#fucking sewer rats the two of them

[frnkiebby]

i fucking just~🎃

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Zombie!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Zombie!Ghost, Reader

Summary: Being on the run from the undead doesn't leave much time for more intimate things, but once things start to settle a little an ache begins to form that you havent felt in a long time. What will you do when the only other person you are with is your former lover turned zombie.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: here it is as requested. I hope I did it justice. Happy Halloween 🎃

You’d been on the run for months now, never stopping as hordes of the undead nipped away at any temporary calm would you seek to have. It wasn’t easy always having to look over your shoulder, wondering when you were going to get ambushed again or if you’d get overrun and you’d have to make your final stand in a blaze of glory. Something like that isn’t supposed to become normal, but after over a year of living in hell you kind of get used to it… Kind of.

That first month was the hardest since you had been completely on your own because in the chaos and confusion of that first wave as the everything fell apart, including the 141 you were stationed with, you’d gotten separated from everyone. Hiding in the sewers, scavenging for food like some kind of rat, it was torture. But then you came across someone you thought you’d never see again: Ghost.

He was holed up alone in an abandoned farmhouse back in the thick of the woods a town over from the base. What should have been a reunion with someone you knew was thrown off by the fact that he had in fact been turned into one of the undead. Out of everyone that you could have run into, why him? You two had history, the kind where intimate details were something that you shared, and now you were both thrust together once again only this time there were bigger things at stake other than if you’d get caught fooling around by the captain.

The strange thing was that even though Ghost had been fully transformed by the infection, it was not what you expected. You realized quickly that Ghost had kept most of his humanity, though the more finer details of his person were scrambled by the disease. Even though he could not speak anymore due to the fact that his jaw was broken, Ghost was still inside there. And the strangest part of it all was that he remembered you.

It wasn’t like anything you had seen from the horde of mindless undead and so instead of facing the unknown alone again, you decided to stick with him. For over a year you two stayed side by side and although you did not come across any others of the task force, it was enough to just have one another.

Honestly he wasn’t a terrible companion, though a bit of conversation would have been nice. Still, having him with you had its perks. Being one amongst the walking corpses had great benefits and Ghost used them to their full capability to keep you safe so that after a time, even though the world still sat in ruin, you two were not doing too bad. At least you were able to stay in place for more than a day now.

That’s where you found yourself, shacked up in a two story cottage you had found almost untouched and secluded in the middle of the woods. It was easy enough to make secure, as secure as you could having limited supplies, but apart from a few stray corpses stumbling by there wasn’t much action. That anxiety riddled tension that you had held in your chest for over a year began to ease and with that came old stirrings that you hadn’t felt since before the world collapsed.

An old familiar ache brought on by being near someone who you used to share such things with, the one that leaves you begging to be quenched, wormed its way back into your life and now that you had more time on your hands it was becoming a major problem.

You see, adrenalin has a funny way of fucking with your head: heightening your senses, making your pulse race, everything feels so much more intense. You were only human, one who still had needs which had not been met in so fucking long that you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be touched by another and so having your blood always rushing and your skin tingling, how could you stop yourself from giving in to that most basic of temptations?

It was a shame that Ghost wasn’t an option now; you would liked to have him one more time as the world burned, but there was no way no… right?

So, instead, one evening after the perimeter had been secured and the doors re-bolted, the windows rechecked and the traps restrung, that ache reached its peak and you had to do something before it got in the way of staying safe. Sneaking off to the bedroom you had claimed for yourself upstairs, you allowed that overwhelming need to finally overtake you.

Leaving the door slightly ajar so that you could still be alert to any stray sounds, you laid down on the cushioned surface of the mattress, your pulse racing rapidly in your chest at the prospect of doing this. You made quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper only enough so that you could access that throbbing between your thighs. Clamping your mouth shut in an effort to keep quiet you slid your hand down the front of your pants, down all the way until you reached your sex. 

A whimper filled your mouth that you choked back down; the last thing you needed was to alert a horde with your desperate cries as you worked yourself. It may have been a while, but you knew exactly what to do and extending your middle finger you split yourself open to find your clit, another whimper rising in your throat as you made the connection and began to draw tight circles around the bundle of nerves.

It was hard not to get worked up so fast as that remembered pleasure filled your mind and snaked its way through your limbs to make your body vibrate and as you stroked that pulsing bean you were brought back to those times when you and Ghost used to get lost in that ecstasy together. You couldn’t be blamed for where your mind wandered, not when you had to be near the one person who knew how to draw your pleasure from you, even if he couldn’t do it anymore.   

Before you knew it, you had flipped yourself onto your stomach and then onto knees to ride your fingers, hips grinding away as you imagined him underneath you. Fuck, the way he used to look staring back up at you with those hungry copper eyes, hands greedily clinging around the meat of your hips as he shoved you down harder onto his cock before he would inevitably flip you onto your back to pound into you; it was enough to make you salivate with need, but still you tried to keep quiet.

You thought yourself sneaky, keeping things to a minimum as you desperately drew out your release, but Ghost was not the same man he was when he was alive. His senses were different now, enhanced like a wild animal’s by the infection that took his life and made him into something entirely new. As he stood in the living room, staring blankly out the window to watch for any signs of undead, something caught his attention.

The scent of pheromones were on the air, enticing him forward to the upstairs. He followed it all the way to the back bedroom, your room. Slowly, silently, creeping towards the door, Ghost peered unblinking through the slit to watch you up on your knees on top of your bed, your pants hanging slack around your hips while your ass point upward towards the door. That motion, he knew it; that back and forth sway of your hips over top of your bed. 

There was another fragrance on the air now, something more familiar. Taking a deep breath, his heightened sense of smell caught the scent of your natural lubrication currently soaking your fingers and it awoke something deep within him like a fire in chest akin to what an animal feels when it goes into heat. His slack mouth began to unconsciously salivate as ingrained memories surfaced, flashes of remembered sensations from times when he too enjoyed such pleasures. Inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing.  

It was then that he became acutely aware of a tightness growing down below and instinctually he cupped his hand around it, rubbing the growing bulge against his chilly palm. Was he actually getting hard? That was surprising as anyone would have expected that to not happen anymore; he had retained much of his humanity, but he had not had the time until now to explore all the facets of what that entailed.

The more he rubbed the more it grew until the front of his pants tented out near the zipper, straining so hard against the fabric that he had to wonder if he could pop the closure without even trying. God, it felt…amazing.

“Fuck, Simon,” he caught the whispered hiss through the silence as you pressed your body down harder onto the bed, onto your fingers, and it sent a shiver up his spine. The way you said that name he hadn’t heard in so long, in that desperate way almost as a plea to your lust to fulfill its unspoken promise and wash that euphoric feeling over you, caused memories to violently resurface. He had heard that before in just that exact way- from you.

Scattered and disjointed memories of you beneath him burst into his minds eye, brought back to life by the sound of your voice: you writhing with eyes closed, your skin glistening with perspiration in the pale light of a dimly lit room, bare breasts bouncing up and down with each of his strong thrusts, crying his name into the silence as you came.

If breathing was something he was still required to do those lungs would be heaving by now to bring in enough air as he was so worked up that he would surely be panting. His hand gripped tighter now around the head of his cock, stroking with more purpose now as his dilated pupils followed the curve of your back all the down to your ass to watch it bob up and down.

The pace of his hand quickened to match your rocking as if fucking you by proxy, stroking through his clothes while transfixed on you. Goddamn he wished he could remember the way you felt wrapped around him, but that sensation had been lost when he succumbed to the disease. All he could do was watch and enjoy the way your body looked while your movements became more sloppy as the warmth gathered in the pit of your stomach, that delicious heat that you had not felt in so long.

“Yes, yes,” you mewled under your breath while your thighs clenched around your hand as you were so close. You brought in another finger to join the first one and with both you slipped them inside your entrance; it was nothing like the way Ghost could fill you out, but it would have to do.

Bearing down hard while you kept the pace steady, your breathing more erratic, you finally reached the peak and spilled violently over the edge, tumbling down as your body writhed and jerked through the overwhelming intensity of that first orgasm. You stifled your cries as much as you could inside your mouth, but they still reached an unknown listener who nearly came himself if he had not had to move quick before being spotted.

…and that left him very frustrated…   

You fell onto the mattress, removing your fingers from your pussy as you breathed out a sigh of contented relief. It hadn’t been clear just how much you needed that until you came and fuck did you feel on cloud nine now. As you rolled over onto your stomach to stare up at the ceiling while you rode out the wave of your euphoric high, you swore you heard a series of strange movement just outside your door; a soft few taps that sounded like they were getting farther away which would have been out of place, but the house you were currently boarded up in was old and so you convinced yourself it was nothing.

Besides, if anything was truly wrong, Ghost would have already alerted you by now. 

It was several minutes you just laid there in the silence before you took one last deep breath to calm yourself as you got up to straighten your clothing and re-buttoned your pants, hoping that your self-pleasuring session had gone completely unnoticed to your companion as you headed back down stairs to double check that everything was still secure.

In his usual spot you found him standing, always watching with that unblinking gaze, but as you stepped into the living room his sight was immediately drawn to you. “Hey,” you greeted him, “everything still okay out there?”

The usual grunted reply was returned and you stepped over to where he stood, just to take a look for yourself. It didn’t hurt to have another set of eyes to catch things and you felt more comfortable checking for yourself anyway. Scanning the area outside you saw nothing out of place, but as you pulled back from the window you were met with those cold eyes directly staring at you.

Silently Ghost’s large hand came up to touch your cheek, rubbing his thumb across a certain flush pooling there that drew his curiosity and he grunted with a nod of his head at it. You diverted your gaze, suddenly self-conscious about how warm they were still, like a fucking beacon calling attention to what it was you were doing upstairs; not that you cared, but shit you didn’t need your business plastered all over your face like that.

“It’s nothing,” you reassured him with a chuckle. “Just got a bit warm I guess. I promise I’m not infected or anything like that.”

Fully expecting him to take you at your word you went to move over to the sofa, but his hand clung to the side of your face to keep you in your place. You tilted your head as he shook his own side to side slowly. 

“What? Don’t believe me?” you picked, slightly concerned about this strange development; he had not acted in such a way before and you did not know if it was a part of the infection or not. 

Again he shook his head before his eyeline lowered down your body until his sight stopped at the crotch of your pants. Shit, had he heard you? Could he smell the trace amounts cum still clinging to your cunt? There was no real way to tell, but the way his eyeline kept drifting down before meeting your own again was enough to indicate that he was aware of what you had just done. 

You cleared your throat. “You know what I was doing, don’t you?” you asked and was met with another nod, this time to the affirmative.

Well, nothing to do about it now; what was the point of denying it? “Look, I just… needed something to take the edge off okay?” you spurted out. “I mean fuck, I still have needs, even if they had to be put on the back burner for a bit while we tried not to get overrun. You of all people should know how I get sometimes. At least I was quiet enough not to cause problems for us.”

Ghost looked back at you with those milky white eyes, but there was something behind them, something that you recognized, something… yearning. Suddenly you were aware that his other hand was on your hip now, tracing sloppy circles around the soft warm skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

Goddamn the familiarity of his fingers lingering over old paths they used to take in times almost forgotten; if you closed your eyes, it was like you were right there back with him. Your chest was tight with the increased thumping of your heartbeat in your throat, the air not filling up your lungs as well now as he pulled you in a little closer to him until your bodies were against one another. 

That was when you felt something against your thigh.

“Can you…?” you risked asking the question. No, there was no way that he could still get hard, right? Right? 

A large, cold hand wrapped around your wrist and brought it down to his crotch where he rested your palm against it and to your surprise the bulge in his pants responded to your touch. Your eyes shot back up to his as your breathing hitched. 

“Fuck,” you murmured and was promptly met with a grunt from him followed by a deep chuckle. 

Perhaps it was the history, the knowledge of what his body used to give you; perhaps it was the need that you had not truly quenched fully yet; perhaps it was your memories that you’d used as you touched yourself; or maybe it was as simple as you still wanted him; whatever the reason it didn’t matter. All you knew was that you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more of what you started upstairs.  

Hesitantly your fingers grasped at his shirt, slowly tugging at the seam as if to silently ask to be allowed to remove it. Never letting his gaze waiver, Ghost raised his arms and allowed you to pull it up and off over his head. His body was just as you remembered, though quite a bit more pale and the flesh discolored in places, but all the lines and bumps, scars and imperfections were the same and as you ran those delicate fingertips over his skin it all came flooding back.

This is crazy, you told yourself. But it was the end of the world after all, why not go out with a bang?

“It’s been a while,” you said, gaze taking him all in. “God, you always did make my heart race just taking off your shirt, ya know.”

“Uhh,” he grunted in agreement. 

The contrast in body temperature between you both was stark and he enjoyed the warm, tingling feeling your finger left behind wherever they went. He had not felt such a phenomenon in so long that it was like lightening striking inside his mind as nerve endings reignited. It went the same with his pants as you undid them to let them hang loosely around his hips.

Following your lead, he helped you out of your shirt as well so that you stood bare chests facing one another. Your nipples were already hardening as they hit the cool air and he ran a fingertip over the tiny rosebuds to feel them. You were perfection, a sight of decadent flesh that fueled that hungry need he had to abruptly cut off before and the more he stared the more it grew.

The couch sat just behind you and taking your hand in his he moved the few steps over it to take a seat. Grabbing onto your hips and turning you around, he pulled you down onto his lap to sit on top of him. That throbbing bulge barely covered by the pants slipping off him was straining even harder now and you had to open your legs so that it could comfortably stand at attention in between them.

Situated on him you leaned your warm, bare back against his chest, those muscles that you knew by touch alone were now clammy, yet still familiarly fit against you just as they always had. Ghost took those stiff, cold fingers and ran them slowly down the line of your neck to your chest, around the tissue of your breast and down still to the curve of your hip. 

Being touched that way by another, by him, after so fucking long made your skin tingle and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to close your eyes and simply enjoyed the icy prickles his fingers created. He brought those fingers back up all the winding way to your throat and then back down again, except he did not stop at your hip this time. 

Lower he walked those decaying digits into your lap, then inside the waistband of your jeans, and then all the way down until he was inside your panties. You didn’t try to stop him, instead letting your knees fall open to give him more access. The further he went the more he could feel just how warm you were, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his pulse-less palm as he cupped his hand around your sex.

“Christ,” you exclaimed in shock as your body jolted against him, your pussy still a good bit sensitive from before. 

“Uhhh,” he groaned in response, intrigued by how much he enjoyed causing such a visceral reaction and wanting to replicate it. 

Again your scent filled his nostrils, those delicious pheromones that he had caught a whiff of earlier, and it began to awaken something primal within him. Taking his fingers, he drug them heavily over the slit of your cunt until they slipped between your petals and into that still dripping core. Again your body jolted into him as those thick fingers rubbed the length until he found what he had unconsciously been searching for: a small bundle towards the top. 

“Ugh,” that deep groan was more breathless this time, as if he were enjoying the feeling of your juices coating his fingers.  

Cool fingers began stroking against your clit with a rhythm that was ingrained in him from past experience and it was like falling right back into old habits. Your hips started to roll over his hand as they were want to do in response to his movements so that it was like a dance of give and take and he had to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping, but it was worth it to feel the way your body moved.

Like an animal a strange compulsion awakened inside, enhanced by the disease coursing through his veins, and the untamed part of his new nature was flooded with the need to rut into you. The more music you made, the more it filled his chest until the sensation became too much to quell. 

With a growl he moved you both to the floor in a rush, ripping your jeans off of you in one strong tug before pushing you forward and pulling your hips up so that you had to get on your knees. He too knelt behind you as he shoved the fabric of his clothing down enough to release his engorged cock and taking both of your hips into his preternatural grasp, so firm that his fingertips made the muscle sting, he aligned the head with your slit. 

This was crazy, highly dangerous, and slightly insane, but you couldn’t stop, not with how your body felt being pleasured for the first time in well over a year by someone who knew it. Whatever the consequences you’d deal with them later, right now you just needed to be filled to the brim with everything he had. 

Instinct knew what to do and slipping through your petals a few times, he rested the head against your opening and with a strong thrust shoved himself inside as far as he could go. Goddamn you had forgotten the actual feeling of how big he was, but there must be something in being undead that made him even more engorged because his girth almost more than the walls of your pussy could handle. Fuck, you were so full of him that when he finally pulled out of you it would feel so goddamn empty it would physically hurt.

You were aware that his cool palm was on your back now, running up the length of your spine to just between your shoulders where Ghost stopped to shove your top half down further into the ground so that your ass would rise more and without more of pause he began to thrust in and out of you furiously. Each stroke stretched you out more until the sting subsided and that was left was the satisfying euphoria that comes with being filled so full.

“Simon,” you moaned out his name and a dormant part of his brain lit up. Hearing it for the first time upstairs was nice, but being inside of you as you breathed life into that moniker was the highest level of ecstasy he had experienced yet.

And he need more. “UH,” he growled with force as he slammed into you from behind to make your ass bounce off of his hips. 

You braced your hands under your head to steady yourself, but it did little; the man inside of you was gone and all you could do was hang on. Still, even with his roughness, the way his cock still reached those desperate nerve endings inside of you made the arch of your back even more pronounced. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you choked out the exclamation as your voice vibrated from the impacts. 

Harder and faster Ghost pounded your pussy from behind, throwing caution to the wind as he grunted and groaned like a beast on the hunt about to capture a fresh kill. You were so fucking warm, so gorgeously wet, that even his dead skin felt reanimated so that each brush of your body against him had him reeling in pleasure. 

This was the closest he would get to feeling like a living thing again.

Stopping suddenly he ripped his cock out of you amidst your begging protests to flip you onto your back, brutishly pulling your ass onto his knees. Your thighs rested high around his torso, squeezing against him as he immediately thrust back into that warm, wet hole and expeditiously returned to that overwhelming rhythm. 

The room was filled with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as Ghost worked your hole for all it was worth with a reckless abandon that you had not seen in him before. This wasn’t love, not something tender, but only pure animalistic lust and the more he stroked in and out of you the more he needed.

And then he felt it; a warmth in his stomach like he had swallowed coals. It started faint, almost indistinguishable until it had nearly filled him full the more he kept going. 

He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t back down, he was so close he could taste it. You weren’t far off either, nearly at the peak of your second orgasm the harder his cock stroked in and out of you, stimulating your clit along with it just from the pressure of his thrusts. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you pleaded pathetically to him, your toes curling into the air as you focused on your breathing. Right there, it was right there; all he had to do was keep going.   

A few more pumps of him deep in your core and that was it, like a hot flash of white light you cried out in shaky whimpers as your orgasm tore through with such force you shot up as your back arched and your hips bucked harshly into him. “Goddammit Simon, fuck.”

He wasn’t far behind as the warmth that had been building finally shot through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he ripped his cock out of you and through your thighs to cover your stomach in his milky white semen. The roar he released while he drained his cock dry over top of you rang out through the house like a wild animal’s cry until he hung limply over top of you, completely spent.

Everything lay still once again as you caught your breath, allowing your ecstasy to run its course before you even tried to move out from against him. As you came to sit up, once again you were met with his eyes watching you closely. It felt like he was admiring his handiwork: the flush in your cheeks, the sweat speckling your torso, the exhaustion in your limbs. 

He had done that…and he liked it.

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Well, that was something wasn’t it?” you laughed and he chuckled deadoan along with you. 

Maybe the end of the world didn’t have to be so bad after all. At least, now you both knew that there were ways to have a little fun… and oh fuck, were you going to keep having little bits of fun.

[gallierhouse]

I genuinely don’t understand how Lestat is likable. Charming, handsome, seductive, sure. But likable? Imagine being a vampire. You’ve presumably been a vampire for a while. You live in the sewers and do nothing but self-flagellation and worship Satan. Then Lestat appears, and he’s a stage actor, and he’s beautiful and he lives his life in the light, not hidden away in shame. He fraternizes with humans, he’s a part of their society. Then you find out that he was made by Magnus, the same Magnus that deserted your Satan-worshipping cult, the all-powerful Magnus who only ever made one fledgling, and then immediately fucked off and died, leaving Lestat with his blood, power, and money. Lestat is the ultimate nepotism baby of Parisian vampire society at this point. So your boss goes to put him in line, and despite your boss overpowering Lestat physically, psychically, mentally, in literally every conceivable manner, Lestat somehow wins. He does this not through vampiric thrall or physical power, but simply by waltzing into the sewer and giving an arrogant little speech and throwing crucifix on the ground. Any vampire there could’ve killed him in an instant. But they don’t, and suddenly he’s their new leader, and he makes them all move to a theatre and rejoin human society, put on plays, etc. Then he goes back to the sewer to hook up with your leader who he’s utterly humiliated, and he comes back with new powers because he’s got the blood of two ancient vampires now, and then he fucks your old leader in a theatre box for everyone to see. Then some sort of boyfriend drama occurs, someone dies, it’s unclear, which leads him to bury himself in the ground for sixty years, and the moment he wakes up he immediately leaves for America. No goodbyes, no here’s my new address for future correspondence, he just leaves. Then you don’t hear from this man who liberated then led then enslaved you into being a theatre employee all while fucking your boss so good it permanently rearranged his brain and made him kill that man’s ex-boyfriend for about a hundred years, and then when you do, it turns out he’s been murdered by a child. Not any ordinary child, but his child, and she’s also a failure of a vampire (see: the great laws). So that’s humiliating. But it turns out he’s not really dead and he’s been sulking and eating rats, so you have him shipped back to Paris, and then the most dramatic throuple argument of all time occurs, because did I mention that your leader who used to get fucked by Lestat is now fucking Lestat’s ex-husband? Then you and your friends set up a sham trial to get rid of Lestat’s terrible, ungrateful, misbehaving fledglings and to usurp your leader and Lestat’s ex-situationship, because he’s really gotten annoying and dickmatized by Lestat’s ex-husband at this point, and the trial goes alright, but then Lestat saves his ex-husband (who literally tried to murder him, mind you) and immediately fucks off post-trial. Simultaneously, while the trial is happening, it’s definitely possible that your maitre (well, ex-maitre) at this point is torturing him, possibly because they’re still working out the fact that Lestat ghosted him. Then more time passes and suddenly there’s a book about Lestat published, then another couple years pass and he sells our Madison Square Garden, whatever the fuck that means. Like, it has to be so annoying to be a vampire and to be stuck as nothing but a witness to the hurricane of Lestat. The world moves when he wants it to! It spins on his axis! And he’s done nothing to deserve any of that power besides what, having a cunty little bob?

[moodymisty]

Author's note: @mothiir You wanted it, I delivered. I decided to stop poking at it and just post it or else I’ll keep changing it forever.

Relationships: Konrad Curze/Fem!Reader/Sanguinius

Warnings: NSFW, Not a menage e trois more so like you have your husband and also the feral rat man who comes out from under your bed at night fingers you and then leaves, Double penetration, I will tag incest purely because having your brother join you while you fuck your beloved is pretty fucking weird lol, A bit of breeding kink on Sanguinius' side, Rough sex, Anal

Konrad had been able to tell the moment he caught sight of Sanguinus that he was hungry.

His skin is pallid, feathers oddly misshapen. The spaces under his eyes were just that bit more hollow, his hair was limper and lacked some of that golden glow.

He has been so busy on Terra, fluttering from primarch to primarch giving greetings and advice, he has forgotten- once again- to care for himself. It's unsurprising; He's done this to himself many times before.

He’s talking with Lion now; They’ve been there for hours as the Dark Angels train in the massive open flats of marble tile surrounded by golden pillars.

You aren't with the angel, which doesn't surprise Konrad. While most of the primarchs know of Sanguinius' beloved, who Sanguinius' own sons have begun to call Mother Angel, he doesn't often bring you along when he is preforming his role as primarch.

Konrad thinks it's because he's attempting to spare you from it. To make you think he's less violent, less bloodthirsty than his brothers. He wants you to remain this gentle figure, soothing his sons with your voice and smile when they fall wayward.

Sanguinius in reality is just as bloodthirsty and tyrannical as the rest of them- he is just far better at keeping that side of him covered with silken fabrics and deep within himself, for the sake of his relationship with you. For the sake of seeming like the most human of all of them.

But Konrad... He doesn’t know what the relationship between you and him is. What to call it. How to describe it.

You are Sanguinus’ beloved; But your relationship with him started because Konrad brought you to him in one of those neglectful fits, where Sanguinius refuses to satiate in his own desires. To reap his reward after toiling so hard to save the galaxy.

But despite you being fully loyal to your angel, your lord husband, your primarch, both you and said angel have been more than amicable in letting Konrad continue to, indulge.

He’s never felt less like garbage- dirty water flowing through a sewer pipe. He knows your heart is bound to Sanguinus, but you’ve reserved a place somewhere in it for him. He is fine with that arrangement; It is far more than he would've ever expected to have. More than he would've even dared to think he could have. But he still feels as if he shouldn't touch you- you're The Mother Angel, and yet you are often at mercy to the blood stained hands of a nightmare in the dark.

Your gentle hands weave through his greasy hair; He feels the soft smooth caress of your skin.

‘You deserve respect just as much as them, I don’t believe that your birthplace should deny you that.’

He remembers a bit of a vision that had racked his mind little more than a week ago. He wonders when it will come to pass.

A vision he… Looks forward to.

Perhaps this situation is the least kept secret between the two legions; Sanguinus has hinted that his sons are displeased he allows the Night Haunter near their legion mother. While most of his own Night Lords find the situation amusing. Shang jokes that he is slowly turning their legion mother into something other than an angel- and Konrad doesn't find the jest entirely inaccurate. Other Night Lords often goad fights by making remarks about the Sanguinius' beloved and Curze, of which rarely ends without some form of altercation.

Once Lion finally leaves and Sanguinius is suitably alone, Konrad pulls himself from the shadow of a large marble pillar and starts walking towards him. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his loose trousers, the oversized cloth covering his torso hiding most of his body's shape.

"You don't look very well."

Sanguinius turns to look at him, before loosing the expression of mild surprise in place of irritation over Konrad's upfront observation.

"I could say the same about you, brother."

Raking a hand through his wavy blonde hair he adds a bit of body to it, so it isn't laying as lifeless against his face. But even after doing so Konrad can still see the dull sheen of his skin and hair.

“How long has it been since you've been with her? She’s more than healthy for you to bite her again.”

Sanguinus looks at him tired and a more than a bit irritated, shifting his tight jaw. His feathers are tight to his wings, and Konrad catches one twitch out of the corner of his eye. Turning away, Sanguinius sighs and purses his lips before managing to gather his words.

“I... Do not have the time to indulge myself like that.” Konrad rolls his eyes.

“Then make the time.”

Sanguinus stutters just a bit, as if somehow not expecting him to be so succinct.

“I cannot just, abandon my brothers- I only have so long with them before we are all separated again on our own journeys.”

Konrad lets out a sharp laugh, taking his hands from his trouser pockets and gesturing one arm out into the wide open space.

“They are not children, Sanguinus! I am sure Lion and Horus and whoever the fuck else demands your presence can more than survive in the few hours you don’t gossip with them.” Konrad gestures vaguely behind him with a pale, bony hand.

"Go. Eat. Go fuck her- do both I don't care, or I will drag you there myself. I didn't give her to you so you could lock her away and not enjoy yourself."

Sanguinius doesn't falter yet, and holds firm that he is far too busy to indulge his inhuman appetite. No matter how much Konrad thinks he deserves it; To take what he wants after so long of giving.

If this method won’t work, then perhaps he’ll have to change gears. Konrad's face is somewhat neutral and loses his previous frustration.

“You know she misses you, yes? She wants you.”

Sanguinus softens expression slightly. He's assuming Konrad has been near you quire recently, he can smell the scent of your perfume distantly around him. He had gifted it to you.

“Her body stinks,” Konrad uses a foul adjective despite the smell being the exact opposite; inhumanly addicting to the post-human men like Konrad who can smell it. “She wants you to fuck her so badly her body is crying.”

The angel looks away from him, clearly at the thin edge of his patience. In that wayward glance he notices Lion returning- but when he looks back, Konrad is gone.

The quiet of the massive, primarch sized room breaks occasionally from the sound of wet squelching, and the gentle whimpers that you fail to swallow.

Konrad's fingers slip into the wet, velvety heat of your cunt, listening to you cry underneath him. The room is dark other than a few dim light sources in the corners, illuminating just enough for you to see the sinewy figure that traps you if you look over your shoulder. You can only see him caging you onto the bed, a hand pushed beneath the blanket to pull your nightdress high enough to access the apex of your thighs.

"If you're a little louder, maybe you can call him."

Konrad jokes at your expense, commenting on your whines and gasps as he roughly fingers you. They slip so deep inside of you it's like he's finding places untouched, curling and beckoning you that your hands grip the pillows like a lifeline and your legs kick at the air and the blankets; But Konrad's weight holds you firmly in place.

He knows the angel is coming. He can hear the sound of his heavy footsteps, as the bait he had laid was too tempting for him to ignore. Konrad knew it would be.

The door opens not moments later, and he quickly shuts it behind him when he hears the soft, wet noises of your cunt tightly wrapping around Konrad's fingers, and the smell of sex hits his nose.

"Konrad, she should be asleep."

He laughs, pulling his fingers from your greedy cunt and looking over his shoulder at Sanguinius. The angel is on his last edge, swallowing thickly.

The smell in the air is sheer torment to him; You already were so sweet smelling when you were aroused, but now underneath that sweet scent is the heavier note of your body telling him you're fertile. Konrad was right.

He had done the dirty work of making sure you could take them, relaxing and stretching your cunt until your own juices were slick down your inner thighs.

You still looked a bit drowsy as you lay trapped in the position you'd been sleeping in on your belly- though Konrad had little care about waking you up with the fabric of your underwear being torn away- listening to the cute little scream you let out muffled by the heat of his palm.

"She'll be fine. Come here."

The tired angel stands firm, despite the way the knot of his throat bobs when he swallows. Konrad rolls his eyes. Sanguinius continues to try and ignore his own urges, and it pisses him off.

"Fine. Then I'll fuck her myself."

That sentence is what finally draws an explosive reaction from Sanguinius, who suddenly takes multiple steps forward and almost reaches a hand out for him. Konrad can hear the borderline growl in his voice, the strain of holding back something far more primal than what he's ever shown beyond the battlefield.

“You don’t touch her cunt. Not now.”

He acquiesces, if only because he finds Sanguinus' defense of your fertile womb amusing.

“Fine. She has other holes.”

Konrad pulls away to allow the Angel to descend upon you, the pearly white of his wings seemingly glowing even in the dim lighting of the room.

"But then you better use it. The little whore has been begging to get fucked all these days you've abandoned her here."

Sanguinius pulls you from the blankets you were entangled in and into his lap, hands wrapping around your waist. You latch to him like he's been gone for years and go to kiss him, pressing your lips against his. The angle is awkward, Sanguinius sitting on the edge of the bed back arched to meet your wanting kiss. One hand slips between you both to undo his trousers, and the back of his hand brushes along your dripping cunt. You push your hips forward to follow the sensation of his warm skin, clit pressing against the back of his hand.

By the Throne he can smell it; The normal scent of your dripping arousal, along with something more. It tugs at his sanity and his hunger like fishhooks caught in a cheek.

His cock throbs in his hand as he frees it, and when he moves to notch the head of his cock at your entrance, you keen and gasp at the stretch; Hips wiggling.

"You're not going to eat first?"

Konrad says, hovering nearby and moving closer. The angel watches his every step. He's still wearing all of his clothing; It covers most of his thin form in a shapeless mass of dark fabric contrasting against his pale skin. Sanguinius hesitates for a moment, watching the way your small hands grasp at his own clothes, the bottom of your nightdress just barely covering your thighs and hiding the sight of his cock sinking into you.

"This is, this is more important."

Konrad laughs, showing his sharp canines.

"Sure, brother."

Konrad rounds to the back of you, as Sanguinius slowly moves to seat you onto his cock. The minute he's fully rooted in your cunt he can hear your desperate whimpers, full to the absolute brim. Even after multiple times, after so long of being teased and worked open, taking a primarch is still leaves you with almost no space to spare. The head of his cock lands frighteningly close to your cervix, threatening to knock on it.

Hands still covered in the sticky sweetness of your cunt, Konrad steps closer behind you- reaching a hand towards you. He glances to see Sanguinius' eyes. They're sharp and dark, near feral; Letting Konrad close but watching.

"What are you doing,"

He says when Konrad reaching a hand towards you and listens to the way you suddenly gasp, tightening around his cock. The feeling makes Sanguinius' teeth grind against each other, the already tight velvety feeling of our walls clenching around him like a vice at the other primarch's colder and less forgiving touch.

"I said she other holes. You didn't think I was going to come in here, warm her up for you and then leave without taking something for myself, did you?"

Sanguinius hums but it sounds more like a growl, allowing him into your personal space as Konrad slips two fingers into you. You mumble underneath your harsh breathes, of which Konrad hears but chooses not to heed.

"Konrad, go... Go slow,"

For a brief moment, Konrad wonders how much longer he'll be allowed to indulge in you, if Sanguinius is getting this possessive. He would be foolish to think this arrangement would last forever; In the end he knows he's getting to enjoy things he doesn't deserve.

He also knows that Sanguinus wants to get you pregnant. And if he manages it, Konrad knows you’ll be forever out of his reach.

"Konrad!"

You suddenly squeal as he pushes his fingers deeper into your ass, thrusting them in and out of you, the juices of your cunt making them slide in and out of you with without too much resistance. His other hand clumsily pulls at the groin of his loose and ragged trousers, trying to free himself. His fingers rock you on Sanguinius' cock, your thighs shaking as they already threaten to crumble under your own weight.

Once he manages to free himself, it isn't long before he takes a step closer and removes his fingers, replacing them with the head of his cock.

Sanguinius is already so much that it feels like your stomach is full up to your throat, and Konrad adds even more so much so that it feels like you're going to get rearranged and permanently changed.

As he pushes the head of his cock into you he hears the way you let out choked, desperate whines, hands tightening on Sanguinius nails digging into his skin. He feels your muscles clench and it almost hurts- how tight you are, but he loves it.

"Konrad- Konrad that's too much-"

He ignores your pleas; You're not in pain, if you were you'd be crying, begging and hiccuping-

He pushes himself deeper and deeper and feels your guts wrap so tight around him, as you lean forward into Sanguinius' chest.

"You're fine my love, you can take all of him, can't you?" Konrad talks over Sanguinius' soothing praises.

"She is, the little whore is damn well going to or I'm going to f-"

You gasp as he pushes even deeper, managing to seat himself entirely inside of you and feel the fabric of his trousers against the bare skin of your ass and thighs.

You've always felt that full, overwhelmed feeling whenever it was just one of them fucking you, but now you feel like one is going to push the other out, fighting for the limited space inside of you, or they will just readjust your organs to make room for the both of them. You don't know if you'll ever feel the same after.

Your nails dig into Sanguinius' flesh but fail to leave little more than marks, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as Konrad roughly pushes himself deeper. You didn't think he could but you gasp as he pulls out a bit and shoves himself back in, putting your forehead to Sanguinius' chest. Your clit throbs, stomach twisting in knots as they bully your insides and grind against nerves barely touched inside of you. Pressed between the two Primarchs they both argue over how to treat you, while in the end you’re stuck between them as a tight, warm thing to fuck.

"Careful. She's mine. I won't have you breaking her."

Konrad laughs, ignoring the snarl that stays on Sanguinius' face when the man thinks Konrad won't take him seriously.

"I won't. Unless she wants me to," Konrad leans down and puts his mouth close to your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin and his teeth nip at the shell of your ear, threatening to nick skin.

"Do you want me to? I can fuck you rough enough to tear you apart, you'll cry and cry and you'll never be the same-"

Sanguinius makes a noise deep in his throat and one of his hands raises to push the paler man away, and Konrad backs off with a sneer teeming with discontent while continuing to fuck your ass.

The two continue to drive themselves into you, pressing your body between them as you cry helplessly. Sanguinus holds your waist tight, keeps you upright against his chest, trying to support you as your body finally gives out from the abuse they're putting your body through. Sanguinius can feel when you cum around him, thighs quaking as your velvety walls clench around him. You don't have the voice to let out more than a shaky cry however, trying to catch your breath.

Konrad grits his teeth as you tighten around him, mewling as he relentlessly forces himself as deep as he can manage. He’s close, his hands grip your hips pulling you closer as you arch your back.

Konrad hisses as he finally cums inside of you, filling you with a seemingly never-ending warmth that makes you let out a weak, defeated moan. It wavers like you want to cry, and the sound almost makes him want to fuck you all over again.

Konrad pulls out of you, hearing your whimpers of complaint. His cum gently leaks down your thigh, but you don't have the energy to say much more. Sanguinius however stays seated in you just a bit longer, using the freedom of Konrad being done with you to have his fill. He bounces you on his cock with an urgency that says he's close, and mere moments later does he finally finish and coat your insides with and overwhelming amount of cum. He eventually pulls from you and watches his own cum dribble from your battered cunt and down your thighs, mixing with Konrad's.

Once he's finished, and hears your heart and your breathing begin to calm, he lays your back onto the blankets- watching you lay limp underneath him.

Sanguinius nudges your neck to the side, exposing the vein that runs along it. You look up at him softly and tilt your jaw in the way that exposes it to him enough so that he can see the throb of your heartbeat through your skin.

"Stay still, my love. You know what to do."

You feel his lips brush along your neck trying to find that perfect spot, before he opens them and presses his teeth against your skin. The moment he puts pressure on them you whimper, feeling you skin break, and Sanguinius' hands slide along your skin before gripping tight to stop you from wiggling.

His mind is foggy, the taste of your blood is intoxicating against his tongue and he can feel his body gaining strength again- He also hears Konrad's one note laugh faintly. While Sanguinius may not be coherent enough in the moment, he does appreciate that Konrad keeps an eye on him when he does this.

Sanguinius has incredible restraint over his curse, but it would only take one tiny slip up, a little error, before you were hurt or killed. He doesn't even want to entertain the idea of that happening.

He pulls away from your neck, licking his lips to catch the droplets of you blood he missed, still tasting the sweet iron in his mouth. Two beads of blood threaten to drip from the small wound he's made in your neck, and he leans back down to lick them away and kiss the bruising wound he's left you with.

You're tired, fucked into oblivion and now woozy from Sanguinius' meal, as you lay against the blankets. Your nightdress is wrinkled and bunched, and Sanguinius can see the tattered remains of your underwear on the floor from Konrad's ambush.

When the angel looks around however, he notices that Konrad is already gone.

[pixeechix21]

The Ritual

Reader x Slytherin boys (Matteo and Theo)

Summary: When the ritual begins, the dark gives light to desires that need to be satisfied. You are a Slytherin and there’s the initiation for Last Year students. Pansy begs you to go, but what makes you agree is because, the Slytherin boys were betting you wouldn’t because you're a goody two shoes. When you arrive at the bonfire in the Forbidden Forest you're teased by Matteo and Theo.

TW: where do I start??? degradation kink, praise kink, primal, threesome, rough, M/M/F, blood, fighting, oral, p in v, fear kink, being chased, almost suggestion of rape (didn’t happen phew), trapping(idk wt it means necessarily but like it makes sense), teasing

WC:2.8K ish

Heading towards the dungeons you were ready to take off your tie and huddle up, hidden away from them. Entering the high vaulted main room, you search for them making sure you're safe. Pansy shrieks excitedly as soon as you take a step further. She runs up and hugs, “bitch where the fuck have you been!” she takes hold of you and steers you to the large leather couches situated in an arc, full of giggling girls. “Hey, y/n,” a couple smile and continue gossiping in whispering voices. You let yourself curl up between Pansy and Oliva. 

“Yeah, Snape wanted me after class to talk about extra work,” you explain, trying to play it cool and that you definitely weren’t getting some from Gryffindor. 

“Boo! You overachiever,” Pansy teases. “So you going?” She looks eagerly. It takes you a moment to realize what she was asking.

“Ehhhhh-”

“For the love of god, you better be,” she threatens.

“But I have to study and honestly I don’t want to be out there freezing my ass off,” you complain. You wanted to go but you really did have work you hadn’t done any of the assignments for tomorrow.

“You won’t be freezing your ass off if someone’s grabbing it. Pleeease,” she grabs your arms giving you faux puppy dog eyes. “We can even leave. After midnight,” she negotiates. You’re unsure, you’re low key excited about the Ritual, but… your brain tries to reason.

“Yeah pleeease, I know someone that’d want to get some,” Matteo's voice mocks from behind us. Aw shit, the Heirs. 

“Shut up Matteo, go find a fourth year to play with,” you retaliate facing the group of boys. Each tall and darkly handsome each in their own right. 

"Aww don't say that you know i prefer third years," he mockingly puts a hand to his heart in hurting. "I was merely offering an option."

"Ew Matteo," you, Pansy and Liv say in unison, rolling your eyes. "Anyways she would go for a dick like you, she's got Simon from Ravenclaw to help" she points out completely forgetting that that was said in confidence and that he broke it off to pursue "true love" or some shit. 

"We all know Simon couldn't please you," Tom chirps in walking along, already bored of this child's play. You roll your eyes and face forward ignoring their laughs echoing down from the boy's dorms. 

"He's not wrong he has that rat out of a sewer vibe," Liv agrees watching as your face screws up in a smile as you agree. 

"I'll go," you finally say.

"Yes bitch!" Pansy squeals again, jumping up and running to your room. 

The ritual is a customary initiation for final year Slytherins. All the staff know about it but they don't have enough energy to deal with stopping it from happening. It happens on the last weekend of autumn term, where everyone drinks endlessly and there's always a game involved. Hunt or be hunted; separate the mundane from the ambitious. 

As soon as Snape is reported to be tucked away in his master room, the students slowly scuttle out of the dungeons like mice, out to the dark forest. 

Pansy is readjusting her tits to be pushed out further, you shake your head giggling. "Shut up you're blessed with amazing tits," she dismisses you pulling down your shirt to stop you from hiding yourself. "Show what your mama gave you babies." The cold encircles your body and the full moon lights the path into the forest. In the middle behind a tangle of trees there's a small clearing in the middle a large bonfire burns. You see a page flutter up in the flames, probably used old books instead of fire, you think. You're nervous, unsure of the darkness and the rowdy teens drinking. Pansy spotted her boy toy and she left the bottle in hand. You walk around talking to others, slowly warming up as the fire burns brighter. Then just as everyone settled down, there was a shouting announcing, “everyone shut the fuck up!” On top of a newly fallen tree stood Draco. 

“As you all know tonight is the sacred night of the Ritual!” Everyone lifts their drinks shouting in excitement. “Alright alright, tonight’s special game is Tag, boys versus girls, as we are gentlemen we’ll let the ladies have a head start.” He goes on mischievously. “The Forbidden Forest is filled with monstrous creatures, but don’t lose sight of the real dangers. Us.” There’s geering all around. You search for Pansy but she’s nowhere to be seen. Don’t be a pussy, a small voice tells you. Inhaling deeply you accept the consequences whatever they will be. It’s a game, and you’re the chestmaster you got this, you hype yourself out. 

“We’ll start in 10 minutes,” Tom shouts. Everyone spreads out, you head out to search for a route. “The winners will be given the honorary title of King and Queen of Slytherine, and will be placed as head girl and boy of Slytherine house.”

“You warmed up?” Matteo cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. “I can give you a hand. Get you ready,” he steps closer. You instinctively step back. 

“Where you off to little bunny, we haven’t said go,” Theo breathes out smoke. The pungent smoke fills your lungs as you suck in your breath. He’s directly behind you, sandwiching you in.

“Go fuck yourself,” you say snarkily. Your chest rising up and down, tits rising and falling out of your small shirt. Matteo’s dead eyes look down to your chest, and smiles slightly, running his tongue over his teeth. Like a wolf ready to eat. 

“Trust me, I’d rather you do it,” he says slowly, inching closer. Theo chuckles as you step back again, this time his large hands take hold of your waist to steady you. A small hum of agreement comes from him. 

“I’d fuck your dad before you,” you spit out glaring up at Matteo. Challenging him further.

“Ha! I never thought power would be what gets you hot and heavy y/n,” he teases.

You’ve had enough, there’s too much adrenaline and alcohol running through your body to the point you’ve lost all reasonability, because suddenly you’re getting extremely hot. There’s a stirring down between your legs as he grabs your chin so that you look up at him. Feeling both of their hands holding you there, you feel trapped, encircled and being toyed with. 

Draco is counting down to zero and you’re starting to anticipate your escape. “Be careful little bunny,” Matteo starts.

“Wouldn’t want a big bad wolf to catch you,” Theo finishes, flicking his cigarette away. As Draco shouts zero, they both step aside, a devilish smirk plastered on their faces. They watch you intently as you start to walk away backwards then you turn around and bolt it.

There’s screams and giggles of girls as we make our way through the dark forest. I don’t even want to be the head girl you think regretting coming, the comfortable thought of your books and studies sounds like a much better option. You’ve slowed your running shouting and giggles only  distant echoes now. “Run run, bunny,” a voice says. You stop spinning around trying to gauge where the voice came from. The silence chills you to your bones, and you go into a sprint again. There’s laughing all around. You want to barf from the heavy breathing and alcohol. You check behind you, “GOT YOU!” Caleb James shouts, scaring the living shit out of you as he jumps out and takes hold of you. “Look who it is, the slytherin heirs’ slut,” he jeers, his breath stinks as he talks closely to your face, you turn your head in disgust. “Bet you’ll open your legs for me,” he starts to manhandle you and you scream for help. Your wand had fallen to the floor when he caught you. “Shut up slut,” he shakes you vigorously. There’s a snap of a twig in the dark. He stops his movements. You try to break free. Two dark figures step out of the shadows, their black clothes like camouflage. You never thought you’d be happy to see them. One of them advances upon you guys, he raises his fist and punches Caleb. A splatter of blood falls on your face, you step back watching them. Matteo dodges a swing and gets him in the ribs. Theo goes from behind and holds Caleb in a lock, “don’t you ever fucking try that you mud blood,” Matteo growls as he lands punches mercilessly. “Let him go he’s mine,” Theo steps back and Matteo tackles him to the floor.

Caleb gets Matteo breaking blood, a small stream coursing on his face. “Stop! Teo stop you’re going to kill him!” You yell. “Stop him Theo!” You jerk your head to Theo who’s watching happily taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“No this is all him,” he chuckles. Matteo’s knuckles are covered in blood and the boy isn’t responding any more. Face swollen and already purpling. After a second of two, Theo pushes off the tree, “alright I’m bored. Get off Matteo,” Matteo grabs Caleb's shirt and pulls him close, he says something that you can’t hear and then pushes him down.

He looks up at you as he gets up. “You okay?” He says quietly. His breath is erratic, a wild excited look fills his dark eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” you start.

“A thank you would be polite,” he says sarcastically, approaching you. You can smell the blood and mint and he exhales from his mouth. Without you realizing your hand goes up and swipes his split lip, wiping some blood away. Suddenly he stops you by your wrist mid air. He takes you in close. He towers over you, “thank you,” you whisper. You’re released and snap out of the trance. Theo offers his blunt, taking it you relax as the smoke cradles you. “You caught me,” you laugh, not sure how to process those brief seconds you were scared for your life. 

“What’s the prize?” Theo teases, raising an eyebrow. 

“Come here and I’ll give it to you,” you joke. Well you thought you were joking until his shadow blocks the light of the moon and his black eyes gleam cravingly. You pull his head down, he opens his mouth slightly. You kiss him. His hands wrap around you and his tongue dominates your mouth. Ravaging your lips. Wanting to play with them like they did you, you break apart he looks disappointed at this. You put the blunt to your lips and breathe, exhaling as you eye Matteo who’s looking jealous at the scene in front of him. “And you,” you direct at him. Already your panties are wet with the idea of having them both. At the same time. 

Pansy would laugh her ass off, you think humorously. 

He comes to you with his hands snaking to your ass as he pulls you in close. He licks his lips, his eyes hooded heavily in lust. His kiss was determined. He wanted to show you. Force you to see that he’s the one you need. Behind you you feel Theo press himself into your ass, already growing harder you feel his dick on your back making you gulp. Reaching for him you pull his face into your neck, obediently he places hurtful kisses and bites up and down it. Matteo’s hot body firmly pushes you to Theo. Matteo’s hand needs your tits, as Theo’s moves down in front to your panties, his cold hands play between your wetness. You moan as you're over-stimulated. Turning your face to take Theo’s lips and bite. A clash of teeth and tongue. “You’re so wet for us bunny,” he moans. Matteo distances himself and looks at you both. Staring. He gets turned on at the idea of you entangled in his best friend's hands. He envisions himself giving you unbearable pleasure. How it’s hard to restrain himself and take you all for himself. “Take it off. Now.” He crosses his arms glaring at you as you make eye contact with him. Theo breaks away. First your pants fall to the floor. Your nipple hardens evermore at the chill and pure neediness. “More,” Theo presses. Lifting your shirt over your head that joins your pants on the floor. Tantalizingly you undo your bra. Then look through your lashes as you take off your pink panties.

They inhale at the sight of your beautiful naked body, both of them on the edge of tearing you apart. Your skin buzzes excitedly as you get on your knees in front of them. Your mouth starts salivating at the thought of having them both. “Want us both?” Matteo provokes. You nod your head, your hands eager to undo their belts. 

“Greedy little bitch,” Theo takes your hair and pulls it harshly. Your clit is crying to be touched, throbbing painfully. You can’t take it anymore. An unspoken agreement went between the boys, Matteo took you and Theo stood and watched. You have no time to react as you're thrown down, you hear the jingle and zipper coming undone. His hand palms your ass bruising it, you feel him slide his large tip up and down your slit, pushing in slightly then pulling out. Sexual frustration builds in you so much that you press your ass to him. “Needy little whore,” he chuckles as he thrusts himself in. Your back arches as he unfurls his hatred for you. There is no gentleness in his thrusts, none. He takes his hand to your front and starts edging you to your orgasm. Circling fast then slowly, taking you almost to the top then lets you settle down. Over and over he plays these cruel games. Theo eyes flare up as you look at him, eyes half open as if drugged by the sex, mouth open, you pant and moan. 

“You sound so pretty,” he crouches down, clearing a loose strand of hair, tucking it delicately behind your ear. He kisses you then stands up taking off his belt. “Take this Matteo, give her a lesson or two about power,” he hands his belt to Teo. He releases his grip from you and snaps the belt. The loud snap echoes in the dark.

 The Ritual so sexual and forbidden, it inspires even the most demonic of creatures. 

Matteo lets the belt hit you once, twice, three times each time, stinging more than before. You’re going to hate sitting down tomorrow. Theo comes back into your sight, his hard cock begging to be released. 

“Open wide bunny,” Matteo commands, setting down the belt and going back to circling your clit feverishly. As you come opening your mouth to let out sounds of pleasure Theo thrusts his dick into your mouth. His hands steady your head as he face fucks you, “fuck you’re better than I’d ever imagined,” you see sweat build on his forehead. “Look at you, such a beautiful little whore,” he wipes the strands of hair that are plastered to your face. 

“Fuck- God y/n you feel like heaven,” Matteo brakes out, as his own fucking doesn’t slow. You're so full that you start to feel another build up, it’s too much. It’s just enough. It’s not enough. Delirium comes over you as you cunt throbs, and you can breathe. The boys’ moaning and animalistic fucking sounds like a symphony to you. You cry out as you come again losing all control of your body. Theo finishes and wipes his come from your lips and you lick them clean as told so. Matteo’s nails mark you as he finishes ruthlessly. 

All three of you are a mess. Theo offers you a hand to stand up as Matteo helps you dress, picking out leaves from your clothes. Both treating you like a queen. You are lost, and they guide you back. “We found her! The Queen of Slytherin!” Theo takes your hand and bows. You are absolutely bamboozled at the fact that there were students playing tag and that they’re all cheering not knowing what just happened. Pansy yelled happily and you just nodded, thanking people as you passed by and headed to bed.

Because God knows the pain you’ll be in tomorrow.

[normal-internet-user]

I love your bayverse siblings stories!! Would you write what they’d be like as uncles?

Aww they'd be the best uncles istg

BAYVERSE BOYS AS UNCLES

....................................

Most likely you're April and Casey's kid,

Wether biologically or adopted, doesn't matter.

They fucking adore you.

When April first brought you to see them when you were just a baby,

They were all terrified to hold you.

Raph straight up said, "Oh fuck no."

Mikey literally cried when April handed you to him, and there is a video of it.

He was just so happy and you were so cute and tiny 😭

Donnie was shaking so bad he had to let Leo hold you first,

Leo didn't want to let you go.

He did so, very, very, reluctantly.

They babaysit you all the time. No questions asked.

"Hey would you guys watch (Name), for afew hours? Casey and I-"

"Absolutely."

As you start growing up, they start competeing to see who your favorite uncle is.

Even though you're literally like, two.

Give you a juice box and they might as well be god.

Mikey gets in trouble sometimes for trying to be the coolest uncle,

One time, you guys were playing hide and seek, and you got the bright idea to wander into the sewers so you woukd be the ultimate winner.

Alone.

For hours.

Mikey was literally crying because he couldn't find you for so long, then he went to Donnie, who panicked and got Leo and Raph.

Raph was ready to beat Mikey's ass.

Anyway, they found you sitting in the dark playing patty cake with a fucking rat.

Mikey scooped you up, still crying and even though you didn't know why, you just went with it in only the way a toddler can.

Patting his nose, and saying, "Is otay, Mimey, is otay."

No, Mikey was not aloud to watch you alone after that.

No, your parents will never know of the Patty Cake Incident.

(Turns out the rat was dead.)

Leo really likes it when you hang out around him.

You guys have tea parties and invite everyone.

Raph didn't show up one time, and as a punishment Leo makes him wear fairy wings everytime there's a tea party.

Jokes on Leo though because Raph fucking slays in those fairy wings, and you guys always match now.

Donnie lets you nap in his lab since the noise helps you sleep.

You literally cannot nap anywhere except your own room, or Donnie's lab. Literally can't.

And you can't sleep with out the blanky Uncle Raph made you.

Even when you're a teenager, you physically can't sleep without that little old blanket.

Speaking of being a teenager,

Your parents have problems with you sneaking out of school to go hang out of the Lair.

They were't supposed to know :p

Your teachers called April and told her you'd been ditching school,

Twas not a fun day when you got home.

...................................

Boom baby! I'm back at it with the requests! Although, just a little tid bit, I would appreciate it if you read my rules first. I get plenty of requests and I can tell they haven't read my rules (No nsfw asks thank pizza supreme) but still. I can tell.

[prince-dork-the-companion]

Batfamily Presentation Night - Pizza - Cass

Masterlist

Cass: I'll go :)

Duke: Uh-oh.

Tim: Interested to see where this one goes.

Duke: Is this cheating? This feels like cheating.

Jason: When did you make this?

Cass: Before today. :)

Jason: I shouldn't be surprised.

Damian: That is a very useful visual.

Steph: I have nothing to say.

Duke: A good, hardworking employee.

Tim: We should get a cat and name it Cheese.

Damian: That is a horrible name for a cat.

Bruce: No.

Jason: Wh -

Duke: Are those turtles???

Bruce: Where did you get this image.

Cass: :)

Jason: B you have to explain.

Bruce: Cassandra.

Tim: So Bruce can have pet turtles, but when we do it's a problem? I see how it is.

Steph: Tim this is the perfect opportunity to go on your Jason Arc.

Jason: Your what?

Dick: Oh, I remember them! Those are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! They're vigilantes in New York. Super cool guys. Have a bit of an addiction to pizza, though.

Cass: And the sewers.

Dick: Yeah they live in sewers, it's kinda gross, but they're nice.

Jason: Please tell me this photo isn't in the New York sewers.

Tim: The rats, the rats... we're the rats...

Dick: Oh, that's a good one of me.

Bruce: Dick.

Dick: If you mention the rules about eating on patrol I will throw a fork at you.

Steph: Haven't we already discussed that, Bruce?

Dick: Y- WAIT!

Jason: [cackling]

Dick: So you HAVE been stealing my pizza??

[general laughter]

Steph: Why does that image look so sad...

Babs: Don't diss the deep dish.

Jason: Steph, you're not gonna say ANYTHING about the order it's in?

Steph: Nah it looks fine.

Duke: This is favouritism.

Steph: Sauce on top of cheese is a far cry from PINEAPPLE, DUKE.

Duke: It's good!!

Jason: It's not.

Jason: Wh-

Tim: Why are you so angry... What did that burger do to you...

Jason: CASS??

Cass: :)

Jason: I can't believe I have to move AGAIN.

Dick: You don't have to move every time we find your apartment.

Jason: It's called PRIVACY, DICK.

Duke: I'm unsure if I should be more concerned about what "Nemo" means or the Pinterest deck.

Jason: Pintrest deck?

Tim: [wheezes]

Dick: Nemo... does Jason eat goldfish crackers on his pizza??

Jason: GOLDFISH? Have you NEVER seen the movie finding Nemo?

Dick: I don't remember what kind of fish he is. Sorry for not having that information STORED AWAY in my brain.

Jason: It's a clownfish, Dick. Kind of like you.

Dick: I'm more of a Dory, I think.

Jason: No, you're those annoying ass seagulls.

Steph: Mine? Mine?

Cass: :)

Steph: EXCUSE ME?

Jason: Digiorno? You WILLINGLY eat DIGIORNO??

Steph: NOT ALL OF US HAVE THE TIME OR SKILL TO HARVEST AND PREPARE THEIR OWN PIZZAS, JASON

Jason: SO BUY SOME.

Dick: There's a really good pizza place on Poplar called Moe's. They give me free pizza.

Jason: Moe's is shit and you know it. I'd eat fucking Dominoes before I eat Moe's.

Dick: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Steph: Fight fight fight fight!

Duke: [wheezing]

Tim: Huh what?

Jason: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Dick: It could be worse.

Jason: I don't think it can get any worse than this. I can't believe we're related.

Babs: Y-

Dick: ANYWAYS.

Steph: Tim, you need help.

Duke: He's not the only one.

Steph: Duke, I take back everything I've said about your taste in pizza, this is a war crime.

Duke: This feels backhanded somehow.

Duke: Oh.

Jason: Hm.

Duke: I'll take it.

Steph: THREE STARS?? AND I ONLY GOT TWO???

Duke: L.

Steph: I'm going to unionize against Duke's union.

Bruce: Duke's what?

Jason: Pesto?

Cass: Hm?

Jason: Green pizza sauce. Was it pesto? Tastes like herbs, really notably the basil. It's alright. Not my favourite, but it's alright.

Cass: ...Yes. I think so.

Damian: Only four stars... what do I have to do to receive five stars?

Duke: Dude, are you trying to RIG the competition?

Dick: It's okay Dami, we tied!

Damian: I wish crush all of your pizza flavours.

Jason: There's the answer, kid.

Damian: Hn.

Duke: I smell bias.

Steph: No, no, she's got a point.

Duke: I feel enlightened. Good presentation, 7/10.

Jason: [muttering] So tired of fucking moving...

Dick: You don't have to move, little wing.

Jason: Fuck off.

Steph: I am going to hold off making my judgements but all of you know that Cass's presentation is the best.

Damian: I will go next, as mine is the objectively superior one.

TO BE CONTINUED?

[cursedkeyboard]

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.2)

What does Jason do after stealing a kid from Gotham's slums? Feed and give the little brat a home, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

To be completely honest, when Jason reached his apartment, he was panicking a little

The drive had been enough to clear his mind and he realized how impulsive he'd been

He is a damn vigilante, one with a hell of a reputation, and who's always messing with the baddest assholes of this city

Fuck, he's got guns and explosives in his house

But even with all the panic and rationality, Jason wasn't going to abandon you somewhere else

Orphanages were great places for villains to hit, the foster system might as well have been created by the joker, and no way in hell was he going to drop you at Bruce's

Anything but that

So he sucked it up and focused on your small voice full of wonder as you two drove through the city

"I didn't know there was so many tall buildings in Gotham!"

"That church is huge!"

"Holy shit is that a theater?! I only saw them in movies!"

At a certain point he was close to biting his fists in pure cuteness aggression

He knew exactly what you were feeling, could even picture your eyes glittering full of wonder behind the helmet

It didn't help his heart that your helmet also had comms, which were connected to his, so every single one of your little comments meant for yourself only were accidentally shared

Your Gotham accent was so thick too, born and raised in an area were the elite never tried to "cleanse"

Fuking adorable

Oh, also, he'd need to teach you not to follow strangers even if they were famous vigilantes

Because he realized how fucking dangerous it was that you just up and agreed to be taken by a random masked man

Sure, he knew he also did the same with Bruce, but hey, look at where that got him

When Jason finally brought you up to his apartment, still carrying you, he knew he'd have to immediately go out to buy some things

His fridge wasn't stocked with what kids need

Like... apple juice and cereal

Or any kind of vegetables

And, he definitely needed some kid safety stuff, even if he knew you wouldn't try opening the dangerous cabinets

... probably

Opening his door, he took you to the bathroom

Look, as cute as you were, you were also as filthy as a drenched sewer rat

He told you as much when he set you down

Your glare was worth the slap on the arm (it didn't even hurt)

"Can I assume you know how to take a shower?"

"I'm nine, not three, Red Hood."

"Not my fault you look like you're five."

He chuckled as you huffed and puffed

"Jason Todd."

"What?"

"My name is Jason Todd. Can't have you calling me Red Hood if you're gonna live with me, right?"

You gaped, big eyes going wide

He told you his name! And showed you his face! Why did this man trust you so much?

It... it made you real warm inside

You were quiet for a moment before quietly telling you your name, shyly, like you hadn't done that in a long time

"Hm, I think I prefer 'squirt', tho."

Okay, warm moment over, the guy is insufferable

Hissing and pushing him out of the bathroom with all of your strength, you hesitantly took your first real shower since... since you don't even know when

The water was black

You realized your skin could feel soft instead of oily

And your nails finally didn't look like you dug through dirt

Meanwhile, Jason was running around the apartment like a crazed man

Shoving his guns inside high drawers you wouldn't be able to reach

Trashing the cigs he had bought out of curiosity

And making sure any items for... his intimate partners were completely hidden away

He'd found those in Bruce's room one time as a kid and, needless to say, Jason still felt traumatized to this day

After making his apartment slightly less deadly and ordering food, Jason knocked on the door to let you know he'd left a change of clothes for you in front of the bathroom

Damian's clothes the brat left behind once he had stayed over when he was rebelling

they'd be a little too big for you but nothing like what his would look like

Once you came out, looking fresh and clean, Jason immediately carried you to the couch

Biting his tongue because the demon brat's clothes were actually so big on you he could cry

He ignored your complaints again, he knew your little feet were all scratched and they must have hurt like a bitch

Once you finally settled and didn't try to scratch his eyeballs out, Jason started to patch you up

Such careful, gentle touches for rough hands like his

He handled your injuries like you were made of glass

And despite your childish pride... you kind of loved it

It made you feel all tingly and cozy inside, like you were precious

Like you were deserving of kindness

As you started fidgeting with all the bubbling emotions inside of you, Jason tried to calm you down by talking

He learned your mother died from a drive-by shooting and your father was an alcoholic with a taste for physical abuse

"It only got bad bad a year or so ago, I think he blamed me for us being poor."

"And you know that's bull, right?"

You shrugged as he finished treating your injuries and started to dry your damp hair, a little awkwardly but attentive

"He left a month ago–or died, I don't know–so it doesn't matter either way."

Well, that was a healthy mindset for a child!

He had to breathe through his mouth to not get up and go put three little bullets in your piece of shit father's head

or his body, if the bastard was already dead

Jason definitely had a lot of work to do, but for now, ding-dong, he was going to focus on feeding you

And, no, he was never going to delete the photo he took of your face when he opened the huge takeout orders

Nor would he forget the way you cried silently as you ate

That was your first real meal in months

Your first real meal, washed and clothed, in a safe apartment that didn't smell of roaches nor booze, with an adult who looked at you fondly

Jason promised, to himself and God, that he'd make sure you'd never cry over something like food ever again

When you giggled at a joke he made and didn't flinch when he gently wiped a bit of sauce from your cheek, he knew he had made the correct decision

He'd keep you safe

To be continued...

[chuuya4040]

Imagine if Chuuya and Dazai in the PM days had accidentally gotten themselves on wanted posters that were plastered across for all of Yokohama to see.

Wanted posters weren’t unnecessarily uncommon within the Port Mafia. Usually it was low level grunts, who had the misfortune of having an unflattering photo of themselves plastered across the city, all for the citizens to walk past and be wary of. However, it was of utmost importance that high level mafia personnels remain anonymous to ensure that they never get recognised by the public.

“I think they really captured your angry, chibi face and ugly red hair well, don’t you think?”

However, two teenage boys happened to break this rule.

“Hah?! That looks nothing like me or my hair, it looks like some sewer rat!”

“Exactly my point, it is accurate!”

Two teenage boys who happened to also be the most dangerous duo in the underworld.

“Fuck off! Yours looks like you don’t have basic hygiene and haven’t even showered in days– oh wait, that’s actually true!”

“Hmph, I’d say the rough look they’ve given me gives me charm.”

“Yeah, a charm that says stay ten feet away from this man unless you want to catch a disease.”

Both boys yell at each other on a busy street in the city, screaming obscenities and accusations of their appearance to one another only growing louder and louder by the minute.

Each of them had been horrified by their own posters when they stumbled upon them on their way back from a mission. Whoever the artist was, clearly did not have a good eye for this profession.

Chuuya rips the poster off the wall, nearly ripping it in half in the process. “That looks nothing like me, just watch” he declares and approaches the first person he sees.

“Excuse me,” the redhead stops an elderly lady, a sweet faux smile on his face, “my.. friend thinks this looks like me, would you agree?”

The older woman blinks for a few moments, dazed by the random interaction and narrows her eyes at the poster before shaking her head “Oh, no you look nothing like that person!”

Chuuya looks at Dazai with a victorious smirk, his mind already forming of how he can make the bandaged bastard suffer.

He claimed his victory too quickly it seemed.

She continues with a small chuckle, “you’re just a sweet little thing aren't you?” The elderly woman coos, “you could possibly never look that menacing!” She fondly says, pinching his cheeks.

An uncontrollable giggle bursts out behind him, the gross (heavenly) noise reverberating in Chuuya’s brain and a constant reminder of his humiliation. His cheeks grew warm and red as his own hair, and in that moment with the woman's innocent smile and his partner's evergrowing giggle, he wished the earth would swallow him whole.

“And what about me?~” Dazai muses, a splitting grin on his face, a face that knows he has won.

The woman steps closer to investigate the poster, her eyebrows narrowing in question before they rise on her forehead and she turns pale. “Oh.. oh yes that does look like you. How strange..”

Dazai’s mouth hangs open in bewilderment, and a hearty, uncontrollable laugh bounces off the walls of the city.

Hushed tears blur the redhead's vision as he watches the elderly woman apologize and swiftly make her exit at the realization of who they are.

“Y-you.. You must be mistaken! Please, I definitely look more handsome than this, just look at me!” Dazai yells out after her, despair and horror clinging onto his voice as he watches her disappear into the busy crowd.

The brunet rounds on his partner, irritation leaking in his single eye when he yells, “what are you laughing at?! You are so small she thought you were a child!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Chuuya yells, annoyance dancing through his veins before he huffs in resignation. He begins walking towards headquarters, leaving before a dazed partner before blurting, “don’t sweat it, yeah? You look good half the time anyways.” Checkmate, Chuuya thought.

“Chuu–.. Chuuya, Chuuya! What do you mean by that? Is the slug finally admitting his undying love for me?!”

“Shut. Up!”

If years later they now have those exact wanted posters in a small frame in their shared apartment, that is no one’s business to know except their own.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 11th

Sensory Deprivation, Cirrus x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Sensory deprivation; spanking; sapphicism; established relationship; soft dom!Cirrus; reader’s a little bratty shit; temperature play; nipple play; use of sex toys; praise kink; squirting;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Cirrus made sure your hands were the first to go; lying you on your back and tying your wrists together and securing them to the metal headboard. She always made a habit of making sure they were tight enough that you couldn’t slip out of them, as more than a handful of times you’d done that and cackled about it to her face. You still think about the punishment she gave you afterward. You were so sensitive for a solid week.

Your eyes were the next to go; a soft, satin, black strip wrapped around your head blocking out any light remaining in the room. She loved toying with you, taking her time and making you squirm for her, fidget in anticipation of what she had planned. You trusted her wholeheartedly of course - you wouldn’t allow yourself to get put in this position without total trust of your safety and well being. But there was a thrill that came with this demon that kept you on your toes. You never knew what she was going to do next.

“Remember your safeword?” She asked.

“Teletubby.”

She smacked your thigh. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

You tried to move away, your bratty giggles loudly bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You pleaded.

“What’s the safeword?”

“I won’t have to use it, so I don’t even know why we have one.”

She smacked your thigh again. “If you don’t tell me what it is right now we stop playing.” Her tone was serious, and serious Cirrus was an insanely hot Cirrus. It made heat pour into your core.

“Oranges.”

“Thank you. Little shit.”

You felt the bed release where she’d stood and your ears stopped picking up the sound of her footsteps where she’d clearly left the room, leaving you tied and vulnerable to her bed. Left secured and alone, you had never felt wetter in your life. You didn’t even hear her close the door - knowing Cirrus she did, she would never put you in that position unless you explicitly asked for it, but the thought that anyone could walk passed and see you stark naked and restrained like that had your hips bucking in search of releasing the tension that was building. You were so desperate to have something or someone touch you it was almost pathetic.

You didn’t even hear her return, but all you felt was something impossibly cold on your stomach. The feel of the intense temperature change had you gasping in shock, and your body moving to get away from it despite being tied to the bed. “C-cold!” You exclaimed.

“I should hope so,” she taunted, “it’s been in the freezer for a long time.”

The actually object itself felt heavy, even though her hand was holding most of the weight. The material was hard and unbending, and so, obnoxiously cold. She moved it from the middle of your stomach and traced it over one nipple, making you hiss at the feeling, before she moved it to the other. The two buds now stood erect and providing Cirrus more ground to play and tease you with.

Just as your nipples were beginning to get used to the sensation, she lifted the object and removed it completely. The sound of something heavy dropping into a full container confused you. That was until the cold sensation was back on your nipples, but this time softer and much wetter. Ice. She was now rubbing ice all over your body. You moaned at the feeling, your desperate and empty hole clenching around nothing as you wordlessly begged for more. But due to your combined heats and the temperature of the room, it wasn’t long before the ice died.

But that clearly wasn’t a problem for her as her cold hands moved to your clit and rubbed, the shocking temperature contrast having you screaming out once more. She circled your clit a few times, with a small amount of pressure, not enough to have you feeling good, but just enough to have you needing more. That was when she replaced her fingers with another ice cube, rubbing it all over your vulva to get you prepared and melt a bit, but then placing what was left of it directly on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Oh, fuck!” You yelled in surprise, your hips bucking up sharply.

She simply chuckled in response, and you knew she was having the best time torturing you.

Once the ice had melted away she stopped all contact for a brief moment. You could hear the ice in the bucket moving and adjusting as she retrieved the item that she put inside of it. You felt it prod at your entrance and push inside slowly. There was little stretch and zero resistance, meaning that she was about to fuck you with your glass dildo that had been dunked in an ice bucket for you didn’t know how long. “Cirrus!” Her name came out of your mouth as a shocked gasp again more than a moan, but there was no denying just how incredible it felt. She sank the toy all the way inside you and bent down to give your lips a chaste kiss.

“How does it feel, baby girl?” She asked.

“S-so fucking c-cold!”

“Is it good?”

“Yes! Yes it feels good! Please move!”

“Aw,” you could hear her pouting, her tone became condescending, “only good? I guess you don’t like it then. I’ll stop.”

“No! Don’t stop! It feels incredible. I love it! Please!”

She laughed at you again. “Good girl.”

She moved the dildo and angled it perfectly, making sure it hit your g-spot every time. She’d learnt your body pretty quickly when you first became a thing, and did everything she could to have you seeing stars. The glass dildo was always a favourite of both of you. You because it felt incredible. The heaviness of it combined with the firmness and the ribbed shaft meant that every inch of your cunt felt some kind of pleasure. The weightiness provided the perfect pressure to ensure that you would always have a great time with it. She, on the other hand, much preferred using it to her fingers because you always squirted with it - without fail. And it was never a small trickle that would cascade out of you like a waterfall, no. It was cartoonish or pornographic. It was always like the tsunami gates opened when they weren’t meant to and the ocean would just come pouring out. If she didn’t see it herself, there’d be no way she’d believe any person could do such a thing. But you could, and she loved it.

She bent forward again, her hot breath enveloping your nipple and alternate between sucking and licking it. The stark contrast between the cold dildo currently ramming into your cunt vs. her hot breath put you in almost a state of delirium. As good as the dildo was, though, it wasn’t anywhere near close to tipping you over the edge.

“Cirrus!” You called.

“What, baby?” Her tone was always so patronising when she drove you insane like this, and it only heightened your arousal. It made you feel pathetic, desperate, needy. And you loved it.

“I need you.”

“You have me.”

“I need more.”

“More?” She continued to thrust the dildo inside of you, now hitting the tip of your cervix. The angle this time was downwards, knowing what you wanted from her. The base of the dildo, every time it reentered you, scraped barely against the bottom of your clit. It was driving you mad. “But I’m already giving you so much! Is my girl being greedy today?”

“Please, I want to cum so badly!”

“Is this not enough for you, baby? Hm? What else do you need? Tell me.”

“Y-your fingers, please!”

“So polite! Good girl. Where do you want them? Here?” She began to pinch and tweak the nipple she was just sucking on.

“No! My clit. Play with my clit.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

She obliged your request, shifting further down the bed so she had complete access to your core. Her thumb began rubbing your clit as her other hand continued to work the dildo inside of you. You could hear the sound of your own slick squelching as she fucked you over the sounds of your unashamed and wanton moans.

“Sathanas!” You screamed. “I’m gonna cum!”

“No, pretty girl. What do we say first?”

“Please let me cum!”

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

It seemed to happen all of a sudden. The knot in your stomach that was ever tightening snapped, and you came around the dildo. You felt yourself let go completely, hearing your own slick pouring out of you and Cirrus’ voice talking you through it. Always her good girl. Always so good for her.

Pulling the dildo out of you felt like torture because she dragged it so slowly. You felt so empty and sensitive, and you whimpered at the loss of contact. “Now, now,” she gently scolded you, “you can’t be the only one to have all the fun.”

She removed you from your restraints and gently rubbed at where they left marks. She slowly removed the blindfold and gave you time to adjust to the light of the room. She sat there on the bed, as naked as you. “Make me cum now, baby.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[luvly-writer]

“XOXO”

Ch. 3 Part-Time lovers, full time problem

—•—

Tim Drake x reader

Fic + social media Au

warnings:

taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphantom

Author’s note: One thing i love about Christmas is all the free time i have to write new stuff after finals 🤭 (she said as she still has a few finals to finish 😍). HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!

For those wondering about “BOCM” i am having such a hard time finishing it. When my phone got changed the notes i had on that story got deleted and so i had to improvise a little cause i forgot its ending and it’s so frustrating cause i always want to give you guys quality content. I am scratching my head trying to finish it so i’ll continue this one and update slowly so that i can finish it correctly. Love you all and thank you for your patience.

Masterlist:

“Absolutely insufferable, she is,” said Tim to himself as he ran his hand through his hair. He had been begrudgingly cleaning his apartment. He was tempted to leave it dirty just to take a piss at Yn but he was sure that wouldn’t look good for his reputation so here he was. He would have hired someone to do it for him but recalling all the things he had regarding his alter ego, he knew he would have been fucked and he really couldn’t risk someone else knowing.

Finally, he finished ensuring everything looked great and sat back on his couch with his laptop. "There must be something about her that I can find. I refuse to be outdone and unprepared for this," he said, searching for any leverage he could hold over Y/n's head to bargain for his secret to remain so. Thirty minutes later he had found absolutely nothing. Unlike her two best friends, Clara Dupont and Satine Abbott, who were known to be found in scandal after scandal every week, Y/n had a clean slate. Satine was constantly partying during some fashion week or getting caught sleeping around with some governor's son or a married businessman. Clara has been known to pay off people to do her bidding, caught buying off police, lawyers, teachers, professors, judges and so, to run the city however she pleased. Yet, Y/n had nothing against her. Every article he found was about a charity she had worked on, a program she had opened, or an award she was given; and were all of them legit. She seemed like the angel in their group, but Tim knew better than to trust the all-too-shiny act. He has some recollection of them during high school though; he was a grade above them. They were known for their tight and exclusive group of three. He remembers how girls would do anything to become one of them. If it meant they had to step on someone else to appease one of the three, they would have done so. After all, having them as a connection moved mountains. Tim quickly grew frustrated. No psycho exes, no drug addiction, no jail time, no one dead, no bribes, nothing that could have stained the Vanderbilt name.

Throwing his head back, he heard his phone ring. Y/n was here. He sets his laptop on the coffee table and walks to the door, opening it and revealing a dazzling young woman in an outfit he thought someone as flashy as she never would wear. White Converse, comfortable mom jeans, a laid-back button-up up, and a cozy long brown coat. Her hair was loose and her face fresh with little makeup. Even after spending hours looking at pictures of her during his search, she still managed to take his breath away every time he was in her presence.

"I know I'm mesmerizing, but can you please let me inside? I'm freezing here," she said with her nose a little red.

He rolls his eyes with a laugh and lets her in. "I was gonna go more for repulsive but if that helps you sleep at night."

"Says the one that looks like sewer trampled rat" she quips back.

Tim couldn't help the snort that came out of him. She was an endless supply of good comebacks. He wonders how an interaction between his brothers and her would go, maybe he finally found someone to go head-to-head with Damian. She takes her coat off and lays it on the couch, together with her Burberry bag. He takes notice that her coat is also Burberry and decides to tease her a little. "And here I thought you were actually looking a little humble, but the coat and the bag ruin the look," he says as he scrunches his nose. He feels laughter bubbling as he catches the deadpan she gives him. "Whose less humble, me for wearing it and not saying a single thing or you for identifying it rather quickly and feeling the need to point it out?" she asks as she places a hand on her hip smirking at him.

"Touche"

She nods satisfied at his response and sits on the couch in front of him. "Ok. First order of business-"

"First order of business is giving me the reason as to why you are doing this." Tim interrupts her. She sighs and looks up, "God give me strength to not strangle him" she whispers and Tim tries to hold back a smirk.

"I wAS going to get to that before you so rudely interrupted me. The first order of business is giving you the context I am sure you are dying to hear." she pauses to look at him and he gestures for her to continue. He sees her look down and seem almost embarrassed. He can tell she is hesitating so he tries his best guess, "Are you trying to make someone jealous?"

"No, it's not that, it..." She takes a deep breath and spills it out. "My parents want me to marry a man who is very much too much older than me with the idea that it will help solidify the family lineage which I think is absurd because my sisters are right there AND THEY ARE MARRIED already to someone they love. But because Aurora and Charlisse keep on fighting to become the next CEO, my parents think it is only right to marry ME off to a very wrinkly and truly disturbing man who i am sure 20 years older than me because someone should continue the line whilst the other two are focused on their careers and making something out of their lives. SO, I needed to find a boyfriend who would be suitable for their standards whilst Aurora and Charlisse sort it out so that when they do, the attention and pressure of continuing the line will go back to them and not me." Y/n finishes breathing out. Tim was taken aback. Not only the normally composed girl he was used to seeing, spoke 7 words per second, but he was blown away by the information she had just given him.

"I need...a drink? Do you want one?" he said standing up and heading to the kitchen. No wonder she said this might take a while.

"Yes please" she said with a tense smile. "do you have wine?"

Tim made a sound of confirmation as he poured some scotch. He wasn't much of a drinker, but years of being part of the business world made him earn some appreciation for the drink. Especially on times like these. He poured some wine for her in a glass and walked back with both drinks. He gave her the glass and sat down. "Isn't that a little medieval?"

"Old money has habits that are tough to kill, unfortunately" she mutters dejectedly to her glass. "So, Timothy, any questions?"

"A few actually"

"Go ahead" she sad as she leaned back and got comfortable.

"Whose the old man?"

"Mr. Morris."

"You are fucking with me!" Tim reacted horrified, making Y/n laugh. If he hadn't been so shocked he would have delighted in her laughter but atlas, the situation did not give him the flexibility to do so. "Y/n say you are lying! That man is too old"

"I know, next question."

"Why me?"

"You are a good candidate and a lucky coincidence. I was going to ask Satine and Clara to help me but, that frankly would have ended in a disaster. I believe that as long as a plan stays between the parties involved who have something to lose, it will be successful. Satine would have chosen some random man who she's probably been involved with and Clara knows everything about everyone in the city-"

"Everything?"

"Except this of course, as I was saying she probably would have created a fake identity, assigned it to someone then, bribed them into playing the part."

"Much like you did?"

"I blackmailed you, not bribed you, get it right. Continuing, it was rather easy to choose you. You are Bruce Wayne's son, and even without that, you come from high society from your biological family, so you know the social cues and the ways of the people I am constantly surrounded by. You have proven to be quite ingenious as well as a good businessman. Knowing your "other me" proves you might as well be honorable too and what hero is not dammed with a savior complex can resist a damsel in distress? It is in your nature to want to influence things to be okay. My parents are friendly with Bruce therefore making things more appealing for the situation. I had the perfect leverage, the perfect candidate, and now I just need the perfect situation. So, lucky me when you bumped into me"

"You mean when you bumped into me?" he asked and she glared at him. "Careful, pretty boy," she said, and the way she said it caused chills to go down his spine.

"Any more questions, perhaps about my clean histoy and my best friend's not so clean image?"

Tim looked at her and she gestured to his laptop.

"What do you have to hide?" ha asked leaning foward.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Next question." she smiled as she also leaned forward in her seat. "What's our story?" he asked looking down at her lips, a little bit stained by the wine she had been drinking. Tempting

"Well, that's why I'm here huh, detective?" That nickname shouldn't have had the effect it did on him, but God, he wanted to hear those words from her again. "Show me why Red Robin is the world's greatest mind, second to Batman's only," she said leaning back and taking a sip of her glass once again.

"World's greatest detective, not mind, and some would say I have surpassed Batman, get it right," he said as he repeated her words in the end. "We need cero plotholes, so much so that it has to be so good that not even my family can find them. We are after all a family of detectives"

"Amazing" she said, sitting up straight, her entire focus solely on him.

"We both went to GA, so that's a starting point, we may not even have to lie. We met at Gotham Academy a few years back, you crushed on me for some time seeing as I was a year above you, and then forgot about me when I dropped out. Years later, we bump into each other on the street, and sparks fly or whatever the fuck will make the crowd fall in love with us, and then we start from there. Depending on how desperate are our odds, we will explain our timeline, but we have to agree on it before going public. How did you react when your parents told you the news?

"It waaaass..messy. A lot of screaming and crying"

"Then you will tell your parents of how heartbroken you were when they told you because you finally get the chance to be with your one true love and"

"Wait wait wait wait! Why do I have to be the lovesick puppy in this and you the prince charming" she said narrowing her eyes at him.

"Whose the one in dire need of escaping the situation?"

"Who's identity is in danger?"

"Who will be recreating the handmaid's tale?"

"You bitch!" She gasped at his insinuation

"Exactly so, puppy love for you it is. As I was saying, you finally got the chance to be with the love of your life, and the moment you are prepared to tell them, they spring this news onto you. So how dare they. We can coordinate public appearances, photos, family dinners, and posts so that everything will flow perfectly. Finally, once, you are liberated, we coordinate and stage a breakup and you hand me all the information you have on me cause I know you made copies of everything and I will eliminate all. of. it. We will just be another famous couple that got together and broke up and moved on." Tim was satisfied with his work. Y/n looked absolutely amazed by him.

"Wow...and you came up with all of that, that fast?" she said full of wonder. Tim felt a tug in his heart due to her reaction. It had been a long time since he had managed to make someone truly amazed by him in a really long time. He had been so used to being surrounded by skilled detectives, assassins, meta-humans, and aliens, that he forgot how great it felt to simply just be and have someone admire you for it. The little praise-seeking self in the back of his mind was thriving on her admiration. "Yes."

"Fuck...I think I couldn't have ever picked a better partner for this if I tried. Your reputation does you justice, Timothy, you are brilliant." she smiled. Y/n felt relieved. She was soon going to be free from her family's pressure. Another scheme has gone perfectly. She cleared her throat and masked her face once again. "We have to make a contract, establish some ground rules."

"By all means," said Tim. "I am serious. First rule, I get all evidence of my alter ego destroyed once it's over. I am doing this only if that is assured."

"Deal. Second rule, no one, absolutely NO ONE, knows except for the two of us." she said and he nodded, "I agree"

"Third rule, Kissing only happens if the situation requires it," she said. He hadn't noticed she had opened a doc in his laptop and was writing this entire thing down. He hummed in agreeance, too busy admiring her....admiring her...WOOP WOOP! EARTH TO TIM! This is a fake relationship and you are already getting fond of her?!?!??! WAKE UP

"Fourth rule, no feelings. This is strictly professional" he snapped, making her look at him strangely. "I think that was already implied but sure, if you want it written, I'll add it" and turned to his laptop again.

He felt a pit in his stomach. This was professional and besides, he just found her attractive, he can anyone attractive and it doesn't mean anything. Plus she is kind of an asshole. She is blackmailing him into a fake relationship...to save herself from being sold like cattle and forced to marry a creepy man which if he thinks of it maybe it is the best way she saw fit. AND AND she was very rude to him and has quite the attitude..although it is so attractive how she goes head to head with him. Tim was sweating' bullets.

"And done. I added a few things such as we have to have some sort of PDA, and how we might coordinate things. You know, some silly stuff that most people think isn't important but might end up being so. Do you have a printer?" She asked to which he nodded and gestured to his office. She sent the paper to print and went to look for it. Tim took a deep sigh, he just needed to calm down. He just found her attractive and interesting like a new case that needed to be cracked.

"Perfect, I printed two contracts; one for you and one for me. I also took one of your blue pens and signed on both papers, here, sign here and here." After it was done, she had noticed that a few hours had passed. "I should get going. I promised Satine and Clara that I would have dinner with them if they kept the paparazzi off me so that I could get here unbothered and we didn't have any issues." She said as she went for her coat and her purse. "Have a nice night, Timothy"

"Tim"

"Huh?"

"My friends and family call me Tim," he said looking at her.

She smiled softly, "Okay...Timmy, have a good night and get some rest." His heart melted at the fact that she took his nickname and altered it to make it hers. She heard her driver arrive outside and walked towards the door, Tim not so far behind. He noticed she faltered her step a little and looked at him hesitating. "Be....be careful tonight" she said but it was more like a whisper.

Tim nodded, "Thank you, enjoy dinner and get home safe," he told her as she went outside and went to her car. He stayed there until she got in the car and it began moving.

As she left, Y/n unfolded the contract from her purse and read the last rule...no feelings...

"you are going to be trouble.." she said fighting off a tiny smile and thinking of the handsome boy with the sharp quips, magnificent brain, and gorgeous blue eyes.

"What was that, miss Vanderbilt?" asked Donnie, her driver.

"Oh, it's nothing, Don. We are headed to L'amico, I'm meeting the girls for dinner," she said sweetly and her driver nodded.

Author's note: What do you think of their dynamic? Liking it so far? Feel free to give me any feedback you'd like.

[quitealotofsodapop]

One thing I don't think is mentioned enough is the fact that during the journey, a lot of Celestials took the opportunity to just... outright FUCK around with Wukong. Like, they'd send all sorts of demons their way intentionally just to intervene and say "Oh hey! You found my favorite pet!" Even Guanyin hadn't been innocent of this considering she had this huge fit over her pet goldfish. And if they weren't using their pets they were finding other methods to delay or otherwise force the Pilgrims off the beaten path and into danger out of some sort of test, spite, or pettiness.

Now, think about how in the both JTTW and Slow Boiled au Wukond actually was pregnant or not during the journey, and in Century au, the Heavenly Court BELIEVE he was pregnant. So imagine how those guys feel after they decided to fuck with Wukong put of spite and found out they unknowingly were stressing a pregnant monkey out!?

Yeah! Characters like Gold Star hide their identities to aid the main characters, while some are just... doing it for fun? Are they LARP-ing? And Monkey has Gold-Vision; why does he always not recognise these people even from his Celestial days?

Guanyin set up a whole honey trap knowing that half the squad ain't into it, and dropped the gang on their way home cus they missed 1 story event. The abbey with the Ginseng tree were pretty rude af. The Buddha's own servants tried to fleece the gang of the scriptures. Multiple kingdoms suffered cus King Who-Care shot somebody's bird-cousin, or knocked over a table of offerings. And the 28 Lunar Mansions took almost 13 years to realise that the Wood Wolf was missing.

Lao Tzu's lab assisants literally run off with his stuff and become demon lords for lulz (or they were the assisants that let the Rhino King/Buffalo out and were scared that they'd get in trouble). And lets not forget RHINO KING. Bruh, you somehow lost track of a gotdang celestial Bull-Rhino!?

Guanyin's not immune from this; TWO of her pets became horrific demons (Goldfish and Sai Taisui) and are arguably the most irredeemable of all the villains faced.

Lady Earth Flow/Albino Rat/Bat spirit is even described as Li Jing's adoptive daughter - how the f that happen?? How did he lose track of a whole kid so bad that she became a vampire-esque demon?

Manjusri let their cat (Azure Lion) out TWICE. And they cursed the Wuji kingdom for tossing them in a sewer for preeching.

After a point, I'd imagine Wukong in the stone egg aus would just throw his hands up and start yelling at the gods directly. He's even bolder in the Jttw Stone Egged au given that he has Macaque as back-up.

You know that chapter where Rhino King steals all of the Heavenly Army's powers and weapons, and the immortals are all infighting so hard that Wukong has to be the voice of reason?

Imagine a tiny hormonal monkey just going nuts at these gods. He's screaming in their faces. He's demanding Nezha lift him up so he can look General Li Jing in the eye. He's telling them what good are they as fighters if they only feel safe with their weapons and powers? Wukong has a *damn* good reason he ain't taking on Rhino King in a 1-v-1 rn, whats all these gods excuse?!

The gods are too surprised and intimidated to argue back. And you better believe a certain alchemist is getting a smack for letting a whole animal loose from his lab.

[pursuitseternal]

“Arising” to the climax of “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Cordehlia (Named Tav) | E | 3.6 K

Love to @marimosalad , my illustrator and co creator

Summary: Cazador’s dungeons, where his love is reduced to a hostage to ensure his willingness in the Rite of Profane Ascension. The Pale Elf and the Bone Picker are faced with an even more desperate choice in that glow of Infernal magic.

CW: violence, angst, Pale Elf Quest spoilers, heartache, impossible choices, Catharsis, and near death experiences.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 18: Arising…

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Dagger bit flesh, one last werewolf felled in the Ballroom. Blood everywhere, it covered them all, but Astarion grinned in wicked delight as he took in their progress. The Palace would be gutted, and she would be saved. Cazador would be dead, and with any luck, he might just ensure immortality and power and prestige for them both. Forever.

He looked into the faces of his friends, all just as bloodied and breathless as he was.

And what was more, they all grinned back, panting and bent over with exhaustion some, well, Gale unsurprisingly. But they all were with him.

It took a matter of moments for them to find the way to the dungeons, his stomach sinking, his undead heart somehow racing, almost tangible again in his chest as they lowered to the crypt.

Foul air hit their faces, rot and putrefaction and mold, a place he didn’t even know existed. And yet, somehow, the perfect place for Cazador to wallow and bait his trap. The sewer rat that he was.

Cells lined the walls once they reached the bottom, hundreds of glowing red eyes staring at him, clamors of parched voices, some that had haunted him for centuries.

“Are all these…?” Shadowheart’s question died on her lips as the answer became too clear.

“Targets… Victims…. More… spawn….” Astarion kept his eyes fixed ahead. “They should have been dead, drained and dismembered,” he hissed, betrayal upon betrayal festering in his stomach now. “He must need them, must be part of his plan….”

“There must be hundreds… thousands…” Halsin’s voice almost shook at the atrocity.

But atrocity had been a daily part of his life for all his years enslaved. Astarion could only push forward, unable to look or listen at the faces he still saw in his nightmares, those torturous visions that plagued him any time he wasn’t dreaming about…

“Cordehlia,” he froze outside a cell, empty and blood spattered. Crouching, he touched his fingers in the red pool of sticky blood and licked it. “Her scent is here,” he whispered, pressed and taught as every instinct to kill began to take hold. “She was here, but it’s not her blood,” he stood smirking. “Ghast and werewolf, at least she put them through the hells, by the look of it. Unarmed too.” He absentmindedly tapped the dagger at his hip.

“Of course she did,” Karalch gave a small, slight laugh, unusual for her. “That’s our girl.”

“But it doesn’t tell why so many other victims, why so many monsters,” Wyll’s voice sliced through as sharp as his blade.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance….”

The scent of brimstone and sulfur, the sting of Infernal magic in the air, that velvet baritone voice, only one Cambion would offer help one last time… just a small, black and molten form hovered at their eye level. Slowly, those dark sunken eyes, that hard-lined face materialized before them all. Half-formed from the neck up, that familiar face smirked at them.

Raphael.

“What the fuck do you want?” Astarion rounded, fangs bared and fists clenched. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit too busy to thank you for gracing us with your presence, devil,” Astarion snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words as he gave a subtle bow of his head. “If you slow me down now, you’ll find yourself short not two… but three horns someday….”

He didn’t mean horns alone. That made Karlach snicker.

But Astarion couldn’t enjoy the mirth, not when he was so very close now. That hurried bite in his words, he met Raphael’s black stare with disgust. “I don’t know why you think we might need assistance, what with facing down my old master with his army of an untold, unknown number of spawn, oh and he has the love of my life somewhere here….” He sneered, feral and fangs flashing. I think we have it under control, Raphael, so you can burst into mist and let me keep… going.” Spit flying, he snarled by the end.

“The spawn are not an army, my toothsome friend, they are his offering to Mephistopheles, the seven-thousand souls required for Cazador’s Ascension, in addition to your siblings’ and yours of course.”

The information smacked him in the chest. And every one of his companions seemed to stop breathing. “Seven-thousand souls…” Gale barely whispered in horrified reverence. Astarion rolled his eyes, of course the Wizard couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“But there is more you should know, my friends. Cazador has sampled some, a mere sliver, of the power the Vampire Ascendant will possess once the Rite is completed. That’s how he faced the thin light of dawn, how his spawn could appear in your rooms, how he could subdue that menacing and beautiful future bride of yours, Astarion.”

“I’d prefer if you quit spying on us, strange devil,” Astarion’s nostrils flared. “But since you’ve seen so much, any last warnings or advice for once?”

The black, molten form of Raphael suddenly looked very serious. “Take care of his bite,” he warned with deadly tone. “One fang through the skin, and the necrotic magic of the Ascendant will take hold, death will be slow but inevitable, allowing for the Vampire Lord enough time to decide, to torture or to turn his victim…. But there will be no amount of magic that can prevent that fate.”

Every breath held tight, even Astarion. Dread formed over his slow-beating heart, arms aching to hold her one more time. Heavy silence fell, once again broken. “By Silvanus,” Halisin sighed.

“Just remember, it wasn’t Silvanus who warned you, Astarion, it was me…” Raphael’s rippling voice chuckled into nothing as the apparition faded as well.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach bemoaned their situation as she loaded arrows into her crossbow. “Nobody is getting bitten today, dammit.”

“No,” Astarion rolled his shoulders and flashed them a smile… the deadliest they had ever seen, more fangs than mirth, more darkness in his eyes than crimson as he glanced one more time where his love had been held. “But someone is going to be turned inside out for what they have done to me and my love.” He unsheathed his shortsword and her glittering dagger with a hiss of metal. “I can promise you that.”

Air stung with magic, stank with rot. He could feel the scars on his back stinging, glimpsing the way his six siblings hung suspended by magic, their own scars aglow with infernal power.

But that wasn’t what his eyes searched for. The second he spied her at the bottom of the stairs, her skin pale and fiery hair tangled, he couldn’t stop. Astarion flew headlong into the danger, the second her silver eyes locked into his, a smile of love and relief and bloodlust crossed her own face, he only hastened all the more.

Cazador held her firm, her body clutched against his chest, arms bound before her with simple rope. “The prodigal son returns,” his Master called, even as Astarion panted and rushed with blade and dagger drawn. “You're so predictable, boy, so easy to break and crack into pieces.”

A roar in his throat, her bright dagger raised over his head, he was ready to strike. Until Cazador waved that massive staff, a wall of hot magic, singeing and red, slammed into him. He was so close, barely an arm’s reach from her… from him. But glowing red sigils burned around his wrists, his breath catching as it scorched in his throat. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Only if you don’t let me do it first,” Cordehlia hissed and thrashed, elbowing the vampire in his chest. To no effect.

“It’s going to be quite hard to do that, now that my will has wrapped itself around you again, boy.”

The circlets of red grew brighter, Astarion grunting as he bit his teeth firmly shut. He wouldn’t give Cazador the satisfaction of another scream or grunt in pain. “Fuck you,” he ground out against the agony rushing through his body. “You have me, let her go, you bastard.”

“I’ll let her go, once she witnesses you fulfilling your true destiny, thankless child.” Cazador cackled, waving that fearsome staff of his to intensify the hissing sounds of flesh burning, increasing the glow of those shackles on her love’s wrists. “You were made to be consumed.”

“Astarion!” Cordehlia cried, wrestling against the iron hold around her frame. “No, you were made to destroy, my love. You were made in the darkness under pressure like adamantine, just like me. You were made to avenge yourself against him….”

“Shut up, you whore,” Cazador gripped his hand around her mouth, but she bit through his pale, flaky skin, only to yell louder once that vampire squealed in pain.

“He killed your parents, he beat me from your memory, used you, defiled you, and yet we found each other again. You will fight, my love, fight and win, Astar—“

That cold, steely grip clutched around her throat, and Cordehlia sputtered for air beneath it.

Astairon’s body writhed, twisting and strengthening as he grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Every iota of his love for her boiled to the surface, every bit of his rage burst from inside him, his need to be free, to be with her exploded from within. Hissing, shattering, the binding magic broke from his wrists. The sigils of his infernal scars decimated in an instant, and Astarion stretched his arms and bared his fangs. The only thing brighter than his teeth was that dagger still held firmly in his fingers.

Freed.

“Impossible…” Cazador snarled, his fingers releasing from her throat enough for Cordehlia to gasp in some air. “Even now, you resist? Foolish, stupid boy and his foolish, stupid whore.” Long fingers gripped into her hair and pulled her head sharply to the side, her neck bones almost cracking at the force. “You should have known your place, child.”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to watch it all happen so slowly… the way her hands opened, her eyes locked on her dagger in his grip… the narrowing of her gaze, ordering him to toss it wordlessly….

It happened so quickly, so slowly at once. That bright dagger sailed through the air, unwavering from his dexterous grip until it landed square in her outstretched hand. A smile crossed his face as she held it firm and fast, turning it to sink it into the soft belly behind her. A satisfied slick noise filed the dungeon as it sank home.

But her face flashed from triumph to agony. From bloodlust to torment. Astarion’s eyes flew from her perfect lips, her shining eyes to the set of fangs that now buried in her neck.

Watching in horror as Cazador sank his deadly fangs in her flesh.

Instantly, he released that bite, dagger buried in his gut through his ostentatious jerkin. The vampire stumbled back, that nefarious staff of his falling to the ground. But as their companions descended on his old master with light spells and damaging blows, Astarion could only move slowly, as if trapped in quicksand, reaching to catch her.

Her body was shaking, necrotic streaks already darkening the shallow bite on her neck. Perfect pale skin stained dark, her beautiful face gathering beads of sweat as the poison already crept through her veins. Astarion could only cradle her, warm tears finally dripping down his cheek, lips unable to say much of anything but the music of her name over and over again as he held her against his chest.

Throat bobbing, she swallowed through the agony, “I got him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, my love,” a feeble smile and tear streaked voice replying as he stroked her hair. All he could hear was the slowing beat of her heart, the din of battle beyond them so distant, so… unimportant compared to finally holding her once more.

Maybe only one more time.

Halsin crowded over them, “Bring him here,” he ordered to the rest of their party. Scuffling and dragging, slung between Karlach and Wyll, Cazador hung limp, but still alive. Or undead. Halsin pawed at Astarion’s shoulder, something warm and assuring and irritating about it all at once. “It’s for you to decide.”

Astarion looked up, eyes burning with hate as he locked his gaze on his old master. But he couldn’t bring himself to let her go, not with the way her arms clung around his chest, the way her heart seemed to slow beneath his own ribs. “Do something, Cleric,” he snarled, gesturing with his head at how his love began to visibly shiver.

“Astarion…” Shadowheart tried to cajole, but he would not take that patronizing tone.

“Halsin, Gale,” he snapped their names. “What good is all that magic and faith if you can’t heal her.”

“The devil said it wasn’t curable, but I could try to slow the poison,” Halsin finally sighed. “But there is only one solution to this…”

“My death,” Cordehlia shuddered, teeth chattering as her flesh began to grow impossibly cold. “I can… feel it. Have dreaded this for so long…”

“Or your undeath….” He whispered, just to himself. Astarion glanced up, taking in the carnage and misery and atrocity around them. Blood-slicked stone, throbbing infernal magic still holding his siblings bound by their scars. That one missing space meant for his death, waiting to be filled to complete the Rite…. “Do what you can to buy us time, Druid,” he ordered, lifting her shaking body towards the Elf, to place in his arms, carefully like the tender babe she was to him. “I have matters to attend to.”

“Astarion,” Cordehlia moaned as she was moved. “What are you d-doing?”

“What I promised you,” he knelt as Halsin rested her against him on the ground, cradling her in his large, warm arms. “I’m going to save you, to protect you, to make you my Bride.”

“Seven… th-thousand…” she managed to say before a wrack of pain shot through her body and made her teeth snap tight.

Her love’s palm cradled her cheek, his breath cold on her lips as he kissed her so, so softly. “Seven-thousand souls is a small price to pay to save your one, beautiful one,” he murmured.

“A-starion…” she managed to hiss through her torment.

“Yes, my darling?” he replied, lips still brushing hers even as they, too, grew cold.

“Use… my dagger,” she swallowed.

Astarion smiled, a kiss on her forehead, cold and wet with her body’s agony. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Standing, he crossed to that monster, his former tormentor, and threw Cazador’s tunic up over his head. Raising at last, he found Gale’s hand so close, that bloodied, bright dagger in his offering palm. “Use the tadpole,” the Wizard nodded. “See your own scars, and it should suffice to appease the Infernal contract.” He winced as he heard his own words. “Do it for Cordehlia.”

Never before had he disrobed faster, armor and shirt lying at his feet as he took that warm blade in his hand. Astarion could say nothing, had to ignore the way he could just see from the corner of his eyes at how the Druid tried every kind of magic to draw the poison out. Shaking his head, he kept that focus locked on the sight of his own back, seeing his scars through Gale’s eyes. But all the while, he kept his pointed ear trained on Cordhelia’s heart, how it sometimes raced and sometimes slowed. And it only spurred his own markings to be that much sharper and more precise in that monster’s flesh. A matter of moments, and he finally pronounced his work completed.

He picked up that horrific staff, ignoring the way it vibrated in his hand, overwhelmed by its rush of magic as it coursed up his arm and down his spine. Power like nothing he could have ever imagine flooded his body, instantly his tongue danced over the words of the Profane Rite, put on his lips by the magic in the air. He could have watched with twisted pleasure as Cazador’s nearly-broken body flew to be suspended in his own place. He could have savored the way magic raced up and down every nerve as the spell tripped off his tongue, as the staff seemed to move his body of its own.

No, all he could watch was Cordehlia’s silver eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open to watch him ascending. All he could savor was the way his heart filled with the promise of a power so overwhelming, he could finally do something worthy of her. Finally able to save her. Feeling it finally begin to beat for her again.

The world around him seemed to still, to sharpen and explode all at once. Dropping that staff to the ground, he rushed to her once more. Her hand trembled in his grasp, skin waxy and cold. Halsin’s big green eyes looked back at him, grief stricken and saying more than words could. He passed her feeble body into Astarion’s outstretched arms as he crouched on the dirty floor beside them. Her head lolled against his shoulder, silver eyes half shut, forced open to looking into his handsome face until the end.

“You’ll have to fight poison with poison,” the Druid smiled weakly, trying to reassure the Ascendant being before him that radiated magic, Astarion’s skin paler than death and eyes glowing like demonic flame.

Astarion nodded, he didn’t want to do this here. Not in a dungeon, not in his old home of such torment, and certainly not in front of all the others. But there was no choice now, and the price paid was too great to fail now. “Cordehlia,” he whispered in her ear, “thank you for trusting me, I just need you to trust me a little further.”

She managed a nod with her eyes still barely opened.

Blood filled his mouth, and fangs sank into the holes Cazador had made. His mouth sucked the tainted blood from her veins, almost souring his stomach as he drank until the taste of that monster’s magic was gone from her body.

Until there was only the taste of her on his tongue again.

And yet, even as she showed all the signs of being bloodless, her heart beat steadied with his magic now in her veins. It would be enough for now, enough to start her own rite, enough to keep her from true death for a while. He stood, feeling waves of power rippling from his muscles in new and strange ways. Suddenly far too aware of the way his heart thumped in his chest again—rapid and alarmed and living. Too ironic, too sad to be truly appreciated as her own pulse continued to slow. “We have to get her back to the Elfsong,” he pronounced, blood dripping down his chin, standing to carry her tenderly in his arms. “I will need to complete my work in privacy.”

Halsin cocked a brow. “Very well,” he nodded, leading them all back through the halls until they could reach the brush of daylight once more, followed by a simple teleportation back to their suite of rooms.

Not a second was wasted. Not now that he was so close. Ascended. Freed. More power at the tips of fingers than any of his kind had ever possessed. And yet his happiness laid unmoving against his chest, nearly lifeless against his now-beating heart.

Astarion kicked open the door to a set of rooms apart, setting her on the dark, postered bed. Quickly, he bit her wrist, sucking more and more of her sweet vintage straight from her veins.

His heart broke at all of what could have been, at all the various futures and paths that faded from view. She wasn’t even conscious to enjoy this union, to feel the way their essences combined into one, stronger and equal and powerful the more he drank her down. She couldn’t hear the little praises he poured over her, her ears deaf to every time he called her his love, his darling, his treasure, the mate of his heart and soul…

But he poured them over her barely-conscious face all the same, peppering her face with bloodied kisses even as it grew white as a sheet.

One last bite was all it would take. This love of his life, near dead and almost lost to him a second time, she would be his forever.

As his fangs sunk into her neck, marking afresh the scars that had formed there over their weeks reunited, he drank his fill. Breaking away at last once she neared the very dregs of her life, Astarion stopped. He was breathless, his stomach full to near bursting, even though it no longer throbbed with a spawn’s hunger.

Hand shaking, he brought his wrist to his teeth, tearing a slit in own flesh to place against her chalky lips. He could sense it entering her body, dripping down her throat to pool in her own belly. But he held his breath all the same.

Body rigid, he had never been more afraid than right now, not as his love’s life hung in the balance, not as she counted on his power to bring her back into the same realm as him, even if it was under the veil of undeath.

Her lips stirred first against his wound, just a little movement, just a slight suck. Crimson eyes flashed open were once silver ones shined at him, and Corehelia smiled as she sucked down his blood.

Astarion finally breathed, his chest easing at last.

His bride was arising.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I do know that Ascension can be divisive, however I hope this gives some firmer ground to stand on… spoonfuls of “Burn the world” for his love and “Touch her and you die” make it go down smoother, I hope. No more long lost love💞

Aeterna Amantes

3 more days until Chapter 19: Dark Kissing, when she awakens🩸💞🗡️

[almondmilktargaryen]

A Son for a Son (A Debt Paid)

Summary: Jaehaerys is dead. Aemond is to blame. But how can a parent grieve for a child no one knew was his?

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen (kinda)

Category: General, angst, fucking sad

Content warnings: Spoilers for HotD season 2/Fire & Blood, mentions of Targcest, a dead kid

Word count: 1.5k

Also on my Ao3

All that illuminated Aemond’s room was the fire. The handmaidens must have lit it before everything happened. Not a single one was in sight now, nor a guard. They were with everyone else. Handmaidens were likely assigned to clean up the blood, take away the boy’s body, and attend to the king and queen’s every need at this grievous hour. Their mother and grandsire likely coordinated patrols and assembled the guards.

Thank the gods for all that. Thank the gods that Aemond chose to train so young. Because unless his dreadful uncle crashes through his chambers on Caraxes and ends this war before it truly starts, he does not require support. No. More than anything, he requires solitude. He has not even bothered washing the blood off his face. It was nothing compared to the amount on his hands, his awful role in all of this. His mother tried cleaning him up, reaching for his cheek with a handkerchief, but he pushed it away. “Helaena,” was all he said before she left him alone. 

He was by her bed then, on the floor, back against the frame and the feather-filled mattress. Helaena’s room was a powder blue with silver accents throughout; an unintentional ode to her beloved Dreamfyre. The spattering of blood stood out against the cotton and velvet materials, making it easy for Aemond to trace the one slice from start to finish. That was all he saw, actually.

He hadn’t had the heart to tell Helaena about Storm’s End, not wanting to worry her about the idea of a war and her children’s safety. He had an earful (and a harsh slap) from his mother when he finally caved upon his return but hoped to forget about it when in Helaena’s chambers. There, they would sit for hours, sometimes in complete silence, and let the children discover the smallest aspects of the world within the four walls of that room. When Aemond was with them, it was the safest place they could be.

Two days later, his world shattered like the legend of a second moon crashing into the sun, unleashing dragons upon the world. Except the sun for him was the smell of sewer rats that filled the bedroom rather than faint perfumes, two filthy men with blades to Jaehaerys and Maelor. 

“A son for a son,” they said.

Before he could even think to reach for either of the boys, he leaped for Helaena, urging her to cover her ears as he pulled her away, keeping her from witnessing the inevitable.

He witnessed it, the slice. He heard it. It was quick, yes. Jaehaerys did not have the chance to even scream before it was done. And Aemond still cannot decide if that is good or bad. He finds his heart broken regardless, merely pieces and tendrils hanging in his rib cage. The blood was now dry, but he could feel the spray on his face like it was still happening; warm, and from a boy with so much spirit. He felt it over and over as he thought of him. A soul so delicate for a Targaryen boy, he never thought it was possible. He was still holding his dragon toy when Aemond walked in, painted black and gold. Aegon had it made for him. Jaehaerys expressed his desire to have a dragon that resembled his toy, even though he had already formed a bond with Shrykos. Goldfyre, he called it, following his parents’ bonded dragons. And, of course, there was blood on that too.

Then, Aemond ran for his balcony, gripping the ledge like a dragon’s claws embedded into the top of a castle. But instead of flaunting such fearsome grace, his knees shook as he vomited into the bushes meters below. The boy’s head rolled around on the floor, like a ball made of stone. And Aemond is quick on his feet. He is known for being quick on his feet, for his reputation with the blade, and he has the scar to prove his determination. But when one of those vile men grabbed Jaehaerys—his head—upon their escape, all Aemond could think was that he was about to rip his son’s hair right out of his scalp.

He had such gorgeous hair. Icy white, as though the moon touched it. And curls from the Hightowers proved to prevail for another generation. He had lilac eyes. A true Targaryen. Well, they were more of a violet shade. They were Helaena’s eyes. He almost cried when he discovered that, just three days after he was born. The maesters were concerned with his eleven fingers and twelve toes, but Helaena had to hold Aemond back when he insisted he was perfect the way he was. That was all he saw, his perfect boy.

He lost his perfect boy because he let his confidence morph into arrogance. He was too stupid to see it before it was too late, before Vhagar writhed against his will, against his attempts at High Valyrian commands. Arrax’s ultimate sign of life screeched out from him before his remains, wings, tail, and all returned to the storm clouds. But Lucerys, that bastard, was nowhere to be found amongst the falling carnage. He did not look at Vhagar the entire ride home. Blood trailed from her mouth, and that was all he could bear to see.

Helaena screeched too when she opened her eyes. Somehow she was louder than the young dragon, and she squirmed from Aemond’s hold like she was trapped in Vhagar’s jaws herself. Blood pooled on the floor, staining his sister's dress as she held him, her headless son. It seeped between her fingers. She screamed so hard, so loud, Aemond was convinced her lungs were on the verge of explosion, ripping themselves apart with her soul. Their mother burst in, then their grandsire and guards, but not Aegon. Aemond would not even expect him to drop everything for his Maelor, let alone for the ones that are not even his.

In the midst of it all, Jaehaera hid under the bed. When he told her it was safe, all she said was, “Are you bleeding, Uncle Aemond?” Her lilac eyes, pale ones like his, still flickered in the dark.

“No, my sweet, I’m fine. The evil men are gone.”

“Mummy’s crying.”

“I know. Don’t come out yet, alright? Let grandmother and grandpapa handle some things first. I need you to be calm.” And he waited there, his back to the bed like a dog on guard, like a father protecting his daughter. His only child now. His hand crept under the bed until he felt hers. He remembered when she was just a baby, how her hand could only wrap around a single finger. That baby was still warm, maybe (hopefully) still a little innocent, but she was here. Her hand in his proved she was still here. It was when Alicent fell to her knees by Aemond, checking him for wounds, that he was forced to let her go.

Discovering Aemond on the balcony, Alicent took a kneeling position once more. She did not drop like she did just minutes (or maybe hours) ago. She still had a handkerchief in her hand, clean and ready. Aemond leaned in and let her wipe, using her spit like every mother does for help. She rubbed harshly. Aemond did not care. He barely felt it. When she was done, her arms slacked like she carried Jaehaerys’ body out to the maesters herself.

“She will never forgive me for this, mother,” Aemond says. “When she finds out this is my doing, she will never forgive me.”

Alicent swallowed, her lips disappearing for a moment. “We have guards on patrol, one every three meters. One should be coming to your room in a—”

“I do not need a guard.”

“This is not the time for arguments, Aemond.”

His grief started hardening. Every bone in his body that he would have broken in exchange for Jaehaerys’ life was ready to annihilate anyone who dared to step or fly onto the Red Keep’s grounds. It was a similar feeling to when his father commanded him to look up at his king, his eye freshly sliced and sewn.

“Put me on patrol.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mother, I have to—”

“You’ve made enough stupid mistakes in one week, haven’t you?” The moment she said it aloud, Aemond knew she regretted it. He saw it in her eyes, a moment of clarity washing over them, turning glassy like when she watched a maester sew him up almost ten years ago. Where the anger grew in him, it dissolved in her. She held his hand then as if she closed around it a little tighter, she would take away her son’s pain.

She held his hand again here, a thumb rubbing back and forth over his knuckles. “We cannot risk losing two family members in one night. You need to grieve for your son.”

The air escaping Aemond’s lungs was involuntary, like the squeeze of a dying breath. His head knocked against the barrier as he looked up at the moon. His mother wiped under his eye. He had not even felt the tears. His face was heated. The anger, the shame, the endless guilt, all boiled inside him like the dragon’s blood he was not sure he wanted anymore. He crumbles into his mother’s open arms. And she held him tight all the same.

“My son.” He finally sobbed. “They killed my son!”

[elskiee]

a prompt for my boys

i've been awake thinking abt this prompt for DAYS but bear with me:

( tw // abusive relationship )

alfie woke up at night from that fucking wailing. he needed to teach those goddamn kids a lesson sometimes. but oh-oh, it's not a kid. it's a malnourished, brutally-beaten, heavily-pregnant omega at his doorstep, whimpering as blood and water gushed out from between his legs. whose omega is this? but the scream was getting louder, so alfie had no choice but to take him inside. to his surprise, he was able to help him give birth to a healthy beautiful baby boy (chaotically, ofc). alfie didn't even know the omega's name yet, but his carnal instinct to protect these two boys activated instantly.

they talked in the morning. alfie learned that the omega, tommy, was kicked out of the house by his abusive sewer rat of a husband (and ofc he took a mental note to find the guy and kill him on the spot). alfie then offered to shelter tommy and charlie, the newborn, for three months. tommy gratefully accepted it, and they grew very close along the way. alfie could deny it as much as he wanted, but he definitely felt a pleasant spark whenever he looked into those oceanic, electric blue eyes. or when he caught a glimpse of tommy's extremely thick, butterfly lashes. or those lips. alfie felt sinful, but if this was what's gonna put him in hell, then he'd gratefully peel his clothes and bathe in the fire.

but first, drama; the local omega shelter found out that tommy was not alfie's mate nor his legally-acknowledged spouse. nor was charlie his biological child. so, the shelter decided that it's gonna be best for tommy and charlie to spend the night at their place. it hurt alfie to let them go. tommy was crying harder than charlie ever did when they picked him up, begging them to let him stay with alfie. alfie was the one who saved him, who cared for him. alfie brought him close, kissed his forehead and whispered, "It's going to be okay, Tommy. I'll come get you two. Just wait for me. I love you."

and when tommy's mouth met his own, soft and wet and oh-so-fucking-sweet, whispering, "I love you, Alfie. Come back. Come back to me," Alfie knew his whole life was going to be dedicated to bringing their family back together. whatever it takes.

[thanks @whentommymetalfie for absolutely igniting my long-ignored passion for omegaverse u're god-sent fr]

[wildfire317]

@liveleaker @jaquesmes

Alright listen here you little inbred, KKK wannabe chucklefucks news flash neither of you are main characters and your barely even background characters so quit acting like you dumbfucks are worth more than the dirt under your toenails. Nobody in their right mind actually thinks your dumb racist, homophobic and sexist comments are funny or cute, you two just look like absolutely moronic dipshits with micro-dongs and chihuahua complexes. And another thing you living condom usage advertisements, Nobody wants your defective sewing needle sized, piss poor excuses for cocks that not even a rat could choke on or your rotting in the middle of a dry summer sewer smelling, flatter than a piece of paper asses any where near them and if you think they do your even less intelligent than a single cell organism. You both claim to be adults so goddamn act like it because as things are right now you're both acting like a pair of rocket propelled spaz maggots spring-loaded face first up the asses of psychedelic freakout weasels on idiot drugs. Also you want to call someone swagless and bitchless you might want to take a good long look in the mirror because I don't see a singular molecule of swag on either of you or a single bitch and I'm not surprised considering you both look like the kind of guys that order boneless, dry rub chicken wings and then lose a fight to a chihuahua. And by the way just because you pieces of dick-cheese started putting out at twelve and peaked at 15 doesn't mean you get to drag everyone else down the perverted dunkass tree with you. Also your 8 decade curse is the biggest joke in the history of curses from any religion it isn't even an actual curse, it barely even qualifies as a jinx and thats ignoring the fact that it's basically useless the way you attempted to use it anyways and was over all a monumentally stupid waste of everyones time so stuff that in your prison cell and sit on it. You two blithering, feculent, shit holes are such lame wastes of genetic material i would not be surprised if both of your probably absentee fathers wish they had worn a condom at the time of your conceptions which explains your blatantly fatherless behavior and I bet your mothers change the subject when anyone asks about you and envy people who have never met or heard of you. Your "your momma" jokes are the most pathetic I have ever seen, were either of you actually even trying or was that the extent of your creativity? Because they were the weakest, most uninspired and embarrassing "your momma" jokes I have ever had the displeasure of reading to the point that they barely even qualify, And don't even get me started on your insults because I have met 3rd graders who have better insults. Your "oh look at me I'm a terrorist" shtick is so stupid and pathetic i couldn't help but cackle at your waste of energy like what do you want a cookie? Because you don't even deserve the crumbs of crap after someone else ate a cookie so who even gives a barfing fuck about it? You jackasses are about as threatening as some mild flatulence. I hope you piss ant's have fun dying alone and unwanted and that every time you think you have to fart you end up shitting your pants, i hope that every time you go to put socks on they are soaking wet and ice cold, i hope that the next time you are anywhere near a lego set or box of thumbtacks you step on one, i hope that every time you go to bed both sides of your pillow are annoyingly hot and give you lice, and lastly i hope that every single time you go to walk past a piece of furniture that you bang your toes on it hard enough to break your toe bones. Isn't it funny how quickly your bullshit unravels when someone actually intelligent calls you out? Do the world a favor and delete all of your social media, go apologize to whichever trees are working their proverbial asses off to replace the oxygen you're both wasting and then sew your mouths shut you cowardly wastes of skin. Id say you could learn from this but then I'd sound just as stupid as you two. Sayonara you worthless, crotch-stained barf-puppets.

( @warringwarrioridiot @p1n34ppl3-c4t24 for your reading entertainment)