#exactly how those gods became known as gods

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?

[hyperballart]

last nite

art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader !

art and patrick aren’t exactly subtle, and you are the push they didn’t know they needed.

(18+ pls!!)

author’s note: that one bitch (me) who doesn’t play about homoerotic friendships… this is mostly artrick but they all get nasty trust!

the swishing of the cheap beer from art’s mini fridge overlaps the song playing from the radio. it was something you recognized from this new york band you really liked—your friend had gifted you that record for your birthday a few years prior—you hummed out the tune as you sat on the desk chair of your friend’s dorm room, periodically lifting your gaze to the two boys also sharing the space.

you and patrick met at a local band’s show, that same night ended with you being pushed into the dark bathroom of the bar it was held at and you nearly swallowing each other’s tongues. he whispered into your ear about how good you tasted, how nice your ass felt in his hands, how fucking sexy you looked dancing out there. and after he bent you over the sink to get a taste of your sweet cunt and you returned the favor, the brunette gave you his number—it surprised you, that he wanted to continue seeing you and maybe take it further. it wasn’t until a couple hangouts that you met art.

he was by definition a good boy. always respectful and cordial around you, sweet, and even bashful at times. you coincidentally attended the same university—even shared common friends other than patrick. the three of you became well acquainted quickly. movie nights in art’s dorm when patrick came to visit, night drives to the beach, it was all simple and fun.

of course you and patrick hooked up whenever he came around, which seemed to frequent as he was on a month-long break from tour. on one of those particular nights, as you were riding him, somehow the topic of art came up.

“saw him at practice last week,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and slightly tug, “he’s really good.”

patrick stutters his hips and unwillingly twitches inside of you, as if images of his best friend playing flashed through his brain in those few seconds, “fuck, yeah he’s always been good.” his brain is too foggy to comprehend that he’s given away something you’ve been suspecting for a while—and you’ll keep digging to find what you really want.

you look down at him on the bed and notice how his mouth has dropped a bit further and his eyes become more slanted, you push your fingers into his mouth which he automatically starts to suck, and you ride him until he’s whimpering around them and filling you up. you’ll get something else out of him soon.

the next time happens to be the night right after, you’re at your favorite ice cream place and decide it’s the right time to keep prodding.

“you and art—you seem pretty close—how long have you known each other again?” you scrape the sides of your cup from the melted treat and look at him eating his.

“well, we went to boarding school together,” patrick speaks with some waffle cone bits crunching in his mouth—a horrible habit of his you have come to detest from the few months of knowing him—“we shared a room since we were 12, i think i’ve mentioned this,” he swallows everything in his mouth down and continues, “we are pretty close. we’d get teased for it a lot in school—i never really gave a fuck but you know art. he takes things to heart.”

“right, i can see that,” you didn’t exactly plan out how you were going to lead him to where you wanted but you get an idea, “i wanna know more. tell me some fun stories, i can imagine you two got up to a lot of trouble,” you fully turn to face him in your seat.

he racks his brain for a while and eventually, “one time i got caught with porno magazines under my bed and i blamed art. it was this whole thing—his grandma gave him an earful over the phone—god she was pissed,” a chuckle leaves him as he recalls the story, “anyway, we almost got kicked out and he didn’t speak to me for weeks. can’t remember how we made up or how i even got in possession of those magazines but we definitely learned our lesson.”

you’re giggling, “god you’re awful, what else have you put poor innocent art through?”

he turns to face you now, “i taught him everything he knows,” a smug smirk slowly takes over his expression, “ taught him how to kiss and how to jerk off. poor thing didn’t even know how to handle morning wood before i showed him.”

and there’s your chance, “so you two have like…”

he pauses and takes in your assumption, “oh god no, not like that,” a hand runs down his face quickly as a laugh of disbelief leaves him. “we’ve never—would never go there, you know? no shame to anyone who does we just—it was practice before we started dating and all that. was just helping him out.”

and well, that gave you enough of an incentive.

now you’re all in art’s dorm, a little buzzed from the alcohol and tired from a day at the beach. patrick sits on a small couch with his legs spread. both boys have decided to forgo their shirts, only in their swim trunks—patrick’s much shorter than the blonde’s. you still in your bikini top and tiny jean shorts.

“what about that girl you were seeing, what’s her name again?” patrick interrogates a clearly agitated art who sits on the floor rolling his eyes.

“i told you that’s over, she wasn’t looking for anything serious and i found out the hard way.”

“he means he saw her making out with one of his buddies at a frat party,” you add smirking over your bottle.

“okay, fuck off first of all—“

“hey, man calm down, look—“ patrick interjected, “there’s lots of chicks that would bang you, i’m sure a pretty boy like you has no problem getting laid. go charm up some nice girl that volunteers at the soup kitchen on her free time and—“

“fuck you patrick.” there’s no malice behind his words though—and you can spot the blush that takes over his pale complexion at the previous remark as he shakes his head. “it’s easy for you to say,” he looks up at you as he says it, “you guys fuck like rabbits any chance you get.”

“is that what it is then? you being pent up?” you cut in. “there’s lot of girls here who would love to fuck you, artie. you’re telling me none have caught your eye?”

art is silent, looking to see what patrick was thinking, but the latter simply looks curious—excited almost— and so he just sits picking at the hem of his shorts.

“oh i get it,” you continue, “you’re jealous. you think i’m taking your precious best friend away, don’t you?” you slide down from the chair to take a spot right next to him and whisper the next thing so only he hears, “you are jealous. don’t worry, we can share him.”

you pull back to see his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly parted, in shock and arousal—maybe even in acceptance. you can’t help the small grin as you look from him to the other still sitting on the couch, you can see his chest rising a bit heavier now.

you feel that as an agreement from both as you perch on the bed and call them both to follow at each of your sides. you can feel them eyeing you and for a split second, you see them staring at each other in a way that surpasses anything platonic they insist on having.

when you feel them both lean in to opposite sides of your neck you halt their movements. a look of confusion passes through their faces as they wait for you to explain.

“i think you guys have some making up to do,” the look on their faces creases further, “art, aren’t you curious to feel what his lips are like again? i have a feeling he has improved greatly since you were 13.”

art’s face falls, he looks at patrick in annoyance, “you said you would never tell, dude what the fuck.”

patrick just shrugs, still wanting to proceed. “i told you, that was only for practice. we’re grown now.”

“sure,” you pretend to let it go and you have on a stupid smile that he just wants to kiss off your face. you start leaning towards patrick and grant him that wish, using your hand on his jaw to give you access to his tongue. it quickly becomes heated, you land on his lap and grind yourself on the hard bulge in his trunks. his big hand gropes your ass and he moans greedily in your mouth. you pull away and let him suck and nip on the length of your neck before looking at art, who looks pitiful with his mouth hung open and his eyes lingering on the spot where patrick is occupied. a smirk returns to your swollen lips.

you tug on patricks hair and swivel even harder on his dick, leading to him groaning out a fuck me baby, and you swear you see art’s cock twitch under the layer of thin clothing. you leave patricks lap despite his efforts to keep you there, now sat on the pretty blonde who can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. you stop his stressing when you place both of his palms on your hips, trailing them up to your barely-covered tits where he gives a soft squeeze and lets out a little whine. you finally lean down to kiss him and it’s as you’d expect from him—tentative and soft. a kiss you’d get from a boyfriend after a nice dinner date—not from whatever this was.

he lets out hums and low moans, but you can tell he’s getting desperate. god knows how long it’s been since he’s fucked something other than his hand. you pull away and return to your spot between them. they instantly both try to catch your lips, it’s messy with all three of you licking and sucking and kissing. at this point no one knows whose mouth is whose, and it doesn’t even matter because suddenly you’re pulling off. you lean back to catch your breath and then you see them.

they lick into each other’s mouths, art is mewling and patrick grips his curls to hold him in place. they seem to catch on after a ridiculous amount of time but when they do, they stare at you while they’re heaving breaths.

“are you guys gonna take care of that?” you look down at their laps, both having matching leaks of pre bleeding through their shorts. “come on get them out, you’ve seen each other plenty before right? nothing to be shy of.”

they both listen, each erection slapping up and standing on its own. it’s obscene and you dont think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. art’s cock is so pretty—you think—pink and curved. he is smooth, you always had assumed he would be anyway. you can tell he takes good care of himself, his balls the same flushed pink he gets on his cheeks when you tease him. the tip of him is so red, a dribble of white streaming down when he notices your attention on his cock—you almost coo at it when it twitches.

then you look at patrick. that same cock you love and worship. he’s thicker in girth, your pussy pulsates when your mind trails to the stretch he gives you. his balls are heavy, and he doesn’t ever fully shave them. you like them like that—the musk and how they give friction to your clit when hes fucking you. he’s also drooling from his tip. you decide to start off slow.

you scoot forwards and extend your arms to their laps. each one of your hands holds them and at the contact, they can’t help but buck their hips. you think it’s adorable to see them synchronized like that.

“ah, shit!” patrick throws his head back and looks down at you jerking him off, then looks to his right at the other cock in your hand and shakes his head in disbelief, “i can’t—fuck—i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i see the way you look at him, pat,” you quicken the speed of your hands and both of them cry out, “i gave you both what you wanted, handed on a silver fucking platter. i think you should be a little more grateful. in fact, my hands are getting tired,” and with that, you cut all contact with them and you can quite literally see them wilt.

“wha- no, please,” art manages to get through a whine, “my hand doesn’t—it doesn’t feel as good i’m so hard it hurts, please—“

“who said anything about using your own hand?”you cut him off.

patrick hesitantly stretches his arm over his friend’s lap, “we’re just,” his fingers make contact with art’s dick and he almost drools, “helping each other out.” an experimental tug has his back arching and makes him shut his eyes tight.

“pat-patrick—oh fuck.��

one would think art already came by how much he’s wetting his friend’s hand, and patrick seems to be mesmerized by the sight. “holy fuck art, look at how much you’re spilling,” as if on cue, that makes him squirt out more. art is gripping his sheets and his eyes dart from the hand stroking him fast and the boy in front of him.

“i’m—don’t go so fucking fast,” art tries to get out, “it’s been a while if—nghh—if you don’t slow down i’m gonna—fuck!” patrick clearly enjoys this as he can’t help laughing at his state.

“don’t tell me you’re a virgin, artie,” he slows down but continues teasing, “thought i taught you how to hold off better than that.”

and while you’d love to keep watching art squirm under his torture, you stop him, “i got an idea.”

patrick reluctantly pulls away and they both now stare expectantly, “push both of your cocks together, here like this—“ you direct them to sit with their legs spread in front of each other, overlapping and then you position them how you want them.

they can’t even speak, they’re just panting and looking down at the contact until you continue, “come on pat, hold both of them together,” you watch as he does so and grimaces trying to hold off, “look at that, your tips are kissing—how cute.”

they both whine and patrick mutters a shut up under his breath.

after a minute of heavy breathing, patricks large hand slowly strokes down on both of their cocks. it’s so wet, the sound of the slicking lewdly filling up the room but the sound of their cries is almost enough to drown it out. art is almost sobbing at this point, you’ve never heard someone sound so desperate. they almost can’t bare the friction of each other, their tangled legs twitching and shaking.

you almost start to get annoyed at how slow patrick is going for the sake of making the feeling last, but in a way you think it’s sweet. the years they’ve held off on each other finally leading to this—they deserved it. you’re still annoyed tho.

“go faster,” as the words leave your mouth they both mewl and shake their heads, “you look so hot like this, i’m so wet. i’m thinking of letting you both fuck me—at the same time. just like this, both in my cunt,” patrick’s hand loosens his grip he is almost shivering now, he has to hold off, “why’d you let go, hm?” you pull his hand back on, “i want you both to imagine it, it’s gonna be a tighter fit than this,” you pull your hand over patrick’s and tighten the grip hard, “there you go.”

art can’t even make out words anymore, the second he heard you say you wanted them both at once, his ears started ringing. as if that wasn’t enough, the tightened grip made him moan out pleas over and over. when he looks down, he knows he can’t hold longer and he lets you both know, “i’m gonna, i can’t it’s too much, too much, too tight i—“

you take this as your chance to do what you wanted since you saw the tent in his shorts, you lean down to where they are connected and suckle on his tip and that does it. he sobs out a curse and starts twitching, he cums all over your lips and patrick, you can’t believe how much is coming out of him.

patrick just about loses his mind when he sees it all happen. it’s a miracle he lasted over two minutes like this and he’s about to pass out, “oh fuck me, yeah fucking soak that dick—oh god— you’re so wet—how do you get this fucking—“ he suddenly yanks art by his neck and fucks his tongue into his mouth again, and even tho he is still dizzy from his orgasm, he kisses back just as messily. that’s the final straw for patrick to cum all over them and squeeze their tips together for the last time that night.

you watch it all happen with a lazy smile. they both lay down, still out of it while you scratch their heads gently and murmur sweet affirmations to them. you’re between them and it feels just right. you don’t need to talk about what happened just yet. just sleepily kiss each other until you knock out.

they’ll make up not making you cum tomorrow, you can picture them both licking between your legs and when they take turns suckling your clit, you’ll pretend not to notice how they’re jerking each other off out of your sight <3

[babygorewhore]

Cry Baby

Frat!Rafe Cameron x fem reader

After being invited to one of Rafe’s parties, you hide away in his room to escape the crowd. But he catches you using his pillow and makes you give him a show.

Warnings! Masturbation! Daddy kink! Unprotected sex! Spitting! Degrading! Crying kink! Oral! Male receiving! Porn! Barely proofread!

Part of Dolly and Morgan’s writing prompt game! Dividers from @xxbimbobunnyxx and dialogue is inspired from a conversation with @drewstarkeyslut W. C is 1k something!

You maneuvered through the mess of the house as you quickly found an empty room, Rafe’s bedroom and pressed your back against the door. It was a wild party. He was known for his booming music, booze and a good time. His graduation from college was no exception when he had texted to an invite the night before. You played hard to get even though you wanted him more than anyone in your life.

You wore your cropped tank top, best bra that pushed your chest high and perky, mini skirt that exposed your thighs. Fishnet tights topped with your combat doc Martins that gave you a few inches of height. Your makeup was perfect and you smelled like candy. You wanted to look good, impossible to resist but he was nowhere to be found.

As much as you loved your friends, the crowd became a little overwhelming and you needed a minute to collect yourself. You bit your lip as you examined his room. Despite his hot mess of a personality, his space was tidy and put together. Lots of photos with a hidden hobby of photography and trophies. You wanted him in here. You needed him so bad your core ached whenever you saw him.

Sitting on his bed, you rubbed your knees together and imagined him storming in. Taking you like he owned you within seconds and he would never let anyone touch you again. You exhaled as you imagined his muscular body over yours, holding you down by your throat as he pounded you into oblivion.

Your cunt fluttered underneath your panties and you settled on top of his pillow after you set your phone down, playing your favorite porn video. You would try your best to imagine him instead as you started grinding, moving your underwear to the side.

Seconds went by and your stomach tightened from your movements as you bounced. You squeezed your tit, groaning as you dug your nails in but a buzz caught your attention. You glanced down and came to a halt as you read the name.

Rafe was calling you.

You immediately answered, “Rafe?” You said breathlessly.

“I can see what you’re doing. I have a camera in my room.” Your mouth parted but he continued, “You’re a disgusting little bunny, aren’t you? Humping my pillow like a whore? Wishing it was my dick?”

You rolled your hips on the soft material, holding the phone close to your ear. “Mhm,” You moaned and you heard him let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah? Give me a show then. Show me exactly how you’d ride my cock, princess. Give me all those pretty sounds.”

You sucked your fingers with your free hand before sliding it down between your legs and you started rubbing circles on your clit. You lowered your chest down, sticking your ass up in the air as you moaned, your eyes drifting shut.

“Such a good fuckin girl, baby. Show me how good you can make yourself feel thinkin bout me.” He tells you.

“Shit-“ You whisper as arousal pools out of you, leaking onto the pillow as you roll your body, slowly removing your top. Your black bra with a little bow in the center on display as you pull your hand away from your cunt, dragging it down your chest and stomach.

“God damn, Angel. Perfect body, ass up and pussy on my pillow? Tryna spoil me?” His voice sounds strained and your eyes widen as you hear the door open.

You snap yourself to the side as Rafe slams the door shut with his foot, his t shirt fitting his large form as he storms toward you. “Don’t act all shy now, baby doll. We’re just gettin started,” He wraps his arm around your waist, lifting you up off the pillow. With one hand, he peels off his shorts.

Rafe manhandles you around a little, not enough to hurt you but he sits down on the bed, pulling you on top of him in a straddle. His hard dick underneath you as your knees are wide apart. He leans forward and kisses you, sucking your lower lip before his tongue touches yours.

He gives your ass a hard spank before squeezing it and his other hand wraps around your throat. “Filthy little slut, so fuckin wet for daddy’s dick that you couldn’t even wait for me? Had to ride my pillow?” You hungrily suck his tongue, your hand pulling out his cock and you play with his balls.

“Fuck-“ He stutters as you sink down, taking him to the brim and your vision goes white as your soaked pussy takes him.

Your eyes water as he thrusts into you, your clit hitting his pelvis as you whimper and whine. Tears stream down your face as he spits in your mouth, blind pleasure overwhelming you as your hands settle on his chest.

“Knew you were a god damn cry baby but fuck, bunny. Tears because my dick is so good? You really are a dirty little slut, huh?” Rafe takes his thumb and wipes away your tears before smearing your spit on your mouth. Messing up your lipstick.

“Making a mess on my cock. Cum for me, I’m gonna fuck you full.” Rafe reaches up and takes off his SnapBack, setting it on your head. “Turn the fuck around.” He moves you so your back is against his chest, ass bouncing as you ride him.

Your hands on his legs as your peak hits you hard, you throw your head back as Rafe grips your tits from behind, his lips finding your neck as you cream on his dick.

“Uh huh, that’s a good fuckin slut. Cum all over me, then you’re gonna lick it off.” Rafe slams into you one more time before you feel him cum in you, dripping out of your cunt and onto your thighs as he grunts. His moans mix with yours as you reach back and grab his hair, pulling the blonde strands as you bounce your ass harder.

You pry yourself free, hat slanted to the side and you wrap your hand around his dick. Cum glistening off his tip as your tongue laps at it, kitten licking and his fingers create a makeshift pony tail around his SnapBack.

“So fuckin pretty, baby girl. My own personal little show.” He rolls his head back as you suck his balls, your lips soft around him.

Rafe cups your jaw and moves you back, “Lay down, I’m not done with you yet. You’re gonna give me more of that perfect tight pussy and those pretty tears. Aren’t you, doll?”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @redhead1180 @oceandriveab @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @slvt4jamesmarch

[breadbrobin]

skipping stones

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

summary: it’s been a rough day for you, and clarisse doesn’t know how to help, as much as she wants to try

warnings: none really, just fluff and a little sad slander oops, oh and maybe slightly ooc clarisse as always

word count: 783

(hiiii it’s been a minute. i wrote this after skipping stones at a river for like an hour while my friend sat around next to me and i wanted someone to support me in my skipping endeavours so here we are)

————————————————

clarisse could always find you skipping stones.

you weren’t good at it. hell, you were even bad at it. but that never stopped you.

you’d told her once that it kept you closer to your family, since you hadn’t been able to get back to them since coming to camp two years ago, and you missed them more than words could describe.

she wasn’t even sure how it happened; how you became her best friend at camp, and she became yours, despite your differences.

where she was hard, you were soft. where she was cruel, you were kind. and where she was cold, you were as warm as any fire she’d ever known. warmer, even.

she didn’t even know when those feelings had shifted—from indifference to care, from friendship to love—but it didn’t really matter. what did matter was she could always find you skipping stones. and that’s exactly where you were.

she sat next to you on the shore, staring out at the long island sound ahead of her. you were looking down at the rocks, no doubt searching for your next ones to skip. your knees were bent and pulled to your chest with your arm under your thighs to lean forward. she couldn’t help but smile. if anyone saw she’d be made fun of, but with you, she didn’t care too much. she picked up a flat stone by her foot and nudged you.

you looked up at her with a smile, taking the stone and preparing to skip it. “thanks.” this one skipped maybe three times. she wasn’t really paying attention. her eyes were on your face, mapping your features, the light freckles, the crease between your eyebrows as you searched for another stone. she was watching your hands as you weighed two up before choosing one. she was staring at your lips, seeing them pout, press together, curl into a slight smile as the stone skipped.

“what’s wrong?” she asked.

“do you wanna try?” you extended a flat stone to her, about half the size of her palm. she was tempted to take it and put it in her pocket.

but she shook her head. “i’ve never had enough patience to learn to skip stones. you know that.”

“i do,” you nodded, your lips pressed together again. gods, what she wouldn’t give for those lips to be pressed against hers. “worth a shot.”

you skipped it, pouting as it crashed through a small wave and disappeared into the sea.

“what’s wrong?” clarisse asked again. “you can’t avoid the question forever, n/n.”

“yes, i can,” you said, skipping another rock.

“no. i won’t let you. what is it? did someone mess with you? i’ll kill them—“

you cut her off by laughing. “no, clarisse! no one messed with me, and please don’t commit any crimes in my name.”

“yours is the only name i’d ever commit crimes in,” she said firmly. you believed her. “now, tell me what’s wrong.”

you sighed and looked out at the grey horizon. it wasn’t a beautiful day, but it was warm for early spring and it hadn’t rained yet. “my dad called camp. he wants me to come home.”

“i thought your dad didn’t know where you were.”

“so did i.”

it was silent.

“so, what? he sent you away? that’s bullshit!”

“yeah,” you didn’t drag your eyes from the horizon. your knuckles were tight around a stone in your grip. “it is.”

her red-hot anger died in her throat as she saw your face and the blatant hurt on it. she wasn’t good at comforting people. she was actually really bad. it was easy to comfort clarisse: just let her yell about it and punch things until she feels better. but you… she’d seen you upset before, but never defeated. you looked defeated.

she was stumped.

“do you… do you need, like, a hug?” she offered awkwardly.

a snort escaped your lips. “a hug?”

“yeah! i mean… what do you need? how can i help you?” she asked, trying to save face.

you paused, turning your gaze to look at her face. “a hug would be nice, yeah.”

she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around you. she was worried it’d be awkward, that you’d both be tense and uncomfortable and it would be terrible, but you settled into her arms like you were made to be there. and god you were warm. it was like hugging someone who’d just gotten out of the drier.

“and if this doesn’t help we can throw rocks in the sea and yell about how angry we are,” she suggested after a moment. “that always helps me.”

she took your laughter as a good sign.

[svearehnn]

Worship | Azriel x Priestess!Reader

Summary: In which Azriel shows you that he does, in fact, know how to worship you.

This is purely smut. Do not expect a plot lmao. also minors dni pretty please thank you.

Warnings: pussy worship baby, smut, p in v, choking, absolute worship of reader, cat and mouse game (kinda?)

It started with the simple touches. Hands brushing, eyes locking for only a second before you looked away, a blush covering your face. You had only known the male for a week, yet it seemed as if every bone in your body yearned to be near him. 

Azriel was hemlocked beauty, sharp and stunning, but you knew there was something dark lurking beneath his golden skin. Ever since that first night in the library, where you saw him on the couch, you had not been able to stop thinking about him. He was propped up against the leather arm, a book in one hand while his other propped up his head. He glanced up at you and that was when you knew you were gone. You were utterly enamored by him, and he knew it.

That’s why whenever you saw him, there was a slight smirk on his lips. His fingers would skim your own, or they would rest on your hips as he passed. The shadows that accompanied him would ghost over your forearms, your calves, your cheek. 

You knew he thought this was a game–it was all too easy to rile the Day Court priestess up, to make your cheeks heat, to be the reason behind your shy glances. You, however, could not find a reason to care. Azriel was absolutely delectable and you wouldn’t mind landing in his bed. But you were playing your own game, at the time. He wasn’t going to get you easily. And it seemed as though his patience was almost up.

Azriel was exactly where he was the first time you saw him. You had given him a nod as you entered, books already stacked in your arms as you beelined for a table across the room from him. Even as you felt his eyes roam your body, you studied. Your nose stayed stuck in book after book for two hours. His shadows were getting antsy, more whirling around you by the minute. You finally glanced up at Azriel with a quirked brow and a soft smile on your lips. 

“You mind calling back your shadows?” Instead of responding he bookmarked his forgotten novel and stalked towards you, wings flexing out slightly. You stood, closing your own novel and bringing it to rest against your chest. 

“What have you been reading about for hours?” He drawled, his tone uninterested, but his asking saying otherwise. You shrugged and pushed your chair in.

“Oh, just priestess work. It would bore you.” You began to walk to the shelves, swaying your hips more than usual, as you went to return the book to its rightful spot. 

“Humor me.” He was following you; that was exactly what you wanted. You halted, whirling around to face him as you tilted your head in amusement.

“Well, I’m re-reading the old ways of worship.” The room around you became shaded as his shadows started to filter through the library.

“Worship? Please, do tell. In what ways do the past priestesses worship their gods?” You bit your lip, flitting your gaze to the ground.

“Well,” you started, eyes back on his, “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t understand.” He smirked at that as he casually leaned against a bookshelf beside him.

“What wouldn’t I understand, little priestess?” You shrugged and turned down one of the rows, Azriel following behind. Only once the novel that you held was placed back onto the shelf, you turned and deaned to answer him.

“You don’t know how to worship, Azriel.” Once the words left your lips, it was as if a switch was turned on. Azriel’s eyes darkened, zoning in on you with those hazel hues. 

“I know how to worship,” He purred, taking a step towards you as his wings stretched out behind him. Your eyes widened unconsciously, a gulp going down your throat. You always knew Azriel was scary, but this? This was utterly terrifying in the best possible way. His dark hair was mussed, eyes glazed as they stared into yours. His typically rigid posture was looser. He was looking down at you as if he were a god and you his creation.

For a second, you thought perhaps ichor ran through his veins. You pushed that thought deep down, however, knowing exactly what the Elders would have to say about that.

“I’ve spent years learning at the Temple, you’ve never set foot in to pray. Of course you don’t know how to worship.” He chuckled as he took another step towards you, effectively backing you up against the bookshelf.

“That’s where you’re wrong, little priestess.” Featherlight fingertips smoothed across your cheek and down your neck. Azriel leaned in, hot breath on your skin, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I know how to worship.” His grip tightened on the back of your neck, keeping you still as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. You couldn’t help but to expose your neck to him, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as he pressed chaste kisses down your neck.

“I may not know how to worship your gods,” his eyes gazed up at you as he got down on his knees, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder, “but I certainly do know how to worship you.” A gasp escaped you as he sucked a bruise into the skin of your inner thigh. His name fell from your lips, a failed hesitation as he moved his lips upward.

Your arousal pooled off of you in waves–even you could smell it as his finger traced your slit through soaked panties. Hazel irises met yours again, a silent question as he teased the fabric down. Your eyes shut, head hitting the novels behind you.

“Oh gods, yes.”

Azriel put your leg down, gently helping you out of your undergarments. He pulled your leg back up over his shoulder as soon as the piece of fabric was discarded on the floor. “A god indeed,” he murmured, eyes unmoving from your glistening pussy. That was the only warning you got before he licked a fat stripe up your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips. You felt him smile against your skin, lips wrapping around your bud and sucking softly. Your hands moved with their own volition, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling on the strands ever so slightly.

He growled and nipped, sending a bolt of heat up your spine. Azriel parted to slide a finger against you, coating it in your slick. As soon as he plunged it into you, his lips were back on your clit in a frenzy. He was no longer gentle, but ravenous, feasting on you like a man starved while his shadows eased down the sleeves of your dress.

You felt like you were floating, blissed out sounds falling from your lips, thighs shaking as he held you against the shelf. Shadows breezed around your nipples, pinching and pulling, and another finger entered you. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he lilted against you, his words vibrating against your clit. You dug your fingers into his scalp, fully at his mercy as your orgasm overcame you. His name was the only word you seemed to know as he worked you through your pleasure, never slowing down. Your eyes opened, black spots coating your vision as you looked down at him with tears in your eyes.

“Please, please Azriel.” You whined, eyes fluttering shut once again as another wave washed over you.

“Please what?” He pushed his fingers in deeper, hitting the spot that made you fall apart again.

“It’s too much.” You were sobbing by the time he pulled away from you. He stood up, hands steady against your hips as your body threatened to slide to the floor. Azriel tilted your chin, urging your eyes to meet his. He was golden, eyes alight, lips glistening with your cum. Seeing him struck a cord, arousal already pooling in your core again, thighs clenching shut to release some of the burden.

“I want to hear you say it,” he drawled, fingers bunching your skirts up above your ass. 

“Say what?” He only smirked, one of his hands leaving your hips to undo his belt.

“You know what I want you to say.” You froze as he pulled out his dick, precum beaded at the tip of his head. When you didn’t respond, eyes glued to his length, his hand wrapped around your neck. He squeezed gently, your gaze flitting up to his. “Say it, little priestess.” You felt him press up against you, suppressing a whimper as he smeared your cum along his shaft.

“I-you know how to worship,” you whispered, hands gripping his shirt. “Gods you know how to worship, Azriel, I-fuck.” He slid into you, bottoming out within less than a second. A soft moan left his lips, his forehead falling against yours, fingers digging into the plush skin of your neck.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he groaned as he snapped his hips back into you. “You’re the only altar I will ever worship at, priestess.”

You were already fucked out but gods, his words emptied your mind completely. His dick was hitting you in all the right places, his hips never faltering as his pace quickened, bringing you straight to your release. 

“Gods Azriel,” You whimpered, obscene moans and sobs wracking your body as pulse after pulse of ecstasy brought you to the skies.

“Say my name again.” You obliged, his name falling from your lips again and again until he was faltering. One deep thrust in and he was flying. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he pulsed inside of you. Sweat-slicked skin, heavy breathing–Azriel was the first to move, pulling out of you before placing two hands on your cheeks and pulling you into a candied kiss. When he withdrew he lifted you into his arms, placing his lips on your forehead in a quick peck.

“Let’s get cleaned up, little priestess.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Softly, you mumbled out your thanks to the gods. Azriel only chuckled as he winnowed the both of you to his bath where hot water was already flowing out of the faucet to greet you.

[bunniwords]

໑ৎ ׁ ׅ♡ ALIBI 🌀

part xv - masterlist - part xvii xvi. prettiest girl

︶︶ 　 ˚ ᡴꪫ synopsis — you are known for your brain rot anime content on twitter. so much so that you caught the attention of txt’s soobin on his secret stan account and became mutuals. what will become of this new friendship?

bunni speaks — WE BACK and with partial written chapters! i'm not great at writing fluff so bare with me... also i have a bit of writer’s block… so please be kind to me… i’ve wrote this like last week but was really beating myself over it but i decided to just post it…

ONE MONTH.

just one more month before soobin was going to see you in new york. was he ready for it? not exactly. probably far from it actually, but one thing was for sure is that he wanted to see you.

there isn't really a day that goes by without him calling and messaging you. the two of you actually started this thing where you'd each send a series of random photos taken throughout the day while the other was sleeping and it’s not helping him calm down his feelings for you at all. he saved every single one of those photos and put it in an album on his phone to look back at on. he loved imagining you taking each picture with him in mind.

now, this new routine has him developing a bad habit of looking at his phone first thing in the morning. soobin knows he read some sort of article about looking at your phone first thing in the morning isn't really good for you but science didn't account for the feeling of waking up to twenty notifications from the girl you like. waking up to your messages gave soobin profound excitement for the day. his eyes could barely open but his first instinct now was to look at his phone and see what photos you took. his favorites were the ones where you'd take your outfit of the day in your full length mirror in your bedroom or maybe the ones of you posing with your food.

you’ve asked him about his great face reveal and soobin felt bad about not showing his face because you actually asked him a lot about it... to the point where you concluded that he was ugly as a joke. a joke he finds no joy in hearing as he defended his good looks to wits ends.

but you were too deep in your feelings that you were pretty sure you would be okay with however he looked.

i mean, if he was a total predator... you'd definitely reevaluate, but soo was not that. you think.

"are you working from home today?" soo asked you over the voice call.

"yup! i just made breakfast. wanna see?" you asked as you wiggled your bowl in front of the camera.

god, you were so cute.

"let's see. let's see."

"it's just cereal," you laughed, "they had the txt cereal at the store so i grabbed it for funsies since i'm seeing them next month."

"oh, right. haha."

every time txt came up in your conversation, soobin definitely started thinking about revealing the truth and the guilt that came with that. he still isn't sure how you'd react. would you feel betrayed that he didn't tell you? or would you be happy? what if you just leave the restaurant after finding out? or start blackmailing him for having a fan account?

okay, that last thought went a little wild side, because you wouldn't do that. he knows you wouldn't, but his mind definitely wondering about what you’d think about any of this. thinking about you being mad at him and leaving him was probably the worst scenario he could think of. he could already feel someone digging into his chest with a tight grip on his heart from the thought of you hating him.

"damn, okay. i know it wasn't that funny but you could've reacted a little," you joked.

"ha. ha. ha.”

" you’re so annoying…”

soobin laughed with a quick apology and lame excuse saying he was distracted.

you rolled your eyes but accepted his apology anyway. “well, how was your day? you're in japan right?"

yes, txt was doing their japanese comeback before the start of their world tour. but to you, soo was simply on a work trip.

"yeah, i am!"

"how is it?" you said before taking in a spoonful of cereal.

"busy... but fun. my team had a few work events today and i'm so tired," he said.

he was really downplaying his 'work events'. he had a group interview, magazine solo interview, a photoshoot, and to top it all off, there was the music show and fan interaction at the end of the day. he was beyond exhausted but still wanted to talk to you by the end of all of it. although, he didn’t really want to talk to you about work.

"did you want to turn in early? we can always talk in the morning for you," you offered, but you could already hear him grumbling.

"no, just another hour... i couldn’t even talk to you this morning."

oh, were you weak. you weren't going to say no. absolutely, not. you know, he didn’t say that he needed to talk to you everyday, but for him to basically imply that he couldn’t go to bed without talking to you once today almost sent you into a coma.

"oh, uh, yeah, okay, one more hour and then you go to sleep,” you stuttered, thinking you really played that one off.

"right before i forget… japan. did you want anything from here?"

and immediately, your ears perked up.

"oh, yes if i can ask you to look for a few things! i have a list," you bursted out into a fit of giggles from the thought of you being able to get your hands onto anything you got on this anime list.

"you... have a list?" he sounded as if he was judging you.

"hey... it's not as accessible here in america," you pouted, "leave me alone. you want my list or not?"

"give me the list," soobin smiled and you could hear the endearment in his voice.

"also, with all due respect, shut up. i know you got a list. you just wanted to judge me," you fussed.

"hey! that's not true!"

it most definitely was true (to both him having a list and him judging you).

that's alright though because while you were forging your annoyance, you were trying to calm your heart down from imagining this man scouring through the streets of tokyo in search for your most wanted anime merchandise.

TAG LIST: @hoonatic @paegesoobin @lun4kazumii @noraimp @isa942572 @yourenzoo @soobjvn @besciitos @sakiimeo @kumabeom @yyeonzi @bunnisoobin @girlz4jaem @msorriluv @wonderstrucktae @thing89 @dreeener @arep4con-qu3sp @otblous @luvvvash @huethusiasm @starryeyedluv @304files @kang-ulzzang @thisrandombitch @nocturnal-lanturn @bbeomgyucafe @virgo-and-libra @mumeimei @jinostooth @gy0th-yawnzzn @pinkhor1zon @film-sea @daechwitonguetech @jakesbubu @pagetammgyu @hanniemylovelyquokka @s0urcherry @bee-the-loser @sol3chu

[thekissofaphrodite]

Hiii im absolutely in-love with your writing and I was wondering if you could do Clarisse X daughter of Hecate (ive seen a few fics of this dynamic and as a child of Hecate and someone who has a massive crush on clarisse I love seeing works like those lmao)

THIS IS AMAZING OML. TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!! THIS IS SO FUN TO MAKE <33

Black Magic

Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Hecate!Reader

Summary: Brewing potions and matchmaking is a fun but not much fun as admiring the infallible Clarisse La Rue.

Warnings: KISSING. (i noticed that almost all of my requests had this warning :P )

Author's Note: I'M BACK WITH MY LAPTOP! AND I'LL TAKE A DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL SINCE IM TIRED FROM TRAVELING BUT HERE I AM! I DO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS.

__

You loved the smell of brewing potion.

As a child of Hecate, you and your half siblings were often known as witches and matchmakers at camp. But still, some campers looked you in the eye and would call you a freak, Boasting about how their godly parent were part of the olympians, pointing at your mother's lack of place beside the Olympians.

Still, you've got a queue of campers (Mostly girls) waiting outside your cabin, The first ones left your workshop with a big smile on their faces or clutching their best friend whispering excitedly.

you and your siblings don't exactly share the same power for your mother had blessed you with different, but divine powers, and sure enough, you got foreseeing.

But some also left with a distraught expression and muttering a string of curses at you...It's not your fault that that their crushes aren't interested in them! You're just a fortune teller!

__

"B-but this is a mistake! I love Presley! your magic is wrong!" Cried a girl from the aphrodite cabin, tears streaming down her cheeks, smudging her mascara, You gave her a sympathetic look before sighing.

"That's not what it said here..." You looked down at your cauldron with purple-ish pink bubbling liquid, The Boy, who you assumed was presley, had another girl in his arms, twirling her around as they dance into a romantic song. The aphrodite girl stormed away furiously, purposely knocking down several of your stacked candles and jars full of ingredients.

Then, You saw the girl bump into someone, It was Clarisse. The girl frowned, but then gulped when she saw Clarisse staring back at her.

The moment Clarisse saw you, her eyes soften a little bit, her lips curling into a smile as she watched you get flustered.

"Hey"

"Hey" You blushed as you hid your face in a book.

"Can i try?" Clarisse asked.

"Try what?" You raised your brow, staring at her carefully, The cauldron separating you two in between.

"That fortune potion thingy, I wanna know who i'd end up with" Her words made your heart break a little bit, You had a big crush on clarisse la rue the moment you stepped inside camp, and now here she is, you crush asking you to foresee her future with someone else.

You swallowed your disappointment and anger before nodding, your face frowning a little bit as you set your book down and grabbed a pair of scissors.

"I need a piece of your hair" You said, Clarisse then grabbed the scissors and cut a decent amount of hair.

She watched you carefully, her brown eyes glinting with admiration as you recited latin and greek spells before dropping her hair into the cauldron, the smoke started rising and the liquid started bubbling, at first, you thought your eyes deceived you, you saw yourself with clarisse, sitting under a tree your back leaned against hers as you two laughed, hands intertwined as the sun rays hit you two.

you became breathless, your body stiff, Clarisse was confused, her dark brows raised as she scanned your expression.

"Oh my gods, please don't tell me it's Chris Rodriguez" She said, she secretly hoped it would be you, the thought of chris rodriguez and her being all lovey dovey made her sick.

When she peaked into the cauldron, She felt victory, joy, ecstasy she couldn't describe it. Every happy emotions filling her as she watched herself and you in the cauldron, laughing while kissing each other's cheeks lovingly.

You became speechless while watching Clarisse's eyes beam with joy, You two stared at each other for a moment before the Ares girl took the matters to her hands and kissed you.

It took you a moment to process what's going on. Then you find yourself kissing her back, pulling her closer as her breasts pressed against yours.

You two were then interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you two quickly pulled away and stepped back. Clarisse pretended to look around while you improvised some words to save you and Clarisse from being caught.

Your half sister, Lou Ellen looked at you and Clarisse before going to her trunk, rummaging into her things.

"I'll have your strengthening draught ready by tomorrow" You blurted at clarisse, You looked at her and she stared back before nodding.

"Of course" She whispered.

As she left, You saw her wink at you cheekily before closing the door.

"What's that ares girl doing here?" Lou Ellen asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all" You whispered, still feeling her lingering touch.

A/N: THIS IS AMAZING OMG!!! I TRIED MY BEST TO MAKE IT MORE WITCHY AND STUFF BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS!!

[kifkay]

I love when magic has an effect on the body & soul of its caster. like!! you don’t get to be a reality-bending demi-god and walk away with no strings attached. there’s always a price.

Bloom’s dragon fire consumes her from the inside, leaving lightning-like tissues of scars along her limbs - be careful, rumbles the Great Dragon from within, don’t let your emotions consume you. Bloom wails from the pain and clutches whoever is in the vicinity - but cannot fully stop it. just prevent it or treat the aftermath.

Musa gets migraines. Stella becomes ill when she doesn’t get her daily dose of sunshine. Aisha’s senses get muddy sometimes, almost as if she’s submerged underwater. Nabu experiences uncontrollable tremors in his arms, when he creates too many of his phantoms. all of those are - yes, horrible to experience but manageable enough for the school (and the Magic community at large) to tell them to just suck it up and weather through.

once you get your enchantix though, you start developing… unique abilities. almost like, in achieving the final fairy form, you became one with your brand of magic.

Bloom starts producing smoke. Like - she snorts at something funny Riven or Sky say, and literal puffs of smoke emerge from her nose. It’s jarring at first (“Bloom Peters, when did you start smoking? do you know that it kills??”) but quickly becomes endearing once they realise it’s not life-threatening in any way (after speed-running through like fifteen Magix apothecaries). Among her other ‘oddities’: too hot to cuddle with (only Stella can stand the high temperature, since she has a resistance to heat), becomes strangely overprotective and a little possessive, her eyes sometimes become a startling orange hue as if she’s embodied by the great dragon himself (it’s just a party trick).

Stella becomes more ethereal. In certain lights, her skin looks translucent - like a mirage weaved with moonlight. Her hair glints in the sun, almost too bright to like at; her touch feels phantom-like. She becomes even more beautiful, but less - human, earth-bound, Stella-esque. A curse and a blessing, that one.

Musa’s hearing gets really fucking good. She has a steadily growing dossier of blackmail on every student in Alfea - simply because shut doors or longer distances are no longer obstacles for her. It’s annoying too, because she can’t exactly turn it off - and now she gets to hear all the things people say about her, behind her. but here’s a consolation - she can influence other creature’s emotions through the melodies she hums! like how in canon, she pacified the bird Roc and brought mirth to the arguing fairies.

Flora gets much sturdier. Her skin harder than bark; her body able to withstand thirst and hunger for much longer than the rest. It’s honestly so intimidating. Here’s this sweet young woman — known to cry for trampled flowers and cut weeds!! — absolutely bodying a sharp ass ice shard that Icy attacked her with. It just — crumbles upon colliding with Flora’s body. insane and frankly so so hot for others to see.

As per the negatives… I like the idea of Flora being able to connect to the memories of nature around her and literally absorb the pain/fear/anguish of whatever she witnessed.

Aisha and Bloom are similar, in a sense that both of them are vessels to primordial divinities of their universe — Bloom is the holder of the Dragon Flame, and Aisha is the child of the Infinite Ocean. therefore, both experience a more extreme transformation than their girl friends. like, Aisha’s dreams are infiltrated by visions of past and future; memories of those who were lost to the Ocean. she dreams of Politea, of Tritanus, of her mer cousins and ancestors, and even those who were not yet born. if Aisha was not so mentally wilful, she might’ve folded under the weight of those prophesies.

Aisha can also breathe under water and her body gets the musculature it needs to be on par with her mer cousins while swimming, because why the fuck not?

Tecna - I frankly have no ideas for and would love to hear suggestions!

[kaleldobrev]

Hauled Up

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam recruits you to try and convince Dean to stop hauling up in his room

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Mutual pining & Fluff

Authors Note: Takes place in season 14 | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As you were watching some Netflix, there was a hefty knock on your bedroom door. You had hoped that it was Dean who was knocking as you hadn't seen him in pretty much a few weeks since he had gotten back, but you knew that was a long shot. "Come in!" You called out, pausing the program that you were watching.

About two seconds later, Sam appeared, and he looked insanely drained and tired; something that's been pretty much normal for him over the last few weeks. Between helping the hunters who had come from the Apocalypse World and trying to find any information on where Dean/Michael could have been. Thankfully with Dean back, the only thing really draining him now was making sure the "newbies" knew how to handle certain cases on their own or through team-ups.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a little hesitant.

"Sure, what is it?" You asked. It could be a numerous amount of things as while Dean was gone, you had became Sam's right hand, assisting him with the other hunters. You were either helping to find cases, going on team-ups, cooking giant meals for everyone that could last days, or bandaging people up when they came back from a hunt.

"I need you to try and get Dean out from his room. He's been hauled up there for weeks. It's not good for him," Sam said, sighing a little.

"I think he just wants to be alone Sam. I mean, I don't really blame him. He was gone for weeks, and then when he came back, he came back to a place full of people that he doesn't know, not just us," you stated. You couldn't imagine what Dean went through while Michael was possessing him doing God Know's What. As much as you didn't mind having the other hunter's here, you knew that with these other hunters here, Dean couldn't really be himself even if he wanted to be. "Why can't you try and get him out?"

"I think you're the only person that might be able to," Sam stated.

"And why do you think I'd be able to convince him?" You questioned, raising a brow.

Sam looked at you, giving you one of those 'you know exactly why' look. It wasn't a secret that you and Dean had feelings for each other, and have had these feelings for each other for the past couple of years. It was one of those things that even though neither one of you had directly said to each other that you have these feelings; it was kind of a known fact how the two of you felt about each other.

You sighed. "I can try."

Walking into the kitchen, you had decided that one of the things that you were going to do in order to try and convince Dean to come out of his room was bring apple pie as a kind of offering to him.

As you gathered the ingredients, one of the hunters from the Apocalypse World walked into the kitchen with a big smile on their face. "You making apple pie Y/N?" He asked, rubbing his hands together.

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm making a pie for Dean," you said, starting to chop up the apples.

The man sat down at the counter, and even though you didn't directly look up at him, you could have sworn that he rolled his eyes at your response. As much as you had wanted to comment, you decided to ignore it. "Anything that I can help you with?" You asked.

"Hoping you can make this pie for me instead of Dean," he stated. Instead of the eyeroll like he had done before it was a wink; and it took all you could not to roll your own eyes.

"I remember you saying how much you hated apple pie," you stated, putting the apples into a bowl of cinnamon sugar.

"But I've never had your apple pie Sweetheart," he said, winking again.

This time, you had decided to say something, as you did not like when someone other than Dean had called you Sweetheart. "It's Y/N, not Sweetheart."

"It's just a nickname Y/N," he said. "Lighten up."

Before you could comment any further, you heard someone clear their throat in the doorway; and when the two of you looked up, looking into that direction, it was Sam with a clipboard in his hand. "Jones, shouldn't you be getting ready for your wendigo hunt with Xander?"

Jones looked at Sam for a moment, before looking at you. "Can't wait to eat this when I get back," he winked, getting up from his spot at the counter and making his way out of the kitchen.

As soon as Jones was out of the earshot, Sam sat down on the same stool that Jones was sitting at a few seconds before. "I could have handled that myself you know," you stated, giving the piecrust a gentle coating of butter to make sure that it didn't completely burn in the oven.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam said, slightly sighing. "Gonna try bribery?" He asked, pointing to the pie.

"I call it motivation," you shrugged.

With the pie finally done, you placed it onto a tray along with two forks and a pint of vanilla ice cream. You doubted you'd be able to convince Dean to come out of his room, but maybe you can convince him to at least share some of the apple pie that you had made for him with you so he could at least have some kind of social interaction.

Lifting up the tray, you took a deep breath and made your way out of the kitchen, heading to Dean's room.

Upon coming up to his door, it was shut like it has been the last several weeks, the sounds of his television blasting as he watched a horror movie (which sounded remotely like the All Saint's Day series to you, as you thought you could vaguely hear Hatchet Man's voice).

Knocking on the door, you heard Dean sigh loudly and pause the television. "Fuck off," he said, his voice annoyed.

"I don't really want to eat this apple pie by myself," you said, your voice a little low.

You heard Dean get up from his bed, slightly sighing. A few seconds later, his door opened and he looked down at you as you held the tray in your hands. "Sam put you up to this?" He asked.

"He asked me to try and convince you to come out of your room. But, I know I wouldn't be able to convince you, so, I decided to make some apple pie for us to share together instead," you smiled.

Dean eyed you and the pie for a moment before stepping to the side. "I'm watching All Saint's Day two," he said.

"Perfect," you said, stepping inside his room.

"Thanks for trying not to convince me," Dean said, between bites. "You're the only one I feel like gets it." He knew that you were the only person to get it, as you and him always seemed to be on similar wavelengths.

"I might not necessarily know what you went through but...I just know for me, if I came back to a Bunker full of strangers, I'd want to haul up in my room too," you said, wiping your mouth.

"You outdid yourself this time with the pie," he commented.

"It's how I always make it," you said.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know tastes...better than usual."

"Probably because you haven't had it in a while," you stated.

"Probably," he agreed.

"I hope you enjoyed your pie," you smiled, grabbing the tray; no more pie or ice cream in sight.

"I did, thanks," Dean said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you make your way to his bedroom door. "You didn't have to make it for me by the way. I know you've been busy with all the other hunters."

"Dean, I wanted to," you began, walking back to the bed where he was and placed the tray of empty dishes next to him. "Besides, I'll never be too busy for you," you stated, taking his hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You mean a lot to me Dean, you know that," you added.

The feeling of your hand in his was one that he longed for these past couple of weeks, but he didn't necessarily know how to ask for it. "You mean a lot to me too," he stated. More than you'll ever realize, he wanted to add. He took your other hand in his as he stood up from his spot on the bed gently looking down at you.

"Want to help me with the dishes and then we can come back in here and do something?" You asked him. "We can either watch something or just go to sleep; up to you," you softly smiled.

"I'd like for us to take a drive together. Feel like Baby's been neglected these past few months I've been away," he grinned; a brief chuckle leaving his lips.

"I'd like that," you smiled.

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[yourheart-inmyhands]

Just remembered the fallen god reader thingy- what if reader just one day regains their power ;)) and then just leaves them, I'm like super offended ;(( I dont wanna be mistreated by them

ahaha this ask made me chuckle a little! unfortunately my version of yandere archons aren't sweet in every scenario, i do still hope you enjoy though! :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including mentions of being held against ones will, mentions of manipulation, mentions of violence, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Venti:

Well, he certainly can’t just let you leave, not after all that hard work he put into nursing you back to health. No no, don’t you see, you owe him. You could try and claim he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, I mean he’s an Archon, a god just like you, doesn’t he see how unjust it is to demand payment?

You could beg and plead all you want, but unless your powers are enough to break the elemental barriers he’s set up, then I’m afraid you’re trapped. He won’t mistreat you, he’ll be nice and sweet to you so long as you behave, but your freedom will forever be removed.

“It’s not fair you say? A lot of things in this world aren’t fair, it’s just how it is.” His bright smile and humorous laugh do little to settle your unrest. No matter how hard you begged, how fast the tears poured from your eyes, or how strained your voice became from constant pleading, nothing worked. Perhaps if you learned to behave he’d let you see the sun again, until then, think long and well about all he had done for you. Remember exactly just how much you owe him for the things he’s done for you.

Zhongli:

He finds it curious that your powers have suddenly returned, but it does little to change his authority over you. Regardless of the strength you show or possess, Zhongli has ingrained into your mind just how weak and pathetic you are. You are nothing without him, your silly little powers mean nothing if you aren’t here with him. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that you need him?

There’s little that would change about the dynamic between the two of you, if anything it just gives Zhongli an excuse to be around you more. His eyes seem to always be observing you now, watching keenly to ensure you don’t dare step out of line. There will be consequences if you should try.

“Dinner is done, come eat.” His tone is warm, but there’s a familiar sense of sternness in the undertone. Since the resurgence of your powers, Zhongli had made sure to remind you of your place below him. It didn’t matter how hard you fought, the elder god showed little remorse when overpowering you. It was astounding to think that even after the loss of his gnosis he could still hold such power over you, but then again, Morax wasn’t known as the War God for nothing.

Raiden:

She doesn’t believe you at first, those who lose their divinity are not simply granted it back. It would take a long while and many displays of your capabilities to convince her. It doesn’t much change her opinion of you though. Raiden still thinks you are foolish and weak to have lost your powers to begin with. And for that, you should suffer the consequences.

Every escape attempt or effort put in to fight back is quickly shut down. She doesn’t even let you build up the hope that you’ll be able to land a hit before she’s got you disarmed, pinned, and once more shown your place beneath her. It gets a bit frustrating, having to always correct your silly outburst.

“When will you learn that you are nothing compared to me? You should be grateful I have enough decency to put up with this behavior, if you were anyone else I’d have tossed you to the streets like the pathetic waste you seem keen on acting like.” Her words are as rough and painful as her hold on you is. She has you under her, pinned to the floor in the living room of her home. It’s an embarrassing sight, your face held down to the hardwood as she scolds you like a child. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, but Raiden had hoped that by now you’d have learned your lesson. She is getting incredibly fed up with you.

Furina:

Your return of power puts her in a tough position because before when you were powerless, she had something to hold over your head. Now, you hold the power and she’s left to flounder.

There isn’t much she can do to keep you from leaving, sobbing on her knees as you walk towards the front door. It wasn’t fair, it wasn't fair that you got to get back what you lost, it wasn’t fair that you got to still be connected to divinity when she was cut entirely from it. 

“Please, please don’t leave me…” Furina kneels on the ground, hands balled into fists as she begs and sobs. She can just barely see the sides of your shoes as you walk past, disregarding her as you head for the front door. When she’s sure you’re not looking she ceases her crying, the tears were fake from the start. Reaching for the pipe she hid under the couch, she silently grabs it before standing. It was easier to hit you, having stopped in the doorway to admire your freedom, you had been too caught up to hear the soft patter of her footsteps behind you.

[angelicsjn]

LATEN REED.

Laten didn't believe in love at first sight. He never felt much for anyone at all, really.

He would hop from one person to another, hoping to feel something. Even if it only lasted a few minutes.

This caused himself quite the reputation, a good-looking guy, talented and popular but also a player.

Some people saw him as a challenge, as a trophy to say, 'I fucked him too.' While others decided to stay as far as possible.

Deep down, all he truly cared for was his family and rugby. That was it.

The third month into university and his reputation became a well-known thing. You were one of the few people who avoided him at all costs. If he walked one way, you'd walk the other. If he went to a party, you'd make sure you'd be far away.

Seeing the campus beauties hanging around him, grabbing his big and muscular arms, playing with the soft curls of his hair, complimenting his beautiful green eyes, he'd smile back, act shy, and shrug. So humble!!

All in all, Laten Reed wasn't a very likeable person, and you most definitely did not like him.

You could see right through that little act of his, and with time, it made your blood boil.

Fifth month into university, a party on a Sunday. Who decided a Sunday party would be wise? You went anyway, after an hour of begging from your flatmates.

One of your friends, Maddie, recently became friends with Laten's close knit group, and she couldn't wait for you to meet them all! You wanted to scream and cry and hide..

A game of spin the bottle, you won a once in a lifetime opportunity! Fifteen minutes locked in the bedroom with Laten Reed. THE Laten Reed. How lucky!!

Laten didn't even know who you were before that night. You were some insignificant person that blended in the crowd, so why would he know you? Obviously, you weren't worthy of his acknowledgement.

That's what you'd assume anyway. You expected his mindset to he exactly that when, in reality, it was quite the opposite.

Did he know you before that party? No. He didn't. But once he locked eyes on your form an hour before the game of spin the bottle, he couldn't look away.

Laten couldn't really understand why, you ghosted yourself around the people, you didn't speak to anyone outside your little bubble and it was almost like you did everything in your power to not gain attention and yet at the same time you had his full attention.

He realised you were friends with Maddie. It took him a while to register that fact because he was so invested in you and the mystery of you.

How had he never seen you before?

That's when he wormed his way in using the mutual friend to force interaction between you two. But that didn't work. You avoided even looking his way.

Why didn't you like him? He wanted to see you properly, but you hid yourself behind shy hands and hair.

Skipping to the fated game, you filled with dread when the bottle landed on you both. He noticed it. He had been watching you all night. He saw every emotion that flickersd across your masked features, and it annoyed him that he couldn't see more.

Unlike yourself, he felt lucky to be able to be stuck in a room for fifteen minutes with you.

You begrudgingly followed behind. He locked the door as told and watched as you sat on the bed awkwardly. Looking at your lap and it was like he could hear you mentally chanting, "I want to go, I want to go, I want to go."

You expected him to move onto you, sit beside you with a hand on your thigh, whispering against your ear and you shudder at the thought, but instead, he sat on the floor in front of you, crossing his legs with green eyes looking up at you.

If your distaste towards him wasn't so big, you'd have found him sweet. Cute. Innocent. Three things he most definitely wasn't. You immediately shook those thoughts out of your mind.

Yet he watched you, he could see your features better and God, you were mesmerising. He had never felt that way before, not about anything or anyone.

For once, Laten didn't want to prove his reputation to be true. He didn't want to sexualise the moment. He just wanted to watch. To look. Admire.

How you played with your fingers. Looked at the floor, avoiding contact. How you awkwardly shifted on the bed attempting to appear comfortable.

"I'm Laten." He said, simple. He knew you'd know. Everyone knew Laten. He just wanted to speak. To hear you speak to him. "Y/N." You replied, quiet, yet blunt, and he smiles. You noticed his smile, sweet. Cute. Innocent.

You could almost understand why girls easily got so used by him. He was beautiful. His sparkly eyes watched you, the smile lingered on his pretty lips, and you almost felt your heart beat faster than usual.

Nothing compared to him, though. He was enchanted by you.

From then on, you noticed him look at you a lot on campus, each party you both attended. He began to show up in places you hadn't seen him in before, and he'd smile that smile, and each time, you'd momentarily forget his reputation.

Little did you know, he didn't go to these places by chance, oh no. He followed. Since the day he saw you, he'd watch you. Forever. Watching. Admiring. Observing.

[da-rulah]

I hope you are having a wonderful day.

I humbly request some jealous cardi spice ♡

Thank you lovely! My day is going well, I've done nothing today other than write this filth.

So, listen... An idea came to me with this one... and I ran with it. I bloody love jealous tropes, as you may know if you've read Day 5 of Rituale Septem... But this one gets a little... sacrilegious.

Darling, this became feral. And I'm not sorry.

18+ MDNI! Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader.

TW/ Jealous themes (ofc), ex-boyfriend returns, mentions of past life in a christian church, violence, blood, fingering, rough sex, references to Satan and the Devil, possessiveness, breeding kink, ownership kink, creampie.

"Are. You. Mine?" artwork created by the incredibly talented @honimello!

Thank you so much, it's incredible and exactly how I pictured Copia's face in that scene...

If any artists are ever inspired by anything I write, please please do share it with me - I'd love to see what your mind's eye sees when reading my work. And this fandom is full of incredible talent. I love it here.

Frantic knocking on the door to Papa's quarters jolted you from the trance your book in hand had you in. Copia had been drifting off, his gloved fingers mindlessly playing with your hair as you read in his lap but he too startled to sit upright.

In a fumble of clumsy limbs, the two of you stood, Papa heading straight for the door to find Rain out of breath and panicked.

"Rain? What's the matter, mio amico?" Papa asked, waiting patiently for him to get his breath back. Clearly he had run as fast as he could to find Papa.

"Th-there's... a man... he's shouting about Sister ______ on the steps of the Ministry, Papa!" he explained frantically, waving his arm in the direction of the front doors.

Your eyes widened, Papa's head flinging around to look back at you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut. You know who it was... He'd found you.

"I-I'll go... I'll take care of it," you said, stepping around Copia and walking a little ways out into the hall when he grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

"What's going on?" he asked, "This sounds dangerous, why don't you let me..."

"He's not dangerous. He's just an idiot. I'll deal with it," you told him firmly. "Stay."

Copia let go of your arm and you continued to walk down the hall. He nodded in your direction at Rain, telling him to follow you and make sure you were in fact safe. Rain nodded and trotted behind you - you didn't mind him being your backup, but it was Copia you wanted to keep away from the situation.

As you got closer to the doors, you could hear the ramblings of the idiot on the Ministry steps, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"_________! Hey, I know you're in there! I know what they've done... They've stolen you away, told you lies and made you fall in love with the devil!"

You groaned to yourself, turning to Rain with an eye roll.

"Ex-boyfriends, eh?" you scoffed, before wrenching the door open and standing on the top step.

"Elijah, you sound like an idiot," you said, monotonous and feigning boredom.

"Oh, see? I knew you were here! Cavorting with heathens and the Devil! I need to take you home, _______. To bring you back to God!"

You knew your past in a Christian community would come back to bite you on the ass someday, but you'd hoped to be a little more prepared for it.

But no, here was your ex-boyfriend, now more religious than you'd ever known him when you were together, trying to... win you back? That was laughable.

"God only knows what you do within those walls... Filthy fornication, sacrifices to Satan..."

"That's rich, Elijah. I seem to remember you had no problem with fornication when we were together. But hey, one rule for you, another for the rest isn't it?" you laughed. Elijah saw read, stomping up the steps and standing on the one beneath you.

"I have seen the error of my ways, and I'm repenting every day for them, whore! You must do the same, come with me. Now!" he grabbed your arm, attempting to drag you down the steps and go back to the life you'd left behind many moons ago.

No way in hell were you going back there again.

You began kicking and yelling at him, flailing your arms as you panicked - he was strong, but Rain was behind you. No doubt he'd be jolted into action as he saw you being dragged away by this lunatic.

"I think you'd better let her go," a thickly-accented voice behind you stopped Elijah in his tracks, his head snapping around to look behind where you both were halfway down the steps.

Papa stood at the top, his hands behind his back and surrounded by three of his beefiest Ghouls - and Sodo. But Sodo was growling like the feral little raccoon he was.

"Or what, old man? You gonna take her from me?" Elijah challenged, pulling you against him with you back against his chest. He was scared, using you as a human shield. Pathetic. "She doesn't belong here, in this... this... vile place."

Copia laughed, stepping down the steps and holding a hand out to his side to keep his Ghouls at bay. He pried Elijah's hands off you, taking your hands in his and checking you were okay.

"Go wait up there with Rain, amore mio," he told you, his voice soft and his palm caressing your cheek to calm you. You nodded under his touch and headed back up to the top of the stairs, the Ghouls parting to let you stand behind them for safety. Rain came to your side, holding your hand.

Copia squared up to Elijah then, in a way you'd never seen him square up to anybody. He scared you, with how silent and yet, clearly livid he was.

"You're not taking her anywhere, stronzo." His voice was dark and commanding.

"Oh, I get it now..." Elijah began to laugh, cackling to himself as he doubled over at something so hilariously amusing to only him. "Are you... are you fucking him?" he asked you, pointing at Copia and dismissing him. "This weird, old guy? Really?"

You wanted to defend Copia, but the way he looked over his shoulder at you had you staying put and squeezing on Rain's hand.

"She's found her place here, able to live a life where she's not judged and vilified for living her fucking life. You people are all the same.. damning souls to Hell for the things you wish you allowed yourself to do. But oh no, they're sins, eh? You couldn't possibly..." Copia scoffed.

"I have sinned in the past, but I repented. I sinned plenty," Elijah's voice dropped so only Papa could hear, "I sinned with her..."

Copia's hands balled into fists at his side. Jealousy, no matter how warranted, flooded his veins like poison.

"I remember, too... I know what she likes, what she's into. Have you found that spot on her collarbone yet? She likes that..." Elijah was smirking, and you didn't like the look on his face as he whispered in Copia's ear. Copia remained still, fists clenched and staring straight ahead.

"I was her first, you know... Gave her her first orgasm, made her cum over and over... Can you do that, old man? One night with me again, and she'd forget your name if it was tattooed on her arm. She'll always be mine..."

A green mist descended in Copia's mind, and he couldn't help himself. He swung for Elijah, his fist connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack.

The Ghouls sprang into action when Elijah pounced on Copia, shoving him to the floor and trying to get a few punches in himself, but Copia was too strong for him. A man you thought would never hurt a fly, wouldn't be able to hold his own in a fight on account of his own awkwardness and his tender nature and yet... you were seeing a whole new, angry side to him. And it made your chest tighten, knowing he was fighting for you...

The Ghouls sprang into action, quickly restraining Elijah and dragging him to the parking lot around the side of the front building to the Ministry. You saw them throw him into the back of a van, two of them and Sodo joining him in the back whilst the remaining Ghoul got in the driver's seat.

You ran to Copia's side where he stood up, dusting himself off.

"Copia! Fucking hell, are you alright?" you asked, your hands pulling his face to look at you but he couldn't look you in the eye. Instead, he gripped your wrists in his and pulled you back up the steps, marching you back to his quarter's and ignoring Rain's protests he should go to the infirmary for the blood dripping from his forehead and lip.

You tried to slow him down, to tell him to stop and breathe but he ignored everything you said to him until he had you back in his living room, slamming the door behind him. He let you go, practically throwing you into the middle of the room as he stalked towards you with dark, hungry eyes.

'C-Copia... what did he say to you?" you asked him, terrified he was now angry at you for some lies Elijah may have told.

"You're mine, sí?" he asked, his voice deep and forced through grit teeth.

"W-what?" you asked; how could he ask that of you. He knew you were, body and soul.

"Are. You. Mine?" he asked, slowly. You took a step back.

"Of course I am!" you yelled, "Copia your head, your lip... Let me clean you up, okay? Just... Just take a breath, calm down," you told him, taking another step back as he took one towards you.

He ignored you, backing you up until your legs hit the couch behind you. He was in your space now, glowering down at you. The look in his eyes both terrified and excited you. With such a dark expression, the blood from his lip and forehead only served to add a menacing and yet, enticing air of danger to your predicament.

"Calm down? I am calm, amore mio. Why wouldn't I be calm, eh?" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Copia, please..." you lift your hand to caress his cheek, trying to check the damage to his lip and head but he catches your wrist in a tight grip, earning a gasp from you.

"I am a better man than him, sí?" he asked. You creased your brow in confusion for a minute, before remembering to answer him. Every millisecond of silence his grip on your wrist tightened.

"Y-yes, of course you are. Copia, you're scaring me..." Only half true, of course. He was absolutely a better man than Elijah ever was, and you were only... slightly scared in that moment.

"I love you more than he ever could, sí?" he asked.

"Y-you do, yes. And I love you, so much..." you told him, trying desperately to get him to just calm down, to snap out of whatever hex he was under.

"And..." he steps forward again, his foot between both yours as he presses his thigh between your legs. You can feel his hip against you, his groin pressing into your own hip bone. Was he... hard? "I fuck you better than he ever could, sí?"

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you stuttered an incoherent response. You hate to admit it but his anger was having an effect on you; his jealousy. Whatever Elijah had said to him, it must have riled him up enough to make him jealous in some way. And honestly, the thought of Copia being jealous should have had you angry at him, because how could he be jealous of that asshole?

But instead, it lit a furnace inside you. This incredibly powerful, wonderful man, who would rearrange the nine circles of Hell for you if only you asked, was jealous for you.

"Answer me," he growled, and you stammered again, unable to form a two words to string together. He took your silence as a no; severely misinterpreting the situation.

"Perhaps you need reminding, amore mio?" Copia grabbed your other arm and twisted you to the side, pushing you down to the couch with your back shoved into the corner. He knelt between your spread thighs, hands on the arm and backs of the couch and hovering above you.

"Ti scoperò finché non dimenticherai che quel tuo dio infernale ha mai fatto parte della tua vita, (I'll fuck you until you forget that that infernal God of yours was ever a part of your life)," he growled, his jealousy and anger at your past life bubbling away inside him. You didn't know enough Italian to know what he'd sad, but you recognised enough to know he was growling about God in your life? Whatever it was, it sent a flood of arousal to your core.

Before you knew it, his lips were pushed bruisingly hard against your own. You could taste the metallic pang of blood on your lips, but you had no room to care at that point. You let him consume you, his tongue working against your own with no contest as your gripped onto the lapels of his tattered jacket.

Copia's hands came to grip onto your habit either side of the buttons, and with one sharp tug he ripped it open, the buttons pinging off in different directions. he pulled again, lower, exposing your body to him where you lay.

You felt so desperate already, needy beneath him as you scrambled to push his jacket off him, then pulling on the knot of his blue neck tie and lifting that over his head with a brief separation of his punishing kiss.

Like he had to you, you pulled on either side of his shirt to try and rip it open, but you simply weren't strong enough. Copia chuckled, sitting up between your legs.

"My poor toppolina, let me help, hm?" he mocked, before ripping into his own shirt in one fell swoop. You ran your hands over his chest, marvelling at the structure of a well exercised man, his chest covered in an expanse of salt and pepper speckled chest hair. You traced the '666' over his heart, earning you a low growl from him.

"His mark, toppolina... You pledged yourself to Him now, sí? And to me..." You had, yes. Completely.

Before you could reply his lips were on yours again, licking and sucking at your bottom lip, biting down and earning a whimper from you. You bucked your hips against his thigh, already beginning to soak through the panties on display to him.

He noticed the damp patch, and his head twitched with a smirk. Without hesitation he was ripping them down your thighs and pulling them off your legs, exposing your glistening folds to him.

He swirled his gloved fingers through the mess a few times, before immediately sliding his ring and middle finger inside you. You took him with pleasure, back arching from the couch and a moan ripping from your throat.

"Tell me, amore mio, who makes you see stars every time he touches you, eh?" he taunted, hovering above you as you writhed, his fingers pumping and curling inside you bringing you so much bliss already.

"Y-you do, Copia... Fuck," you gasped when his thumb came to draw circles over your clit. "Don't stop, please..." you begged.

He had no intention of stopping, dragging you further and further towards a climax until finally, the gasp rising in your chest got stuck, and your orgasm burst inside you.

"C-Copia!" you stuttered a scream, hands flying to grip onto his wrist while his hand continued it's onslaught on your core until he was satisfied he'd got every ounce of pleasure from your orgasm as possible.

Your grip on him loosened as you came back down, and he took this as his chance to manhandle you, flipping you over onto your knees and bent over the corner of the couch lazily. When you gazed dreamily behind you, still hazy from your orgasm, you saw him unlacing the front of his tattered pants, pushing them down just enough to release his cock. He leant forward, gripping onto your hip with one hand and lining his length up with your folds with the other. He dragged the tip of his cock - an angry shade of red and leaking precum - through your juices.

"You're mine, amore mio," he growled through grit teeth, his bare chest pressed against the habit he'd bunched up around your hips, "I claim you as such."

In one swift motion, he slid home, filling you to the brim as his hips came into contact with your ass. He grunted when he bottomed out, the warmth of your inner walls sending a pleasurable shiver through his body.

Before long his hips were smacking into your ass over and over, his cock filling you deliciously while he angled himself to hit your g-spot over and over again. The slew of nonsense tumbling from your lips had him chuckling to himself between deep breaths as he exerted himself.

"So good you can't even talk, amore mio? Sí, no one can fuck you like I can, eh?" he taunted. "Say it. Say 'no one can fuck me like you can, Papa'!" he ordered.

"No one... can... fuck me... like you... Papa!" you cried, his titled coming out as a scream at a particularly hard thrust.

"Mine... you're all mine," he claimed, "Gonna fill you up, amore mio... Give you my seed to carry, make sure everyone sees you and knows you're claimed."

If his thrusts weren't already enough, his words were turning you on above and beyond anything he'd ever said to you before. Whilst you were your own person, and proudly so, you couldn't help the way hearing how possessive he was in this moment made you clench on his length.

"G-gonna... cum... Papa!" you yelled again, dangling on the edge, just a little too far from where you needed to be. He sensed you needed a nudge, his hand snaking around between the both of you and his fingertips rubbing over your sensitive clit once again.

"You'd like that hm? If Papa fucked you so hard, filled you so much with his seed everyone could see it? Everyone would know... They'd know I'd bred you so good, amore mio..." He was spewing utter filth, and it was having the desired effect on you...

"Papa..." you cried.

"Papa's here, amore... Papa's fucking you so good, eh? Fucking the damn antichrist into you!" he growled.

You lost control then, your cunt spasmed around him as you violently came around his length. He wrapped his arms around your chest, heaving you back against him with a hand gripping your chin. His hips continued to rut into you, fucking you through your orgasm as you gasped and reached for something, anything...

"That's it, eh? So good for me, cumming on Papa's cock like that... Just for me, hm?"

All you could do was whimper weakly as your body spasmed in his grasp. He held you so tightly against him, owning you, fucking into you over and over as he whispered filth into your ear you could barely pay attention to in your haze.

Before long, he was moaning wantonly in your ear and stuttering in his pace, a sure fire sign he was about to finish. With a little more clarity now, you figured you'd help him along.

"I-I'm yours, Papa..." you told him, "Devoted to you... Cum inside me, Papa. M-mark me... as yours..."

A fierce growl erupted from his chest, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tightened his grip, hips slowing but remaining powerful in a final few thrusts to prolong his climax. He filled you with his spend, so much you could hear the way it leaked from you with every last thrust he gave.

When he stilled, he buried himself deep and stayed put, tumbling onto the couch with you in his arms and holding you still so close to him. You stayed like that for a while, content being full of him and wrapped up in him all at the same time. Both of you needed a moment, just to catch your breath and come down from the immense high you'd experienced together.

After a while, Copia began to press kisses to your neck, little hisses in pain each time he did where his lip was bust and swollen. The blood on his head had dried but now the ache of the wound was starting to set in.

You turned your head back to him, assessing the damage finally and sighing.

"You should let me help with that," you told him softly. He nodded quietly, both of you now moving and separating from each other. Killing two birds with one stone, you decided a shower for the pair of you was the best idea, and so you both removed the remaining clothes you had on and stepped under the hot water together.

In a comfortable silence, you washed the blood and paints from his face, dabbing at the wounds while he took care of washing you too. You felt the stark contrast between the way he'd taken you earlier and the tenderness of this moment; in their own ways both made you feel wanted, loved, needed.

"Copia..." you whispered to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and stepping into him. "You know I'm yours, don't you?"

You hoped he really did, part of you was terrified he doubted your loyalty to him in any way at all.

"Of course, amore mio... And I'm yours," he told you, wrapping his arms around you too and enjoying the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. "Perdonami, I fear I was too rough, eh?" he chuckled insecurely.

"Not at all... I can't pretend it wasn't hot as hell to see a side of you so angry at the idea of me being with anyone else..." you smirked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, just above his '666' mark.

"That stronzo... I can't believe you dated that fucker," he scoffed, pushing your wet hair from your forehead.

"A past life, my love. I was under a spell back then..." you sighed. He hummed in thought.

"And now, you're under mine..." he smirked. You giggled happily as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a far sweeter, tender kiss.

[jooba]

wolfman x reader

"Imagine getting the great news that you're one of a million civilians chosen to go to a distant planet, to intermingle with the local aliens. Unfortunately, your online friend doesn't exactly seem to like that idea."

TW: MDNI, reader referred to as 'girl', sexual desires, anxiety, neurodivergent reader, reader big dumb, licking, 'virgin' reader, hand appreciation

wordcount: 2,388

Three words: Civilian Space Program. The most incredible opportunity of a lifetime (for an average Joe like you).

One word: Congratulations! The letter you held in your shaking hands almost didn’t seem real. It was glossy, professional, and signed by someone so important that it was a 100% probability that you would never breathe the same air as them. Congratulations! But it was real, and your life would never be the same. You were going to space. To meet aliens. Your poor little heart almost couldn’t take it. Breath labored, you quickly snapped a picture of the letter before posting it to all of your socials. Quickly, friends and family bombarded you with questions and excitement, just as in disbelief as you are. Several phone calls later, and plenty of assurances to those with concerns, you fell back onto your couch, still clutching the letter. In just a month, you would be boarding a vessel with 14 other civilians, shipped off to the planet Geron 6GI, and left there for 3 years to “create relations” and “cultivate a human lifestyle”. Whatever that means. All you knew was that you… were a monsterfucker… and… well… aliens are sort of like monsters too. 

In your elation, you nearly missed the newest comment on your Instagram post. It was Peter, an online friend whom you had known for years. It simply said, “call me.” Peter knew about the program and how badly you wanted to be in it, but he was pretty adamant that your chances were too low. Smiling, you dialed his number. He answered on the first ring, speaking before you had a chance to.

“This is serious? You’re serious?” 

“Of course! I’m freaking out, Peter. I’m going to SPACE. I’m going to fuck so many aliens, you don't even know. Well, you do know, but-”

“You’re leaving in a month?” He asked. You kicked your legs in glee, squealing. 

“Yep! 3 years in space and depending on how the program goes it might go on for longer. God, should I bring my toys? Do you think they’ll even be allowed on the flight? But what if the aliens have toys that I can buy…” Your breath hitched just at the thought. There was silence on his end for a few moments.

“You’re a virgin.” Cheeks turning red, you scoffed into your phone.

“So what?” 

“So you’re giving yourself away to some random alien?” He hissed the word lowly, talking in a manner you had never heard from him before. You take a second to collect your thoughts, not understanding where his aggression is coming from.

“Peter… we live in the 21st century. Virginity is a stupid construct. Besides, I uh... I’m not really a virgin, you know.” 

“What?” 

“Ugh, can we not talk about this? So embarrassing…” You mumble, turning to a more comfortable position on the couch. There was silence as both of you struggled with what to say next. It wasn’t like you were actually embarrassed talking about sexual things, but Peter had a way of making your stomach flutter. It was awful having a mini crush on someone online, and even worse when he insisted on hearing all the details of your life. All the details. 

“I’m going to come see you.” He said, sighing into the phone. You froze, blinking in surprise. The two of you had never met in real life before, you’ve never even seen a picture of him! Sometimes, you would discuss meeting, but he lived a long flight away and schedules never seemed to work out. Over time, the thought of seeing him in person became too daunting, and you always shot him down. What if he thought you were too ugly to be friends with? What if the two of you couldn’t get along in person, and he lost interest? 

“A-are you sure, Peter?” You could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. 

“Of course.”

You stood nervously in the airport, shifting back and forth. People kept glancing at you, giving you curious glances. Avoiding eyes with an old troll whose beard desperately needed maintenance, you wiped the sweat from your face with your sleeve. Maybe you’d be less nervous if you had brought a friend with you to pick up Peter… Your phone buzzed with a text. 

landing now

You watch as the terminal quickly fills up with tired travelers. Eyes swiping back and forth from person to person, you attempt to pick out a man to match Peter’s description of himself. But his description was so vague, all you really knew was that apparently he was tall and had brown hair. 

Someone bumps into you, and your phone clatters to the ground. They quickly apologize but scurry away too quickly for you to get a good look at them. Grumbling, you bend down to pick up your phone, dusting it off and checking for cracks. When your eyes lift, your heart explodes in surprise at the wolfman standing before you. Hot! Inner you squeals. Standing nearly two heads taller than you, he’s lean and dressed very cleanly. Chestnut-colored fur streaks around his cheeks and neck, speckled with darker colors around his hairline and dipping underneath his shirt. Black eyes peer at you, squinting slightly.

“Oh, um. Hi!” You laugh nervously, tugging at your hair. “Just dropped my phone.” You wave your phone in front of you, but then quickly tuck it away when you realize how dumb you probably looked. The wolfman’s mouth slowly curls up into a predatory smile, top lip slightly gaped to allow for pointy fangs to peek through. 

“You’re cute,” he says quietly, eyes appraising your figure. You have to desperately ignore the urge to cover yourself from his evaluating gaze. You laugh weakly.

“T-thanks.” You give him a small smile. The two of you stare at each other for a moment. He hikes his backpack up over his shoulders, raising one eyebrow at you. Does he want something from you…? Oh god. Despite his good looks, it’s not the best time to be flirting with someone: not when you’re waiting for Peter. 

“I’m sorry. I’m.. uh… picking up a friend. Sorry.” You glance away from him, pretending to search the crowd for Peter. Why is he taking so long?

The wolfman grumbles with quiet laughter, almost a mixture of a purr and low-pitched whine. It's a rather charming sound. Suddenly, his clawed hand is on your scalp, rubbing against your hair to mess it up. He tugs certain strands this way and that, causing an absolute mess. You gasp, pulling away, quickly attempting to fix the mess he just made. 

“You’re even denser in person than I thought you would be,” he says, looking extremely satisfied at your misery. His ears twitch slightly. You pause, squinting up at him in irritation.

“Well, that’s rude. And please don’t touch my hair, I don’t know you.” You take a step back away from him in caution just to be safe. 

The wolfman huffs, rolling his eyes slowly. “That’s the thing. You do know me.” He pulls his phone out, and types onto it quickly, before looking at you expectantly. Your phone buzzes. A message from Peter. 

right in front of you. so dense.

You can’t quiet the gasp that leaves your mouth in time. You gape up at him, astonished.

“You never told me you were a wolfman!?!” 

Heart racing, you bring your knuckle up to your mouth and light chew on a finger. All these years, all the calls and long talks and he never thought to mention his species?! Oh god, you have said so many embarrassing things to him: things you would never say to a non-human. Things about giant monster cocks and clawed hands and fluffy sensitive ears and oh my GOD. You swear heat is steaming out of your ears with how embarrassed you are. 

“Didn’t think it mattered,” he shrugs. He reaches up to lightly scratch at one fluffy ear, maintaining eye contact with you. It twitches at his touch, apparently sensitive. You want to coo and squeal at how cute it is, but you restrain, just barely. Gnawing on your finger, you avert your eyes. You must not look at the handsome wolfman. Must resist. Must get Peter home without drowning in your drool…

One car ride home, hours of gentle ribbing and teasing, a desperate call to the nearest fast food joint, and a change into pajamas later, you find yourself sitting on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in hand, waiting patiently for Peter to join you. He’s taking a long time in the bathroom, but you’re not too worried. It seemed your apartment was a bit too small for him, and he was constantly ducking his head and squeezing past your furniture. Admittedly, it was really charming. You can’t help but shovel popcorn into your face as you wait. You can’t wait too long, otherwise the popcorn will get stale! In the middle of licking your fingers free from butter and salt, Peter plops down next to you. You slide down the couch and end up sitting right against you. He wraps an arm around you on the couch, hands already playing with your hair. He’s dressed in loose pajama pants and a t-shirt that says ‘You are fang-tastic!’ in faded letters.

“Really couldn’t wait for me, huh.” You smile in embarrassment, pulling your fingers out of your mouth. His dark eyes quickly zero in on your glistening fingers. Grimacing, you go to wipe them on your pants, but his hand wraps around your wrist before you can. You immediately notice how much bigger his hand is than yours, and how fur wraps around his knuckles but his fingers and palm are bare. 

“Let me,” he purrs, eyes drooping into half lids. He opens his mouth and a long, pink tongue rolls out. It’s rounded at the end and fades into a slight purple the further back it gets. You’re instantly drawn to it and watch in stunned silence as he brings your fingers up to his mouth. He licks a long stripe up your fingers before twisting and turning them to lap at every inch. Quickly, your fingers become drenched in hot saliva. You clench your thighs, wishing he would put that tongue somewhere else… A soft noise leaves you, and he meets your eyes again. You mentally berate yourself for having dirty thoughts about your friend. He nips gently at your pointer finger. You squeak and pull your hand away, face certainly red. You hold your hand to your chest limply, now drenched in saliva. You blink at him, words caught in your throat.

“Mmm… tastes good.” Right. Good popcorn. Ha ha… ha… The TV blares and the two of you startle at the noise. Peter is quick to grab the remote and mute it. He watches the quiet television for a moment, throat bobbing.

“Let’s talk for a moment, space girl.” His voice is almost... uncertain. You grin unabashedly at the nickname, pleased. It immediately calms you down and you find yourself relaxing.

“Sure!” You place the popcorn down and turn on the couch, facing him directly. He turns to face you as well, one leg crossing over the other. The arm around the back of the couch begins to tap on the cushion.

“Just let me talk for a moment, no interruptions, okay?” He raises an eyebrow when you open your mouth to respond, and you huff, but stay quiet.

“Honestly, I thought I was being pretty straightforward with you all this time, but with this space fiasco, I knew you weren’t exactly getting the message. Had to talk to you face-to-face. I’ll make this short and sweet, easy to understand. I don’t want you going to space.” He raises one hand when you look like you are about to object. Breathing deeply, he continues.

“Don’t go to space. Stay here. I’ll give you all the monster cock you want, promise… I’m not usually one to wait so long, but I knew during our first call I would have to take it slow with you. I’ve been biding my time all these years, slowly getting to know you, waiting for my chance. And then I saw your post. When I saw that, it left me ‘peterified’.” He chuffs at his joke, pleased. 

“So yeah, I’ve got feelings for you. And a lot of them revolve around ramming my cock down your throat. Or god, knotting you,” he sighs wistfully as he speaks. He looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. 

.

.

.

Ho….ly…. SHIT! You’re frozen on the spot, mind racing with a thousand dirty thoughts. You’ve dreamt of this moment, dreamt of a monster desiring you. And now…now you’re presented with an opportunity. 

“F-forget space! Oh my god. Peter? Peter!” You’re squealing now, your body shaking with excitement. You stand up and begin pacing, not even really aware of what you’re doing. Peter relaxes on the couch, mouth tilted up in a sly smile.

“This is crazy. Are you serious? He’s serious. I-I need to shave! And prep! Oh god, I don’t know if I’m ready for this…” You bite at your finger nervously, the beginnings of nausea twisting your stomach. Who knew that aching and wanting something for so long would have you feeling so sick?

Peter tugs at your hand, slowing your pacing. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, you nut. Just breathe.” He breathes in deeply, and you copy him instinctually. He guides your breath into something much slower, much more manageable. You smile at him gratefully, falling onto the couch. 

“Sorry, this is just… a lot,” you sigh out. He shakes his head. 

“Not at all. Just take it easy.” He nudges your knee with his. “Just think about it, yeah?” You nudge him back, eyes twinkling.

“So, all this time you’ve…” you question. He simply nods his head.

“But you didn’t even know what I looked like?” You're surprised when his face starts to turn a gentle shade of red. He coughs into his fist, looking away. He speaks, in a cool tone that doesn’t match his cheeks, “Yeah, I knew right from the start. Your looks are just a plus.” 

Aaand now you’re looking away, embarrassed. 

“Oh, okay,” you mumble. 

[yaeggravate]

could capitano be anfortas alberich?

it's more likely than you think 👍🏽✨️

arguments in favor of anfortas = capitano:

capitano's potential constellation could be the three nails which is a reference to jesus' crucifixion. i honestly can't picture this constellation belonging to any other harbinger unless sandrone's ruin guard is carrying some heavy bagage.

anfortas is named after the fisher/sinner king from arthurian legend, he is usually portrayed as a jesus-like figure in more modern adaptations, due to his never-ending suffering. he was also stabbed with the holy spear in the same side as jesus during his crucifixion.

in the poem the waste land by t.s. eliot, he associates the fisher king with the tarot card the three staves. in some tarot decks (most notably thoth which is pictured below), the three staves are positioned exactly like the three nails

anfortas' fate is currently unknown, as he is khaenri'ahn it's not unreasonable to assume he could've survived for 500 years

his relative kaeya was conveniently present when varka's letter about capitano was being read in an event about lost family members

according to varka, capitano hides his face so no one can know his identity and origins. anfortas was part of the schwanenritter which is a reference to the swan knight legend, where the knight had to conceal his identity, name and origins

varka says capitano is an ordinary mortal with the courage to go up against gods which is basically khaenri'ah's motto

capitano's helmet has a makeshift 8-pointed star on it which is usually associated with khaenri'ah (tbf 8-pointed stars can also be found in other places, such as the adventurer's guild, the hexenzirkel and now natlan.)

capitano has blue eyes and so far every khaenri'ahn character we've met has blue-ish eyes with the exception of arlecchino who is descended from the crimson moon clan

anfortas and capitano are both commanders: anfortas was the knight marshal of the schwanenritter (and temporarily became regent of khaenri'ah), capitano is thee captain, the highest ranked harbinger

anfortas' personality is unclear so we can't really compare it to capitano's. BUT what we do know is that he temporarily filled in as regent when irmin was unavailable. he also executed his own comrade after they committed treason by sabotaging a machine yet he still gave them a proper knight's funeral. this could allign with the absolute righteousness and honor capitano is known for

capitano is highly praised and respected within the fatui and the same can be said for anfortas who was close enough to the king that he could petition him and whose subordinates believed in him until the end

An Abandoned Letter... I often think lately about how future generations will tell my story. Will I be a sinner? Or a hero... The situation here is dire, but I believe that our Marshal will find a way. I believe...

the author of this letter wondering if they'll be seen as sinners or heroes and believing anfortas will save them fits pretty well with the three nails constellation, a symbol of salvation and redemption

(there's some interesting irony in anfortas' name meaning infirmity (weakness/illness), which is the opposite of capitano being a strong man. capitano's commedia dell'arte counterpart was a braggart who only boasted about his strength.)

capitano is now in natlan. for some reason, kaeya's hidden strife letters are filled with fire imagery. kaeya's dad says the alberich clan "should lead lives as those who blaze like fire rather than those who wallow in the embers", which is reminiscent of the "secret" the pyro archon shares/will share with the traveler according to the travail trailer: "the rules of war are woven in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash."

*update: natlan is right next to one of anfortas' ruin golems and in a new world quest we find out there were two khaenri'ahn knights in natlan who were ordered by someone highly respected to stop the abyss from spreading. based on context clues their superior is likely anfortas. perhaps anfortas also ended up in natlan and something happened to him there

**update: the schwanenritter were most likely part of the black serpent knights, khaenri'ah's royal guard, since one of the schwanenritter used the same model as a black serpent windcutter. isn't it convenient then that capitano is dressed as a black serpent with those black scales and visor in the triangular shape of a snake's head?

arguments against the theory:

anfortas lost his left eye, while capitano is said to have dark blue eyes plural. however, it's unclear if anfortas literally lost his left eye or was merely blinded. he could have also grown back the eye cause idk khaenri'ah genes/abyss goo/bald

three harbingers from khaenri'ah seems a bit overkill. (though you could argue we already have three harbingers from snezhnaya: childe, pulcinella and pantalone.) we don't have any harbingers from natlan (or liyue), and currently capitano seems like the most likely option. however, knowing hyv's colorism, it could be columbina instead. according to the harbinger wheel columbina should be arriving after arlecchino, although we haven't seen her in any of the trailers yet. (all hope for brown-skinned capitano is not lost if he's related to kaeya though!)

since anfortas is the "fisher" king and ended up with one eye, he could be kaeya's "pirate" grandpa or even his dad and i'm not too confident hyv is gonna imply capitano had a lover with kids unless he gets signora'd lol. on the other hand, arthurian anfortas was famously saved by his nephew, which could mean our anfortas is kaeya's uncle.

***update: capitano can use nightsoul which is exclusive to people from natlan. however, the traveler can also use phlogiston (though no word on nightsoul yet) and mavuika senses an "unusual presence" inside cap which could explain his powers

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage Show pt.4

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.5k

synopsis. hobie needs a subject for his next album cover and he decides that he wants it to be you but things quickly devolve into obscenity.

or

hobie takes pictures while fucking you

🍒・．❕warnings. voyeurism, taking pictures during sex, cunnilingus, Hobie's kinda conflicted with his emotions, clothed sex, praise, spitting, hand riding, hobie has a bit of a god/ superiority complex, y/n is a groupie who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, really toxic in here, angst towards the end.

Backstage Show Pt. 3

I want you to be on the new album cover

Hobie texted you for the first time in three days and you’ve suddenly come back to life. The days when he didn’t text you seemed to be the bleakest and most boring, those when he did proved to be the best for your psyche, and that special little text when he’d tell you to come meet him somewhere because he needs you was a feeling wholly otherworldly. You needed him like a junkie needed a hit to feel functional. You had withdrawal symptoms without him. And maybe he knew that and that’s why he kept you on the hook for so long. 

Hobie was not dumb. He knew the effect he had on you, knew exactly in which ways to take advantage of your devotion to make sure you remain entirely obsessed with him. Because he could not bear to lose you because you finally realized that he wasn't worth all of your time.

Either way. He wanted you on the album cover. He wanted you of all people on the album cover. You felt as though your heart could simply combust out of your chest and go to confess its undying love to him. He wanted you on the album cover of anyone in the world.

Then he texted again before you got the chance to respond.

I’m coming. 5 mins away.

5 minutes gave you very little time to get ready. You lept out of bed and began rummaging through your closet for something nice to wear. You eventually found a nice, silken slip to wear with a leather jacket Hobie had given you (anything Hobie gave you became your most prized possession) and some boots to match. It was oddly innocent, like a delicate girl in her innocent dress wearing her boyfriend's clothes. The only difference was you were not a delicate girl and Hobie was not your boyfriend.

Hobie was already at your door in what seemed like seconds after his texts. Had you spent that much time choosing an outfit? You hadn’t had any time to do your makeup.

“One sec!” You called out once he began knocking a little harder. “Ion give a damn wha’cha look like, woman. Jus’ lemme in!” He called back and reluctantly you went and opened the door for him. He’s never seen you without makeup on. Sure, he’s seen it streak down your face in tears after he was done fucking you but never completely barefaced.

You opened the door to find him leaning against the frame waiting on you. He was on his phone, then he wasn't, turning it off and tucking it away upon seeing you standing before him.

His pretty eyes scanned over your outfit and nodded in approval, reaching out to slip his hands beneath your jacket to place his hands on your silk-adorned hips. “I like it. Perfect. Don’ worry ‘bout the makeup ‘n all tha’. You won’ need it for the photoshoot. Your face won't be on the cover.” You hadn’t known you were doing it today but you should have. Hobie was the sporadic type like that, getting ideas in the moment and wanting to run with it then and there without any prior planning. That was him and you were along for the ride.

That’s when you noticed the camera hanging off his side. A little less than professional grade but still a great quality camera. 

“We’re doing it here?” You ask, moving to the side as he made his way in. You closed the door behind him, beginning to remove your shoes since you wouldn’t be needing them. Hobie looked around your flat, surprised by how neat it was despite your wild interests. But neat did not mean boring. It wasn’t plain by any means, just more organized than his. “Yeah, though’ you’d be more comfortable here.”

It was considerate of him and you felt your heart swoon at it. You bit your lip to contain a smile as you slipped off your jacket and tossed it onto the couch. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I want to do it on your bed.”

It caught you off guard. He’s straightforward but not usually that straightforward. “Huh?” 

“The photoshoot, luv. I wanna do it on your bed.” Hobie chuckled, tossing an arm over your shoulders to pull you in as he began walking towards your bedroom. He knew the layout of your flat well enough from all the times spent carrying you to your bed between kisses and the removal of clothes.

You went and sat on your bed while Hobie prepared the camera. “I want something sweet and sexy. I like the slip, it looks innocent.” He comes over with his camera in one and and his other free to pose you as he pleased.

He began with simple poses, you lying on your bed with one of the straps falling down your shoulder in a seductive kind of way. Hobie knelt above you, taking pictures from above before dragging you up to sit with your legs in a w-shape and your hands between your knees.

“So pretty, baby.” Hobie murmured as you did your own thing, each pose captured by his camera for later review over which would be best. He’d keep your face out of the cover, just to protect your identity. He was a bit of a dickhead but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He wasn’t out to ruin your life.

Hobie stood at the foot of your bed. “Come’ere.” He motioned you over and without hesitation, you came to him and sat in front of him. His hand caressed your face, fingers sliding across your cheek before using his thumb  to brush along your southern lip. You offered no resistance as he pushed his thumb into your hot, wet mouth and snapped a picture of it.

“You eva though’ ‘bout me fuckin’ you, takin’ pictures wit’ that polaroid of yours? Imagine how good we’d look wit’ a camera like this one.” He pushed his thumb further and you opened your throat to let him push against it. You nodded slowly, looking up at him through hooded lids, drunk on arousal. You kept glancing at the growing tent in his pants, his bulge pressing against the restriction of his jeans. You needed him badly.

He snapped more pictures of you, pulling his thumb from your pretty, saliva-glossed lips. He took pictures as he pushed your face into the bulge of his pants and made you worship it, worship him. 

"Lemme see tha' pretty cunt of yours." Hobie eased you back, made you open your legs to reveal the wet patch on the panties you wore just for him, that matched the creamy, white silk or your slip. He aimed the camera at you as you pulled the off and tossed them away, taking pictures of your glistening arousal before placing the camera on the bed and kneeling down between the heaven of your legs.

Her had your knees hinged over his shoulder, his large hands gripping the chaste flesh of your thighs as he pulled you close and spat on your pussy. Hobie looked at your cunt as if he were in love, with a gaze so intense you could practically feel the heat.

Fingers spread the glob of spit across your clit and down to the entrance that was more than ready for him. He looked up at you in the eyes at he licked into your pussy, his broad nose nudging your clit enough to make you shudder.

Hobie feasted upon you, all tongue and wet fingers pushing in and out of your greedy pussy, switching places from time to time because a pussy like this deserved all the praise and appreciation in the world. His tongue caresses your clit only to be replaced by the rough pads of fingers pinching and stroking a second later.

He had you on cloud nine and only he could. Your fingers wrung the sheets of your bed in a grip so hard you thought you might tear them. Then your hands were in the wilderness of his hair, grasping at his wicks and holding his head to you so that he might never stop.

Through a bleary-eyed gaze your eyes managed to land upon the camera sitting idle beside you and in a moment, you grabbed it and began taking pictures of Hobie. The shutter of the camera caught his attention as he paused and looked up to see your face covered by the lense of his camera.

"Don' stop," you told him breathlessly. "Keep going, you look so pretty, Hobes." You snapped another picture of him.

"I look pretty? Babe, you should see my view." He used the tip of his tongue to tease between your folds. He maintained eye contact with you through the lense, letting you give him his moment to shine as kitten licked your swollen clit and murmured obscenities into your core. 

Your back arched, your pussy pulsated, muscles spasmed with the threat of your orgasm. He had you singing his name, your finger weighing on the button until shutter after shutter of the lense taking rapid photos of your descent into madness.

Hobie took the camera from your hands before reaching to release himself from the confines of his pants. He needed you. He needed you like he needed food, water, air.

He let you cum on his tongue, took everything you had to give and more. He ate until your pussy spasmed and you began to push his head away. "Hobie, Hobes please." He just couldn't help himself. He could taste the slight twinge of sweetness from all the fruit you've been eating recently and he's enamored with it. He could do this all day if not for the hard-on he had aching between his legs.

Hobie stood up and pulled you further up onto his bed to make more room for himself. He rolled you over onto your stomach and grabbed a pillow to place your hips upon. He made sure the camera was within reach before pulling his pants down a little further and stroking his cock in his hand.

He pressed the length of it against your ass smearing precum against your slip without a care. You shivered beneath him, anticipating the moment when he'd push himself into you. Not slow or gentle, but swiftly with the speed of someone who's desperate for something.

You pushed yourself towards him as he tapped his length against your ass, revealing where you needed him the very most. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, asking so politely to be filled up and taken advantage of. You enticed him into pressed the thick head of his dick against your hole and push in with one solid motion that left you gasping for air and whining his name.

He had his hands on you, pressing you into the mattress as he drew his hips back with his tip just barely still inside before driving himself back inside you.

He fucked you like he's been waiting for this, like you were the one who left him on delivered last time you spoke. It was fast, rough, but gentle where he needed to be. His hands traced the slopes of your body as you moaned beneath him and trembled under his touch.

Oh— the things you let him do to you, the way you let him take pictures of him defiling you and never raised a single protest. The way he took advantage of you loyalty and earnesty, your undying love for him. He made you feel so good with his cock touching places you would have never known without him.

Hobie whispered in your ear how good you felt, how he's gonna cum on your pussy just because he knows you'll let him.

The sound of your creamy cunt getting fucked and your moans mingled in some sort of lewd symphony. The bedframe slammed into the wall over and over again, your mind was hazy with a second orgasm waiting to happen.

Hobie fucked you like a dog in rut, with the primal want of an animal with not much more on his mind beyond "fuck". On his lips, he sang a beautiful melody of moans. He could no longer focus on taking pictures, his hands were grasping at you like a wild animal attempting to maul you. 

The way he moaned was like hearing heaven, like hearing his truly sing for the first time. It was rough, feral, sensual, it matched his hands with their desperation. He was reduced down to a man with a need.

His hands pinned your wrists to the bed as he leaned over you. His hips snapped, skin meeting skin in a harsh, sticky clap. Sweat layered your bodies in a thin film over your skin.

"Ngh— ah~ Hobie, please. Right…there. Just like that." You were crying out from him, writhing beneath his touch. He fucked you nice and hard and kept you dumb and agreeable. You drooled into your bed, squeezing your eyes shut as you concentrate on the feeling of a second orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach.

"You gonna make me cum, pretty girl. You wan' me to cum on ya pussy. Take pictures of it and put it on ma album." Hobie hummed into your ear, glancing between your fucked out face and the way his cock slid between your nether lips and sheathed itself into your hole.

His abdomen curled and tightened with the sheer weight of his orgasm as the pace of his hips became more and more erratic. And oh, those pretty moans became something far more feral than just singing. He was losing himself inside you and he had half the mind to pull out before he came, cum coating your ass in dribbles of white spats that crest the round of your ass and pooled at the dip of your spine.

Hobie grabbed his camera and captured a few photos before he realized something. "Aw, babe. Did I ruin ya second orgasm?" He had left you high and dry without even thinking about it.

You nodded timidly, not wanting to inconvenience him with your own pleasure. You had already had an orgasm and you shouldn't be entitled to a second one but Hobie seemed intent on finishing you out, finished what he started.

"Come'ere, luv." Hobie turned off his camera and set it aside before motioning you over. You crawled over to where he sat on your bed and let him pull you into his lap facing him with your knees on either side of his waist.

"Can' leave ma girl hangin', can I?" He wiped up some of the cum off your ass with his fingers and slid the two messy digits between your soaked folds. You shuddered, wrapping your arms over his shoulder and around his neck as you stared at those pretty eyes of his.

He pushed his cum-slicked fingers into your greedy cunt that let him in without even an ounce of resistance, palming at your clit that aches for him with the heel of his hand.

Hobie's lips were on yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his tongue met yours. "Go 'head and take wha'cha need." He offered up his hand for you to use as your own person sex toy. Those long fingers of his caressing your walls while his hand rubbed your clit.

You braced your hands on his shoulders for leverage before rocking your hips against his hand. Grinding, bouncing, rocking, fucking those fingers of his like no tomorrow.

Hobie watched you lull your head back with pleasure. You rocked your hips with a fluidity he finds himself hypnotized with. Your slip hid just enough to make the action all the more lewd, like something forbidden. You were gorgeous when you were about to cum, gorgeous all the time.

If he wasn’t so fucked up, he might just fall in love with you. He might actually be in love with you. But he’s too afraid that they’re finally going to figure out he wasn’t worth all your time and leave him. 

Hobie kissed you again, deeper this time, softer, with a sort of tenderness he’s never kissed you with before. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you fall even harder for him. You couldn’t bear the thought of living your life without him. You can’t even remember what your life was like before you fist got fucked by him. He left your mind in a dizzy.

You’ll bask in this moment because you can’t be sure when he’ll get bored of you, when one text will be his last and he simply ghosts you. It’s not an outlandish possibility.

“‘M gonna cum.” You murmured against his lips in a daze. “‘M gonna cum, Hobie.” He could feel it, the way your walls rippled and clamped around his fingers. You were so close, so high on him. Your orgasm washed over you easily, like the caress of his hand against your back or a wave washing up on a beach. It rippled through your muscles and left you feeling warm and airy. 

“You did so good, ma pretty girl. You feel good?”

You nodded, whimpering as he slipped his fingers from your hole and grabbed your hips to lift you up. “Where ya rags at? I need to clean ya up.” He set you down on the bed beside him and stood up to clean you up. You looked up at him, twiddling your thumbs like an idiot. “We could just take a shower.”

“If you want to. I’ll be waiting out here.” Hobie adjusted himself, fixing himself up and tucking himself away.  He was completely clueless, not a care in the world nor a clue for the embarrassment of the person sitting on their bed trying to get him to shower with them.

“I meant the two of us…together.” 

“Oh—” He paused for a moment, thinking, considering it. “I don’ know, luv. If I go in wit’ ya, I might no’ be able to keep ma hands to maself.” The disappointment set in quickly. You pursed your lips softly, embarrassed that you even asked. Suddenly there was a world of difference between the two of you. Distance placed between the two of you set by Hobie because he didn’t want you getting to familiar. He couldn’t risk attachment but he knew deep down that it was already too late. He liked you. He liked you a lot. In another world, he’d be in love with you. But love just wasn’t for him. 

“I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

You grabbed your things and made your way into the bathroom, closing the door swiftly before slapping yourself in the head. You felt like a bit of an idiot. Of course, he wouldn’t want to shower with you. The two of you were nothing but fuck buddies. Hobie made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything more than to hang out and get his dick wet from time to time.

By the time you got out of the shower, Hobie was in the living room, lounging on your couch while reviewing the pictures the two of you had taken. He was smiling that effortlessly gorgeous smile of his. “Come look at this shit. You look amazin’, luv.” He motioned you over and transfixed by how suddenly he pulled you back in, you came and sat down beside him to look at the pictures taken.

You did look good. You looked sexy, so did Hobie, in the multiple pictures you took of him eating you out. But you were so embarrassed by the obscene nature of the photos that you covered the screen and looked at Hobie. “You’re not gonna use any of these as the cover, are you?”

Hobie shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Why? I think we look great.” You slapped his shoulder and he chuckled in response. “I’m jus’ pullin’ ya leg, baby. These pictures are jus’ fa me.” He cupped your face in one of his hands and kissed you with his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips. It was an apology. He knew that he had hurt you earlier by refusing you but he’d never apologize for it verbally.

Maybe one day, you could get him to feel for you the same way you feel for him.

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 4

Summary: Tav isn't sure how honest she can be with Astarion when any form of genuine emotion startles him into running away from her while he tries to figure out what more they can share beyond sex.

There will be a part 5. Astarion needs to learn to handle this new situation.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.5k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

They walked on a knife’s edge. It remained clear as day to her even if Astarion held the title of least forthcoming person in the world. A minor miracle given she spent so much time of her time trying to work out what Shadowheart’s situation entailed.

But Astarion trusted her with almost nothing and she didn’t have any certainty it would change.

She accepted it. The only problem she found dogging her was she understood almost nothing about what he wanted.

His teasing was obvious; honey words with so much falsity, they could drown her if she let them. She may have accepted his offers to spend the night tangled together had it not been for his expressions. His heart wasn’t in it and so she thought that too came of lies and mere fun.

So, she turned him down with just as much laughter.

Wyll warned her about it before she realised for herself. He commented while they shared a drink and she waxed her usual poetry about Astarion’s eyes.

“You must be careful,” Wyll said. “I’ve known plenty of men like him and they hide their emotions well but it makes it no less real. He’s going to think you’re not interested in him anymore.”

“But after what happened the first time, he’s the one who didn’t have fun.”

“Doesn’t matter. In his mind, you slept together once and just became what? Flirtatious friends? Without any definition, he’s going to think you didn’t enjoy it or presume you found a replacement.”

“Oh, that’s not what the problem was and you know it.”

“I do but he doesn’t.”

She pouted over her wine.

The night had been memorable for sure: his words sweet and his technique perfect but something ripped her away from it. As good as he was, nothing felt real. He moved with practised ease, forgoing any playful teases or comments she expected and replaced them all with generic compliments about her body.

When his teeth sunk into her neck, sharp and icy as they had been the first time, she’d seen a little more of him. He slowed down, stopped overwhelming her with sensation, and just existed. But when he’d moved away and she moaned his name softly, it sent him spiralling straight back into the act again and the compliments returned to lines from a script.

But she wasn’t exactly about to go and tell him she didn’t have fun. It would be a lie either way. She just saw no reason to rush into it once more.

Not until she understood him a little better.

“Can you imagine what he’d say if I brought something like this up? The thought of it alone provides enough anxiety to keep me quiet.”

Wyll chuckled. “I’ll tell Karlach for you. I’m sure she’ll happily proclaim the situation to the entire camp and the next city over.”

She rolled her eyes and drank from her goblet. “Don’t you dare.”

Without any events like the party though, she saw no opportunity to bring the problem back up and instead just returned his flirtations in kind. It worried her but she could find it in herself to break their little game with a topic as sensitive as emotions. Those were some of Astarion’s least favourite things.

Yet Wyll’s prediction appeared doomed to fruition and late one evening after she retired to her tent, she found herself wholly unable to sleep thanks to incessant whispering.

Not from her own mind (thank the gods) but from the only other tent close enough to hear into.

“I know vampires have no need of rest,” she said after skulking over, arms crossed over her chest. “But if that infernal book doesn’t keep quiet, it will likely drive me to madness.”

Astarion’s eyes darted up to her, smiling over the top as though he had no realisation of what he’d been doing. She adored the way the torchlight flickered over his skin and humiliated herself with how quickly irritation waned under his gaze.

“My apologies,” he hummed. “I’m so close to uncovering its secrets. I couldn’t bear to put it down yet.”

Sometimes, she wondered if she made the right decision handing the book to him instead of Gale. Though the wizard may have consumed the weave within, she likely would worry a little less.

“What are you hoping to gain from reading it?”

He traced the outside cover thoughtfully. “Books like this always hold power. With how well-guarded this one is, I can’t imagine what secrets it contains.”

“Seems dangerous.”

“Aren’t we all?”

He tucked the book back into a chest in his tent and lounged backwards on his bedroll, gesturing for her to join him. She did, sitting close but not quite touching, cross-legged instead of sprawled over the ground as she did when she invited him to stargaze with her.

If she had been more awake, she’d probably worry about accidentally upsetting him in any way. His voice soothed her usually but now it only put her on edge.

The perfect smile, composed through masterful talent and designed to make her happy, graced his lips. She knew she likely fell for his falsities more often than she thought but he wouldn’t catch her now.

She sat up straighter and waited, allowing him to speak first.

Eventually he did with a dramatic gesture. “I’ve finally figured you out and I must say, you surprised me. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you?”

He laughed but she didn’t join. “Normally, I’m incredibly good at sensing when people have, shall we say, other interests, but you managed to keep it quiet for longer than I thought possible.”

“I’m not sure if it’s the sleep deprivation but I really need a better explanation.”

He sighed, put out by her naiveness perhaps. “I overheard a comment from our resident cleric and I learned why our late-night trysts have come to an end. A pity. They were the one thing I looked forward to with perpetual doom looming.”

Her blood ran cold and she sat up a little straighter. “What?”

Astarion smiled as though they were merely friends gossiping about her newest fling. “Don’t worry, I’m happy for you, you know. What we had was a great deal of fun but that’s really all it was. I think it’ll be good for you to find your footing with something a little more permanent.”

Unsure if she was still half-asleep or not, she shook her head to try and understand. “Was that all I was to you?” she asked. “Fun?”

“Oh no, not at all. I mean, you were a lot of fun, but I understand even the best entertainment can get boring when you find somebody else.”

“Who else could I be sleeping with?”

“I don’t know if it’s gone that far,” he said with a chuckle. “Wyll’s rather stuck in the past, in more ways than one. He seems the type to really hold himself to a standard for the first time.”

Wyll? She glanced towards his tent on instinct, confused by the comment. The Blade of Frontiers certainly got along brilliantly with her; they’d made fast friends between shared stories but she held as much physical attraction to him as she did towards any of the others.

Though admittedly he hadn’t offered to taste her sweat yet so that gave him a small edge over certain friends.

“Astarion,” she said, making sure she didn’t falter when he answered her with the cutest hum. “I’m not doing anything with Wyll. He’s my friend but nothing more and even if you were right… I don’t think there’s anybody I would choose over you.”

“What? Why?”

“You must be blind if you’ve missed how I look at you.”

“I mean, obviously I’ve noticed your interest. If you didn’t like me, it would say everything about your taste but we had our fun. I really don’t mind so long as I can keep all those delicious memories of the time we spent together.”

“I mind dating Wyll though?”

“Really? He’s handsome enough for a fiend, don’t you think? And he certain suits your whole hero complex.”

“Hero complex?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t take it personally, darling. Everybody loves your whole commitment to doing good deeds and I’ve almost developed an immunity to it. Almost. Regardless, Wyll suits you awfully well. Your future could be written into the history books, legends of saving poor, innocent puppies and then, when you get bored of your domestic life… well, I’ll definitely never oppose a quick, dirty affair.”

Her mouth tasted bitter at the idea.

“Well, you can imagine your fantasy however you want but I’m not going to be sharing anything more than a bottle of wine with Wyll.”

He appeared genuinely irritated at her insistence. She’d noticed his habit of baring his fangs when something annoyed him, often wanting to gently touch them. Why did this matter so much at him?

“Oh,” he finally said. “Glad to have cleared it up. You may want to tell Shadowheart before she blurts it to the entire Sword Coast.”

Shadowheart likely said nothing of the sort. None of her companions missed the small flame she held for Astarion.

None except him, it would seem.

“Are you upset because we haven’t slept together recently?”

The question caught him off-guard but he recovered quickly, smiling a familiar coy smirk as he answered. “I do admit, I’ve been worried for your mental health. They say it’s very bad to sleep alone, you know.”

Okay, so it had been related. She’d hoped he realised by himself that she wasn’t trying to slight or disregard him.

“Is it important to you?”

His smirk faltered, incredulous and confused. “Is what important to me?”

She gestured at the space between them, trying to convey herself as clearly as she could. “Fun, or whatever you keep calling it. Is that like a super big thing for us to do?”

Maybe she could make it all about her for now. She could pretend the problem came from her side rather than admitting to the truth.

He looked incredibly bored when he answered. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“As great as you are at everything, I don’t know, I was thinking we could share a relationship that’s a little more than just fun.”

“More?”

“Unless you’re not comfortable with it.”

She had genuinely confused him and he took a few seconds to think about it, gaze drifting off and over her shoulder to something else. When he looked back at her, his expression was unreadable.

“We… we can try for more,” he said. “If you want. You know, if that’s what was keeping you from enjoying the finer things of life, you needed only to say. We could have started on this whole ‘more’ thing days ago and then you can enjoy all of me, guilt-free.”

“Strangely, I enjoy more about your company than how talented you are in other fields,” she said, sarcastic. “If all I wanted was sex, I could have ditched you lot in the first town and hired a brothel. The heavens know I have enough gold.”

He scoffed. “You wouldn’t have half of it if you didn’t have an uncanny knack for finding merchants who will buy your junk.”

“And I wouldn’t have half the junk I do if not for the rogue I drag to every chest,” she teased.

“Ah so it’s not because of my talents, it’s because you don’t know what a lockpick is.”

She would laugh if she didn’t fear he may genuinely think that to be a reason she wanted him around. He may have pushed aside their earlier conversation but the worries lingered in her mind.

She’d spent too many hours with this man to have him believe she didn’t genuinely just enjoy his personality. She’d sketched his laugh lines, listened to the way he teased their friends, dragged him closer to the group so he stopped hovering in the darkness.

“Astarion?” she said and she ran her fingers over the back of his hand so he’d look at her. “Is it really so hard to believe I drag you around to these places because I like spending time with you?”

He chuckled. “Of course not. Have you met me?”

“As long as you know.”

He tilted his head towards her, red eyes burning through her with an unreadable emotion. “It’s the type of noble thing you do. You collect all these crazy people from their situations to save them. They might not be helpful to you in the future but maybe you can be their hero.”

“What?”

“Come now, nobody else would gather this little ragtag group just because we share an eye infection.”

“The only person I can think of who might’ve needed saving is Gale and I didn’t really do it because I wanted to be a hero,” she said. “And I suppose I tried to help you but you asked for assistance first and I wasn’t about to abandon some random vampire in the sun.”

“Well, you didn’t know I was a vampire then.”

She hesitated. “I really did. The eyes could have been drow parent or something but the fangs and the scar really gave you away.”

He chuckled so she hoped her words didn’t offend him. She didn’t know how he even felt about appearing so obviously like a vampire. If his appearance didn’t give him away though, she’d known the second he grabbed her and she felt the chill of death on her skin.

His lack of ability to lie when they found the boar made it even more clear.

She wanted to lace their fingers together but he’d moved his hands away, not even fully focused on her. Something in their conversation had confused him more than he cared to admit.

“You really are beautiful,” she chose to say. “I think it every day when I look at you.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Though it wouldn’t hurt for you to say it a little more. I’ve only heard those words from your mouth about four times which is nowhere near enough.”

She laughed. “Well, you are stunning. I can appreciate it even without our midnight visits.”

He sighed dramatically. “You know, with how against sex you are, I’m going to start to think you didn’t enjoy yourself at all.”

“I did but I just know you didn’t.”

He went still and she cursed herself for the thoughtless comment. She’d gotten too used to defending herself to the others by pointing it out that she spoke without intending to.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I’ll never forget our night together. It was one of my favourites.”

Should she apologise? She wasn’t sure but before she could, he got up from his bedroll and smiled. After a moment of consideration, he pressed a light kiss to the side of her mouth awkwardly.

“Right,” he said. “I need to hunt before tomorrow. You should catch up on that rest.” And he left her alone, fingers brushing against the spot he kissed, wondering how she could fix this one.

Taglist: @cassiopeia-adaar , @yikes-buddy