#a quietly strong determination. a growing desire to love and be loved.

[sinner-as-saint]

no masters or kings

Priest!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Father Barnes’ life had been rather peaceful for years. He never complained though, he chose this. Between mass on Sundays, bible study sessions during the week, and office hours, the amount of time he has left he dedicated to reading and keeping his body active. There wasn’t much to do in this small, almost forgotten town. Then a new face appeared. A woman, married to some businessman who leaves her all by herself while he grows his fortune in the city. Father Barnes seemed determined at first, to herd and care for the new, young, lonely little lamb. But that is until he found himself tempted to sin like never before. 

Themes: priest!bucky, smut, degrading kink, infidelity, explicit language, (sacrilege, blasphemy, and all the other bad stuff)

a/n: i’m going hell anyway so yeah, PILFS <3 

“It’s very late.” 

His hushed voice echoed in the empty, dark church. Your back stiffened as you froze, standing by the pews. You turned around slowly and found him standing at the entrance, the rain falling noisily behind him. As if creating a curtain to separate you two from the world outside. 

You knew where the switches were but you didn’t turn on the light when you walked in. There was just enough light coming from the outside to allow you to move properly and see. So you couldn’t exactly see the expression on his face. 

But you saw that he was drenched, completely. He must’ve gone on a run, you figured, and instead of going back home for the night, he saw the little light at the church doorstep and decided to come check who was here. 

“I… I couldn’t sleep.” You whispered back, watching him as he stepped inside and shook his head – reminding you a little of a dog shaking – as he tried to get the rain water out of his hair. “You once said you always left the church unlocked so I thought…,” You sighed, “I should probably go.” 

“No.” He was quick to say, in that tone. Your body tensed up. “Stay.” He added quietly. 

You looked at him. Drenched jacket, wet track pants sticking to his body, he was breathing heavily so he must’ve ran all the way here. He did that often, he once said. He liked running at night. 

You watched as he stepped closer to where you stood. That little bit of grey in his beard drove you insane. Suddenly you couldn’t think. 

He had that look about him which you could only describe as ‘priestly’. Wise, slightly older, calm. He was the kind of man you’d want to open up to. You’d want him to see all that was dark and wrong inside your human heart only so he could use that firm, strong voice and tell you that it’s all gonna be okay. That you were forgiven. Loved. And never alone. 

You watched as he unzipped his jacket, revealing that ridiculously tight black shirt inside which clung to his ridiculously muscular torso. 

“Did you need me?” He asked, again in that voice. That comforting voice that made everything okay. 

You knew what he meant. How he meant it. You knew he meant it in an innocuous way. But fuck if your mind didn’t go straight to that sinful pit it stays in. Temptation, like a vicious vine, reached and wrapped around your brain as you struggled to speak. 

It was always like this. Ever since the first time you stepped foot in this space and found Father Barnes sitting in silence all by himself. At first you mistook him for being just a parishioner. Black slacks, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows, only when he turned around to face you did you notice the white collar. But by then it was too late and in your head you’d already imagined his naked body taking yours, owning you, using you. 

That day, you could tell he could almost read your mind. You were embarrassed so you excused yourself and left quickly. And anytime you wanted to be back here, and be good and behave, one look at Father Barnes and you felt like you were burning with all that pent up desire. 

It wasn’t entirely your fault. When you married your husband, you knew what you were getting into. You knew you married a man who was already married to his job in the city. But your parents couldn’t let such a wealthy, beneficial, and strong alliance go. You were given a luxurious life. There was nothing you lacked. 

You had a lavish home here in this small town, a wedding gift from your busy husband who visited maybe twice a year. You had it all. Money, vintage cars, horses you loved, a home you liked taking care of, privacy, all of it. 

All except company. Intimacy. Feeling a warm body press up against yours at night. Feeling warm skin against yours in the early hours of a lazy morning. You never got to hold hands with anyone, or get a hug. Or share a meal with. Or go on walks with. You were all alone here. And maybe that loneliness pushed you to visit the church the first time. 

Ever since, Father Barnes had become a habit. Watching him, picturing him doing unholy things to you, noticing him whenever you were at a coffee shop, or the library. You yearned for him. And it was all only heightened by the fact that he was so unreachable. So kind. So unlike how you wanted him to be. To him, you were just another lost soul he wanted to guide. 

Did you need me? 

Yes. Yes you did. In the most dirtiest of ways one can imagine. He was a handsome man. Kind blue eyes, long black hair that nearly reached his shoulders, a face only God could’ve created, and that body that he liked to take care of. He was a dream. 

And a priest. 

“I…” You struggled to find your words. “I thought a walk would help tire me out and put me to sleep. But then it started raining so here I am.” You gave him a faint smile. 

He returned one back. 

He ran his fingers through his wet, long hair and said, “I can keep you company for a while, if you want.” 

He waited. Then you said, “I’d like that.” 

–

Bucky was praying in his head as he asked you to take a seat, then sat down beside you. 

He prayed to God, in fact to anyone and anything that would listen to him. God, gods, universe, the freaking stars in the night sky which weren’t visible right now because it was pouring like it was the end of the world. He prayed you wouldn’t glimpse down and see the thing growing in his pants. 

He was ashamed. 

Ever since he first saw you, there was this pull he’d never felt before. It was like having burning hot claws sink into his flesh each time he laid eyes on you. Out on the streets, in the coffee shops, in the library, in the little diners, at the freaking grocery store, in parking lots – it was a small town so he saw you a lot. 

He had to walk by your extravagant property each time he went to the bakery, and each time he felt like a little boy who was excited to see whether or not the pretty girl would be outside this time to smile and give him a little wave. 

Then each time he saw you in this church it was somehow way worse. Like being here made the temptation more sinful. 

Bucky looked up at the cross and mentally begged. Make it stop. This is wrong. Make it stop. 

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Your gentle voice spoke. “I’m sure you need your sleep.” 

“It would be wrong of me to leave you here all by yourself.” He said, realising that this was the longest conversation you two had had. Usually you were too shy to even look him in the eyes. You kept your sentences short and always looked caught. 

So he liked this. 

Silence. 

Then you said, “I was never religious, you know?” There was a faint smile in that tone, he didn’t have to look to know. 

“Are you now?” 

He could feel your shrug. “I don’t know.” You answered. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be… so desperately good. Like you, for instance.” 

Oh if only you knew… 

Bucky shifted in his seat. Mentally begged God some more as the quiet tone of your voice made it hard for him to even sit still. He wanted to let out some of the primal aggression he was feeling. Squeeze something. Bite something. Sink into something. Preferably your tight hot body. 

Heavens. He sighed. Help me. 

Clearing his throat he said, “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to. It’s enough for me that you feel comfortable enough just to come here and feel like you’re not alone.” 

A moment of silence passed, with just the sound of heavy rain in the background. “But it’s not enough for me.” Then you quickly added, as if embarrassed that you must have overshared, “I shouldn’t be saying these things.” 

“Why not?” He frowned. What things? 

You let out a soft chuckle that only sent more blood down to his rock hard cock. Bucky clenched his fists, struggling. 

“It’s the middle of the night. I should go.” You said. 

No. He didn’t want you to go. “If there are things you need to voice out,” He said, “Would the booth make you feel more comfortable?” 

You chuckled again, turning your head to look at him. Bucky let his eyes roam all over you very, very quickly. Dark trousers, dark jacket, a scarf around your neck… too many layers. He almost groaned as he imagined himself peeling all those layers off of you. 

“Oh Father Barnes,” You sighed. “Maybe another time.” 

Then you left. Leaving him confused, aroused, and feeling way too much. 

— 

The next time Bucky saw you was yet again, on a random rainy night. After his daily run, he noticed the small lamp outside the church door was lit and ran all the way to the church to check out who it was. 

He ignored the boyish hope in his heart which begged that it’d be you. Yet he breathed out in relief when he saw it truly was you. 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, hoping his tone wasn’t too teasing. 

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “Would you… um, last time you mentioned the booth. Do you think, I mean, I know it’s late and–,” 

He cut you off by walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. Follow me.” 

You did. 

–

Sitting down on the wooden bench felt weird. You’d never done it before. Never been inside the wooden box. The space was small, dark wooden panels on all sides. A small opening allowed you to partially see Father Barnes on the other side, that is if it was during the daytime. Right now, it was all too dark. You only knew he was there by the sound of movement. 

The air smelled like candle wax and incense. It felt mysterious, intimate almost to be here with him. It felt weirdly comforting. Maybe this is why people come back, you thought. 

“You’ve never done this, have you?” He asked. 

“No.” You replied, feeling a little out of place. 

“Well, we begin with the sign of the cross…” He trailed off, as if hoping you’d do it along with him. You did. Then silence. “Now, you may tell me about the things you left without saying last time.” 

You took a deep breath. Then said, “I think I’ve been alone for way too long.” 

There was a pause before he spoke. “Alone? You mean in this town?” 

You exhaled calmly and explained, “I mean in my marriage.” 

–

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. Alone in your marriage? God help him. This was not helping his sick, twisted fantasies. All those times he fantasised as he walked by your expensive home about how he could just walk in and find where you are and demand you let him take you. Your husband wouldn’t be home. He never was, everyone knew that. Most people pitied you, the rest envied your lifestyle. But he… oh it was his most sinful fantasy till date. 

He forced himself to ask, even though he was in no shape to hear the answer, “What is it that makes you feel this way? Is there a lack of some kind?” 

He heard your shaky breath, as if you were debating whether you should tell him. “I…” You started, then stopped. Then sighed and finally said, “I’ve never been with my husband.” You explained further. “We both agreed that our marriage was only a way to solidify the business transactions between our families. We both agreed we wouldn’t be a conventional couple. He craved his busy work like in the city and I liked the tranquillity of a small town.” You paused. 

Bucky listened intently. 

“So I knew what I was getting into when I got married and moved here, while my husband remained in the city. We only see each other maybe for two weekends out of the year and that too only during the holidays when we need to put on a show for our families and smile and look happy in family photos. And I was fine with it.” Another defeated sigh. “But then it got lonely.” 

Bucky sucked in a breath as he shook his head slightly, begging God again. Don’t let my mind go there. Don’t let the fantasies seem attainable. Please. He begged. But he also needed to say something back. Something priestly. And quick. 

“I see.” He cleared his throat, refusing to even acknowledge the growing desire in his pants. Yet again. “So it’s the distance. How long has this been the case?” 

You replied, “Since the very start. I’ve never been with him, you see?” 

No. No. No. 

“Never lived with him? Never felt a sense of companionship? I admit, that must be very hard. To feel alone in a marriage–,” 

“Father Barnes,” It sounded like you were begging in shame as you interrupted him. “I have never had sex with him. Or anyone. Ever since I got married two years ago. Do you understand now?” 

“Oh.” 

You let out a soft chuckle. “Oh? I guess it must come naturally to you. To dodge those, um, desires but, I’m only human. I’m a woman, with needs. I… it worries me sometimes because often it is all I can think about all day.” Another humourless laugh. “I don’t have much to do, you see? I do enjoy the simplicity of the small town. I love my animals, my staff, I get to do things I’ve always wanted to do. I can drive around and read, and paint, and cook, and I truly do enjoy my company but sometimes… It can be very lonely. One time I–,” 

You cut yourself off. And silence followed. Tormenting Bucky even more as you left him wondering. And oh did he wonder. About your lonely nights. About you in your luxurious home, in your large bed, fingers sliding in and out from in between your thighs, crying out loud as you make yourself come. Poor you. Rich, lonely wife of a careless, rich man. Forced to take care of your needs all by yourself. 

If only there was an equally lonely man able to keep you company. If only… 

“What?” He asked, because he needed to know. “One time you what?” 

“I… you know there are people who provide services. For women like me.” Your breathy voice was driving him to the fucking edge. 

“Women like you?” 

“Yes.” Your voice was more firm now, almost like you were smiling in a mischievous way. “You know? Rich, lonely women. I almost, I mean for the longest time I contemplated hiring a male escort. But then I didn’t.” 

“I see.” He said again. “Feeling alone and neglected can result in wanting companionship in whatever form is available.” 

He was barely holding on to fucking sanity now. 

“But it was wrong, wasn’t it? To want to be with another man, any man at this point to be honest.” You sighed. “It’s like an itch that never goes away. And it makes me…” You paused, then said, “It makes me want things, crave things, crave people that I shouldn’t. It’s getting worse and worse,” You confessed. “Sometimes I leave the doors and windows unlocked or opened, even at night,” You sighed, struggling too by the sound of it, “Shamelessly hoping someone might just walk in and–,”

“Stop.” He said, using a voice he never did before. He had never interrupted a penitent so rudely. So suddenly. But he heard his own twisted fantasy come out of your mouth in that breathy tone he would lose it. “Please,” He begged in a lowered voice. 

Then he heard your gasp. Like you were ashamed. Alone in that wooden box, drowning in your desires and temptation. Right there, in this dark night, right fucking there for him to take. To taste. To touch. He was no one but a starved male at that point. He was nothing but the desires in his head. The fantasy. The claws of sin dug into him, reaching places he thought he’d shut off forever but there they were, open and raw and wanting. Wanting you. 

He didn’t know when he got out of his side of the booth and opened the other side to find you with a surprised look on your face. Surprised, but with lust in your eyes. 

“Father Barnes?” 

Bucky was crossing that line he shouldn’t. He knew he was. There was no going back. Not as he knelt down right in front of you. The space was cramped but he didn’t care. He knelt in between your legs and looked up at you. 

“You said you craved people you shouldn’t. Is one of them me?” He asked. 

–

The tension was too much. The air around you shifted. You looked down at him, not regretting the dress you wore because now you could feel him in between your bare legs. Even in the dark his body tormented you. He was still cold and drenched from the rain earlier. But so firm with your thighs pressing around him. 

“Yes.” You answered, truthfully. 

His warm hands were on your bare thighs immediately. Rubbing up and down like he had all the time in the world. “Is that so?” He questioned. His tone was lower, darker. Grave. Fuck. “Is that why you wore a pretty dress to come see me? In the middle of the night?” 

He leaned in, lips brushing against your collarbones and neck as he breathed. His warm breath making you squirm and shiver. You bit back a moan as he slowly slid his hands under your dress. 

He looked down at his hands disappearing beneath your dress for a quick moment before he looked back up into your eyes in disbelief. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asked upon further inspecting your body, as his fingers brushed against the softest, thinnest of lace underwear. “Surely you didn’t wear this for your husband who never comes home to you, hmm? Answer me.” 

“No.” You answered firmly. “I didn’t wear it for him.” Of course you didn’t. Your husband treated you like you were non-existent. Not that you minded. 

Bucky chuckled, his mouth still exploring your skin. His stubble rough against your soft skin. “And what did you think was gonna happen here? Showing up dressed like a shameless woman. Did you hope you could tempt me into touching you?” He whispered. 

His fingers slowly slid past your underwear, exploring the warmth there. You let out a soft moan, your own fingers sliding into his hair as he groaned upon feeling how wet you were. 

One moment he had a little bit of sanity left where he kept telling himself that he could stop at any moment if he wanted to. But then he slid his finger inside you, and the soft moan you let out was his undoing. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he leaned in to kiss you. Hard and fast, before his mouth found its way down your neck again, until he wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and sucked. Hard. 

You couldn’t help but gasp and moan as his warm mouth wrapped around your flesh, wetting the fabric of your dress. Then he shifted to the other one, making you whine and squirm against him. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently as he toyed with your breasts. 

And then he was eagerly bunching up your dress so he could taste what he wanted the most, that wetness in between your legs. “Good women don’t do this, you know?” He whispered, “What if someone comes in here right now and decides they need some peaceful alone time? What then?” 

You whined as he lowered your underwear, throwing it aside carelessly. You knew nobody would come in here right now. It was the middle of the night again. This whole small town was asleep. Not even one car drove on the road. But you still played into the fantasy because it was so hot. You were burning, feeling the touch of a man after so long. 

“They’d catch us.” You said, “They’d catch you.” You groaned, doing absolutely nothing to stop him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Or maybe they’d see you spreading your legs like a desperate whore for me and decide they want to watch the show. Maybe they’d even grab a chair and sit, and watch as I make you feel good.” You whined upon hearing his words. He couldn’t help the smirk. “You like that? Hmm? The possibility of someone finding you in here, legs spreading and your arousal dripping out of you? Does that make you feel powerful? Wanted?” 

“Please…” You begged, quietly. 

Then he gave you what you wanted. And you let him. You let him taste you until he had his fill. You let him take one of your legs and put it over his shoulder which opened you up even more to his warm, eager mouth. To his tongue which slid in and out and up and down until you were almost crying in pleasure. 

“Look at you,” He said, kissing down your inner thigh. “Spreading your legs for a man of God like a shameless little slut, hmm? Is that what you are?” 

He ate you out until you were trembling, until your arousal was dripping down his chin. “Fuck, please!” You cried out, fingers tugging on his hair. His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth –  it was all too much. 

“Is this what you wanted? All those times you left your doors and windows unlocked, did you ever wish I would wander in and just take you however I wanted?” He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. “Hmm? Did you ever think about me while touching yourself, you filthy little whore?” 

“Yes…” You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man. 

Which he was. It was like he was tasting the most forbidden of fruits after years of being denied. Like he was suddenly unchained and free. Hungry. 

You whined as he pulled away without letting you come. You wondered if he regretted this, if he would kick you out but he only pulled you off the bench, flipped the two of you around in the dark so that he was the one sitting on the bench now and pulled you onto his lap. 

You were surprised for only a moment, but then got over it as you found your impatient hands at the waistband of his track pants. You paused, for only a moment, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear, you looked up into his eyes, they shone even in the near complete dark. Like he was… godly. 

“Are you sure you want–,” 

He cut you off, firmly. Using that tone again. “I will die right here if I don’t take you right now, you hear me?” 

You nodded, reaching for his cock as you said in a shaky voice, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Did you?” His voice was suddenly deeper than earlier. 

You nodded, wondering if he even saw it in the dark. But you didn’t care, not as you wrapped your hand around his hard cock, hearing him hiss in pleasure as you lifted off of his lap, aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance before gently sinking down on him. 

“Oh fuck,” You cried out as you slid down his thick cock, his stare burning on your face as he thrust up into you, all the way in. 

“Fuck,” He swore, then leaned in to give you a wet, messy kiss as he thrust his hips up. He hadn’t done this in a long, long time but nature took over. He wanted more, more, more. “This is all you wanted, huh? Always giving me those eyes, always giving me that look,” He sounded stern. Almost mad. “You were basically always around me like a bitch in heat, hmm? Is this cock all you were craving? While living in your nice big house, your husband away earning money for you to spend, all this time you’ve been thinking about me, hmm?” 

“Yes…” You whined as he grabbed your hips and guided you up and down his cock, stretching you out in the process. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his cock, bouncing on it while you moaned for him, bending a little so as to not hit the roof of the booth. 

“Yes what?” He asked, sounding all cocky and less priestly as he smacked your thigh. 

“Father Barnes,” You corrected yourself, “You’re all I wanted. You’re all I think about.” You felt him fill you up nicely each time, the pressure in between your legs getting hotter and hotter. He was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Bigger, even. 

“You don’t even care how wrong this is, do you?” He threw his head back, grunting at how good you felt. “You don’t even care what you’re doing to a pious man like myself.” He let out a strained moan, as he thrust into you over and over again, while also bringing you down on his cock each time with enough force to make your tits bounce. “I thought about you too, you know? About this tight little cunt, dripping and hungry for me. Some nights I would’ve done anything for just a taste of you.” 

His words were too much. The whole situation was too much. Too good. The space felt hot, stuffy, and sinful. “Please, I need to come. Please.” You said, unable to hold back your moans when he placed his thumb over your clit and rubbed it gently, in sync with his thrusts. It only made you clench harder around him. 

You bit your lip to hold back your moans as he thrust his hips up more into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came so close to coming undone for him. 

“You’re gonna come for me, little lamb?” He asked, “You’re gonna come all over my cock like a shameless woman, huh? Not caring about where we are, what time it is, or what your husband might think if he ever finds out, you don’t care, do you?” He chuckled. “You’re too cock-drunk to care, too much of a little slut for me to care, huh?” 

You answered after a loud whimper, “Yes… please.” 

He cupped your cheek and traced your mouth with his thumb, “Go on. Come all over my cock. Come for me…” 

Your walls clenched violently around his cock. You came hard, whimpering and crying for him and gasping for breath. 

Bucky came right after you, feeling his whole body tingle like this was the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. His warm load spilling inside you as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just rammed his cock in and out of you like an animal. Like he hadn’t just sinned in so many ways. 

You caught your breath, wrapped in his strong arms. Your head rested on his shoulder as you tried to calm your racing heart. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his cum flowing out of you. 

“You’re not gonna hire any stranger to come and keep you company, you hear me?” 

You nodded, face brushing against his damp shirt and his warm neck. It felt good here, in his embrace. It felt safe. 

“I’m here, and you’re mine to take care of now. When you need to be fucked, you come find me. Is that understood?” 

You smirked, then said, “Yes, Father Barnes.” 

---

part 2

[driverlando]

https://www.tumblr.com/driverlando/753948284490547200/teasing-max-when-he-is-on-stream-with-a-picture-of?source=share

can you please expand on this🥺

-🪽

The day is winding down, and Max is sitting at his computer, streaming one of his favorite games. His focus is intense, eyes locked on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard. You can hear the sound of his voice, engaging with his audience, laughing and making quick, witty comments.

You’ve always loved watching him like this, so in his element. But tonight, you’re feeling playful. A mischievous idea takes root in your mind, and you slip away to the bedroom, quietly opening your drawer to pull out your favorite set of lingerie—a delicate black lace number that you know drives Max wild.

You slip into the lingerie, the soft fabric hugging your curves, and admire yourself in the mirror for a moment. You grab your phone and snap a few photos, making sure the lighting is just right to highlight your figure. You select the best one and send it to Max with a teasing message: Thinking of you…

Back in the living room, Max’s phone buzzes on the desk. You peek around the corner to see his reaction. He glances at the screen, and you can see the moment he opens your message. His eyes widen, and a flush creeps up his neck. He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure as he addresses his viewers.

“Uh, guys, I think I need to cut the stream a little short tonight,” he says, his voice a bit strained. The chat floods with questions and teasing comments, but he ignores them, quickly wrapping things up. “Something’s come up. I’ll catch you all next time.”

He ends the stream abruptly and pushes away from the desk, standing up. His eyes are dark with desire as he strides towards the bedroom. You can hear the determined footsteps, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

When he enters the room, his gaze locks onto you, taking in your barely-clad form. “You think this is funny, don’t you?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

You bite your lip, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Just wanted to see how much you missed me.”

He steps closer, his eyes blazing. “Oh, I missed you, all right. But now you’re going to pay for teasing me like that.” He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand patting his thigh. “Come here, naughty girl.”

Your heart races as you walk over to him, your body already tingling with anticipation. He guides you over his lap, your stomach resting against his strong thighs. His hand caresses your bare skin for a moment before he brings it down with a sharp smack. You gasp, the sting mingling with pleasure.

“You think you can distract me and get away with it?” he growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time.

“I’m sorry, Max,” you moan, your arousal growing with each strike.

He spanks you a few more times, each one harder than the last, until your skin is flushed and tingling. “I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he says, his voice thick with desire.

[blue--ingenue]

soft!Sebastian headcannons - part 2

Author's Note: so flattered at the response part 1 has gotten, so here's part 2! i may be projecting a bit with the adhd headcannon, but i swear that boy at least partially has it

he’s incredibly protective of you. after losing his parents, nearly losing Anne, and knowing that you defeated Ranrok alone in fifth year, he vowed to never let any harm come to you. he knows you’re more than capable of holding your own in a fight, and his overprotective streak causes a fair amount of arguing between you both, but it stems from his love for you and desire to see you safe

much of his Crossed Wands fan base consists of younger students (including Lucan) that he’s defended from bullies over the years 

absolute caffeine gremlin. drinks coffee when the house elves apparate it onto the breakfast tables, but if he can’t get his hands on a cup, he’ll settle for tea. (this is one of the reasons Earl Grey is one of the first scents you recognize while making amortentia in Potions)

usually doesn’t approve of Garreth’s ‘experiments in class’ (enjoys mischief as much as the young Weasley, but doesn’t want to jeopardize his grade), but once slipped him a few sickles to commission him for an energizing brew

knows how to braid hair, and is pretty damn good at it. Anne taught him how when they were little and he’s been doing it ever since. if MC has long hair, he’s braiding it into a neat french braid before their Crossed Wands match so that it doesn’t get in their face while fighting. some of the boys in his year with fragile masculinity scoff, but when they see half of the students in their year fawning over him. they try to learn how to braid as well

(i’m literally picturing soft Sebastian lovingly braiding MC’s hair with gentle hands before taking his place next to them and absolutely decimating their competition. the complete 180 from tender to lethal has most of the crowd swooning)

is absolutely the little spoon, but will take over as big spoon if you ask him to. whenever he’s stressed or overwhelmed from school (or the danger you often find yourselves in) he just wants to be held

has a major sweet tooth. he always has some sort of sweet with him. whether it’s a chocolate frog, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans he’s split with Ominis, or a pastry tucked away from dinner

absolutely ADORES museums. his parents used to take him and Anne to wizarding history museums as well as the natural history museum in London. seeing artifacts up close while satiating his thirst for knowledge is his personal paradise

(possibly becomes a museum researcher after graduating. something a bit daring and dangerous that lets him put his dueling skills to use in the pursuit of contributing knowledge to his field)

has some degree of adhd that influences his impulsive decisions, risk-taking behavior, and constant switching from topic to topic. has many detentions from talking while the professor is speaking or engaging in unsanctioned spell work, but it’s not his fault classes aren’t stimulating enough 

loves dueling and defense against the dark arts because he gets to engage in hands-on activities after long days of having to sit quietly and still for hours of lectures

herbology isn’t his strong suit, but one day you tell him your favorite flower and he’s determined to grow them for you. a few days later in the undercroft you notice a little self-watering potting table with a few buds poking out from the soil. there are at least five herbology books flipped open to various pages on the exact flower you mentioned with little notes scrawled in the margins

he hands you a bouquet of the flowers once they’ve grown and you swear he looks positively elated

[wyyvernn]

A/n: Something small I wrote for myself but then I got carried away and wrote it longer :)

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

Cw: All characters 18+, Older Man/Younger Woman, Mentor/Student Dynamic, Smut, Thigh riding, Overstimulation, Fingering - don't like, don't read

Tags: @psybrepunk @sangheilihoes @demigoddessqueens @bookworm-with-coffee @ladysaturnsdust @haytham-loves-chocolate @memoriesofafallen

Usually, there was little that filled the silence of the Grand Master's office. The soft flipping through papers and maps, and the occasional scratching of a quill occured here and there. Haytham planned out the rest of his night to be a peaceful one, occupied by unfinished letters, and paragraphs to be written in his journal about his recent involvements in the Order.

But of course, those plans were thwarted and the peace chased away by his pupil invading his privacy again.

Your cries of pleasure echoed in his office, bringing him back from his thoughts. He watched you grind yourself back and forth on his thigh, your skirts bunched up in your fists, eyes squeezed shut and those smooth lips of yours parted, occasionally licked wet by your tongue. His hand came up and tucked some of your loose hair behind your ear, the other one curled around your hip, keeping you firmly put on his lap.

“Needy little thing…” He muttered quietly, his voice low and husky. The way he seemed so nonchalant about the situation frustrated you a little. 

You were making quite a sticky mess of his pants, and he felt your slick seeping through, soiling the material with a large patch of wetness. It amused him - the disorderly and unruly sight of you was a strong contrast to the perfect image of him. Unlike you, there wasn't a single grey strand out of place from his neat ponytail, nor were his clothes unkempt, his body still donning his usual navy blue fit. You guessed that if you hadn't interrupted him when you had, he would've been packing up for the night and heading to sleep but alas here you both were.

A sigh exhaled through him, like your unfulfilled desires were a minor inconvenience to his night.

“Have you no shame? Do you take pleasure in robbing me of my late night hours? Of the only time I am free to indulge in?” He scolds, adopting a slight frown, but you can tell that he's not really angry. Something about his expression tells you that he's only playing along.

“Mhn… sorry, sir.” You murmur with guilt painting your face, repeatedly dragging your wet slit back and forth, gasping when your clit scrapes against the rough material of his trousers.

“No, you're not.” He says, hisses, his breath beginning to grow ragged and uneven when he grabs your hips, a noticeable bulge forming and rubbing against your leg. Large, calloused hands dig into your skin and force you to grind harder on his thigh, resulting in a particularly sharp cry from your throat.

“You're not sorry.” He grits out, his words harsh in your ear, and he yanks your lower body towards him again, eliciting another whine. “You wouldn't be grinding yourself on my thigh for relief like a common whore if you were now, would you?”

You continue to fill the office with your lewd sounds, too stuck in the euphoria that his leg provides you. No doubt whoever has walked past on the other side of the door has heard your moaning, either stopping to listen or rushing away with a bright face.

A slap to your rump refocuses your attention back to him when you don't offer an answer.

“Would you?”

You babble out something incoherent, another apology or something that you don't care to remember, only focused on how good it feels, how good his hands feel as they push and pull your hips yet painful when it becomes too stimulating.

“Slow down, sir… please.” You moan out, digging your heels into the floor and tightening your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to stop yourself but his grip is relentless, the pace he sets for you even more so.

A flash of determination burns in his eyes briefly when you try to stop him. “Oh no, you wanted this. And I'll see to it that you finish it to the end.” 

Suddenly he's pushing aside your skirts and seeking out your swollen nub. The moment he dips his thick fingers past your folds, you bite into your bottom lip and bury your face in his neck, muffling your groans.

He twists the pair of them deeper while you writhe in his lap and then claw your hands at his back when they curl against your walls, the rough pad of his thumb dragging along your clit and bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“Please, sir… please!” You beg, trying to catch your breath but your Grand Master is unforgiving, still watching you with that almost bored expression as he plays with you.

With one last cry into his shoulder, Haytham thrusts his fingers impossibly quick and finally stops when you spill all over them. He lifts them up to your mouth and pops both in, slathering your slick on your tongue, a silent command to taste yourself.

You don't disappoint him, taking his forearm in both of your hands and wrapping your lips around his digits, making sure to suck them clean.

He watches you with a flicker of lust, his cock still hard and straining in trousers, and he pulls his fingers away abruptly from your mouth with a wet pop before he can make you do something about his evident predicament. He'll deal with it later.

Haytham gently shoos you off his lap, much to your disappointment.

“Run along now and clean yourself up. I expect you to be ready in the morning for training. And don't interrupt me at this hour again.” He warns, although there's a light mischief to his eyes, one that almost dares you to try it again.

And of course you do, the following night.

[cassieuncaged]

What color is your OCs aura??

Found a fun uquiz to try!

No pressure tags: @chadillacboseman, @roofgeese, @emotionalcadaver, @areyenotfondofmelobster, @captastra, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @corvosattano, @adelaidedrubman, @bardic-inspo, @spacestephh, @galaxycunt, @gayafsatan, and anyone else I may have forgotten!

Ilwyn - BG3

Cream: dandelions, marble, bottled coffee, hair ties, banana cream, bedsheets, sketches. your essence is cream: your openness makes you a soft and gentle companion. you beg others to hold you; the most fulfilling life is one with love and praise, safe from traitorous insecurity. apologies come easily to you -- for it is better than change. you are the tenderheart. you are the devout. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of yellow, gold, peach, and honeysuckle, who share your self-doubt. you are also drawn to the resolute blush and beige, who will help you grow and learn to find your own cause. however, you may struggle to get along with the obsessive personalities of rose and sage who demand too much.

Ffion - BG3

Umber: book spines, suits, coffee, deep soil, violins, bear fur, staircases. your essence is umber: you are strong and silent, rarely ruffled. yet, you are unmoored; tender and drifting, you are unsure of your motivation save for to do good. many find you generous and stalwart -- but melancholy. you are the keeper. you are the ungrudging. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of brown, beige, hickory, and garnet, who share your profound determination. you are also drawn to the flamboyant magenta and gold, who will help you grow and show you how to follow your heart without guilt. however, you may struggle to get along with the self-focused personalities of royal and crimson who rarely compromise.

Nyx - Mortal Kombat

Noir: drops of ink, eyeliner, crows, spiders, charcoal, painted nails, the night. your essence is noir: you see the world for what it really is and have the desire to perfect it. you embrace all of reality with zeal; there is an order to everything, even the thoughts that drip with darkness. your spirit is undeniable and some may call you quietly passionate or idealistic. you are the conquerer. you are the reformer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of grey, ivory, amaranth, and hickory, who share your passion for betterment. you are also drawn to the creative magenta and indigo, who will help you grow and let go of your reservations that you must be perfect. however, you may struggle to get along with the philosophical personalities of navy and amber who seem aimless.

Meg - Far Cry 4

Sky: short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes. your essence is sky: you are a hard worker and do not relent on something once you have begun. you are giving to all but yourself and pour from an empty cup; you want to be simple, self-sufficient, easy. you overflow with creativity but throw away your sketches before they're even done. you are the dauntless. you are the venturer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of blue, navy, periwinkle, and seafoam, who likewise hold themselves to high standards. you are also drawn to the self-actualizing sage and apricot, who will help you grow and relax into your feelings. however, you may struggle to get along with the strict personalities of ivory and blush who seem overly critical.

Betty - SDV

Honey: friendship bracelets, beehives, school busses, children's books, flower petals, honeyed toast, polaroids. your essence is honey: you are devoted and endlessly enthusiastic. your friendships are your security; you shroud yourself with people who make you smile and feel lost at sea without them. often you are quick to dedicate yourself to whatever hand feeds you. you are the companion. you are the confidant. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of peach, marigold, yellow, and orange, who share your love of teamwork. you are also drawn to the streamlined souls terracotta and chiffon, who will help you grow and discover your own confidence. however, you may struggle to get along with the heedless personalities of orchid and chartreuse who seem like fair weather friends.

Daphne - Fallout 4

Teal: dyed hair, scales, doc martens, borealis, stormy seas, kingfishers, agate. your essence is teal: you are unique and yearning, emotional without realizing it. you readily get pulled in deep; when you've found an interest, it anchors you, though you can become lost in the details. your identity is strong and you will not change for anyone. you are the free spirit. you are the observer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of jade, seafoam, navy, and forest, who share your deep intuition. you are also drawn to the thoughtful souls moss and bronze, who will help you grow and learn how to try new things. however, you may struggle to get along with the forceful personalities of amaranth and garnet who are too attached to a single perspective.

[cityandking]

aloe, gardenia, hollyhock, salvia for dai, minah and bran!

thanks dear!! // botanical headcanons

aloe: how does your muse handle grief?

DAICHI — quietly. with great weight and respect MINAH — badly! queen of Not Processing Shit over here BRANWEN — privately. puts a lot of effort into displaying an appropriate amount of grief and carrying the rest of it in her heart where no one can see it, then taking it out later to hold. she's got a lot of love in her with no place left to go except into the water, and most days that's enough space for her but. sometimes even the ocean isn't big enough to hold how much she misses her mother

gardenia: is your muse one to confess romantic feelings early on, or to conceal them for long periods of time?

DAICHI — dai would sit on feelings for ages if he could. if it weren't for the whole greater restoration deal, he'd have kept steeping in his zaref feelings for another 20 sessions. he'd confess eventually, though—he prefers to be direct and open with his emotions, he just needs the time to process and understand them first MINAH — honestly minah's the kind of person to confess her feelings fairly early on, but she hasn't had romantic feelings for anyone in like, a decade so it's kinda moot. (if she did end up with romantic feelings in the present day, she'd put so much effort into denying and ignoring it that she wouldn't have the time or energy to confess anything to anyone) BRANWEN — bran doesn't usually go in for deep romantic feelings, but she's plenty open with the shallow ones! communication is important, even for flings. if anything she's worse at talking admitting to big romantic stuff—it's hard to be seen so clearly, especially by someone you feel so deeply about. she'd get there cause she's a brave gal, but it would take a little extra effort.

hollyhock: how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition? what’s something they strive for in life?

DAICHI — honestly it was stronger before the party left airedon. he was very determined to do a good job at the garrison and work his way up the ranks of the Sunsingers (upon reflection this was perhaps more about Doing Good and Following The Path than any true desire on his part, but what did he know). these days he's—I mean, well, he's dead. but pre-death he just wanted to do good and help people, which felt truer to him than any order-mandated promotion. ambition doesn't really come into it. MINAH — minah never considered herself ambitious. she never really needed to be. she doesn't know what she's striving for these days—she's kind of just on this ride and coming to the realization that she may not be able to get off. who knows what comes next (I do. it's 15 years of blight. congrats on the new traumas babygirl) BRANWEN — immense. enormous. it's not that she wants riches or power, or even recognition per se. she just wants history—to be a figure known and remembered, to grow bigger than her own life and live on beyond her own death. striving is absolutely the word for it—it's an expansive and endless desire, and she reaches for it like the horizon.

salvia: is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them? how do they express that possessiveness, or lack thereof?

DAICHI — honestly yeah! a little! he tries to keep a lid on it cause he definitely doesn't want to be limiting anyone but part of the whole paladin thing is being a little bit selfish with what he protects—with what's his—and he definitely feels it, even if he doesn't act on it. he's extra protective of his people (and extra guilty about failing them) MINAH — I meaaaaaaaaan she's a thief so there's definitely some covetousness there, but she's really good at cutting and running, and I think (as of right now) that outweighs any possessiveness in her. at the end of the day she's gonna be out for herself and she doesn't have the space to hold on to other people too. BRANWEN — I see you asking this for bran you sneak. yes bran is terribly possessive. she's a pirate! she's fiercely protective of her people and particularly likes seeing proof of that. she's the kind of person who gifts you something you can wear for the satisfaction of seeing it on you. as a girlfriend she isn't clingy but she's direct. she likes to leave her mark. she likes to get her hands on the things that are hers and give them good things, gifts and adventures and other uhhh more intimate good things

[heartvisor]

[haverdoodles]

The Promise Braid

— (Solas & Te’lise Lavellan)

.

“My Heart, you have been naughty,” Solas purred with deceptive softness as he approached. “I believe you have something of mine?”

Te’lise blushed bright pink at the suggestiveness of his tone, growing dizzy at the way his hips swayed with each step as he closed the distance between them. “I– yes.” Her voice shook. She cleared her throat. “I do.”

Solas halted a mere breath’s distance away. He peered down into her face with undisguised curiosity.

Growing warm under his gaze, she hastily added, “I wasn’t stealing it. I– didn’t– steal it. Erm… I had a gift for you in mind. Actually.”

Solas cocked a brow. “You wished to regift my necklace to me? How generous of you, Vhen’an. “

Te’lise swatted his chest with her free hand, rolling her eyes at the boyish grin that he bent towards her. “Oh, I might as well just come out with it,” she sighed. “Here. Your hand, please?”

Solas obeyed, watching her with soft eyes as she withdrew her own hand from behind her back to rest his jawbone necklace gently upon the surface of his palm.

“What’s this?” Solas asked, breaking his gaze to blink down at his jawbone in surprise. He brushed his fingers over the viridescent tassel attached to it, wondering, and Te’lise began to blush in earnest.

“In my Clan,” she said quietly, “When two Elvhen begin courting, they exchange these, Promise-Braids, to symbolize their commitment to one another. Normally they would be woven in one’s hair beside the Life-Braid, but… well…” The two of them simultaneously glanced up at the smoothness of Solas’s head.

“Ah, yes. I could see how that could pose a problem,” he said with a wry smile. His mirth faded into something tender when he took notice of the pink hue of Te’lise’s face, and the way her hands trembled. “This means a lot to you.”

[edited] Te’lise sighed shakily. “I never thought that I would be in this position,” she admitted, resisting the urge to curl in upon herself in the wake of her own vulnerability. “I was… not seen as desirable among many of the Dalish, you see. I was too weak and too sick in their eyes. They did not wish to tie themselves to someone they weren’t even sure would outlive the decade. My Clan tried to love me tenfold to drown out the whispers, but I… I had determined to try to make my peace with the outsiders’ misgivings. ‘Perhaps I could be useful to the People in ways other than marriage or motherhood.’ So to be here now, with you… to hear you call me…”

“Vhen’an.” Solas whispered.

[edited] Te’lise’s eyes burned. She knew, now. She understood that she had worth, that her body and soul were as natural and worthy of admiration as the valleys of flowing grasses and the azure expanses of endless seas. She often needed to remind herself of it – years of shadowed thoughts would not disappear in merely a night of dreaming – but she felt lighter now. Hopeful, in a way that a secret part of her hadn’t been before. She cleared her throat, forcing lightness. “Well. I wished to show you my appreciation by offering you a courting gift the proper way.”

Solas was silent for a long moment. Just Te’lise was beginning to worry that she had offended him with her candor, he said in an unreadable tone, “The colour. It matches your eyes.”

Said eyes widened as mortification crashed through Te’lise in waves. “Oh, Gods,” she moaned, raising a hand to her face. “I promise, that was not my intention–“

And then he was kissing her.

Her world was suddenly consumed by Solas; the way his towering form enveloped hers, the heated brush of his skin through his tunic, a strong hand gripping her hip and gently guiding her to lie back against the grass.

[edited] “My Heart, my Heart,” he murmured against her lips, chanting the two syllables like a desperate prayer. “Ar lath ma, Vhen’an. You have always been so beautiful.”

[edited] Te’lise’s eyes burned. How long had she waited to be told those words? She began returning his kisses in earnest, pulling away just enough to pepper them across his freckled nose, his cheekbones, his closed eyelids, conveying her deep admiration with her lips against heated skin.

Eventually they parted, panting, staring at one another with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Solas surprised her with a grin, his chest heaving. He looked so happy.

“I take it that you don’t disapprove?” She asked shyly, and Solas began to laugh.

“Disapprove? I could never disapprove of you.” He bent down close enough that Te’lise could admire the way the fading sunlight caught his eyes, illuminating them silver. “I will treasure it, always.”

Her chest warmed. Not trusting herself to speak in that moment, Te’lise grabbed his tunic and yanked him down, muffling his surprised laughter with her lips upon his own.

.

[edited 03/04/23 — exchanged some parts for a more sensitively written version & included some introspective thoughts (Te’lise). Added the line “You have always been so beautiful” from Solas.]

[sunrisefairy]

i’m sorry the way u did my last request was SO GOOD i just had to ask for another. could you do one with charlie weasley as a care of magical creatures prof and he finally gets with the professor he’s been flirting with? you write spicy fics so well i cant even

omg stop, ur making me blush. I had fun with this one! 

NSFW 18+ below the cut

You told yourself no boys this year, no distractions, you vowed that this year you’d focus on your career; Dumbledore had given you a position at Hogwarts and you were ecstatic and determined to make him proud. You didn’t think it would be too hard, to have a year free of boys, the male professors at Hogwarts weren’t exactly eye candy. That was until you met the new care of magical creature’s professor, damn that Charlie Weasley.

He was handsome, no argument about it, his rugged good looks and charming, sweet personality had your panties dripping whenever he was in close proximity (even the mere thought of his strong arms and those long fingers had your core throbbing) not that you would ever tell him that.

Charlie Weasley seem to make it his mission to make you flustered, within the first 10 minutes of your initial introduction he told you how breath taking your eyes were and how gorgeous his name sounded when it fell from your lips. You obviously blushed at this and brushed the comments under the rug, assuming he was just being cheeky and kind and didn’t mean anything by it. However, Charlie made very clear he found you attractive and having to endure months of his shameless flirting was proving to be very difficult to ignore the sexual tension between the two of you.

You stared down at the pile of forgotten essays on your desk, your mind was elsewhere, and you couldn’t seem find the concentration to focus on grading them right now. Your brain was preoccupied but a certain gorgeous redheaded wizard. You imagined his rough fingers and how they would feel against your skin, unbuttoning your blouse slowly and teasing your nipples, would he be soft and gentle and caress your breasts or would he prefer to be rough and pinch and tug at your skin? You bit your lip at the thought, arousal already pooling in your panties. It had been too long since you last had sex and you were beginning to grow frustrated and desperate for it.

“Thinking about me again, love?” you’re snapped from your thoughts and immediately clench your thighs at the sight before you. Charlie was leaning against the door frame of your classroom, his arms cross in front of him causing his muscles to strain against his shirt.

You smirk, “how I manage to get anything done when you plague my thoughts 24/7 is beyond me.”

Charlie chuckles at this assuming you’re joking and enters the room, approaching you at your desk. You take this time to rack your eyes over his body, his shirt stretching deliciously over his torso, the top few buttons undone allowing you to scan his neck and collar bone. Merlin how you wish you could sink your teeth into his creamy skin-

You cough to shake yourself of this thought, no boys, no distractions.

“What can I do for you Professor?” you muse, straightening up the long-forgotten essays.

If Charlie noticed you hungrily scanning his body moments before, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh nothing really, was walking around and had the strong urge to come visit my favourite professor.”

You blush before he continues, “Snape was busy though so thought you were the next best thing.” He’s smirking at you now and you scoff rolling your eyes.

“Ha-ha,” you say sarcastically, “well as you can see, I’m insanely busy grading these essays so can’t say it would be much fun if you stayed.” You pick up an essay from the pile and furrow your eyebrows hoping it looks like you’re deep in thought when really you’ve re-read the same sentence 3 times, still not comprehending what it says.

“I can think of ways we can have fun,” Charlie’s low voice sounds from right next to your ear. How did he get there so fast? “none of which involve boring essays.”

You gulp and turn your head. He’s leaning over your shoulder, invading your personal space, one of his powerful arms is braced against the dark wood of your desk. You can feel Charlie’s soft breath fanning your face and you shudder. You can’t think of anything to say right now, Charlie’s rich scent is swarming your senses and any thoughts that do manage to form inside our brain are not appropriate to say out loud.

Charlie’s eyes glance down at your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them instinctively, he’s unsure if you are aware of the effect you have on him. Such a simple innocent move of licking your lips has Charlie growing hard. He leans closer to you, wanting you to give him the go ahead to continue, as you part your lips Charlie’s certain you’re about to tell him to kiss you.

“The doors open,” you squeak, suddenly very aware of this compromising position and not really eager on an unsuspecting student waltzing past and seeing this scene. You know you should ask Charlie to leave, you have essays to grade and a ‘no boys, no distractions’ rule to follow but Charlie is so close you can almost taste him.

He grins smugly, pointing his wand at your classroom door which slams shut and you can hear the lock click, he whispers a silencing charm too which has your heart beating faster in your chest. Are you really about to do this? Charlie looks down at you waiting for your next move. It feels like eternity before you make your decision, is it the right one, you’re not sure but you’ve dreamt about Charlie’s lips for too long to turn them down now.

In a flash, you connect your lips together, it’s rushed and messy but neither of you seem to mind. You can feel Charlie’s hands all over your body, he’s unbuttoning your shirt and squeezing your hips and arse and pulling you closer and palming your tits and it’s heaven. His lips find their home against your neck and you gasp as his nips and sucks at your skin. Somehow, you’ve change positions and Charlie has you pressed hard against your desk and you can feel his cock hardening in his pants.

“Fuck, want you so bad darling,” he growls into your ear. You tug roughly at his hair forcing his eyes to meet yours. His are dark with desire and you have to force yourself not to come right then and there.

“Then have me,” you respond.

The both of you waste no time, very aware of the fact that you don’t have the luxury of taking your time right now. You’re pulling off each other’s clothes and clawing at skin and leaving scratches and love bites and groaning and whining. Charlie hoists you onto your desk, pushing aside any papers and quills in his way. He wishes he had more time because the desire to kiss along every inch of your beautiful body and explore every freckle or birthmark or scar you have, is so strong. But he just prays you’ll give him another opportunity to do just that, because right now he needs to be inside of you.

Charlie is standing in between your open legs as he takes his fingers and runs them along your slick folds. “Fuck baby, so wet for me huh?”

The sarcastic comment disappears from your mouth as Charlie pushes 2 of his long slender fingers inside your heat, you moan at the sensation. He quickly begins scissoring his fingers set on stretching you out as fast as he could. “F-fuck, Charlie. Feels so good.”

“Wait till you get my cock darling. I’ll have you screaming,” he teases.

You kiss his lips before responding cockily, “go on then.”

Charlie removes his fingers and you whine at the emptiness, “shh darling, I’ll feel you up soon enough. You want that? Want me to fill you up with my cock?”

You’re nodding desperately, “yes please Charlie, please need your cock so bad.”

He grins widely at you, “as you wish.” The both of you groan as he lines up his cock and pushes inside of you. None of your fantasies would have prepared you to how amazing it feels to have Charlie’s cock stretching you out like this. You wrap your legs around his waist as his starts to rock his hips into yours.

Charlie begins to snap his hips faster and faster finding a deliciously rough pace, you’re grateful for the silencing charm he casted because you wouldn’t be able to contain the moans otherwise.

“Holy fuck Charlie,” you whine against his lips letting yourself run your fingers all over his sweaty naked body before they find their home on his hard shoulders.

The groan that rolls out of Charlie’s mouth is borderline pornographic, “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Charlie can feel himself growing closer and closer to his climax and he’d be daft if he lets himself finish before you. Charlie reaches in between the both of you and his thumb connects with your clit, forcing a loud moan to erupt deep from your throat. Charlie starts rubbing tight circles against that bundle of nerves while nipping and sucking at the soft skin on your neck. He can feel you clenching tightly around him.

“S-so close,” you gasp as that familiar tightening sensation pools in your belly.

“Come for me darling, I got you,” Charlie responds, his free hand holding you firming against him as you come undone. His name dripping from your lips like a sweet poem. It only takes a few more thrusts until he’s groaning into your neck and releasing deep inside you, his load painting your walls. The two of you are panting heavily as you try and catch your breath. You chuckle quietly to yourself, enjoying the sensation of Charlie’s now soft cock still inside of you. So much for no boys no distractions.

~~~~~~~

imma start adding my taglist to blurbs too, so if you would like to be added/taken off just send me an ask (if your name is crossed out i couldnt tag you)

@hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @anxiousblanketqueen @dracoswhore007 @georgeweasleyswhre @pandaxnienke

[rocorambles]

Shiny New Toy

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader 

Genre/Warnings: Military Officer Matsukawa x Prisoner of War Reader AU, Yandere, Non-Con/Rape, Bondage, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Objectification, Humiliation, Body Writing, Mentioned/Implied  Non-Con Branding, Knife Marking, Tattooing

Summary: Most people would consider having a white Christmas a stroke of good luck, but you’re about to find out just how untrue that is. 

Author’s Note: This fic is for the Lovesick Server’s December collab and the theme is Stormy Nights~ Be sure to check out the amazing work by other members here.

When most people dream of a white Christmas, they think about soft fluffy snow you can easily shape into snowmen, they think about fluttering snowflakes they can gaze at as they sit inside a cozy home surrounded by their family. 

Not you. 

When you dream of a white Christmas, you pray for a thunderous snowstorm, you pray for harsh winds, frigid temperatures, you pray for anything severe enough to serve as a distraction, to keep the demons and monsters at bay. 

And it takes every ounce of self-control not to accidentally betray how relieved and thankful you are as your guards for the day are sloppy enough to leave you uncuffed, hastily throwing down enough food to last you a few days in their rush to return to the safety and warmth of their barracks, unwilling to venture out more than necessary to feed you multiple times a day during the blizzard outside. 

They still have enough sense to lock the cell door behind them as they scurry back to the merry celebrations, too afraid to deal with the wrath of their superior officers. And you can’t blame them, not when Oikawa’s sadistic streak and Iwaizumi’s untempered rage are infamous throughout the nations, not when you’ve seen firsthand just how cruel the Seijoh Four can be. 

Painful memories of fire, screams, and blood flood your mind and you grit your teeth as you push them aside. There would be time for grief and mourning later. But for now, you need to escape first.

You examine the lock in front of you, the one thing separating you from freedom. It’s not a bad piece of work. Sturdy, strong, and reliable. But it’s nowhere near the craftsmanship and skill you’re used to. After all, when you come from Date Tech, the nation famous for its Iron Walls, its ironwork, its ability to manipulate all types of metal to do or be whatever the heart desires, nothing compares. And it’s laughably easy to make said lock useless as you quietly creep outside for the first time in months. 

It’s quiet. Not a soul is in sight and you slow your breathing and thoughts down as you concentrate. What’s the next step? Which direction should you go? What’s the overall plan?

For once you’re thankful for how the guards they’ve been sending could care less about your presence, treating you nothing more than an object as they blatantly ignore you and carry on conversation as if you’re not there. You know that despite the fact that most of Miyagi has been conquered, three nations still remain in an endless war against each other.

Karasuno. Shiratorizawa. Aoba Johsai. 

It’s just your luck that you’d ended up a prisoner of war by the worst of the three, humiliated and kept alive as a trophy and symbol of what they had accomplished. At least if Date Tech had been conquered by Shiratorizawa you’d be dead within seconds once Ushijima had deemed you unworthy and far too weak to live up the to high standards of his warriors. 

But Karasuno...you don’t know much about the crow nation, a nation that had kept a low profile for as long as you could remember, only to recently rear its head and prove that they’ve kept up with the best of the best despite their long isolation. But you do remember the kind faces of their high ranking officers when they had gotten into a conflict with Date Tech long ago, how surprisingly amicable the two sides were as Date Tech admitted defeat, preparing for the worst, only to be surprised as Karasuno had peacefully left after having your nation promise an alliance with them, leaving your home relatively in one piece, letting your authorities remain in power, allowing your people to live normally.

It’s decided then. The game plan is to escape to Karasuno and hope that Daichi Sawamura is as just and kind as you remember. 

Determined, you carefully listen and check your surroundings, grateful for the added coverage the snowstorm provides, relieved when you hear the distant drunken shouts and celebrations as the soldiers celebrate the joyous holiday, tucked away in the mess hall quite a distance from you. And you brace yourself as the wind howls around you, as the icy snow stings your bare feet and legs, soaking through your tattered clothing. But like hell you’re going to let something as silly as frostbite stop you and you darkly think that dying from hypothermia would be a preferable way to leave this world than by the hands of a Seijoh officer. 

Escape is tantalizingly close and you forget about the way your body feels numb from the bitter cold, forget about how your teeth chatter and your body shivers when you see the nearing enclosure, so focused on the exit that you don’t notice the solitary tall figure casually leaning against a wall nearby, curiously watching your stumbling weary body make its way towards the opening, amusement in his eyes when you pass him, completely unaware of his presence as your eyes sparkle from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Matsukawa doesn’t care much for Christmas. Well to be fair, he doesn’t care much about holidays or celebrating in general, finding the rowdy atmosphere headache inducing, the raucous volume irritating, the crowds of people bothersome. But Oikawa and Hanamaki love their social events and it boosts squad morale, so needless to say of course there is an obnoxious holiday party raging on, with Iwaizumi playing babysitter. And Matsukawa had slipped out as soon as he could, finding strange comfort in the tumultuous weather outside, unfazed by the way snow slashed across his face as he walked and walked until only the sounds of wind and the night accompanied him. 

So imagine his surprise when their adorable little prisoner shows up in the midst of the blizzard like a ghostly apparition, struggling through the elements in a desperate attempt to escape. Honestly he doesn’t know why you’ve been kept in the cell for so long and he supposes you have Iwaizumi to thank for Oikawa not sinking his teeth and claws into you already, the green eyed general having a softer heart than most would assume knowing his reputation. But your luck has run out and not even Iwaizumi can save you from punishment and Matsukawa’s penchant for ruining pretty things. 

Suddenly Christmas doesn’t seem so bothersome after all as Matsukawa’s long legs swiftly carry him to you, his arm quickly wrapping around your neck from behind and squeezing until your nutrient deprived and half frozen body collapses in his arms. 

You groan when you come back to your senses, sinking into the soft surface you’re laying on. 

Wait. Soft surface?

Your eyes shoot open and your arms instinctively move to help you sit up, only for you to falter as something keeps your arms bound behind your back and you flail and struggle to move your tied up body as you gauge your surroundings, feeling nauseous when you recognize the turquoise and white uniform jacket hung up by the door, staring in disbelief and humiliation when you finally look down at yourself, the glowing Christmas lights adorning and highlighting your body as they weave around your breasts and between your legs. And you can only assume that’s what you feel wrapped around your arms, keeping them immobile behind your back as your naked body fights against its restraints on the bed you’ve been placed on. 

 But you scream, all thoughts of escape zapped out of you when two devices come to life inside of you and you sob in shame and panic as both your lower holes are assaulted by the vibrators inside of them, the tangle of lights looped between your legs keeping the toys firmly shoved inside of you despite the way you try to push them out of you. 

Matsukawa doesn’t understand the appeal of Christmas lights or decorations nor does he understand Oikawa’s fascination of sex toys and overwhelming his play things with plastic, rubber, and metal, preferring the surge of pride that courses through him when he wrecks his sluts with his body alone. But as he watches you writhe in front of him, your eyes glistening with hopeless tears, your nipples perky and erect, your moans and whimpers filling the room as he sits back and relaxes, his large hand slowly palming his hardening cock that he untucks out of his trousers, he admits that maybe he had been too quick to judge, grateful he hadn’t immediately dumped the box of gag gifts his brunette captain had gifted him bright and early this Christmas morning. 

“I know you don’t like toys, Mattsun. But you should test these out on the new batch of prisoners we get from the next raid!”

You aren’t a new prisoner, but he’s sure Oikawa wouldn’t mind that he was using them on you. If anything, the brunette would probably be jealous that he’d claimed you first. 

Time ceases to exist as Matsukawa watches you, fingers idly tapping away on buttons and a smirk spreading across his face at how receptive you are to the setting changes, how little he has to do to have your body contorting and your voice wantonly wailing as orgasm after orgasm is ripped from you. But he grows tired of watching from afar after he forces you to break apart countless times and he draws near, stroking his now fully erect cock as he mockingly whistles at how you’ve soaked the bed sheets near your cunt and drenched the lights shoved against your folds, laughing at how your back arches and your eyes roll back when he roughly pinches and twists your nipples. 

It’s like you were made to be played with. And suddenly Matsukawa can’t get his hands on his new toy fast enough, unwinding the soaked string of lights from your lower half and bending your legs before retying the lower strands of lights so that they bind your calves to your thighs, enjoying the view as the vibrator in your pussy easily slips out from your loosened sopping wet hole while he teasingly pulls and shoves back in the large vibrating plug he keeps nestled inside of your ass. 

You really are just like a sex toy or a fuck doll, other than that scowl on your face and the raging hate and disgust in your eyes. But the fierce look only stirs deeper lust and anticipation in the officer as he eagerly awaits the moment you completely break because of him, large hands easily hauling your bound body by the waist and forcing you to straddle his lap as he reclines against his headboard, smiling at how rage turns to a gorgeous look of fear when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your glistening entrance. 

It really is admirable how you hopelessly fight against him, against gravity as his hands guide you down and down, despair, pain, and maybe something on the border of pleasure overtaking you as you sink on an enemy’s shaft seemingly forever, the girth alone already stretching you far more than the vibrator had. But it’s the length that tears you apart and Matsukawa is painstakingly meticulous about making sure you swallow him at an agonizingly slow pace, making sure you have no choice but to feel every bit of him that enters you, that drags against your walls, further and further until you swear he’s in your cervix, in your stomach. 

You hate how sensitive his earlier torment has made you, how your pleasure addicted body is already chasing after another orgasm, your pussy fluttering in excitement around the new object filling it, your mouth drooling and unable to close as your mind goes blank from the sensation of being double stuffed again. And you sob in relief when you finally bottom out before you can humiliate yourself by cumming yet again, tensing as you wait for your captor to ruthlessly fuck you right away. 

But nothing happens and you stare in astonishment as Matsukawa merely reaches over to his nightstand to pick up a book, flipping through pages as you sit in his lap. 

“Be a good cock warmer and just stay still and look pretty, okay?” 

Humiliation courses through you at his words, but you obey. Or at least you try your best to. But he’s set you up for failure as the hand not holding his reading material finds its way between your legs, calloused fingertips gently and slowly rubbing against your clit in a way that has your body heating up, has your hips unconsciously grinding as they chase the building inferno inside of you until you’re desperately humping him like a bitch in heat in search of relief. And Matsukawa irritatedly sighs. 

“Aren’t fuck dolls supposed to just stay still and be quiet? If you want to cum that badly and distract me, at least entertain me.” 

You don’t even have the presence of mind to pay him any attention as you keep on bouncing as much as you can with your limited movement, completely ignorant of how he tosses his book to the side and rummages through the opened gift box besides him, a pleased hum escaping him when he pulls out two jingling objects. 

But you do notice the piercing pain from both your nipples as incredible pressure is applied to them and you scream as Matsukawa adjusts the nipple clamps, whimpering when he smacks your breasts and the bells attached to the devices loudly ring. Satisfied with your new decorations, once again he wraps his large hands around your waist and you wail as you’re easily lifted and slammed back down, face burning with shame and embarrassment when you realize you’re being fucked to the rhythm of Jingle Bells, the bells lewdly swinging from your sensitive buds only emphasizing your pathetic position with every shrill chime. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You shouldn’t be moaning like a whore. You shouldn’t be on the verge of yet another mind blowing orgasm. And you clench your eyes shut as you try to remember your home, remember your family, remember your friends, anything to distract you from the present. But Matsukawa has other plans for you and pleasure and pain strike you down like a bolt of lightning when he rips the clamps off of you and you let out an animalistic sound of ecstasy as you experience your most intense orgasm yet, one that has you twitching and mindless, slumping against the broad body in front of you in post-coital bliss and exhaustion.  

But you weakly cry out when large hands hold you still as strong hips thrust up hard into you. 

“Your performance was so good that now I’m in the mood.” 

All your pride goes down the drain as you beg and plead for him to let you rest, to stop, making a mess of his shirt and neck as your tears and snot smear across skin and fabric as you exhaustedly bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, crying even harder when fingers trace slow patterns on one ass cheek before slapping you harshly to shut up your whining. 

“A toy’s job is to make its owner feel good. Plus, I’m curious just how durable you are. Clearly if you’re conscious enough to annoy me with all your sniveling, then you’re in good enough shape for me to use some more.” 

You can only brokenly cry as he rails you from below, your torso still propped against him, face still buried in his shoulder, as he manhandles your body, forcefully slamming you down with every thrust, making sure you’re completely filled and unable to escape the delirious fullness and stimulation. And you can’t even breathe, unable to think of anything except for the aching overwhelming feeling bubbling inside of you, threatening to consume you as you’re brought to new highs over and over again.

But your weakened body can only take so much and your squeals trail off into silence, darkness encroaching on your consciousness as your body shuts down from overexertion. It’s too much and you gladly and wearily welcome slumber, can practically taste it on your tongue as a part of you shatters deep inside when you vaguely register the hot thick spurts filling your insides as Matsukawa slams balls deep inside of you one final time. 

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut and you can feel your breathing begin to even out, but panic forces you to stay awake and alert when a low teasing voice murmurs into your ear. 

“You lasted longer than I thought, but I guess you’re officially out of batteries now. Don’t worry. I’ll charge you right back up.”

You don’t know what he has planned for you, but it can’t be anything good and despite how fatigued you are, you thrash and wiggle, doing everything you can to avoid the inevitable despite your still bound position. But it’s useless and you feel so small, so vulnerable as you’re shoved face down in the corner of his room, twisting just enough to see Matsukawa holding the vibrator that had been inside of you earlier and plugging it to an outlet in the wall. And your heart plummets when he gives you a lazy grin as he abruptly shoves the toy inside of you once more. 

“Can’t have it running out of batteries while it keeps you loose and wet for me.”

You kick and scream as he adjusts the lights wrapped around your legs once again, only pausing as he rains down hard and heavy hits to your ass, and if you felt vulnerable before, you feel absolutely pathetic now with a strand of lights keeping both the vibrator and plug firmly inside of you once again and your binds adjusted until you’re in a hog-tie position. But you don’t have time to dwell too much on it, not when both vibrator and plug are suddenly set at their highest settings and you shriek, tears streaming down your face from the onslaught of sensations in your already spent body. 

And you can only feel, feel, and feel, brain dead and numb to anything else happening around you. Even when Matsukawa crouches in front of you, you just dumbly stare at him as drool trickles from your mouth and lewd moans spill from your lips. 

But even in your depraved state, the last dregs of your pride shout at you to do something, anything, as the officer holds a pair of socks and black briefs in front of your face. 

“As beautiful as you sound, I can’t have the entire unit complaining about how loud my little doll is. And toys don’t need to talk or see anyway, so I’m going to wrap you back up until I’m ready to use you again, okay?”

It’s a rhetorical question and before you can even think of retorting, the socks are brutally shoved into your mouth and you gag and choke as long fingers cruelly push and push, practically deep-throating you with the thick fabric, more hot tears cascading down your face as he removes his now saliva coated digits and wipes them clean on your face. 

But as the elastic band of his briefs are pulled over your head and snapped into place right beneath your eyes, rendering your eyesight useless, making the buzzing torment in your lower regions even more prominent, you go completely limp save for the uncontrollable tremors of pleasure, any fight you had in you shattered into a million pieces as you fully register what has happened and what you have been reduced to. 

And Matsukawa takes a moment to appreciate how broken you are already, barely looking human with the glow of the Christmas lights surrounding you and your facial features hidden for the most part by his briefs, looking every bit like a depraved whore, like human furniture, like a lewd object to be used by anyone, anytime. 

But Matsukawa has never been good at sharing his belongings and he plucks a permanent marker from his desk, scribbling dark unmistakable lines across both your ass cheeks, smirking down at his new mark of ownership. 

Issei’s Toy

The words look good on you. His name looks good on you. 

Maybe if you survive his treatment long enough, he’d get it permanently tattooed into your skin. Maybe he’d carve it into your skin. Maybe he’d burn it into your skin…

The possibilities are endless, but for now, he has an appearance to make, sighing tiredly at the responsibilities he has as a senior officer. Curse Oikawa and his insistence that all of the Seijoh Four had to at least show face at the beginning and end of the holiday party. And he rolls his eyes as he straightens out his uniform and throws on his jacket. 

But before he departs, he spares you one more glance, mood instantly lighting up when he sees your wrecked pitiful form laying on his ground like a forgotten toy. 

At least something good came out of this dreadful day, he thinks, as he quietly hums Jingle Bells all the way down to the mess hall. 

[drowningbydegrees]

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Read on AO3

He can’t remember the last time waking up was a remotely soothing experience. Geralt’s sleep muzzy mind has no other word for the body plastered against his front from shoulder to hip, the steady heartbeat against his palm where his hand is splayed out across someone’s chest. His nose is tucked against the nape of someone’s neck, and the scent is far too familiar to be jarring.

“Jaskier,” he rumbles quietly, his mouth miles ahead of the rest of him. The quiet, absent pleasure of waking up tangled with someone who smells sleepy and content and like they’re his leaves no room for reason. There’s no room for anything really, except to press a kiss to whatever patch of skin he can find, savoring the soft sigh it earns him.

Jaskier is… The night before rushes back to him, and Geralt almost jerks away, even though it would be entirely pointless to bother with that now. He cracks an eye open and is met with the disaster that Jaskier’s hair, mussed in the night by sleep, and by Geralt’s fingers buried in it before that. Even as worry begins to creep in, he sort of wants to do it again.

This isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed. This probably isn’t even the hundredth time they’ve shared a bed. This is most definitely the first time they’ve done so with so little clothing between them, none to be exact. There’s only the blanket tucked around them both, warm and lovely and unexpectedly distressing.

Geralt isn’t sorry, per se. Jaskier’s chest rises and falls under Geralt’s palm in the slow rhythm of sleep. It’s the loveliest thing Geralt can remember waking up to, and therein lies the problem. An emotion fed only grows, and this unruly, sprawling affection is the worst offender. Stupidly, Geralt had thought getting this out of his system would quell it, but the longing reaches a fever pitch instead.

Jaskier is beautiful, all the more so for the way he shifts in his sleep, closing the gap Geralt has tried to put between them. Geralt could happily wake like this every day for the rest of his life, but it isn’t a fair thing to ask of someone who flits from one love to the next like a butterfly between flowers. He will not trap Jaskier in this just because he happens to be besotted. Somehow, the resolve not to try to keep this does nothing to ease the guilt welling up that he wants to in the first place.

Nothing Jaskier said the night before conveyed meaning beyond a playful desire to tumble into bed together. Moving the target now would only be cruel. He should be rolling out of bed, hastening them back to normal. He should be proving that this has done nothing to harm their friendship. It isn’t Jaskier’s fault, after all, the way Geralt wants to breathe him in and kiss him senseless and forget the rest of the world until the innkeeper boots them out.

“Geralt?” Jaskier startles the witcher from his worries, wriggling impossibly closer and laying a palm over his knuckles. “You okay?”

“Thinking,” Geralt replies vaguely.

“Well, don’t hurt yourself,” Jaskier teases, still warm and lethargic with sleep. Geralt almost manages to take advantage of the levity of the moment and extricate himself, but before he can, Jaskier rolls over so they’re nearly nose to nose. His fingers cradle Geralt’s cheek and any attempt to escape now would just be graceless. “What about?”

Geralt doesn’t know how to answer, so he only hums noncommittally and hopes Jaskier will let it lie. Of course, Jaskier being Jaskier, does no such thing. He takes advantage of the change in positions to tangle his legs up with Geralt. “I can’t tell you to knock it off if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“We should get going.” Geralt tries once more to escape, frowning when Jaskier shows no sign of releasing him. It’s silly of course. Jaskier couldn’t hope to hold him here if Geralt was set on leaving. He just can’t actually make himself do it.

“Was it that bad a night?” It’s an easy opening, an invitation to stray back to their usual banter, but Geralt gets no further than a raised eyebrow before Jaskier is clasping a hand over the witcher’s mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that or I might have to smother you with a pillow and that’ll just be unfortunate for both of us.”

Right there, with Jaskier smiling at him, Geralt can almost believe they’re going to survive this. Almost, but almost still leaves a distance he cannot cross. As soon as Jaskier pulls his hand back from Geralt’s mouth, the witcher opens it. “They’re not going to let us sleep in forever.”

“They might if I convince them to let me play again this evening. We could move on tomorrow,” Jaskier ventures, but something in Geralt’s face must give him pause. “Oh do not look at me like that. The world isn’t going to end just because you stop to take a breath once in a while, Geralt.”

“That’s not…” Geralt starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish. There are no words that convey the razor wire sensation of facing down the impermanence of Jaskier’s affections, of realizing how deeply his own feelings run far too late.

“Shh.” Geralt knew what to do with impulse, with Jaskier’s mouth crashing into his, with Jaskier’s hands scrabbling at him to shed his clothes. He doesn’t know what to do with the tender, intentional way Jaskier regards him this morning, lips pressing to the witcher’s brow and lingering afterwards. Does it mean something, or does Jaskier grant all his lovers this subdued, aimless devotion? Lust was so much simpler than this aching sort of affection that puts down roots even as Geralt tries to burn it away.

Geralt doesn’t precisely surrender, but he resigns himself to the lazy attention Jaskier is so determined to lavish on him. If he lets Jaskier turn him away later instead of now, there will be at least this one pleasant thing to remember. So he doesn’t complain at Jaskier’s fingers combing through his hair, or the bard’s body pressed warmly to his. If every touch feels like a harbinger of their demise, it’s still hard to let go of.

He almost passes things off as okay, he thinks, until Jaskier kisses him. It’s a brief thing, immediately withdrawn. “Geralt?”

If realizing the hopeless situation he’s stumbled into was uncomfortable, the idea of talking about it is nothing short of torture.

“Well, you haven’t shoved me out of bed yet, so you’re not mad. Talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, his expression so openly concerned and affectionate, Geralt could scream.

“It’s no-” Geralt starts, but Jaskier shut him up with a theatrically sour look.

“I swear if you say nothing,” Jaskier threatens aimlessly, an easy smile on his lips, but underneath, Geralt can hear the way his anxious heart threatens to vibrate right out of his chest.

“I don’t know what this is,” Geralt admits because that, at least, is safe. It’s nothing about how he feels in relation to anything. It’s nothing about the want that simmers under the surface despite his guilt.

Jaskier’s brows scrunch in a way that would be endearing if the entire ordeal didn’t feel so fraught already. “I don’t think I follow. I mean, I know having a conversation isn’t your usual wheelhouse, but it’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

“Not. That.” Geralt bites the words out, tight and clipped while he gathers his frayed nerves enough to explain. “You’re not in the habit of keeping people. I don’t know what you want.”

For just a second, Jaskier looks like he’s been struck and Geralt wants desperately to take the whole thing back. But the bard’s expression smooths out and then twists up in a wry smile. “Of course I don’t. What would I even do? Drag someone else along on our travels?”

There’s a point Jaskier is making. It’s right there. He knows it is, but it eludes Geralt anyway. “You could have stayed somewhere if there was someone you wanted to stick around for.”

Jaskier laughs, just a giggle at first, and then so hard that even his efforts to bury his face against Geralt’s shoulder do nothing to stifle it. “You are absolutely right. I could fall completely and utterly in love with someone and choose to stick around.”

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” Geralt says flatly, staring at the far wall of their room. The urge to curl around Jaskier and forget the whole stupid conversation in strong, and maybe he’d have been better off doing that in the first place, but he doesn’t surrender to it.

“Well, you’re one of the smartest people I know, so these moments where you decide to be an absolute idiot happen to be hilarious,” Jaskier teases. The bard must take pity, because his palm slides to cradle Geralt’s jaw, and Jaskier puts himself right at eye level where the witcher can’t look away. “Don’t you realize? I fell in love with someone, and I chose to stick around. It happened ages ago.”

Geralt has long since given up on trying to anticipate what Jaskier will say to any given prompt, but that is… somehow not even on the same continent as anything he might have expected. “What?”

“You really are determined to make this as difficult and stressful for me as possible, aren’t you?” Jaskier asks. There’s a tightness around his eyes when he looks at Geralt, leaving the witcher with the awful realization that Jaskier must be flying as blind as he is. He’s probably as unsure of Geralt’s intent as Geralt is of his. And yet… “I chose you, you ridiculous man. I always choose you.”

That… that explains a lot, actually. Geralt swallows thickly as Jaskier’s nose bumps against his. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

“Ah yes. ‘Hello my very dear emotionally… hampered witcher who will sometimes, on a very good day, admit that we are friends. Would it it complicate things overly much if I also happened to be completely, utterly in love with you?’” Jaskier huffs out a helpless, almost panicky sort of laugh. “Tell me Geralt, is there any time in the last few years where that would have gone well?”

Years? Now, confronted with the full force of it, Geralt isn’t sure how he even missed it last night, let alone for so long. Now that he knows it’s always been a bit painfully obvious. And much as he’d like to, he can’t really argue against Jaskier’s point that it probably wouldn’t have gone well to say so. “What changed?”

Jaskier sighs in that dramatic, overdone way he tends to when he’s being asked what he thinks is an exceedingly silly question. “You did.”

“Hmm.” Geralt doesn’t comment and Jaskier doesn’t press for further conversation. It’s peaceful, this thing blossoming between them, now that his most immediate concerns have been silenced.

That Jaskier laid his heart on the line and asked for nothing back isn’t lost on Geralt though. The words catch and stick on his throat, so Geralt writes them into the tender way he traces the curve of Jaskier’s spine with his fingertips. He presses them against Jaskier’s lips, jaw, throat with lazy, lingering kisses.

“So tell me-” Jaskier starts, the words interrupted by a soft sigh as Geralt’s thumb skims the divot of his hip. It’s an unmistakably promising sound all by itself, even ignoring that delightful way Jaskier presses into the touch. He finishes his thought, but it’s unmistakably breathless. “What are you thinking now?”

The recognition that this isn’t some fluke settles warmly around him. This could be always. There are so few things a witcher really keeps, but for now he’s willing to entertain the notion that this might be one of them.

“I’m thinking…” Geralt mumbles against the side of Jaskier’s neck, delighting in the way the bard’s fingers tangle in his hair and tug. “That maybe we’ll leave tomorrow.”

[sinnaminsuga]

(GIF was sent to me by a friend so i'm not sure of the owner! if it's you let me know so i can credit you!)

Title: Be Gentle With Him

Summary: just some soft geralt. he deserves the world.

Word Count: 1,130

A/N: hello! this idea just popped up in my head and the lovely @wendimydarling encouraged me to write it out! wendi i cant thank you enough for being so sweet to me and always being there for whatever dumb questions i have 😂💕

Tags: @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @infinite-shite @inlovewithhisblueeyes @october505 @hope-to-hell @littlefreya @viking-raider @the-soot-sprite @raspberrydreamclouds @thelastsock @connieisland @nuggsmum @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @geek-eat-repeat @oddsnendsfanfics @oddduckthatgirl @feralrunaway @its--fandom--darling @madbaddic7ed

(if i missed you let me know or if you want to be removed also let me know! ☺️💛)

This hunt had been particularly grueling. I knew by the way Geralt had come limping to my front door in much worse shape than when he’d left. Seeing him in such a state threw me into nurture mode and I pulled the large man through the door of my cottage just as I had many times before. Silently Geralt slumped into a chair at my kitchen table as I began to fix him a proper meal while also collecting the things I’d need to soothe whatever ailments he most likely had brought home with him.

After he was fed and mended, I drew a bath. There was no doubt that his muscles were sore and tired, the man was a monster hunter for god's sake. Swinging a sword around and dancing with death every day took a toll on his body no matter how much Geralt wouldn't admit it. I searched through my cabinets of herbs, potions, and elixirs to find the right combination. I began adding my collection of items to a bowl, under the watchful gaze of the witcher. Almond, chamomile, and lavender oils joined dried calendula and rose petals in the bowl. After adding a dash of red clover blossoms, I made my way back to the tub to turn off the faucet. I retrieved the bowl and scattered its contents into the water, the inviting scent eventually taking over the room.

Geralt sat in the corner, still silent, but observing. Once the bath preparation was finished I made my way to him and slowly started ridding him of his clothing, and he just let me. When he was fully undressed, I removed my own clothing and stepped into the tub, motioning for him to join me. I sat with him between my legs, and began gently washing his broad body. He hummed every now and then as the cloth travelled over his skin and I found myself smiling a little, happy that he was finally letting me take care of him. I scrubbed his scalp and hair with a mixture I’d concocted, effectively stripping the dirt and grime from him.

When I'd finished cleaning Geralt I tugged him back to lay against my chest. He needed to rest and I was determined to help him. We layed there in the steaming water, my hands tracing his shoulders and digging into the muscles of his strong neck every so often, peppering soft kisses over his exposed skin and now clean hair. Suddenly his breathing became uneven and his shoulders slumped against me. I softly tilted his head so I could see his face and that's when I saw. He was crying. Geralt of Rivia, the mighty White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was crying in my arms. The offending briny liquid slipped down his cheeks in what seemed to be a constant flow and he attempted to tear his amber gaze away from my face, but I wasn't having it. “Geralt, sweetheart, speak to me.” I said landing a kiss to his forehead.

“It seems to be becoming increasingly more difficult to leave you, little dove.” He spoke quietly. “And I know I must go. I have to provide for you somehow. But my heart longs to be here, with you. And it's making me clumsy. I’m so wrapped up in thoughts of you and my desire to return home, that I miss things. I never miss things, little dove. Never. I let a monster get the drop on me because I was too busy planning my route home. I don't think I can keep doing it. But then I think “what use would she have for me if I was around all the time?”. You’ll grow tired of me dove, I know you will. And then what? What's this old witcher to do then hmm?” He finished speaking and sniffed a few times before attempting to turn away again.

Bracing my hands on both sides of his face, I forced Geralt to look at me again. “Now you listen here good sir. I will never grow tired of you. Never. Do you know how many nights I've spent laying awake, wishing you weren't out there in harm's way? How much I wished you would return home days early?” I said, fingertips brushing over his cheek. “You don't have to do this Geralt. I’d take you as a monster hunter or a farmer or a stableman. It doesn't matter to me. We’ll find a way to get by no matter what you choose to do. Your mother stole that choice from you long ago and I won't be involved in doing that to you for a second time. You can be whatever you want. As long as you're mine.” I whispered into his hair. “Come now. The water is getting cold.” I said, moving to extract us both from the now tepid water.

The conversation in the bath seemed to be cathartic for Geralt and he was in a much better mood, teasing me as I dressed and tickling me whenever I passed by him. “Would you mind doing something about this, little dove?” He asked shyly, a small smile gracing his beautiful face as he gestured to his fresh clean hair. I nodded emphatically and grabbed a brush and some small thin leather strips from my drawer, then made myself comfortable on the bed while directing Geralt to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. He grabbed a book from my shelf and made himself comfortable. “Read to me Geralt.”

I started slowly and gently detangling his long hair. Parting it down the middle, I listened as his voice rumbled out the words from the book in his big hands. I couldn't help but marvel at his hair, it truly was beautiful. Soft and silky, it slipped through my fingers like rays of moonlight. The more I toyed with the strands, the more I could feel him leaning into my touch, happy and comfortable. I continued to part and weave his hair into two wide braids, tying off the ends with the leather strips. A few wispy pieces too short to stay anchored within the braids, framed his face and curled around his ears. I slid out from behind him and knelt between his open legs, my hands holding his cheeks. “So beautiful. Truly.” I whispered as my eyes roamed his face, meticulously committing the sight of his blushing cheeks and wide smile to my memory. Before I could do anything else, Geralt pulled me up from my kneeling position and cradled me in his lap.

“You make me want to be a softer man little dove. A kinder man. I think that is what I shall become. A better man. For you.”

THE END

[peonysink]

The Void (The Portrait)

pairing: Gregor x original fem. character

words: 4,4k

warning: smut, 18+, vaginal fingering, piv sex. some angst. but mainly a lot of fluff :)

part 3/4

Summary: Basically, Gregor deserves all the love in the world and this is him receiving it <3

He let go of her hands suddenly and took one step back.

“I am so sorry!” - he said, his cheeks blushing. “I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean to…”

She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. She didn’t see it coming - a kiss! A kiss like that! Perhaps because it’s been a while, or perhaps because she had been so focused on running and getting as far as possible from Borkus’ house, but either way, a kiss was the last thing she expected. But what a surprise it was. She could feel her whole body starting to react to him - to him just standing so close to her. She felt hot all of a sudden as if there was a heat radiating from him.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” - she finally said, quietly. His eyes caught hers again, curious. “I liked it!” - she added, and she could feel that it was now her turn to blush.

Damn, we’re like two teenagers!

“You did?” - Gregor’s eyes widened.

She nodded and smiled, finding his genuine surprise adorable.

“Yes.” - she said and took one step closer to him. Gregor kept staring at her, still not really daring to touch her again.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?” - he whispered.

She shook her head, not able to respond properly as she felt some new, almost long-forgotten emotions waking up in her and overwhelming her. She knew she wanted this from the first moment she saw Gregor, but the feeling of being attracted to someone was so foreign to her after all that time in isolation on Abafar. She never thought she’d ever feel like this again, but she did, and he was there, wrapping his hands around her waist and finding her lips in yet another gentle kiss. She hugged him back and pulled him closer to her, cherishing the feeling of his body pressed against hers.

His kiss was passionate and more determined this time. His tongue touched her bottom lip, and she responded, granting him access and feeling his tongue on hers. He pulled her closer to him and soon there was no space left between them. She could feel him grow and the bulge in his pants twitch. He looked at her, aware of his arousal and the look in his eyes almost apologetic.

“I… I feel like I’ve done this before, this feeling is very familiar but…but I have no recollection…” - he mumbled.

“It’s been a while for me too -  it’s been so long, that I barely have any memories of it as well...” She chuckled. Gregor’s face was still serious, and she wondered what went on in his mind at that moment.

“We’re quite a team, aren’t we?” - he smiled, as he gently brushed her cheek with his thumb.

She smiled back and kissed him, tangling her fingers in the zipper of his yellow vest and pulling it down. As she unzipped it, Gregor took it off and threw it on the floor. The look in his eyes was unmistakable, but Gregor still seemed to hesitate to make a move. But she couldn’t wait anymore, feeling an urge and a desire so strong it overpowered her. She pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a band covering her breasts. It took all of Gregor's shattered self-control not to rip the rest of her clothes off in one motion.

“Would you like to help me take it off?”- she asked him - “You can just unhook it here.” - she showed him, and Gregor did, immediately reaching behind her back, finding those hooks and unhooking them and tossing the band to the floor. The look in his eyes at the sight of her naked breasts in front of him was indescribable.

“I don’t remember ever doing this before…” - Gregor whispered, his eyes on her swollen breast, “but somehow I know exactly what to do… what I want to do to you”. - he raised his eyes and looked at her.

She felt electricity shoot through her entire body. She was painfully aware of the dampness gathering between her legs and her aching pussy clenching at his every touch and every word.

“If you want me too… “ - Gregor added, and all she did was nod, all she could do was nod, as her words failed her. Perhaps they were two people with memories of previous passions far gone, but right there, at that moment they were making a new memory, one that would stay buried in their minds for a very long time. Their bodies reacting to every touch, him discarding his clothes in swift moves and her following, his hands touching her breasts in a most gentle way, worshipping them and her whole body, that moment was theirs to create and share, and the absence of any memories of the previous ones was irrelevant.

Gregor picked her up and carried her to the bed and laid her down slowly. He reached for the waistband of her pants, pulling them slowly down, and leaving her only in her panties. He got up to take his shirt off, but then he caught the sight of her lying on the bed, her long hair spread out, her naked body in front of him and he almost gasped. He stayed that way for a moment, just gazing at her, almost as if he wanted to take a mental picture.

“You are so beautiful!” - he finally said, and she smiled, extending her arm to him. He pulled his pants down too, leaving his shorts on before he joined her in bed. He worshipped her body, covering her in kisses everywhere he could reach. His hands roamed across her breasts, her waist and digging deeper into her buttocks. She only had one partner before, and that was years ago, both of them late teenagers at the time, and the experience was nothing like this. The sensuality with which Gregor touched her was something she read about in romance novels or something she thought only happened in holodramas.

She felt him grow harder in his shorts, and she instinctively pressed her body closer to his, feeling his arousal against her lower stomach, making Gregor growl deep in his throat.

“I want you” - he whispered in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe, and she could feel how much he meant it.

“Then take me” - she said, and he dragged his fingers down her body, reaching her pussy and stroking her over her soaked panties. She felt a bit embarrassed that her underwear was so wet, and he noticed her slightly wince as he touched her. He removed his hand, but he kissed her blushing cheeks, first the one and then the other and moved his lips again closer to her ear:

“I love how wet you are for me, baby girl” - he whispered - “Is it okay if I do this?”

His hand was back on her again,  swiftly moving the fabric of her panties to the side. She felt his finger on her sensitive skin, tracing her dampness and reaching her entrance.

She nodded, closing her eyes. He pressed his finger slowly inside her:

“How about this?” - he whispered, his soft beard gently tickling the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Yes, yes!” - she panted, feeling his thick finger entering her, and finding that sensitive spot deep inside her, the one she never could reach on her own.

Gregor twisted his finger slightly and massaged the spongy spot he found, and then slightly pulled out only to press inside her again, this time adding another finger. She arched her back, digging her fingers in Gregor’s shoulders.

Gregor loved seeing her like that and couldn’t take his eyes off her. The sensation he was feeling was a familiar one, arousal so strong that it was almost becoming painful, but he didn’t have any memories of ever experiencing it before. He felt like a virgin, like she was the first woman he ever touched, and it made the already special experience even more unique.

She could feel the hardness in his shorts every time she arched her body against his fingers, and she saw a damp spot that was forming at the tip of his arousal, staining his shorts. She touched him over his shorts and he sucked air hard at her unexpected move.

“I want you inside me, Gregor, I can’t wait anymore!” - she panted, and Gregor didn't need to be told twice. He pulled his shorts down in a swift move, pulling his fingers out and lining his tip against her hot entrance. He pressed slowly in, cherishing the feeling, finally getting some relief to his aching arousal. He was going slowly, but she could feel the stretch, feeling slight pain and wincing. Gregor noticed that and stopped immediately, but she opened her eyes and encouraged him to keep going.

“Just go slow, it’s okay, I can take it..” - she said, and he did, filling her up, gently and passionately.

When he finally bottomed out he took a moment to check on her again, and she nodded, moving under him, arching her body, and encouraging him to keep going. Gregor pulled out, leaving only the tip in and then pressed all the way into her again, starting his thrusts, slowly, while watching her face for cues. The pain she initially felt was soon replaced with pleasure, as she relaxed her face and started moaning, feeling him reach deep inside her.

As his movements became faster her gasping became louder and she held onto him, repeating his name, feeling his lips everywhere on her skin, as he was taking her, fast and hard.

She could feel the pressure building up in her clit, and she managed to whisper to him that she was close, wrapping her arms even tighter around his body:

“I can feel it, baby girl, I feel you, let go…” - and she did, her whole body tightening around him while crying out his name. It only took a few more thrusts for him to reach his own peak, pulling out just in time and pumping himself, groaning and spraying hot white streaks over her lower stomach. His head dropped down onto her shoulder and she held him, staying that way for a while, both of them out of breath. As their breathing calmed he lifted his head, gazing intensely into her soft eyes:

“That was incredible” - he whispered.

She smiled.

“Yes, it was!”

—

Gregor woke up in the middle of the night, only this time it wasn’t a nightmare that woke him. It was the feel of a warm body pressed against his, and it took him a moment to realise who that was and what was happening. But then it sank in and Gregor was almost overwhelmed by the sense of calm and serenity that surrounded him. It felt good to have her in his bed and feel her hand resting on his chest. It felt good to listen to her calm breathing, and feel her warm body cling to his. He planted a kiss on her forehead, gently and slowly, trying not to wake her up, but she moved slightly, and he saw her lips widening into a subtle smile, her eyes still shut.

“You can’t get one night of proper sleep because of me!” - Gregor whispered. “I keep waking you up”.

She opened her eyes, and cuddled closer to him, feeling his hand under her shoulder squeeze her tighter to him.

“I don’t mind being woken up like this.” - she whispered back.

Gregor kissed her again.

“You can’t sleep? - she asked him.

“No… I can’t sleep more than an hour or so…” - he replied -  “I wake up, thoughts start stirring and I can’t fall back to sleep again.”

“What are you thinking about now?”

“Now?” - Gregor said, running his hand up and down her arm.  “Honestly just how lucky I am to have met you.”

She smiled.

“I feel the same way.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without you!“

“Oh, Gregor… ! - she said, placing a quick kiss on his chest. “Honey... I wish I could do more, I wish I could help you get your memory back…”

“I know, baby girl… me too.”

For a moment, Gregor's thoughts seemed to wander, and then he looked at her, hesitating for a moment. Finally, he decided to ask:

“How did you end up here?”

She shifted a bit and lifted her head off his shoulder. Gregor could feel that her whole body tensed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, we don’t have to talk about that!” - he said as he planted a kiss on her shoulder.

“No it’s fine, it’s just... I never talked about that with anyone here. You don’t talk about these things on Abafar… “

“You can talk to me!” - Gregor said as he stroked her hair. “I hope you know that. I wish I could tell you my story… I’d love to do that one day…”

She was quiet for a while. Abafar made her reclusive and introverted, but she wasn’t always like that. She longed for the kind of closeness she was feeling with Gregor all of her life, and she realised how much she wanted to share her story, for quite some time.

“There isn’t much to tell… everyone here is running away from something or someone... I guess it’s no different for me. My sister…. I’m... I was very close to her. It’s just the two of us, she's my only family. She raised me and made sure I always had everything... But I never asked how she earned the credits…”

Gregor was listening, his eyes never leaving hers.

“It turned out she got involved with the wrong people, a street gang, dealing spice…”

Her eyes dropped as she said that and Gregor’s hand tightened around her.

“I don’t know all the details, but a large amount of spice went missing and people who owned it weren’t going to let it go. Somehow she and two others were blamed and they started threatening them. Finally, they gave them an ultimatum - return the spice or get the credits, or else they’ll start abducting their family members, one by one.” - she felt tears in her eyes, but she suppressed them, taking a deep breath and continuing the story.

“My sister didn’t want to take any chances and one night she got me on a ship and told me I was going to someplace special and that it was a surprise. She gave me a box, and made me promise I’d first open it when I arrived at this magical place - and that it was all part of the surprise. I was 17, and I didn’t really believe her, but I played along, never imagining that she could do something like… like this.” A tear rolled down her cheek, Gregor catching it immediately and wiping it away.

“When the ship arrived here, the people on the ship ordered me to disembark, unwilling to answer any of my questions. I opened the box she gave me, and I found a letter.  She had written she was sorry, and how she had no choice but to do this… Send me to a most reclusive part of the galaxy. That I had to trust her, and that I’d be safe here. She said she wanted to protect me till she solved the mess she got herself in, and that she’d come and get me when it was safe…”

Gregor was almost afraid to ask the next question but he did:

“When was that, when did you arrive here?”

“7 years ago!” -  she said, “7 years and 58 days.”

“I’m so sorry, baby, that must have been incredibly difficult for you” - Gregor said, planting another kiss on her temple. “To be here alone, not knowing where she was, and how she was…”

She nodded, moving her head back, placing it on Gregor’s chest. She felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from her shoulders. Sharing her story, telling HIM her story felt incredibly liberating.

“It was. The first month, I cried all day every day. I wanted to die. I hated it here - no one talked to me, no one was interested in me. Everyone just minded their own business. So then I realised I had to help myself - no one else was going to.”

“Is that why you’re helping me know?” - Gregor suddenly asked.

She shrugged.

“I know what it's like to be completely alone and desperate in a foreign place…: and I wish someone told me that when I first arrived here.”

Gregor took a deep breath, his fingers tangling in her hair, caressing her.

“But that’s not the only reason” - she added, catching his gaze again.

“I like you, Gregor, I liked you from the first moment I saw you…” - she said, slightly surprising herself with her blunt honesty. But then again, living in such an isolated place for so long teaches you to grasp and hold on to every opportunity life offers you.

Gregor looked genuinely touched by her words and he smiled.

“I like you too, baby girl… in fact when I first saw you I couldn’t even look at you because I found you so beautiful.” -

“Really?” - she teased him - “Because I felt like you kept staring at me!”

Gregor blushed.

“Oh no!” - he said - “I wasn’t aware of that.” - he smiled embarrassedly.

She smiled back and planted a kiss on his soft beard.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, baby!” - he added.

“No, no… you didn’t. I liked it. I don’t think I could ever get tired of seeing your eyes everywhere, Gregor!”

—--

The next few days were wonderful. As they worked at the diner, they sneaked glances and secretly touched each other whenever they had the chance, and where no one could see them, counting moments till they’d go home and be together. As soon as they’d enter their little basement apartment they wouldn’t be able to hold their hands off of each other. She started sleeping in Gregor’s bed and they’d make love every night till they’d fall asleep exhausted in each other’s arms.

One night, as they finished dinner, Gregor looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated.

“Gregor, is everything alright?” - she asked him.

“Everything’s fine, baby girl, I was just thinking… “- he hesitated.

“What?”

“I was thinking how I never want to forget you!” - he said. His words carried a sense of sorrow and fear that was almost tangible.

She sat in silence, moved by his words, but unable to find the right words to answer him. She wasn’t sure what brought that on, but she could guess.

“Sometimes when I look at your face I try to memorise every line, every part, I try to store it somewhere deep in my memory,  but…  how can I ever be sure that it won’t be wiped away from it, the same way my other memories have been….” - he stopped, not being able to finish that sentence.

“Gregor - she said, touching his arm across the table - “You’ll remember, I’m sure, your memory will return. You just need time and some help… if we could get a hold of something from your past I’m sure that would help. We’ll go to Borkus’ basement again, and try to see what’s in that crate. That will help, I’m sure..”

“I - I know, baby girl, I know, but…” - he hesitated again.

“What, tell me!” - she could sense he had something on his mind but was holding back.

“Do you know that older Twi’lek gentleman from the diner, you know the one with the newspaper?” - he asked.

“Yes?”

“Did you know that he’s a painter?

“No, I didn't know that,” she replied, taken slightly aback by the change of topic. “How do you know that?”

“I talked to him. I talk to him almost every day.”- Gregor replied.

Gregor really was new there, she thought to herself. He still didn't get the memo that people didn’t talk to each other on Abafar, or ask each other about their previous lives. But it was endearing that he did that.

“So, I was wondering… if you wouldn’t mind, that is…” - he started rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous, “Would you let him paint you? Your portrait, you know, your face…? I want to have it… if … if you wouldn't mind...” - Gregor looked almost apologetic asking this of her.

“Gregor…” - she said, looking at him, moved and almost fighting tears in her eyes. For a moment, he was concerned that he had said something terribly wrong, something that had crossed the line.

“It’s not a big deal, actually, baby, it was just a silly idea…” - he stammered, rubbing his neck.

She took his other hand in hers, holding his hands across the table and making him look her in the eyes.

“You are not losing your memory again, Gregor, I promise you that!” - she said firmly. His eyes were still sad, but he smiled. “And it would be my honour to pose for a portrait - as a gift to you.”

Gregor widened his eyes and smiled. She saw that her words made him genuinely happy. He brought her hands to his face and kissed them both, gently.

“Thank you!” - he whispered.

The next day he approached the gentlemen from the diner and arranged for him to come by their basement that evening to start working on the portrait. He didn't want to be there for the process - he just wanted to see the finished product. She found it endearing, seeing how much he actually cared about it, how much he wanted the portrait. But it made her sad too, knowing why he was doing it, knowing he was worrying that his memory might always be playing tricks on him. Knowing that he wanted to always remember her face, always carry her face with him in any way possible made her heart ache for him.

The portrait was finished fairly quickly. The gentleman from the diner, whose name she didn't dare to ask, told her that he only did the drawings, simple lines and no colours. She sat, turning her half-profile to him, and he stared at her for a while before he began sketching. He didn't speak, his eyes focused on the canvas, raising them every now and then, analysing the lines and the contours of her face. She noticed how his brows furrowed every now and then as if he wasn’t happy with something, and then moments after his face brightening up again. She was curious to see the finished product, but more than anything, she hoped Gregor would like it.

After almost an hour, he stepped away from the canvas, observed it for a while, then turned it towards her, showing her her portrait. It was beautiful, dreamy somehow - her hair dominating the canvas, flowing around her profile and framing her face. She had a feeling Gregor would love it. She thanked him and asked how much she should pay him, but he shook his head, replying that this was “a favour to that kind young man”. She realised that Gregor was probably the first stranger in quite a long time who actually spoke to him, and how that meant something to him. She smiled and thanked him, and added that she’ll see him tomorrow at breakfast.

When Gregor came back a couple of hours later, he found her in bed, asleep. She left the painting on the kitchen table and covered it with a cloth. Next to it, he found a message:

I hope you’ll know how special you are to me every time you look at this portrait

Gregor unwrapped the portrait slowly, hesitatingly and he almost gasped as he revealed it. Seeing the lines of her face replicated so faithfully in such an original manner, he instinctively touched the canvas, tracing the lines of her hair, her jaw and her lips. He was overwhelmed with emotions, deeply hoping he’d never be in a situation where he’ll be in doubt over who she was - hoping he’ll always remember her. No matter what happened with his previous memories and if they ever came back - these new memories, the ones he was creating with her were the ones he wished to keep forever.

“Do you like it?” - he almost jumped, her voice surprising him. He turned around and saw her sleepy face looking at him.

“Did I wake you up? Again? I’m making a habit out of that…  I’m sorry….” - he asked, stepping closer to her.

“No, it’s okay, I wasn’t really asleep.” - she replied. He came closer to her, and sat on her bed, taking her head in his hands and gazing intensely into her eyes.

“I love it. Thank you so much for posing to him.” - he whispered, touching her cheek.

She smiled:

“It was my pleasure” - she replied, easing her head into his touch.

“I never want to forget you, baby girl, “ - Gregor said as he pulled her closer to him, and hugged her tightly.

“You won’t Gregor, I promise, you’ll…” -

But before she could finish her thought a sound of her comm beeping filled the room.  She looked in the direction of the comm, surprised.

“Who can that be at this hour?” - she said, getting up.

She took the device in her hand and read the message.

“It’s Borkus.” - she said. Gregor got up as well and came closer to her.

“What does he want?” - he asked her.

She was quiet for a while, rereading the message in front of her a few times.

“He wants me to go do the supply run with him tomorrow.” - she said, her voice strained. She turned and looked at Gregor. He could see that something was up.

“What’s wrong?” - he asked her, taking her shoulders in his hands.

“He never asked me to do the supply run with him before. No one ever goes with him, he’s very secretive about it.”

Gregors brows furrowed as he listened.

“I think he knows!” - she whispered. “He’s suspecting something”.

“Don’t go!” - he said, “We’ll think of something. Tell him I’ll go with him!”

She hesitated for a moment, but then she shook her head:

“No!” - she said - “We need to play his game if we want to find any answers. We should let him make the first move - and I think this is it.”

She glanced over at Gregor, noticing he was tightly wringing his hands and shifting from one leg to another. He was worried. She knew a lot of things were at stake for him, but she also realised that they had to take some risks in order to get to the bottom of things. Perhaps she couldn’t really do much to sort her life out, but she could do something to help him sort his - and she was determined to do that!

She came closer to him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t worry, baby,  I’ll be careful, I promise!”

tags: @sugarpuffsstuff

[nishigo]

growing. // razor headcanons & writing. // chapter three.

a book titled “growing.”

[ c h a p t e r 3 : simple love. ]

the synopsis reads: razor and the dear reader have gotten themselves into quite the mess. miscommunications and raised voices lead to an argument that was more heated than a flaming flower. although healing takes time, could a wound this large be repaired?

authors note: tada! welcome to the last chapter of this short and sweet book that has been created. this one is more stuffed with more fluff than the last and lots of smooches. razor deserves the best, after all. after you finish, put the book back properly on the shelf, okay, traveler? that way it’s easier for people to find it. (or yourself, if you desire.) i, hao, the librarian and timekeeper, thank you in advance. now, have fun with this last chapter of the book. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

word count: 1,564 words.

tw: lots of fluff. so much so it could give you a toothache. and kisses as well. a bit of crying in the beginning, but that is all.

request status at time of posting: open.

[ chapter one. ] [ chapter two. ] [ chapter three. ] 

in which there is reconciliation and a bright future planned out underneath a doorway, the moon and stars being the only witness.

would you like to read?

＞　行｡ ( y e s )

＞　不行 。( n o )

------

it would be about three days before you happened to enter mondstadt again.

frankly, you were only in the area because you were passing by, and you were trying to do it as quickly as possible.

after lisa would get her plants and such, you were off again to the inn and then to take up another mission granted to you in the morning.

though, despite the mission you ended up taking solo, you couldn’t stop thinking about that terrible night with razor.

you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him again, knowing that most likely, you’d end up in tears again.

you couldn’t have waterfalls pouring out of your eyes in front of someone that meant so much to you.

but fate seemed to be pushing its luck, and the stars were aligning just for the two of you.

you and razor stared at each other for a moment, as if the other was an apparition and they were dreaming. his rough, calloused hands took a hold of one of your own gentle ones.

no, this was real alright.

the two of you were both afraid to make the first move, but once more, razor used his instinct to initiate what he thought was needed.

his strong arms wrapped around your neck, nuzzling into the soft skin.

you felt so warm.

you felt cozy.

you felt like home.

course, you were caught off guard, and as much as your brain told you to pull away, you heard him whisper into your ear.

“i missed you.”

and then the walls came tumbling down.

your previous attitude towards him was diminished, and you were back to where you started.

you were still in love. and now, he knew he was as well.

Razor pulled away, and for the first time, you were able to take in much more detail than what you had initially seen. There were tired bags under his eyes, his face worn out, as if he had not been able to sleep for weeks. His silver hair was a mess under his hood and his voice was much quieter, as if he was stepping on eggshells while determining how to make his next move. You gently reached out, cupping his cheek with that gentle, comforting smile you always wore.

His body shook as he suddenly felt as if his insides were collapsing. He felt his face grow hot with tears that ran down his pale skin, over his scar, and down onto the tiled floor. He felt so guilty for what he had done to you that he was terrified that you would seek vengeance. Or that you would leave. The latter was much more terrifying, as he hated when you were gone for a few days, how could he handle not seeing you for the rest of his life? Seeing your hands raise up, he braced for impact of a harsh hit to the face with his eyes squeezing shut.

“Shhh, Razor...it’s okay.” You murmured softly as he felt two soft hands delicately cup his face. Your thumbs would run along his smooth skin, wiping away the tears that continued to flow down. Your own eyes would water, but by the grace of the stars, you were able to keep somewhat of a composure. He opened his eyes just barely, enough to see you again at least. Confused by the look he was giving you, you began to carefully let go and put your hands down before he grabbed your wrists in a swift motion. Back they went to his face, and back you went to wiping his tears and simply holding his head in the doorway.

“Y/-Y/N. I am s-sorry. I h-hurt you. Didn’t m-mean to, just n-no know what l-love was.” Razor managed to choke out through staggered breaths and hiccups. You kept up your affection, smiling gently as you let one hand go of his cheek.

“Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have run off so fast and had more patience with you. I’m sorry myself.`` To calm him down further, you hesitantly lifted a hand and ran it through his silver locks. Razor froze for a moment, but he relaxed further into your touch as he tilted his head more towards the hand, similar to that of what a cat would do. Silence ran its course as you two slowly began to heal from the wounds of that night.

“I love you.” He stated simply. It almost slipped your mind as you continued to play with his hair and cup his cheek, but you did a double take as you stared at him.

“You...you what?”

“I love you.” Razor repeated again, a bit louder this time in case you couldn’t hear him or something of the sort. You were about to ask him if he was joking, but his face held a serious look to them as it dawned on you. He really meant it. Granted, it was the most simple, basic way to confess feelings back towards a person, but you didn’t mind. It was what made him charming and attractive to you anyways.

“Why do you love me?” Razor paused to think about it, deep in thought as he did his best to string the words Lisa recently taught him together into something worth remembering.

“Simple, love. Love is a person, like how mate is a being. Therefore, you are love. Warm, safe, kind. Easy to be vulnerable and be...Razor. Guard down.” He explained to you with a sweet look on his features. Despite his limited vocabulary, you were deeply touched. He took the time to think and make sure his point was clearly mentioned. Razor grinned happily as he tilted his head at you. The air was light again, the heavy feeling replaced with his heart being ecstatic as he didn’t have to even say anything else. He could feel how happy you became from hearing what he said. It was good he could sense your happiness, because you were left speechless.

“Be my love? Please?” Razor asked quietly as you continued your silent streak. Since you were at a loss for words, and because you knew his love language was physical touch, you decided to show rather than tell. Your hand that was on his cheek trailed down his face and found its place wrapped around his hips. Then, with one swoop, you pulled him in closer to you and gently collided your lips with his.

It was if a supernova had exploded inside of his chest. The feeling was forgein, unfamiliar. Perhaps this technique of two lips put together was a human tradition he had yet to learn. He didn’t know what to do, so he mimicked you a bit. He opened his eyes slightly and then watched as you leaned in. He would then mirror the action for a few seconds before you pulled away. He knew that whatever you had just done to him was a way of saying yes. He just knew, and he loved it. The affection and having your full attention was all he could ever ask for. In fact, Razor found himself wanting more as he cutely pouted.

“More please?” You laughed, covering your mouth a bit as you nodded your head and cupped his cheeks again. You peppered your kisses all over his face: on his forehead, nose, temple, chin, the corners of his lips. Razor huffed adorably as he shook his head, pointing at his lips.

“You miss! I want here, love!” Razor whined, though, his complaining was stopped as you kissed his lips again. He melted in your hold, and there was no better feeling in the whole world. The boy would pull away this time, panting softly as he curiously touched his lips with his hands. It was amazing every time he received them, and he knew that he would never grow tired of them. Perhaps you could give him lessons, he thought. Then he would become an expert! Yes, that sounded like a plan. But that would come at a later date.

For now, he wanted to spend the night with you in his arms again.

------

some extra things i’ve thought of:

he would have totally dragged you into the guest bedroom where he was staying and given you a bunch of grass and flowers he had arranged.

(“give her a gift she will appreciate, something from nature!” was what lisa suggested.)

the roots were still there, along with heaps of dirt, but you found it endearing nonetheless as you laughed and accepted them.

he also got you chocolate covered strawberries! he had made them with klee (a mistake on lisa’s part, she will never let those two in the same room unsupervised again, especially not a kitchen.)

he would make it up to you by practicing how to formulate sentences under the bright sun in wolvendom.

you would reward him with kisses or headpats, so he worked extra hard in order to improve his linguistic skills.

because of being a bit traumatized from being seperated from you for so long, he gets a bit of separation anxiety when you leave him for too long. he’ll do missions or even go shopping with you just to ease himself down.

also hold his hand :(((

or any words of affirmation will do , he loves both when they come from you :))

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

grab it hard | th x fem!reader

credits gif by @tomhollandd

Summary: What could go wrong when Tom decide to post a video on his Instragram story? Pretty much everything. And now, one single thought runs into your head: taking advantage of it fully.

Warnings:  SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), reader having a dom moment, dirty talk/language, a lot of grabbing, muscles appreciation (or general muscle kink i guess)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: okay well- let’s say that tom’s IG story... brought the worst in us all and by that i mean we may have lost our sanity as our hormones took complete control of ourselves 😂 *cough* damn that brit boy and his attractive body 🥵🥵🥵 *cough* ANYWAY! my dear @thollandss​ got the idea yesterday and well, I said I would write it so here it is! enjoy, dear sinful beauts 😏🙊🔥

masterlist | tag list

The evening is going quite slowly compared to the rest of the day. Everyone in the house has been up to something, such as Tom and Harry going to the nearest park to play with Tessa, Harrison visiting his mum and sister Charlotte and Tuwaine out to buy some groceries.

And here you are now laying on the couch in the living room, watching whatever Netflix has suggested you and by yourself. The boys are in the house too, but doing their own things.

But out of nowhere, your ears catch a weird noise coming from the back of the house. At first, you don’t pay too much attention to it and go back to lazily stare at the tv. But then it starts again, going for a bit longer. Intrigued, you mute the tv and listen carefully to identify the origin of this sound. 

And a smirk makes its way to your face. As you quietly stand from the couch, you walk to the hallway that leads to the different bedrooms, and wait at the entrance of it. And listen. What you at first thought were “noises” seem to be groans and breathing, and all coming from Tom’s bedroom.

Someone’s horny, uh?

After only three minutes, silence comes back so you decide to go sit again on the couch, acting like nothing happened, and tease the hell out of your boyfriend once he will exist his bedroom. 

Back in the comfort of the couch, your phone dings as you see an Instagram’s notification on the screen. But when you open it, your jaw just drops while staring at the screen: your boyfriend half shirtless crouching against the wall, panting and groaning so loudly your brain makes a flip. 

What is that ten seconds videos, out of nowhere, and without any context to it?! Your face is now a deep red and you feel drops of sweat forming everywhere on your body, pressing your thighs together to get some relieve. So many obscene thoughts come through your mind and you can’t stop them at all, not after watching this much display of... everything your boyfriend has. 

Guess you are the horny one now.

* * * *

At some point Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine enter in the living room, chatting vividly as they make their way to the kitchen. Tom soon follows them as his friends laugh at him, the boy grumbling at his phone.

You are still on the couch and just listen, not making a single sound.

“Mate, you’re definitely sooooooo bad with Instagram!” Harrison laughs while opening the fridge.

“I bet ya he broke the entire app!” Tuwaine soon follows, thanking Harrison as he takes a bottle of beer.

“Oh come on, now” growls Tom, “This app is so weird, ‘not my fault it doesn’t upload normally!”

“Yeah right, as if” Harry mumbles, trying to not laugh at his older brother.

The conversation goes on for a bit when Tom finally notices you on the couch. So the boy takes this opportunity to walk towards you, leaving his friends making fun of him even more.

“Hi babe” Tom says behind you, bending slightly to kiss your temple, “Want something to drink? ‘m gonna cook soon if you wanna join.”

“I’m waiting a little bit” you simply reply, not daring to look at him.

Tom nods and leaves another kiss on your cheek before joining the boys again, all of them standing around the kitchen island while drinking and munching some snacks. Later they all disappear in their bedroom again, ready to play some “Warzone” or whatever that thing is.

You slowly turn your head towards the kitchen and notice Tom by himself, looking inside the fridge while drinking his beer. You recognise the shirt and shorts from the video, these clothes tight on every muscle of his body.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and causally walk and sit on one of the high chairs around the kitchen island. Your eyes gladly run along Tom’s back and lower, appreciating every single one as they tense and relax when your boyfriend moves. You feel hot again, eyes full of want and so much more. Your head leans on one hand as you start thinking, quick and fast, while Tom puts some vegetables on the counter to cook them.

Now determined, you stand again and slowly walk towards Tom, now standing behind him as he still doesn’t notice you. And out of nowhere, you shamelessly slap both hands on his ass, snatching a high squeal from him before firmly grabbing his butt cheeks and making him whimper.

“So pretty boy, enjoyed showing off and being all grunting for the internet?” you mewl in his ear, your chest pressing against his muscled back. 

Tom whimpers again, feeling your nails through the fabric of his shorts and pressing onto the skin. You run your lips on his nape, your teeth slightly brushing the thin skin there.

“This ass here is mine, you know that right? Like all your body is” you now grunt smoothly and biting into his lobe. You press against Tom’s frame more, your hips perfectly flat onto his ass while you keep massaging it.

Tom tightens his grip on the counter, his breathing getting louder as he feels his shorts being too tight against his cock.

“F-fuck (Y/N), wait-”

You interrupt him by sliding one hand to his front, first appreciating his abs throughout the shirt and slowly going lower to rest on his growing bulge. Now Tom doesn’t retain his groaning anymore and grabs your hand to press it harder against his cock.

“You horny pretty girl, you’d be the death of me” Toms breaths out, stretching his head behind to make contact with your face.

“I swear you better fuck me hard right now before I fucking lose it, Thomas.”

And that was what Tom needed. In no time the boy turns around to face you, now his broad body towering over yours and with eyes that could tear off your clothes off in a second. Almost savagely Tom smashes his lips on yours, the kiss being mainly tongue and teeth as his arms lift you up. You instantly wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, your fingers messing with his hair and scratching his scalp. Your clothed core brushes over his hard on, making you moan in his mouth but still grind more against it.

“Fuck me, Tom, now!” you whine almost desperately.

“I’m gonna destroy you, ‘gonna make ya scream my name so loud you’ll forget yours for weeks, baby girl” Tom groans, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it. 

With his ounce of composure left - to not take you right on top of the counter -, Tom starts walking towards his bedroom while he still appreciates your thighs with his strong hands. Both of you are just moaning messes by now, not even caring about walking past the other boys’ bedrooms.

Once in Tom’s bedroom, he simply slams it shut with his foot before also slamming you onto it. The kisses are getting more sloppier, saliva making its way in the corner of your mouth and just licking it back as you kiss again. Your hands cup Tom’s face, slightly pressing your nails onto his cheek to wrest beautiful whimpers out of him. 

But when you suddenly detach from him, Tom nearly moans and desperately moves his hips back and forth against yours. Getting too hot you hurry and take your hoodie off, throwing it somewhere in the room. And Tom can’t help but drink into this gorgeous view of you in a lace bra, all flushed and panting with need and desire.

Licking his lips, Tom almost runs to his bed and throws you on top of the mattress. Not losing another second, he undresses himself in a time record, his clothes soon joining yours on the floor but then, he catches your gaze and smirks.

“Enjoying the view, gorgeous?” he cheekily asks, perfectly knowing the answer already. 

As he stands in his boxer, you eye up his almost exposed body and how much you want to touch, kiss, lick and bite any inch of it. Tom never really liked the build he got for ‘Far From Home’, saying he looked way too buff for his heigh. And ironically, he had to go back in this shape for ‘Uncharted’ and you never felt this pleased.

“Can’t help it, your groaning are arousing as fuck. And...” you soothe, seductively biting your bottom lip. You run your hands over your body before sliding off your shorts slowly along your legs, leaving you in your underwear, on total display for his coffee eyes. “... I love it when you’re being vocal.’

“Fuckin’ shit, you’re gonna get it hard (Y/N)...”

True to his words, Tom growls as he joins you on the bed, his body in between your legs and his upper body caging you with his arms on both side your head. He aggressively goes back at kissing you, his hands petting over the plush curvature of your breast before he gets rid of the bra. He doesn’t lose time by soon taking off your lace panties, almost ripping them up with his strength. As excited as him, your thighs press more around his waist, bringing him closer against you while you try to push his boxer off.

Now both equally naked, Tom presses himself more onto you, chest to chest and his hard cock rubbing against your wet core, the feeling tearing a moan out of him. Having him at your mercy, your hands wander on his back muscles, tracing them with your fingers as if remembering them by heart is your final goal. You also worship his biceps, strong and hard as you squeeze them at times, his broad shoulders and beautiful neck, that you soon attack both with hickeys and nibbles.

Heavy breathing and groaning submerge the entire room,Tom’s one being way louder than yours. And him being at his limits, he grabs your hips firmly before sliding his girth deep between your tight folds. You both moan sharply into each other’s mouth, feeling his saliva pool at the back of your throat as he gives you a passionate and rough french kiss. Both of his hands squeeze at your warm hips before gripping your skin tightly as he starts a very deep and incredible pace.

Instantly you cling to his skin which is a combination of warm, smooth and sweaty. An intoxicatingly sweet aroma wafting into your nose that makes him all the more addicting. Even the thrust of his hips slapping against your own send desire filled tingles all over your body, the incredible sway of heat singeing off your skin.

“Oh m-my God, T-Tom!” you moan completely unhinged all of your praise directly into the rim of his ear, before biting and nibbling it. He growls from the incredibly grip your folds has on his cock, driving him insane with desire to fuck you as hard and deep as possible.

"O-oh fuck, you're completely soaking my cock already..." Tom rasps, hot and heavy lascivious words about how wet your pussy is making his cock. Telling you in naughty detail how it was making it easier for him to slide back and forth, and even the pulse of your folds against his manhood telling him just how close you are.

Both of your hands grip at his back tightly, digging your nails into the skin and leaving him a few feint scratches, trembling from the overwhelming build of pleasure as he presses against all the right pleasure zones inside your body. And as your nails slide along his back, you take advantage of it and slam the palm of your hands on his butt cheeks with all your might. 

This sudden move wrests the loudest whine from Tom’s lips, being breathless for at least two seconds because of the impact. You feel his cock throb between your walls, making you clench against him as you are overwhelmed by so many sensations.  

“C-Come on Tom, I w-wanna hear you more baby!” you gasp, pressing your nose against the skin of his neck when he starts hitting that overwhelming pleasure zone inside your body again.

And Tom can only comply to your demand, letting more erotic sounds leave his mouth. Both of his rough hands slide from your hips to the bottom of your ass, where he now copies your moves to push and pull your body to meet with his deep thrusts. 

From the way your body shakes and twitches you are close, making him pound into your core faster and deeper till he finally feels the warm sensation of your arousal coating his cock and dripping down his thighs. Tom moans against your lips while he continues to thrust sloshing your juices, until he abruptly pull away warming a bit of your stomach and inner thighs with his arousal.

Out of stamina, Tom let himself falls on top of you, out of breath but mostly swimming into a pure state of bliss. While watching you try to steady the heavy breathing and pound of your heart, his glazed eyes find yours before meeting your lips in a sloppy but lazy kiss.

“From now on, those type of videos are only for me. Not for the Internet, understand?” you mumble into the kiss, your hands still wandering on top of his ass, massaging it.

“Can’t promise you anything, darlin’...”

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[wallwriterstuff]

Her Reflection ||Marcus Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: Angst city central, descriptions of grief and depression

Words: 2741

Taglist: @royalvolturisblog @thelastemzy ​ @ferb13 ​ @raindancer2004 ​ @a-avaunce @broskibowser ​ @alecvolturiswifeforever ​ @college-is-coming @perfectcolortreestudent @volturidoll13 ​ @vamp-army

Summary:

A request for @like-rain-or-confetti

Marcus is resolute in his grief, so much so he has refused Corin’s gift many a time. When you show up, he can’t help but realise that perhaps his centuries of suffering were enough, that the contentment you offer is far more permanent than Corin’s. Maybe,  just maybe...Didyme sent you to him to give him one last chance at the happiness she loved to spread about.

You were a wonderful find.

Aro had been delighted to see you in his thoughts. He had been forced to leave the safety of Volterra for a business trip, the accounts of their business front needing attention every few decades to keep up the ruse of a modern, evolving company with changing leadership and new blood in its crew. The journey to Rome had been uneventful until they found the rogue little newborn tearing holes in a small residential area they had had to pass through. Demetri had quickly found the little fiend and as Aro took his face in his grasp, the images had raced through his mind, the regret he hadn’t taken your offer to help him strongly resonating through his body as it was mercilessly torn apart.

“Oh…Demetri…find this one.” He had murmured. Demetri did, and you had been amongst the guard now for eleven months. It had been a surprise to Marcus when you showed up with his brother as you didn’t seem to fit the Guard’s image – he wasn’t sure you knew how to be intimidating. It was clear you hadn’t come of your own volition, you were far too intelligent to be deceived into thinking Aro’s offer to join was real and clearly saw you actually had no choice at all, but still you came with a gracious smile, like you’d rather be nowhere else. After so many centuries of living and travelling as nomad you had confessed to Marcus a place to settle was nice, and despite so much time on your own you had a warm and welcoming nature that just drew the others to you.

It was all too easy to find your place when your place seemed to be everywhere and anywhere. As bitter and cautious as they were, even the twins seemed to warm to you rapidly after a few discussions. Marcus was mildly intrigued at first, but he didn’t really see enough of you to form any solid opinion on you. He only knew what he had heard, and what he had heard was that you were helpful and kind, quick to soothe pain and anger in others even if it festered in yourself. It sounded so awfully familiar to him that the raw ache in his chest, one that had never really gone away, throbbed so badly he was forced to turn his face to avoid your visage when you entered the room. Still, your voice was sugar sweet, melodic and soothing, it was a balm somehow to that pain. Months later he couldn’t say he was rid of it, he never would be rid of the pain he was sure, but it had dimmed somewhat.

His intrigue had turned to infatuation quickly when he finally let himself cast a glance at you. You were attractive to him, very pleasing to the eye though not in an exaggerated way. What made you beautiful was your personality, and it was what brought so many to your side in their efforts to win themselves a chance at capturing your affections. You turned down one after the next, the bonds you chose to make with the rest of the Guard purely founded on friendship and nothing more. Even when you grew those you coveted most it never came close to anything romantic and he was somewhat glad of that. He didn’t want to be the reason you never knew happiness, but he couldn’t help but wish that perhaps you might find it in him. There were other complications with that of course, because how could you ever give yourself to someone so broken? Was he even capable of love? How did you find happiness in someone devoid of it? He had felt it once before and this was so similar…

You had shown up more and more in the throne room, guarding them as they read. If you ever noticed his stare you didn’t say or make it obvious, but you did catch his eye once or twice and the smile you gave him warmed him inside. It had felt awful the first few times because how could he betray Didyme like that? How was it right, how was it fair, that he might get to feel any semblance of joy after his mate had gone unavenged? Was it even possible to fall in love again? Perhaps the centuries had worn away that original bond, but even that felt like a disservice to Didyme’s love, her kindness. It was enduring in ways that nothing else was. Then it hit him, you reminded him of her. The bond he could form with you was not so different to the one he had shared with her, you were too similar for it not to be.

Didyme’s gift had been happiness, the aura so inviting she had infected everyone around her with it, and while you didn’t share that gift you shared that personality. Marcus understood then, why the colour had returned to the halls as he walked them, why the sunshine seemed warmer on his skin as he passed by windows. It was you. Yet more complications came with that revelation because he was growing ever more restless (in his own lethargic way) and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. How did he tell you he had grown to love you for the very same reasons he had loved her? It was like looking at her reflection distorted in a mirror, a different face and different person but the same kind of heart. You had different passions and opinions and a slightly lethal edge to your physical prowess that he found gave him comfort, for it reminded him you were not her and you were able to defend yourself in ways she hadn’t been able to, but it also finally gave him the courage to admit that yes, he did love you, he did love you and he loved you because though you were like her you were not her.

Marcus didn’t want you to think about Didyme though when you spoke to him, he didn’t want you to see yourself as a replacement for a great, epic love. Unbeknownst to him, you had enquired about the sad king the moment you arrived. Marcus’s entire being radiated such grief and pain that it had been impossible not to ask about him, and given your easy to talk to nature (and the fear of what would happen to you if you unknowingly stuck your foot in your mouth) many a guard had happily told you the reasons for his depression.

“Didyme was beautiful.”

“Didyme was always so kind.”

“She made a whole room light up when she walked into it.”

“It was the greatest love story our kind have ever seen.”

Every statement had only made your heart hurt for the man more and more. His pain was so palpable, but his interest was also obvious. For a man so broken by the loss of such a momentous love it was surprising to say the least, but you also weren’t complaining. You had no desire to see anyone feel like he did, to be so trapped in darkness, and you had made it your mission to make the throne room feel a little lighter whenever you walked into it. Marcus was rather attractive in his own way, even with the corners of his mouth pulled down and his eyes so devoid of light. You were sure with a real smile he would look radiant as his eternal youth dictated he should. The day you got to see that first wisp of a smile was the day you became more determined to see it more often. Most people had gotten so used to overlooking Marcus unless he was called upon that you were able to share subtle looks and smiles from across the room with nobody really noticing – you smiled so often it wasn’t an unusual thing to see.

It was getting close to an important anniversary, important in Marcus’s mind anyway. You had been with the Guard for almost a year and people had started to notice the effects on the quiet King. Marcus had taken to wandering the halls more often than before, enjoying the library and the music room. The Gardens would be off-limits for a while yet, the tree planted in Didyme’s honour still blooming strong every year due to Aro’s careful upkeep and too much for his heart, his eyes. It was while admiring a painting in the hall that he came across you.

“Surely, after the length of your stay with us, you have seen this piece before?” his voice was soft, a slight rasp from the disuse and lack of satisfaction in his life that had lasted so long it was difficult to get rid of it. He felt like a schoolboy when you smiled at him, and for once he embraced the feeling rather than trying to shun it.

“I have, still it amazes me.” You confessed.

“There are larger pieces.” He mused.

“Size does not guarantee quality.” Your response was accompanied by a cheeky smile that made his own lips twitch upward, that ghost of a smile upon on his lips making you sigh contentedly. Twice in one day? It must have been vampire Christmas. For a while, you stood in silence and contemplated the painting before you. It was a simple piece of artwork, the Tuscan countryside interrupted by a quaint little cottage.

“What do you see?” Marcus asked you quietly. Head tilting, you hummed thoughtfully.

“I see peace.” You voice was decisive and he couldn’t help but frown. Peace? He had studied art a lot over the centuries and he had to admit, he had never once looked at this piece twice as something he could profoundly evaluate. It was a field, it was a cottage, it was…something that felt very literal in what it was.

“Peace?” he questioned.

You hummed. “The colours are so warm, and the hills just keep rolling. This landscape stretches forever, an endless path of golden light. There is always something to look forward to ahead but so much beauty around that cottage that you would be equally as happy to stay in that moment. To be able to see the beauty in what’s around us…that is the key to peace to me.”

Marcus could only stare at the painting, trying to see what you saw. He had seen nothing but grey for so long that the warm colours still felt faded. He couldn’t really remember what true peace felt like until he became brave enough to stand beside you. You radiated it. You were so content in life it was impossible not to feel the peace of mind you carried with you everywhere you went.

“What do you see?” you asked him. He didn’t dare stare into those wine-red eyes, sure his words would flee him. Marcus cleared his throat slightly, contemplating what to say. The truth was, he hadn’t seen anything in art ever since he began to study it. He had never seen metaphors or symbolism. Art had the potential to be beautiful and breath-taking but he had lost his ability to see it, until recently. There was…something, he realised, the more he stared at it.

“I see a cottage,” he said slowly, “But it is plain. Plain yet…surrounded by warmth. Isolated, and yet beautiful…it is…it feels as though, it could be home.” There was a deafening silence after he spoke, his words carrying more weight than he had first realised, weight you clearly felt. Marcus had lived in darkness, in agony and despair, in shadows, but with you there was light, joy, and beauty. He could live that way again if you allowed him the chance to. He could find that beautiful home in you. His hand was slow, reaching for yours. For a while the tip of his little finger touching the side of your hand was all he felt, not brave enough to go any further but so desperate to. When your fingers twitched, curling around his own to link your pinkies and hold his hand loosely, he knew instinctually that you wouldn’t let go. You would help him take that last step into the light. He didn’t need to be afraid.

“Master-“

“Marcus,” he amended softly, “I wish for you to call me Marcus.”

You nodded. “Marcus, then.”

A startled little laugh escaped him, because Didyme had once said the exact same thing to him. Unknowingly, you had replicated their very first exchange. Surprised red eyes stared up at him – you had never heard him laugh before. He seemed just as shocked since he wasn’t sure he was capable of such a sound anymore.

“You…you are so like her.” he sighed wistfully. In an ideal world she would be here, but…wasn’t this ideal? A second chance was unheard of amongst their kind and he was desperate to grasp it with both hands, but he feared holding too tight and shattering the hope he was unknowingly placing in you.

"Her? I...oh...Marcus..." you trailed off. Marcus finally met your eyes, the depth of sadness in his expression something you knew now you would never be able to fully alleviate, but you could meet him in the sea of his despair and keep him afloat, couldn’t you? This kind man deserved better.

“Forgive me. I had no wish to startle you, but you remind me so much of…of Didyme.” He whispered. Your expression softened, but there was no pity there, no sympathy, only gratitude. His honesty was applaudable and the courage it must have taken to say her name, that he felt safe enough to attempt such a feat with you of all people…you were grateful. Grateful to share this quiet moment with a man you had come to greatly admire, grateful to be held in such high esteem by him.

“That makes me truly happy to hear.” you confessed. Marcus frowned, looking confused.

“It does?” he questioned. You smiled, giving your interlocked fingers the slightest squeeze. Marcus slid his palm against your own, fully taking hold of your hand now he was more confident his affections were not about to be rejected.

“The day I arrived you looked so sad. I asked around, not wanting to say anything I shouldn’t and upset you further. The tales I heard, the descriptions I was given…it is an honour to think I might remind you of her in even the smallest of ways.” Your reassurance was like a warm blanket. Feeling cocooned and safe, he lifted your intertwined hands to brush the lightest of kisses against your knuckles. The tender gesture would have made you blush if you still had the ability.

“She was truly a miracle in my life, yet for all the ways you remind me of her, you seem to have just as many differences between you two,” he murmured, “I confess…I admire the reflection of her I see in you, but I love the little things that mark you as separate from her. It felt wrong to do so, yet I could not help it.” Pursing your lips, you tried to calm your racing thoughts as Marcus watched you for any hint of reaction. He had been open and honest, taken a brave step, and he needed you to meet him halfway lest he retreat back into the shadows. Living in hope was no foreign thing for you and you didn’t just meet him halfway, you anchored him in that hope so he might never retreat again.

“It would be a privilege to help you remember what it is like to be loved.” You assured him. Marcus gave you another small smile. Over time, those smiles grew and grew until they crinkled his eyes at the corners. Some days he laughed. On one rare occasion you had gotten him to dance with you in the music room to the record playing on the gramophone. Bit by bit the light returned to his eyes until he beamed so brightly when he saw you that it was obvious to everyone the Marcus they had once known had been partially revived. Grief was a constant companion but it no longer crippled him, and in the safety of your embrace Marcus felt so far from the shadows he was certain for the first time in centuries that he was finally free of them.