etc. In this situation, maybe you and your friend come up with a solution where you establish a single emoji (specific for this purpose) that the friend can send with low energy that says "Hey. It's not you but I'm feeling drained and need to not reply for a bit."

[twinksrepository]

Post training workout

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Sylus X F!Reader

CW: Smut, smut with Feelings, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Pain, Foot Massage, Drinking, flirting, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Condoms, Biting, Clothed Sex, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Big dick, Begging, Rough Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Finger Sucking, Overstimulation, Aftercare

Word count: Roughly 7K

A/N: Sylus keeps saying you need to get better at dodging, and you take him up on his offer for some training. Afterwards, he has a bit of a different workout in mind for you.

I am down bad for this man, and after seeing that workout quality time well this settled in my brain. I'd say I'm sorry, but I am anything but.

Prefer AO3? You can read it here.

You let out a squawk as you find yourself on your back once more looking up at the black ceiling while your chest heaves and the sweat drips down along your neck. “If you think you’re impressing me, Sweetie you’re doing a poor job of it.” You bite your tongue to keep yourself from retorting verbally at him. You’ve lost track of how many times in the last hour Sylus has knocked you on your ass, all under the pretense of training. 

The slightest pressure of his foot against yours as he makes a tapping motion against the inside portion of your sneaker. “Back up on your feet, it’s not break time yet.” 

You let out a noise of frustration instead of moving, still staring at the ceiling as you try to slow your breathing and catch your breath. “I thought you said you’d help me train, Sylus? This is just you sending me to the floor.” 

“It is training.” The blackness in your field of view was replaced by a rather attractive face with a sharp jawline and two garnet eyes staring down at you, the corner of his mouth turned upward just enough to be called a playful smirk. “At this point, I’m not sure how you’ve managed to evade being skewed by wanderers Miss Hunter.” His voice teases as he looks down at you, yet the longer you remain on your back that smirk fades into a look of neutrality. “Get up Sweetie.” There’s no doubting the annoyance in those three short words. 

You grumble as his face disappears from overhead but you roll over onto your side in order to get your feet under you before standing. A few rotations of your shoulders and hops in place to try and loosen the bruised muscles along your body. A distraction from the pain racing along your butt and lower back.

“Really?” A single eyebrow raised as he watched you before giving a chuckle, brushing his damp hair away from his eyes. It doesn’t matter how sore you feel, or how fast your heart has been racing, yet that one motion has the tempo increasing. The muscles of your face widened into a grin that you’re sure if you had a mirror you’d see a smile akin to those on the female lead in romance movies when she thinks the heartthrob isn’t looking. “Keep smiling like that Sweetie and you’ll be back where you were in no time.” Too bad this isn’t a movie and Sylus never seems to miss anything. 

“I still don’t see how this is training.” Your smile fades as you quirk your nose, sliding your right foot out to take the proper stance with your weight forward and lifting both of your arms so your wrapped fists are in front of you. Just like he had taught you a while back when you had been throwing what you thought were proper punches at the bag hanging in his personal gym. 

“Simple. You’re terrible at dodging Sweetie, this is meant to help you get better.” 

“You keep knocking me on my ass!” Dropping your hands and losing your pose as you stomp your foot at him. It sounds more like he’s been enjoying seeing you sprawled out on the floor. 

“You’re just proving my point.” The moment your guard dropped he sprung, a quick jab to get you to move. At least you could read the flow of his arm to see it’s a feint, shifting your weight and throwing your arms up as you sidestep the sweep of his leg. “Ah, the kitten can learn.” Stepping back with his hands in front of himself before he throws another punch, one you block well aware he’s holding back even as the sting from the impact races down your arm. “I was starting to wonder if that first bit of light sparring when you got me to take a knee was an accident.” 

“You’re so funny.” Watching his movements as you remain on the defensive, taking the openings he leaves you aware he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security. A soft hum of approval as you keep moving, the sweat running down your neck as the bottom of your tied back hair bounces between your shoulders. Your breathing grows more ragged the longer you keep up the momentum of blocking and dodging. 

“Just pretend I’m a wanderer as your breathing gets heavier, they won’t let up unlike me.” Smirking as he switches tactics, throwing faster punches. It’s hard to focus when you can see the fine sheen of sweat on his skin fly off as he moves. Precise and quick. 

“You know how to let up?” Panting the words as you twist out of the way of another attempt on his part to put you on your back. Grinning as you jab with your right watching those crimson eyes of his on your hand, this time you’re going to put him on his back! A swift surge forward of your left leg to the inside of his to try and hook his inner calf to put him off balance. 

Except he clearly saw through your bluff, turning to the side and grabbing your fist in his hand, making use of your moment to let you swing yourself around so your back is pressed against his chest. “I may be merciless, but I stand by my morals of not taking advantage of the weak.” Your shirt is plastered to your back from the liquid pouring from you because of the workout, yet you can feel the fluid trapped in his black tank top seeping into the dry portions. “A kitten needs to play fight in order to learn how to use its claws after all.” 

Something in his voice makes you shiver, or it could be the way his breath washes down over the cartilage and cooling the area. As much as you like to banter with him you realize during this entire workout he’s just been playing with you. “You mean I’m covered in bruises for nothing!?” 

“Of course not.” Chuckling again Sylus doesn’t let go of your hand, instead dropping his chin atop your head. “You keep reminding me how I can’t go on missions with you when you’re working, if I can’t keep you safe I need to make sure you get better at looking after yourself, Sweetie.” 

His words have your slowing heart speeding up again, your stomach clenching in response to the bluntness of it. A reminder that as much as the words he does speak never say it, he does care for you and you’re starting to realize it isn’t just a passing fancy of his. That his feelings run a lot more than skin deep. Parting your lips as you get ready to retort, only for an alarm to start to beep from outside the padded area. 

“Times up.” Releasing you at last, you turn to watch his stride towards the device to cease the noise. “You showed some improvements, but you could always do with more training.” Smirking in your direction before his eyes rake over your form. “Now go have a shower.” Tossing a towel from the bench at you that obscures your vision as it unfolds and lands on your head. 

“Sylus!” Only to find him gone as you pull the fabric away, huffing as you leave the gym towards the room that serves as yours within his home. “Here’s hoping the hot water helps with my muscles, I’m already starting to hurt.” 

As you hobbled your way into the living room, the hot water from your shower hadn’t done anything to help with the tightening of your muscles. If you hurt like this now, you’re not looking forward to what you’re going to wake up to tomorrow. It didn’t help your mood that you could already see the distinct changing of the skin along your butt to signal you had bruises. 

Dropping onto the couch with a soft noise of discomfort, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. Letting your head fall back against the plush fabric, Sylus has good taste and thankfully he finds a certain level of comfort just as important as style. 

Hearing the door open you crack an eye open, watching as the man himself strides in with a wine glass in hand taking a sip of the deep maroon liquid. “You look tired Sweetie.” He starts his teasing right away, joining you on the couch close enough to place a hand on your thigh. Even though his touch is light it still elicits another soft noise of pain from your throat and you can’t keep the wince off your face. “I’m surprised, I thought you’d be in better shape.” 

As much as his eyes have a hint of concern, nothing else about his demeanor indicates he’s worried. “I’m just not used to using my muscles like that.” It’s the truth, swinging a sword, shooting a pistol. None of those have you using your body the way you had today and you’re starting to realize that was what he had been getting at with his training. Even if you had been on your back a lot more than you had wanted. 

“The hunter academy should have more hand to hand combat training then. If someone like you is in such rough shape after a simple workout like that Miss Hunter.” Rolling your eyes as Sylus places his glass down on the stand beside him. Letting out a squeal as you feel the coldness you’ve come to associate with his evol wrap around you, on your back once more except this time your legs are resting against his lap. “Don’t come to expect this sort of treatment in the future.” 

You don’t get a chance to question him, your neck arching with the crown of your head hitting the armrest. His fingers dug into a knot you weren’t aware of at the back of your right calf, a dampness forming on your lashes as he kept working the area before the lines of lightning stop racing up your leg. “Wow.” It’s like your brain short circuits as the pain is replaced by relief, those long digits of his moving along the skin of your calf with gentle pressure now. 

“That all you have to say?” Shaking his head a little at your answer but his hands don’t stop moving, the heat from his palms sinking into the muscles and you start to relax more in his hold. 

“I wasn’t expecting a massage.” 

“All our time together and you still seem surprised when I do something nice for you.” Pausing just long enough to take a sip of his drink before he glides his hand along your lower leg. “You wound me, Sweetie.” You wince as he places a bit more pressure than necessary, biting your lip, except it isn’t from the pain. No, it’s to keep yourself from letting out a noise that borders on obscene when your core clenches in response. 

Flicking your eyes to his face, hoping he didn’t notice. 

No such luck as he smirks like the cat that got the canary. Or. A more accurate analogy, the crow that got the shiny object it had been eyeing. 

“If you didn’t drag me into trouble so much ah~” You can’t hide your noise this time, even if it had been pointless. Arching your back away from the cushion under you as his hand moves higher along your leg, you aren’t sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that you wore a skirt. 

“Trouble she says, are you saying I drag you into trouble when we have our little dates at the arcade?” Humming as the tips of his fingers brush the area just inside your knee, alternating pressure as he slides his hand along the area slowly moving higher. 

You don’t have a retort, instead, you watch his face with your eyes narrowed. Curious if he’ll tease you more or just keep moving his hand a little higher closer to where you want him to be. 

“I know what you want Sweetie, are you sure?” Smirking as he trails his hands down, back closer to your foot. “You are feeling rather tense, I wouldn’t want to make you sorer than you already are.” A slight pinch to the skin above your ankle that has you making another soft noise, trying to tug your feet away from his hand. 

“I can handle a lot more than you think.” The words are out of your mouth before you can ponder any kind of consequence. 

That rich melodious laughter of his rings out in the room, his upper body shaking and his grip on your leg grows tighter. A single corner of his lips upturned as those crimson eyes seemed to flash. “That almost sounds like a challenge, Miss Hunter.” Reaching for his wine glass and finishing the remaining liquid, and you’re squealing again as you find yourself airborne for a moment. A firm shoulder under your side and the view of a nice butt and you jolt up and down. 

“Sylus!” Flailing a little as he starts to stride out of the room and down the hallway towards his bedroom. “What are you doing!? Put me down!” 

“Unless you’ve grown more voyeuristic, as to what I’m doing I thought that would be obvious.” His long legs easily take him down the short distance of the hallway and you flush as the implication of his words sink in. The twins were around earlier, and you definitely don’t want them walking in on the two of you. 

Tossed on his bed like you're a sac of some kind, you bounce on the fabric of the bedspread scrambling to right yourself. Except one of those large hands of his reaches out and wraps around your ankle, dragging you to the edge. “Sylus!” Your voice is an odd mixture of giddy and admonishing as the thick comforter bunches under you around your butt and back as you reach the edge. 

There’s a hint of mischief on his face, holding your leg straight up in the air parallel to your body. Letting out a small chuckle with your foot close to his face, the long digits of his other hand work the fastener on your shoe to loosen it enough to drop it to the floor. “Yes, Sweetie?” Smirking as those same fingers glide down your calf, this time a trail of goosebumps rising along the skin in the wake of his touch. 

“I…” Trailing off when his lips ghost along the soft skin of your ankle, causing you to gasp, a reaction that has him grinning from the feeling of his lips against your skin shifting. “I don’t like when you just toss me around.” You sound like a petulant child, not exactly what you want at the moment but you are annoyed at the way Sylus has been tossing you around today. 

“I’ll try and keep that in mind for next time.” Sliding your leg so it’s against his shoulder he repeats the process of grabbing the other one to repeat the action of removing your shoe. Taking his time as those sharp eyes of his watch you as if he can see every minuscule movement as you react to him.

“Next time?” You’re trying to slow your heart rate, shuffling a small amount to try and get the excess fabric under you into a more comfortable position. 

“You could use more training, I like to think I’m a decent workout partner.” Smirking down at you well aware that wasn’t what you had meant and you call him out on it, saying those exact words. “What I plan on doing to you could be considered a workout.” Raising an eyebrow before tilting his head and nipping at your skin. His voice is a little deeper and your body responds in kind, your stomach clenching as you feel a warmth starting to form in your core. 

“And what are you planning on doing to me?” Biting your bottom lip as you try and reach out to touch him, but he’s just out of reach. 

“I have some thoughts.” Seeing your attempts to reach him, he trails one of his palms down along your legs before closing the distance to let you intertwine your smaller hand with his. “Though I have several options.” Rubbing his thumb along the edge of your finger. “Like if I should take you like this, with your legs up in the air while I buck into your soft warm core. Giving your legs a chance to recover from earlier.” 

He says it so nonchalantly like he’s talking about what to have for dinner instead of how he’s going to fuck you. 

“Or.” Letting his voice trail off before leaning forward so your legs are pressed a little against your belly and wedged against his upper body. “Maybe I should take you on your back, with my arms caging your head in while I ram you into the mattress, my entire body weight sinking into you.” A soft noise echoes around the room, and you realize it came from you when your core gave a throb. A dampness starts to form inside your walls at the thought of him pounding you into the mattress. 

“The one I’m really starting to like though, is me relaxing while you ride me.” Chuckling now as he guides your joined hands to his mouth and trails his lips along your knuckles. “Since you can handle a lot more than I think.” 

That has you hot and bothered as your stomach clenches again and your skin blazes with heat, hearing your own words from earlier thrown back in your face. All three options are something you want. The tip of your tongue poking out to moisten your lips as your eyes connect, a hint of a glow in his right eye and you feel your heart starting to race in response. It feels like he’s waiting for you to say something in regards to which option you might want. 

“I don’t have to work tomorrow. What if we did all three?” Your voice is tentative as you ask the question like you’re unsure of the answer.

“Oh Kitten.” Laughing he pushes your feet away from his shoulders so your legs drop down to his sides almost as if framing him between them, letting his weight press you down as he leans so your chests are aligned. A brush of those pink lips that so rarely uptick into a smile along your own. “I think now you’re being a little greedy, you can’t handle all of that.” Another game of teasing, both verbal and physical as the position has his crotch lined up with yours and he’s using it to his advantage as he softly grinds against you. 

Your eyes start to blink rapidly as your brain short circuits, a soft moan rising out of your throat as the action has you feeling more like you're floating in a haze. Shivering from the wash of his breath against your face, an odd sensation as the heat from his arms beside your head warms the air around you. Finding some semblance of thought, you trail your hands along the sleeves of his sweater to his broad shoulders before the tips of your fingers find the skin of his neck. It’s like blaze lighting along the fingertips, his skin warm though you can’t tell if it’s because you're distracted by his lips that he’s keeping just out of reach or just how hot he runs. 

Lifting your head to try and make the connection yourself, your efforts just earn you a chuckle from him as he tilts his face to the side so your lips brush against his cheek. “I need an answer Sweetie.” 

You’re a little frustrated, sliding your hands higher so you can toy with the grey hairs along his neck. Huffing as you think about where the conversation has gone, if he is leaving it up to you, you have an idea which one you want. “Like this.” Your voice sounds unsteady as it rings out in the room, more like you’ve asked a question instead of giving him an answer. 

He lets out a hum, allowing more of his body weight to press you down into the mattress as he lowers his head so it’s beside yours instead of above it. “Like this?” A deep rasp right next to your ear, the point of his nose ghosting along the top of the shell. “It would be an interesting angle.” A roll of his hips and you can’t deny the firmness rubbing along your sex through several layers of clothing. The damp fabric of your panties clinging to your skin as he moves adding to a delicious friction you hadn’t been expecting as the cloth rubs against your clit. “I could buck into you as hard and deep as I want.” Dragging his teeth along the skin of your neck before soothing the area with his tongue. “You’d have little control, are you sure you want that Miss Hunter?” A slight dig with his teasing about your preference to remain autonomous in your life.

A hitch in your breath as you slide your hands upward, through the longer locks of his hair giving them a little tug that makes Sylus hiss through his teeth. He’s not the only one who can tease, even if you have to be careful. Not because you’re worried you might hurt him. No, because anything you dish out to the leader of Onychinus he is happy to return with interest. “I trust you.” The words are far more confident as you rake your nails along his skull, gasping as he snaps his hips far rougher this time jolting both you and the mattress under you. 

“Not the answer I was expecting.” Raising his head so he can look down at you once more with a smirk gracing his features, at least before it softens somewhat as he stares at you. If you had to put a word to it you’d say it’s the closest thing Sylus has to a look of adoration with the curve of his eyes and the slight curl of his lips. Those same lips are just inches away from your own, close enough that every breath he takes washes against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. “I’ll have to make sure I try and restrain myself today then.” Whispered so his lips ghost over yours before he closes the final distance. If there was a way to describe the kiss it would have to be unhurried, a slow and methodical movement that makes you hum in pleasure. Sensual in a way as he dominates and controls every aspect of the connection before pulling back just enough to slide his tongue along your bottom lip. 

You know what he wants, parting your lips but you aren’t going to just go along with it. Flicking your tongue out to meet him and trying to halt him from plunging the muscle into your mouth. Your attempts to keep him engaged in a sloppy open mouth kiss has him groaning, the noise hiding the shifting of his arm. Too involved in the mess of saliva connecting the two of you to notice his hand trail down your side and across your hip as he pulls his body away just enough to form a space for his hand to slip under your skirt.

As two of his fingers sink into your core up to his knuckle you gasp, your back arching away from the mattress and full into his chest, any thought to keep up the dance of tongues gone and Sylus seems to relish the chance to sweep the wet muscle into your mouth. Coiling it around your own after swirling it along the inside of your cheeks, like he’s reacquainting himself with the space. A chuckle that shakes his chest as those two digits curl and expand inside your slick walls. 

Your hips jerk in response, your hands falling away from where they had been tangled in his hair as your brain tries to make sense of his assault on your senses. His fingers keep moving, stroking the ember that had slowly been building inside of you into a fire and coaxing more liquid from your pussy. Your mind can’t keep up so your body starts to respond, trying to lift your hips so his fingers are deeper inside of you. Chasing after them as best as you can, moaning in frustration as his mouth remains connected to yours, his tongue still sliding along yours in a dance that grows more and more desperate. With his body still as close as it is and those thick thighs of his between your legs, you can’t chase the sensation of forcing those digits deeper inside your slick channel. A rumble that might have been a groan deep in his chest, if he was anything else you might have thought it a purr of a predator of some kind. 

Except crows don’t purr. 

You’re starting to feel lightheaded when Sylus finally pulls away, the wet strands connecting the two of you thinning before breaking. Feeling the splatter of the liquid on your chin as your chest heaves, pressing harder against his as you try to suck in oxygen to ground yourself from the way his fingers are churning up your insides. 

Another noise from you that sounds like a cross between a squeak and a mewl when the tip of one of his fingers brushes against a bundle of nerves that makes your eyelids flutter. “So wet, Kitten.” Sylus is panting just as heavily as you are, though he has the full use of his senses unlike you allowing him to continue his onslaught. Kissing along the column of your throat and leaving a wake of damp skin behind. “I thought you might have a bit more control than that.” Still teasing you with his voice as he blows a cool breath along where he had been, another gasp from you as you shiver. Your fingers fisting the material of his bedspread under you, an involuntary response as you keep trying to find a way to ground yourself and gather your scattered thoughts. 

“Sylus~” It’s all you can manage, your body tensing up as his fingers keep working your dripping core, the amount of liquid gushing from you down past your folds and onto his fingers. 

Shushing you gently as his lips caress the skin near the hollow of your throat. “Just relax.” Adding a third finger to your walls, making you cry out and arching your body once more. Very much the opposite of relaxing. 

Your eyes are clenched shut, a sight that has Sylus grinning. Licking his lips at the way your face is pinched in pleasure and trying to fight off how close you are, the slight hint of perspiration dotting the edge of your hairline. The flush painting your cheekbones and the tip of your nose, all because of him and just his fingers. All those hours spent learning your body, the things you like, and the best way to get a response from you are well worth it as his chest swells with an emotion he thought himself incapable of. 

You’ll be the end of him. He doesn’t doubt it for a single moment. 

“Sylus!” Your voice takes on an edge he recognizes, one that means you’re almost at that precipice of tipping over. 

“Almost there Sweetie, you need at least one to loosen you up before you can take me.” It’s partially true. You can take him without an orgasm, but he prefers sinking into your tight core when you’re more than ready for him. A bit of patience so he can let loose when he stuffs you full of his cock. He’s never been one for quickies anyway, and you can’t walk straight after he fucks you regardless if you’ve had enough prep or not. 

Hearing his words you nod, your eyes still closed as you focus on the way those broad digits rub all the right places. The way he works them inside of you so he’s brushing against different places and making you see bursts of light behind your eyelids when he hits certain nerve clusters when he curls them just the right way. 

You keen as his hand twists and his fingers hook to stretch you out more, feeling his thumb start to press against your fabric covered clit. His fingers keeping the part of your underwear out of the way that would have covered most of your opening as he plunges them in and out of you. Your breathing ragged as you hover so close to that point of release. 

It isn’t his fingers that push you over. No. 

The arm he still has above your head shifts, still keeping part of his weight off of you but his fingers can grip your hair. Tugging on it just hard enough that your neck arches, and he plunges his tongue past your parted lips in time to his fingers. 

The assault of pleasure and pain has you screaming his name into his mouth as you cum around his fingers. Squeezing them as if you were trying to milk his cock with your walls before going boneless as your mind blanks from the force of your orgasm. 

Pulling away Sylus can’t help the swell of pride in his chest, taking in your bruised lips and blissed out expression. Raising an eyebrow as he stepped away, his gaze going over the mess of fluid that’d seeped from your core and soaked your underwear as well as his bedspread and the front of his pants that had been close to your cunt. A piece of information to tuck away for the next time he wanted to fuck you after a workout. He’s never made you squirt before and this was the closest he’d come. 

Keeping one eye on you as he opens a drawer to grab a packet, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stir starting to sit up. “Sylus?” A soft call of his name as if you’re dazed and looking for him. He finds it adorable, the way you turn your head seeking him out.

“I’m here Sweetie, just grabbing a condom.” As much as he’d enjoy making you squirm and flooding your core with his cum until it has nowhere else to go but drip from your folds and down your thighs, the two of you aren’t there yet. “You made quite a mess.” Smirking at the flush that covers your face at the sudden realization, laughing as he strides back towards you and the bed. 

You’re mortified as you cover your face with your hands feeling the heat from your cheeks in your palms, you can feel the slick from your release still dribbling out of you and down your thighs. “It’s your fault.” A crack in your voice as you say it that makes him grin, aware you can’t see it right now. 

“If that’s meant to deter me, you’re doing a bad job Sweetie. Telling me that mess is my fault is just going to make me want to do it again.” Closer to you once more he drops his head to lean his forehead against yours. “And again.” 

“You’re egotistical.” 

“If you say so.” A spark of mischief in his crimson gaze, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Now, are you sure about your choice? Last chance to change your mind.” You’re still going to get railed but you believe him about having the final say in how he’ll fuck you.

“Are you backing out now?” Aiming for a teasing tone as you go in for a kiss, one he doesn’t pull away from this time. Aware of your hands trailing down his chest to the hem of his grey sweater, your fingers hooking into it and tugging it upwards. Again, a motion he lets you carry through with until he has to lift his arms. Chuckling he leans back to let you slip the material over his head, not missing the way your eyes drop down to his chest and the visible swallow you make. 

“Never.” Tossing the clothes to the side, Sylus grasps one of your hands in his larger one. “Like what you see, Sweetie?” It doesn’t matter how many times you see Sylus naked, or partially naked, he’s well built and damn if he doesn’t know it. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.” A small breathy laugh of your own rings in the space, trailing the hand not clasped in his downward to his belt and working your way to the clasp at the front of it. Releasing your other hand and letting you work the buckle to free the leather of his belt before your hands tugged the metal teeth of his zipper down. Growing bolder and slipping a hand inside past the fabric of his underwear to grasp his hard length. Humming at the feel of his warm flesh sinking into your palm, pumping along his hard shaft awkwardly within the confines of his pants. 

Sylus lets you continue for a few moments, breathing through his teeth as your palm glides up and down his length. A squeeze here and there as you tease him, smearing the precum that beads at his slit along his shaft before he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls it away. “That’s enough teasing.” Turning your hand to kiss the back of it before nipping at the skin between your thumb and index finger, enjoying the short little gasp you make. 

As he drops your hand Sylus wastes no time pushing his pants and underwear down enough to free his aching cock, tearing the edge of the condom packet and sliding the latex down his shaft to his base. “Leave it on.” His eyes focused on you and how you had started to remove your clothes, one hand on your shoulder and pushing you back down on his bedspread. “After all, I didn’t say anything earlier about taking your clothes off.” 

Spreading your legs and slipping between them, two of his fingers pushing the fabric of your sodden panties aside and humming in appreciation at the sight of your slick sex. You’re still dripping from earlier, tapping the head of his dick against your clit, the whines you make like music to his ears. 

“Sylus!” Crying out as you feel frustrated that he’s still teasing you. 

“What’s the magic word?” Another few taps before sliding his shaft along the outside of your walls, smearing your juices along the latex covering his skin. He can feel the heat of your skin through the material, throwing out a reminder back to earlier in your relationship when you had told him to stop just demanding your time.

“Please Sylus!” You look so desperate, pleading for him, so different from the hunter that waltzed into the N109 zone trying to sell her soul while looking for answers. A look that he knows is only for him, and he enjoys giving in to those pleas when it suits him. Using his hand to guide the head of his cock to your pussy, feeling the tip breach your entrance before he snaps his hips as he splits you open with his length. 

Hissing through his teeth at the tightness of your walls as you make a noise like a scream that sounds something like this name. The fire in your belly bursts back to life after cooling from the break between your last orgasm and now. Sylus doesn’t hold back, not with the slickness inside of your cunt as he ruts into you with sure snaps of his hips. Every move has him slamming into you to the base of his cock before pulling out until the tip remains in your heat. A blistering pace that has your hands grabbing fistfuls of the bedspread between your fingers and clasping it tightly enough that the joints turn white. 

With your eyes narrowed from the pleasure flooding through your system you watch Sylus standing between your legs. The glint of light off the damp skin of his chest, and the way his abdomen clenches each time he sinks deep inside your pussy. Every thrust deep, your walls stretched to the limit around his girth hovering just before that edge of pain. All you can do is moan and mewl in response to him, feeling the inferno of desire and arousal growing steadily by the minute. 

It isn’t long as he pants how perfect you are, with his hands at your hips to keep you from sliding back on the bed while he drills into you. The dampness that had started on his skin is more like a thin layer of sweat now, tossing his head and some of the drops fall across your skin and across the fabric of your clothes. The sight makes you clamp harder around his shaft. Turned on by the flush growing along his cheekbones and his pectorals all from the effort of him bucking into you with the force of a wild animal while maintaining the same precise movements as when he was sparring with you earlier. 

A symphony of his name on your lips and Sylus tries to grin, but his breathing is growing more and more labored. Grabbing your legs and holding them against his chest, listening to the tempo of your breathing increase as the change has you tumbling over that edge as you squeeze him like a vice. He doesn’t let up, rutting into you through your orgasm, holding your ankles in one hand with both leaning against one of his shoulders allowing his other hand to toy with your clit. Pulling a second orgasm from you in short order, his thumb sliding the hood back to flick the bundle of nerves directly. 

Tears form on your lashes as your back arches, letting go of the fabric of the bedspread to wrap both of your hands around his wrist to try and stop the onslaught on your core. It’s too much, but you can’t find the words as your fingers scramble to try and push his way. 

“Just a little more.” It’s more of a grunt, the ease that he normally speaks lost to his exertion, each word broken by a pant. “You can handle that, can’t you?” 

The fluid from your tears is running down the sides of your face now, you aren’t sure you can and Sylus takes note of the almost warring expression you’re sporting. There’s a bubbling in his gut accompanying the tightening of his balls, your sweet cunt milking him has him almost to the goal line. Changing the angle of his upper body so your legs are pointing back towards your body, your ass in the air with his balls slapping against the skin as he keeps thrusting into you. Sliding his hand from your clit up along your stomach and chest, giving one of your cloth covered breasts a squeeze to make you gasp on his way. Wiping his fingers across the damp skin of your neck before pressing two of his digits against your lips. 

“Suck.” Sliding them into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. The taste of sweat and other bodily fluids is enough to ground you, to take away the focus of your exhausted and overstimulated core just long enough for Sylus to ram into you he’s going to leave a permanent imprint of his cock inside your walls. His nostrils flare as that steady rhythm of his finally snaps and he cums inside the condom, his hips still surging forward as if he could pump his seed deep inside your pussy. Slowing to a stop with his tip nudging against your cervix and pulling a third orgasm from you that makes you whine as everything goes white. 

As the sweat drips from his hair onto his neck, he watches you through hooded eyes. Enjoying the way your clothes cling to your body from sweat and the way your skin seems to shine in the dim lighting. Your lips parted just enough to see the tip of your tongue poking out. His fingers are coated in saliva but for now he doesn’t care, carefully removing himself from your slick channel, a thick ring of cream around his base on the condom. Maybe next time. Whispered inside his head. 

You groan as his evol wraps around you and moves you more onto the bed as he slips away, you can vaguely hear the sound of running water. The longer you lay there in the post afterglow with your heart rate slowing down you take deeper and deeper breaths. Sitting up in a snap as cool fabric touches your abused sex. Sylus is there, wiping the soft wet cloth between your folds. “You’re a mess.” He’s back to teasing and you’re still too exhausted from just having been pushed to the edge and thrown over that many times to form any real retort. 

“You don’t look much better.” 

“Trying to be mean? It doesn’t work with clipped claws Kitten.” Chuckling he presses the cloth a little harder into your sex. “After everything, I just did for you.” 

You let out a soft noise, the haze in your limbs lifting and you use your arms to push yourself into a semi seated position. “My clothes are soaked, and I need a shower.” Grumbling as you rub at your face, the damp trails from your tears earlier still on your skin. 

“Later.” Leaning closer to catch your lips in a kiss, his fingers hooking the edge of your shirt. “I remember someone earlier saying she wanted all three options, and the night is still young Sweetie.” 

Suffice to say, when morning came with you tucked away in his bedroom well away from the rays you’re glad you have the day off. Because you’re not getting out of bed with how sore you are, instead you sleepily snuggle back in against Sylus’s chest, earning a chuckle from him as he places bids at an auction. One hand resting against the small of your back and tracing patterns. 

Maybe he’ll have to convince you to do training more often with him if it keeps you there for several hours of sex and passed out in his bed. 

Masterlist

[utterlyazriel]

let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

[blitzyn]

stop moving

re4r leon s. kennedy x m!reader

request: none

synopsis: After finding yourself stuck in a closet with Leon, you end up squirming just a little too much.

a/n -> i have fallen victim to the leon lover rabbit hole. ALSO. I FUCKING FRACTURED MY FINGER??? guys i almost cried when i had to write the word balls. </3 but thank you all for 1k followers! tbh i only started this acc because i liked the font when i wrote something in my drafts lmao. but still! it means a lot to me and im happy to have gotten this far!

wc -> 2.5k

cw -> thigh fucking, hiding in a closet, spit as lube, handjob (r receiving), pet names (baby x2, sweetheart x1), he's kinda possessive tbh, not beta read

This was supposed to be relatively simple: get in, figure out where the president's daughter was, save her, then get out. Sure, you've seen your fair share of weird shit — especially after the outbreak in Raccoon City, but finding out that there was a whole religion dedicated to spreading a plague for the sake of taking over the world definitely takes the cake. For now, at least.

But finding yourself cramped in a closet with Leon, surrounded by a horde of hostile cultists, also wasn't something you expected to happen throughout the entire mission.

"Stop moving so much," Leon quietly muttered from behind you just as you shifted.

"I'm not," you huffed, a bit annoyed that you had to hide in this stuffy closet, even if you knew that you'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for your partner's quick thinking. Against his words, you adjusted yourself again, trying to find a decently comfortable position. Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips and the warmth of his chest pressed to your back as he pulled you flush against him.

"I said, stop moving," he repeated, whispering in your ear. You held back a shudder at the feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of it, stilling completely in surprise. Just then, thunderous footsteps could be heard outside the closet; slowly, listening for any sound that might reveal where the two of you hid.

You tensed and instinctively backed up to further yourself from the perpetrator, even if there wasn't much room to move to begin with. You could faintly hear Leon grunt from behind you, but you were in no position to apologize at the moment. Your eyes were glued to a crack in the old, wooden door, watching as the light shifted when the person passed by.

You waited with bated breath, hoping that it wouldn't come near. But, like some cliche horror movie, you could see the light at the bottom of the door disappear, meaning it was far too close for comfort. With every second the person stood there, the tighter Leon's hold on your hips became. The two of you went so silent your ears rang, and you were briefly afraid that it'd hear the sound of your racing heartbeat.

But after what felt like an eternity, its heavy footsteps started up again and away from the closet. You heaved a sigh of relief when the front door slammed shut, rendering the building empty once more.

"Fucking hell, sorry," you mumbled, trying to shuffle forward and give Leon his space when you realized that he hadn't let go of you yet. "You okay?"

Using the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the door, you lifted your arms a bit and curiously peered at his hands. But that's when you noticed the black lines covering his arms. Upon closer inspection, you quickly realized that they were his veins.

"Christ, Leon, what—"

"Be quiet. Just—just for a second."

You found it hard to tear your eyes away from his arms, waiting in silence. You focused on the sound of his labored breaths, biting your tongue to keep yourself from questioning him even further. Your mind couldn't help the invasion of 'What happened?' and 'What is that?' that threatened to spill from your lips. How did you not notice this earlier?!

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt him rest his forehead on your shoulder, muttering and grunting under his breath. And that's when you felt it — the reason why he was so reluctant to move just yet: he was hard.

"Oh." You couldn't help it, even if he had already told you to shut your mouth twice already. The silence from then on was painfully awkward as the two of you tried to figure out what to say. With a deep breath, you miraculously found the courage to speak up.

"Do you... Can I help you?" You offered, remaining still to keep yourself from accidentally pressing yourself up against him again. It was silent while you waited for his reply, embarrassment wriggling its way through your chest the longer the two of you kept quiet.

"I mean, you don't have to accept, you can just ignore me—" you began to ramble on, mortified that you even asked the question. "I just thought, cause, like, it'll be hard for you to—shit, I didn't mean it like that—"

"[Name]," Leon interrupted you, finding your instant silence charming in its own way. You could hear him take a deep breath in just as his hands slid further up to firmly caress your waist and abdomen. Electricity shot down your spine and pooled in your gut when he tugged you closer to him, grinding himself against your ass. "You can."

He reached for your hand and brought it behind you, placing it directly onto his cock. You gave it a tentative squeeze, savoring the quiet grunt that came from him, feeling your confidence grow by the second. You heard the gentle jingling of his belt as he undid it just enough for you to dip your hand underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers.

"Not wasting a second, huh?" Amusement and lust were laced in his voice as he spoke, a quiet moan spilling from his lips soon after.

He was hot and thick in your hand, throbbing rhythmically. You swiped a finger over the tip that beaded precum, savoring the shudder that came from his body. His hips trusted up into your fist, seeking more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

With a steady pace, you moved your hand up and down, tracing the prominent veins. You felt your own cock twitch at the sound of Leon's breathy groans and sighs, but you ignored it in favor of getting him off.

"Fuuckk," he drawled out, leaning forward to press his lips on the side of your neck. "You're good at this. Makes me think you've done this typa thing before."

"No," you responded, gently rubbing the spot on the underside of the tip. "You're the only one."

"I get the special treatment?" He muttered teasingly, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be my lucky day."

He could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline as he peppered open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck, untucking your shirt to slide a hand up your torso to pinch and toy with a nipple. His free hand traveled lower, slipping his cold fingertips underneath the waistband of your pants, but refused to go further than that.

You could feel his lips curl in a subtle smirk, but even as you realized he was teasing you, testing your patience, you had no intention to retaliate. Christ. The hold this man had on you. It was downright pathetic.

"God," he started, pressing his palm flat on your chest to bring you closer to him—eager for more of your touch. He let his teeth gently scrape against your skin, threatening to bite—to mark you, but he forced himself not to. He couldn't. Not right now. "I want to fuck you so bad."

His words were breathless, borderline desperate, as they left his lips. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up into your fist, pushing and pushing until your hand was flush against your ass, keeping you from jerking him off as he rutted against your hand.

"We can't, Leon," you muttered, disappointment lacing your voice. As much as you'd love to have him inside you, fucking you deep, you knew you couldn't. Not when the Ganados were still outside, at least. "Just let me finish you off."

Leon let out a low growl, knowing that you were right. There were a lot of things the two of you couldn't do inside the confined space of the closet, forcing him to conjure up ideas of what he wanted to do when all of this was over.

But for now, he settled on the second best option: your thighs.

"I know," he murmured, breathing in deeply as he pulled your hand away from his throbbing cock. "Then let me fuck your thighs. I'll be quick, I promise."

You mulled over his words, unsure if it would be a good idea.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, his voice heavy with lust. "Just this once. Then, when we find Ashley and get the hell outta this place, I'll make sure to fuck you properly. Nice 'n hard 'n deep. Wouldn't you like that?"

Fuck it.

"Mhm, yeah, go ahead." You relented, knees weakening at the thought of having his thick cock inside you, stretching and filling you up perfectly.

"Atta boy," he buried his thumbs underneath your pants and boxers, pulling them down to let them drop to your ankles. "Knew you'd come around."

He groaned at the sight of your bare thighs and drooling cock, running his hands along the curve of your ass to lean back and spread it, focusing his gaze on your asshole. "Fuck," he hissed. "Can't wait to feel your tight little hole around me later. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make you mine."

Arousal sank in your stomach like a rock as your hole clenched around nothing. Whatever's coursing through his veins made him more impulsive, more desperate, but with the fog that clouded your thoughts, you hardly found it in you to mind.

He spat on his cock and moved a hand away from your body to briefly jerk himself off and smear the saliva around.

"Open up, baby," he instructed as soon as he was done, raising his hand to caress your hip. "Spread your legs a little."

Like a trained puppy, you obeyed, widening your thighs just enough to let him guide his hard cock in between them. Your breath hitched at the sight of the head peeking out, squeezing your legs around him just a bit tighter.

"Jesus fuck, [Name]," he groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. Through the hazy mess that was in your mind, you found comfort in the warmth and firmness of them as you placed your hands on his forearms for some sort of stability. "That's it. Squeeze me just like that."

You could feel every twitch and throb, and you were sure he could feel yours, too. It felt like your senses were on overdrive as you listened to your labored breaths, his pleased sighs and grunts, and the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs. He set a leisurely pace, rocking his hips back and forth.

"Shit..." He hissed, speeding up his thrusts as his dick rubbed against your balls, smearing his makeshift lube across your skin.

His hips met yours with quiet slaps, making sure to keep the noise level at a minimum despite the overwhelming urge to just bury himself inside you right then and there. He mouthed at the nape of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, gently pressing his teeth down hard enough to send sparks down your spine.

His fingertips pressed into your sides so firmly it hurt, but it only served to mix in with the desire that burned brightly in your belly. He fucked your thighs with a sense of urgency, as if trying to satiate a hunger deep within his subconscious—not that you minded.

He grunted and groaned with every thrust, tightening his arms around your waist to tug you back to him whenever your hips jolted forward. It was intoxicating; the way he so effortlessly turned your body into a sensitive mess left you wanting more.

But as soon as a strong hand wrapped around your aching cock, you nearly came on the spot. One of your hands left Leon's forearm to slap it over your mouth as you tried to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

He breathily chuckled beside your ear. "Is this what you wanted?" He rhetorically questioned, swiping a finger over the leaking head so perfectly it left your skin tingling. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Ohh, fuck," you hissed. It was embarrassing how you so eagerly responded to his touch. "Yeah, th-that's it...!"

Your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the feeling of his slick cock moving in and out from between your thighs. Your lips parted from behind your hand to let out quiet pants and moans, digging your nails into his forearm the closer you got to your orgasm.

"Oh god, Leon—!" You moaned, pressing yourself further against his back. You could feel your legs faltering, but he didn't seem to mind having you rely on him to stand up.

"I know, baby, I know," he muttered, his voice tight and strained as his thrusts gradually grew sloppy and weak. "Me too."

His cock pulsed and twitched, and he can't help himself from clamping his teeth over the side of your neck this time. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it left a noticeable bite mark that dully ached.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he instructed, and you had no choice but to comply.

With a muffled moan, you arched your back and finally came as ropes of your semen coated the dusty wooden floor and Leon's fingers. He stroked you until he was sure that you were spent before letting go to chase after his own release.

"Shit," he cursed, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna cum so... so fucking hard...!"

With a strained groan, his hips jerked erratically as he came, holding you tight enough to leave bruises. You gently rub your thighs together, helping him ride out his high. It wasn't until a few moments later did he finally stop, breathing hard against your neck as he calmed down. But that's also when the clarity kicked in.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, moving his head from you. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened—I just—" he apologized, sighing in defeat a moment later.

"It's fine," you replied, patting his arm. You had to suppress a shudder when he pulled away from your thighs. The cum that ended up on the insides of them quickly cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sensation on your skin. You were just gonna have to suck it up.

"Let's just get outta here, already." You shuffled forward a bit to tug your pants back up your legs while Leon composed himself.

"Yeah," he said, pressing an arm against the dusty, wooden door. Through the dim light, you could see that his veins were no longer visible again, but that thought was going to have to hold off until later. "You ready?"

"Yup." You nodded after briefly making sure you still had everything in place.

Without further thought about what happened just a few seconds ago, Leon pushed the door open and quickly left the closet as you trailed close behind. Now, it was back to work.

[bedoballoons]

Yandere Tighnari, Venti, lyney, Freminet and Aether finding out Reader isn't really into short guys They're into someone bigger and taller {{Itto For Aether, Alhaitham for Tighnari, Nevillete for both Lyney and Freminet and Zhongli for Venti}}

I READ THIS AND WAS LIKE YESSSSSS!!! (As a short person I find this hilarious and your idea is literally genius!) I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Just not that into short bois~༺}

CW: Yandere themes!, characters are obsessive to the point of wanting to harm others so they can't take you, unrequited love, intense jealousy, mild angst! Lyney makes Neuvillette disappear! Also this is much longer than I meant it to be...what can I say, I like yanderes!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Venti, Freminet, and Aether!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney had been told no many times in his life,in fact he couldn't even count how many people said he could never be a famous magician...and yet he'd proved every single one of them wrong. He simply couldn't stand not working towards something everyone else claimed was impossible, because in his eyes anything was possible, so when you confided in him about your feelings towards Neuvillette and stated that you found him more charming because of his height, even going so far as to mention you didn't really like short men as much...he just couldn't give up so easily.

He was madly in love with you, to the point it had become more than obsession, he'd seek you out anytime he'd left his home and any show he'd make sure to wink at you the moment his eyes met yours, he was so head over heels for you that he was physically unable to think about anyone or anything else. This also meant he wouldn't let anyone take you...especially just because they were taller...absolutely not.

So for his next show he planned something extra special, a magic trick truly wonderful in everyway...and as the crowd cheered, watching in awe when the box that had contained the chief of justice disappeared before their very eyes...none of them were aware he wouldn't show back up again...at least not for along while. Not until Lyney had found a way to make you love him, not until you...the most precious beautiful thing in all the world...was his.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari stood next to you, his ears drooping with regret as he watched you flirt away with Alhaitham, his tall muscular figure drawing you to him like a moth to a flame...making you completely forget about the one who'd brought you together in the first place. It was like some cruel trick of fate...especially considering Tighnari had planned to confess his feelings for you that same day...and now it seemed like it would do no good..

He tapped your shoulder, not waiting for your response as he intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you away from Alhaitham as quickly as possible...and silently hoping you'd leave the whole situation at that. You on the other hand were not so happy with him, wanting desperately to continue your conversation with the handsome scribe..., "Tighnari what was that about? I was really getting along with-" He put a gloved finger to your lips, making you go quiet, his heart racing as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I love you...so much. I can't even really wrap my head around my feelings because they are so intense...it's like I need you just to keep going...like you're the thing I simply cannot live without. Even the air I breathe isn't as important as you are...." His confession was a bit much to say the least and adding to it was the kiss he placed on your forehead, causing you to jerk away from him.

"I'm sorry...but I don't feel that way for you..." Your words spilled out before you could stop them, your heart racing with fear at the change in his mannerisms...he didn't even respond...he just stood there...like he was plotting something and you...were about to find out just how crazy his love for you actually was.

𑁍༄Venti:

"I actually do have feelings for someone."

The second those words left your lips Ventis heart began to race, his mind clouded over with thoughts of you confessing to him and telling him you loved him...it was all he wanted. No, it was all he needed! He tried his best to calm himself down, taking a sip of wine before responding like someone who was completely clueless of the others feelings would, "Oh ho ho and who would that lucky person be hmm?"

A blush coated your cheeks followed by a sweet flustered smile that could make even Lord Barbatos swoon and boy was he...until you answered, "I like Mr. Zhongli~" You giggled nervously, not noticing how pale Venti went the second he heard the name...how the part of the wine bottle he'd been holding had shattered, much like his heart...you didn't even notice the hurt tone of his voice when he asked, "What does that old blockhead have that I don't?"

The question definitely took you by surprise, but you assumed he wasn't being serious and decided to answer truthfully, "Well he's a bit more refined...and I like his voice, but most of all he's so tall! I'm sorry Venti but I just can't imagine myself with someone...so tiny." The anemo archon was speechless...hatred seeping into his very being and jealousy getting the better of him. He stood up without another word and left, leaving you wondering what had happened...

𑁍༄Freminet:

Freminet was completely silent, his face bright red and burning with a rage he'd never felt before, his hands barely able to keep steady as jealousy ate away at his once calm heart heart. All he wanted was you...your love, that sweet smile that he craved to see everyday, but here you were, sitting Infront of him with this doe eyed look on your face as you fawned all over none other than the chief of justice. Mentioning more than once how tall and handsome he was, how incredible it would to have a man like him around.

"Enough."

You paused mid sentence, caught off guard by the amount of malice in his once kind sweet voice, watching as he stood up from his seat, your mouth slightly agape. You'd never seen him like this before...so angry and confident, it was scary...yet also a little exciting. After a moment of silence you'd worked up the courage to say something...but you didn't even manage to get a single word out as he grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you harshly towards him, making you let out nothing more than a sharp gasp.

Your face went red, pure shock displaying itself on your features as he leaned in closer, his light purple eyes seemingly staring into your soul as his whispers grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "Hush now my love...you don't need him...I promise~"

𑁍༄Aether:

Aether was always there to help someone, so reliable in fact, that everyone called on him whenever there was a issue and including you, after all he'd saved you from many close calls...even saving your life a few times in the process and for that you were incredibly grateful, but alas you were still not in love with him. He on the other hand couldn't get enough of you, he just wanted to be near you all the time...be your hero and love you like nobody else ever could.

He...however wasn't the only person who could save someone and when the friendly neighborhood oni stepped in to save you, Aether was anything but pleased... especially when he saw the difference in how you acted. Yes your gratitude was the same...but you'd gotten all flustered at the onis impressive figure, touching the large man's chest while your face heated with such a strong blush and everyone around you cheered him on.

Aether was more than a little upset, suddenly understanding that he clearly wasn't your type and that he probably would never be, he just couldn't stand it! How could you, the person he'd do absolutely anything for...be so enraptured by someone else...just because they were bigger than him. No, he wouldn't let it stand, he'd fight for you, even if it meant doing things he could regret later on...it didn't matter, not anymore. You were all he cared about...all that mattered.

Just. You.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[ksharkthemommy]

MDNI 🔞

I'm no writer but if someone wanted to give life to my ghost cod prompt feel free to do so I just request to be tagged so I can read it anywho onto the prompt

Ok imagine you're transferred to the 141 and ghost being ghost he immediately dislikes you and no matter how hard you try you'll never get his approval but after a particularly rough training session you end up sleeping together and you think "oh he likes me" except he treats you the same if not worse then before so you decide to stop trying with him then you miss your period and yup you're pregnant but you think if you told ghost he'd tell you to get rid of it or tell you to figure it out yourself because he won't be helping so you decide not to tell him you go to price and request a transfer to a new position or to be medically discharged and just disappear dont even say goodbye to ghost because why would he care right? Then after a few months you're settled into your apartment you get a knock on the door and when you look you see a large blonde man with a clipboard outside assuming it's maintenance to fix your ac or something (because ghost is so mean he'd never taken off his skull mask around you not even to kiss you) so you open the door and he immediately smiles seeing your bump and before you can even greet him hes pushing you back into the apartment closing the door and says "did you really think you could run away and I just wouldn't find out" and you immediately recognize his voice and a wave of fear rushes over you except he's so so sweet and gentle especially as he grabs you and presses his lips to yours holding you in his big strong arms only pulling away to greet your belly "can you believe mama thought she could keep you secret from me? Don't worry little one" he says while caressing your stomach while you stand there utterly confused at his complete shift in behavior "daddys not going anywhere" that's when you try to move away "ghost I'm sorry I thought you wouldn't want her since you hated me so much" he looks you in your eyes moving to hold you again "Simon" "what" "m'names Simon" hes holding you so lovingly its completely foreign "an I could never hate you"

And then they get married and live happily ever after or however yall want it to end lol

[ro-is-struggling]

Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined. 

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you. 

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away. 

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders. 

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness. 

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know. 

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him. 

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence. 

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts. 

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go. 

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you." 

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?” 

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves. 

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so. 

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right." 

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal. 

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had. 

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear. 

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes. 

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table. 

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died. 

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him. 

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet." 

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain. 

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him. 

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source. 

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up. 

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed. 

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it. 

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him. 

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned. 

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that. 

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you. 

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection. 

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time. 

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head. 

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body.  You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine. 

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you. 

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock. 

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you. 

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible. 

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles. 

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips. 

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him. 

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move. 

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole." 

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock." 

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it." 

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit. 

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had. 

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you." 

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved. 

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms. 

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.