#The cast is in no way capable of looking good right now

[frenchgremlim1808]

i love you people who draw scars around the cast necks. Love you people who draw the cast with the hair messy. Love you people who draw the cast with visible eye bags and tired sore eyes. Love you people who draw the cast exhausted sick and not fit for this. Love you people who draws the cast never forgetting the absolute horror that they had to live trough

[mediacircuspod]

This scene was absolutely beautiful BUT it’s also the crux of the issue. You guys this is where the problems start. Because—because Crowley’s already cast out, he finds COMFORT in the idea that they are lonely together. “As far as he can” becoming “as far as they can” is an END to his complete “otherness” and something to appreciate, to covet, and to find solace in. He’s finally not alone.

But—and this is important.

Aziraphale does NOT feel that. He can’t.

This moment is completely and utterly devastating for Zira. He finds out he’s not damned and sure, he’s relieved. But he’s no longer “an Angel” in the way that he’s learned is right. He’s now unchangeably and forever; less holy—a concept that is dearly important to his identity. “[Going] along with heaven as far as he can” is a FAILING on his part. Not heaven’s(at least to him). There is no solace or comfort—he finds existence like that—just the two of them—achingly LONELY. And that’s just how his perspective demands to be taken. It’s the only perspective he is capable of in that moment AND after it, too.

Take into account Crowley has went from having no one AT ALL to having SOMEONE. And he puts EVERYTHING he has into it. This is not good. It’s unfair to Aziraphale. And it’s unfair to himself. On the opposite side, you have Aziraphale. Who has just went from having the ENTIRE HEAVENLY HOST, to having this SINGLE demon— who, one minute ago, Aziraphale thought would be dragging him off to hell.

And the part that aches is that this perspective hasn’t changed. Aziraphale feels like his existence is lacking because he wants so badly to be GOOD. And good is Holy. Good is heavenly. He’s the problem for having morals that are misaligned.

Spoilers for the last episode:

Aziraphale has just been given the validation that he is not only GOOD but the most HEAVENLY Angel there is, the Supreme Archangel, even. And if heavens morals are now HIS morals, then that’s EVERY PROBLEM SOLVED. With a bow even, because Crowley’s basically on heavens side anyway, he’s GOOD, isn’t he? He’s been good this whole time, so why wouldn’t heaven want him back? Reinstating him as Angel would fix everything. They can be together, and they can be good, and they can be HOLY. All Aziraphale’s conflicting emotions about loving Crowley can be packed away because Crowley will be perfect again—and surely Crowley wants to be perfect—wants to be forgiven.(sorry everyone, that hurt me too, oof) Aziraphale is SHOCKED by Crowley’s refusal. He’s devastated that his version of perfect is treated as something naive and distasteful.

Crowley’s devastated too. He’s just lost “their side”. A concept that for 5000+ years has been THE ONLY THING he puts love into besides his car and perhaps his plants(And humanity, but he’ll never admit to that—I’m looking at the “No more dying” scene). Crowley is constantly being devastated by Aziraphale. He’s “too fast”, he’s too evil, he’s too good sometimes. Crowley has always been TOO MUCH. But this is different because for four years, he’s had “them”(on their own side) without the hiding, and without the denial and without Aziraphale constantly putting former jobs between them. PLUS he has a mountain of trauma centered around the concept of “forgiveness”, so that’s not great considering Aziraphale’s last words to him(THAT HE HASNT SAID ALL SEASON EVEN WHEN HE MADE CROWLEY APOLOGIZE IN THE FIRST EPISODE, AHHHHH). He’s losing everything and he’s desperate: Why isn’t he enough, hasn’t he been enough these last 4 years? Hasn’t HE been enough the last 6000?

Aziraphale has always been enough for Crowley. But being enough for Crowley doesn’t fix how Aziraphale has never been enough for himself, not since Job. He looks at this offer as a chance for HIM to be enough, and for Crowley to be FORGIVEN. Crowley looks at it as a betrayal because it’s Aziraphale saying Crowley ISNT enough, and he NEVER has been.

But that’s not what Aziraphale is saying. He’s saying, “Let me fix it for you”. Crowley is hearing, “Let me fix you for it.” Two completely different and completely horrifying concepts.

And then Crowley needs to say HIS piece(oh my gosh, btw, this was heartbreaking).

“Let’s be together on our terms” is basically what I’ve distilled it down to. But Aziraphale hears, “Let’s run away from our problems”

Aziraphale doesn’t want to run away, and Crowley doesn’t want to change who he is.

They both want to be together so badly but they don’t understand why they each want it so differently. And Aziraphale can’t compromise because he’s brainwashed and LOATHES himself. And Crowley can’t compromise because he’s traumatized and LOVES Aziraphale just as he is. Crowley doesn’t want to be good on heavens terms. He can see Heaven for what it is; “toxic”. He hates heaven not only for what the Host did to him, but for HOW THEY TREATED Aziraphale.

They both don’t understand each other because for all the pleading and presenting and monologuing, they never once in that whole conversation, actually talked.

[zriasstuff]

Final blow- Mattheo Riddle x reader

Mattheo Riddle oneshot; including a classic wizarding duel, tension filled atmosphere, and a cute ending <3 (SFW)

“For our next duel, I’m asking Mattheo Riddle and Miss Y/n to please step up onto the platform”

The words from professor Snape echoed through the duelling practice room, and as of right now everyone was staring at you two. It didn’t come as a shock to you when you were picked. Both of you were pretty much on the same level, with the exception of course that you had way less of an ego than Mattheo.

Defense against the dark arts was your favorite subject, especially when it came to doing hands on things. Duelling just happened to be one of your favorite things to practice. The tougher the opponent, the sweeter the victory, you believed. With Mattheo, you had to make sure that you would fight till the last moment, and to not go down without a proper fight.

“C’mon, go up!”, your friends encourage you, “You got this!”. They all believed in you, and told you that your chances were good, making you feel more secure in your skills. Through all the encouragement you got, you start moving towards where the showdown would take place.

As you go up, you look at Mattheo, who seemed confident to say the least. He knows he’s good and everyone else knows it too. Moreover, all the quidditch training certainly gave him a strong and muscular body to work with.

Before the duel begins, you scan the crowd one more time for looks and chants of support. “MAKE US RAVENCLAWS PROUD!”, you hear someone yelling amidst all the people. That you were extremely thankful for, since you could really use all the positive reassurance you could get. You quickly say thank you back to the crowd.

At the same time, the Slytherins must’ve seen this as another competition and started yelling all sorts of things in support of their representative too. Together, they sure looked like a mean bunch.

“YOU GOT THIS MATTHEO!”, his friend Blaise hollers loudly. Draco, right after, shouts out “YEAHH, DESTROY HER!”.

What a gentleman you mutter to yourself, and Mattheo must’ve heard it because you hear a slight chuckle escaping his mouth.

“Nervous”, he quietly asks you.

“Not at all”, you respond in the most self assured manner that you can muster.

He himself didn’t look nervous at all, but rather excited to have a “play partner”. Frankly you weren’t either, but you also knew that going up against him wouldn’t be easy.

Mattheo keeps looking you in the eye with a slight grin, so to match his energy, you hold eye contact with him too and make sure that your posture is straight. If you don’t look capable from the beginning, you are never going to make it to the end.

To commence this duel at last, Snape retells the rules of combat and announces that “only magical acts can be used as a form of offense or defense. You may disarm or harm your opponent, but must not seriously injure them.” Otherwise Madam Pomfrey would surely throw another fit at you “immature rascals”.

You were counting on disarming Mattheo to be your tactic. His fatal flaw was, noting from your past observations, being too aggressive, and not fully protecting himself. Besides that, he was flawless.

All eyes on you guys now, you start off by bowing to each other to pay your respects. “Good luck”, he whispers to you while you’re on eye level. “Same to you”, you reply, to make him know that you weren’t scared.

As Snape was counting down from three, you calmed yourself down once again, telling yourself that it would be fine. When Snape reaches the final number three, Mattheo immediately goes into the offense and casts several stunning spells, which you block with your shielding spell. You had practiced that one so often, that you could confidently utilize it at any given time. Mattheo keeps trying to push you back further. One after another, his attacking spells are blasted at you. And one after another you block them. It was a back and forth dance between you two, neither one of you budging yet.

He came alarmingly close though. One of his spells had caught your shoulder, sending an electrifying shock through your body. Another one had hit your torso straight like a bullet. That one had caused you the most pain. You grunted and held your hand over the wounded area, but it was still bearable. You just had to fight through the pain.

Both of you kept going, at this point recognizing that victory wouldn’t come easily to either one of you. Mattheo, looking forward to making things a little more playful, cheekily calls out “holding up pretty well for someone like you”. You knew he was trying to get you off of your game by sounding condescending. He was well aware of your capabilities. Therefore you clap back by saying “that shouldn’t come as a surprise, and you’re not as good as you think you are”.

Having said that, you hear a few murmurs amongst the students. Snape takes the time to remind you to keep the personal bashing to yourselfs until the duel is resolved. Mattheo seems to take it quite personally though, now casting out especially aggressive spells.

Even by then you are able to hold up, but there was still no opportunity to really harm him. The back and forth kept going to the point where neither of you saw an end to this.

After a while, having been so concentrated on defending yourself and managing your pain, you hadn’t even looked at Mattheo anymore to see how he was doing. You just saw his spells shooting at you. So, when you finally did look, you noticed that Mattheo was getting a little riled up himself and losing his edge. He always tries to keep his cool, to not show any signs of weakness. Yet, there you were, taking hit after hit, and not backing down. It made him frustrated to see his efforts not meeting his expectations.

After more exchanges of non sufficient spells, you are getting way too tired, and you decide it’s time to put this exhausting duel to an end. You just had to wait for the perfect moment.

In Mattheo’s mind, he was also just waiting for the perfect moment, hoping for you to retreat.

When you glance at the audience again for just a second, you see the gawking mouths of some of the Slytherins. Instantly, it boosts your confidence. If even they were stunned by you, then all was going right, and you knew you got this. If you could really defeat Mattheo, his ego was probably going to be bruised for a good several days at least.

Between further dodging spells, and shielding yourself, it was really difficult to find the perfect moment, though you had a feeling it would come soon enough. Mattheo was getting even more frustrated. His spells weren’t as accurate anymore. His arm was losing strength and going a little limp. And most important of all, his confidence became tainted.

While trying to catch his breath for a second, Mattheo simultaneously lowers his arm. During that one scarce moment, you decide to deliver the final blow.

“EXPELLIARMUS!”, you call out. Everyone’s eyes were wide open, seeing exactly as the spell hit Mattheo, causing his wand to fly across the platform, all the way into your hand. You catch it with precision, and watch his look of disbelief. You couldn’t even fully believe it yourself. He was done for.

“Wanna wave the white flag now?”, you cheekily ask him now, as he’s still trying to catch his breath. It was a little mean, but he could handle it.

Mattheo still can’t believe what just happened based on the look on his face. You see him scrunching his eyebrows, and mouth hanging wide open.

Although he knows he’s got nothing left, he still replies with “never”.

“As you wish”, you say with a wide grin, because in the next second, your final spell sent him flying across the room. Mattheo falls off of the duelling platform at the end, all the way onto the ground.

As his body hit the hard floor, all students from every house, except the Slytherins of course, started cheering for you. You felt as if you were on cloud nine hearing all their chants. Your heart was still beating rapidly, as if it was going to explode any second. A little part of you can’t believe that you just sent Mattheo flying across the platform, but the bigger part was gloating with pride.

You watch Mattheo prop himself up and walk back onto the platform to go up to you. He warmly, to your surprise, meets your gaze and brings out his hand to shake yours.

“Looks like you didn’t need luck after all”, he congratulates you. You’re taken aback for a second because this behavior of him wasn’t what you expected at all. He clearly notices and goes on to say “I rarely lose, but when I do I try not to be a sore loser”.

When he goes to his friends, he turns back and winks at you with a smirk plastered on his face. Winning was already quite the event, but Mattheo being a perfect gentleman weirdly made your insides churn.

…

You wait for everyone to leave the room after enough duelling was done for the morning. The reason was because you saw, from the corner of your eye, that Mattheo was also taking his time. You didn’t even know exactly why you were waiting for him.

Not that it was your planned intention, but you decide to go up to him and tell him that it was a great, although stressful, duel. Perhaps that would fuel some kind of conversation.

“No need to gloat”, he throws back at you. He didn’t sound all too happy, and maybe he did take the loss stronger than he showed at first. Your mind starts to spin and look for kind words. You definitely didn’t mean to insult him, so you quickly stutter out

“No- that’s not what I-”

Before you could finish that jumbled sentence though, he chuckles out loud, his eyes giving you a look of sympathy. His entire demeanor has changed now, the upset look from before just having been a facade.

“Chill, I was just kidding”, he cheerfully says. Seconds later he adds “You won fair and square, I’m actually really impressed with you”. It sounded like he meant it genuinely.

That compliment wasn’t something you expected. Relieved at his relaxed attitude, you choose to go along with his joking manner and respond with “I’m definitely going to hold that over your head forever”.

That earned you yet another precious chuckle from him. His laugh was truly contagious because shortly after you start laughing too. You had actually never expected that talking with Mattheo could feel so carefree and fun.

“Y’know I actually thought you were a lot more arrogant”, you honestly admitted to him during your talk. As far as the truth went, this was it. You could see that it had certainly been a little presumptuous of you to assume that about him.

“Well that’s because you don’t really know me and make pointless assumptions, but I don’t blame you”, he boldly calls you out on your prejudices too.

Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you imagined, but definitely still cocky.

Suddenly he puts his hand on your shoulder, which makes you jerk back at first. The sudden contact just came as a surprise. He also takes notice, but when he sees that you don’t mind after the initial shock, he just kept it there. “So, wanna get out of here?”, he suggested. “We could talk and you could get to know me better”, Mattheo proposes, obviously referring to your previous statement.

“Well, how can I say no to that”, you comply while flashing him a gentle smile.

And with that, both of you leave the room, with Mattheo’s hand still wrapped around your shoulders.

[ohthewh0rror]

ETERNALLY YOURS.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — The follow up to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear.’ Now that your marriage has been irreparably damaged, where do the two of you go from here?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: 2k

A/N: I changed my mind after writing a completely different ending. At first I wanted to make it angst-filled and unhappy but I keep writing sad stuff, and you guys deserve a break. Thank you to my best friend Madie for proof-reading/editing this once again and to @brooklynscherry-z for helping me get a better understanding of Tom & Mattheo’s lore. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this (much shorter) continuation to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear”!

“A letter arrived for you this morning, Y/N,” came the soft voice of your great aunt Delia, her wrinkled hand holding the letter out for you. For a second you were confused, unsure of who would have sent you a letter, especially at such an early hour, until it dawned on you.

Your husband.

A pang of hurt hit your heart at the thought of him. It had been two months since you had seen or spoken to him and though you hated him, another, smaller, part of you missed him terribly. He had been your first love and dearest friend, and his infidelity wasn’t enough to completely erase the love you’ve held for him since the two of you were only seventeen.

As you held the letter in your hands you contemplated not opening it, to instead toss it in the trash and forget it ever arrived. You eyed the entrance to the kitchens, the trash was right through that door, you could throw it away and leave the contents of the letter a mystery. But, as you turned the letter over in your hands, you felt curiosity eating at the back of your mind, beckoning you to open the letter and dissect its contents.

‘Well…it couldn’t hurt,’ you thought, gently unfolding the parchment. As your eyes skimmed over the opening of the letter, you soon realized this was not a letter you should read in the company of others. Folding the letter back up, you looked at your aunt, asking “may I be excused?”

Her eyes darted between the parchment and your eyes, and she looked as if she wanted to ask you something but she waved you off instead, wordlessly telling you that you may take your leave.

You gave her a nod of gratitude before heading to the room you were staying in, trying your hardest to seem normal. Once you entered your room, you made sure to lock the doors and cast a silencing charm for good measure. You did not want your aunt to hear you in the event that you became upset.

Sitting at the desk in the corner of your room, you unfolded the letter and began to read it once again.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been two months since I have seen or spoken to you, and I must admit that I miss you more than I thought myself capable of. I understand that what I did was unforgivable in your eyes, but I hope by telling you everything it will help you process what is going on so we may move forward from this.

A year ago I approached Bellatrix with the proposition of conceiving and carrying my heir. I explained I did this out of a need to produce an heir and you had not been able to get pregnant yourself. Once she had the child, the child would be ours to raise, she was merely going to be a surrogate of sorts; she understood and agreed to the terms and from there we began the affair.

She finally fell pregnant 6 months ago with a boy. While I should've told you about my plans before approaching her, I most definitely should have told you once she was with child. I am sincerely sorry that you found out the way you did. I wish I could have told you myself, under better circumstances.

Please consider coming back home so that we may be a proper family.

Eternally yours, Tom

You felt a few tears slip out and drip from your eyes onto the parchment, smearing the ink that stained the page with its terrible words. Oh how you wish he hadn’t written to you. His answers did not bring any form of acceptance of his actions, only further heartbreak. It was hard for you to comprehend how he could have sex with her and then return home to you as if all was normal.

“Reducio,” you muttered, shrinking the letter. You carefully folded it, being sure not to rip it, before you got out of your seat and made your way to your closet. On the top shelf, in the furthest corner, sat an intricately carved wooden box with flowers lining the top and sides. The initials M.R sat right above the lock. You conjured a small stepping stool, but even with the stool you were still unable to reach it, leaving yourself to blindly swipe your hand across the shelf till you finally felt your fingers bump the edge.

With what you were looking for finally in your grasp, you got off the stool and went back to your desk. You sat down again, reaching towards one of the desk drawers, and pulling it open to retrieve the small key for the box. As soon as the lock clicked, you opened the top, revealing an empty interior.

The box was made to hold important milestone objects and keepsakes for your son. You planned to fill it with your own letters and pictures so that you could look back on it when he is older and no longer needs you, to remind yourself of simpler times. You hadn’t planned on putting anything related to Tom in there. The thought of him was far too painful, and you didn’t want to taint the little bits of happiness within.

Taking the shrunken letter you placed it in the box before sliding off your wedding ring and putting it on top of the letter. As you closed the box once again, you felt as if you were also closing the metaphorical lid on your marriage. You wouldn’t grace Tom with your presence, a simple letter would have to suffice as you decided you were going to effectively cut him out of your life.

Dear Tom,

I will keep this letter simple and to the point. I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to take some form of accountability for your actions, as I know it’s not something that comes easy to you. But, I will not be returning home nor will we be playing at being a happy family. If you want to be a family as badly as you say, then leave our marriage intact but let us live separate lives. Don’t worry, I do not plan to date or remarry, for you are my first and final love.

That all being said, do not contact me again unless it is with divorce proceedings.

P.s. congratulations on the heir you always wanted.

Sincerely, Y/N

Putting your quill down, you read over the letter one more time to be sure this was what you wanted your final words to him to be. Satisfied with what you wrote, you got out of your chair once again and left the room, heading towards the back garden where you knew the owl belonging to your aunt would be.

Walking into the small building that housed her owl you saw the bird, Chipp, still here and not away delivering mail for your aunt. You gave Chipp a few treats as a thank you for going out in the cold for delivering this letter for you before holding the letter out for the owl to take. Chipp happily took the parchment and flew off to take the letter to its recipient.

That was the last time you spoke to Tom. As the months turned to years, Tom became a distant, painful memory.

11 years later

“Mattheo! Wait up!” You called out to your son, as he excitedly ran ahead of you. You were winded trying to keep up with him, trying hard not to lose him in the crowd of teary-eyed mothers and nervous children. When you finally caught up to him, you grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him. “I understand you’re excited, but will you try not to run off,” you were panting slightly, “I would at least like to tell you goodbye.”

Mattheo looked exasperated, trying already to seem too cool to tell his mother bye. “But mum—” he started, trying to justify his running off. “No buts; now, let me see you,” you said, motioning him to turn around. He groaned, turning around to face you. You held him by his arms in front of you, “listen, and actually listen to me for once; listen to your professors and don’t cause trouble, I know how—” you paused mid sentence when something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

It was your husband.

Your husband, who you hadn’t seen in 11 years, with a young boy standing beside him. The two of you locked eyes and you felt a wave of discomfort hit you. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he would be here, his son and Mattheo are close in age, they’d obviously go to school together.

You decided to skip the speech and quickly walk further up the platform, trying to put more room between you and Tom. You didn’t want Tom to approach you and attempt to talk to you or your son. Mattheo didn’t need to go through such a confusing altercation on such an important day. This day was only about him and you wanted it to be special.

Once you put a satisfying amount of room between the two of you, you stopped and your son decided to ask why that man was staring at you. Waving him off, you explained, “he’s just someone I used to know, that’s all.” Mattheo looked like he had more questions, but you didn’t give him the chance to ask them. Instead, you gave him a parting kiss on the forehead and told him goodbye before all but pushing him onto the train.

You backed away and watched Mattheo walk further into the train before he finally disappeared from sight. You felt your eyes well up with tears at the reality of your son leaving for Hogwarts, giving you definitive proof of how old he was getting. It made you wish you possessed a time turner, just so you could go back to the beginning and do it all over again.

As you shuffled back toward the exit, you were lost in thought over how Mattheo would do at Hogwarts. What house would he be in? Would he make friends? How would he do academically? You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed someone closing in on you until it was too late.

You felt a hand wrap around your bicep and pull you back slightly causing you to stumble into their chest. You whipped around, about to give the owner of the offending hand a piece of your mind when you saw who was touching you.

Tom looked at you, and though his face remained neutral, you swear you saw a glint of hurt in his eyes. He released your arm only to place a hand on the small of your back, “walk with me, Y/N?”

You hesitated for a second before giving him a small nod and walking with him back towards the entrance to platform 9 ¾. There was a moment of tense, awkward silence before he spoke.

“What is his name?” Tom asked. You thought about whether you wanted to tell him or not, as you knew where this conversation was headed.

“Mattheo,” was all you said. Not giving away his full name, as you weren’t ready to admit you’d given him Tom’s last name.

Tom went silent again and you looked up to see him deep in thought. Not wanting to make the situation any more uncomfortable by just staring at him, you looked away, waiting for him to speak once again. Though, once he spoke, you wish he had kept the awkward silence between you two.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @mypolicemanharryyy @jessysfangirlworld @homan-oid @motherofdragons1998 @theeslutintheroom @pasta01 @lovefks @mwahbella @storminacloud @brooklynscherry-z @eri-s-big-sis @eversei @tomhollandisabae @rlblackbarbie @cyphah @cookielovesbook-akie

[darlingdesire]

GOOD GIRL 18+

Harry is your sexy, rich boss. And you occasionally fuck in his office—so here's that!!

“Come here.”

His words were simple, but the way he spoke them sent a shiver down your spine and your breathing momentarily halt. Harry was sat at his desk, the only light coming from the lamp that cast a golden haze over his figure, intensifying the dark look on his face.

He looked up at you as if seeing right through you, reading every thought in your mind. "Y/N" His voice sounded deep and commanding yet still gentle. "Come here." He said again, this time more sternly than ever before. "Do not make me ask again."

You swallowed hard, trying to help down the shy feeling you got when Harry spoke to you this way; nodded, and began to make your feet move over to his desk. Your heels clicking against the floor was the only sound heard in his large office.

As soon as you made contact with his desk, he grabbed hold of both sides of your hips and pulled you closer towards himself. "Good girl..." he whispered into your ear, causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. "...now sit down."

You blinked at him, trying to gauge what he meant by that; your mind was trying to figure out if he meant on the desk, or on his lap. You were overthinking it greatly, but being in his presence made you get that way. Who could blame you, he was your boss—one wrong move and you could be gone and replaced by some other girl just with a snap of his fingers. But you knew he wouldn't do that, he adored you too much.

He chuckled softly, watching you struggle to comprehend. "Sit on my lap, Love." He said simply, looking straight ahead without any hint of emotion whatsoever. "Don't think about anything else besides sitting there. Just focus on doing exactly as I say."

You glanced down at his clothed lap; it looked inviting, very inviting. So you lowered yourself down until you were seated on his lap. You tried to control your breathing, but knowing what was underneath you made you feel flustered. You could feel the way it had indented his black pants, and it pressed against the bottom of your thigh very distinctly.

His hand reached up and cupped one side of your face gently, stroking along your cheekbone."Relax, love." He murmured quietly, leaning forward slightly so that your noses brushed together. "Just breathe slowly...in through your nose...out through your mouth..good girl.”

You still hadn't said anything since entering his office, and you don't think you were capable of it anyway as you focused on steadying your breathing. It was embarrassing how much your heart was beating.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you try not to make too much noise while struggling to keep calm. “That's right, darling. Calm yourself down now..." He whispered soothingly, brushing his thumb across your lower lip once more. "...just let go...”

“Harry...” You whispered, not knowing what you were gonna say after that, the word just trailed off into the air. But it was also a plea, a desperate plea that begged him to continue with what he was doing—God, you wanted him bad.

The look in his eye told you everything you needed to know without needing to hear another word. "Shh...it'll be alright, darling." He said softly, kissing your forehead tenderly before pulling back again. “Now close your eyes for me, please?" He asked quietly, looking down.

You closed your eyes; the darkness clouding your vision and you could only focus on his touch and the heat of his intense stare on your face. This was a regular thing for the two of you, probably once or twice a week when he had to stay behind after hours for some work things, and since you were his assistant; you had to stay as well, so what better way to relieve stress than this. It had started a few months after you started working for him, and now, one year into this job it was still going on strong. He was a very successful man, very rich, and very attractive.

His hands moved slowly up your sides, stopping briefly at your waistband. "Good girl," he murmured, giving your cheek a soft kiss before continuing on. "Just relax, love. Let me take care of you tonight."

Your chest started rising and falling deeply, continuing to focus on his hands that smoothed over your body. You felt the heat in your core burn more rapidly, more hotter. It was making you go insane, you couldnt keep yourself calm as you felt his fingers ghost over the waistband of your black skirt.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he heard your breathing become heavier. "Such an obedient little pet aren't we?" He teased, slowly letting his fingers move underneath the waistband and go further down."Tell me how much you want this, baby..."

Your thighs couldn't help but close, his teasing touches too much for you to handle, but he didn't like that and used his free hand to push your thighs apart—squeezing on the flesh as a warning to keep them open.

The sound of his voice sent shivers through your spine, causing goosebumps to form. "Keep those legs spread wide for me, darling" He said huskily, moving his other arm around your front and pulled you closer to his chest, pinning you against his chest as the hand that was inside your skirt finally met your panties. “You didn't answer my question.”

Your eyes snapped open and you dropped your head down to look at where his hand was hidden; “So bad,” Your murmured, squirming on his lap a little when his fingers started ghosting over your clit, “I want it.”

His grin widened."Good girl." He whispered softly into your ear, continuing to tease you by rubbing circles around your clit. "Now tell me what you need, love..tell me how badly you want this...how badly..."

Your hair fell down your shoulders in waves, hiding your face from him and you closed your eyes again to relinquish the pleasurable feeling he was giving you. “I need you to...” You gasped softly when he pushed his hand into your panties and used his other hand to push your legs further apart. “Touch me like that.”

A low hum rumbled out of his throat as he felt your body tense up beneath him. "Hmm? Tell me more, baby." He teased, sliding two fingers between your folds and pressing gently against your entrance. "Tell me what else you need."

You nodded slowly, your lips parting as you drew in shallow breaths. “I need you to fuck me...” Your hand went to grab his clothed wrist, making sure his own hand stayed there inside your panties and not anywhere else; “Hard.”

A smirk spread across his lips as he heard those words leave your mouth. "Hard?" He asked teasingly, pushing another finger inside you while still using his thumb to rub against your sensitive spot. "You want me to fuck you so hard?" He pushed your hair out of your face and pulled your head back so it was resting by his; and he whispered the next words into your ear; “and rough, baby?”

Your eyes clenched shut when you felt two of his fingers sink into your entrance; “Please.” You whimpered, your hips shifted around and you were slowly moving against his lap—against his cock that was hard and ready for you.

His breath hitched slightly as he saw how eager you were becoming. "So needy..." He groaned quietly, leaning forward to kiss your neck and shoulder before whispering again. "...So perfect for me aren't you, my perfect girl, hmm?”

You nodded again, unable to form words as his fingers continued to relentlessly pleasure you—over and over again and he just wasn't stopping. You breath caught in your throat and your grip on his wrist tightened as you felt the knot in your belly tighten, you felt him kiss his way up your neck, knowing you were about to cum all over his fingers— he proceeded to make them move faster and harder.

As soon as you started moaning loudly, he knew what was coming next. "Sweet girl gonna cum?" He chuckled softly, biting down gently on your collarbone before pulling away from you. “Cum for me,” He whispered into your ear, and just like that on command, you felt the flood gates open and the rope fully snap.

Your entire body tensed as you climaxed, and his arm tightened around your body, keeping you pinned close to him as to make sure you didn't wriggle away to get away from the intense pleasure. “Harry!” You smacked your hand down onto his neck, holding it to keep his face close to yours.

He smirked widely, kissing your lips passionately once more. "Good girl." he said smugly, squeezing your side as he held you tight against himself. His other hand ran through your hair affectionately, stroking it lightly while still pinning you to him, “come here.”

You turned your face to his and immediately, he closed his mouth over yours without any warning—like he was desperate for that kind of closeness. You moaned softly against his lips and he began to move his hands up your sides, smoothing up over your shirt and suddenly ripped it open, the buttons flew off and you gasped; his tongue entering your mouth. His hands went under the shirt and moved over your skin, cupping your breasts that we're covered by your lace bra.

His fingers traced along the lace over your bra and pulled it down, your breast spilled out and he immediately cupped it. "Mmm...” He moaned against your lips darkly at the feeling of your breast against his hand. He pulled away from the kiss; his eyes so dark and filled with lust it made you want to hide away, “Bend over the desk.”

You wasted no time in climbing off his lap and finding home bent over his desk. He followed suit and stood up, instantly pressing his crotch to your ass, grinding harshly to relieve the hardness in his pants. You heard his belt clink and clank as he undone it, quickly moving onto unzipping his belt and pushed his pants down.

He grabbed hold of your hips tightly and pressed himself against you roughly, groaning. "S’lovely..." He said lowly, looking at you with an intense look in his eye. His hands were shaking slightly as they gripped your thighs firmly, holding them apart. He watched the way his cock moved against your soft thighs; though he was an impatient man and then pulled your panties down to your knees.

You could only lay there and take it as he pushed his tip into your soaking-wet entrance. He pushed your legs further apart. And you momentarily stopped breathing as you focused on feeling him enter you fully. “Fuck...” You whispered, letting your cheek drop against the cold desk and closed your eyes.

His breath hitched when he felt how tight you were around him, gripping his shaft like a vice. "God fuck." He cursed under his breath, pushing deeper inside of you until he hit bottom. Your walls squeezed him painfully, making him grit his teeth. You felt so good—so fucking good every single time. He could never get enough of your sweet little pussy.

Your mouth opened further when you felt him bottom out. He was all the way inside of you, and he was so thick... it quite literally took your breath away every time you fucked. You couldn't see straight when you felt him pull out halfway and then push back in, this time pressing deeper and deeper, making you whine out and spread your arm out above you to grab the edge of the desk as some sort of anchor.

He groaned loudly, burying his hand into your hair as he began thrusting harder and faster now, slamming himself deep within you each time."Fucking hell..." His voice came out strained and low, sounding almost animalistic. "So fucking good... So goddamn perfect..."

You were crying out everytime he slammed into you. You couldn't move underneath him, couldn't utter a single word expect mewl out an unintelligible noise with every thrust he did into you. You could feel him all over you—gripping your hips for better leverage every now and then, in your hair when he felt like hearing your noises louder, on your neck...

His breathing grew heavier and more ragged as well, sweat dripping down onto your thighs below him. He leaned forward slightly, moving one hand firmly on your neck and the other snaked down to your wet pussy while continuing to pound away at you relentlessly. "Fuck... Fuck... Oh god..."

His fingers began to circle over your clit; intensifying the harsh pleasure you were already feeling and you were so close to cumming. You wanted to cum so bad, you needed it—the pleasure was too much for you, but oh god did it feel amazing. “Harry, I'm gonna...”

He growled deeply, pressing himself closer to you as he kept going at full speed. "Cum for me baby." He said harshly, biting down on your shoulder gently before pulling back again. "I want to hear you cum." He kissed your shoulder and began to rub his fingers faster of your clit.

You tensed around him again, you walls clenched his cock as it drove deeply inside of you over and over again at a rapid, hard pace; that mixed with the way his finger were circling over the bundle of nerves made you reach the peak point and you felt your hard climax drown you. You smacked your hand down onto the desk, gripping the edge hard as you screamed.

The sound of your orgasm echoed throughout the room, causing him to groan loudly. "Oh fuck!" He slammed into you harder than ever before, driving deep within you once more before shooting hot ropes of semen inside of you.

You were a mess as he rode out your orgasms, continuing to thrust into you to make sure all of his cum was deep inside of you. He kissed your shoulder and bit down to stifle his hot moans.

His breathing became heavy after coming so hard. " Fuck.” He muttered quietly, leaning forward to kiss your neck softly. "Such a good girl.”

[glacierclear]

ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH?

fuckboy!leon x gn!reader (maybe a few gendered terms oops)

content: hurt/no comfort, angst, arguments, passive aggression, mentions of drugs/alcohol

Your best friend is a fuckboy. He ditches you at a party. You argue. Maybe they were right about him.

[ao3 link]

They all tried to tell you. Every single one of them.

He’s bad news, don’t bother. You would scoff.

He’s nothing but a walking penis. He doesn’t care about anything. And you’d roll your eyes.

Every red flag. Every warning sign. Every flashing light. You refused to heed any of them. And you tilled, and you sowed, and you fed. And now? You were reaping.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. You’re a big kid. You don’t need a damn babysitter.” His hands remained clenched, balled up and shoved into the pouch of his hoodie. His posture was lax. Noncommittal. He stared into a wall, his expression detached and unreachable.

“When you called me up tonight to drag me to some stupid frat party, I at least expected you to like, stay with me,” you countered. “We weren’t even there for an hour before you up and ditched me. Streaking across campus like a moron.” The base of your neck throbbed, the fledgling burn of an oncoming migraine. Your clothes still reeked of burnt weed and the cloyingly pungent whiff of cotton candy vape smoke.

“You should be fucking grateful. Wouldn’t have gotten into that party without me. Shit was the best thrasher of the month.” He lifted his head, scorching you with that know-it-all smirk. It huffed the coals of your stomach. You felt like puking.

“I didn’t…oh my god, Leon. I didn’t go for the party. I thought you…I don’t know. I thought you actually wanted to hang out. Have a good night.”

Your fingers burrowed their way through the folds of your sheets and you stayed perched at the edge of your bed. Leon hovered at your doorway, barely present in the space of your dorm, his contour fuzzed with casting light.

He didn’t say anything. Your eyes pulsed and stung. “Look. I’m not mad, I just–”

“You should be.”

“What?”

It’s then that he finally dared to meet your eyes. Blue hues swallowed whole by the pitch of his pupils, seeking you past tendrils of mussed, blonde hair.

“You should be mad. Why aren’t you? Cuz’, you’re right. I fucking ditched you. Like a moron.” He flung the word back with acid and you winced away. “God forbid I have some fun, right? Forgot you’re too much of a buzzkill to actually have fun at a party.”

There’s a throttling impulse to scream at him. Tell him off for being unreasonable and kick his ass to the curb like last week’s trash. But you’ve danced to this song before. The repeating pattern and pervasive enigma of Leon’s refusal to invest himself; emotionally, or otherwise.

So, you sucked in a steadying breath, filled your lungs with patience, and spoke softly.

“It’s not just about the party,” you began, and passively, you noticed him shift. “I mean…streaking? You realize that if you got caught doing that…you wouldn’t have a scholarship anymore. Hell, maybe you’d be expelled.”

The realization settled on him like a poison and you caught his face darken. As much as he denied and disguised, Leon was a smart man. Excellent standing in his classes and a whopping GPA to match the third leg he swung in his pants. It meant a lot to him.

There’s a gap of silence before he opened his mouth again.

“...well, I wasn’t caught. And it was my choice. I don’t need you nagging me like a fucking mom, alright?” His body shrunk in on itself. Caging his softer parts from the reality he narrowly avoided. On a better day, perhaps you’d chase him. Push and fight for a break in his shell, a crevice that gave way to the man you knew he was capable of being. But, God, your head was shattering. Your nausea was worsening. You weren’t making progress.

“Right, well, sorry for caring, Leon,” you relented, turning away from him to click your phone into its charger. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother inviting me to any more parties.”

Your gaze left him, you weren’t fully aware of his body, but in the fleeting moments following your surrender he’s on you. Lurking above you like the baleful firmament of a roaring summer storm. You hardly had the time to open your mouth before he’s speaking. No, he’s growling. Revving the engine of his fury.

“...so that’s it? You’re not putting up with me anymore?” It could be the headache talking, but you swore you heard a tremble in his voice.

“Huh? The fuck are you–”

“We’re not friends anymore. That’s what you’re doing, right?” You searched the raging sea of his eyes for a raft. But all you did was drown. “I fucked up one too many times and now I’m just another shitty dude you had to put up with.” You watched the chipped black of his nails dig into his arms, tensed up limbs shielding him from what he’s most afraid you’ll confirm.

“Leon, that’s not…we’re still friends, okay? I just don’t want to go to parties like that anymore. Just give me a few days to cool off and we can…I dunno, we’ll hit up that burger joint you love.” It’s a pretty weak bargain, but maybe he’d bite.

And he did bite. He bit and he tore and he sought out blood.

“You’ve always had shitty taste in guys.” He practically spat at you, a scornful wrinkle deepening in the bridge of his nose. “Fucking stand up for yourself. You always let people walk all over you and act surprised when they turn out to be shitheads.”

He leaned in. You smelled him. Overpriced cologne. Underpriced shampoo. Crappy beer he drank even though he hated the taste. Despite it all, you yearned to hug him.

“Leon, I–”

“...and you know what? I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need your little dates. Your pity sex. I don’t need you looking out for my damn scholarships and I especially don’t need you making me look bad when I’m trying to let loose at the party I’ve been looking forward to all goddamn month.” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to bridge the chasm and devour his violence. If only he’d let you. But all he did was bite harder. “I won’t bother inviting you out anymore. Actually, I won’t bother talking to you at all. Have fun with your fucking life, I’m done being your fucking charity. Goodni–”

At the edge of his precipice, the void he dug for solace, Leon plummets. He straightened his spine, eyes widening and jaw hanging lifelessly. You were crying. Tears bursting without prejudice. Staining your face in vulnerability you so often only used to comfort him.

He went too far. And now, you were crying.

Neither of you moved for an eternity. From the hallway of your dorm, you hear the thundering trots of drunken friends laughing and yelling. The noise swelled and faded. The only evidence of a world beyond your room.

He called your name. His voice was so much quieter, held together with twine and stinging regret. You lifted your eyes and your throat barely allowed your words to pass.

“...Great job, Leon. Now I’m mad.” In an act of self-preservation, you tore your gaze away, burning a stare into the ground below his shoes. They’re blotched with dirt and chlorophyll, still damp from his midnight misdemeanor. “I won’t bother you anymore. If you hate me that much, I…I’ll leave you alone.”

His arms unfolded, one hand reaching out, a fragmented attempt to soothe you. But it was too late.

He repeated your name.

“I didn’t…fuck, I shouldn’t have said…hey–”

“Go home, Leon.” Your voice was unwavering, and he flinched back, your ire the open flame he’s too human to touch.

And then he left. Your dorm vibrated with the slam of the door, and you buried your face in your hands. In the place of his feet, soil stained your carpet. In the place of his warmth, sandalwood smoldered the air.

In the place of your love, all you wanted was to die.

[bubblyqueer000]

can i get headcanons for hajime, nagi, shuichi, and koki with a virgin s/o during their first time? like how the boys would react and kinks and comfort for a nervous s/o thnakss!! -👽anon

Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Shuichi Saihara, Kokichi Ouma x Nervous!Virgin!S/O First Time Headcanons

Protags and Antags!! EEEEEE WE LUB THEM!!

Enjoy!!

TW// Teasing, Degradation, NSFW, Choking, Hairpulling, Spanking

Shuichi Saihara

♡ Super nervous! 

♡ Knowing him, it would probably be his first time too and he’s spooked as hell so if you are too, he understands. 

♡ He starts by awkwardly kissing you because that’s as far as he’s ever gotten with his partner. After a few minutes, he gets the hang of it. 

♡ Lol I’ve said this about Leon before but Shuichi would probably also give great hugs and would be such a good cuddler. NBVGHJNBGVB Grant George’s casting type is cuddly boys LMFAO

♡ Probably very vanilla but he’s open to most things.

♡ I think Shuichi would probably be a switch with a bottomy lean. He just wants to do what makes you happy. 

♡ Shuichi is kind of basic in terms of positions. He only really cares to do missionary but the way that he does it is so loving and gentle. He holds you underneath him and hides his face in your neck. Like hugging with him on top of you so closely.

♡ After a few times together Shuichi really warms up to you and loses most of his anxieties.

♡ He’s a very hesitant top, but he’s willing. Shuichi doesn’t really know what to do as a top so he usually just asks what you want. He’s a service top!! We love him :3

Kokichi Ouma

♡ TEASING LITTLE BASTARD!!!

♡ Whether it’s your first time or your hundredth time, he’s constantly teasing you, physically or otherwise. Mostly about how nervous you are. 

♡ Now and then he would find some way to comfort you, but honestly, it wouldn’t last long. It’s usually something basic like gently stroking your face or a kiss on the forehead, before going right back to teasing you. 

♡ Unlike Shuichi, Kokichi claims that he has a very high body count (COUGH COUGH BULLSHIT) but you don’t know if you believe him. You didn’t believe him at all until he showed you how experienced he was. 

♡ Kokichi looooves to bite. Like choking and spanking are both fine, but above anything else, biting is his favorite. 

♡ He’s a major verse with no preference, but when he is bottoming… Did someone say brat? Despite him being a switch, Kokichi is always in control. 

♡ Kokichi uses toys on his partner a lot. Most commonly vibrators to tease you with but he’s open to most things.

♡ Also very into bondage. He loved the feeling of having control and knowing that he could do anything to you, with consent of course. 

Nagito Komaeda

♡ Overjoyed! Just crippling shock and happiness.

♡ Nagito underestimated how much you care about him. He always figured that he wasn’t good enough for his partner, being the ultimate lucky student amongst so many ultimates. You asking him made him feel so much more secure in your relationship.

♡ Nagi likes praising you while you degrade him. If you’re too nervous to dirty talk though, he teases you for it. Thinking aloud that an ultimate such as yourself should be more than capable of talking down to trash like him. He’s just teasing though and he certainly wouldn’t try to make you feel bad for it.

♡ In most cases though, he thinks it’s cute how nervous you get and he won’t mind making that clear to you. Imagine being so nervous in the middle of it all and having him whisper to you. 

♡ “Would you look at me, my hope?” Your eyes stayed clenched for only a moment, then shyly you glanced up at him. “How… Precious… Why so shy, my princess?” *Cue pussy backflip*

♡ Loves when his hair is pulled!! Especially when he’s giving oral or when he’s about to cum. It just makes it all the more satisfying to him. 

♡ Cuddles and praises you as aftercare always. No matter how many times you’ve done it.

Hajime Hinata

♡ Surprised but happy when you asked. Hajime had certainly thought about it before but was still shocked that you actually wanted to have sex with him, and even more so that a perfect girl like you had never done it before. 

♡ This puts a lot more pressure on him to make it pleasurable for you. It was your first time so he wanted to make it perfect.

♡ Hajime put tons of effort into making sure you were enjoying yourself. Beforehand, he wanted to talk about what you liked and didn’t. The last thing he wanted was to overstep boundaries, but man was he embarrassed to talk about them too. Still, he muscled through it on your behalf!

♡ Hajime seems like the type that would put your enjoyment before his own but he would be lying if he said he didn’t love receiving oral!! He doesn’t mind giving either but he is a man who loves his dick sucked (I’m twelve sorry.)

♡ His favorite positions are 69 and cowgirl. He’s the type who just adores it when you put all of your weight on him. He thinks it’s the hottest thing ever. Any position is good to him, but being ridden>

♡ Haji doesn’t strike me as the vocal type but when he does make noise, it’s a lot of grunting and gasping. His voice would grow deep and husky until his voice breaks out into a full-on growl.

♡ Always has his hands somewhere on you. Holding your waist, your hands, squeezing your chest, fingering you. He loves all of it, just touching you is perfect to him.

♡ Love youuu~

[kleftiko]

❦ PINK

cw: mature, gn!reader, blowjobs

overwhelming response on the poll for giyuu, so here you go my loves :)

"you’re cute," you say with an innocent smile. "i wanna eat you up."

giyuu stops in his tracks. rigged and almost terrified.

"what the fuck?" he says.

you shrug, "just saying."

he blinks.

"go away."

you step around his frozen body. "no need to be embarrassed."

"‘m not embarrassed." but the pink flush seeping into his cheeks says otherwise.

"why don’t you say something, then?"

"don’t have to." he regains his composure slightly and walks past you.

your steps follow after his easily, taking note of his haori-covered body and frowning. he had such a nice figure, you’re a bit upset you couldn’t gawk at it right now. unconsciously, your fingers trail along his shoulder, swiping off a piece of dirt. the man nearly jumps out of his skin.

"what the f—" he bites his tongue. "what’s wrong with you?"

you’re a bit confused.

"nothing’s wrong," you assure. "i just think you’re cute; is it that hard to believe?"

"yes." he deadpans.

his hand comes up to your shoulder and pushes you back. it’s not nearly as harsh or powerful as you’ve seen he’s capable of.

"you’ve never done anything with someone, have you?" you press, stepping in between him and the room door you’ve come to.

his gaze narrows, looking down at you with feigned hatred.

"leave." he nearly whispers, cheeks still pink. his breathing is faltering, not as confident as he usually presents himself.

you shake your head, "ask me nicely."

"no."

you let out a laugh.

"if you really want me to go, ask nicely. and i will leave you alone."

a beat passes. as giyuu stares hard into your eyes, you notice him slowly leaning forward. with a tilt of your chin, you catch his lips softly with yours. for such a straightforward guy, his kiss is reserved—shy even.

you can’t help but smile against him as you feel him step closer into your hold. his chapped lips are rough against your skin, but the eagerness that starts seeping out of the man in front of you makes it all okay.

when the two of you part, almost silently, he can’t bring himself to say anything.

"do you wanna continue?" you ask softly.

with eyes cast downward and a harsh blush, giyuu nods.

he follows you into his bedroom.

you’re gentle as you lead him to the bed, having him sit down as you crawl towards him. lips reattach with a bit more confidence this time as his rough hands flick impatiently against your leg. bringing your fingers to his chest gives him the push he needs to grasp your body.

pushing him back, his body coming into contact with the sheets, has him expressing his desperation for you a bit more. the heated make out session has him clutching the fabric of your clothes in his fists, pulling you as close to him as possible.

his lips chase yours when you part.

"can i make you feel good?" your breath is heavy. "please?"

he’s almost desperate in the way he nods his head.

your hands move quickly to undo his pants; his own are eagerly travelling along your figure as you kiss him. moving your lips down his body to follow the discarded clothes, you can’t help but nuzzle your nose into his warm skin.

his nearly silent whine catches your ears, and his arms cage you against him for a hug.

"you okay?" you ask, pressed tightly against him.

he hums, "please be gentle."

you’ve never heard him so vulnerable. it melts your heart to listen to his voice and understand that he’s giving himself to you.

"of course," you whisper, and he lets you leave his embrace to do what you want.

it’s slow, your ministrations, allowing for him to stop you at anytime. but he encourages you instead.

giyuu lets out a pleasurable sigh when you free his cock. he’s vocal and sensitive when you press your lips against his tip, and he nearly cries when you give a tentative lick.

his whole body is reacting when you put him in your mouth, like he can’t control the pleasure you’re giving him. and it’s exactly what you want; you want to give him everything.

but you need to be slow. in your own earnestness, when you take his whole length into your mouth, he gasps, his hand coming to the back of your head to still you.

"p-please," he whimpers. "wait."

your drool pools around the base of his dick, eyes looking up at him as you listen.

"i need… i need to get used to it."

his face is still pink, his eyes are almost watery, and his chest is breathing heavily. it’s almost painful having to keep your mouth around him, his tip lodged in your throat, but you hold out for his comfort.

when he gives you a nod to continue, you restrain yourself as best you can. the slight sound of a pop and the string of precum that connects to your lips when you release his cock have your eyes almost rolling back.

you waste no time going back down, your tongue eager to taste him as he spurs you on with his noises.

it gets sloppy, with the precum and your spit all over his dick and your chin, but at the moment you think it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. you keep going back for more, faster.

trying to breathe through your nose proves difficult; with his cock hitting the back of your throat constantly, the gags and sloppiness of the whole thing have you choking, but his whimpers and moans just make you keep going.

when you come up for some desperately needed air, you don’t even ask how he’s doing before going back down.

this time, you focus on the tip, letting your soaked hand stroke him as you lick and suck at his tip. you feel his thighs tense up.

"keep doing that," he pleads, and you keep the pace, feeling the slight contortions in his body as he gets closer to cumming.

he can’t exactly warn you when it happens; he’s too lost in this foreign feeling to give you a heads-up that he’s cumming down your throat, but you don’t mind. although it startles you and slips out from your lips to soil his pulled-down pants, he has no complaints.

you continue stroking him softly, only stopping when the stimulation gets too much and he places a hand over yours.

"wow," he breathes, and you smile.

[sehtoast]

Wash Away His Sins (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+ | 1.1k Shower sex, oral sex, mostly lovey with a light dusting of angst. gender neutral reader. | Fic Directory

He realizes it's the light in your eyes that consumes him the most.

The way you dance around him, unknowingly elegant in even your clumsiest moments. You flow through this world like calligraphy given a body.

The way you smile when he comes home. The way your hands find his bloodied cheeks, uncaring if his cruelty stains you.

The way you kiss him. The glint in your eye as you pull away.

"Let's get you cleaned up," you tell him.

And he nods. Lets you, bubbling sunshine that you are, dirty yourself in the viscera of his victims. All just to help him feel better.

There’s been blood on your hands before. But not like him. Not because you lost control. You were a true hero, and he was just…

Himself.

Whatever that may mean…

And yet, you still called him a hero. Reminded him of all the good he’s done– all that he’s capable of. Every time he comes home like this, he worries you’ll hate him. Cast him out, shun him for the unspeakable acts he’s committed with his own two hands.

But you don’t.

You lead him to safety. You wash him, pamper him. Comfort him.

Just like you do now.

Once upon a time, he was afraid to let you see all of him. Shamed by his lack. There was no perfect figure underneath. Those muscles weren’t real– weren’t him.

But you’d soothed those fears so long ago, well before falling into an unnamed relationship that simply couldn’t be less than that of two souls deeply, deeply in love. Where he was cruel, you were kind. The sheer power of your love, your kindness, rivaled the force of his bitterness with ease. In that duel, you always won. Always calmed him, brought him away from the brink.

Hell, you even relax the voice of his alter ego, whose goading was the very reason he was painted red.

He imagines the two of you were born from two stars, perfectly compatible, at opposite ends of the universe. And still, you found each other.

He shuts his eyes as you unzip the suit. The cold of your palm contrasts the near torturous heat contained in that suit. You are like a balm, soothing the fires both inside and out.

You strip him with care, stopping only to start the shower– but not too hot.

You know what they’d done to him in the labs, and you never made him feel irrational for avoiding reminders. He appreciates you endlessly, even if the words may never truly fall from his lips. Caught in his throat every time.

Caught now as you strip and lead him under the stream.

His hands are clean without his gloves, but he still hesitates to touch you. To anchor his hands at your hips while your fingers push through his hair, thick from product and crusted blood. The water runs pink down his back, down your arms, but you don’t grimace.

You don’t look at him differently. Except for when you do.

But that comes after.

After you work suds through his hair. After you lather his body, hands and fingertips dancing over him as though you meant to worship him. Left hand sliding back, fingers dipping down the curve of his rear. Right hand smoothing soap through the curls on his chest, his stomach, hips…

You don’t miss a single spot.

He imagines this is what it’s like to be a deity. To have someone stand before you and revere you.

Love you.

But, as much as he would claim otherwise, he is no deity. No god.

That title falls to you, instead. You are divine, in every sense of the word. You are the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the moon, the power of storms. You are sweetness under the press of his lips, the slide of his tongue. Soft as silk, yet as unbreakable as tungsten.

Your powers afford you the ability to survive him. It is the greatest gift Compound V could’ve ever given him.

It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to grip your waist harder when you finally find him half hard and yearning, pumping slowly. You finish cleaning him first, shower head in your hand to rinse him. Kisses pressed over the expanse of his chest, water sprayed teasingly between his legs.

He bites you when you grasp him again. He’d nuzzled against your shoulder and simply couldn’t help it. Your gasp makes him shiver.

The hand at his cock strokes, and he exhales tightly. His body feels weightless, but not like when he flies. He feels as though he could drift into space, in perfect bliss. Relaxed, comfortable, peaceful.

That is your true power– more than simply what Compound V gave you.

You quell an unfathomable swell of violence that hides within him. You bring light. You bring calm.

You bring love.

Love.

”I love you,” he rasps against your skin, hips pushing to fuck your fist. Your lips find his neck, and you nip and suckle and he yearns for a world in which you can mark him. Claim him just as he does to you. A wavering moan escapes his lips, and he’s close. He has half a mind to hike your leg up and take you, but you fall to your knees before he can finish the thought.

He has to lean against the wall when your lips wrap around him. The sight of you on your knees, worshiping him, his cock disappearing inch by inch into your mouth leaves him panting heavy breaths that steam into the air.

Your name falls from his lips when he nudges the back of your throat, and you just keep taking him. More and more, a hand at his balls, the other splayed over his abdomen.

His eyes roll back, but not before the heat in them sizzles and evaporates the water droplets surrounding them. His hips rock forward, and he’s so close. It would be so easy to grip your head and fuck you with all of his might. You could, after all, withstand him.

But you��re so tender with how you handle him. He wants to return it. Wants to touch and act with love.

So he lets you have full control. A hand petting through your hair as your tongue laves over him. A pinched expression as you send him higher and higher, until he’s teetering on the brink of release and oh, how he needs it. Needs you.

Your name is on his lips when he accepts it and comes. When that hand mindlessly pulls your head closer and he spurts down your throat, groaning loudly as he thrusts shallow.

When he slips free, it is to fall to his knees. To embrace you, to kiss the taste of himself from your lips– lick it from your mouth.

”I love you.”

You say it back, of course. Between kisses, between giggles. His eyes are soft, and the smile that tugs at his kiss bitten lips is more beautiful than any sunrise the cosmos could ever paint.

The water will run cold by the time he returns your love tenfold.

[sir-kuroo]

.—♡ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌!𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 {KUROO TETSUROU}

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ f!reader, married, cunnilingus, fingering, ahegao, creampie; groom!kuroo (sfw)

groom!kuroo fights the urge to slide his tongue into your mouth when it’s declared that he may now kiss his bride. He does it so in the car on the way to your reception; kisses you deeply and sucks on your tongue as his hands itch to take you out of your dress;

groom!kuroo brings your hand on his crotch under the table so you can feel how ready he is to fuck you when you’re finally alone;

groom!kuroo who, before sliding the garter out of your leg, licks and suckles a little of your flesh, giving you a teaser of what’s about to come;

groom!kuroo is a tease when you finally get into the bedroom. Kneels before you and gets inside your dress, tongue and fingers stimulating your pussy; he caresses your thigh while your other leg is draped over his shoulder as you grind against his fingers and mouth; tasting your sweet juices, you writhe above him in orgasm; with a sly grin, he looks up at you wiping his chin.

He carries you to the bed and plants tentative kisses against your neck; no longer capable to hold it anymore. He hikes up the skirt of your dress and unzips his fly; he leans down to passionately kiss you as he casts the crotch of your panties to the side and enters from you from behind. His hands are squeezing your ass and using them to maneuver your body in meeting his thrusts.

“Aaah! Tetsu...ahhh~” you cooed as he hits you deep; the tip of his cock kissing your womb. You just came and still sensitive. Your body trembles as another wave is rushimg in.

“How does it feel huh?” He groaned, and pulled out of your pussy. “How does your husband’s cock feel?” Then he slammed it all in so hard, so strong, so forceful that your eyes almost crossed as you gripped the sheets. “Tetsu–“

His hips snap wildly as your walls clench. “Fuck augh- love! You feel so fucking good–“ He almost growled as he orgasms, spilling his cum in your wifey pussy.

You both breathed heavily and he leans close to kiss you so sweetly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said.

And you feel him harden while still inside you.

groom!kuroo who almost never lets you sleep as he fucks you all night long; making love ‘til you’re both passed out in the dawn.

JOIN THE 🍷 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄! Get tagged whenever I update ♡

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

[feyascorner]

7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind. 

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’ 

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–”

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t—”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat. 

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.” 

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence—one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings. 

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter. 

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid. 

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry. 

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles. 

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

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[hgfictionwriter]

Ache - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: After all the angst and longing, you and Jessie continue to make up for lost time. She still has to make you hers again, after all.

Warnings: Heavy on the smut, my friends. Language warnings as well.

A/N: Final chapter of the series. Thanks for sticking with me! If you need to, catch up on Part One (no smut) and Part Two (18+).

Gif credit to @glimmerofawesome.

Your legs trembled as you stood, but Jessie was there with an arm around you to steady you. “I’ve got you,” she said sweetly, though you spied the pleased glint in her eyes over your state.

She couldn’t help it if she was at least a little proud of the effect she had on you, especially after all this time.

She grinned at you as she leaned down and hooked an arm underneath your knees to hoist you into her arms. You blushed.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking, you know,” you complained lightly as she carried you to the bedroom. She glanced down at you mischievously.

“I’m not so sure about that.” She laughed as you swatted at her.

“Jess!”

“Yes, babe?” She asked innocently as she only half heartedly tried to hide her smile. You rolled your eyes affectionately and you couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at your lips.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled good-naturedly. She grinned at you once more as she set you down on the bed.

“Actually, I think I might be the best,” she quipped with feigned realization.

“Oh my God,” you muttered as you covered your face. “I’ve created a monster.” You heard her laugh.

You removed your hands to look at her again when you felt the bed shift as she kneeled on it. Your smile lingered and your hands automatically came up to cup her face as she began to crawl up your body. Warmth radiated from your chest as you took in the shading of her cheeks, her freckles and the hint of a cocky smirk on her lips.

“Although, if you’re not convinced that I’m the best, I guess I’ll just have to make a point of proving it to you.” Her voice was husky as she leaned in and kissed you.

“Yeah? We’ll see about that,” you teased and reached down to tug at her shirt. “You are way too covered up for my liking. Come on, beautiful.” She grumbled impatiently, but complied and kissed you as you removed her clothes. She glanced at her shirt in your hand before you cast it aside.

“I want you to wear my shirt every morning,” she told you, her eyes growing dark and intense again as she took you in. “I can’t get over how sexy you are walking around in my clothes.”

You smiled and cupped her rosy cheeks as you kissed her. You loved when she was like this.

“That can be arranged.” You bit your lip as you let your hands wander and trace over her toned muscles. “God, you’re even sexier than I remember.” Her gaze flicked away coyly for a moment before she looked back, giving you the most charming of smirks.

“You’re one to talk,” she returned. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you if I tried right now.” Her hand began to move up your thigh in a kneading motion and she began kissing down your chest. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You bit your bottom lip and your head rolled back as her tongue came out to tease your nipple. She grinned as your breath hitched and she closed her mouth around it in a slow kiss that finished with a light tug.

You ran your fingers through her hair, playing with the soft waves as she continued. Her other hand came up and began massaging your other breast and pulling a soft moan from you.

She continued her ministrations, but soon your mouth fell agape as she began to run her fingers through your slick folds and tease your entrance. You writhed under her in anticipation, feeling yourself grow wetter with each passing moment.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice as she continued to trace faintly around you, even pulling back now and then. You huffed in frustration and gripped her hair.

“Stop teasing me, Jess,” you whined.

“Why?” She retorted with a fleeting touch across your clit and a pointed tug of your nipple with her mouth, teeth grazing.

“Because I’m dripping wet for you,” you said impatiently. It was true - and you knew what she wanted to hear, it wasn’t the first time she made you beg, but you needed her more desperately than ever.

“I can tell,” she chuckled as she ran two fingers through your folds before pulling back altogether.

“Baby, please,” you whined again, the need so evident in your voice as you pulled her to you and lifted your hips up in a vain attempt to meet her.

She tutted her disapproval before leaning in to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth.

“Tell me what you really want,” she whispered.

Your hips rolled up wantonly as you desperately sought her touch, but she refused. When you looked at her, her gaze was piercing and she studied you like prey.

“Jessie,” you groaned, again writhing beneath her.

“Come on, Princess,” she said in a hushed tone. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”

You wrapped an arm around the back of her shoulders and pulled her more firmly towards you. She relented and began kissing your neck. You tilted your head towards her, your lips grazing her ear as you spoke.

“I want your fingers inside of me. I want you to fuck me. I want you to claim me.” An eager sigh escaped you as you felt her tense up and a low tone emanated from her chest. “I want you to fuck me so good that the thought of leaving you could never cross my mind. I want you to make me cum so hard that I know no one could ever please me the same.” She continued to moan at your words and started slowly grind her hips against you. You trailed your tongue along the outside of her ear. “Make me scream your name.”

You released a cry as she plunged into your soaking tunnel. While she was withholding and teasing a few moments before, now she was strong and deliberate as she entered you with powerful thrusts.

The sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of you filled the room immediately and you groaned in pleasure as she filled you and stretched you in the most delicious of ways. Your legs instinctively widened to invite her in further.

"Fuck. This pussy is so fucking good," she growled through grit teeth. “And it’s all fucking mine.” Her breath was ragged as she loomed over you and she watched as you rocked up and down on the bed with each stroke from her. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“You’re not allowed to,” you told her in rasping breaths as you clung desperately to her, already starting to feel a slight sheen of sweat beginning to form on her skin as she fucked you animalistically.

“That’s fucking right, babe,” she said as she nipped at your neck. Her tone softened. “I belong to you.”

"I missed you so much," you told her, clutching her to you as best you could as she rocked back and forth above you with forceful, yet fluid movements punctuated by her sinking into you and bottoming out at her knuckles.

"You're the only girl for me," Jessie professed as she panted above you.

“Oh my God,” you said in a shuddering voice. You wrapped your legs tightly around her waist. “Give me more, Jessie. I need you.”

“Anything for you,” she promised as she added a digit and stretched you out more. Your jaw fell at the sensation. “You feel so good around me,” she said as she thrusted into you. “It’s like you were made for me.”

Your moan echoed off the walls. Jessie, who was so normally reserved and quiet, passionately fucking you into the mattress and whispering declarations of love and devotion in such a primal sense was sending you over the edge.

"I missed you." Jessie's voice was soft, sad almost, and a vast contrast to how she was pumping into you with such fervour that the headboard banged rhythmically against the wall.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stared down at you intensely. Her eyes were clouded over with lust, but behind that there was unmistakable tenderness and emotion. And something you hadn't really seen from her before in bed, a hint of uncertainty.

"Are you mine?" She asked, her eyes searching yours.

You pulled her closer and gave her a deep kiss she eagerly reciprocated.

"Of course I'm yours," you told her. "You're the only one for me. Always will be.” It was hard to think as she pressed into your sweet spot with continuous strokes, but it didn’t take much to conjure up your feelings for her. Regardless of if a year had passed or if it had only been a few days, being with her felt so natural and at the same time as if you’d been starved of her touch and desperate for relief.

“Whether you’re with me or not, my heart is yours, Jess.” You kissed her tenderly. “My body, too. No one could make me feel this way.”

Jessie’s breaths grew heavier and her pace quickened, drawing a series of moans from you.

“Baby,” you panted. “I’m so close.”

Soft grunts came from Jessie as she pumped into you. Her shuddering and heavy breaths were in your ear as she continued to move exquisitely above you. It drove you wild.

“I’m so wet for you, babe,” she told you as she continued to rock into you. “Being inside of you, your body against mine, the sounds you make,” she exhaled sharply and rolled her forehead against yours, “fucking everything. You get me so hot. I don’t know how you do it. I swear I’m gonna cum just from fucking you.”

Everything together - the way she was pleasuring you, her words, the emotions, the ecstasy at being together again after the heartbreak of being apart - it was overwhelming. In the best of ways.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your core began to spasm and you convulsed around Jessie’s fingers. A guttural moan ripped through your throat before Jessie’s name began to fall from your lips like an enamoured chant.

Jessie’s grunts and whimpers were a distant sound as your orgasm continued to quake through you. Only once you both slowed and started to come down did you realize how your nails dug into her skin.

“Oh fuck,” you managed, your voice weak as your chest heaved up and down. Jessie’s back was slick with sweat and her head fell heavy against your shoulder. She laid slow, sweet kisses along your collarbone as she, too, worked to catch her breath. Your legs trembled as the aftershocks continued.

“God, that was amazing. If you thought I couldn’t walk before…,” you trailed off with a chuckle. She kissed you and gave a sly smirk.

“What can I say? You inspire me.”

“Wouldn’t everyone be so shocked to learn that you actually can take a compliment.” She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“And what can I say?” She repeated. “I don’t mind when they come from you. You’re the exception.”

It took a while before either of you made a move to break your embrace. Neither of you wanted to let go. But eventually, after ongoing declarations of love and longing, you both laid there in comfortable silence until you’d both recovered.

Given how you were cuddled into her, how warm and safe you felt in her arms - and no denying - having been well and thoroughly fucked, your eyelids were starting to grow heavy. You lay a chaste kiss on her chest and stifled a yawn.

“Do you have to be up early tomorrow?” You asked. She fidgeted slightly.

“No…do you?” She asked as she tilted her head slightly to peer over at you.

You nodded your head coupled with a slight groan of complaint. “Mhm. I have work.”

“Oh,” she said simply as her gaze returned to the ceiling.

“You can sleep in,” you told her before smirking. “I know you said you want to see me in your clothes, but you can borrow mine tomorrow.”

She looked over again, this time in a way that drew your attention. You opened your eyes to see her watching you with the sweetest furrow of her brow.

“You don’t mind if I spend the night?” She asked with veiled hopefulness.

You leaned up on your elbow to look down at her with a loving, but amused smirk.

“Baby. You could move in tomorrow if you wanted to. I need you to hear me - I’m all in. Besides, we were talking about it before. And it would help us spend more time together despite our schedules.”

A smile slowly grew across her face and she pulled you down into a kiss.

“Be careful what you wish for. You know I’m going to reorganize your bookshelf. And the kitchen cupboards. And-”

You cut her off with a kiss. “Whatever you like, baby. I just want us to have a place we can call ours.”

A small yelp escaped you as she suddenly hugged you tightly to her.

“You make me so fucking happy. You know that, right?” She asked when she relaxed her grip and pulled back enough to give you a watery smile.

“I intend to keep it that way,” you assured her as you lay your head back down on her chest. She kissed the top of your head.

"I was so scared when I came over," she told you quietly as she traced along your shoulder absently. "I didn't know if you were going to turn me away - it wouldn't have been all that unlikely." She laid a lingering kiss on your crown once more. "I'm so glad I tried though."

"I'm grateful you did, too," you reciprocated as you gave her a light squeeze. "Although I have this feeling that even if you didn't tonight, we would've found our way back to one another eventually."

She smiled. "I think you're right." A few moments passed and she let out a quiet sigh. “You sure you have to go to work tomorrow?” She ventured. She squirmed a bit and went on in a hushed tone. “I don’t want you to go.”

The admission made her blush. She knew it was unreasonable, and she of all people knew the importance of accountability and responsibility, but you had a way of making her feel safe to express things she’d normally rather die over than confess.

“I have to,” you told her, but offered a sweet kiss in consolation. “But if you’re not doing anything, you could always come meet me for lunch?”

“Okay.” She nodded her acceptance with a bit of a grumble. “And I know you have to - and should,” she relented. Her gaze shifted about shyly and she laced your fingers together, caressing the back of your hand with her thumb. “I just don’t want to miss you.”

Your heart swelled at her proclamation. You loved this woman. You adored this woman. And despite her usual independence, she could be clingy. Always respectful and in the cutest of ways, but clingy. Thankfully, you loved it.

“I know, baby. But now, we have all the time in the world.”

[angelltheninth]

Class 1-A Boys Being Protective of You

Pairing: Izuku Midorya, Bakugo Katsuki, Eijirou Kirishima, Tenya Iida, Denki Kaminari, Shoto Todoroki, Mashirao Ojiro, Fumikage Tokoyami x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, comfort, soothing kisses, protectiveness, slight threats, public display of affection

A/N: Had this one in the draft for the longest time and it was mostly finished anyway, so me being sick I decided to finish this cause honestly I need some wholesome stuff to think about right now.

Deku knows a little something about people being bullies or just being pushy with what they want. He want through a lot because of that and won't tolerate such behavior in the slightest.

Before he might have been more meek or quiet but not anymore. Not when he has something, someone to fight for and protect. He's not the violent type though so he'd try to, and succeed very easily, at being menacing with his Quirk sparking around him and scaring your bullies away.

Bakugo has an explosive temper as is. He has gotten a lit better at controlling it but do you think he'd be able to hold back if he saw people being mean to you? Hell no.

He's already grabbing them by the shoulders and screaming into their face to back the fuck off or else the Number One Hero and his classmate won't be the only ones with burn marks. Once they run away with their tail between their legs he calls them morons before turning to you and wrapping his arms around you in a protective guesture.

Like Bakugo, Kirishima has a hot temper but he's more fired up about protecting you than beating living crap out of whoever is talking bad about you. That doesn't mean that he won't throw a few punches as a warning though.

Honestly one angry look from him combined with his body hardening can send most people packing. If it doesn't he will throw down no problem, ain't no way someone disrespecting you and getting away with it.

Tenya can act on impulse when he's really pumped up about something but he mostly maintains a cool head. He wants to prove himself as a worthy hero and boyfriend so when you walk together his protective instincts go into overdrive.

He keeps his arm around you, smiling at you the whole time and talking loudly and energetically, lifting up your mood. Even if someone does try to approach and they display bad intentions he can easily remove both of you from the situation by using his Quirk without causing much of a ruckus.

Denki is super high energy but he's also got an ego that can easily rival that of Bakugo. Because of that he often assumes that by his reputation alone no one will try anything funny with you.

If that does happen, while he can sometimes act like he doesn't handle fight situations the best no opponent is to powerful or intimidating when it comes to your safety. He'll even make himself go overboard if need be but that doesn't happen that often. He's very good at comforting you after the fact and does whatever he possibly can to take your mind off the incident, even if that means acting a little silly in the process. Doesn't matter, anything for you.

Shoto is very level-headed unless provoked. Angering him is like asking for trouble and people do it anyway just because they want to see a reaction from Endevor's son. Usually he doesn't mind however when you're involved it's a whole different story.

He will gladly show them what he's capable of by turning up the heat around them enough to make them sweat bullets while he shields you from it with his ice and body. Immediately after they're gone he'll pull you into a soft kiss and ask if you're alright, cupping your face in his hand like you're his whole world.

Ojiro might be a kind and gentle soul towards most people but he won't stand by while his girlfriend gets talked down to by jerks. He pulls you to his side with his tail and holds you to his chest, casting a deadly look to the people who were bothering you.

He'd rather settle it without resorting to violence but hey if they're being pushy he'll push right back. Hard. He's got enough sense not to go too hard on them, he doesn't want to kill them, but he roughs them up enough so they never think about harassing anyone ever again.

Tokoyami is a hard person to get to, his withdrawn demeanor sometimes makes even you guess what he's thinking. That being said there's no doubt at what he's thinking when he's face to face with your bullies.

People are scared of him already so combined with his Quirk he can look like the stuff of nightmares, or dreams if it you. Since he obtained his flying ability he's gotten better at taking you away from harm before things escalate too much but he can't guarantee that he won't make your bullies think twice about approaching you when he's around.

[prettyboykatsuki]

no need to thank me, yours for the taking | shadowheart

✮ tags ; dom + gender-neutral reader, sub!shadowheart, established relationship, first time subbing / bottoming, some bratting, praise, rope-play, foreplay, fingering, squirting, 18

✮ wc ; 3.5k

✮ synopsis ; shadowheart isn't like this with just anyone. but you make it all too easy to be on her knees

✮ a/n ; hello!! this is for a lovely commissioner who i will keep anon!! please be kind abt my shadowheart characterization its my first time but im firm in believing shes a soft brat. title from lyk dis by Nxworries !!

minor spoilers for her story but very vague!!

You’ve never gone back on your word. 

Sharran practice, to Shadowheart, is a lie within itself. There is more to life than darkness, than pain, than obsidian night. Sharran practice does not promote the practices of deceit. But the territory of secrecy, concealment, is that lying is common practice. A beautiful, painful, empty lie. 

And of course, her goddess herself, lied to Shadowheart about her own existence for her entire life. She almost expects it now. That someone she loves so dearly will lie to her, and that everything will be pulled from her feet once again. 

You don’t lie to Shadowheart, though. Never about anything important. She believes you when you tell her you love her. Or when you say you won’t leave. Or when you say that you don’t mind adopting more animals, or tending to the gardens or having her parents over for dinner. 

When the wound on her hand burns hotly, you always hold it for her. When you tell Shadowheart you want to take care of her, she wants to believe you. 

It’s hard though. The intimacy makes it harder. The vulnerability of touch, pleasure frightens her - so she instead reverts to old practices of having you listen to her every word. She takes and takes and takes, on her own terms and you don’t mind. 

But because you don’t lie, you always tell her - that you’d like to take care of her just once. That you’d prefer to take the lead and make her feel good, if she’d let you. You’d like to try it with her, and her reply is always cheeky and deflective. 

If Shadowheart was more capable of honesty, she might’ve told you she wanted it earlier. It’s too hard, so you don’t push her. Except, she sees you among the large Rothe with your sleeves pushed to your elbows, and sweat down your brows. There, you’re just as gentle and thoughtful as always, and the sun shines down like it was always yours.

Strangely, it’s what makes her want to admit it to herself. That she wants you to touch her the way you always talk about. It’s unlike her to be timid, where she’s usually so coy - but it’s different with this in particular.

(She wonders, is it easy for anyone? To admit that they want to be adored? She finds herself envious of that kind of person.) 

So she admits it to you, and because you’re always honest - you smile and kiss and thank her. Trap her in your arms and don’t let her squirm away from your touch as you tell her over and over that you’ll be so good to her. 

She believes you. 

If she didn’t, there’s no way she’d be here for you like this. 

The soft glow of candlelight casts a golden hue on your face, your expression tight from focus. Her chest feels warm and achy looking at you through the mirror. 

“Is tying me up really necessary?” She presses. You look up at her through your lashes with a smile that seems smarmy.

“You’ll try to get your way if I don’t.” You reply, so nonchalant about the accusation she’s offended by it. Nearly. The slight lift in your brow, the smugness of knowing you’re right, sends her somewhere else though. 

Her heart races at your touch, more now than before. She’s naked beside her panties, skin hot to the touch. Her nipples are hard, a lust pooling in her stomach as you ignore her pout and go back to your rope work. She pushes back on your claim once her nerves settle again. 

“What? Are you afraid I’ll take it back from you?” She taunts. 

This time, your smile is soft and gentle. 

“No. Not at all.” 

You slide your fingers through the rope cuffs behind her that you’ve managed to tie only looking once. Her frown deepens and you laugh, standing in front of her and reaching towards her to wipe the crease in between her brows. 

“Too tight?” 

She shakes her head again, perplexed at all the ways you touch her. She doesn’t dislike it. She just doesn’t know what to expect. There are rules and she can stop when it’s too much. She knows all of that. The most nerve wracking part is how unreadable you feel. How you know her intimately enough to know she wants to fight with you. 

That you’re confident enough about her mannerisms that you don’t think she’d win. It sends butterflies swarming in her abdomen, heat running across every ridge of her spine. She glances at you now with a keen awareness of her position. Naked, vulnerable, helpless. Her breath hitches as the anxious feeling sparks. 

Then you call her. 

“Breathe, my heart,” You murmur, so carefully it startles her. She’s never like this. Not with anyone. No such person has existed that’s made her want to be like this. “You’re safe with me.” 

Your eyes lock, and there’s so much tenderness in your gaze her stomach twists again even tighter. She’d whimper if she was dazed enough to make the sound. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” 

She rolls her eyes. She’s all too aware of how petulant it is, but she can’t bring herself to stop. You don’t reprimand her. 

“As if you need to ask.” 

“Of course I do. I want to hear you say it,” Your reply is firm. Stern, maybe - if you’re capable of such a thing. You step closer to her, your eyes meeting. “Tell me you want me to take care of you,” 

It feels like an impossible ask. The fire in your gaze cuts away at whatever is left of her bratting. She’s only seen you be so serious when you were cutting down fiends on your journey together. Your hand slips against her waist, palm against her stomach with your fingers starting to grip tight. You lean in close to her, still looking. She wavers. 

“I want,” Your hand reaches up for her face, cupping her cheek as she talks. She doesn’t know what aspect of it is more humiliating. The way she’s folding underneath the pressure or the restless excitement that follows the sound of your voice when you talk to her like that. Kind, always, but demanding too. “I want you to take…care of me,” 

You smile at her, press your lips to her forehead and pepper them all along her face with a brilliant smile. Your hand secures around the nape of her neck, tilting her head up to look at you

“Wasn’t too hard, was it? My good girl,” Your foreheads brush. Immediately the rope gets in the way of everything. She wants to hug you, and maybe you’re aware because your smile goes characteristically tender again “You look like you want to cling onto me,” 

In this state, she can’t hide away. She tucks her chin. 

“Where’s your discretion? Don’t say it so blatantly,” 

“It’s cute,” You offer her, as if that makes it any better. “Not yet. When I’ve gone and made you ditzy enough to whine about it, I’ll let you.”

After that, you kiss her. You use both hands to cup her face this time, and Shadowheart lets herself melt into it. Your breath is faint with the taste of wine, tongue sweet and aching as you kiss her slow and deep. All you do is kiss her, but you’ve never kissed her like this before. She’d remember something so salacious. You lead her through it, guide her with pace and practice. The rope around her wrists feel tighter, even though they’re not. Bound behind her back, exposed to you. 

So little between you and she’s already aching to touch you.

“You have to be patient,” It’s like you read her mind, your nose brushing with hers “Patient and obedient and good. Can you be good?” 

She stares at you when you talk. She can’t help but be pulled into your pace. 

“...Hmph. I can be…good,”  

“Mm,” You sit on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, and Shadowheart turns to watch you. There’s just enough room for her to seat herself between your legs. The message is clear immediately, as you pat your inner thigh expectantly and smile. She feels her whole body go flush with embarrassment “Sit. With your back towards me, okay?” 

She debates it for a while. You look so sincere towards her, so kind. Walking slowly towards you, she turns and sits down between your legs. Her bound arms and back hit your chest as you pull her closer, your hands immediately go around to her chest. You cup her tits from behind, your chin resting on her shoulder as you squeeze the soft flesh between your fingers. 

Your hands are burning, calloused from wielding weapons. In a low murmur, your voice brushes against the shell of her ear again. Whispery and soft like willows.

“Good girl,” You praise, kissing the space between her neck and shoulders. “You’re so beautiful. No wonder the gods fought over you.” 

Your fingers brush over her nipples, and Shadowheart finds herself arching. It’s the first touch that’s been direct where she needs it. You rub circles, pinching and rolling as she starts to squirm as your lips press against her shoulder. Her body pricks with heat, every nerve on fire as she starts to feel the dull thrum of lust pooling in her belly. 

So little has happened yet, but her head feels light. More. She wants more of you. 

The voice of greed in the back of her mind is so new it scares her, but your touch distracts her from the swarm of thoughts threatening to topple everything over. Dexterous fingers make goosebumps appear all along her skin. 

“Aah,” She moans and shudders, her hands tightening where they’re restrained. “Ngh,” 

“You’re so sensitive here,” Your  voice is awe filled. “How cute,” 

It’s too much focus. Concentrated touches on the tender, hardened buds are enough to make her mind go haywire. They’re a part of her body you’ve always liked, keeping your mouth latched onto them no matter what position you’re in. You already know how euphoric it makes her feel, and your touch goes on forever. Toying with them, precious and sensitive, as the feeling starts coming to a steady incline Her clit is throbbing against the seam of her panties. The rest of her body begs for more attention. Instinctively, she closes her legs to relieve the pressure, but you’re quick to stop her. 

“You don’t get to decide that, remember,” You remind her, your leg locking hers from crossing. She swears loudly. “If you want something, you ask me.”

“Is it not obvious what I want?”

“Good girls ask politely.” You remind.

“As if I’d answer something so —aah, apparent,”

Your hand reaches up to turn her head, a hand on her throat as you force her to look at you. Your grip isn’t tight. Your eyes lock with hers, barely an inch of space between you. You have that serious look again. She almost rescinds it but she’s too stubborn to let it go. 

“Then sit and take what I give you.” You state, voice dressed with steel. There’s unmistakable care in them, but they make it clear that you expect Shadowheart to do more than listen. You expect her to behave.  “You have two options. You can ask politely, for something. Or you’ll sit and take just as much as I give you. Is that clear?” 

She wriggles against your lap, squirming aimlessly for some kind of friction. Shadowheart is strong but you’re stronger, more agile - and any attempt at taking what she wants is shot down just as quickly. She lays her head against your shoulder, struggling to look up at you. She pouts and remains silently. 

Your hands have graduated to a soft massage of her tits, not even giving her direct attention. Her frown deepens. 

“You’re—why aren’t you touching me at all?” 

You’re quick to reply. 

“Because you haven’t answered me. What do you want to do?” 

It dawns on her too late that you intend to abide by these rules so strictly. She’s lost her stamina for this kind of endurance because of you, Sharran torment be damned. The fact you’d make her wait troubles her. You always give her what she asks for, in everything. The muscle memory to keep herself together has degraded, made her weak to your touch, more than normal. She’s not like this. 

“You’re serious.” She says, less than asks. 

She can feel your cheeky smile against her shoulder. You slide your hand down the plane of her body before settling between her legs, middle fingers going over the cottony fabric. Shadowheart shivers, laying against you.

“I want you to,” Her voice isn’t much more than a croak “I want you to touch me down…there.” 

“Say please,” 

“You—!,” She closes her eyes in mild exasperation before sighing “Please.” 

“Good girl,” You praise affectionately “You’re pink all the way up to your ears. How sweet,” 

“Would you please shut up?” 

There’s no response to her words. You use your hands to tuck into the waistband of her underwear, dragging them off. Shadowheart uses her remaining unbound limbs to help you. Naked with her legs spread over your lap, her heart races as your hand rests on her tummy. You angle downwards, covering her whole sex. You dig your palm against her clit with barely there friction - an involuntary whimper leaving her lips. 

You have a stunning amount of control over your movements, well practiced with every angle of her body. She’s made you that way, but she never thought it would be so easily used against her.

You tease like that in fair strokes. Your other hand cups the front of her throat, dragging your thumb along the thumping pulse of her heart. You’re kind enough not to say anything about how loudly it thumps, how shaky she’s breathing. Shadowheart makes a soft noise of want as your fingers drag through her sticky folds. Gathering her arousal on the tips of your fingers until you stop at her clit. She’s throbbing so much it’s painful, wet enough that it’s pooling underneath her tacky sheets. Embarrassing.

She gasps at the slow, smooth circles you rub her clit with. Familiar and controlled, a warm feeling of pleasure starts to spread through her stomach. Her head feels light, fluttery as she drops herself even further into you. 

She wants more. This time though, she’s hyper aware of the fact she has to ask or you won’t give her more than this. She wants to cum and she wants it to be hard and fast. She just wants you in some unmanageable way. 

“Your fingers,” She manages through a broken wheeze “Please. I want your hands, please.” 

Your pause before laughing good naturedly at her. She swears under her breath. 

“Stand up and turn around, baby.” 

She huffs about it unhappily, but listens because the ache that’s starting to form is proving to be too much to fight against. You move yourself around and make room for her to sit in your lap again, this time facing you. She gets the message quickly enough, turns and straddles you on shaky legs. You use your hands to guide her in the position you want her in, hips held up enough for you to sneak your hand underneath her. 

“You’re being such a good girl now,” You tease “Did you finally reach your breaking point?” 

Her voice is clipped, comes out as a hard whine. She wants to wrap her arms around your neck and hold you. She wants to move freely but she can’t. And it’s hard. Cumbersome. She’s not at her breaking point, but her neediness is finally outweighing her embarrassment. It’s the way you exercise your authority that’s making all of it too hard.

“No,” She mumbles, as bashful as someone like her could even be “But…touch me,” 

“Of course, my love.” 

Shadowheart lets her eyelids droop when she feels your hands again. You cover your fingers in saliva as you settle underneath her sex. Your fingers are thicker and longer than hers. They feel different at this angle. You start with your middle finger. Shadowheart braces for entrance as she feels you push inside her tight hole. Your hand is steady and slow as you slow inch your first finger into her. They’re cool compared to the tight, wet heat of her cunt. She’s so turned on there’s hardly any resistance. Your middle finger curls as it bottoms out, down to the knuckle as you pause and let her get adjusted to the sensation. It doesn’t last long, patience wearing thin - she moans out for you, another muffled please.

You listen to her, at least. You give her another finger, your ring finger this time - repeat the process. Fucking her slow and deep until you’ve reached our knuckle, letting her hole stretch out around you and pumping inside until there’s no longer and resistance at all. 

“More?” You ask. Shadowheart trembles and nods her head. 

“More,” 

You give her another one, your pointer - and that’s finally what makes her feel full. She shakes in your grasp as you secure her waist with your free hand. The roundest part of your palm pushes up against her sex, clit throbbing as her head gets light. She’s so stretched out. You curl your fingers inside her, pressing and searching until you hit the right spot. 

She moans brokenly as soon as you find it. Your fingers curl against the spongy area, silken walls clamping down and pulsing on your hand. 

You kiss her sternum, angling to take one of her tits in your mouth as you start to find a rhythm. Shadowheart leans in naturally, letting more of her weight fall on you. She can feel the heat start to prick against her skin as you find a pace to fingerfuck her with. You start gently at least, giving her time to adjust. 

When you hit a rhythm, you’re no longer so gentle. Your fingers fuck her open ruthlessly, her cunt made a wet mess from arousal. The room fills with the sound of it, making her body flush with embarrassment. Pleasure starts to overwhelm her, the sound of her own voice lost in the vulgarity of your touch. Her body rocks slowly, abdomen clenched as her body starts to tense up. Little jolts of unabashed pleasure start to rack up into full waves of need. 

Her head feels heavy, tongue too big for her mouth. Drawn out and winded up to the point it’s painful, the actual full touch is as overwhelming as it is good.

“I’m gonna—it’s,” 

You click your teeth. “Not until you ask sweet girl,” 

Shadowheart feels like she could nearly cry. God, you’re awful like this. She doesn't’ hate it though. 

“Fuck, please. P-please let me cum, please.” 

“Good girl. My good girl. You can cum. Cum for me.” You praise low before latching yourself back to her tits, turning the pleasure all the way up and keeping pace.

She doesn’t just cum. Something else comes rushing out, a hot stream squirting all along the bed. It gets on your clothed skin, all over your body as a wave of relief overwhelms her top to bottom. She goes taut like a bowstring, orgasm ripping through her like a knife as she cums hard enough she screams. It feels like it goes on forever. Her body trembles and pulses as you fuck her through it, only stopping when she starts to come down. 

Before she gains awareness of her surroundings, she feels your sticky hands go back and around to her wrists - skillfully undoing the knot without even having to look. When her hands are finally free, the first thing she does is wrap them around your neck and hold you as she collapses her weight into your lap. 

“You alright there, my love? You with me?” 

“Hn,” She mumbles, nuzzling her face against your shoulder “I’m… fine. Just a little tired.” 

“You’re stubborn to the very end, aren’t you? Your arms feel alright? No pain?” 

“Just sore,” She replies, and a little less lucidly “Gods that felt so good. I didn’t know you had that in you. I didn’t know I had that in me.” 

You laugh heartily at her observation, but choose not to embarrass her. “That’s good. And I always knew you did. You did so well, my love.” 

She pulls away, doe eyed and no longer able to care about how embarrassing it is. 

“I want more,” She says, keeping back a wince at that whine in her own voice “I want to make you feel good, too.” 

You smile, rubbing her back. 

“Should I spoil you then and let you?” 

She nods silently, mind absent of her usual wit - overwhelmed with want for you. 

“Get on your knees then for me, baby.” 

And she does, almost too quick. She watches you, green eyes lidded with lust as you undo the top button of your pants and beckon her closer. 

“Come here and eat.” 

[ransprang]

Astarion x fem!reader (I feel you) - N/SFW

Cazador threw you before him, "why this one should do perfect." As your parents sold you off to the coven leader. Their debt was heavy and you could fulfill you duties of being a responsible child by being sold to Cazador. He walked around you inspecting you up and down. "Why this is a good human form, such a shame I wouldve loved to turn you into a spawn. But, somewhere in the middle should do." He strutted around you and cast a spell that had you tossing and turning on the floor withering in pain.

Astarion and his siblings stood around the hall, half interested, half scared of what was happening. As the spell cast was complete you laid there on the floor, eyes wide open. Cazador's laugh echoed through the walls, "human, immortal, can eat food, can drink blood, exceptional healing capabilities, my...new...slave!" he peaked his sharp teeth at the spawns before him.

"Stand up." You gritted your teeth at him, your rebellious nature had a habit of landing you into trouble. He got a bit irritated and pulled you up by your hair sending a jolt of pain. You closed your eyes, tears forming just hoping he would let go of your hair, "Let me go!" you screached. Cazador with an amused expression retorted "no one leaves me." He threw you onto the floor and set you on fire as you burnt before his eyes and screamed out in pain. Astarion and his siblings silently watching as Cazador laughed loudly. Once the fire was set out you instantly began healing, your dress burnt to char but still clung onto you.

Cazador walked upto Astarion "Shes yours. Kill her and you shall be punished. Bring her to me whenever I demand." Cazador waved him off with his hand as Astarion scampered towards you getting you up on your feet, you sobbed holding onto his arm, digging your nails into his arm "Let me go" you said angrily gritting your teeth, tears in your eyes. But the fire that was outside was now burning within you. Astarion gave you an angry look "Shut up before we all get fried again"

You kept trying to release yourself from his grip, as you reluctantly walked towards Astarion's place. He flung you onto the floor, "right where you belong." with an evil glint in his eye, you tried grabbing at his leg angrily but he swiftly moved away "Darling, calm down. This your life now, with me',

You retorted “I will never be like you, evil like Cazador”. Astarion rolled his eyes “I can only imagine being like Cazador but whatever you say”, he chuckled turning around “now what would you like to eat? Just so you know I’m off the menu”.

You stood up holding your head up high “nothing. I’ll rot, I’ll die”. Astarion smiled warily “oh how I wish it was so easy for us to just perish, that would be the simple way out. But seems so Cazador wants you healthy, maybe to cherish~ all that himself”, he said waving his hand outlining your body. You shot him a disgusting glint, as your eyes filled with tears and you marched to the next to room out of his sight, to sit alone in your presence.

2 days later you walk out, looking for Astarion. You wanted to speak to someone, see what was happening with Cazador, and maybe be free again. You couldn’t find him anywhere, you searched the place top down, and eventually heard knock, faint, low frequency but there was a sound. You walked in the directly and realised Cazador had locked him in a coffin in the basement . You instinctively began trying to get it open, but there was no point even trying Cazador would find out you had freed his spawn from his punishment and unleash his wrath. But, you couldn’t help it even if it was just to feed Astarion, this was too cruel.

You had to get him blood, you had to feed him. Unknowing of his animal diet you scurried to find the nearest knife. You cut yourself open, allowing your blood to drip into a cup you ran back as you lock picked his coffin. Astarion looked at you, pain in his eyes, hoping this meant his punishment was open. Before he could saying anything you said “here take the cup, drink it. I’ll have to lock you up again before he finds out." Astarions eyes widened, he quickly realised and reached out to take the cup back into darkness, as you shut the door locking him up again. The next day you came back at the same time with a fresh glass and repeated. This time as you closed the coffin you heard him say “was that a persons blood? Human blood?” You pursed your lips, yes, sorry I couldn’t kill like you do so I used my own. There was silence, as you walked away you heard “I’ve never had human blood. Thank you.” Your eyes widened at the realisation, Astarion who you thought to be as bad as Cazador was just a victim, he was in pain, longer than you had ever been, and he was all alone.

You came back close to the coffin placing one hand on the surface as if to feel him inside “I didn’t know, in sorry I said those words to you”, your heard him slightly chuckle “oh dear, please don’t pity me”. You smiled at how brave he had become, “I’m not pitying you, I’m simply returning your kindness, I’ll see you again tomorrow”. You walked away feeling a stir in your heart.

As you woke up the next morning you saw Dal at the doorstep, “master has called you”, fear took over your whole body, you had already begun suffering even though the torture hadn’t begun yet. You got up and followed Dal to Cazador's chambers where he stood ready with a whip and a brand. “Oh beautiful lady, welcome again, I knew you missed me”. Your eyes red with tears and pain as you pressed your lips together readying not to let out a single squeal to Cazador's lips. He tied you to the floor and began his cruel torture, “scream for me! Scream for me will you? My ears yearn for it”.

You had no idea how long he kept you there, but when he released you, your white gown now stained red, your wounds completely healed thought the sensation now quite gone yet. You walked slowly, dazed back as you suddenly realised Astarion was all alone, possibly hungry as you ran as fast as your feet could carry to his coffin. You didn’t have time to cut yourself, he was hungry for days. You opened Astarions coffin and as his hand reached out to grab a cup you held it and pushed yourself in closing the door behind. You stood there chest to chest in the darkness, as the side of your face touched his you breathed heavy from the adrenaline but time was less, Cazador could come by any moment.

“Bite me.” You said with conviction, Astarion could smell the blood on your gown, he knew you hadn’t had the best few days, neither did he. Instinctively, shocking himself he kept one hand on your lower back the other caressed your hair, softly as he held you from the back of your neck. He whispered “I’m sorry”, as he pierced your neck with his teeth and drank. You took a hitched breath as you felt a pain tingle through your body, you lurched forward deeper into his embrace as if for comfort but from the same man who was giving you the pain. Astarion held to your waist tighter, as he took his last few sips and released you.

You found balance again as you turned your head towards him in darkness “I have to go now, I promise I’ll bring you blood tomorrow again”. As you stepped out locking him again, you heard him “I’d rather you come here again, y/n it does get quite lonely you know”. A faint smile crawled upon your lips, as you ran out of the room.

You began returning to him everyday and letting him pierce your neck. Astarion felt drawn to you, he hadn’t felt such feelings ever since he was turned. It was a longing, even in the darkness of the coffin his heart would flutter waiting for that one moment of the day where he could feel your warm body against his.

Eventually when Cazador released Astarion from his punishment, he ran back to his living quarters to find you. You sat there staring out the window, lost within the deep twilight. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around with a jolt, you saw him.

Astarion had a wet glint in his eye, but you could never be too sure if it was tears or just a sparkle. He quietly sat beside you, as you looked at his in wonder. Once fully aware you lunged into a hug into his arms as he tightly wrapped his around you. Staying in his embrace for a while, as twilight turned into deep blue. You both knew you had to look out for each other.

Astarion kissed your head as he your hands wandered his back through his shirt. He pulled you away from the embrace to look you in the eyes, but both your chests longed to close the gap between again. Astarion removed his shirt as you blushed, he looked at your red face “first time?” He smirked. You frowned, turning away didn’t say anything, you could hear a chuckle from Astarion, as you felt his icy cold touch running down the back, he slowly reached the rim of your dress unbuttoning the back. Your dress loosened causing you to quickly grab your chest to stop it from being exposed. Astarion hugged your bare back from behind, you could feel his chest breathing. He kissed the spot he had been feeding upon as he slowly ran his hands up your arms to your bare shoulders. You rolled your hand back, placing your head next to his. Astarion moved his hands to yours, firmly grasping them and making them let the dress fall loosely onto your lap. As he slowly held your breasts.

Astarion turned you to face him, your heart beating fast, wanting him to finally take you. He pushed you back onto the bad, climbing on top kissing you all the way from your belly, up to your neck, making his way to your lips. He explored every inch of your mouth, as you arched your back to be closer. Astarion removed his pants, as his cock spring out, tip pink, already sensitive, throbbing to be placed inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, he positioned himself, as he said “don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of you, as you did for me.” You nodded your head trusting the process, you knew Astarion would be careful.

Astarion slowly pushed himself in, groaning with pleasure as your warm soft walls enveloped his tip, you rolled your eyes back in pleasure. He slowly began thrusting, pushing his shaft in. A little by little he was all the way in, he stayed like that to feel you. Astarion caressed your hair as he went in for a kiss, your toes curled as he began humping you. He was so gentle, you began to feel an unfamiliar feeling. A stir in your chest, as Astarion’s sweat beaded. You felt a warmth rise up, your vagina was about to explode. Astarion picked up your ecstasy and began pumping ever so fast, he was railing you. The back of the bed thudded against the wall as you moaned, loudly at your sweet release. Astarion animalisticly thrusted, gritting his teeth as he neared his orgasm, he could feel his entire groin go sensitive as he released his thick white liquid inside of you.

Astarion collapsed on top as you both panted, he turned to face you and gave you a kiss. As you wrapped your arms around the man laying on top of you, using one hand to play with his curls. You smiled to yourself as the room lit with the bright moonlight it was almost as if the sun had risen again, and Astarion was just basking in its light.

your prisoner,

admin sav

[jazjelspen]

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.2]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(what if our mc meets a boy of red hair and blue eyes to show them the way around RSA?)

(also please read the small authors notes at the bottom if you make it that far T-T)

it's been a good short hours on the ship and this whole time you've been chatting up a storm with your new friend Rielle, and during this time you've both actually warmed up and learned a handful about each other! 

you learned about each other's basic favorite things like colors, food, subjects, and even in music! Conversations seemed to flow smoothly like water between you two and you even learned how enchanting and magical his singing voice sounds, it almost had you entranced.

your new friend and you were now having a moment of silence while taking in the sounds of the water splashing against the ship until the boy spoke.

"if you don't mind me asking-- and I don't mean to pry! just that.." Rielle spoke while he nodded his head forward towards the direction of your cast holding your broken arm."is the reason why you're wounded related to your experience in Night Raven?... you don't have to answer if you don't want to I'm just genuinely curious." he gave you a comforting smile and his eyes were right on you, listening intently.

you gave a half-hearted and sheepish smile as you looked away and quickly started reminiscing about the events these past few months had in store for you in your head before you started to speak.

"well... in a way yes. I don't want to point any fingers--" you did want to point fingers, in fact you had many people to point fingers to. you sighed as you lightly shook your head in disappointment whilst facing the ship's floor "there were people who should've just done their job." your face started to form in a bit of a scowl "then maybe, just maybe... I wouldn't be in this state."

the young man formed an 'o' with his lips as he understood what you're trying to say.

"hmm..I see.. I'm very sorry _____, I promise that with my friends and I you'll never get a scratch on you while you're with us! and if it makes you feel any better, our staff too is always responsible and capable of finding a solution for any problem you're facing!" Rielle tried his best to sound optimistic and uplifting with the brightest smile on his face to get your frown turn upside down! and to also make you feel a little more confident in yourself as to give you more hope that your situation will turn around.

his very short speech made your head turn towards him and as he intended, you smiled warmly back with a new spark of optimism rising in your chest.

"thank you Rielle, that's... very kind of you." you spoke "I'm sure that while I'm with you, I'll at least have less than half of the injuries I have now."

he chuckled softly before responding to your comment "i'm sure you'll have few to none."

there was a moment where you two just looked at each other, both smiling and chuckling with the cold yet fresh sea breeze hitting both of your faces and the last few shines of the setting sun hitting both of your faces so perfectly. when you both calmed down you could feel this feeling of optimism rise up in your system even further.

this guy, his school-- you had a really good feeling about this change.

as well as a terrible feeling but about NRC.

but you didn't want to think much of it, not right now at least.

 on Rielle's side he genuinely feels and understands your predicament, having to adapt into a strange new world that works differently than your own home does... he gets the feeling of being a total fish out of water. so because of this he feels he has this kind of connection with you because of this small detail you both have in common.

but in a really random way you also couldn't help but notice how ethereal the shade of blue was in his eyes.

you were about to ask a question but were rudely interrupted when the sailors of the ship were yelling from up above and hanging on the ropes beside the sails, announcing that the ship is now slowly arriving towards the school.

the news made you automatically want to stand up and get a good look of the school. to then have your eyes finally meet the shape of a large white castle as the focal point with the peaks of each of it's towers glistening while still being overshadowed by the shining and setting sun behind. the scene was breathlessly magical with the special touch of this entire moment being the mixed splashes of orange, deep purple, and yellow of the sky blending in with the glistening waters of the calm ocean.

Rielle slowly stood up beside you while facing the school as well "amazing isn't it? seeing the academy shining against the sunset is one of my favorite things to see here." he said before he took in a big inhale of the ocean air to then exhale, taking in the scene and all it's beauty.

"you're damn right it's amazing." you chuckled at your comment before Rielle quickly joined in too in a shared chuckling fit. For the rest of your time on the ship you two decided to just calmly enjoy the view until the ship reached ashore.

Let's speed up to now reaching and stopping on the shore.

A gangplank was set down for you and any other residents to hop off the ship. Rielle and you slowly yet excitedly walked off at the exit to finally walk down to RSA-- that was until Rielle stopped you before you could step a foot on the large plank.

"Here, let me help you out my friend." Rielle then offered a helping hand by extending his elbow out, asking you to link your uninjured arm around his as a way to help and avoid slipping but also because he's just a gentleman at heart.

you gave him a smile and a small 'thank you' as you accepted his offer while linking both of your arms together with him(or only hold onto his arm with your hand, whichever you feel comfy with)and carefully walked off the ship with him at your side. when you two find yourselves on the shore at the edge of the sea you could feel a bit of nervousness now in your system since to you it seems like you're in a whole new world. Rielle noticed this and in another attempt to cheer you up he gently tugged at your arm that you linked with him to have you look at him, to give you a reassuring smile.

"You'll be just fine _____, I'll show you where you need to go if you'd like. just know I'll be right here with you."

His words started to sink in as you gave him a hesitant nod but a strong statement,

"Let's do this."

Meanwhile... at Night Raven College..

well... I'll save all the NRC chaos in the next post, it deserves it's own chapter ;)

(will include descriptive yet somewhat short reactions of only house leaders unless there is demand for other characters)

(also if you're confused why I had a ship travel you to RSA instead of just going through the forest and through the town I completely forgot that the isle of sages housed both NRC and RSA 💀💀but im already this far in so pretend it makes sense please T-T)