#first part is certainly correct

[catenaaurea]

If I am anti-modern, it is certainly not out of personal inclination, but because the spirit of all modern things that have proceeded from the anti-Christian revolution compels me to be so, because it itself makes opposition to the human inheritance its own distinctive characteristic, because it hates and despises the past and worships itself and because I hate and despise that hatred and contempt and that spiritual impurity; but if it be a question of preserving and assimilating all the riches of being accumulated in modern times and sympathizing with the effort of the seekers after truth and desiring renovations, then there is nothing I desire more than to be ultra-modern. And in truth do not Christians implore the Holy Ghost to renew the face of the earth? Are they not expecting the life of the age to come? There will be novelties then and for everybody. I admire the art of the Cathedrals and Giotto and Angelico. But I loathe neo-Gothic and pre-Raphaelitism. I am well aware that the course of time is irreversible; in spite of the great admiration I feel for the age of St. Louis, I do not therefore want to go back to the Middle Ages, according to the ridiculous desire generously attributed to me by certain penetrating critics; my hope is to see restored in a new world, and informing a new matter, the spiritual principles and eternal laws of which the civilization of the Middle Ages, in its best periods, offers us only a particular historic realization of a superior quality, in spite of its enormous deficiencies, but definitively over and done with.

Jacque Maritain, Antimoderne (1922)

[eunuchve]

tags: mdni, smut, dragon!morax, MONSTERFUCKING, rut/mating cycles, predator/prey, double dragon cocks, double penetration, CERVIX FUCKING, size kink, mentioning pregnancy, mating, bro has a worship kink, breeding kink hints (he's in a rut dont hold it against him) a.n: (what have i done) this is the first porn with plot I've written and I gotta say; it is damn long.... happy valentines my dears, enjoy! pairings: zhongli x afab!reader

Lord Morax is a god; but he is more than that, he is an adeptus. illuminated beast. this fact needs no introduction, everyone knows. 

so when he took leave to a remote part of liyue somewhere, unknown to even his retainers, no one dared to bat an eye. the rain has fallen heavy, the season has become damp, and the scheduled time is near; Rex Lapis will have his rut.

it didn't take long for people to figure out the reasons for his absence; not when the lord became increasingly unfocused during stately meetings a week prior or when his eyes would turn to slits with a whiff of a woman's perfume for a month’s time.

You, the lone herb picker of a local pharmacy, didn't know any better when you stumbled upon a large hollowed-out cave that wasn't supposed to be there. you are familiar with the terrains, hell, you know it like the back of your hand -- so imagine your surprise when you find a nesting dragon inside, heaving, grunting alone; its horns glowing with a bright amber before its head snapped to your directly, eyes instantly turning to slits.

at first, you stumble backwards, watching as the figure slowly but surely towers over your frame; your neck cranes to meet its molten bronze eyes. it didn't take you long to realise whose privacy you had so ungraciously barged into; your mouth dries and you dropped your basket full of violetgrass, your heart beating out of your chest before your feet finally got some sense and took running to the woods. 

'fuck fuck fuck.'

you are going to die- you are so sure you are going to die. when your feet stumble and trip over branches and air, when you can hear him gliding through the sky; undoubtedly searching for you. The sounds of his scaled body burst through the leaves of the ginkgo trees, or of his deep, rough growls that echo through the forest. With every heavy step you take, you can feel him getting closer and closer. The thrill and fear mix inside of you, your body stirs with blood coursing through you. Weirdly amid the fear you feel-- somehow excitement came into the mix; something about your life being in the mercy of a chase?

Why is he there again? Rut? So will he fuck you or will he kill you? You certainly prefer one to the other. 

Your legs continue to run, even as you trip and fall, or when you stumble upon a rock or two; searching for an exit to a nearby village or open path; but no matter how far you run you can't seem to find the correct way. Your eyes scanned all directions before your body was suddenly pinned down under a sudden force and unmoving weight.

The paws of a creature so large that it covers your entire back, its talons digging into your back. The smell of freshly dug earth and exotic spices violates your nostrils and your heart can't help but thump against your chest just a little faster. You turned your neck, finding the dragon’s face mere inches from yours; his hot breath grazing the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Please don’t kill me.” god your voice sounds so desperate; with a hint of a broken whimper- even you are embarrassed by that fact. but your god didn't seem disturbed, instead he let out a low grunt, before hissing back a reply.

"don't beg."

"...huh?"

"don't." he spat the word, seeming holding something back. "beg."

"b-but--"

he didn't let you finish, picking you up by the scruff of your neck before throwing you to his back. he flew you back somewhere, you didn't care to notice since most of the flight back you are scrambling for something to hold on to; whether it is the golden spines or his actual body.

by the time you both arrive at the entrance of the familiar cave, he has waited for you to get off his back. you inclined, of course, shakily getting a feel of the ground below, catching your breath whilst adrenaline courses through you. once you get a feel yourself, your eyes travel to him, catching his large form walking slowly to the back of the cave.

"you won't kill me?" you find yourself asking; his head then slowly turns to you before, a visible look of confusion etched on it.

"Why would I?" his deep rough voice replies. he is definitely holding something back, the way his lips parted a bit to let steam out of his mouth, the sharp teeth that are visible from them make you gulp the pooling saliva in your mouth.

"Because... cave..."

weak reasoning, you'd have to admit, but if he won't kill you then you'd have to be sure of the other possibility. "then would you fuck me?"

the look on his face deepened before his head hung low, and a soft whisper came to you for a reply. "what makes you think of that?"

"It's your- Rex Lapis it's your time of..."

embarrassed, incredibly embarrassed; that's the feeling you felt, with the heat of blood rushing to your cheek and thumping heart against your chest only enforcing the fact.

"it is time for my rut, yes," he confirmed, his gaze thrown to the floor, avoiding your figure, "but I am not one with lost senses; sleep, it is night, it will be safer to leave in the morning."

you nod weakly, shuffling your way to the walls and plopping down on the dirt before curling up. the heat in your cheeks refuses to prevail as you watch him walk back, his long tail moves with each step he takes, the tuff at the end resembling that of golden clouds.

"My lord why are you moving so far away?" you asked, instantly biting your lip the moment that question escaped your mind, realising how desperate you sounded with that pretence.

"your arousal," he states matter of factly. "you. I can smell it."

you look at him wide-eyed, your face now comparable in its heat to the sun, your lips agape.

"it's safer for you this way," he continues.

"do you not want to?" archons you are greedy aren't you. "your rut- I can.. help..."

"I doubt it." his voice is precise, he says it like it's a fact, not even letting you have a space to express your desire. "they are the size of your thigh and their length..."

"I can try." bold- now you are being too bold. the size of your thigh he said? now you can feel your ears getting heated up from the shame. your thigh now pressed together as you imagine him inside of you; a second pass and your arms no longer placed nicely on your lap, instead instinctively protecting your chest.

his gaze looms over you, his snout now only a hairsbreadth away from your neck; a long deep breath he takes is audible before he groans out a reply.

"Do not test me human," something inside of him is threatening undone, you know it, "I will breed you till your womb is full and your consciousness lost-- if that is not what you desire then stay quiet and sleep; I shall bring you the village in the morning but until then speak not of this."

you gulp, now your lips parted before you crane your neck and place a shaky kiss on his scaled cheek, the heat of his body contrasting the cold of your flesh. "... that is what I desire--"

with that your clothes are torn apart; the valuable silk you spend months of your wage on is gone and your naked skin is exposed. the cold air hardened your nipples and he took notice, his head travelling down, his long forked tongue lapping sweetly onto them, earning your strangle out a moan.

"getting aroused from a chase," he breathes out, almost teasing you; hot breath contrasts that of the cooling saliva on your perked buds, sending vibrations down your spine. "thinking you can take a dragon's cocks, wanting to be the mother of my offsprings -- what bold actions you possessed."

you let out a whine, his tongue now travelling down, ever so subtly closing down to your cunt. you pressed your thighs together; embarrassed, already feeling your arousal seeping out of you before his claws forced them wide open, earning your moan.

"you are pooling my dear," he almost chuckled, his eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, his breath now grazing your quivering folds, unexpected whimper broken out of you.

"please?"

with that word you can feel the air snap hotter, his eyes now meeting yours; his form towering over you before he chuckle, training down kisses, his tongue now making sure you are covered in his scent.

"didn't I tell you not to beg?" his claws hold your thigh open and he took a lap of your cunt, almost smiling at your taste. "do you know why my dear?"

"n-no--"

your moans escape, feeling his tongue entering you, fucking you, stimulating your walls, not letting you escape. you arched your back, biting your lips as another whimper persisted. you feel his hand moving, now pressing his claws to your other hole, expecting you to open up; and you let him, your holes now stuffed full of him before you feel his tongue slip out of you, your whine tells him as much about what you want.

"Because if you beg..." he now moves his hands to your ankles, folding you in half and you watch helplessly, his two golden cocks decorated with geometric lines and veins on either side, one on top of the other- he does not lie, the size of those things are comparable to your thigh, its length will most likely penetrate your womb- "I will answer."

he chuckles subtly, aligning his cocks to both of your holes, its weight now pressing down on you, precum leaks out of them, lubricating you further.

"i am a god, my dear; I always answer."

with that he presses his cock head to your holes, hoping both of them will ease up. you moan his title out, causing him to snap his head to you, making him greedy.

Your little groan and hiss only help you muster up the strength to let loose, feeling your holes easing up before they let his cockheads in, making your chest heave.

he grunts against your neck; and you feel his teeth subtly tracing your shoulder, little nips that satiate his hunger, burying his head in its crook.

"Celestia." the way you feel around the tip of his cock is incomparable; the dragon finds himself clenching down his jaw, controlling his urges to slam you down to its hilt. "you are made for me my dear."

he grabs a hold of your hips, and you feel him sliding you down. you let out a low moan, your back still arched as you feel him inside of you more and more. the burn from the stretch doesn't scare you, even if you feel like you are being split in two- you only know the pleasure that waits for you not so out of reach.

not even halfway and you already feel him brushing against your cervix, your broken moan coupled with the way you rolled your hips almost makes him snap. his other cock too now deep inside of you- almost too deep; you feel the pressure against your throat, feeling his cocks twitch, almost making you jolt, your hand searching from his arm, nails now digging into his scales.

he looks at you, his parted lips letting out steam before his uneven breathing stops to let him speak. "I shall move now."

you look at him, biting your lips and nod firmly, affirming your readiness. you feel him trying to go out of you, your cunt and hole tightening around him, almost hungry before he slams into you, earning your cry of pleasure.

it persists; he goes out of you before he slips inside, messaging your walls before they tightened around him again, hungrily seeking him, your face now fucked out with pleasure, feeling him abuse your holes.

"I'm not even all the way in my dear." he almost smirks, you can see it. before you know it, you suddenly feel him picking you up, your walls being freed from his cocks, suddenly empty and you whine; letting him flip you to your stomach and holding your ass up in the air.

he marvels at the sight, seeing both of your holes gape yet clench down on nothing, it almost made him giddy.

"my beautiful follower," he mused, his claws now digging into your flesh before you feel his cocks lining up with your holes again; embarrassingly you can feel your cunt relaxing, ready to take him in once more. "will you be my mate now darling?"

"yes!" your desperation stays, you want him inside you so bad, "please Rex Lapis please!"

you didn't know what did, but you certainly awaken something in him. he brings you up in the air before slamming you down on his cocks, your walls now taking him fully, your stomach bulging out with his shape. your breath knocks out of you; you can feel him all the way in your womb, your hand can't help but trace the raised flesh, your spine almost shivering from the sensation.

"keep begging."

that sounds like an order; even your now fucked out brain knows that. so like the good follower you are you follow that order.

"Please make me your mate," you choke out, his slow rhythms that know your breath slowly but surely going faster, brushing up against all your pleasure spots, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. "please please please please I wanna- I want--"

he chuckles, the way you mewl your pleas, the way your warm flesh tightens around him; he can even feel your walls hungrily sucking him in so nicely. in his mind he is thanking Celestia; because fuck, you are a masterpiece.

"a human could die from this," he grunts out, going in and out of you with an inhuman pace, your cunt and hole loosening with his movements. "not you my dear; you are made for me."

you whine from his statement, the bludge he created only drives you to the edge, feeling something inside of you tightening, your nails digging into his scaled flesh, your face supported by his nose. "R-rex Lapis i- my-- i'm--"

"you want to cum my dear?" he almost teases you with the question, his cock brushing, bullying your g spot, making you dig your nails further, your head could only nod desperately at his question. "hold it, you could only cum when I do."

you whine out with his order, and he lets out a subtle groaning with it, chuckling at your reaction. his hand moves down, large talons brushing against your hard clit, teasing the nub; knowing exactly what it will make you do.

you wrapped your arm around his neck, his golden mane brushing against your flesh so softly; and your tug your face on them, muffling out your long moan and desperate cries.

"fuck- please lord mo- morax- r-rex lapis please- i want- i wanna- please please please-"

he kept his word, his face moving and kissing your neck, feeling you move your pelvis to fit him better, your inside hungrily brushing against his shaft. his brow knits, he feels himself almost coming undone.

"now."

with a final thrust, he fills both of your holes with white ropes of cum, you yourself arching your back, feeling your orgasm hits you harder than ever before. he hear your pants before he coils around you, closing gaps between the two of your while still being inside of you, wrapped up by your own warmth.

"i shall make the wedding preparation after the season's over," he breath out; your mind finally able to join the sentence together before you move your head, repeating the most important word again.

"wedding..."

"of course my dear," he kisses you, his snout pressed against your jaw before he tugs his head onto your collar bone. his hand travels to your stomach, rubbing the visible buldge that only grows with his cum, almost making look pregnant.

"the little ones will be coming soon."

[igotanidea]

Not enough: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

(Part 2 to too much)

„I am so terribly sorry for the inconvenience I might have brought on you with my sudden appearance-” she started while walking inside the place of her destination or, to put it more bluntly, after fleeting from her own house upon not-so-subtle fight with her still-husband.

„Y/n! Nonsense my dear, your presence is always welcomed here.” she heard in response and for the first time since the argument she managed to look into the eyes of another person as well as take in the scene in front of her.

Oh dear lord!

Her timing couldn’t be more wrong.

Apparently the only person who was missing from the widow viscountess Bridgerton household was the queen herself, since not only the lady of the house alongside with all her unmarried daughters were enjoying the afternoon tea, but - to Y/N’s very well hidden terror - the duchess and lady Danburry were present as well.

„duchess.” Y/N bowed in the most polite manner she could even though her knees were shaking „lady Danburry.”

Act like nothing happened.

Behave like a lady and not like a little kid, who came her to pour all her worries and tell on her husband who happened to be mean. The last thing she needed was for everyone to talk about her nervousness and giddiness. None of those ladies would be easily fooled and most definitely not lady Danburry with her nosy nature and piercing gaze.

The point was to visit her favourite sister-in-law Eloise who- luckily - were free of any marriage troubles and gain some perspective but that scenario flew away with the gentle summer breeze faster than Y/N could think.

And now she would be kindly invited to join the tea and the respect for widower viscountess alongside with the obligation to the higher positioned duchess (even if family) would forbid her from declining.

„Y/N.” Daphne sent her that tiny, quite shy smile that didn’t calm the nerves even in the slightest. Yes, the duchess was one of the most polite and subtle person in the society, but she was also happily married with another baby on the way.

„Viscountess Bridgerton.” the oldest, lady Danburry on the opposite was known from her sharp tongue and straightforward attitude. That one did not pull her punches.

„My dearest Y/N.” Violet Bridgerton, the mother in law stood up from her place and hugged the girl close. Obviously she was the most open one with her emotions. And the simple warm welcome made Y/n feel a bit strengthened to the point when she even gave a little smile. Tiniest, but honest and still visible.

„Is Anthony with you my dear?’

„Unfortunately my husband is absorbed with the matter of the household today.” Y/N explained, taking a seat next to Violet. „I was rather confused with all the men’s affairs, which brought me here.”

„confused?” Eloise, of whose presence everyone seemed to forget scoffed from her book „You are way smarter that Anthony is, Y/n!”

„Eloise!” her mother friendly scolded her second daughter

„It’s true mama!”

„Even though-’

„Did you come baring notices by any chance, viscountess?" lady Agatha cut into the family exchange innocently taking a sip of her tea, those sharp eyes of a predator glistening

„Notices?”

„Yes viscountess, notices. It;s been a fair amount of time since the marriage, surely something should happen soon between two people who are lucky enough to be in love as much as yo and the viscount?”

Oh...

Oh, she meant that kind of notices.

„May this be so, Y/n?” Daphne asked seeming uncharacteristically brisk. „shall we expect?”

„I certainly hope she won’t be burdened with the heir to the title any time soon--”

‘Eloise!”

„Is it the only purpose of a woman to be obedient to a man and give him children?!”

All the four older woman in the room went quiet and Eloise realised she might have had said a little bit too much. Not only for the lady but in general.

„I suppose our dearest Y/N would love to become a mother and bless us with the little boy or girl, am I correct?”

Of course I would love to, Violet.

I would love to.

Unfortunately so it happens your oldest son refuses to even speak or look at me, let alone performing his so-called marital duty. Which is even more tragic, since I became one to him. Here is the essence of my existence - forever being reminded of the burden I put on his shoulder with storming into his life.

Obviously those thoughts were something the newest viscountess Bridgerton could not form out loud.

„I shall send the regards to my husband ladies. Certainly will not omit to inform him of the expectation placed upon us both.” was the only thing she managed to say with confidence before her voice broke and she covered the sudden wavering by reaching for the sweet placed on the nearby platter.

„Oh my dearest Y/N, it’s no obligation!” Violet seemed quite hurt by the words spoken by her daughter-in-law „Regardless - a child is always a miracle that-”

„Maybe Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about it, if Anthony were taking more interest in her rather than spending time with Benny and Colin.”

„Eloise!”

„It’s just a simple observation! Benedict and Colin are still bachelors, even though the ladies of kind are sharpening their claws for them both, considering the fact the viscountess title is not longer available. Nonetheless, neither of them seem to be interested in taking in marriage-”

‘Eloise!” Violet called upon her daughter once more

„Perhaps if they weren’t spending their times in the club, effectively convincing Anthony to go with them--”

‘Enough, young lady!”

„But-”

„Enough Eloise.”

Y/N went pale at all the words spoken. Not because of their truthfulness, but due to the fact that the word already got out. This was a calamity she was trying her best to cover up and now her favourite member of the family announced them to the world, not thinking about the possible consequences of aforementioned action.

„Y/N, are you quite all right?” Daphne was the first one to take some action „that sudden pallor cannot be good for you. Shall we take a walk?”

Naturally the little stroll around the room will be something to make her feel better. Luckily the most perceptive Eloise noticed the torpid expression on the viscountess face and, not giving her sister any chance to press the matter further, vigorously explained that Daphne certainty meant an actual promenade outside on the manor grounds and that was something y/n was more than delighted to engage in.

Presenting a perfect opportunity to actually indulge in a meaningful conversation not regarding children and submission due to a woman.

***

On the other side of the city Anthony didn’t even notice his wife’s actual absence.

How could he, when she was always present and vivid in his mind, leaving him with her image in front of his eyes even when she was away from him.

Y/N’s face and silhouette, her smile and her resonant, joyful laughter were forever carved in his mind, ever since the day she laughed at him at the lake upon their first meeting, through the first moment of stolen forbidden intimacy, up to the moment looked into her eyes while vowing to love and to cherish her.

His beautiful bride.

His beautiful wife.

Strong willed, hot headed, always having an opinion of her own and doing things her own way, capable to charm everyone with the cheerful character and most natural humor and intelligence.

All the traits that could not be bought by any of the obedient, quiet and shy ladies from high society.

All the traits that put him under her spell and made him want to spend the rest of his life with Y/n.

Only with her.

And he didn’t want to fight, he wanted the same kind of marriage his own parents were joyful to share.

It was all so perfect, until the moment those bright memories got covered with storm clouds of how he behave towards her.  

Not that the viscount gave them much thoughts, too lost in his own meaningless settlements that were not due till the fore-coming month.

It was easier this way.

Forgetting about all the words he said int he moment of anger and of fear (if not mere terror) of his own emotions.

Emotions that, unfortunately, refused to be closed in a hard shell of harsh, obsessive behaviour and being ignored.

Once let out, they wanted to run free.

And oh, so they did, causing the viscount to feel dizzy and giving him palpitations.

All the marriages had their bad moments.

It was impossible to continue for years keeping the same flame that started years ago.

The wife was supposed to be obedient and comply with her husband wishes, especially not bothering him with her presence and whimsical needs or fairy-tell beliefs.

A lady was a diamond in the crown but a wife became a part of the estate, of the livestock. Forever in her husband’s hand to rule.

He was the the man.

He was the viscount and before he met her she was just another long-forgotten by admirers débutante desperate to--

No.

No this was not true and as much as it would be comfortable for Anthony to dwell in all those thoughts, his heart was still in the right place giving him a very clear signal it was time to stop justifying his previous action. Those were the foundation for a very unstable and fragile house that could be blown away easily.

Maybe it wasn’t that his emotions were too much. Maybe it was that his heart capacity was not enough to contain the amount of affection he held for his one and only.

His Y/N.

And he couldn’t have that.

He had to find her wherever she might have been.

He had to fight for her and make it all right.

Even if that meant getting back on his knees, making a scene straight out of those unrealistic romance novels ladies loved and putting it into practice.

„Where on earth is my wife?!” he yelled to the servants, opening the door to his office, his voice loud enough to make the walls shake.

I’m coming for you, my viscountess.

My love.

***

It's not over yet!

Edit: part 3 : almost there

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4

@gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm

@bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @cat-lockwood @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。10:07 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

al-haitham asks you to marry him before he even realizes himself what he’s just asked. it’s a random tuesday night. you’re in worn out pajamas, he’s still got slight damp hair from his shower, and the both of you are curled up on the couch.

you’re rubbing his chest and his arm’s wrapped around your waist when you murmur, “we should get a place with more windows.”

he raises a brow, turns to look at you and scan over the side of your face. it’s familiar, the way you look so pretty under the dim light, on the same couch against the same walls in the same living room. but it’ll still feel like the first time even if it’ll be his last.

“is the design of our current home not up to your standards?” he asks, making you giggle.

“it’s nice,” you hum, “but it needs more windows. and a bigger kitchen. and maybe a backyard.”

“this home is conveniently close to our place of work,” he argues, fingers creeping up from under your shirt and rubbing circles into your hip. it’s soft—your skin, it’s warm and familiar under the rough pad of his thumb. it’s a touch that’s routine enough that you don’t squirm in surprise anymore when he finds your bare skin, and then he wonders for a moment if there are other routines waiting for him.

maybe he’ll watch you wait for him through the window as he comes home. maybe you’ll dance in the kitchen as coffee’s being made. maybe there’ll be picnics in the backyard as the sun sets. maybe, when you have a new house but the same home, he’ll find more of you in the walls and the corners of every room.

“haitham,” you huff, “a little extra walk won’t kill you. we should find our dream home.”

“our?” he asks after a moment, like he’s shocked. you only nod against his chest.

“of course, silly,” you chuckle, “i certainly won’t be house shopping with the general mahamatra—”

“we should get married,” he blurts.

“what?”

“my grandmother left a ring,” he instantly explains, “it’s a very nice ring, i promise. you won’t have to worry about having a bare finger—”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“and it can be a small ceremony,” he assures, “it shouldn’t take much planning. but if you’d like something fancier, i don’t mind either, it’s your wedding day just as much as it is mine—”

“that’s sweet, but wait—”

“and if you’re worried about time off for the honeymoon, as the former acting grand sage, there’s still a few strings i can pull for us both. i hear inazuma is nice during spring, so that gives us—”

he’s rambling. he’s figuring it out right here and now and it’s the last thing you expect of him, not having an elaborate plan—and it takes you by surprise. but he’s breathless and his eyes are wide and his chest is warm and his arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist.

and you couldn’t dream of saying no.

“you think you want all this?” you ask gently, “with little old me?”

“there’s no one but you,” he mumbles, holding you closer. and if there’s a slight bounce in his knee as he waits for your answer, you pretend you don’t notice.

“so you want to get married?”

“i want to marry you,” he corrects, “i want you. marriage is just the means of how.”

“okay,” you say with a hitch in your throat. after a moment of silence, you let out a shaky chuckle, eyes watery as you meet his. “okay. let’s get married.”

“okay,” he nods slightly, swallowing thickly.

“and we can have a house with more windows,” you add.

“and a bigger kitchen,” he agrees.

“and a backyard.”

“maybe a bigger study,” he adds thoughtfully.

you grab his face at that, with enough desperation that his cheeks are squished in your hands as you turn him, pressing your lips to his. you taste him, feel him pass through you as a breath of air, hear him ring through your ear as a muffled grunt.

he’s a part of you. he’s every inch of you. he lingers on your skin and knits into your bones. he’s yours now and somehow….somehow he’ll be yours forever.

“i’m going to get married,” you sniffle. “how exciting.”

“i’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, like he’s still processing the fact that you’re here, and his, and you’ve said yes.

“i love you,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his.

his eyes close and his arm squeezes you gently. “i’ll always love you.”

edit: everyone stop fucking commenting about the authors note it was a joke and the comments are getting old :/ why don’t you actually leave feedback on the fic itself for once and show writers some support as you consume content

you people don’t fucking understand how insanely in love with him i am i want to make a fur coat out of his pubic hair and wear it on a cold winter day idc

[lenaellsi]

“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

[azrielsdove]

Ive been loving all the fics youve been posting. I had this lil idea that hopefully sparks joy for you if ur requests are open. Its an azriel x reader. Where reader is very cold hearted and kinda mean almost bitchy like nesta. Hates to be touched eapecially on her back. Azriel hates her cuz she so unpleastant and so incredibly difficult. The bond snaps for azriel and hes so so confused because he for sure thought elain was for him. Reader always looks at azriels hands almost disgusted but the truth is that she had her wings cut off and the stumps burned down to her flesh, so her entire back is scarred like azriels hands. Her face isnt of disgust but since he hides his hands she assumes he'd be disgusted in her. Azriel softens up to her when he finds out she has a soft spot for children, maybe she teaches orphaned children in the city. Idk i just like the idea of a cold hearted reader thats just as scarred as azzy but actually has a soft heart for kids. Or maybe shes always longed for a family of her own but cant get passed her own insecurities. You can change whatever you'd like to fit your writing style. ❤️

Thank you love!!!! I am OBSESSED with this idea and took off with it. I decided to turn it into a mini series, when I started writing the Readers POV it was getting wayyyy long. I hope I have done your idea justice, here is part 1 <3

Cold Hearts: Azriel x Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Pt. 2 Here

***

Azriel couldn’t stand her. She was nothing but cold and hateful to everyone, especially to him. When she had first come to stay with Rhysand in Velaris, he had tried to be kind to her. Rhys hadn’t told anyone why he brought her, and she certainly never opened up about it.

The first day he met her, she was sitting silently in the small library in the House of Wind. Azriel had smiled at her and given a “Good morning.” She had turned sharply to look at him, her gaze focusing on the hand he waved with. He watched the look of disgust come over her face before she turned back to staring into the fire.

Azriel had been a little taken aback. Sure, he struggled with the way his hands looked, and was no stranger to the dirty looks. The look on her face had been nastier than he had ever seen. She looked at his hands like they caused her pain. He left the library after that, not sure what to think.

Many years had gone by since that first meeting, and Azriel preferred to stay far away from her. No one else wears very fond of her either. He still didn’t know why Rhys had brought her here, nor why he allowed her to stay. She spent most of her days locked in her room or sitting in the library. She occasionally came to meals with the family, rarely speaking. And when she did speak? It was always some cold remark, as if she wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else.

So why did she stay?

Azriel pondered that question far too often. When Rhys became trapped Under the Mountain, he had included that everyone should be prepared for war in his last message. Azriel took it upon himself to train her. He had shown up to her room early in the morning, expecting a fight. To his shock, she willingly came.

She took to training quicker than Azriel had thought. She proved to have some skill under that cold shell she showed everybody, even if it took some coaxing for it to come out. He was impressed. Azriel even started enjoying teaching her, until the day she lashed out at him and declared she never wanted to see him again.

He didn’t know what he had done wrong.

He was trying to teach her a slightly difficult new maneuver. She was struggling to angle her body the correct way, unable to understand how Azriel did it. He had reached out to help her, placing a hand on her lower back and shoulder to move her body into place. She shot out of his grasp like he had stabbed her, whipping around to face him.

“What do you think you are doing?” She had seethed, eyes on fire. Azriel had held his hands up in surrender, confused.

“I was just trying to help-“ He had begun, being cut off by her.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me.” She had glared at his hands, a stare he didn’t miss.

“I don’t understand why you must be so insufferable all of the time!” Azriel had snapped, fed up with the constant negativity and judgement that came from her.

“Maybe don’t be a nasty pig and grab up on any female you see!” She had shouted, turning to leave the ring. “Stay away from me. I don’t wish to see you anymore.”

And that was that.

Cassian had taken over her training from then on out. Azriel was fine with it. She clearly had some sort of issue with him, and it seemed to stem from his hands. His ugly, scarred hands. Were they really so grotesque she couldn’t even stand him touching her?

***

When Rhysand had returned from Under the Mountain, things got better and worse. At first, she had been kinder. Azriel had noticed how she rushed to Rhys before anyone else, how carefully she wrapped him in her arms. The two of them had disappeared after that, not seen until the next day. Azriel couldn’t figure out why the two of them had such a bond, why Rhysand cared for her so much. He had just come back and announced that the human girl - Feyre - was his mate, so it couldn’t be a romantic attraction.

Or could it?

Azriel shook his head, demanding those thoughts the leave his mind. Ignoring the spark of jealousy that ran through him. He didn’t know why he cared so much about her.

***

Elain. There was no doubt in Azriels mind that Elain was his. Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta, naturally Azriel would have Elain. It didn’t matter that the cauldron had mated her with Lucien. Three sisters, three brothers. Anyone could read what that meant.

Azriel tried not to notice the way she had slunk into the shadows lately. When Feyre first came to the Night Court, the two had struck up a friendship. Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes and ears when he saw how fun and sweet she was with Feyre. It further confirmed his belief that she was so disgusted in his scars that she couldn’t stand to be near him. She had even started to being nicer to Cassian, her training with him going much better than yours with Azriels had.

Once the bond snapped with Feyre and Rhysand, she had taken a small step back from the both of them. When it snapped with Cassian and Nesta, she had backed away from Cass as well. She barely even had a witty retort anymore, choosing to stay quiet most of the time.

Azriel felt like no one else had noticed the change in her. However, he had to admit, so much change had happened in such a short time that he couldn’t blame them for not realizing.

Why did he realize?

Even as she created small friendships with the others, she ignored Azriel. She only looked at him to stare at his hands. He had taken to wearing his gloves around her at all times, but she just stared as if she could see through the fabric. He had spent decades trying to be nice to her, for nothing. She rarely spoke to him, mostly just gave that look to his hands.

She was always going to be cruel to him.

***

Azriel was trying desperately to find a Solecist gift for Elain. He knew he had a reputation for gifts, and he wanted to make sure what he got Elain was perfect. As perfect as she is.

And he had no idea what that would be.

He was wandering the paths of Velaris aimlessly, peering into the stores as he passed, trying to see anything that seemed like Elain. He was getting worried that he would never find anything, turning away from yet another shop.

He stopped when he saw her.

She was inside a little building, large windows open for anyone to see in. He watched as she stood at the front of the room, facing a small group of…children? He angled his body a little to see clearly into the room, listening to her voice come through the window. Her tone was kinder than he had ever heard it. Azriel watched with wide eyes as she demonstrated a defense move-a move he had taught her.

And now she was teaching it to children.

He watched for the rest of the class, amazed at how well the kids grasped onto the concepts she was teaching. He felt his heart skip when her laughter floated out the windows, a bright smile on her face as she looked at one of the students. He had never seen her like this before.

When the class ended he watched as one of the smaller children ran up to her and threw their arms around her legs. Azriel expected her to jump back at the touch, instead watching her bend down and wrap her arms around them. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe any of this. He turned and headed back to the House, the gift for Elain long forgotten.

***

He wanted to approach her. He wanted to ask about the children he saw her teaching. He had a sudden desire to know more about her, to see who she may be under that cold exterior.

Azriel should have known she wouldn’t let him.

It was a few days after he had spotted her in town, and he had finally found her alone in the little library. He cleared his throat as he approached her, hoping to get her attention. Of course, she ignored him. He shouldn’t have been hurt by it, but he had been so hopeful after seeing her with the children.

Azriel called her name.

Her head slowly turned to him, eyes blazing. “Yes?” She asked coolly. Azriel have a small smile, refusing to lose his nerve now.

“I saw you, in town? With the children? I-“ He started, cut off by her suddenly standing.

“Spying on me, are you?” She asked, anger all over her face.

“No! No! I was shopping, for Elain, and I happened to walk by!” Azriel was gesturing wildly, not wanting you to think he was following you. “I saw you and then I saw the children and I was interested. You were, nice to them.” He cursed the words as they came out of his mouth, sounding just as sorry as one could imagine.

She scoffed. “Why would I not be? They’re kids.” Her words were sharp and Azriel felt embarrassment creep up his neck.

“Well, you’re not really nice to anyone.” He bit out, temper rising as she laughed.

“You don’t know anything about me.” She said, looking at him curiously.

“Oh? Is that so?” Azriel felt the words coming out before he could stop them, all the things he had wanted to say for years. “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone get close to you. I tried to be your friend in the beginning, just for you to be cold and nasty. You are always cold and nasty. I’ve noticed you slowly losing the friends you have made, slinking off into the shadows. Do you ever stop to think that maybe it’s because you’re a cold-hearted bitch?”

She looked like he had slapped her.

“W-what?” She stumbled out, eyes wide.

Now it was Azriels turn to scoff. “Don’t pretend to be innocent now. You rarely speak to anyone except for Rhys, and when you do it’s usually to tell them to leave you alone! Even when I was trying to train you, you lashed out at me for just trying to help. You have always acted like I disgust you, always glaring at my hands. Do they really upset you so much that you have to act like i’m the worst thing you’ve ever encountered? That you have to look at me like that and flinch when I touch you? I tried to be nice to you, just for you to react like that.” He was breathing heavy, all the hurt coming to the surface.

He watched her eyes flash and then suddenly, she was yelling at him. “How dare you? You have no idea what you are talking about. Are you so self centered that you truly believe everything I do is about you? Do you ever stop for one second to think that maybe, just maybe, I have my own shit to deal with?” Her cheeks were colored red, her hands clenching into fists.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “We all have our own shit going on. It doesn’t mean we take all of our miserable feelings out on everyone else!”

“I don’t! I just don’t have any interest in getting close with you. Not everyone has to want to lick the ground you walk on, Shadowsinger.” She spat out the last word like it was dirt in her mouth.

“Why not? What have I ever done that makes you hate me so? What has any of us done? The only one of us you would talk to for years was Rhysand. Did you love him? Are you bitter now that he has a mate and no one will ever be interested in you?” Azriel knew that was a low blow, but his anger overrode him common sense.

“What are you talking about? The relationship between me and Rhysand is none of your business. For a spymaster, you’re truly horrible at reading a situation.” She was angry, angrier than she had been in decades.

Azriel didn’t care. “No one here likes you. They’ve all moved on from their short friendships with you. Even your precious Rhys has found someone else to occupy his time with. Why do you stay here? You have no one.” He felt the pain in his chest at the expression on her face.

She blinked quickly, fighting tears. “You are the cruel one, Azriel.” She turned and ran from the room, leaving him in the aftermath of their fight.

It was the first time she had said his name.

He felt it snap in his chest, the tug to follow you. He could barely react, the shock of it keeping him rooted to the spot. No, he thought. No. Not her. It wasn’t supposed to be her.

The mating bond didn’t care for his concerns.

***

Please let me know how you feel!! Honestly Pt. 2 should be out tonight or tomorrow, i’m pretty far into it. I’m thinking this will be a 3-4 part mini series!!!

[prettyboykatsuki]

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

__

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

[lyssaluvs]

Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again. 

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.  The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning. 

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction. 

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office. 

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you. 

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

[azfell-ajcrowley]

Something we didn't notice (part 2)

part 1

Overall, the meta is based on close observation of Aziraphale (for the most part) and Crowley. Without speculation or trying to guess what we haven't been shown (well, almost).

The Metatron makes it clear that he is watching Aziraphale delivering the "good news". Aziraphale looks back at him.

The first thing I'd like to explain. The Metatron is talking to Muriel, and then he stares at the window of the bookshop duplicating that gaze toward Crowley. The frame changes and we see Aziraphale looking out the same window, just for a second, but he will do it repeatedly.

As Crowley starts his monologue, Aziraphale tries to stop him by gesturing for him not to say too much, while looking out the window himself. Aziraphale continues to turn to the window with every meaningful attempt to speak.

Let's also note that Aziraphale doesn't usually behave in a similar way in conversations with Crowley. Yes, Aziraphale is characterised by active gesticulation, but the constant pauses, averting his eyes from the interlocutor, nervous and jerky movements - these are messengers that angel is holding something back, hiding or simply doesn't want to tell. Most often we see this Aziraphale in conversations with the leadership - God and Archangels.

https://commonmexicanname.tumblr.com/post/734305363759890432/good-omens-thoughts

Here's a prime example, comparing his interaction with Archangels when he's caught off guard and frantically trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.

I don't think Aziraphale is just lying to Crowley here, no. He just has an audience beyond Crowley. He tries to tell everything, knowing he has more than one viewer.

When Aziraphale mentions the Metatron, he is not just hinting, he points his index fingers - one at the window, another at Heaven, and then in a distinctly active quick motion once more at the WINDOW.

And again - turns his face to the window at the words about Gabriel failing, and then tilts his head towards the transparent panes of the bookshop.

The conversation with the Metatron is important, among other things, to assess Aziraphale's behaviour when Crowley is mentioned by his superiors. At the words about their partnership Aziraphale looks frightened: his facial muscles are tense, his forehead and eyebrows are furrowed, and there is a terror in his eyes.

When the God's spokesman concludes his really suspicious speech, Aziraphale swallows nervously and averts his eyes. He certainly doesn't look like someone who's been offered the fulfilment of his cherished dream. And not like someone who believes it.

Aziraphale looks like someone who has just found out what an enormous amount of incriminating information is in his opponent's possession.

"Tell me you said no. Tell me you said NO." Crowley is definitely shocked and horrified, he thinks the best of his angel. He can't believe what's going on (and he isn't supposed to).

Aziraphale turns his head towards the window again as an answer.

He actually said:

And

We see him right before he walks into the bookshop, he never says yes to the Metatron.

Aziraphale utters his most delusional words while looking out the window. Of course, they're not meant for Crowley. Aziraphale hasn't believed it for a long time, Crowley even more so.

And then Crowley says "Oh, God", without correcting himself afterwards, because this demon can only hope in God here.

For a second Aziraphale has a look of hope on his face that Crowley has realised what he's getting at. Then Aziraphale realises that Crowley is trying to confess. He's waited for so long not to realise. He was about to confess too.

Aziraphale already knows everything Crowley is about to tell him, but more importantly, literally everyone already knows it. It's impossible to stay and start pretending again that there's nothing between them.

Aziraphale has a completely blank stare past Crowley, and then he looks out the window. Again.

And then the most interesting thing happens. Crowley starts his line "And I would like to spend…" But he turns his head and finally looks out the window, where Aziraphale has been pointing so hard since the beginning of their conversation.

Maybe that's the reason Crowley doesn't complete the sentence. And he begins to pick up different words. Maybe not, maybe the sun from the outside is preventing him from seeing the Metatron.

In the final part of their conversation, when they move closer to the bookshop's door, Aziraphale looks towards the window again.

After "no nightingales" line he turns away to hide his feelings and pain.

The cherry on the cake is the kiss, Aziraphale is falling into the abyss. He averts his eyes trying to figure out if the Metatron could have seen what just happened.

When Crowley leaves, Aziraphale thinks he's lost him. But then, even when the Metatron walks in and says devaluing words about Crowley, Aziraphale can't tear himself away from the window, because now he can see Crowley there. Maybe not everything is lost.

Aziraphale retreats back to the clock - to the very spot where Crowley was standing a few minutes ago. He looks out the window at Crowley, as if to say, "I stand where you stood, you stand where the Metatron stood."

[dinogoofymutated]

I absolutely adore how you write Kurt,

Could you write something for Kurt being concerned for an overworked reader?

And or a reader that struggles with sleep?

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN! Reader The amount of comfort that this man gives me UGH! He's just so caring and sweet, but I worry about him :( He's been the therapist friend in basically every episode in 97' and he deserves some comfort too so I added basically the reverse version of these headcannons at the end as well! Sorry I didn't end up writing anything for sleep, I've written a fic with some sleep struggle themes here but I might end up writing some seperate headcannons for that later! TWs: Themes of burnout/exhaustion. Mentions of the Genosha attack and Remy's death/funeral, religious themes. As always, reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned. I'm doing my best with adding German dialect while Kurt speaks but I'm not super knowledgeable, so let me know if there's something I need to change!

Kurt makes it his absolute mission to make sure you're always taken care of. Food, emotional support, laundry, dishes, Hell, he'd give you the sun and stars if you needed them. He just cares about you so much, and he never wants you to feel like you're alone in this world.

This being said, when he feels that you're overworking yourself, he's not afraid to let you know.

When he first starts to notice it, He'll check in on you more often. He'll pull you into a hug and give you kisses and he'll only leave when you reassure him that you're perfectly fine.

If you're still overworking yourself after this, he will outright tell you that he loves you, but you need a break. You can't go on like this and he's concerned about you. He doesn't purposely give you the sad puppy eyes, but seriously, how could you think about saying no to that face?

He really likes to brush his hands through your hair when he's trying to help you relax. He'll move your head into his lap on the couch and hum you softly to sleep. He might take you to bed, but he won't wake you up unless he absolutely has to. He won't go as far as to turn off your alarms, but he just wants you to rest.

However, if you know you're overworking yourself but still refuse to let yourself stop, or take a break, he's going to be a little more "aggressive".

    Your computer screen is giving you a migraine, you feel like you want to tear your brain out of your head, and plainly? You just can’t sit still. You had been in this spot for about six hours straight. The last time you actually got up was to eat dinner, and even then you had only relaxed for what, thirty minutes? You can’t really remember.

    You sigh deeply, leaning back in your chair as you massage your temples. Working for the budding country of Genosha was certainly not for the weak. You needed to have this paperwork finished and faxed before the end of the week so that talks of Genosha entering the U.N. could continue. It was such a hefty amount, but it was necessary. Everyone else had done their part, and all you had to do was make corrections, edit, and make sure everything was in top shape. You’d been working on it for about three days straight, and with the finish line in sight, you didn’t want to stop now. 

    Oh, but your head hurts so bad, and you feel like you're starving. You look from your computer to your copy machine and the huge stack of mostly finished paperwork on your desk. You just want it to be over with, you decide it’s best if you just push through.

    “You haven’t moved from that spot since lunch,” You hear Kurt state. He comes around the side of your chair to brush some stray locks away from your forehead, and you do your best to give him a smile, although it’s obvious the expression is pained.

    “I didn’t hear you come in.” Your voice comes out a little gravelly from being silent most of the day. Kurt’s hands begin to gather your hair and caress the back of your neck lovingly. His hands feel good, grounding. You close your eyes to appreciate the feeling and miss the sight of Kurt’s frown.

    “Let’s get you to bed, Liebchen. I can tell your head hurts.” Kurt’s tone is gentle, although displeased, and it makes you feel guilty when you shake your head and pull away, leaning forward as you restack the paperwork on your desk.

    “I can’t. I’m almost done with this whole U.N. thing and the sooner it’s over, the better.” You mumble stubbornly. Kurt shakes his head at you, pulling your rolling chair away from the desk before you can get your hands on something else. You don’t even have the energy to express your shock as Kurt takes the papers out of your hands, using the table to straighten them before placing them in their proper place. He tuts at you as he does so, and continues to save your files and power down the computer despite your protests.

    “My apologies, love, but I won’t let you rot in this room for another moment. I understand how important this work is to you. Giving Genosia a voice that the world can hear is a very noble cause, and yet it is still a cause that can wait till tomorrow, Ja?” You open your mouth to attempt to protest again, but your head hurts so bad, and you are so tired. Kurt takes your hands to help you out of your chair, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls you into a gentle hug.

    “Okay. But-” You don’t finish your sentence before Kurt is tucking your face into his shoulder, sparing you the view as he Bamfs you away. When he lets you go, you’re standing in your bedroom. You’re thankful that he spared you the sights, knowing that it would have just made your head worse- but it didn’t change the fact that you hadn’t been remotely done in the office.

    “-I still need to lock up, Kurt.” You start to say, but he’s gone in a puff of smoke before you can even finish the sentence. When he makes it back a few minutes later, Kurt sends you a cheeky smile, lifting his tail to show you the keys he must’ve snagged from your pocket earlier. 

    “Did you-”

    “Lock the file cabinet? Yes. And I turned off your lamp, and closed the curtains before I locked the door.” Kurt kisses your temple as he sits you down on the bed, beginning to take your shoes off. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you taken care of.” You feel like your heart might explode with the overwhelming fondness you’re feeling right now. When he’s done with your shoes, he carefully helps you undress and change into pajamas, something he knows you struggled with when you were as exhausted as you are now. He makes sure to tuck you into bed before he himself goes to change. It doesn’t matter how much pain you felt at this point, when he crawled into bed you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up close to him, pressing tired kisses to whatever part of him you could reach. Kurt simply chuckles, pulling you into an embrace as he whispers sweet encouragements for you to sleep.

    “Kurt?”

    “Yes, Meine Liebe?”

    “ ‘Think you could Marry me?”

Now just because Kurt will do everything in his power to keep you from reaching the point of burnout, doesn't mean that he himself will stop from reaching that point.

Kurt is a genuinely good person, right to the core. He likes helping people, he likes to care for others, but he doesn't always ask for help when he needs it. It's not that he doesn't have emotional intelligence for his own feelings, he just tends to soothe himself by assisting others. Even then, to an extent, that's not healthy coping. There is only so much someone can carry alone.

After the attack on Genosha, there was a lot of work that had to be done- and Kurt, being a familiar and dependable face in the many religious communities, was needed constantly in a tumultuous time when many turned to religion.

It's been a struggle for the two of you, much of your time together being cut short in one way or another, and the longer you spent away, the more worried you became.

It all came to a head after Remy's funeral.

    Remy’s funeral was… Rough. To say the least. No one was coping very well, especially not Jubilee. You had walked out to the cars with the group after the last of the dirt had been laid, making sure to give her a tight hug. The X-men were the only real family she had ever had, and now she had lost a brother. You had let her sob for a moment, listening to her cries and the sounds of doors, opening and closing. 

    When everyone had loaded up and was ready to head out, you noticed that Kurt wasn’t there. You told everyone that you would catch up. You had a feeling you knew where he would be.

    You find Kurt in an empty church. He’d shed his outermost robes at some point, and was sitting silently on a pew. His eyes are closed and his hands folded, praying. You don’t disturb him as you sit down, simply reaching a hand out and placing it on his knee, squeezing it to let him know you were there. When he finishes, he places his hand over your own, opening his eyes as he looks down. His tears are flowing freely, and he leans into your touch when you wipe them from his cheeks.

    “I’ve been told that there is strength in a man that freely mourns, but… It’s silly. I can’t help but wish that I was stronger.” Kurt’s almost whispering as he speaks. You feel a lump form in your throat, your stinging eyes welling with tears for the countless time today. It hurts so unbelievably to see someone you love hurting so much, knowing that there is so little that you can do to make the pain go away, even if the loss is shared.

    “It’s not silly. I think that a lot of people feel the same- especially right now.” You say. You take hold of his left hand, tracing the cool metal band on his finger. You compare it to the one you wear, and find yourself thankful that the hand that bears his is still warm. You think of Rogue and Remy. The life they could’ve had together, if only they had been given more time. 

    You lean your head on Kurt’s shoulder, and he rests his head on top of your own. 

    “You don’t have to carry it alone.” You whisper eventually. Kurt says nothing, lacing his fingers between yours. “I know we haven't had a lot of time together lately, but as long as I’ve known you, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders- but you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I’m here for, remember?” Kurt laughs lightly at your words, squeezing your left hand before lifting it to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

    “You are a gift that I’m not entirely sure I deserve, my love,” Kurt says. You scoff at him, frowning now as you look up to meet his eyes.

    “Lying is a sin, Kurt.” You say playfully. His smile is blinding, and you gasp as Kurt Wagner of all people rolls his eyes at you. 

    “Even if it was a lie, which it isn’t, as long as I have you near, Schatz, Heaven will be in reach.”

[girlgenius1111]

adjustments + acceptance

Sol gets a new friend. Mapi... adjusts. pretty much entirely fluff. brief descriptions of a panic attack.

------

“Amor, are you sure about this?” Mapi asked, for probably the 10th time that morning. Ingrid just chuckled, looking sympathetically across the kitchen table at her girlfriend who had her black cat cradled close to her chest.

“María, you agreed already.” Ingrid implored, taking a sip of coffee to hide her smile at the older woman’s pouting.  

Mapi let out a heavy sigh, pressing a gentle kiss onto the cat’s forehead. “I don’t want a dog.” 

“I know, but Sol does. She wants one so badly she asked me if she could get one. You know what that means as well as I do, María.” 

Mapi threw her head back and groaned. “You’re very lucky I love your sister.” 

“I am very lucky.” Ingrid said, sending her girlfriend a soft, loving smile that the other woman instantly returned. Though after a second, she shook her head like she was pulling herself from a trance. 

“You Engens. You make a face and I give you whatever you want.” She said grumpily. “It is not fair.”

“Maybe you should grow a spine then, María,” Ingrid laughed. 

“You wouldn’t like it if I did,” Mapi teased, though she flushed red when Ingrid raised one eyebrow at her. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” She said matter of factly, and she was completely correct. Mapi wouldn’t dare. “Alright, I’ll go get her. Remember, María, this is a surprise. Don’t be weird, and don’t tell her where we’re going.”

“I know how to act normal, and I know how to keep a surprise a secret.” Mapi scowled. 

“You tried to throw me a surprise party last year and you were so weird, I thought you were breaking up with me.” Ingrid replied over her shoulder, leaving Mapi to sit and think with that one. 

The Spaniard couldn’t deny that Ingrid had a point. Mapi took a deep breath, putting on a smile that she hoped was normal, that certainly wasn’t, and waited for you to descend the stairs, soaking up her last few minutes with Bagheera as an only child.

------

Ingrid wouldn’t lie and claim she didn’t want a dog either. She absolutely did, and when you very timidly asked if it would ever be a possibility for you to get one, Ingrid had seized her chance. If Mapi had a soft spot for her, it was nothing compared to how she was with you. Ingrid wasn’t quite sure that her girlfriend had ever said no to you. 

You were confused as to where you were going, until Mapi pulled into a parking spot in front of a shelter, and you got out of the car faster than either of them thought was possible. Your excitement and hope was infectious as you waited impatiently for your sister and her girlfriend to get out of the car, too. 

“Are you guys being for real? You’re getting a dog?” You asked, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Mapi shook her head with a wry grin. 

“No, you’re getting a dog. I will play no part in the ruin of Bagheera’s life.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, pulling open the door to the building and gesturing you inside. 

As Ingrid followed you into the shelter, watching the growing grin on your face, she couldn’t hide her own smile. At your excitement, obviously, but also that she was finally getting her way. As she normally did.

Her and Mapi had done some recon, and had a couple dogs in mind that the shelter said were friendly and easy going. They greeted the shelter workers, who had been expecting them, and began to lead you back to one of the first dogs they had chosen. 

You didn’t even make it to the first option they’d selected. Instead, you stopped in your tracks at the third cage. Inside was a black and white border collie, a dog that initially Ingrid had considered. Though border collies were a lot of work, they were energetic and active. This one was a bit smaller than a normal one was, so Ingrid wasn’t worried about the size. As she had talked with the workers, though, she learned that he wasn’t very friendly, and he hadn’t shown any interest in anyone that had attempted to get to know him. 

He’d been found abandoned on the side of the road, just outside the city. There were no signs of abuse, but he was, at their estimate, between 3 and 5 years old, so it hadn’t been an unwanted puppy. He had a collar on, which said his name, but the address and phone number had been scratched off. This, along with the place he was left suggested that he had been… just that. Left. This traumatizing event had clearly left a mark on the little guy, and he was now exceptionally distrustful of every human that interacted with him. 

Over the course of the preliminary visit Ingrid had made to the shelter, she hadn’t seen him move from his spot wedged in the back of the cage, his deep brown eyes sullenly and apprehensively watching anyone who walked by. 

So, Ingrid had ruled that dog out, knowing you would want a dog that would be up for doing activities with you. 

Now, though, he was looking at you intently, his ears perked up on his head. 

“Hi, buddy,” you whispered, crouching down in front of the cage. He didn’t retreat further into himself, like he had done when Ingrid had watched the workers interact with him. He didn’t get up either, but he did scoot himself just a bit closer to you. Ingrid and Mapi stopped, exchanging looks, before they turned to the worker. 

“That’s Scout. He is very shy, and isn’t very receptive to anyone.” She explained, looking at you with pity, knowing the look on your face was one that meant you were already attached to him. 

“Can I meet him?” You asked, not looking away from the dog. 

Mapi opened her mouth to get you to move on but Ingrid nudged her, shaking her head. There was something about the way the dog was looking at you. Almost hopefully. 

“Of course, but he probably won’t let you near him. He’s like that with everyone, so don’t be offended.” The worker explained. 

You moved out of her way as she opened the door, before you carefully stepped in, taking a seat just inside the door against the wall. You regarded Scout carefully, watching as he sniffed the air in between the two of you with interest. 

“Hi Scout.” You said, holding your hand out for him to sniff. 

Mapi and the worker expected the dog to recoil, curl back up into a little ball in the corner of the room as far away from you as he could get. Ingrid wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t what occurred. 

Slowly, Scout got to his feet, stretching carefully before he padded softly forward, still very tentative, and sniffed your hand. 

All three of the adults outside the cage watched, astounded, as Scout gave your hand a lick. They all jumped, startled, when he bounded forward and launched himself at you. All three women flinched, expecting the worst from him. Instead of a surprise attack, though, he planted his paws firmly on your legs, and began eagerly licking at your face. His tail began to wag, and he looked like a completely different dog as you began to run your fingers through his fur. 

You were laughing, trying to get him to leave your face alone, and the sound seemed to only make him happier, only make him more eager. 

“Scout, no,” you laughed, pushing his head away gently. 

The other workers had come over to watch, and they were in complete awe when Scout stopped licking your face, and plopped down on the ground next to you, resting his head in your lap. Scout was famous at the shelter for not listening. He knew his name, clearly, but the dog didn’t follow any instructions. Ever. They thought he hadn’t been trained, but it appeared he just had been waiting for the right person to tell him what to do. 

You continued to pet his head, smiling down at him as he let out a very contented sigh, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Everyone in the building knew very well that there was nothing to be done, now. Scout had chosen you. And you’d chosen him. 

When you looked up at Ingrid and Mapi, the biggest smile on your face that they’d seen in a long time, neither of them could have even thought about saying no. 

You left the shelter that day with a very sweet new friend. He was perfect for you, truly. His breed was known to be energetic which was good for all the activities you liked to do. He was loyal, smart, and almost painfully adorable. You loved him instantly. And as Ingrid watched you both through the rearview mirror on the way home, she knew you’d made the right choice. There was something in his eyes that made our sister sure that he’d take care of you. Call her crazy, but dogs were weird like that, and she couldn’t help but think that this little guy had ended up in a shelter so he could someday be yours. 

-------

Scout was attached at the hip to you, having decided that you were safe, and though he slowly got used to Ingrid and Mapi, you were his person. 

And while Mapi understood that you loved him and he loved you, she wasn’t sure she could quite get over the change he brought to the house. He was slightly clumsy, always bumping into things and tripping her. He slept with his mouth open, and made little sounds as he snoozed, which bothered Mapi to no end. It grossed her out that he slept on your bed, and that he always tried to lick her legs when she came back from a run. 

Mapi wasn’t a dog person. She tolerated Scout, but she didn’t think she’d ever enjoy him, or be thankful for him. 

-------

Her biggest fear going into the whole dog thing, though, was that Bagheera would be upset. What actually happened was almost… worse, in Mapi’s opinion. 

The damn cat refused to hate the dog. No hisses. No well placed smacks to the nose with her paw. The first few days, Bagheera ignored him completely, though he was very intrigued by her. He wanted to be best friends, and she would have preferred to pretend he didn’t exist. 

After they spent more time together, though, it appeared that Bagheera warmed up to the clumsy dog, much to Mapi’s disdain. 

You and Ingrid caught her giving Bagheera a stern talking to one morning, after finding her curled up on the couch next to Scout. 

“You are not supposed to like dogs, Bagheera. It is against the rules. And you’re leaving me all alone here. I cannot be the only one that hates the stupid dog. He’s too big and too furry and too messy.” She ranted, scooping some food into Bagheera’s bowl. You and Ingrid tried to withhold your laughter from where you were standing in the hall just outside the kitchen, but were unsuccessful. 

A small giggle escaped you, and it was such an absurd sound that you and Ingrid burst even further into laughter, stumbling into the kitchen and right into the path of one very embarrassed, and very annoyed, Spaniard. She glared at you both, only sending you both into another fit of laughter, until you drew the attention of Scout, who clambered into the kitchen, wagging his tail like he always did when you laughed. 

“Oh perfect, now he’s going to make fun of me too.” Mapi scowled, crossing her arms over her chest in a very pouty manner. 

“We’re not making fun of you, María, I promise,” Ingrid began, avoiding eye contact with you so as not to laugh again. 

“You’re not?” Mapi asked, the crease in her forehead relaxing just slightly. 

And at the same time as Ingrid went to respond, Scout decided to use his voice as well. 

“No!” Ingrid said. 

“RUFF” Scout barked, his tail now wagging furiously as you collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. 

Ingrid tried to keep it together, really, but the prolonged eye contact with her furious partner proved to be too much, and she covered her face with her hand, body shaking silently. 

“I hate you all.” Mapi said grumpily, picking up Bagheera, who gave a disgruntled meow, and jumped right out of her arms. The cat walked slowly over to her new friend, standing right next to him, as if to make a point. “Traitor.” Mapi called, before storming out of the room. 

She shook her head at the loud laughter now erupting from the kitchen, and the occasional barks that joined it. She did wonder, though. Bagheera was a good judge of character. If she liked… him. He couldn’t be that bad, could he? 

-------

Ingrid was annoyed that Frido wanted to have a sleepover with you and not her. Mapi was annoyed because Ingrid was annoyed, and Scout was furious that you’d left him behind. He laid by the door for a solid hour, seemingly flabbergasted that you’d left with an overnight bag… and without him. Didn’t you know that he was supposed to be the light of your life? 

Eventually, though, he got tired of the doormat, and sulked into the family room where Ingrid and Mapi were watching a movie. He walked past Mapi, barely giving her a second look, before he jumped up on the couch without being invited, settling his head on Ingrid’s leg and sighing dramatically. Ingrid didn’t even flinch, just began to slowly stroke through the soft fur on the top of his head. 

“Ahem.” Mapi said, clearing her throat rather obviously. 

“Yes?” Ingrid asked, giving her girlfriend an amused look. 

“Dog. Dog on the couch.” Mapi said, looking exasperatedly at her girlfriend.“Without being invited. Ingrid, we have rules, the dog is not supposed to come on the couch unless he’s invited and I did not invite him.” Mapi whined, growing more annoyed when Ingrid just smirked at her. 

“He’s always invited when I’m up here, right Scout?” Ingrid cooed, smiling down at the dog when he began to wag his tail. 

Mapi rolled her eyes, but dropped the issue. She did scoot over, though, right up next to Ingrid, resting her head on the Norwegian’s shoulder, in an almost territorial fashion. Ingrid noticed, and smirked, but chose not to say anything. 

That one instance aside, there weren’t really any issues until it was time for bed, and Ingrid and Mapi were already under the covers, finishing the last steps of their nighttime routine. They had left your bedroom door open, expecting that Scout would sleep in there, as he normally did. 

He walked right in through their bedroom door, though, over to Ingrid’s side of the bed. He looked at her, then, his big brown eyes looking hopefully up at her. 

“No. Ingrid, no.” Mapi said, seeing very clearly what Scout wanted. 

“Mapi, he’s just a baby,” Ingrid said, unable to say no to the very adorable face staring at her. 

“He’s not a baby! He’s at least 3! That is 21 in dog years. A 21 year old does not need to sleep in our- INGRID NO.” 

Ingrid had very slyly patted the bed, inviting Scout up, though she made sure he laid at the very edge of the bed. 

“Make him get off.” Mapi whined, glaring at her girlfriend. 

“Oh, he’s fine, María, he’ll stay right there, won’t you, buddy?” Once Ingrid used the baby voice on him, Mapi knew there was no changing her mind. She sighed deeply, laying down and begrudgingly opening her arms for Ingrid to snuggle into, ignoring the grin on her partner’s face. 

“Goodnight, María, I love you,” Ingrid whispered into Mapi’s neck. 

“Love you too.” Mapi replied grumpily, causing a small laugh to fall from her girlfriend's lips. 

Scout remained at the edge of the bed for maybe 10 minutes before he moved a little closer to the women. 

10 minutes later, a little bit closer. 

When Ingrid and Mapi drifted off, he’d migrated up the bed, until his head was resting on one of Ingrid’s legs, and he had a paw on one of Mapi’s. 

And when Ingrid woke up the next morning? It was to discover a wide awake Mapi staring at her, and a very sleepy Scout still passed out. 

“Did you sleep well?” Ingrid tried, fighting back a smile. 

“Don’t even try. We are burning these sheets.” Mapi said, shifting just slightly in an attempt to dislodge the dog that was tucked perfectly under the covers up against her, his head resting on her pillow. It looked like they were cuddling, and Ingrid wished more than anything in the world that you were here to see it. “He is never allowed up here again.” 

“He’s sweet, María, really,” 

“Never. Again.” Mapi said, her eyebrows furrowed adorably. 

Ingrid knew that probably wouldn’t last, if the way Mapi was subconsciously petting the dog’s head was any indication, so she let it go for now, knowing it would just be a matter of time before Scout had Mapi wrapped around his finger. 

-------

And really, if there was a way to Mapi’s heart, it was through the two Norwegians in her life, that she loved very deeply. She tolerated Scout because he took care of her sol, and she’d come to love him, too, for the same reason. 

--------

You’d been doing so much better the past month or so. Knowing that you were here to stay had done wonders for your mental health, the threat of going back to Norway no longer hanging over your head. That didn’t mean that everything was perfect, though. 

You still had doubts, still sent yourself spiraling sometimes when you thought too much. Particularly about your mom. 

It was her birthday. Ingrid had assured you that you didn’t need to say anything to her, not if you didn’t want to. That had felt okay for most of the day. It was when you were left to your own devices, though, that you began to overthink, and began to doubt. 

She’d missed your birthday and she hadn’t cared. You pictured her face, though, everytime you closed your eyes. Not her face, but her face. Nice Mom’s face. The mom that loved you, the mom that cut the crusts off your sandwiches, and held your hand when you crossed the street. Maybe this mom had never really existed, maybe she had just been… doing the bare minimum. Still, though, you’d spent many years thinking that she’d loved you. And you spent many more years wondering how you could get Nice Mom back. 

It was Nice Mom you thought about that evening, while Ingrid and Mapi were off at a match. You’d stayed back, having an endless amount of homework to complete. This proved to be a mistake, and you knew that the minute you began to breathe a little too hard. The minute the thoughts started returning, the ones that told you that if your mother didn’t love you, no one would. The ones that told you that you were unwanted. Unlovable. Too much trouble. Not worth it. Bad. Bad bad bad. 

You didn’t notice that you were crying until Scout was licking the tears off your face, and you didn't notice you were shaking until you began to pet him and your hands trembled against his fur. 

It still felt unnatural to ask for help, to not just deal with it yourself. But in the time that you’d been accepting comfort and love from Ingrid and Mapi, it seemed that you no longer could deal with it yourself. You needed them, all of a sudden, which was a thought terrifying in and of itself. Still, you pressed the call button before you could think too hard, hoping more than anything that the match was over, and that your sister would answer.

“Hi Solstråle! We’re on our way home. What’s up?” 

“How far are you?” You mumbled, shutting your eyes tightly and gripping onto the duvet cover under you. 

“About 10. Is everything okay?” Ingrid asked, a touch of concern entering her voice. It was dumb, but she’d scored a goal today, which wasn’t a regular event, and the fact that you hadn’t commented on it when you were the first to celebrate her goals was slightly worrying. 

“No. I- I can’t-. No, please hurry.” You told her, biting your lip as it trembled, wishing you could just be strong enough for yourself for once. 

“Oh, honey.” Ingrid said sympathetically. 

“We’ll be there as soon as we can, mi sol, I promise.” Mapi said, hitting the accelerator until she was definitely speeding. “How bad is this one?” 

“Bad. Can’t breathe.” You whimpered, digging your nails into your leg in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. 

“We’re right here, solstråle, you’re okay, I promise.” Ingrid said, desperate to help in any way she could. 

Now, all that could be heard over the speaker was your rapid breathing, and both girls knew you were past the point of being able to respond. They took turns talking to you, with no confidence that it would help. When you got like this, you needed physical contact to bring you out of it, a fact they were well aware of. 

What they didn’t know, though, was that Scout had taken matters into his own…paws, apparently unimpressed with your grounding technique. Or, maybe he could just sense your distress, and did the only thing his rather small brain could think of. First, he put his head on your leg, a regular position for him to lay, and you barely noticed it. Then, though, he put a paw up as well. It wasn’t until he had both paws resting on your leg, licking your skin every so often, that you opened your eyes and looked down at him. He looked completely relaxed, and in a truly miserable shot in the dark, you began to run your fingers through his fur. 

It was soothing, the soft fur and the steady beat of his heart under you. Amazingly, you could feel yourself trying to slow down your breathing, feeling yourself calming down just slightly. Enough that you could try the techniques you’d learned in therapy, and enough that you registered when the front door opened downstairs. 

Help had arrived, but you weren’t quite sure you needed it anymore. 

Ingrid and Mapi rushed up the stairs, expecting you to be in a state they’d only seen a couple times, but hated nonetheless. Instead, they were greeted with the sight of you on your bed, Scout sprawled across your lap, though he was much too big for it, a much calmer look on your face than made sense. 

You gave them a weak smile, looking down at Scout, who, in turn, looked at them. He was just a dog, but his eyes were expressive, and Ingrid could swear he was judging them for leaving you home alone on such a day. Ingrid knew, almost instantly, how you’d managed to calm down without them.  

Mapi evidently came to the same conclusion, because when her and Ingrid took their spots on either side of you, pressing kisses onto your forehead, and wrapping you up in a tight hug, Mapi focused first on Scout. 

“Buen chico, Scout” she murmured, smoothing the fur on the top of his head. You and Ingrid exchanged smiles, while Mapi focused on the soft fur under her hand, and the protective way in which Scout laid across your legs. She decided, then, that maybe he wasn’t so bad. She could do more than tolerate him, if he was this effective. And tomorrow, she decided, you were going to the pet store and picking out a new toy for him. And maybe a couple treats. 

Anything for her sol, and apparently, anything for your Scout. 

------

:)

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 25/∞

VIOLENCE AS COURTSHIP IS A PART OF DEMON CULTURE

Rating: CANON

A nearly universal trope, especially in Moshang fics, is the fact that courtship is performed through violence in demon culture, and that the misunderstandings between the pair are because of cultural differences. The fact that demons mistreat the targets of their affection is canon, however, it is important for fans to note that this sort of characterization and worldbuilding is rooted in racial and ethnic stereotypes.

This is one of the most-requested topics I've ever written on this blog, and I took a long time to think about how best to approach the subject in a way that both keeps to the intention of this blog (referencing canon & providing quotes) as well as raising awareness to the very real problematic aspects of what is a well-loved and often-used trope in fanon that I don't think most western fans are aware of.

First, the canon analysis:

“If you hold unique feelings for a certain person, how can you make them understand your intentions?” Luo Binghe asked. Obviously, no one dared to tear down Luo Binghe’s facade and expose him directly, but this question was really very…unsuited to the demonic approach. After a long moment, not a single person had answered. In fact, the answer was so simple that any normal human could have given it to you. If you liked someone, you should just tell them. Unfortunately, there was not a single “normal” person on the scene—and aside from Shang Qinghua, there also were no “humans” either. Mobei-Jun thought about it. With the paths his mind was given to take, there was no telling how he had interpreted “unique” feelings. “Beat them up three times a day?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Most of the fandom remembers this passage, and some may think that this is where the interpretation of violence as courtship comes from-- however, that is not the case. This passage might actually not refer to courtship at all-- while that is one possible interpretation, Mobei-jun could also be interpreting "unique feelings" to mean something different than "romantic feelings," since Luo Binghe didn't specify romance directly.

The "violent demonic courtship" idea actually originates much earlier in the novel, just after the invasion of Qiong Ding Peak:

In truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t intend to tease; he thought himself very straightforward. The one who’d tampered with Luo Binghe’s dream realm was Sha Hualing. Though she did have some harmful intentions, her underlying motive was obvious. Naturally, she was driven by a young girl’s secret yearning for love. Otherwise, she would have directed her aggressions toward others, not specifically Luo Binghe. Demons were compelled to viciously bully the person they liked. Only if the object of their affections failed to die would the demon accept them. If their target died, that meant they were useless and not worth nursing any lingering affections for. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

This, in fact, has somewhat more serious connotations than the way I have often seen it interpreted in fanworks-- it is not merely beating up a potential partner, but pushing them to their limits, nearly driving them to death, and it is certainly implied that it is not uncommon for the object of a demon's affections to actually die.

Now that the canonical basis of the idea has been established, let us move on to the second, and arguably more important part of this post: the racism.

I would like to add a disclaimer here-- I am going to discuss this in hopes of raising more awareness in the fandom, but I am not North/West/Central Asian myself, so I will only mention things in brief and somewhat generally-- if anyone who belongs to the affected cultures would like to make corrections, or more detailed explanations, or any other additions to this post on this topic, I greatly welcome that, as I feel it is an important issue that should be addressed.

In Chinese fiction, particularly fantasy genres like xianxia/xuanhuan/xiuzhen, but also in historical and wuxia fiction, there is a pervasive, prevalent tendency for authors to use racial and ethnic stereotypes against Central, Northern, and Western Asian cultures such as Mongolian & Arab cultures in their worldbuilding regarding the North, while stereotypes against Southeast Asian cultures are used in worldbuilding regarding the South. These stereotypes are most typically applied to villains and villainous groups, and are so widespread as to be ubiquitous within the genre. MXTX has used these tropes before-- notably with the Banyue people in TGCF, with adaptations of both TGCF and MDZS including design stereotypes, such as CQL's portrayal of the Qinghe Nie (combining their tendency toward violence and 'unnatural' cultivation method, with design traits typically associated with Northern/Central Asian cultures).

It is worth noting, though, that most authors do not intentionally use these traits as racist stereotypes in their worldbuilding, especially when regarding a non-human species-- in the same way that western fantasy authors use goblin and orc characters and tropes without realizing or acknowledging their racist origins and connotiations, these stereotypes have simply become genre tropes without that direct connection to their origins. Nonetheless, it is still worth noting-- and worth trying not to fall into the trap of leaning into stereotypical traits in fanworks' character portrayals.

Stereotypes include but are not limited to barbaric and brutish cultural traits, association with animals/having animal features, dark or corrupt magical/spiritual practices, certain types of braided hairstyles & other fashion choices, and originating from the far north or south.

Some of the prejudice and stereotyping of Northern Asian cultures likely originates from the fact that in the past, China was invaded and subjugated by peoples from the north (under Mongolian rule during the Yuan dynasty, and under Manchurian rule during the Qing dynasty) as well as having many conflicts with these peoples throughout history. In fact, the Qing dynasty only ended in the early 1900s, so some of this oppression is still in recent memory-- nonetheless, people belonging to ethnic minorities in China are still affected by this negative stereotyping today, so regardless of the origin, racism is still racism and should be addressed, and China today is a majority Han Chinese nation-- even if Han Chinese are considered a minority and affected by systemic racism in other places in the world.

Additionally, many tropes specifically applied to the southern demons, but also used for demon culture as a whole, are tied to stereotypical portrayals of Southeast Asian culture, which is rooted in a long history of Imperial China's invasion and oppression.

All of those stereotypes listed above apply to SVSSS' demon culture. Even in Mobei-jun's name-- 漠北 meaning "northern desert," which is the real-world name for a region in the north of the Gobi desert in Mongolia.

Therefore, it is important to remember that though violence-as-courtship in demon culture is canonical within SVSSS' setting, it nonetheless originates from harmful racial and ethnic stereotypes. It would be a good idea for fans to keep this in mind when creating their fanworks, and to treat the topic with sensitivity-- but I will leave any direct suggestions on how to handle this to those who are actually part of the affected groups.

--

(thanks to @flidgetjerome for additional notes regarding SEAsian stereotyping and author intent!)

Also, to be absolutely clear: I am not saying that svsss’ demons are specifically coded as any real ethnic group— it’s only that in many ways the portrayal is similar to the common portrayal of various ethnic groups in cmedia. I don’t believe they are specifically meant to parallel a real life group, unlike for example TGCF’s Banyue— but it’s worth questioning why these traits, why these characters.

[asilentsongbird]

For you, I think I would learn how to love

For my lovely anon who asked for husband Neuvillette, I bring you a whole fic. This man has me in a chokehold and I need everyone to know how much I love him.

Pairing: Neuvillette x fem! Reader Word Count: ~7k

Summary: Tired of waiting for you to find a husband, your parents find one for you. One who happens to be the Chief Justice of Fontaine. A new city, a new life, a new husband. So much new, and you could only hope, deep in your heart, that you would find happiness and love in Fontaine.

The first time you meet him, it's rather formal.

It's not as though you have much of an option. Though you certainly couldn't say you expected when you woke up to be told that your parents had found a husband for you, and that you'd be married in a week.

They had been pushing marriage lately, saying you were the right age, but the thought had been far from your mind. You thought you still had time, and the next thing you knew, you were being brought to Fontaine.

It's certainly different from Liyue. The hills and mountains are different from the Stone Forrest. The air feels different, there's water heavy in it.

You wait, in an ornate room that feels much too fancy. You've been left alone for a brief moment, the most your parents have allowed since you were told the news.

Part of you wonders if you could escape if you jumped out the window. A quick glance told you that it was much too high to entertain that idea. You'd end up breaking a leg before you got out of this marriage.

The door opens. A man appears, with long white hair with blue streaks in it. Simply from his appearance, you can tell that this is someone important. Your spine straightens as sharp eyes land on you, zeroing in on you.

You felt small, for a moment. As though he was judging you for simply existing in a space you'd rather not be in. Though your parents didn't care if you had plans or wished to find a husband on your own.

The man doesn't say anything. He closes the door behind him with a click, and makes his way over to you. Despite the desire to shrink back, you stand your ground, until he finally stands before you.

Up close you can see more details. He towers over you in height, but you suppose most people would feel short compared to him. His eyes capture your attention the most, the pupils such a strange shape, but gorgeous nevertheless.

"I apologize for leaving you waiting," he starts, almost looking as lost as you on how to start.

You wave your hands frantically in front of you. "It's fine! I didn't expect anyone to come in. I was told I would be meeting-"

Saying future husband felt much too strange. The man in front of you notices your pause, and arches a single silver brow. You frantically try to remember the name of the man who is meant to be your fiance.

"Ah, sorry, I was meant to meet a Mister Neuvillette?" your voice stumbles awkwardly over the new word, still struggling with the accent.

On the trip to Fontaine, your parents had tried to give you lessons on the language, as though you would become fluent in the few hours it took to travel.

The man blinks. And then he blinks again, as though he's trying to figure out what you just said.

Apparently the lessons hadn't worked.

"Sorry, my accent needs work," you apologize. "I hear he's the Chief Justice?"

The man nods, slowly. "That is correct."

You hum, non-committal, waiting to see if your company decides to keep the conversation going. When he doesn't, you find yourself unable to think of words.

Well, this felt awkward. And from the way the man still seemed at a loss for words, he also felt the same.

The tension could almost cut a knife.

He clears his throat after a moment, the sound almost makes you jump.

"Yes, well..." he pauses, gesturing towards the couch. "I am sure monsieur Neuvillette will be here soon."

You take a seat near him. Not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough that it would be clear that you were talking.  Maybe "monsieur Neuvillette" will see the two of you and decide that this marriage wasn't something he wanted a part of.

"Congratulations on your engagement," your new friend tells you after a moment. You give him a tight lipped smile.

"Thanks."

Once again, silence descends over you two. You fidget with your skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from travel. Hopefully, it wasn't something your new husband would be upset about.

At least the silence didn't feel as oppressive this time. You let yourself relax, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

The man beside you nods. You still haven't gotten his name yet, you realize. You'd have to ask later, after some other questions. Who knows when your parents and future husband will be coming.

"Um...how is Neuvillette?" you tentatively ask, to which you only receive a rather blank, if not curious look.

You suppose you'll have to be more direct. Though it almost pains you.

But at least, if he's not kind, you would like a warning. Some way to prepare yourself for what the rest of your life is going to be like. Some women, they don't even get that. They were woken up on the day of their wedding, and the rest of their lives was at the whims of their husbands.

You steel yourself, and fully turn your attention to your friend.

"Is he kind?"

Something in him softens at that. He looks at you with an emotion that you can't recognize in that moment. Pity, maybe?

He opens his mouth, but before you can get your answer, the door opens.

Your parents lean in for a moment, see you sitting on the couch, talking to a stranger, but strangely have nothing bad to say about that. In fact, they look delighted.

"Are you two getting along well?" your mother asks you, somewhat reminding you of a cat just having caught a bird.

The satisfaction on her face made you uneasy, like there was a secret you were missing.

"Fine, thank you," your friend replied for you when you couldn't manage words. "Your daughter is very polite."

Your parents beam at that. The uneasy feeling in your stomach gets worse.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette."

Somehow, it hadn't dawned on you. Your stomach feels like it falls into the floor, but Neuvillette doesn't seem to have any other reaction, looking at your parents. They don't even wither under his stare.

You never wanted to shrink into the floor more. You had just asked your future husband about himself. And more than that, you asked him if he was kind.

Your parents talk with Neuvillette, allowing you a moment to feel invisible and wallow in your self-pity and embarrassment.

At least, until you feel a small tug on the sleeve of your blouse.

It's one of the melusines, you had found them to be very cute upon first seeing them. Your parents hadn't explained much about them, so you found yourself blinking down at the small melusine.

"He is," she says to you, nodding.

You tilt your head to the side. Briefly, you feel eyes on you, but when you look at your parents, they're still talking to Neuvillette, and taking his attention.

"He's what?"

She hands you a long ribbon. It's a deep, ocean blue, the same color that Neuvillette is wearing.

"He is kind," she explains, patiently, as though you were a child. "I heard you ask."

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, especially as she climbed up next to you, weaving the ribbon through your hair, and both your parents and Neuvillette turned to stare.

"Y/N, that is very rude to ask," your mother scolds, because that is the lot of women in life, only to worry about when men think of you and what might make you undesirable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Nonsense, it is a very reasonable question to ask. Why wouldn't someone want to know who they're marrying?" Neuvillette cuts in, before your mother can scold you any more.

Your parents fall silent, nodding their heads in agreement as though they hadn't been about to lecture you like a child. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the Melusine finishing with your hair.

"There," she says, with her self imposed job done. "Will you be having a wedding?"

You weren't sure your heart could take any more surprises today. Your cheeks hadn't even lost their blush from the first moment, at this point you didn't think they'd ever go back to their normal color.

"We'll have to see," you murmur, because you weren't completely sure yourself.

She nods, taking in your word and opinion as though it was law. Neuvillette didn't contradict you either, but did finally turn back to your parents.

You don't get too much of a chance to participate in most of the conversation. The Melusine, Sedene, as you learned the name of, asks you more questions that keep you occupied.

It's a welcome distraction. It's better than awkwardly listening to a conversation about your future where at least two of the three people here wouldn't even care for your input.

The jury was still out on Neuvillette.

Eventually though, it grew late, late enough that Sedene was sleeping with her head on your lap. It seemed that finally the other three were tired of negotiating over your life.

Before you knew it, you looked up from your lap just in time to see Neuvillette leave without even a goodbye, the door clicking behind him. Your parents look much too pleased with themselves, which you somehow didn't think was possible.

"I told you, the match would be a good one," your mother tells your father, pride seeping into her voice.

You're not so sure. You can't be sure. At least not yet.

"Yes," your father agrees, with the same fond voice he always had when he didn't want to argue with your mother, and it's easier just to agree.

It seems, just like the foundation of Liyue, that your future is set in stone.

You hope Fontaine will be kind to you.

-x-x-x-x-

You do not have a wedding.

It's actually fine with you. More than fine, really. Apparently as Chief Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette is well liked and popular. The amount of people you'd have to invite to the wedding would be too many for you.

So you simply don't. You sign a document and in the eyes of the law, and of Neuvillette, that is enough.

Though a part of you aches that you will never have the traditional Liyuen wedding you dreamed of as a child. But you suppose that dreams of childhood should stay there.

You move into Neuvillette's home. Fontaine comes as a culture shock, almost.

The amount of times you get absolutely lost in this fish-bowl of a city manages to astound even you.

It's not your fault, really. Liyue Harbor is easy to navigate, warm and welcoming. In Fontaine, the streets all somehow manage to look the same, though the shops sell things you never even thought of. At some point, you're pretty sure you even see a woman standing outside of a building with a mechanical bird.

You end up seeing other Melusines more than your new husband. You don't really blame him for this, his job is important and needed, so each day he bids you a single "good morning" along with a look you couldn't decipher, as he heads to the Opera House.

That's a whole other thing about Fontaine that you still haven't investigated.

It's not as though you're upset that you don't see Neuvillette often. But he is one of the few people that you know here, and it doesn't take long for you to be lonely in the new city, without any of your friends.

Though you find the Meluine's to be kind. They help you when you get lost, and press small gifts into your palms as they take your hands to lead you around.

They tell you to tell Neuvillette to take some time off work. To spend some time with you. You nod and agree that you'll tell him the next time you see him.

But when the man quickly leaves in the morning and doesn't return until late, you never really get a chance to.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he'd been avoiding you.

It's like that for almost a month. He says good morning, disappears, and you wander the city to familiarize yourself with it. He never comes home until the sun has almost set, and night is almost there, while you wander until the rain finally starts for the day.

You asked the Melusine's about it once, commenting that there wasn't so much rain in Liyue. They tell you of the hydro dragon and the tears it cries. You hope that someday you will get to meet this dragon and see what makes them so sad.

At least, it stays like that until it doesn't, as most things tend to do.

You were lost, which wasn't too much of a surprise, but unlike the times before, there were no Melusine's to bring you back home or to a place you knew. The rain had started earlier today, earlier than anyone seemed to expect, and before you knew it, you were huddled in an alley, your clothing absolutely soaked and shivers running down your spine from the wet and the cold.

You missed Liyue. You missed your friends, your parents, you missed the smells and sounds of the harbor. Tears burned in your eyes and mixed with the rain on your cheeks.

Standing there simply isn't going to fix things though, so you eventually left your small, but dry, protection, and decided to finally figure out this city.

Your confidence fades the longer you walk around.

It takes almost two hours of wandering around in the rain until you finally recognize something. Not the path home, but to the first place you ever meet Neuvillette, despite not knowing at the time.

You push open the door. It's late, though that doesn't seem to mean the place is devoid of life. Wrapping shaking arms around yourself, you spot a sliver of light coming from Neuvillette's office.

It felt much too late to be working, but perhaps it was Sedene, fixing up things. Tentatively, you knock on the door, and the faint scratching of a pen against paper suddenly stopped.

Suddenly, this felt like a mistake. You took a single step back, but before you could change your mind and leave, the door swung open and Neuvillette stood there, a look of mild concern on his face.

Neither of you spoke. Neuvillette looks you up and down, brows furrowing, and you realize all at once that you must look like a sight, absolutely soaked and dripping water on the floor. If you weren't so cold, your cheeks would be flushed.

"Why are you here?" he asks, glancing around as though that would provide him with the answer.

Your shoulders slump. You can't really explain why. Maybe it's the disappointment  at the sight of you, or the lack of a warm welcome. Not 'what happened to you' or 'why are you soaking wet' but instead a question that felt almost like he questioning your presence in general.

"I-um," you stutter through chattering teeth, "I got lost and didn't know where to go."

That felt like an understatement of what happened, but you weren't sure how else to answer the question.

Neuvillette didn't seem to know either.

When he didn't say anything more, you shifted from foot to foot, wincing at the cold and the squish of wetness. You'd be lucky if you didn't get sick, after this.

"You got lost?" he finally asks, as though the concept was foreign to him.

You don't know what to say, so you shrug, peering around him. It seemed Sedene had already left for today, and there went your hope for an escort home.

"The streets all look the same to me," you manage, shivering again. "Uh-you can just tell me which way to go, and I'll get out of your hair. I didn't mean to be a bother."

"And why didn't you ask anyone for help? Anyone could have told you where I live."

The question almost comes out cold, for how logical it is. You huff, a small noise of frustration. All you wanted at the moment was to get out of these wet clothes and to be warm again. But it seems that isn't going to happen any time soon.

"Never mind," you murmur, suddenly so tired. Of course he wouldn't understand why you wouldn't want to ask for help. Your Fontainian was still in it's learning stage, and while you could ask a couple of questions with a thick accent, you had no idea how to ask someone to lead you home.

Plus, wouldn't it reflect badly on him, to have a wife who didn't even know how to return home? But you supposed, if it didn't matter to him, then it shouldn't matter to you.

"I'll see you at home, then," you murmur, turning on your heel to leave.

It was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment. The rain seemed to be coming down even harder, you could hear the thunderous roar of rain against the roof as you went to the main door.

A little more rain wouldn't hurt, and you were pretty sure you knew the way home from here.

You step out into the rain, but surprisingly, you don't get any wetter than before. The rain hits something above you, and you glance up to see an umbrella.

Neuvillette stands slightly behind you, umbrella extended over you. You still hadn't stopped shivering, teeth clattering together. Neuvillette almost looks pained as he looks down at you.

"You'll catch your death out here," he says, as though that explains everything.

And then, in true Fontaine fashion, he extends his arm out to you to link your own through, a true and proper escort.

You take it, if only for the stability. And maybe the warmth. And also the umbrella is hardly big enough for two, if you don't stand close, then Neuvillette would get wet as well.

That's the only reason.

He makes quick work of the walk home, and you were almost dismayed by how close you had been the entire time. By the time you walk up the steps, still shivering from  the cold, the rain had finally stopped, the sky clearing to reveal the stars.

"I shall make you something to eat while you dry off," he says, as though it is the law of the land.

You wonder if that is how he sounds in court, when he's trying the cases. You almost want to argue just for the sake of it.

But being dry and having a warm meal sounds much too good to ignore, so you only nod, and go to change your clothes. You debate on taking a bath, the call of the warm water ends up being much too tempting for you.

You emerge feeling like a new person. The water washes away the feelings of the day, and the coldness in your bones. You emerge feeling like a new person, if not a bit more tired and ready for bed than before.

Neuvillette is true to his words. Your hair drips with water as you peek into the kitchen, only to find him sitting at the table, waiting, with two bowls of soup in front of him.

"Come," he says when you don't move forward. You do as asked, sitting beside him and inhaling the rich aroma of the soup.

You had found here that the food varied greatly from what you were used to in Liyue. It certainly wasn't bad, but it was an adjustment. Even the soup was a bit creamier than you were used to, but you ate it eagerly, allowing it to chase away whatever lingering chills the bath hadn't rid you of.

"I'd like to apologize," Neuvillette starts, his own food barely touched, like it's an afterthought for him.

You tilt your head, exhaustion falling over you from the soup and warmth. "For what?"

He looks embarrassed. It's a rather cute look on the normally stoic man. Neuvillette struggles for words, almost seeming to give the words spoken to you the same value that he gives to the court.

"I was not aware that you were struggling to adjust here, I should have foreseen such an event occurring."

He almost looks upset, suddenly. You understand, at least you think you understand. It must be hard having a wife who couldn't even navigate the city of your home.

"It's okay, I'll do better in the future," you reassure, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder as you stand.

It's the first bit of contact you've had since you were married and he placed a kiss upon your cheek at your parents badgering. He looks a bit annoyed though, so you retract your hand to not make him more uncomfortable.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that I should have been here to help you adjust."

"Oh," you say, honestly confused. "it's alright. You're very important here, I don't want to be a bother when you're so busy."

Your words seem to have the opposite of your intended desire. If anything, he looks more upset, leaving you with a rather sour taste in your mouth.

You seemed to be more of an inconvenience than you had even considered.

You hoped this wouldn't turn into an argument. You were tired from wandering and walking for hours, from being caught out in the rain. You rested your head on your hand, trying to think of something to say.

Before your tired mind could think of anything, Neuvillette sighed, a long suffering thing that sounded much older than he must be.

"You should go to bed."

You don't need to be told twice. You take your dish to the sink, leaving it there to be washed by you in the morning. Neuvillette rises, though it seems more to see you off than to actually leave.

"Good night, y/n," he says quietly, still as upset as before.

"Good night, monsieur Neuvillette."

You fall asleep as soon as you're tucked underneath the covers of your bed. You wonder if it's the bed that you're meant to share with your husband, but he never joins you.

And that's fine with you.

-x-x-x-x-

He's still there, in the morning.

It's a sight that makes you freeze coming out of your bedroom, just able enough to peek down the hall and see him in the same place as last night, at the kitchen table. He holds the paper in his hands, the same one that you've seen just about everyone in Fontaine obsessed with.

Did you wake up early? A quick glance at the time told you no, that in fact you had woken up later than normal. Neuvillette was meant to be long gone by now, off to court.

As though sensing your stare, the paper falls, and startling purple eyes lock onto you.

"Ah, you're awake."

You nod, because what else are you going to do? Neuvillette folds the paper back into its  original shape.

"Let me know when you are ready to leave."

Well, you couldn't say you expected that to happen. You nod after a second, before disappearing to get yourself ready.

While you don't look your best, at least you aren't soaked and shaking. Really, the amount of time that you've spent with Neuvillette could be counted on one hand, and you did not like the thought of one of those times being when you were in such a sorry state.

A little bit later, you were back by Neuvillette, looking at him with nothing short of confusion as he prepares to leave.

Oh, the disappointment aches for a moment. Like a child being promised a treat only to have it taken away.

"Well? Come along then."

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You take a few, tentative steps forward, until he offers you his hand.

You take it, after a moment, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Don't you have court to attend to?" you ask, as he leads you outside.

"I have sent notice that I will be taking today off. I have recently become aware that my wife needs a tour of Fontaine, and I consider that a much more pressing item on my agenda."

Your cheeks color. You can't tell if it's at being called Neuvillette's wife, or from how he doesn't let go of your hand even when you walk outside.

Before you can ask him if he's sure, if he can really take time off, Neuvillette gestures down the street, and begins what has to be one of the most in depth tours of Fontaine to exist.

This time, getting lost in the sights and sounds is fun. Neuvillette explains every building you pass, the history behind it, and what is happening there now. He lets you pull him in random directions when something catches your eye, and answers every question that you can even think of.

It's fun. Neuvillette is well liked by the people, and suddenly that seems to mean you're well liked as well. The food vendors give you free samples, pressing them into your palm and insisting that you take it despite your protests.

Even the Melusine's stop, chatting with you more than Neuvilllette, much to his surprise. He even comments that you know their names, and seems very ashamed when you point out that you've spent more  time with them instead of him.

You feel like you can actually navigate the city, by the time the sun is setting. Your bones ache from the exhaustion that the excitement has left you with. When Neuvillette notices, he starts herding you home, despite your protests.

The last thing you want is for the day to end. Going back to how it was before seems unbearable now that you know how it could be. If Neuvillette knows of your plight, he says nothing of it.

He simply wishes you a good night, and lets you head to bed.

If it's a dream, you hope that you will remember every detail of it.

-x-x-x-x-

Things don't change after that, much to your relief.

Neuvillette stays in the morning, talking with you sometimes. Most of the time he reads, while you make coffee for yourself, and subsequently him. He likes it with two sugars, no milk.

The information feels nice to have. Especially when, on the very, very rare occasions you wake up before him, you can have a hot cup of coffee waiting for him.

The little things before you grow before anything else. Conversations in the morning. Coffee. Neuvillette bringing you home treats that you love, especially the conch madeleines.

There are other things, as well. When you mention missing a certain dish from Liyue, Neuvillette goes out of his way to procure it for you. You're not sure how he manages to do it, but if it means you can get slow cooked bamboo shoot soup whenever you like, then you're happy not to know.

He comes home earlier, as well. As soon as the case is done for the day, it feels like he's on his way to find you. You're happy to do just that, telling him of everything you managed to do during the day, or whatever else is going on in your head that you want to share.

Neuvillette always listens. And he remembers. You mention once, in an off handed comment, about how beautiful you thought the rainbow roses of Fontaine were.

The next day, you woke up to a bouquet of them at your bedside.

You do your best to return the favor, going to collect him at the Opera house when his day is finished.

When you were younger, you read stories of people falling in love instantly, with a single look and it was easy from there.

You think now, as a married woman, that the stories are wrong. Love comes in the small gestures, in the moments spent together.

-x-x-x-x-

It's pouring rain outside. A heavy downpour that has been going on for the last hour.

It's also the time Neuvillette normally comes home, but it doesn't seem that way today. The change in routine throws you off more than you'd like to admit.

You wait another half hour before you grab your cloak, a heavy thing that Neuvillette insisted on buying you so you wouldn't get soaked in the rain any longer, and head out to the Opera House.

You're not too fond of the aquabuses here. They're faster than walking, but something about them feels so awkwardly slow. But with a bit of tension in your shoulders, you bite down the complaints and make small talk with the Melusine piloting the aquabus as you arrive.

Neuvillette only took you over here once, to show you the Fountain of Lucine. You suppose, on another level, it was also to make sure that you knew where the Opera House was in case you needed him and didn't want to get lost.

You're thankful for his planning.

Everyone else has already left, except for a very dedicated couple by the fountain, praying for blessings upon their child. You wonder if someday that will be you, but dismiss the thought with a blush.

It takes you much too long to find Neuvillette. For a man who cuts such an imposing figure, you wander around in the rain looking for him for much longer than needed. Eventually though, you find him at the back of the Opera House, standing in the rain as though he doesn't notice it.

"Neuvillette?" you call, quiet, as to not startle him. It seems you do so anyways, from how he jumps. "Are you alright?"

He nods, but doesn't speak. You reach out to take a gloved hand, everything about him feels cold.

You lead him back home, and he follows you as though he has no mind for anything else. It takes too long to get home but also not enough time. You hold his hand the entire way.

"Was court today rough?" you finally ask, when you're in the security of your shared home. Neuvillette lets out a hum, not agreeing but not disagreeing either.

You usher him to the bathroom to clean himself up, and go to make something warm, when the irony of the situation hits you all at once, because it must have only been a few months ago that Neuvillette did the same thing for you.

It felt nice to have the roles  switched.

 Neuvillette doesn't seem hungry, so you usher him into your own bed, since truthfully you've been suspicious that he's been sleeping on the couch or at his desk in his office to prevent you from feeling uncomfortable.

You sit down, and urge him to lay his head in your lap. You brush your fingers through his slightly damp hair, and you hum a Liyuen lullaby your mother used to sing to you.

Neuvillette never talks about court. You asked him once and only once about it, curious since everyone in Fontaine seemed to think that the cases were some kind of show. But Neuvillette had simply said that it was very usual, and not worth discussing.

At the time, you took him at his word. Now though, you wonder if it's something more.

"I believe an innocent man was sentenced today," Neuvillette says, after a moment. His voice is so soft, you almost can't hear it under the pouring rain outside.

"Is that so?" you ask, a silent prompt. Does he want to continue? Or leave it there?

He sighs after only a second, pressing further against your hand in his hair. Like a cat seeing attention.

"I'm sure it will be resolved soon, I simply need to investigate things more."

You nod, remaining silent. Neuvillette doesn't explain more, but eventually, as his breathing evens out, the rain comes to a stop outside.

You can't bring yourself to move. It would no doubt wake up Neuvillette, and that seemed like the last thing anyone needed. So you settled amongst the pillows, and close your eyes.

If you wake up tomorrow, still close to another and sleepy limbs tangled together, you said nothing of it. Neither does Neuvillette.

After that though, your bed becomes just the bed, and you're not opposed to that at all.

-x-x-x-x-

The Fountain of Lucine ends up being one of your favorite places in Fontaine. Not for any particular reason, you tell yourself, it's simply pretty to look at.

And that's not a lie. It is pretty to look at, and it's fun to visit and listen to expecting parents wish for good things for their children. It was nice to see the sights and sounds without the hustle and bustle of the city.

The first time you end up going out though, you can't say you had the most pleasant experience.

You had gotten the idea in your head, perhaps you were too bored lately, that you should visit Neuvillette at work and bring him lunch. So you packed a small bag, and made the journey.

Only to be stopped at the entrance of the Opera House by one of the gardes.

"Court is in session, no one is allowed in, miss, without a ticket."

Your head tilts to the side, truly puzzled. A ticket? People bought tickets to court, as though it was a show?

"I'm not going to see the court, I came to drop something off for Neuvillette," you explain to the man, holding up the small box.

The man eyes it with a bit of suspicion, and part of you almost wants to ask if he really thinks you've poisoned it. Another part of you is sure that if you ask, you will absolutely get accused of that.

"That's nice, miss, but you still can't go in. I'm sure you know monsieur Neuvillette has many admirers, and we can't stop court simply because you wish to give him a gift."

Wow. You weren't even sure how to unpack that. You crossed your arms over your chest, not budging.

"I am his wife, here to bring him lunch. Do you want to explain to Neuvillette tomorrow about how you banned his wife from visiting him.?"

The man, you still haven't even gotten his name yet, isn't looking at you any more. He's looking behind you, a look of mild panic on his face.

Oh, this was going to be just like one of those soap operas back in Liyue, wasn't it? You knew without looking who was going to be there.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" he said, giving the salute of Fontaine. "I was just telling this young woman that we do not allow visitors during court."

"That is true," Neuvillette says, you can almost hear a bit of smile in his voice. "However, I think I can make an exception for my wife. Thank you though, I will handle it from here."

The man scurries away before you can say anything. If he had a tail, it would have been between his legs.

"I think you scared him," you said, turning to your husband.

You ignore your racing heart at hearing Neuvillette call you his wife for the first time. You couldn't stop the smile from spreading on your face though.

"I think if anyone scared him between the two of us, my dear, it was you," he muses, and yes, it is amusement you can hear in his voice.

You two stand there, smiling at each other for a moment before you remember just why you made the journey out here.

"Oh, I brought you lunch." You place the small package in his hand. "I'm sure you're busy here and I wanted to make sure you were eating. I didn't know I needed a ticket to get inside. How did you know I was here?"

"Ah, Aeife told me you had arrive, and I suspected that you would encounter a problem."

He gestures to the side, and sure enough, the small Melusine is there. She gives you a wave before going back to skipping and offering help to those who need it

"She's sweet."

"She is," Neuvillette agrees. "I think most of them like you more than me."

"Who wouldn't like me?"

The smile Neuvillette gives you almost makes you blush, but you barely manage to get a hold of yourself.

"Yes, they'd be fools not to like you."

And now you were blushing. You gently swatted Neuvillette's arm, and only received a chuckle for your antics.

"Thank you," Neuvillette says, genuinely. "I must return now, but I appreciate the thought."

A tiny sliver of disappointment ran through you, but you pushed it down, nodding your head. "Of course, of course. Don't let me keep you. Off you go now."

You made a little shooing motion, the smile on your face letting him know you were simply teasing. But he didn't leave.

"Any time you wish to come and see me, there will always be a ticket waiting for you at the booth." He gestures to the sales booth, which very much looked closed, but you didn't say that. "I'll be sure to tell you the next time Lyney and Lynette do their show."

You visibly perked up, which gained you a small chuckle. You hadn't been shy about saying you wanted to see the show, though apparently it was impossible to find tickets to it.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take you up on that."

You stood up on your tip toes, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. He seems surprised at the touch, but after a moment manages to compose himself, saying a quick goodbye before returning to work.

Aefie tugged at your skirt, a gentle motion almost as soft as a breeze. You knelt down to her level, allowing her to whisper in your ear.

"Thank you for making Neuvillette so happy."

-x-x-x-x-

You fell a lot, as a child, as all children do.

Scraped knees and bruised elbows. What is childhood without a few injuries? Without those precious moments that make them realize oh, sometimes life has pain.

The first time you heard of the concept of "falling in love" you had thought it was like that. Falling on the ground and bruising your knees.

Now though, you think it is something else. Like the feeling of falling into a warm bed at the end of a long day.

Neuvillette is already in bed tonight, laying on his side facing where you normally lay. You tip toe over to the bed, just in case he's already fallen asleep.

He hasn't though, and your eyes meet his vivid purple ones as you lay down, facing him as well.

"I thought you were asleep," you murmur. Tentatively, you reached for him, only to have him meet you halfway. Your fingers laced together with his.

"I was waiting for you."

Such a simple declaration is enough to make you blush. A year of marriage and he still managed to make you blush.

"I'm here now."

Something changes in his eyes, and he looks at you, so, so, fond. "You are here."

You both lay there, either unwilling or unable to fall asleep, feeling so close but somehow still so far away. It's one of the nights when the rain isn't falling. When you first came to Fontaine, it felt as though the rain never stopped, but now it's only occasionally.

"You never answered my question, you know."

Neuvillette frowns for a moment, thinking. You take pity on him before he can worry if he made you upset.

"I asked if you were kind," you murmur, gentle.

It felt like ages ago, talking to a stranger without knowing who they were. Neuvillette looks at you, waiting, knowing you weren't finished.

You had been so worried about everything. And though Sedene had told you, you didn't know if you could believe it or not.

"And what have you found?" Neuvillette asks. His voice is small, as though he's actually afraid of how you might answer.

You don't hesitate.

"You are," you whisper. You inch closer, knees brushing against his own. "You are so, so kind."

He kisses you. Lips sliding against your own, slotting there as though they were meant to be there. And desperately, with almost a full year of longing in you, you kiss back.

You're breathless by the time that he pulls back. He looks the same, and for the first time you see a small blush on his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers, a reverent noise just for you.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again.

"I love you too."

[kittenintheden]

You Can Read Me Anything Part 2

*ELMO ON FIRE GIF* so that took longer than anticipated but you know. HERE YOU GO. (thank you for all the wonderful comments on Part 1)!

***

Druidic Tav grew up in a nomadic clan that recorded their history through spoken word and song rather than written text. As such, she's illiterate, and one charming-ish vampire offers to help her with reading lessons and a whole lot more. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.

Then one night, she unwittingly brings him smut for their lesson.

Rating: E Word Count: 5100 words Content: illiterate Tav, Astarion being a shit, but also being cute, innocent Tav, suggestive dialogue, blood drinking, biting kink, first time oral, cunnilingus, fellatio, PIV sex, Astarion playing himself

AO3 Link

Astarion cradles her head, palm gently pressed to her cheek as she leans into it. She sighs and it tickles his ear, sending a dissipating wave of gooseflesh down the length of his back.

“Are you done yet?” Tav asks, voice breathy.

He hums and detaches from her neck, admiring the clean pair of fang marks he left there. His tongue swipes his bottom lip so he doesn’t waste a single drop of her blood. He releases her and takes a step back.

“You…” he says with a lazy smile as he reaches out with a finger to boop her nose. “... are so delicious.”

“Ha, ha,” she says with an affectionate eyeroll. She spreads her hand over the bite mark and calls on her connection to nature, using it to knit the flesh back together and restore her blood supply. “Glad to help.”

“I’ll bet you are,” he drawls at her with a wink. “Thank you for the appetizer. I’d best go find myself a full meal now.”

As he starts to saunter off deeper into the woods, Tav clicks her fingers and lightly bonks herself on the head. “Oh, almost forgot.” After him, she calls the Elvish phrase Shadowheart taught her.

For the first time since she met him at the site of the nautilus crash, she watches Astarion trip over his own feet.

He catches himself quickly, spine unusually straight as he puts his hands on his waist and takes a few more steps like he’d meant to do that the whole time. When he turns around to look at her, her smile fades when she notices his wide-eyed expression. The tips of his ears have gone very pink.

“Wha-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat and tries again, tone painfully casual. “What did you say?”

Tav grimaces. “Shit, did I get the middle part wrong? It was tricky when Shadowheart had me practice.”

Astarion leans forward a bit and gives a shaky laugh. “Ah. Right. I must’ve misunderstood. What were you trying to say?”

“She told me it meant, ‘I’m pleased to have provided you a good meal,’” Tav says, reaching up to pull some of her hair over her shoulder and fiddle with it.

“I see,” he says as he comes closer, his eyes searching her face. “Could you say it again? So I can correct your enunciation.”

“Oh, okay.” Tav gives a soft cough into her hand and repeats the phrase.

Astarion is close enough now that she sees his pupils dilate the tiniest bit. The flush at the tips of his ears spreads down the edges. Do they always do that after he feeds? They must.

He reaches delicate fingers up to cup her chin and draw her jaw down, parting her lips. His eyes are trained on her mouth and that makes her feel all too warm.

“Loosen your tongue,” he says softly. “Once more.”

She tries one more time and watches his eyelids flutter, inches from her own.

“There we go,” he whispers.

His gaze shifts to her neck again and he leans down toward it. She nearly stops him, but then she feels the draw of his tongue over the spot where he bit. He punctuates it with a soft, barely-perceptible press of his lips. A kiss, she might think, if she were a silly little girl. Which she certainly is not.

Then he’s standing straight again, releasing her face and putting space between them.

“Missed a smudge. Can’t let it go to waste.” His eyes rove over her face. “It’s so very precious.”

Then he walks off and she’s left standing there, cheeks hot and chest uncomfortably tight. Tav continues to run her fingers nervously through her hair as she turns and walks back toward their camp.

Astarion counts out fifty paces before he ducks behind a tree and leans his back heavily against it, letting out a shivery breath. He puts his cool fingers to his ears and tries to rub the heat out of them.

“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Stop it, stop it.”

---

Near the crumbling wreckage of a stone alter, Shadowheart kneels in prayer seeking guidance and direction from her Lady. The darkness, the loss, the silence… they are vast and answerless. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. Clenches her right hand, glancing at the ever-present wound there.

If only she could remember… anything useful. No matter. For now, it’s whatever path will take her back to Baldur’s Gate.

She gathers her components and packs them away, standing to walk back down the path toward camp. There’s a trio of crumbling walls that clearly used to be some sort of holy building and she walks along one, trailing her fingers over the soft moss overgrowth.

Then she turns round the corner of the broken temple to find a bristling, broody vampire leaned up against the wall with his arms folded, glaring at her with a tic in his jaw. He raises an accusatory finger.

"You," he says, the word hard on his tongue. "Are an arsehole."

She gives him a smug smile and arches her brow. "You're a bigger arsehole."

He refolds his arm and narrows his eyes at her. “Really think you’re clever, don’t you.”

The cleric shrugs and cuts off to the side to walk back to the path. “The goal was to make you lose your cool. Seems like it worked.”

Silently and suddenly he’s walking at her side, lip curling in disdain. “Congratulations to you, you managed to annoy me. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, he’s testy tonight,” she says, putting a hand to her cheek in a mockery of shock. “Maybe you’d feel less the fool if you hadn’t been teaching her to talk dirty.”

“We can’t all be ice queens, dear,” he sneers. “Some of us are queens with needs.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes and her entire head along with it. “You should be thanking me, then. I gave you your opening.”

Astarion stops and she keeps on walking.

“To what?” he says.

“To have your ‘needs’ met,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’m not the one who was teaching her to invite me betwixt her thighs. Have a frustrating night.”

Astarion makes an affronted noise after her, pouts a moment, and then calls back, “Your bangs are wretched, by the way.”

She throws a rude gesture up at him and continues onward.

---

He plots and flirts for three days straight before he decides to make his move. Tav’s guard is down, her shy little moments are increasing in frequency, and he can literally hear her heartbeat quicken when he’s near. If that’s not all signs pointing to yes, he doesn’t know what is.

All he has to do is, you know. Make the move. Which he’ll do. Soon.

Because she still makes the most sense. The others all adore her, listen to her. She’s the perfect choice of protector should his vampirism prove a problem to anyone. She’ll say yes. Of course she’ll say yes.

… of course she’ll say yes. No one denies him. It doesn’t happen.

… it rarely happens. Not as if he’d care if it did, this time.

Astarion rocks his weight onto his back leg, flicking his gaze up to see Tav kneeling near the campfire and giving the dog a generous belly rub. Before she stops, he goes back to his extremely casual reading. Standing posed outside his tent. Holding a book with the title facing out. Very normal.

After what feels like an hour, his ears pick up approaching footsteps and he skims the page he’s on, waiting.

“Is that a new one?” Tav asks timidly.

He closes the book and looks up to meet her. His close-lipped smile feels almost natural. Almost.

“There you are,” he says, dropping his register a fraction. “I was just thinking about you.”

Not a lie, actually.

She tucks her hair behind one ear. “Oh? Do I owe you something?”

He laughs and sets his book aside. “Only a bit of your time. I do enjoy it so very much.”

Tav quirks her mouth up on one side. “Yeah? You’re pretty okay, too.”

“Better than okay, I should hope.” He closely examines his thumbnail. “I’m… growing to enjoy the whole package, honestly.”

She doesn’t immediately respond and he chances a look up at her.

“Deer in the magicked light” is what one might call the expression on her face. She blinks rapidly and gives her head a small shake before she looks to the side, color rising prettily in her cheeks.

“Is that so?” she says, giving a tight laugh.

His smile starts to go a little toothy and he dials it back. “I’ve been thinking an awful lot about our last reading lessons,” he lilts at her, peering up through his lashes. “And our language lessons. I’ve been pondering over what other sorts of lessons I could offer.”

Tav’s cheeks go pink to red.

He leans in to speak softly, making her lean in closer to be able to hear him. “I like you,” he says. “And I think you like me, too. So?”

“So, what?” she blurts, immediately grimacing at her own outburst.

A giggle bubbles up out of him before he can stop it and he puts a hand up in front of his mouth to hide his smile. When he regains control, he lowers his hand. “So, I thought you might like to indulge in certain curiosities with me.”

I want to go down on you.

Astarion blinks the thought away as soon as it appears in his head, briefly letting his smile slip before he snatches it back.

Tav is blushing furiously, but she leans in closer to him nonetheless to whisper, “Like what, exactly?”

Elvish, rising like the language of his dreams: I want to drink of your fountain.

He gives his head a light shake, playing it off with a mirthful huff as he says lowly, “Like sex, sweet thing. Whatever kind you might be… interested in.”

Tav nods rapidly and hums, slowly leaning back and standing at her full height again, not quite meeting his eye. “I was pretty sure that’s what you meant, but you know. Better safe than sorry? Is that a thing people say?”

Astarion reaches out to gently guide her chin toward him until she’s looking at him. “Think about it. If you’re amicable, you’ll find me later at the clearing where you last offered me a bite after the others are asleep.” He chucks her under the chin. “I’ll be waiting.”

She nods once more, expression unchanged. “Yeah. Yep. Okay. I’m going to… see you later. Maybe.” Then she turns on her heel and walks away.

“See you later,” he says. “Lover.”

When she disappears into the dark, he blows out a breath, subtly shaking his hands out. That was a yes.

Right?

“Of course it was,” he snipes at his own brain.

---

Hours later, Astarion paces the moonlit clearing, fiddling with the cuffed sleeve of his shirt. The others must be asleep by now. He pulls at the sleeve. It feels too tight.

Should he take the shirt off? He should just take the shirt off.

He does.

Astarion glances around the clearing once more, noting the blanket he spread on the ground nearby. Not a bed, but you know. He’s okay with that, actually.

He clenches and unclenches his fists, rolling his hands at the wrists. Cracking his neck. Rolling out his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to be still. Controlled. Practiced. This is an act he’s performed thousands of times. This is no different.

It’s not.

She’s going to come out of those bushes any moment and-

The bushes he’s looking at actually rustle and he jumps, whispering “oh, shit” before he can stop himself. He manages to put a smile back on his face just as the leaves part and a small doe takes two hops into the clearing and freezes when it spots him.

Astarion doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe. The doe relaxes very slightly, flicking an ear.

It’s one of the little black-tailed deer native to the area. He’s made a meal of more than one of them in recent days. Her coat is smooth and healthy, her eyes brown and clear.

The doe blinks at him and takes a step closer.

He gives a relieved chuckle and says, “There you are, Tav.”

“Oh, you heard me? Damn,” says a voice from behind him.

“Ah-” he yells. He tries to cut off the sound, but it’s too late. The doe spooks and bounds off into the underbrush once again.

“Apologies,” he says, regaining his composure and rolling his eyes to the stars above. “She was such a pretty little thing that I assumed it was you.” He starts to turn. “But I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost and…” He finally sets eyes on her and loses his smile immediately. “... and you’re already naked.”

Tav stands before him without a stitch on, her long hair hanging over her rounded breasts and everything from the waist down on full display. He spots her clothing and staff in a neat stack nearby. Her whole body is flushed.

Astarion swallows. He’s seen untold numbers of people in states of full undress. This is routine. She caught him off-guard, is all.

“I… was I not supposed to be?” Tav says, hands going up to run nervously through her draping hair. “Sorry, I thought… you said sex? And then I saw that you had your shirt off, so…”

He holds up a hand and ticks up his brows. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine! I like it.” He finds the mask, the posture, like muscle memory. Slips back into the person in control. “You’re just full of surprises, beautiful.”

Tav rewards him with a bashful smile, continuing to comb her hands through her hair.

Astarion huffs a laugh. He can’t help himself. He approaches her with slow, intentional steps. “I had a whole catalog of poetic nothings to whisper in your ear, but looks like I needn’t bother, which is fine by me.” He stops in front of her, smiling his charmer’s smile. “So long as you still want to be tasted.”

He’s starting to notice it’s a good sign when the apples of her cheeks turn red. She nods. “I’d like to try the tongue thing, yes, please.”

“Good,” he purrs, reaching for her hips.

He pulls her in for a sweet, well-executed stage kiss. Most people needed about that much before they got to what they were really with him for. He pulls back and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

Tav looks into his eyes, her lips parted. She’s not moving, and oh gods, he’s going to have to lead completely, isn’t he? Ah well. Such is life.

But then she tucks her chin, her gaze going heated. The pupils of her eyes flicker, changing shape ever so slightly, and Astarion hardly has time to drop his pretender’s smile and ask before she surges forward and kisses him back, throwing her arms around his neck.

Astarion gives a surprised “mmmn!” as he stumbles slightly under her vigor, but he corrects quickly, wrapping his arms around her ribcage and lifting her against his body. Her tongue runs along his mouth and she’s nipping, nipping, and-

There’s a sharp sting on his bottom lip and he releases her right as she pulls back from him, hands to her mouth and eyes wide as saucers. He reaches up to touch his lip and when he looks at his fingers, they show a smeared drop of blood. He blinks down at it, astounded.

He feels a snap deep inside him as the monster in him, the hunter, stirs at the sight and scent of blood.

“I’m so sorry,” Tav says, dropping her hands. “It’s a druid thing, we can get a little wild, I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Astarion licks at the cut on his lip and stares at her face, his breath heavy and his shoulders ever so slightly hunched. He can see the smallest bit of his blood at the corner of her mouth.

“Do it again,” he says with a voice like gravel as he scoops her bodily up and goes to his knees so he can set her on the ground.

He lays his body on top of hers and she gasps as his mouth covers hers, exploring and hungry. It doesn’t take long for her to return it in kind, arms wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair. He can’t even bring himself to care when she’s making it look like.

Murkily, his brain reminds him why he’s actually here.

Astarion forces himself away from her mouth and she whines at him, a sound far more animalistic than humanoid, but he doesn’t stop trailing his lips down her body until he gets to her hips. He rolls himself up onto his knees and runs his palms up the tops of her legs from knee to thigh, coaxing them open so he can position himself between.

He looks at her face to find her gaze far less “startled doe” and far more “she-wolf in heat.” Her tongue darts out, licking her lip before she says, “People really like to do this?” Then, “You like to do this?”

Astarion positively grins, his pointed teeth showing through.

"Yes. Though it’s a pity this is your first experience," he says through his feral smile. "Because no one will ever best what I'm about to do to you."

“O-okay,” she stammers, clutching her fists close to her sides.

He purrs deep in his throat and puts his mouth to the inside of her knee, the tip of his tongue tracing a sensual line down her thigh, toward her center. He holds her eye the entire time and delights when her leg twitches.

When he nears the crease of her hip, he gives her a sharp nip and she growls at him, bucking her hips. He runs his tongue up along the crease until he reaches her hipbone, to which he gives a firm suck. As she attempts to roll her hips toward him, he spreads a palm over her hips and applies pressure to hold her down.

“Shall we check to see how you’ve kept your garden?” he says, looking at her from under his brows as he speaks.

In response, Tav giggles and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then nods.

She drops her hand to the ground and shakes her head, murmuring, “It can’t be that different, I’m sure it’s just like…” She shudders in a breath. “... just like…”

Astarion parts his lips and huffs out his breath against the slick skin at her core, already shining with want and anticipation. The sensation is a warming one.

Tav continues muttering to herself. “Books are full of all kinds of nonsense, I’m sure it’s-”

He flicks his tongue right over her clit.

“Ah,” she yelps, trying to buck her hips again. He doesn’t let her.

But he does flick again.

“Wha-” she says, thighs jerking on either side of Astarion’s head. “Why is-”

Astarion presses the flat of his tongue firmly at her entrance and draws it slowly all the way to the hood, teasing with the tip before he curls his tongue in slightly and dips back down to better open her inner labia.

“Holy hells,” Tav groans out, her chest arching up and the hands clawing the ground at either side of her growing actual claws.

He gives her another lap before pulling back to smolder at her. “And here I’ve only just started,” he says, voice silky.

“Holy hells,” Tav shouts to the sky this time.

Astarion huffs a laugh against her and goes back down, playing her with highly practiced skill. Full, long licks paired alongside firm draws over the swelling pearl at her center. She continues to buck ever now and again, but mostly she’s gone near boneless above him, head lolling lazily to either side and fingers weakly gripping the grass on either side of her.

When her breathing begins to stutter and he feels the flutter of her getting close, he finally moves his hand from her belly back down until he can get the angle right. He places the tips of his two middle fingers at her entrance so he doesn’t surprise her and glances up to see her eyes flutter open. She stares down at him from between the mounds of her breasts, pupils blown wide.

She licks her bottom lip.

She nods.

Astarion slides his fingers inside her and begins to pump in time with the movements of his mouth. Tav goes wild, both literally and figuratively. The pupils of the eyes watching him go slitted like a cat’s, gradually dilating back as her teeth go sharp and a random patterning of fur shivers down the length of her body before turning back to skin.

He takes that as a good sign and curls his fingers inside of her until he finds what he’s looking for.

Tav bark-mewl-roar-calls into the air above the clearing, her hips grinding into his mouth and hand now that she can move them again.

“Why does that…” she gasps. “Feel… so… good?” The last word comes out a growl.

He’d answer, but his mouth is preoccupied and he dare not let it leave its task.

With his free hand, he pushes her thigh up and guides it higher until she can wrap her leg round his shoulders and he can go deeper. He feels the swell of her under his tongue, going harder beneath his touch, and he begins to trace circles around it as he continues to pump his fingers into her.

Tav’s entire body rolls, trying to get closer, to get more, to get-

She howls as the tension finally snaps. Literally howls, from the very bottom of her chest.

Astarion slows but doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck her through it as he feels her release in the palm of his hand. He’s gentle, taking a touch of pity on her as he gives her a few more soft licks before he leaves her, drawing his fingers from her at the same time. They’re a mess, as is his face. He sits back on his knees and looks her over with lidded eyes, a self-satisfied half-grin on his face. Then he reaches into his pocket to produce a soft cloth to clean up.

He’s not much of a planner, but he plans enough for things like this.

Tav lolls on the ground, her body fully returned back to humanoid form. All except her pupils, which continue to occasionally flicker across the animal kingdom.

“Oh, that was good,” Astarion says, brows raised and grin on his face as he wipes his hand down. “Even for me, that was good. You’re welcome.”

She throws one arm out to her side, then the other, and slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, trying to focus on him. “Why doesn’t… everybody do that? Oh my gods.” She flops back onto the ground.

Oh, she’s very good for his pride. He gives a pleased wiggle.

“You tell me,” he says. “Or call upon your old lovers and ask.”

Tav weakly waves her hand through the air. “They were bad. I’ve realized. Just now. They were bad at sex.”

“Poor thing,” Astarion croons. “All better now.”

“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side and sits up. Shakes out her head. And starts to crawl toward him.

He instinctively leans back as she comes closer, breasts swaying as she moves. “What are you doing?” he says.

She blinks at him. “I’m going to do it back.”

He blinks at her. “What?”

Tav draws her knees closer and matches his kneeling posture. “I’m going to put my mouth on you back.” She waits a beat. “If you want me to.”

“Uh,” Astarion breathes before he shakes himself and gets his wits back about him. “I would like that very much,” he says. He tries to purr it, but slightly lower in pitch is the best he can do.

It’s been years since he’s been with anyone who even bothered to ask. Probably decades.

Tav beams at him, a bright smile that’s so sunshiny it nearly betrays what they’ve just done. She rolls up onto her knees and pulls him by the wrists to do the same so she can reach the laces that hold his trousers on. His arousal pulses near her hands.

Astarion blinks. He’s… more into this than he usually is.

He blinks again.

He’s very into it, actually.

His fingers go to join hers and together they make quick work of his pants and underthings. Gently, she guides him back to kneeling again as she curls forward. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches out so he can hold her hair up out of her face. She’s at eye level with his cock, inspecting it with the eye of someone all too familiar with all the things nature has to offer and completely unashamed for it.

Astarion swallows back the wanting sound that tries to claw its way out of him.

“Have you done this before?” he asks softly.

Tav peers up at him from her position below and bends her legs at the knees, kicking her feet slowly through the air. She shakes her head “no” and something frozen inside him melts. Best ignore that. That’s a future-him problem.

“You are adorable,” he breathes. He finds he means it in the affectionate way rather than the condescending one, which is alarming. That’s another future-him problem.

Astarion clears his throat. “Same general practice applies here, really,” he says lightly.

Tav licks her lips and reaches out to touch him. Her fingers on him give him a little jolt to the solar plexus and he curls toward her on instinct before he catches himself.

“Tell me if there’s something I could do better,” she says, simply.

Then she licks along the underside of his cock and puffs her breath out across it, much in the same way he did to her.

He curls in toward her again and tightens the hand in her hair.

She puts her mouth over the head of him and he’s enveloped in warmth and oh, yes, he remembers this. This feels good. This feels very good.

Tav doesn’t get down very far before she backs up again. When she pulls off, he reaches a hand down to cup her jaw and draw it down, parting her lips.

“Loosen your tongue,” he whispers. “Once more.”

She does. She descends on him again, relaxing her jaw and loosening her tongue, taking him down deeper and deeper with each pass. Astarion means to watch and guide her, he does, but instead his head lolls back, eyes falling closed, and he smiles. A real smile.

It feels so bloody good. It feels good and he doesn’t have to… he can just be…

Tav hums a little with him mostly inside her mouth and he gasps from it, blinking back to the surface.

Oh, that’s too good.

He lets her go a few seconds more before he tightens the fingers in her hair once more to still her and gently guide her back. His chest heaves as her mouth leaves him, a string of saliva connecting them, and Astarion shudders forward.

“What’s wrong?” Tav asks, her eyes wide and concerned.

She can’t look at him like that. That’s not fair.

He lifts her beneath her arms and pulls her up toward him, her face to his, and kisses her again. She happily responds, catching his lower lip between hers and nipping once more.

Astarion groans.

Hands on her face, he breaks their kiss and tries to collect his scattered thoughts. It’s all hazed over with want. There was a reason for this, they were supposed to… he was supposed to…

“Why don’t we…” He loses the thought and swallows. Tries again. “Let’s find our mutual…”

Words, words, words, where are his words?

Astarion hisses through his teeth. “Oh, just… sex. Let’s have sex.”

“Oh,” Tav breathes, lips swollen and cheeks ruddy. “Okay.”

Whatever he had planned, which was not much, goes completely sideways as she simply climbs up onto his lap, reaches between them, and holds him steady so she can sink down onto him.

He’s so wholly unprepared for the suddenness and initiative of it that his eyes nearly roll back in his head before his mind catches up and he grips her hip with his hand, guiding her as he rolls up to meet her, his hips rhythmic, until their hips meet and he bottoms out.

Tav throws her arms around his shoulders and immediately begins to rock against him, her eyes closed and her joyous grin on her face. Astarion is doing his absolute best not to completely lose himself in her heat, her closeness, her scent.

Her pulse, oh, gods.

Astarion rocks himself up into her with steady rolls of his hips, tilting in to press his open lips to her neck with a moan.

“You can,” she gasps as she rides him. “You can bite, if you want.”

He’s not sure if the words he makes are language, but he does know he’s biting her and her blood washes over his tongue and he drinks lazily, sipping as he fucks into her at the same time. His mind is so unbelievably, blissfully bare of anything except how good, how hot, how much, how full, how winding winding winding-

Astarion pulls off her neck with a gasp almost on the edge of his orgasm. Automatically, he reaches between them and uses all the wiles of a skilled lockpick to send her spiraling over her ledge a second time before he furrows his brow, slams his eyes shut, and yells out as he climaxes, his spend spilling where he’s still buried deep.

“Oh, fuck,” he blurts before he can stop himself, nearly collapsing onto his side with Tav along for the ride. He slips out of her on the way down and immediately feels the mess they’ve just made.

Another future-him problem.

Tav casts a very half-hearted create water spell that at least rinses them off. She drapes herself over his chest, dopey smile plastered on her face. “You win,” she says. “I see what all the fuss is about now.”

“I bet you do,” he says breathily.

He’s grateful she’s not looking at his face as he struggles to hide the worry pulling at his expression. It’s future-him time, and future-him is having a moment.

He just had the best sex he can remember having in… that he can remember. With someone who will still be alive in the morning. And he likes her.

Oh, hells.

He likes her.

[crilbyte]

Due to popular demand, here is a continuation of my Alastor Oneshot based on the song "Don't You Dare Make Me Fall In Love With You."

Part 1 𖦹 Part 2

Warnings/Promises: 18+, size kink, soul contract, oral (m & f receiving), first time, confessions, breath play, biting, creampie.

“Alastor?” You ask as he solidifies and steps towards you.

"Darling," He whispers, a small smirk on his face at your state of undress. "I'm here to make a deal…”

"a deal...? with me?" You ask, curious.

"Yes, my dear," He murmurs, his tone turning serious. "Charlie has informed me that your ascension is nearing. I have come to persuade you to… make a different choice.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Oh... she said that?" You ask. "And why... is that?"

Alastor takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because, I'd be... lonely, without you here. I've grown fond of your quiet presence, and I don't like the thought of going back to solitude.”

You tilt your head. "But you have Charlie, aren't you and her quite close?"

Alastor pauses for a moment at your question, his eyes narrowing slightly. He never thought you would question his reasoning.

"She... it isn't the same," He growls. "I want you, here... always, keeping me... sane." A hint of sadness crosses his face, but it's quickly replaced by a smirk. "Charlie and I have... similar goals. But we are not close. She doesn't need me the way you do... and she certainly doesn't have... my tastes" He says, taking another step towards you.

You give up on this line of questioning and instead start a new one.

"So you want to make a deal for my soul?" you ask. "You get my soul and in return I can have... anything I want?”

Alastor smiles again, but more genuinely this time. "Yes... that's what I'm proposing. Your soul, in exchange for anything your heart desires." He says with a grin, sitting down on your bed and holding out a hand towards you. "Do we have a deal?”

You feel the static in the air, the sound seeming to fill your ears like a flood as he leans towards you. You watch as his antlers slowly grow and green scratch marks appear in the air, forming into unfamiliar symbols that flash in and out. You look down at his hand, your gaze steeling before you tentatively reach out, but then pause. Just as he thinks you might pull back, you do the opposite, confidently gripping his hand and looking at him with a determined glint in your eyes.

"Deal.”

Alastor chuckles low as you accept his hand and the deal. The static intensifies as he grips your hand back, pulling you closer to him. The symbols in the air flare brightly for a moment before they vanish, leaving a faint glow that's slow to fade. You watch as the green stitching appears in his lips, a gold contract and a quill appearing between you.

You take the pen and sign your name without hesitation. The moment the last letter is written, a flash of green light fills the room and you feel a heavy weight settle around your neck as a neon green collar appears there. The chain attached to it leading to Alastor's still outstretched hand.

Alastor chuckles again as the collar settles around your neck, tugging on it playfully. He brings his free hand up to trace a finger along the chain, watching it with interest before he looks back at you.

"The weight of your decision…” he says. You watch his finger as it slides down the chain, your body leaning towards him. Alastor's finger hooks into the collar, pulling a little harder, causing your body to lean closer to him still. "...is now physically upon you," he finishes, a dark glint in his eyes as he studies you. He leans in close, whispering seductively, "And what could you possibly want so badly you'd be willing to trade your soul for it without a second thought?”

"If I tell you, you can't go back on it right?" You ask, your eyes boring into his. "Just like I can't go back on the deal, you can't either, correct?”

Alastor smirks, a wicked and sinister expression taking over his features. "That's right," he confirms, running his thumb along the collar before letting it fall from his fingers. "Once you've signed the contract, there's no going back. So go ahead. Tell me what is it that could tempt you so drastically. What did you desire?”

You're silent a moment, just staring at him, still leaned in close, before a single word falls from your lips.

"You…”

Alastor tilts his head slightly, processing your word as you stare at each other for a tense, long moment. Slowly, his lips curl into a small smirk.

"You desire me?" He repeats, an almost mocking tone in his voice, but his eyes tell a different story.

You nod, silently moving forward towards him, closing the distance between you. Alastor watches as you crawl across the bed towards him. Something flashes in his expression, but it's gone just as quick as it came. He moves his hand from your collar to the small of your back, pulling you gently closer by slowly reeling you in. Closer, until your body is almost flush with his, able to feel the rise and fall of his chest under his suit jacket, his lips a breath away from yours. You look up at him, blinking rapidly, mouth slightly open.

"Yes," you say in almost a whisper. "What I desire most... is you…”

Alastor closes his eyes, your words causing a visible shiver to run through him. He's quiet for a moment, just simply holding you close before he takes in a deep breath and finally crashes his lips against yours, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You gasp into the kiss, moaning. Alastor takes the chance to slip his tongue between your lips, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer against him. His hands move from your waist and up your back, pulling you impossibly close as he devours your mouth hungrily.

A groan escapes him as he can feel your tongue fighting his own for dominance. He finds he likes the challenge. Alastor chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss for just a moment before diving back in, hands slipping up under your shirt to rest against the warmth of your skin. He matches your fight for dominance with his own, a growl rumbling through his chest as you continue.

You pull in a sharp breath as you feel his fingers tracing up your stomach. Alastor smirks, lips still pressed against your own as his fingers continue their gentle, teasing climb up towards your breasts. He doesn't quite touch them yet, just hovering for a moment before he finally presses his palms against them with a low groan.

Your voice matches his as you feel him take hold of you. You wrap your arms around his neck and let yourself fall back onto the bed. Alastor gladly lets you pull him down with you and he presses his body against the length of yours. He continues his attention to your breasts, lips breaking away from yours as he trails kisses along your jaw and down towards them.

You let out a little yelp as he tear ls open your night shirt with his claws, exposing the fact that you didn't wear a bra to sleep. Alastor growls low, the sound turning almost needy as he sees your bare chest. He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth without hesitation and flicking his tongue against it.

"A-ah!" You moan out, gripping his suit tightly as you feel his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "Alastor..."

Alastor can't help but let out a pleased hum at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He continues sucking and biting gently at your nipple, paying equal attention to both.

Your chest arches into his mouth as you pull your knees up to rest at his sides, nestling him nicely between them as you mewl out sounds of pleasure. Alastor smirks against your skin, his smirk turning into a pleased growl at the sounds you're making.

He purrs in satisfaction at your reactions, the vibrations of his chest rumbling against you as he continues to kiss and bite at your nipples until they're red and sensitive. He can't bring himself to stop, loving the sight that's presented to him; you, almost begging for more as he grinds his hips against yours. The motion, almost completely involuntary, pulls a deep and almost guttural moan from him and he pulls back from your chest.

"What is this...?" he asks, "What is this feeling...?" Alastor's mind is still racing as he asks the question. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes locked onto you. This feeling is unknown to him and it's only making him want more, he wants to know what this feeling is and how to bring it back.

"It's desire, Alastor..." You say, taking his face gently in your hands. "It's lust." Your voice is a whisper as you pull him closer and press your lips against his. While you had intended it to be a soft kiss, the moment you touch it's as though a wildfire ignites and you both lose yourselves in it.

Alastor gasps against your lips but quickly melts into the kiss as he moans and pulls you even closer. He runs his fingers through your hair and presses his body completely against yours, a feeling that he never wants to let go of.

While he's seemingly distracted you reach down between your bodies and press your hand against the growing bulge in his pants, grinning into the kiss as you find it and hear him moan at its touch.

Alastor bucks his hips into your hand and he moans even louder, his hands gripping onto you tighter as the kiss intensifies. He moves one of his hands from your hair and places it over yours, encouraging you to continue touching him, a feeling that he wants to grow stronger. His excitement sends a shiver down your spine.

"Alastor... have you not..." you begin to ask, tilting my head as you look down at me with a deliciously lustful expression. "Have you never done this before?" You finally ask.

"Of course," Alastor answers without shame. "I've never had any interest in these matters before. Why would I search it out? it only ever seemed a distraction to others..." he tries to sound indifferent, but the look on his face, his panting, they all tell a different story.

"So you mean to tell me..." You sit back up, eyes half lidded. "No one has ever..." You push him back so he's the one laying down now, with your over top of him. "Touched you here...?" You ask, palming him once more.

Alastor's breath hitches as you push him back. His mouth opens, his breath heavy and his tongue moving wildly in his mouth at his desire and arousal.

"No," he admits, letting out a low moan.

"Then please," you say in a low, seductive tone as you unbuckle his pants and deftly deal with the button and zipper. "Let me be the first to show you just how much of a distraction it can be."

"Oh, please do," Alastor says, full with a desperation, a pressure building inside of him. He smirks, the chain reappearing in his hand. "You will be the first, and only ever to touch me like this," he says, breathing hard as you pull out his cock.

"Gladly..." You whisper before licking around the tip.

Alastor lets out a loud, guttural moan as you take him into your waiting mouth. His hips begin to buck up and down, his fingers becoming tangled in your hair. He growls, pulling the chain tighter. You moan into his length as you feel him thrusting into you. His unbridled desire for you making you want to ravish him.

Alastor moans loudly, the sensation of your warm mouth around his cock driving him wild. He pulls the chain tighter, the metal biting into your neck as he thrusts deeper into your mouth.

"Yes doll, just like that," he pants, his voice growing more and more ragged with each thrust.

You press your head onto him, taking him even deeper, relishing in the pleasure you're giving him. Alastor thrusts even deeper at the sudden pressure, feeling himself on the edge of release already. The room is filled with the sounds of his rough, ragged breathing and the wet sounds of your very full throat. He grips the chain so tightly his knuckles are white, growling. You can feel his thrusts becoming less rhythmic and you take him as deep as you can, one final push to send him over the edge, wanting him to experience what it's like to cum down someone's throat.

With a final, desperate thrust, Alastor loses control. He releases the chain and grabs the sides of your head, holding you firmly in place as he climaxes, his moans loud and animalistic in the dimly lit room. He pulls back slowly, gasping for breath. You pull back as well, wiping your lip as you swallow every drop.

"That feel nice...?" You ask.

Breathing hard, Alastor watches you as you pull back with a shocked and satisfied look in his eyes.

"Nice? You have no idea, doll," he purrs, still somewhat breathless. His eyes still lust-filled, Alastor summons the chain to his hand, using it to pull you close for a deep and passionate kiss. He can taste himself on your tongue and it excites him. You take his hand and press it between your legs. He feels how wet you are there, how hot.

"That's all from you…” You whisper in his ear. “I liked doing that for you..."

Alastor moans softly at the taste of himself on your tongue, his eyes flicking down to where you press his hand against you. Feeling how hot and slick you are beneath his fingers sends a thrill through him, and he can't help but rub gently against your clit.

You moan into his mouth, unconsciously pressing your hips into his touch. The sound of your moan sends a thrill through Alastor, and he rubs a little more firmly against you. His tongue delves deeper into your mouth, exploring you hungrily. His mind is racing with desire and lust, and he knows he wants more than just his hand on you.

"Put your fingers inside me..." You say before biting his lip and tugging it slightly.

A surge of arousal shoots through Alastor at your words, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth at the small bite to his lip. Slowly, he slips a finger inside you, testing your wetness, making you let out a low rumble at the feeling, but it's not enough.

"More, give me more..." You beg as you begin to suck on his lip.

Alastor groans at your words, and you feel him slipping another finger inside. He slowly begins to pump them in and out of you, his mouth working with yours as he starts to thrust his fingers faster.

"Fuck yes..." You gasp out. "Another," you say as you suck on your tongue.

"Greedy," Alastor gasps as he slips his third finger inside you, the motion becoming a little awkward as his hand starts to fill you completely. But the noises you make are so addicting, he can't stop, and he starts thrusting faster and deeper. "I want to taste you..."

You break the kiss and give y himou a sparkly eyed look. "You do?" You ask, a little surprised.

"More than anything," Alastor says, his voice rumbling with desire. He's been craving the taste of you for a long time, and he's not waiting any longer. Pulling his fingers out of you, he licks them clean before pushing you onto your back and grabbing your thighs just under your knees.

"Alastor..." You say with a blush, losing some of your confidence now that you're not the one in control.

"No need to be nervous, darling," Alastor purrs as he leans down to kiss the inside of your thighs. Slowly, he works his way up until he reaches your sex, spreading your lips with his fingers to get his first real taste of you.

You pull in a quick breath, strangely embarrassed as he looks directly at you like this.

"Do I make you nervous, dear?" Alastor murmurs, not looking away as he takes his first lick of you. He can't help but moan softly at the taste and starts licking and sucking in earnest. "You're so responsive, it's almost shameful," Alastor chuckles, not taking his eyes off of you as he continues to pleasure you. He wants to see every reaction from the way you blush to the way your eyes close in pleasure.

Your legs begin to shake at the feeling of his tongue. "A-alastor!" You mewl, your hand finding its place on his head.

"Yes, darling?" Alastor groans, feeling the way your hand grips his hair. He loves the possessive way you touch him, and it only fuels his

"Don't stop," you gasp out. "It feels... so good!"

"Oh, I have no intentions of stopping," Alastor growls, feeling himself getting even harder. He can already feel your walls starting to flutter around his tongue, and he knows you're close.

"I-I'm gonna- a-ah!" He can feel as your body writhes in pleasure.

"Yes, cum for me," Alastor urges, wanting to feel you pulse around his tongue. He continues to lick and suck at your clit as your cries reach a fever pitch before slowing down as your orgasm subsides.

The minute you feel yourself coming down you grip him by his collar and drag him to you, kissing him with a determined frenzy. Alastor grins against your lips and doesn't hesitate to position himself above you. He starts to lose himself as you pull him down into a searing kiss. His fingers trace down your body, teasing your already sensitive folds.

As you break the kiss, looking deep into his eyes, your words are quiet but strong. "Fuck me, Alastor..."

"With pleasure," Alastor growls, his eyes darkening at your words. His grin widens as he gazes into your eyes. He can hear the desire in your quiet words, and he's more than willing to give you what you want. Positioning himself at your entrance, he slowly starts to push inside, groaning at the feeling of your tight walls around him. He sets a slow pace, enjoying every second of being inside you. But he knows that soon this slow pace will not be enough. You let your head roll back as he fills you perfectly.

"Oh, Alastor..." You say in a low moan, your leg raising so you can caress him along his side with your ankle.

"You're so tight," Alastor groans in pure bliss at the feeling of your walls around him. He takes his time to get used to it before slowly starting to thrust in.

"Is it anything like you thought it would feel...?" You ask with a smirk.

"No. Better," Alastor answers with a smirk before thrusting deeper and harder, his hand finding its way to your throat, applying just enough pressure to send tingles down your spine. He continues to pound into you, his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

"Ah..." Your chest swells as he grabs you, the feeling of danger, despite knowing he wouldn't truly hurt you, thrilling.

"You like it rough, don't you?" Alastor growls, feeling you tightening around him. He can tell how much it turns you on.

The grip on your throat tightens slightly before he let's go, leaning down to bite and suck on your neck, leaving marks that will soon be visible to anyone who sees you. He can feel your whole body shudder as you loudly moan, the pleasure mixing with the pain in a delectable way.

"You've gotten even tighter, my dear," Alastor groans as he continues to thrust into you, his other hand finding its way to one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipple while his mouth is busy on the other side of your neck.

"Fuck..." Your voice is low, every thrust forcing a new moan from you. You dig your nails into him, scratching up his back until hands are in his hair while your legs lock around his hips, effectively driving him even deeper into you.

"Yes, just like that," Alastor groans, his thrusts becoming more frenzied as he feels you clenching around him. He enjoys the feeling of your nails on him as it drives him even closer to the edge. "Leave your mark on me..."

You look up at him with pure lust in your eyes and pull his head down beside yours, biting into his neck as you grip his ears, rubbing their soft fur. Alastor groans and growls at the feeling of your teeth, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels himself getting closer to climax. He can't help but rub himself against you, loving the feeling of your grip on his ears and the way you seem to cling to him.

You begin to feel his antlers growing and let him pull back just enough to see that they're not the only thing. His whole body is transforming, the pleasure seeming to cause him to shift into his wendigo demon form. You lick your lips as he steadily grow in size, quickly dwarfing you, his hand able to almost wrap completely around your waist. Where anyone else might be frightened, he can tell from the look in your eyes that you're excited.

"You like that, do you?" Alastor growls, his voice deep and otherworldly as he shifts into his demonic form. He can't help but smirk at the look of excitement in your eyes and takes a moment to relish in the feeling of his body transforming and growing larger.

A shiver rolls down your body and you take in a slow, deep gasp as his cock grows proportionally inside you. He were big enough before, now you feel as though you might actually lose you mind as he fucks roughly into you. Alastor growls as he feels himself filling you more, loving the way you seem to writhe and moan in pleasure. He grips your waist tightly with both hands, holding you like a toy, as he begins to thrust into you harder and faster, his body shaking with every movement.

"You feel as fragile as a twig..." he says gruffly, his voice a growl.

You look up at him, your eyes clear just long enough to say the words "break me” before they roll back into your head and your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

Alastor's eyes light up with both surprise and desire at your response, and he grips your hips unbearably tighter, growling in pleasure as he begins thrusting into you with all his might, every movement shaking your body and cracking sounds begin coming from the bed. Alastor's primal lust overcomes him as he begins to thrust into you harder and faster, almost punishingly so. He wants to hear those words again, craves the feeling of dominating and controlling you.

"Again..." he grunts, losing himself in the pleasure of the moment.

"Break me!" You growl again, louder this time.

Alastor's eyes glide shut as he relishes in the feeling of controlling you, dominating you completely, breaking you just as you asked. He thrusts into you harder still, his own growls and moans mixing with yours, filling the room. You begin to feel the knot in your stomach forming once more, growing tighter and tighter with every thrust.

"Alastor!" You scream out, "l-I'm gonna cum!"

"Yes...yes, cum for me..." Alastor's eyes light up at your words and he thrusts into you once more, sending you over the edge.

"Oh-oh-oh-! A-Ahh!" You feel yourself come undone around him, your whole body quivering from the strength of the orgasm his incredible cock sends through you. He watches as your sexed out face falls to the side, still groaning with every thrust he forces into your weakened body, tears of ecstasy in the corners of your eyes; your body shaking and trembling beneath him, your moans echoing in his ears.

Alastor watches you in awe, your face a picture of pure pleasure as you cum onto his cock. He watches as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging the pleasure and the intensity of your orgasm. He loves the sight of you, completely broken and exposed beneath him, completely his. Then, suddenly he feels himself release into you, his thrusts slowing as he reaches his own peak. "Yes...yes..." he murmurs, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your eyes widen as you feel him begin to spill inside you, there's so much that it's as though you're body can't fit it all and you can feel it gush out around him and onto your thighs. You let out a long moan, looking up and into his eyes.

"Yeeesssss..." yoy say in a sultry voice. "Cum inside me... Fill me… claim me..."

Alastor watches as more and more of his cum spills into you, filling you up completely and giving you no choice but to accept it. He loves the sensation of you fully beneath him, completely taken by him, and the way you look up at him as he cums is like a dream come true.

You feel as though you may pass out, both from pure ecstacy and exhaustion. Alastor smirks, satisfied by the sight of you so completely spent beneath him. He slowly pulls out of you, watching in satisfaction as his cum spills out of you and onto the sheets, marking you as his.

"You are mine," he insists, his demonic grin still plastered on his terrifying face, green chain in hand.

"Yours..." you whisper with a smile, trailing your finger along the chain.

Alastor watches as you admire the chain, almost like a predator eyeing their prey. He loves how submissive and obedient you are, especially after he's just made you cum so hard. With a breath he begins to return to his normal size, face relaxing into more of his usual grin.

"Is this what I'm to expect now that you own my soul?" You ask playfully.

Alastor smiles wickedly, his eyes gleaming at your question. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his warm breath giving you goosebumps. "If you behave and obey, yes, much more of this awaits you."

"Hmmm..." You hum happily. "Then I'll do my best to not disappoint."

Alastor chuckles darkly at your reply, his grin only widening. "Good girl," he purrs, running his thumb along your cheekbone affectionately. He leans down to give you a kiss, marking you as his and leaving no doubt in your mind who you belong to now.

"Remind me to thank Charlie tomorrow," you mumble. "She played her part perfectly."

Alastor smirks at your words, his expression darkening slightly at the mention of her name. "She is your friend, and yet she played a part to trap you into a deal with a demon?"

You look up at him with a sly grin. "It was no trap," you begin to explain. "I told her to go tell you I was going to heaven."

Alastor raises an eyebrow at your words, caught off guard by your reveal. He looks impressed by your cleverness and cunning, though still slightly wary of the meddling demon belle. "and why did you do that," he asks, running a hand through his hair with frustration.

"Because I could tell you were hiding something from me, and I figured if I was going to get it out of you, I'd have to force your hand."

Alastor smirks at your words and leans back in his chair, eyes locked with yours. "Well, you certainly did that," he says with a laugh. He has to admit that he's surprised and impressed by your plan, even though it had been a risky move on your part.

"I never had any intention of redemption," you admit. "I couldn't leave you if I wanted to..."

Alastor looks at you with intensity, a mixture of emotions flicker across his face. He's both relieved and touched by your words, though he'd never admit it. His mind races at the implications of what you've just said. He leans in closer to you, his voice dropping lower. "Then prove it,"

You lift the chain up as though it's proof enough. "As long as you own my soul I can't ascend to heaven, even accidentally. I'm stuck here will you for as long as you want me around... which I can only hope is eternity."

Alastor's eyes widen as he follows your movement, his gaze tracking the chain in your hand. He reaches out and takes it from you, running a thumb over the cold metal, his mind racing with thoughts of what this means for the two of you.

"I'm yours Alastor. Yours and only yours. And... I hope that I can say the same for you?" You give you a gentle, hopeful look.

Alastor looks at you, his expression softening as he takes in your appearance. His eyes scan over your face, memorizing every detail, every curve, and every freckle.

"You already own me," he admits in a low voice, his fingers tightening around the chain. "You did the day you set foot in my line of sight. I have never wanted anyone like this, and I dare say, I don't think I ever will again."

You shiver at his words, smiling. "Good..." You whisper, letting your arms wrap around his neck.

Alastor wraps his arms around your waist, his movements slow as he pulls you closer. He feels a strange sense of relief wash over him as he holds you tightly, feeling your body pressed against his own.

"I promise to protect you, to keep you safe from anything that might harm you," he hums onto your skin. "I will be the only one to touch you like this... And in return, you are the only one I will ever allow to touch me the same."

You blush; this decoration more intimate than any you'd ever have expected. "I love you too, Alastor..." You sigh happily, nuzzling in closer to him.

Alastor's eyes light up at your words, and he feels a warmth spread through him. He tilts his head down, pressing his lips to your forehead with a gentle smile on his face. "Sleep well my dear," he whispers, holding you close as you drift off in his arms.

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