#bloody dew

[iamthecomet]

I keep trying to think of a good prompt for a Bloody Dew™ fic, but my brain literally goes feral and blank the second I think about it. No ideas. No thoughts. Just Bloody Dew™ on a loop over and over. 

[fortheharbingers]

characters: dewdrop/sodo, gn!reader

cw: blood ment, finger sucking, suggestive content – minors dni

a/n: the bloody guitar thing? he did it for the blood kink girlies he did it for me he is all my mind can think about right now have this short little thing<3 (also hi i still dk whether to call him dew or sodo LOL)

you can hear the sound of a guitar long before you make your way to the familiar chambers, the front of the door you've grown a bit too accustomed to and the firey ghoul residing there.

when you knock on the door firmly, once, and open it right after without even waiting for a reply however, you do not expect for the sound to triple– much more passionate ...and aggressive, enough so that you can feel your ears, your head and hands hurting.

and in the midst of the chaos, stands tall and proud Dew, as always, either unaware or uncaring of your arrival.

the sudden shift of his playing morphing into a mini impromtu guitar solo and you think 'yep, definitely the latter.' whenever he has the opportunity, he makes sure to show off, especially to you at all times– maybe top it off even, with a hand sliding down or fingers moving in ways not a single soul could deem 'innocent'.

walking past him, making sure to brush against his side, reeling in the fact that his playing stirs, even if just for a second; you make yourself comfortable on his bed and enjoy the show.

in his element even off stage, he holds your attention on him and him only, hands trailing down his body, his arms, the way he bounces his legs in sync with the melody, how he sways and moves and lovely, lovely fingers working their magic–

red.

your eyes spot it once and that's all they can see now, reminding you why you've decided to pay the ghoul this early visit in the first place.

jumping from his bed and rushing all the way to him, you catch the ghoul off guard with how sudden your mood shifts.

okay, maybe you should've been a little more careful and not haste because grabbing his hands and pulling them down to yourself, all the while on your knees certainly do not make up for the best of sceneries.

and he makes sure to remind a tiny partion of your mind that, with a low chuckle and quick joke about how you're so eager to kneel before him tonight.

sending a stern look his way gets him to shut up quickly, and so does the worried look on your face maybe.

though the worry is appreciated, ('aw, you like me that much, sweet thing?'), he brushes off all your comments to follow– about how he should be resting his hands, take it easy, let them recover and so on and on... and oh dear satan, doesn't that hurt? sting? demon or not you've got to have some pain receptors, no? well, what about making a mess, huh? surely it should be tedious to clean all up all that blood–

"you can always help with that, you know."

and he brings your train of thought, more like train of rambling off apparently, to a stop abruptly.

"well? no?" he speaks up when you stay silent for too long, "and here i thought you'd always be here to help– from what you've told me countless times before, at least." he teases you.

you'd probably hit him on the bicep or nudge his belly and trail off to find a first aid kit of sorts in regular circumstances.

but being on your knees in front of one fiery ghoul, his hands in yours, the scent of blood so sharp, heavy and delicious and his equally bloodied guitar as well as the crotch hidden behind it now– the circumstances are far from what your usual requires.

your grip on his hands loosen but gets more preceise. he can feel your fingertips ever so slowly moving against his skin now, tracing the bleeding areas, the lines of his palms, every small curve and vein– have you hands always been this cold?

and if so, why do they seem to burn now?..

raising your eyes from his hands to hold his gaze, you look up, not even needing to bat your eyelashes, parting your lips oh so slightly, donning that innocent look... oh no, the sight of you on your knees, with some of his blood already smeared on your hands, making you smell like him, is more enough to send him off.

"you're right, my apologies." your soft words fill what little space left between the two, ah, the pleasantries, always the pleasantries with you when you know you've got him hooked.

"i am a person of my word, after all. please," your words clouding him, your fingers going up and down his hands all the way to his wrists leaving him wanting. "allow me to help you."

he settles for a nod when words seem to fail him– your scent mixing with his not helping the situation at all.

he has had you in positions more obscene than this, surely, so what is it with now that has his senses overdriven with you, you and only you?

slight movements abandoned, you stroke a hand over the back of his hands with a hum, seeming to inspect the current damage his hands have endured. "we should get these cleaned up first, no?" you inquire, no caring for his replies.

turning his hands up and down, letting your nails slightly graze against the skin, dew watches your every move intently. "i doubt you have anything lying around to help with that." you talk more to yourself than anything.

"guess we've got no choice but to–" before he can ask 'but to what?' you bring a hand you were holding to your face and suck on a finger, he watches as two phalanges get lost behind your lips.

if your breath hot and fawning over his skin wasn't enough, your lips closing around the digits and rolling a tongue over certainly does the job.

dragging the fingers out, you turn the hand a little again, a frown making its way to your face. "what is it, pretty thing?" he finds himself asking.

"it's not working as efficiently as I've hoped," you say with a pout, now holding the hand with both your hands and dragging a tongue over the knuckles, slowing your movements when you taste the blood, eyes closed and your face carrying an expression he knows to be of 'content'.

at the contact of skin and saliva, your tongue and his bruises, open wounds, dew barely holds back a hiss.

opening your eyes, you look up to him again, a faint smile forming on your now blood stained lips.

"i'm afraid this will take longer than i anticipated."

bringing his other hand to cup your cheek and letting it fall slowly, his index linger a tad longer, dew tilts his head to the side.

"it's a good thing the night is young."

[wrathofrats]

Dawg imagine being a new ghost fan like “oh cool I like this kinda anti church Satan band, I wonder if they have any kind of fandom?” And then you see us posting about morally dubious mind control and debating if you can put a dick in gills

[crooked-hourglass]

Soooo how would we be feeling about more bloody ghouls? I'm thinking Dew needs some friends and I've got ideas for Rain and Phantom ✨️

[soapyblubbles]

*.•° 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 °•.*

pairings: poly!marauders x nymph!reader

summary: james introduces you to his two friends

warnings: implied “sharing.” do with that what you will.

a/n: who was gonna tell me that i actually have to check my inbox to know if i have asks 🙊 anyways this is set before pieces of me !! this is dedicated to the anon who asked me about nymph!reader back in august 😭

You tug roughly on James’ arm, mindlessly cooing as you pull him deeper into the cave.

He doesn’t understand anything that you’re saying, but still he nods along enthusiastically, intently focused on each syllable that leaves your mouth. You had been surprised when he showed up earlier than usual, especially when you realized he had brought others along with him.

The two trail behind uncertainly, their rising alarm resting sour on your tongue.

The long-haired one made you especially wary.

He doesn’t show any outward signs of being nervous but you sense emotions better than most. His wild energy puts you on edge. His aura is bitter, like the unripe fruit that dangles from the trees that tower over you when you journey into the forest. There’s also a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the nectar that the bees sometimes bring you.

If the long-haired one is the fruit then the tall one is the branches, balancing out his companions' wild nature with his never ending patience. That’s not to say he doesn’t have any chaos of his own. You can feel it writhing underneath his skin, especially when he shifts around every now and again, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Though you think that it might be because of how he’s forced to hunch over every now and again, the tips of his hair brushing against the jagged ceiling whenever the floor of the cave gets too uneven.

The taste of honey dew makes your mouth water, along with a richness similar to the dark colored treats James brings you every once in a while.

“Are we almost there?” James’ hushes them and a frown forms on both their faces. You peer at them with interest.

“James.” The tall one scolds, his throat raspy with sleep. “Don’t ignore us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Merlin, all you have to do is wait a few more bloody minutes.”

“Well excuse me if I decide to ask a couple questions when you drag me in the middle of the forbidden forest at this hour.” The tall one hisses back, looking far more lively than he had moments before.

You tug on James’ sleeve, straightening up as his attention instantly falls back to you. “Yes, love?”

You gesture to the cave, turning back to stick your tongue out at the two behind you. Although they're infinitely confused, there’s no doubting the fact that you’ve piqued their interest.

“Bloody brat.” The two mutter in unison.

James ignores them, trying his best to listen to your incomprehensible, but excited mutterings.

“Found the poor thing bathing in a creek when I was roaming around as Prongs.” James sighs, clutching his wand tightly as he walks the familiar path.

They stop just as you reach the entrance to what looks like a house, gazing around in awe as the glass bottles and mason jars start to come to life, fireflies moving around in them restlessly. The unnatural glow coming from the small pond by the back alcove couldn’t be from anything but magic. You lead them further into the room, pointing to the small collection of rocks and other random items, sorted in a chaotic manner.

“Wow.” The shorter one whispers breathlessly.

You push James on your makeshift bed, made up of moss and hay. You sidle up to his side with a contented hum. “Brought her some stuff when I could. But for now I figured I’d share her with m’best mates.”

They both pause at that.

“What?”

“Trust me, the poor thing can barely even understand us.” He assures his tall friend.

Seeing how unconvinced they still were, he sighs and turns to you. You perk up at his attention, letting the small stones you were messing with fall to the floor as you give him a bright smile.

“You’re just a dumb little nymph aren’t you?” He coos down at you. You nod along eagerly, eyes shining with adoration as he mocks you.

“Such a dumb girl, who’s my dumb girl, huh?” His voice was not unlike the voice one would use when speaking to a puppy and you just smiled along, practically bouncing in place at his upbeat tone. You latch onto his arm, fiddling with the fabric on his jacket.

James sighs at your actions, pulling you closer into him, your teeth making a soft ‘click’ every time you bite down on the material.

Sirius gives Remus a heavy look, the long haired boy looking doubtful when Remus walks over, hunching over you. His slender finger trails up and down your calf. “Such a pretty girl.”

You must’ve understood what he said because no sooner did those words leave his mouth, did your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him forward harshly.

With a speed that surprised even him, his arms shot out to either side of your head, letting out a loud groan as a few small rocks dug into his palms, just barely managing to stop himself from crushing you.

You let out a series of loud clicking and chirping noises, unaware of how improper your actions were. He lets out a huff, rising to his knees as you continue to babble nonsensically. “You don’t do that. You understand? Tha’s not nice and someone could’a gotten hurt.” His tone is firm and you squirm in place, peering up at him with wide eyes.

James had never spoken that way to you before.

Bashfully, you turn away from him, hiding your face in the crook of James’ neck. “Hey mate, don’t be rude to my best girl. Just cause I’m sharing ‘er doesn’t mean you need to be a prick to the poor thing.” He grumbles, petting your head softly.

Remus just sighs, shaking his head at you two before calling out, “Are y’just gonna stand there all evenin’?”

Sirius, who was still wandering around the cave, shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry mate, s’just cool in here.” He moves to sit down, but freezes when your head snaps to him. You bare your teeth, hissing with furrowed brows as you eye the way he’s just a little too close to James.

James lets out a booming laugh as Sirius’ features morph into a scowl.

Remus slaps James’ arm. “Be nice.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 

Your own family had never been so generous. 

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 

Relentlessly. 

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion. 

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 

You’d be found out in no time. 

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 

Can and not do. 

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?” 

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 

There was no running from this. 

“Okay,” you whisper.

TAGS:

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[enchanting-jewel]

What's really in that witch's cauldron?

Folk names for herbs

Ass' Ear- Comfrey

Bat's Wing- Holly Leaves

Beard Of Monk- Chicory

Bear's Foot- Lady's Mantle

Bird's Eye- Germander or Speedwell

Blind Eyes- Poppy

Blood From a Head- Lupine

Blood Of Ares- Purslane

Blood Of Hestia- Chamomile

Bloody Fingers- Foxglove

Calf's Snout- Snapdragon

Cat's Foot- Ground Ivy

Crow's Foot- Wood Anemone

Devil's Ear- Jack In The Pulpit

Devil's Plaything- Yarrow

Dew Of the Sea- Rosemary

Dog's Mouth- Snapdragon

Dragon's Teeth- Vervain

Elf Leaf- Lavender

Englishman's Foot- Common Plantain

Fairy Eggs- Nutmeg

Flower Of Death- Vinca

Goose Tongue- Lemon Balm

Graveyard Dust- Mullein

Hawk's Heart- Wormwood

Juno's Tears- Vervain

Jupiter's Beard- Sempervivums

Lion's Foot- Lady's Mantle

Little Faces- Viola

Man's Bile- Turnip Sap

Mortification Root- Rose of Sharyn

Nose Of Turtle- Turtlehead, Chelone

Nosebleed- Yarrow

Our Lady's Tears- Lily Of The Valley

Old Man's Flannel- Mullein

Ram's Head- Valerian

Scale Of Dragon- Tarragon

Semen Of Ares- White Clover

Semen Of Hermes- Dill

Serpent's Tongue- Dog's Tooth Violet

Sparrow's Tongue- Knotweed

Tree Of Doom- Elder

Unicorn Root- Boneset

Weasel Snout- Yellow Archangel

Wool Of Bat- Moss

Body Parts as Plants:

Eye- Blossom or Seed

Heart- Bud or Seed

Beak, Bill or Nose- Seed, Bud or Bloom

Tongue or Teeth- Petal or Leaf

Head- Blossom

Tail- Stem

Hair- Dried Herbs or Stringy Parts Of Herbs

Privates, Genitals Or Semen- Seeds Or Sap

Blood- Sap

Guts- Roots or Stalk

Paw, Foot, Leg, Wing or Toe- Leaves

Animals as Plants:

Toad- Sage

Cat- Catmint

Dog- Grasses, Specifically Couchgrass

Frog- Cinquefoil

Eagle- Wild Garlic

Blue Jay- Laurel

Hawk- Hawkweed

Lamb-Wild Lettuce

Nightengale- Hops

Rat- Valerian

Weasel- Rue

Woodpecker- Peony

I borrowed this from:

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Not A Hero Just A Good Man

Simon Riley x Reader (probably ooc) Simon's home from deployment and he needs his spouse Fluff and very slight hurt/comfort Should be gn!reader, if I messed up anywhere please tell me There is mentions of a girly bodywash that is owned by the reader but... anyone can own those

"I need you to understand that I'm not the nice one out there, luv. I'm not the good cop. I'm not the hero."

You're sitting next to Simon on your shared bed, he's still in his gear, but his mask is in his hands and he's absent mindedly grabbing and rubbing at it.

"Luv, if you knew only half the stuff I've done. The absolute horrendous things I've done to people. And I'd do them again. And I will do them again."

He's growing distressed. His brows are drawn together and his rubbing over the skull part becomes harsh. He'll hurt himself at this rate.

So you get up and kneel down before him, force yourself into his view. Your hands oh so gently take the mask from his and the care with which you put it onto his nightstand chokes Simon up.

You slip your hands into his. He's still wearing his gloves, there's blood all over them.

As he looks down and sees your delicate, perfect hands in his blodied hold, the tears start gathering. He's trying to pull his hands away but you grip him harder. His glistening eyes find yours.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I didn't marry someone who has a nice job or lives in a nice reality."

He's looking to the side trying to avoid your gaze. His hands are still limp in yours, refusing to hold onto you when there's still the gore of his actions clinging to his clothes and his skin.

You're gently easing the gloves off his hands and let them fall to the floor. His knuckles are bloody and split, even under the protective layer.

He swears he lets loose a sob when you bend down to press two soft kisses to the palms of his hands. He's ripping his hands away from you, cradling them to his chest.

"No.", your harsh tone makes his gaze snap back to yours again and when you grab his hands again he reluctantly lets you have them.

"Don't you dare look away from me, Simon Riley." You can see how hard he has to fight to obey your words. You can see his panting breaths get harsher and your grip is so soft, that if he truly didn't want to have you touching him, he could pull away. As if you could ever hold him against his will.

You take one of his hands and press it against your chest, deliberately drawing in deep and steady breaths and waiting until he is following your example.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I married a good man."

You can audibly hear him gulp.

"I married a good man, who is willing to do the ugly work. I married a good man, who gets his hands dirty so the world is just a tiny bit cleaner."

His entire focus is on you as he hangs on to every word you say.

"I married a good man, who does horrible things. But those things need to be done. I'd rather have a good man, like my husband, do them, than someone who doesn't care at all. Someone who finds joy in them. I married a good man. And when you come home, blodied and bruised I will still love you. And when you come home after you did the worst imaginable things, things I don't even know possible, I'll still love you. And when you do horrendous things again, I will still love you. I love you."

He's looking at you and the tears catch in his eyelashes like soft morning dew on the most intricate petals. You have never seen a man more beautiful than your Simon. You have never seen anything more beautiful than the man, he allows you to see through the cracks in his walls.

"Love...", he breathes. And it's reverent, a prayer. As if you are the deity that holds his absolution. As if your words alone can save him from the damnation he suffers.

His hands slowly reach up, cup your cheeks. He's about to pull back when he sees the blood on his hands next to your unblemished face but your hands cover his and you nuzzle into the hold of a killer.

His body bows foreward, into your warmth and his chapped lips fit against yours. As soon as your lips touch he whimpers and your hands find their way to his cheek and neck, holding him close.

You only pull back enough to touch your forehead to his, both of you keeping your eyes closed.

"My Simon.", you whisper into his skin and his arms wrap around you as he lets his head fall to your shoulder, buries his face in your neck and starts shaking.

You grab onto him just as tightly. It's uncomfortable the way you're on your knees half risen to meet him in the middle but you don't care when you start humming and gently swaying.

You don't know if he's crying, probably not, but he's still shaking so you tighten your hold and whisper your love for him into the quiet of your bedroom.

When his breaths start to get quick and shallow again you force him back, cup his face and demand "Simon, look at me."

He does, his gaze is unfocused, and he's panting way too fast, but he's trying to focus on you. He's not too far gone so you check in first "Touch?" He nods in a jerky movement.

Your hands go to his again and you hold both of them to your chest with one, the other one finds his neck and puts gentle pressure there.

"Match my breaths, darling.", you instruct. He obeys.

Today is a good day, as you are able to bring him back from the brink for a second time. Slowly his eyes blink back into awareness and your gentle smile cracks open his ribcage and sets his bleeding heart free.

"There he is. Hi."

"Hi, luv." His voice is horribly rough a splintering sound like old rotten wood breaking apart but he doesn't miss the way your hand on his neck squeezes affectionately.

"Let me give you a shower?" He nods, too tired afer two almost panic attacks to answer. You stand up and offer him a hand which he takes and allows you to pretend to pull him up.

You don't let go of his hand as you pull him into the bathroom, maneuvering him so he can lean back against the sink. You know that he's tired, but you also know that the last thing he needs to see right now is himself, still covered in blood, and you taking care of that mess for him. So you don't give him the opportunity to gaze at the reflection of what's going on in the mirror over the sink.

Once you've eased every piece of armor and clothing off of him, you usher him into the shower, under the warm spray of water before following him.

Once your both under the water, your wrap your arms around him and just hold him. When he sighs you can feel the way his lungs fill up to their limit.

It's a long time before you take the bottle of shampoo into your hands and put some of it in your hands.

"Bend down for me?", you murmur.

Simon gets on his knees before you instead, buries his face in your tummy and relaxes as your hands begin to massage the shampoo into his scalp.

You're careful while rinsing it out and he presses a soft kiss to your tummy before standing up. A thank you and a offering at the altar of the only deity he'll ever worship. Then he's standing again, his hands on your hips, while you begin to lather his body in your own body wash.

You can feel him relax and it doesn't take long before he gives you the gift of his voice, even if it is so say: "Damnit darlin', making me smell like a princess?"

He's grumbling affectionately and you grin. There he is. It's always a good sign when he starts being a grump about stuff he secretly loves. It's always a good sign when he starts with his horrible dry humour.

"No one says that big dangerous men can't be princesses.", you quip back and see the way the corner of his mouth lifts up.

"I'm too manly to smell like...", he squints at the bottle. "Rainbow sunshine." He snorts. "Sounds like something that would come out of a unicorn's ass."

You laugh and slap his chest. "You are the worst, Si. Guess you gotta suck it up and smell like unicorn ass."

"The shit I go through for you.", he grouses and you can hear the grin in his voice.

When you've rinsed him off again he puts his arms around you again and pulls you into him, resting his head on yours.

"Thank you, luv."

"Always, baby."

...

"Now get your unicorn ass out of this shower so I can dry you off and cuddle with you."

He laughs roughly and slaps your backside. "The only one with a magical ass here, is you, luv."

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Synapses Between the Stars

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 4.0K ya'll I cannot apologize enough for how long it's been! I won't bore you with the mess of my life but just know i am continuing this story with love and excitement. thank you to everyone who is still reading and for being patient with me!! love ya ❤️

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm@magnificantmermaid@mk15x@abbybarnesstuff@lavenderhue@dirtytomatoedwrites @gothamlovr91 @skel-skell @hiddencurator @luvmatchamilktea

@palmwinemami @e-spexially

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

The threat lingers in the air like a bad odor. Your face scrunches up with more tears as you reluctantly nod. A child-like fear encapsulates over you, fingers slowly untwisting from his pants. Rafe’s half hard as you find comfort in his pacifying touches, his hands massaging down your scalp to the nape of your neck.

As much as he’d love to stay in this moment, the tackiness on his dick is uncomfortable so Rafe tucks it in with a zip. He urges you up, but you give a small wince. Rafe hums questioningly, following your eyes down to the trickle of blood at your right knee.

“Oh, Angel. You’ve hurt yourself.”

Directing you down in a chair, he parallels your descent into taking a knee before you. Your palms wipe clumsily at your soaked cheeks, skin irritated from the salt and constant rubbing.

A small shard of glass pokes from the hard base of your knee, embedded from the hardwood floors. Dark red borders the clear glass, tinting it an ombre of maroon as it spreads itself. Running a hand up the curve of your calf, his fingers knead at the fat and muscle there. With his other hand, he pinches his thumb and index together to pull the fingernail-sized glass out. It plinks on the table.

Rafe pouts up at you, jutting out his lower lip before kissing your shin right at the end of the blood trail where it fattens like a dew drop. The taste of your essence seeps through his lips and nourishes his soul. Flattening his tongue, he slides it up to the wound and leaves an imprinted bloody shape of his mouth there. He thinks of clowns, the ocean, anything to will his dick to stay down, the metallic aftertaste of you marinating all over his tastebuds.

You don’t flinch as Rafe cups your face, hiding it instead in the palm of his hand as you keep crying. You’ve never cried this long before and Rafe wonders if the surge of fluctuating hormones is to blame. Stroking the tears away with his thumbs, you two stay like that for a long moment. Rafe waits patiently until you're fully nestling into his touch, allowing him to lean in closer and smell the shampoo of your hair as it tickles his nose.

Though he does love your crying, the best part of it is the aftermath. Where your mind is drained from the climax of emotion, a shaky little thing made to be wrapped up and taken care of.

He coos your name with gentleness, with forgiveness. Kissing along your face to clean up your tears, your puffy lips are malleable against his. Pulling back with a small smile, he checks over your splotchy face. Squishing your cheeks together to purse your lips, he kisses you again. It's a mockery of a true kiss. Using your docile state to his benefit.

Carefully, Rafe stands up to lead you toward your bedroom. With one step, there’s a dull stab at the sole of his foot. Lifting his foot up and to the side, the yellow kitchen light reflects off the culprit. More glass. Flicking it off, he detours you to the couch instead, bundles you back up in blankets, and takes a step away. A pull to his shirt stops him.

You look like you hate yourself for asking in a hoarse voice, “Where’re you going?”

His chest swells. Rafe thumbs at the apple of your cheek. “Goin’ to clean up, baby. Relax now, alright?”

With an approving nod, Rafe starts to scan the floor. Following it like breadcrumbs in an exploding trail of broken glass, his gaze is led to the opposite wall stained dark with rivets collecting down to the baseboard. The water has mostly contained itself to the site of the explosion, glass escaping all the way into the dining room and under the table for refuge.

His rose-tinted hue mutes into stark colors of remembrance.

Of when he was little but always a big brother. Before Rose and when Wheezie was a baby, a time when it was only Ward. Hiding a smaller blonde before himself.

It’s like switching on LED lights, his serenity dissipates into a crumbling headache. Memories attempt to suppress him into the black hole he calls home for days on end, where the craving of something stronger blankets him. Rafe blinks rapidly and then searches for a dustpan. Sweeping is second nature to him, like an instinct he’s forgotten about because now a maid does it.

The twinkling of broken glass is a familiar sound and as all the pieces come back together so does a fear that there’ll be a figure imposing behind him. One that is stronger and angry about the mess. Jerking his head to the side, Rafe finds relief because there is no shadow looming over him, no deep bark of a voice to cower from.

It’s the back of your head. You, right where he left you. Waiting for him.  

He thinks you’ve fallen asleep from how quiet it’s been but when he rounds the corner of the couch you peek up from beneath the blanket. He can’t tell if the tug at his heart is from affection or shame. Propping your legs over his lap, he leans your head against his chest as his arms wrap around you.

It’s strange and silent. Your face is dry now, sniffling every so often as you tiredly cuddle him. Seeking comfort from the emotional edging he’s provoked today. Rafe rubs your arm and leg with periodic squeezing. Nose borrowing into your hair he pecks kisses there, a warm buzz tickles the tip of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe’s voice cracks. You feel breakable in his arms. “sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The front door closing wakes Rafe up in limbo. There’s a kink in his neck, warm with the weight of you on him. Multiple footsteps sound, coming closer until there’s a halt and hushing.

“Aw, look at them.” Is whispered before there’s a shuttering click.

“Andi, shut up, you’ll wake them.”

As the presence of your roommates’ fade and so does his consciousness, Rafe knows he’ll do anything to keep you like this.

🌙

The first day of spring break is unlike any other Rafe has ever experienced.

Last year this time, he was in his family’s house in the Bahamas with endless coke and flowing booze, and dozens of college kids roamed free in the sprawling mansion. Now, he’s with Ward going over the plans of construction and the partners included.

And oh, isn’t it a delicious surprise to be standing in front of your father. Shaking his hand with a professional smile. The same one he used a day before to shake his fingers into your soaking cunt, making you squirt for the first time. It was the best parting gift you could’ve given him.

Did you know your father would be here?

“Rafe…” Your father’s eyes shine with slight recognition. “You have class with my daughter, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I do. She’s a very smart girl.”

Rafe knows it’s not the right time to indulge how well he knows you, so he lets the topic slip past. He scrutinizes your father in the initial meeting between the three of them. He speaks highly of his work, the people he’s worked with, and his family. A soft confidence that doesn’t command respect but receives it naturally. Ward boasts about the many properties he owns on the island, how he’s benefited the community and the people that look up to him, calls Rafe his ‘right-hand man’. It annoyingly pleases Rafe, even if this is the first major project Ward’s let him in on.

Presenting himself with respect to your dad is a top priority. Uses his good ol’ southern charm.  Shows obedience while inserting his ideas in meetings, makes nauseating small talk during lunches. Throughout the week, Rafe homes in on impressing your father while his own falls into the background. Once prayed-for compliments from Ward are forgotten words now that your father laughs at his jokes, slaps his shoulder in comradery. After too many, sirs and Mr.’s your dad insists that Rafe call him by his college old nickname, Cruiser.

He almost can’t believe how good the week goes. Rafe stays (mostly) sober. Ward doesn’t belittle him. Your father announces that he’ll be staying in the OBX for the summer.

That little tidbit doesn’t reveal itself until the end when Ward schedules a tee time to celebrate the success of a good partnership.

Weak rays of the morning sun cast long shadows. The humidity gathering warns of warmer weather later, giving the perfect excuse to hydrate with beer. It’s all play and no business. Your father is a chatty man as Rafe lines up with his club to the ball.

They’re on the 8th hole and Rafe has a good buzz, enjoying the game. The times he’s played with his dad in the past had been riddled with competitiveness, dampening the mood each time. Your dad absorbs that attention as he’s been parring better than Ward. It's entertaining to watch Ward struggle to trap down that ugly streak. Rafe could care less about scores and the like, he appreciates that Cruiser personally invited him to play with them.

“…Lauren’ll be off somewhere doing whatever. Wife’s excited to come back,” Cruiser takes a pull of beer and says your name, “She’s so busy with school I haven’t had much chance to ask her.”

Rafe’s ears twitch. Widening his feet again, he arcs the club up slow…

“But I think she’ll enjoy the summer here.”

The twitch in his shoulders is to blame for the bad shot, hitting the ball too high and not far enough.

Rafe mutters a swear into his shoulder, wiping his chin there. He steps away with a casual shrug, switching with Ward to stand next to your dad.

“So, uh…ya’ll be here for the whole summer or until the projects finished?”

“I like to stick around until the project's done.” Rafe becomes conscious of the fact he’s staring at him when Cruiser side-eyes Rafe. “Not too sure what her plans are after graduation, but it’ll be nice to have her here for a bit.”

Ward butts in. “And the Mrs. okay with it? What about her job?”

“Oh, Cotton doesn’t work.” Cruiser only refers to his wife as Cotton. And here Rafe thought his family had weird names. “We’ve been doing this sorta thing for about ten years now. She likes it. Seeing the country with my girls is my favorite time of the year.”

“Hm.” Ward’s eyes gleam with longing. “Wish my daughters took more interest in hanging out with me.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer to hide it. It’s a practiced move he’s learned to perfect over the years. He can’t prod into the subject of you now with Ward sugaring it up into parenthood.

“How’d ya’ll meet?” Rafe asks with strained politeness.

“In undergrad through mutual friends. She was the sweetest thing to everyone but wouldn’t give me the time of day.” Cruiser laughs heartily.

“Playin’ hard to get,” Ward jabs in.

Your dad shakes his head, laughter tailing off into a scoff. Rafe doesn’t think Ward notices the dismissal, too busy dicking around with practice swings. “Just had to prove myself to her…”

Ward gets a nice shot in, staying in his pose as he watches the ball sail and then land in a sand pit. Rafe would’ve laughed if his interest wasn’t already pinned somewhere else.

“How’d you do that?” Rafe asks as he adjusts his cap.

Ward cocks his head in Rafe’s direction with an inquisitive eye as he steps away from the tee. Cruiser goes to his golf bag, skimming around the many clubs. He carries himself with loose movements and talks as he decides on which club to use.

“I could tell you all sorts of things, son.” Sliding one out, he gives it a short toss-up in the air then catches it. “Most important of them: compromise.”

“Compromise?”

Is he sure he wants to get dating advice from your father?

“All there’s to it. That simple.” He confirms, correcting the white ball to stay on the tee. With ease he lines himself up, stance relaxed with loose hands. “I’m from the east coast, wife’s from the middle of the Midwest. So, after graduation, we stayed in California. That’s compromise.”

He takes a few faux swings, whistling a tune like Rafe isn’t hanging off his every word. Cruiser sways his hips playfully as he says, “You shift from one side to the other until…”

The strike of the ball is unexpected, soaring into an arc surpassing Wards. The ball bounces twice on the green, yards away from the hole.  

“Balance.”

🌙

You’re wearing a skirt today. It makes Rafe's jaw tick.

Once the weather started warming with the southern sun, you had worn a skirt to class. A modest thing just above your knees and plain, paired with a light sweater. How did you not expect Rafe to concentrate solely on it throughout class? To walk his fingers on your bare thigh, hook his knuckles to tug at the fabric. It wasn’t his fault that it fits you so perfectly with a flouncy hem and fitted waist. Every guy loved those kinds of skirts on girls, coy and causally hot. How could he resist such a sight?

But ever since that one instance, you hadn’t worn it since, not until now. Not until he skipped class because he arrived home late from Kildare and texted you that he wouldn’t be there to walk you to and from class.

He’s glad he changed his mind.

Catching a glimpse of you unguarded is rare nowadays. Sometimes, Rafe just likes to look. Look at the way your hair slips down, look at how your face wrinkles with your animated expressions. You make it hard to just look when you know he is. You morph into a rabbit, frozen with the instincts that a predator is watching. Still but poised to run.

Now, your shoulders are down with a smile as you exit the lecture hall with two girls. The skirt bounces with each step, a lively flap against your thighs.

“Hi, baby.”

The soft greeting has you drawn to a stop as Rafe slinks into your path, hidden by the stone pillar that leads into a small courtyard between halls. You’re flanked by the girls, overlapping chatter halting into one note.

“…Hi.”

It’s halfhearted but your voice is so much sweeter in person than over the phone. He recognizes the girls from the lecture. It seems like you’ve made friends in his absence. The three of you do that secret language of girl eye contact, one nudging you with a smile before they’re both bidding goodbyes, walking off without you.

Rafe likes you doe-eyed and alone. Lips chapped from the morning wind. You stand a foot away like you’ve been melded into the concrete.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, o’course. I like your skirt.”

Rafe reaches out, tugging on the end of your skirt towards him with a melted smirk. Your resistance raises the hem, more skin bared as the skirt becomes more horizontal than vertical. The arousal in him amplifies as he pulls and pulls, your feet tripping twice as you’re forced into his space. He ends your cute protests with a kiss, lips warm against yours. The return of pressure from your lips thrills him.

“How was your spring break?” The ‘without me’ is swallowed down.  

“You should know…you only called me every day.” Tilting your head, your face is flat except for the tiny pull at the corner of your mouth.

Rafe kisses it, humming into your skin hoping to transfer the static that’s in his veins back to you. He pats small kisses over to your lips while one hand cups the side of your neck as the other scoops under the strap of your backpack, sliding it down your shoulder. Taking your backpack after class had become a habit born from preventing you from escaping. He slangs it on his shoulder to then intertwine his hands with yours. The ability to lock you in is a bonus.

“Is that so bad?”

“Y–”

“Aren’t you goin’ to ask ‘bout mine?”

You sigh. “How was your break, Rafe?”

“Oh, thank you for asking Angel. It was great. Saw old friends, surfed a bit.” Rafe watches your eyes glaze over to the left. “Met your dad.”

Your hand spasms in his. Your eyes snap back into place. It isn’t surprise or shock or unknown information you’ve been granted to coloring your face. It’s the dawning light of a premonition come true.

“You knew.”

Rafe’s voice is tight. The unexpected indigitation that flames his chest hurts more than burns. He anticipated this. Why he didn’t tell you over the phone about it, waited until he was face to face. You weren’t the best liar with his eyes pinned on you. His fingers mirror yours with strength until a whimper’s trapped behind your lips.  

“Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “I knew.”

“Any reason you didn’t tell me?”

“Many.”

“Cut the shit,” Rafe says your name with severity.

You puff out with annoyance that’s mounting to match his. Students pass by, rounding around the blockade you form on the sidewalk. One does a double take at Rafe’s curse. Grunting, he turns and marches into the empty courtyard towing you behind.

He should drop it. Wait until after he fucks you to bring it up.

But you knew.

A nag he should ignore eats at him until there’s only anger and hurtful pride. You’re still looking for a way out.

Snatching your hand away, you growl back at him with shoulders rising to your ears. Arms crossed at your chest and feet shuffle in place. Rafe ranks nails against his scalp, eyes ping-ponging along your face.

“This why you were a brat before I left?”

After the argument and the weeks leading up to spring break, you had continued questioning about Ward and his work. An anxious energy you radiated as it came closer. Rafe pegged you excited about him leaving.

The flick of your head to the side is the only verification he needs. You were expectant of their reunion.

“You didn’t…” You bite your lip. “Say anything to him, right?”

“No, I didn’t. Cause you’re gonna tell him.”

Your eyes widen until your lashes are practically in your eyebrows. Throwing your arms out to the side with closed fists, you lean with a shout. “Like the fuck I am.”

Rafe pitches your backpack behind him. Tension knots at the base of his neck, dragging a hand to roughly rub at it.

He keeps his voice flat. “When we go to Kildare, you can tell him yourself.”

“Oh-ho,” Your laughter is short and biting. “I am not going back there.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And you're so sure of this? How?” Your hip juts to the side, a hand propping on there to anchor yourself.

“Cause of that cute lil’ family tradition you got there.”

Your hand flips around, waving his sentence away. “I am a grown-ass person, Rafe. I can do whatever I want! And I want – I’m going back to California.”

You shake your head, the heel of your hand presses at your brow, blocking your vision. Rafe moves. Feet quiet on the concrete as he creeps closer.

“No, ya ain’t.” He seethes.

“I’m going back home after graduation! I’m never setting a foot back in this goddamn state!” You thrust a finger at him, inches from his chest. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Yes, the fuck you are. Or im gonna have to show everyone those pictures –”

The squeal abrupts from you, high pitched and echoing. “I don’t care! I don’t care anymore! Show whoever you want. I’ll be far away from you anyways.”

Rafe grits his teeth, molars threatening to grind into dust. Tilting his head up and shoulders down, he fights for eye contact as he works his jaw.

“And I don’t care what I have to do to fucking keep you.”

“I’m not some stray you can scoop up and lock in a cage.” Eyes narrowed and lip curled up, you push at his shoulder.

“Hm, a cage. That’s a good idea, baby.”

Lips thin in a tight line, he taps your check twice. He can’t help the dark amusement that tickles him when you jump in your skin, arms lashing out awkwardly.  

“Argh! You are so insufferable. After graduation you are never seeing me again, I promise you that Rafe.”

“Either you go with me, or I go with you.” Rafe starts circling you. Board body casting a shadow over you at every angle. You stay in place but swivel your head around to keep him in your sight. An airy touch of his hand has you flinching, him smiling. “You really want to be alone with me on the other side of the country? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re goin’ to be working.” Your mouth gapes open. “Your dad will-“

“What, what? What will my dad do, Angel? You don’t know my dad. I can have him postpone this construction for fuckin’ months, years. Bleed your dad fuckin’ dry –”

“You can’t do shit. Your little power here doesn’t reach everywhere, neither does your dads.”

“You don’t know what my dad is capable of.” Rafe pokes his finger at your collarbone. “Clearly, you don’t understand what I’m capable of. Think of your sister, how would she feel if she can’t use daddy’s money to travel anymore?”

“You can’t –”

“Your dad loves his job so much, you really gonna take that away from him? Ruin your parents’ marriage? And your poor mom…”

Shoulders bounce against one another as you whirl as you growl. “Don’t talk about my mom.”

“Her sensitive little heart would be destroyed with all that grief.”

Rafe saturates you with too many words, too many worries to catch up to any of them. Circling again to face you, he twists his fist into your skirt. Hauls you closer until the hem’s dangerously high, giving him a glance at your black panties.

You squeak out his name, one hand on his bulging forearm as the other struggles to lower your skirt back down.

“I can take you right here. I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees me.” His hand dips to the inviting black curtain. Finger creasing between your seam, Rafe rubs it back and forth. “And I’d get away with it.”

Your chin wavers with failed words, body taunt from leaning back. A moment of silence as his promises solidify in your mind. A breath away from crumbling

Fists strike on his chest, a snarling show of teeth as you curse and fight in his hold. Calling him every name under the sun. A tantrum if he’s ever seen one. Your knee hits his thigh, missing your true target of his groin so Rafe spins you, bear hugging you in restraint.

“Pick one.” Rafe hisses in your ear, forehead pressed to your temple. “California or Outer banks.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’d drag you down with me.” He chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear.

Your head knocks at his chin as you give another thrash. Breathing compressed with his hold, you tire in mere minutes.

“Fuck!” A final shout. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Mm, go where?” The teasing tilt rolls off with victory.

“I’ll go to Outer Banks with you, you fucking prick.” Rafe loosens his arms just so, allowing you to twirl away with a heaving chest. Cheeks red and pointing a finger at him. “Until the end of the summer.”

Rafe scoffs, tapping at his chest. “Until I say.”

“When the jobs done.”

“Six months.”

“Deal.”

Both of you sigh rough and loud. Rafe feels a vein in his neck pulse with each luh-dub of his heart. Cracking his neck to the side frees a smile from him.

“See, sweetheart, I knew we’d be able to compromise.”

[bitchyycapricorn]

Warm Tea For The Ill

•Remus Lupin x Established Relationship Fem!Reader•

Masterlist

Word Count: 3k+

Synopsis: You and Remus tell the others you’re feeling ill on a nice day in order to get some down time. Sirius is worried about you both and just wants to make sure you’re ok.

Background: Y/N’s animagus is a bunny, hence the nickname “bunny” and her marauder nickname is “Thumper”. Takes place during 7th year (though not specifically mentioned).

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), face riding (f), unprotected sex, slight dom!Remus, caught having sex, praise kink, fluff

AN:Not edited also my story is deleting parts and glitching out soooo…

“Shhh,” Remus hushed you with a small laugh, holding open the door to the boys dormitory so you could slip inside. Both you and Remus had decided to play ill today in order to get some alone time while everyone else was out at the Black Lake. Knowing the boys and their love for trouble mixed with water, your time together should go completely undisturbed. Normally alone time between you and Remus looked like reading a book together while snuggled up on his bed since the chances of someone busting down the door was so high. The fact that everyone was a good ways away and completely distracted from coming back to bother you and Remus gave you butterflies. 

You shuffled into Remus’s room making your way over to his bed, which sat to the right of the room and closest to the door, as Remus quickly shut the door. The thought of being alone with you overtook Remus’s mind causing him to completely forget to lock the door behind him in the process. Letting out a sigh of relief, Remus was quick to make his way behind you so he could press his body against yours. His face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his lips left soft wet kisses against your exposed skin.

“It feels like bloody forever since we’ve been alone together bunny,” Remus cooed. A soft moan escaped your lips at the feeling, making him smile against your skin. “You smell so good darling, hell you look beyond good. Has me wondering if you taste as good as you look.” He murmured between the kisses he was planting on your shoulder.

“Remus, we’ve been alone together for less than five minutes and you’re already talking about shagging me.” You jokingly scolded whilst bringing your hand up to cup his jaw on the side he was kissing your shoulder.

“I can’t help it,” Remus whined. “You look so bloody gorgeous in my sweater.” His head turned slightly so he could kiss your palm while he spoke. He muttered a few soft praises into your hand before finally shuffling you both forward and onto the bed. 

The light yet inescapable nudges caused you to tumble forward onto Remus’s soft sheets and let out a small “numph” as your stomach made impact with the mattress. Remus let out a small laugh and helped to turn you around onto your back, You let out a huff as you scooted up to lean against the bed’s headboard. “That was mean,” you laugh as Remus begins to crawl over to your sitting figure. His much taller frame looms over yours despite him being on all fours in front of you.

“I just want to cuddle you up and kiss you until your lips are swollen. That’s kinda hard when you’re standing up Y/N.” He laughed as he pressed a kiss against your lips. You could both taste and smell the dark chocolate that lingered on his lips from earlier. Along with the faint scent of old books and morning dew radiating off the rest of his body. You smiled at the smell thinking back to the few times you’d smelled amortentia. It always smelled like Remus, and occasionally, if you were lucky, it sometimes gave off the aroma of Remus’s hair after he showered. 

Remus was also enjoying the sweet scent that radiated off your warm body. Your natural smell of (…), (…), and (…) were a reminder that he really did have someone in this world. For Remus, amortentia was a bittersweet topic and memory. Though it aided him in the reminder of you and all your beauty it was also a reminder of the way his father forced him to smell it at the mere age of five in hopes of confirming Remus still had someone out there for him. Which Remus thought now was silly, since that simply was not how amortentia worked. 

Your hands grasping the bottom of Remus’s sweater are what pulled him from his thoughts and back into your overwhelmingly calming presence. You had a sort of warmth to you that constantly kept Remus grounded no matter what memory crept into his mind. It was the way your warm lips were pressing into his neck and causing him to moan and whimper that reminded him he was right where he was supposed to be. 

Your hands continued to tug at Remus’s sweater until it was over his head and on the ground. The new sensation of cold air against Remus’s skin caused him to shiver. He was now hyper aware of the contrast between the temperature of the room and your burning hands as they traced over the many scars that littered his back and chest. A scratchy moan left his throat as you traced your index finger down the length of his stomach scar and towards the waistband of his black uniform pants.

“You’re always so eager to take care of me bunny, why don’t I take care of you for a bit?” Remus hummed as you toyed with his waistband. 

You pulled away from his neck to look into his pretty brown eyes. “Rem,” you began, fidgeting nervously at the thought. “I would really like that, but I don’t want you to feel like this isn’t about you too.” 

Remus chuckled under his breath, raising his hand to your face so he could brush the fallen strands of hair out of your eye. “I get more pleasure than I think you realize when I’m buried between your thighs.” His lips connected with yours for a moment before continuing, “I get high off the feeling of your legs thrown over my shoulders as they squeeze around my head everytime I touch the right place….” Another kiss. “I love it when you hover over my face and allow yourself to fuck my tongue at the pace that feels best for you little bunny.” His lips were so soft against yours. “It makes me so bloody hard to feel your body trembling.” His voice was seductively sweet as he spoke against your lips, something he did when he was feeling confident. 

His words made your body weak and your mind malfunction, only allowing a small “please,” to escape your lips. It was now Remus’s turn to attack your neck with wet kisses and light red bite marks which almost certainly would leave small purple bruises on your soft skin. You knew that Remus thoroughly enjoyed marking you up as the full moon approached, but you also knew that was at least a week and a half away leaving him in a limbo between having sweet passionate sex, and having rough scandalous sex. 

Remus’s hands danced at the hem of your top signaling that it was now your turn to remove your, well Remus’s, sweater. Instinctively, you raised your arms so Remus could tug the soft material up your torso and over your head. “I have a feeling I’m never getting this sweater back,” Remus teases, sitting up and examining the maroon material in his hand. 

“You can have it back for a little while, but only so it will smell like you again. Then you have to return it,” You tease back, taking the shirt from him. 

“Return? Love, that’s my jumper,” Remus shook his head as he laughed. He took the material back from you but only to toss it to the side. “Not that it matters though darling. I don’t want either of us wearing it right now anyways.” A small giggle escaped your lips at his words making him smile even wider than he was before. He brought his hand up to your right cheek, stroking your jaw with his thumb. “Lay down and relax for me pretty girl,” Remus mumbled as he captured your lips between his own. 

“I can’t lay down if you keep snogging me,” You hum, pulling breathlessly away from the kiss. A small pout settled in on Remus’s face as he shuffled backwards so he could pull you by your legs into a lying position. A gasp left your mouth as your head made contact with his pillow. A smirk played at Remus’s lips while his eyes racked up and down your partially exposed body. 

“This has ought to go,” Remus murmured as his hands found their way to the zipper of your skirt, slowly pulling it off your flushed body. He let out a groan of relief as the skirt slipped past your foot and onto the floor, enjoying the sight of you in just your bra and panties. “These especially have to go,” his voice quivered slightly as he feverishly reached behind your back to unhook your bra. The bulge in his pants becoming increasingly more tight at the sight of your exposed tits.

Remus let out another throaty groan as he positioned himself between your legs so his upper body was hovering over yours. His head dipped down to pick up where he left off earlier, trailing hot kisses down your neck and towards your swollen breast. You let out a few whimpers as Remus’s lips danced across your now exposed chest. His right hand began to roam up and down the curve of your waist while he used the other to prop himself up. His fingers traced patterns onto your skin, dipping between your thighs occasionally before pulling back out to travel up your stomach. 

His lips grazed the swell of your breast making you moan. You could feel him smile against your skin before he used his tongue to slowly circle the skin around your nipple. The sensation pulled a small gasp from your lips as you pushed your chest upwards involuntarily. 

You let out a whine as you grasped Remus’s hair. “Remus please,” you begged. His tongue grazed the underside of your nipple before he took the hard bud between his lips, slowly sucking on the bundle of nerves as you pushed his face deeper into your tit. The feeling of his mouth on you sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body like an electric shock. You allowed yourself to absorb the waves of pleasure while also focusing on the way his finger tips danced across your lower abdomen. His mouth would occasionally switch between nipples, always leaving a train of kisses in the switching process. Your hands stayed messily tangled in his hair, helping guide his head to the place you wanted him.

Soon you found yourself lightly pushing his head downwards. Desperately wanting to feel his mouth where you needed him most. Remus was quick to pick up on this, since he redirected his trail of kisses down your stomach. Occasionally he would pause to bite the tender flesh before placing a gentle kiss over the damage. His hot trail of kisses was messy, but led where it needed to. Remus’s lips now hovered over the soft fabric covering your lower half. His head dipping downwards so he can place a kiss at the lining of your underwear, before taking it between his teeth. He pulls forward again slightly while snaking his hands under your ass to help lift your hips. His upper body pulls backwards in the process, allowing for him to edge the soft fabric down your thighs and off your legs. 

“I might just have to keep these,” Remus smirked as he held up your panties before tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. His hands slowly traveled back down your body and to your waist so he could help sit you up. You eyed him curiously at the motion, but he only gave you a sly smile in response. He lowered himself onto his back beside you before grabbing your hips once again so he could pull your body over his. He minivered you both so your knees were placed on both sides of his head. His arms coming from behind to wrap around your thighs. 

Remus helped ease you down so your heat hovered just above his face. “Come on bunny,” he cooed. “Ride my face.” You let out a soft moan as you fully lowered yourself onto his tongue, jutting your hips forward at the sensation of his tongue on your clit. You circled your hips slowly, a warm tingly feeling began to bubble up in your stomach as you did so. 

Remus’s grip tightened on your thigh as he helped guide your body forward and then backwards again. He reveled in the feeling of your wet heat as it slid up and down his tongue. He soaked up the feeling of your thighs trembling around his head, squeezing together each time he pressed his tongue flat against your clit. He pulled your body in closer, burying his face as deep in you as he possibly could. Small whimpers and long moans tumbled from your swollen lips as you grinded into your boyfriend's face. 

Within minutes your clit was becoming more and more sensitive as Remus drew circles around the nerve bundle with his tongue. The sensation makes you tremble as you feel yourself growing closer to your high by the second. 

Remus takes advantage of your closeness by slowly moving his hands up your thighs and to your hips. His hands lingered on your hips for a moment before drawing back and harshly grabbing your ass with a loud smack. Your body jutted forward at the sudden impact, the sensation of the slap flooding your senses making you gasp. Remus’s name began repeatedly spewing from your lips as the coil in your stomach snapped. A flood of relief and pleasure washed over your shanking figure as Remus helped you ride out your high from below. 

Exhaustion took over moments later causing you to fall back to Remus’s side once more. A shiver ran through your body as the heat your body had just been previously generating began to subside. Remus lifted his covers up and over both your naked bodies to help warm you up again. You rolled onto your side, facing the door, while Remus cuddled up into your backside. His arm snaked around your waist while he pushed his hips into yours. 

You arched your back with a soft moan at the feeling of his erection being pressed up against your ass. Remus leaned over you slightly so he could pepper kisses against the top of your shoulder and down your arm as he helped you grind yourself into him. “You want me to fuck you from behind bunny?” He moaned, biting into your shoulder softly.

“Y-yes please,” You whimpered, still slightly drowsy from your orgasm. Remus hummed at your response, removing his hand from your waist so he could line himself up at your entrance. He slowly ran the tip of his cock between your fold making you both shiver. Teasingly, he pushed his tip into you, before pulling out again slowly. You let out a small whine wanting Remus to fill you up already. “Remus…please,” you whimpered. 

“So needy,” Remus snickered before fully pushing into you. You let out a soft cry of relief at the feeling, circling your hips into his. Remus began thrusting into you slowly, wanting to take in the feeling of you around his cock for as long as he possibly could. His hands traveled up and down your body, traveling upwards so he could squeeze your tit occasionally. “Ah fuck Y/N,” Remus groaned as he began to pick up speed. “Look at you taking my cock so well.” His words made your body tremble, as soft moans spilled from your lips. Remus kissed his way up your neck and to your ear so he could whisper soft praises to you while he fucked into you mercilessly. 

You could feel his cock buried deep in you, sliding in and out of your dripping heat. Your ass bouncing everytime his hips snapped into yours. Your legs shaking violently at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your g-spot. Your breathing was heavy and so was Remus’s. His stomach muscles flexed with each thrust into you. His shakey moans and low groans told you he was enjoying every inch of your body. 

Remus could feel himself nearing closer to his high at the exact moment the handle to the door began to jiggle. Both you and Remus froze, pulling the covers up and over your shoulders to hide the fact you weren’t wearing anything. Your clothes were on the opposite side of the bed to the door, meaning if one of the boys just popped in they wouldn’t see. 

The door creaked open slightly revealing a blob of messy black hair. Sirius poked his head in to look at what he believed to be “sick” Y/N and Remus. “Hey, I just wanted to check on you guys,” Sirius said with a small sympathetic smile. 

“We’re doing alright, thanks Sir-“ you let out a small groan at the feeling of Remus thrusting out and then back into you lightly. 

“You both look bloody awful,” Sirius chuckled, scanning your red sweaty faces. “You both look like you’ve got a fever, do you need to go to the infirmary?” Remus thrusted into you again, causing yet another gasp to escape your lips, which you tried to cover up with a small cough. 

“We’re alright mate, just a bit under the weather. Our naps been helping though,” Remus replied, offering Sirius a smile. He had begun to pick up a steady pace now, thrusting in and out of you slowly. Your breathing picked up slightly, as you tried to keep down your noise level. 

“You alright Y/N?” Sirius asked, eyeing your shaky figure. 

“Y-yeah just a bit..ugh” you cut yourself off with a moan, feeling Remus’s fingers suddenly drawing small circled on your clit. “Fuck, sorry..I-um, I just have..have the j-jitters.” You huffed out, feeling a knot building up in your stomach for the second time that day. Waves of pleasure continue to course through your body as Remus keeps up his steady thrusts. 

“Do you want me to bring you a warm cup of tea from the hall?” Sirius asked as he observed the way your body was shaking slightly. You both made eye contact for a moment before you were forced to screw them shut at the feeling of your orgasm hitting you. You could feel your thighs squeeze together around Remus’s hand as he continued to lightly rub your clit through your high. You let out a few soft moans, before finally collecting yourself enough to meet Sirius' eyes again. 

It didn’t last long, since you could feel Remus begin to twitch inside you. His cock slowly draws out of you, before harshly pushing back in a few more times. Each thrust got harder and sloppier before the feeling of Remus filling you up with cum overtook your senses. Your eyes fluttered closed again as you let out another soft moan.

“Y/N…I’m going to go grab you some tea….Just stay right there…” Sirius' face turned from one of concern to sheer worry, genuinely believing that you were extremely sick. 

“T-Thank you p-padfoot,” You groaned as Remus pulled out of you. His cum dripped out of you and down the back of your thighs in the process. Sirius shut the door quickly and you could hear him scurry down the hall. “Remus what the actual fuck.” You sighed after a brief moment.

“Mmmm, did you enjoy that Bunny, because I sure did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. You let out another soft moan as you sat up. “Oh bunny,” Remus chuckled, “I love you.” He sat up as well, eyeing the clothes on the floor. “Let’s get dressed, and then we can run a bath for us in the Prefects bathroom hmm? We can use the one no one ever goes into.” 

You nodded quickly in agreement, allowing Remus to help dress you. As if on cue to you both being somewhat presentable, Sirius burst through the door once again holding a cup of tea. You thanked him profusely, taking the cup from his hand. 

“I’m going to take Y/N to grab a warm bath,” Remus told Sirius while taking your hand in his.

“That will probably help, feel better Thumper.” Sirius said ruffling your hair. 

“Thanks Pads,” You smiled, giving him a small hug. 

+++

Remus walks with you hand and hand down the corridors as you both make your way to the much more secluded Perfect bathroom. Due to the absurd location, you and Remus were truly the only two people to use the bathroom. You thoroughly believed that you both were the only ones to know about it in fact. And so, when you arrived at the entrance and pulled the doors open, neither of you were surprised that it was empty. 

Sneaking in quickly, Remus closed the door behind the both of you as you began peeling off your clothes. As your robes dropped from your body you observed the purple bruises beginning to form on your skin in the mirror. Remus shuffled behind you, followed by the sound of running water from the bath. Your eyes wandered across the mirror and  over to where he stood in front of the tub, admiring his every move. You watched as he slipped off his sweater, followed by his pants. The way his skin seemed to glow under the bathroom lights. Remus met your gaze, giving you a bright smile as he approached your naked figure. His arms engulfed you from behind, dangling loosely around your waist. 

He began pressing soft kisses to the top of your shoulder as you let out a sigh of relief. You were in desperate need of some after care after being interrupted by Sirius, and you knew the moment his lips made contact with your skin you would receive it. You also knew this was the perfect opportunity to take care of Remus as well, one of your favorite things to do. 

“Rem..the water is done, we have to go turn it off.” You hummed as you wiggled out of his grip to go turn the faucet off. Remus was quick to follow you, stepping into the tub before offering you his hand so he could help you get in. “The you,” you giggled, taking Remus’s hand so you could both sit down and enjoy the warm water. You allowed the feeling to engulf you as your back laid pressed against Remus’s chest. 

He was slowly scooping water over your head to wet your hair. Once he fould it to be sufficiently wet he began lathering his hands with shampoo. He slowly ran his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp slowly. 

You hummed at the feeling, hoping he would never stop. You knew this was where you wanted to be forever, “I love you Remus,” you whispered softly. 

“Oh darling,” Remus sighed, “I love you.”

+++

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[iamthecomet]

if you ever decide to write bloody dew… please contact me…… immediately

there’s not enough bloody dew in my life <3

Honestly, if I could get away with writing only bloody Dew I think I would. I cannot get enough of it. And there is not enough of it.

I have not known a single moment of peace since these clips/pictures came out. I'm so so so weak for it.

When I inevitably cave and write it--I'll make sure you're the first to know. 🖤🖤🖤

[fortheharbingers]

more dew smut PLZ

HAHA I will!

Just need to get thru this week🥲🥲🥲

[amparr]

Bloody Fire Dew

[callmeghoulshit]

BRITISH DAD AETHER THOUGHTS LETS GO @shaykesqueer

DIY dad aether getting Phant to hold a torch for him and all you can hear is the bickering

"stop bloody shaking it"

"I'm not moving"

"keep it bloody still!"

Day off on tour, Dew wants to buy a new expensive ass jacket but also doesn't want to buy it

"please Aethhhh 🥺"

"go ask your mother"

"MOUUUUUNT!"

"Aeon be quiet, Aether's asleep on the sofa"

"I'm resting my eyes damnit I'm not asleep"

Summoning day at the ministry:

"oh that's a nice present Rain! What is it?"

"It's a DS!"

"ah who got you that then?"

"you? Did?"

"oh did I? Uh you're welcome"

Either this'll be a hit with the British Ghesties or I'm about to realise there was something wrong with my father ✌️

[frost-queen]

The sirens task (Reader x Theodore Nott)

Requested by: anon ,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Rain tapped gently against the glass. Staining it as drops slowly dripped down. The room silent. Mattheo stood by the window watching his own blurred reflection in the glass. When focusing on the outsides, he saw the black lake. Lorenzo sitting on his bed fidgeting with his fingers. On the bed across from Lorenzo’s laid Theodore down.

Staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Lorenzo glanced at the golden egg positioned on Theodore’s nightstand. The egg that contained the sirens song. A song from deep below the surface. It’s warning clear as day. Theodore would have to venture into the darkest depts of the black lake. To retrieve something stolen from him.

Normally Lorenzo would be the one boost up his confident. To strike his ego with overconfidence that Theodore would win the second trial with his eyes closed. Yet it wasn’t the case. He had no words of confidence. No smugness inside of him to gloat. Nothing. Not even a silly comment to make the boys laugh.

The Triwizard tournament was no joke. It all became clear after the first trial. Theodore barely made it out alive. His dragon vicious and out of control. Burning and scorching the place. It’s fiery breath brewing a warmness in the arena.

The second task awaiting at his door. He felt like going up an endless stairway. Where each step felt like taking him back. Each step a plunge in the darkness, hoping their would be another step. Hoping the stairs would go on before he’d miss a step and fall into nothingness. The sirens song clear in his head. Echoing warningly. He barely made it out alive the first task.

He took a deep breath with a heavy weight on his chest. Mattheo wiped his hand hard across the glass. Spreading out the dew that had formed from the coldness outside trying to creep in their room. His action made Lorenzo look concerned up to him. Mattheo looked daringly at him, daring him to say something about his behavior. Theodore exhaled loud rolling over to his side.

Mattheo and Lorenzo catching it. – “It’s…it’s just another task…” – Lorenzo spoke trying to sooth it. – “In the bloody black lake!” – Mattheo cursed at him. – “Whatever the task is Theo will succeed!” – Lorenzo called out moving his posture up. – “He’ll curse any creature trying to come his way.” – Mattheo laughed mockingly.

Lorenzo’s cheeks bloated with anger, ready to spew his words out. – “Enough.” – Theodore sighed out. The two of them stared, keeping their tongue still. Mattheo moved to his bed, getting under the covers. With one final blow, he blew the candle out, darkening the room.

━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Theodore looked over his shoulder while going up the hill. – “What’s the matter?” – Lorenzo asked curious. – “Nothing…” – Theodore responded looking back forwards. – “I… I just thought to see Y/n… I haven’t seen her all morning.” – he spoke with a deep sigh. – “I’m sure she is already up ahead.” – Mattheo spoke walking at his left. – “You’ll see.” – Mattheo grabbed Theodore by his shoulders, pushing him slightly faster up the hill. – “Good luck Theodore.” – a girl expressed while running past him.

Theodore only provided her with a half hearted smile. The boys in front of them turned around hissing like a snake to show their support. It made Mattheo roll his eyes. Up ahead were Durmstrang boys cheering loudly for Victor. Behind them he could hear girls chatter in French, the beauxbattons. – “Potter stinks!” – a boy shouted as he came running past Lorenzo. Lorenzo laughed loud.

Theodore sighed deep at how ridiculous that was. Up the hill he noticed Professor McGonagall stand by some boats. – “Oh mister Nott.” – she called out, hurrying him over. Theodore broke free from his friends, walking over to her. Harry was already sitting in the boat with Victor and Fleur. – “We’ll see you in a bit.” – Mattheo spoke with a warm hand on his shoulder. – “Knock ‘em dead.” – Lorenzo whispered encouragingly before leaving with Mattheo.

Professor McGonagall gestured at the boat as Theodore got in. He sat himself beside Victor, rubbing his sweaty palms over his knees. – “Nervous?” – Victor chuckled out. – “No.” – Theodore responded hiding his hands. The boat set off on it’s own. Professor McGonagall standing at the shore with a pained expression. As if she knew something. Theodore lifted his head up to try and look over Victor.

Slowly the passing students on shore grew smaller and harder for him to recognize. Yet he still wanted to make sure if he saw you. It was unlike you to not wish him well on his second task. Perhaps Mattheo was right, and you would be waiting at the platform for him. Cheering by their side waiting for him to dive into the water.

The boat came to a slow stop at a platform in the midst of the water. Fleur got taken out first, then Harry, Victor and last him. He immediately noticed Mattheo and Lorenzo amongst the crowd of watchers. Mattheo locked eyes with Theodore shaking his head. Still no sign of you. Theodore sighed lowering his head a bit. Something felt wrong or out of place, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Somehow he felt unlucky without getting a ‘do well’ from you. It was the only thing he was anticipating. Desiring to have. Some good words from you and a kiss against the cheek. That was all he wanted to feel invincible. Now he felt vulnerable and already at defeat. He took his place waiting for the mark to jump in the water. Bang! The shot was fired as Victor and Fleur dived into the water.

“Theo jump!” – Lorenzo shouted seeing how his friend hadn’t moved. Theodore shot awake, diving into the water right before Harry got pushed in. The water clasped around him like a cold shock before settling to warmth. Limbs floating he looked around. Nothing but seaweed and his vision clouded from the water. Theodore started swimming going deeper than he ever thought he would go.

He avoided the seaweed knowing it could strap him. Keep him in place to fail this task. The eerie silence of the lake made him feel tiny. Nothing but endless waters around him. Letting his hand ripple through the water, he could feel the gentle current. Diving deeper between cliffs filled with coral. Looking behind him he saw a school of fish swim with him. Surpassing him with the current’s flow. The water darkening the deeper he got.

He reached an area filled with seaweed he couldn’t go round. The last of the school of fish separating behind him. As if scared to go through. Theodore had no choice but to go through the seaweed. Gently he moved the plants aside feeling the roughness of them. At this point it wasn’t clear which way he needed to go. Furrowing his brows he heard the soft sirens song.

Guiding him like a beacon through the darkness. He swam further through the seaweed keeping a mindful eye behind him. From the corner of his eye he saw something. Causing him to stop briefly and see. Another person swimming through the sea of seaweed with him. Narrowing his eyes he saw that it was Fleur. She looked frantically behind her. Almost as if she was being chased.

She stopped and slowly turned. Then back again as he noticed something among the seaweed. Bubbles escaped Theodore’s mouth when he had opened it in shock. Fleur suddenly being dragged under as a stream of bubbles marked her absence. Hearing sudden noises made him look behind him. Only to be surpassed and knocked over by a siren. She swam so quickly by him it made him roll under water. Her voice screeching loud.

Theodore saw the last of her disappear between the garden of seaweed before the water stilled again. Knowing he was losing time, he started to swim again. Making his way out of the garden of seaweed. Before him in the darkened water emerging a gateway. Unknowingly he saw over to it, not knowing what to expect. He swam through the gateway coming at the ruins of a once lost palace. Sirens left and right watching him carefully.

Theodore’s eyes widened seeing four bodies float in the midst of the ruins. It made him hurry over wondering who they were. The closer he got, the more he recognized. His heart was already feeling it while his brain couldn’t follow yet. Till it finally caught up with him. His eyes wide in horror at the floating people. Amidst them you. Theodore screamed loud, air bubbles leaving his mouth. Moving his hands to the side of his face, he shuddered.

The sirens watched him as he screamed again in agony. His heart bleeding. He quickly swam over to you, holding his hands against your cold cheeks. – “No…no… please…” – he called out feeling an urge of anger. He turned around expression hardened. He pulled out his wand blasting at the ruins out of hatred. – “I’ll kill you!” – he shouted blasting at another ruin that crumbled into pieces. The sirens screeched loud as one came swimming over to him.

Pointing her trident against his throat. – “Stick to the task.” – she called out with a screech. Theodore turned his head seeing Victor swim over to Cho, taking her with him back to the surface. Theodore pushed her trident away swimming back to you. He fired a spell at the seaweed around your ankles, freeing you. Wiping his tears underwater he took a hold of your arm, pulling you up with him.

A small sea creature swam his way. Before it could reach him, had he cast a spell at it. With determination and anger he swam up to the surface. The second his head shot up from out of the water, he gasped loud. You gasped as well awakening from your slumber. Mattheo grabbed the bar with wide eyes. – “Is that Y/n?” – he called out.

Lorenzo joining his side to see for himself. – “Y/n!” – Theodore called out, wrapping his arms around you. You coughed loud wondering why you were in the water. Mattheo and Lorenzo had run down to the lower platform to assist Theodore and you out of the water. You swam with Theodore to the platform.

Mattheo hoisted you up as Lorenzo threw a blanket around you. Theodore got passed a blanket as well. Professor McGonagall approached him as he was more concerned with you. – “Congratulations on second place, Mr. Nott.” – she spoke as Theodore moved his arm around you.

“Piss off!” – he shouted at her, pulling you along with him. Mattheo and Lorenzo shooting her a glare. – “Theo… is the task already over?” – you asked getting led into a corner by him. – “I’m sorry I have missed it.” – you continued. – “Missed it?” – Theodore freaked out. – “Y/n you were the bloody task!” – he outed startling you. You instantly started to cry connecting the dots.

Professor McGonagall asking you over. The boat ride all alone with her, Ron, Hermione, and Cho. Then your mind was blank till you resurfaced with Theodore. He came closer wiping your tears away. – “I want to curse them all for doing this to you. For doing this to me. Y/n when I saw you down there… I lost it. I wanted to kill everyone.” – he confessed.

You jumped at him, pressing your lips against his. Theodore kissed your lips tenderly relieved to have you with him again. – “I’m right here.” – you whispered. – “Now never leave.” – he whispered back before kissing you once more.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[madangel19]

26 & 1 with Phantom and Dew for the fluff prompts?

“Your hair is so soft..”

“You have something in you hair.. um–do you want me to get it out?”

Oh these are perfect for some Phantom x Dew, Anon!

Warnings: Murder Ghoul antics, some blood and gore but nothing too explicit

Word Count: 963

Phantom felt like he was in a daze as he sat with his fellow packmates around their meal. He had no idea hunting humans was so much fun! It wasn’t often that some annoying hunter came across the woods surrounding the ministry, but when it did happen, it was all a big game amongst the ghouls to see who could take him down first.

He and Aurora had followed close behind the rest of the pack, observing as they used their abilities to terrorize the human until he was too weak to fight back when Swiss and Mountain had descended upon him. Mountain simply pinned the man down with a single hand while Swiss and Aether used their quintessence to paralyze him. After being paralyzed, the pack took their time eating him alive. 

Phantom had never eaten anything so sweet before. With only one bite, both he and Aurora became ravenous and ate as much as they could while the others laughed.

“You two are so cute. Next time, you two should give hunting a try,” Cumulus chimed, pecking Aurora’s bloody cheek. The smaller ghoulette chirped happily in response, licking her lips after nibbling on a bone. 

Phantom looked over at Dewdrop sitting next to him. He had grabbed some organ and was tearing into it ravenously while moaning in content. There was some gore getting stuck in his pretty blonde hair, staining it and giving him red streaks. 

“Hey…Um…Dew? You have something in your hair…Um–do you want me to get it out?” Phantom asked, scooching closer to the fire ghoul.

Dewdrop stopped and looked over at him with a questioning look in his fiery eyes. Blood and gore dripped from his lips, making him look all the more irresistible to Phantom. His hair was a mess with gore now, but he was obviously unphased by it. Phantom gulped and put on a smile, hoping the fire ghoul would allow him to clean him.

He knew that it was normal for ghouls to groom each other after a meal. He looked around and saw that Cirrus and Cumulus were already licking a happily chirping Aurora clean. Swiss had taken Sunshine’s hand in his and was licking some gore off. Mountain was eying the mess that Rain and Aether had made as they continued to eat the more charred meat from the body. This was the perfect time to strengthen pack bonds and Phantom wanted to get closer to Dewdrop.

“Go for it,” Dewdrop said, wiping his mouth and licking the blood from his fingers.

Phantom’s heart nearly skipped a beat as he chittered excitedly and got closer to Dewdrop’s side. The fire ghoul was nibbling on a piece of meat while watching him curiously. Even some of the other ghouls were watching quietly. There was no possible way he could mess this up.

Phantom reached out and gently ran a few fingers through Dewdrop’s hair. He paused when he noticed just how soft and warm his hair was. All thoughts of the gore in Dewdrop’s hair were gone. 

“Your hair is so soft,” Phantom whispered as he carefully gave his head a scratch. Dewdrop purred softly, his eyes closing in bliss as he leaned into his touch.

“Mmm yeah. It’s the blood,” the fire ghoul murmured, yawning and exposing a mouthful of bloody teeth with a low hiss. Phantom continued petting him until Dewdrop was resting his head in his lap.

“You’re in for it now, Phantom. Once you start petting his head, he’ll never leave you alone,” Swiss chuckled darkly.

“He’ll bite ya if you stop,” Sunshine giggled.

“I won’t bite. I already ate,” Dewdrop murmured, gazing up at Phantom with a tired but content look in his eyes. 

Phantom didn’t mind. He was more than happy to touch his soft hair and clean him as much as he could. Maybe the fire ghoul would even show his thanks by doing the same thing with him. He had overheard many wonderful stories of how warm his fingers could be. 

He began picking the pieces of gore from his hair and popped them into his mouth. They were so warm and tasty. Was this just from being in Dewdrop’s hair? 

He went back to massaging Dewdrop’s scalp, getting even more rumbling purrs from him. After a few moments, he got an idea and used his quintessence on him. A drunken smile appeared on Dewdrop’s bloody lips as he curled up in Phantom’s lap. 

“Oh, how sweet!” Cumulus cooed.

“Someone get a picture of that,” Aether said.

“Mmm, no pictures. I’ll burn them if you do,” Dewdrop grumbled.

“You always say that, but you never do, Firefly,” Aether said with a chuckle.

Swiss had taken his phone out and was already taking pictures. Dewdrop grumbled something under his breath before turning his attention back to Phantom. He reached up and caressed the base of one of his horns with a playful smirk. Phantom shivered at the wonderful sensation before Dewdrop pulled his hand away, revealing a small piece of meat that had been stuck in his hair. 

“You gonna stay with me tonight?” He asked, popping the flesh in his mouth while winking at him playfully.

Phantom chirped in surprise, looking around at the rest of his packmates. His gaze immediately went to Aether who he knew often stayed with Dewdrop on most nights. Aether nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

“I…Um…Sure! I can sleepover,” Phantom stammered. He wasn’t sure what they would be doing since it looked like Dewdrop was going to pass out at any moment, but he was perfectly fine with just cuddling up with the warm ghoul.

“Perfect,” Dewdrop murmured, closing his eyes happily. 

“He likes you,” Rain commented.

Phantom smiled as he continued to pet Dewdrop’s soft hair.