#haunting your own life. is. a feeling to feel

[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return. 

[shdysders]

if only

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: if only tara would’ve chosen you for you, and not for who you were like.

word count: 3.2k

You knew it was normal for people to turn to alcohol after experiencing trauma.

The way it numbed the pain, dulled the sharp edges of haunting memories—it was something you had seen before, something you understood. After everything Tara had been through, it was the least you expected.

The massacre in Woodsboro had left her with more than just physical scars.

The betrayal of someone she had once loved—Amber, who turned out to be Ghostface—was a wound that cut deeper than any knife.

It wasn't just the shock of Amber's true identity, but the fact that Tara was the one who had to pull the trigger, killing the person she thought she knew in order to save her sister.

The memories of that night were like a broken record, stuck on replay.

Every time Tara closed her eyes, she was back in that room, her hands shaking as she held the gun, her heart pounding in her ears.

She would hold you tighter during those moments, as if the strength of her embrace could keep the nightmares at bay.

The way she kissed you harder, more desperately, or questioned where you were every time you left the room—these were her ways of keeping you close, of making sure she wouldn't lose you too.

You had known Tara all her life.

Growing up together, you'd always been close, but after everything that happened in Woodsboro, something had shifted between you.

It started small—extra moments of closeness, lingering touches that lasted just a little too long, her leaning on you more than ever before.

The change was subtle at first, but undeniable. When she started seeking you out not just for comfort but for something deeper, you couldn't bring yourself to resist. The truth was, you had started to feel something more for Tara too.

But as the days went by, you couldn't ignore the creeping doubt. That maybe you were just another distraction for Tara, another way to keep the darkness at bay.

Yet, whenever that doubt arose, she would somehow sense it, her arms wrapping around you tighter, her voice low and reassuring, even without you needing to say a word. That unspoken understanding only seemed to confirm your thoughts.

After the move from Woodsboro to New York, you had hoped that a change of scenery might help her start to heal.

But you weren't sure if it had made a difference. If anything, the bustling city seemed to give her more ways to bury her grief.

Tara threw herself into the whirlwind of college life, attending every party she could find, which in New York meant there was always something going on.

Every weekend, without fail, she was out late, coming home blackout drunk more often than not.

You were the first to notice the change in her. The way her hands trembled slightly when she thought no one was looking, the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights, and the way she buried herself in the noise and chaos of those parties—anything to keep from facing what was inside.

She would beg you to come with her to these parties, holding your hand a little too tightly as if fearing you might slip away in the crowd.

On nights when you had to study or work at your extra job, she would assure you she was fine to go alone.

But that assurance never lasted, always ending with you getting a call in the early hours to come and get her, to carry her back home when she was too far gone to stand on her own.

And tonight was no different.

You had been studying late into the night, the quiet hum of the city outside your window doing little to keep you company as you poured over your textbooks. The words on the pages blurred together as exhaustion settled in, but your mind wouldn't let you rest.

The quiet of your apartment seemed more restless than usual, and no matter how many times you turned over, sleep eluded you. You were used to going to bed alone on nights like this, used to Tara being out and about, so it wasn't her absence that kept you awake. Still, something nagged at the edge of your consciousness, keeping you from drifting off.

Finally, just as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the room. Groggily, you reached for it, squinting at the brightness.

It was Chad. Your heart sank a little as you answered, knowing that a call from him at this hour could only mean one thing. Yet you didnt hesitate before answering

"She's asking for you," Chad said quietly, his voice gentle but insistent. "She's... she's pretty far gone, and she won't leave until you come."

You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to shake off the fog of near-sleep. "Where are you?" you asked, already pulling on your clothes.

He gave you the address of some off-campus apartment, the kind of place that always seemed to be hosting a party. With a sigh, you grabbed your keys and headed out into the night.

The streets were empty as you drove, the glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the pavement.

You knew the route by heart now, having made similar drives more times than you wanted to count.

As you pulled up to the address Chad had given you, you spotted him standing by the curb, holding Tara up as she swayed on unsteady feet.

She was dressed as a pirate, her costume in disarray, her hat missing, and her eyeliner smudged. Her head lolled slightly as Chad helped her toward your car, her feet dragging along the pavement.

"Thanks for coming," Chad said quietly as he eased her down into the front seat. He lingered for a moment before adding, "I don't know how many she's had tonight."

You nodded, trying to muster a tired smile. "Thanks, Chad. I'll take it from here."

He gave you a sympathetic look before stepping back. "Be careful," he said, the concern clear in his voice.

Once Chad closed the door, you turned to Tara.

She was slumped against the seat, her eyes half-lidded as she stared out the window, lost in whatever haze the alcohol had put her in.

For a moment, you considered trying to talk to her, to get her to see reason, but you knew better. This wasn't the time for deep conversations, not when she was like this.

As you started the car and began driving, you couldn't help but break the silence. "Tara, you can't keep doing this. This needs to stop."

You didn't know how much longer you could stand by and watch her destroy herself.

She blinked slowly, turning to look at you with bleary eyes. For a moment, she just stared, as if trying to process what you had said. Then her expression hardened, her brows knitting together in a frown.

"I don't need you telling me what to do," she muttered, her voice slurring but laced with irritation.

"Amber wouldn't have."

This was always how it went—her getting pouty and defensive, like a child refusing to be told what to do. She always brought up Amber whenever she was drunk, throwing her name out like a shield, deflecting from the real issue at hand. It hurt to hear, but you were used to it by now.

You sighed, and after a moment, you answered softly, "I know."

When you finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, getting Tara inside proved to be a struggle.

She stumbled with every step, her legs barely supporting her weight, and you had to practically carry her up the stairs.

Every time she leaned too heavily on you, you feared you both might topple over, but you held on, determined to get her inside without waking anyone.

By the time you reached your door, you were exhausted.

Tara mumbled something incoherent as you fumbled with the keys, trying to keep her upright.

Once inside, you helped her move as quietly as possible to avoid waking Sam. The last thing you needed was her storming out and seeing Tara like this, not again.

With Tara still leaning heavily on you, you guided her to her bedroom, the familiar path feeling longer than usual.

She was stumbling more than walking, and every time she nearly slipped, you tightened your grip, your patience worn thin but still holding.

You finally managed to get her into her room, her weight heavy against your side as you guided her to the bed.

The moment her legs hit the edge, she let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You know, sometimes I think I'm just with you because it's easy," she muttered, her words slurred but cutting through you like a knife.

You winced, though you tried to hide it, focusing on helping her sit down.

The bed creaked under her as she slumped forward, her hands gripping the edge as if the room were spinning around her.

Her eyes, glazed over with a mix of alcohol and exhaustion, seemed unfocused.

"Like... you're just there, and I needed someone. Anyone."

She let out another laugh, this one quieter, more resigned. You could see the way her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her even as she kept talking.

Her words hurt, stabbing into you with a cruel edge, but you knew better than to take them at face value when she was like this. Still, it was hard not to feel the sting of her honesty—or what passed for honesty in her drunken state.

You stayed silent, biting your lip to keep from saying something you'd regret.

Instead, you knelt down in front of her, gently removing her shoes one by one, focusing on the small, mundane task to keep your hands from trembling.

You told yourself she didn't mean it, that she was just drunk and hurting, but the doubt was there, creeping in like a shadow.

Tara didn't stop, the alcohol loosening her tongue further. She swayed slightly, her eyes glassy but filled with something unreadable, something that made your heart twist in your chest.

"Maybe if... if things had been different, I wouldn't have picked you," she continued, her voice wavering.

Her words were slow, as though she were piercing them together as she went, each one a careful, painful blow. "It's not like you're the love of my life or anything. You were just... there."

Her gaze finally met yours, and for a moment, she seemed almost vulnerable, like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't pull back from.

You searched her face, looking for some sign that she didn't mean it, that this was just the alcohol talking, but all you found was the deep, gnawing ache of doubt.

Your throat felt tight as you fought back the urge to cry, the tears welling up despite your best efforts to push them down.

It was one thing to know she was drunk, that she was hurting and lashing out—but it was another to hear those words from someone you loved. To feel so disposable.

You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to focus on the moment, not the weight of her words. But the hurt lingered, a heavy presence in the room that you couldn't shake.

Still, you swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady. "Arms up. Let's get you changed."

She hesitated, her gaze lingering on you as if searching for a reaction. When she didn't get one, she huffed in frustration but lifted her arms anyway, letting you help her out of her costume and into more comfortable clothes.

You gently guided her arms into the sleeves of a soft, oversized shirt, the fabric brushing against her skin as you helped her pull it down.

Tara swayed slightly, her head lolling to one side, but you remained focused, carefully easing her out of her costume.

As you slipped her into a pair of comfy sweatpants, you noticed how she barely reacted, her eyes staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

You adjusted the waistband and made sure the pants were comfortable, avoiding any pinching or tightness.

With the costume set aside, you carefully adjusted her shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and ensuring it fit comfortably.

You avoided meeting her gaze, you could feel her stare and how she was looking at you. Angry, like everything you did was wrong.

You helped her lay down on the bed. You adjusted the pillow behind her head and reached for the covers, but before you could pull it over her, Tara's voice broke the silence.

She looked up at you, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of frustration and raw emotion. There was a hardness in her gaze, as if she was challenging you with the truth she was about to reveal.

"You know I only chose you because you're like her, right?" she said, her voice laced with anger, as if saying Amber's name was an effort in itself.

You froze, your hand still hovering above the covers. Even though you already knew who she was talking about, you asked quietly, "Like who?"

Tara's eyes bore into yours, and she said sharply, "Amber."

The anger in her voice was palpable, but you could also sense regret hiding beneath her words, as if she knew how much she was about to hurt you but couldn't stop herself.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask the sting you felt in your chest. "How come?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could, even though your heart was pounding.

Tara looked at you with a sharp gaze, almost inspecting your face for any hint of vulnerability.

When she didn't get the reaction she was searching for, it was as though something darkened behind her eyes, pushing her to keep going, to say worse things, as if she could force you to break.

She looked at you with unfocused eyes, her expression tight. "You look just like her when you smile," she slurred, her tone was sharper now, as if the words were meant to cut deep.

"The way your eyes crinkle up, it's like you're her twin or something."

She paused, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "And your laugh—God, it's just like hers. It gets under my skin.

As she spoke, her words seemed to drift into a bitter, almost mocking tone, as if the resemblance to Amber was a cruel joke to her. The laughter in her voice contrasted sharply with the hurt it left behind.

You stood there, feeling increasingly insecure about your smile, your laugh, and everything that had been said. The sting of her words left you questioning everything you thought you knew about how you presented yourself to her.

Her words felt like knives, each one slicing through you, but you remained still, biting back the pain. Inside, a storm of emotions raged—anger, sadness, disbelief—but you fought to keep them at bay, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

"You're always trying to be so understanding, acting like you know exactly what I need. It's exhausting, really," Tara continued, her voice growing harsher, the alcohol pushing her to say things she might've kept hidden otherwise.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

Memories flashed through your mind—times you had gone out of your way to do things for her, to make her feel better or to bring a smile to her face.

You had done so much because she asked or because you hoped it would mean something to her. But now, it felt as if everything you had done was just a game or a trivial pursuit in her eyes.

When she still didn't get the reaction she wanted, Tara's voice rose, almost desperate now. "You don't matter, you know? Not like she did."

That last statement shattered something inside you. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, but they came anyway, hot and unwelcome.

The room seemed to close in around you, her words echoing in your head.

You knew—deep down, you'd always known—that you couldn't compete with a ghost, with the memory of someone she loved so deeply.

Tara had brought Amber up countless times before, always with a mix of regret and longing that you had tried to ignore. Each mention of Amber, every story she told with a hint of nostalgia or pain, was a reminder that you were always secondary in her heart.

You remembered the times when, after a few too many drinks, Tara had let slip how Amber had been irreplaceable, how no one could ever fill that void.

You had brushed off those comments, hoping that with time, you could make her forget or at least help her heal.

But now, standing here, the truth was undeniable. You had tried so hard to be what she needed, but you could never be what she wanted most.

And yet, Tara wasn't done. Her voice grew louder, almost as if she wanted the whole world to hear her torment.

Her gaze was distant, and she started to laugh bitterly. "You have no idea how badly I want to break up with you," she slurred, her voice rising with a frustrated intensity.

Her voice grew louder, and you were starting to worry she would wake Sam up. "You look at me with all this love. And I can't handle it. It's like... I feel suffocated by how much you care, and it's not even real for me."

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your voice steady as you tried to process the pain. "I'm sorry," you said, the words barely escaping your lips, as if saying them aloud would make the hurt even more real.

Tara's eyes were drooping now, her anger slowly dissolving into exhaustion. But before she could drift off, she mumbled, almost as if to herself, "Might as well tell you the truth... you'll probably stay anyway, right?"

Her tone was a mix of bitterness and resignation, as if she knew, deep down, that no matter how much she tried to push you away, you would still be there.

Her words stung more than anything she'd said before, and you felt your chest tighten.

You took a shaky breath, your own emotions raw, and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Forcing a smile, even though it felt like a fragile mask, you gently pulled the covers up around her, smoothing them with careful, tender motions.

As you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you noticed her breathing was becoming more even, the last traces of consciousness slipping away. "Goodnight, Tara," you said quietly, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it as gentle as possible.

She murmured something incoherent, her words tired and slurry, before finally succumbing to sleep. You lingered for a moment, watching her with a heavy heart, wishing you could make her see how much you truly cared.

As you walked out of her room, the quiet of the apartment settling around you like a heavy weight, you paused at the door. The hurt from her words still fresh, you whispered to the empty space, the heavy words that she couldn't hear.

"I love you."

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : AFTER THE NIGHTMARE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Worst!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff because our man deserves it

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: Logan wakes from a nightmare about losing the X-Men and goes to the balcony to clear his head. You find him, comfort him, and bring him back to bed, holding him close and reassuring him that he's safe with you.

LOGAN WOKE WITH A JUMP, his chest heaving, sweat clinging to his skin like a second layer. The familiar shadows of your apartment stretched across the room, but he was far from calm. His breath was shallow, his heart pounding harder than it should have been. His mind was still trapped in the nightmare, reliving the loss of the X-Men, Xavier’s death, and the ruins of the life he once knew.

Next to him, you slept peacefully, completely unaware of the storm inside him. He stared at you for a moment, your face illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights outside, the sight of you offering him a brief tether to the present. But the images in his head—the blood, the destruction—tightened his chest. He didn’t want to disturb you. You deserved peace, not his haunted past creeping into the night.

Carefully, Logan slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake you. He pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and padded silently into the living room, his feet sinking into the worn rug you insisted on keeping. His hands instinctively went to the small box on the coffee table, fishing out a cigar. As he moved through the apartment, everything felt too quiet. The echo of his past still followed him, no matter how much time had passed.

The balcony door slid open without a sound, and Logan stepped into the cool night air. The city stretched below, bustling and alive, so different from the stillness inside him. He lit the cigar, the end glowing faintly in the dark, and took a long drag. The burn in his lungs felt grounding, a temporary distraction from the ache in his chest.

It had been months since the ordeal with Wade, the chaos of Deadpool’s wild world colliding with his own. You had met Logan through Wade, your best friend and constant source of trouble. Logan had tried to resist getting close to anyone after everything he’d lost, but you… you had snuck up on him. Your warmth, your patience—it was something he hadn’t expected. And now here he was, standing on your balcony, trying not to let his past bleed into the present.

Inside, the bed felt suddenly too empty, and you stirred, reaching for the space where Logan had been. Your hand met cool sheets, and your brow furrowed as you blinked awake, the soft glow of the city filtering into the room. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and glanced around. The apartment was still, but you could feel that Logan was no longer beside you. A small frown tugged at your lips as you slid out of bed, tugging one of his oversized flannels over your frame.

Padding barefoot into the living room, you didn’t have to search long. The faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air, and the glass door to the balcony was slightly ajar. You stepped out quietly, your heart tightening a little at the sight of him standing there, his broad shoulders tense, his gaze lost in the distant skyline.

Without saying a word, you moved behind him and wrapped your arms gently around his waist. Logan stiffened at the contact for just a second before he relaxed, his hand moving to rest over yours on his stomach.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice rough around the edges, but tender.

"Hey," you whispered back, resting your cheek against his warm back. "Couldn't sleep?"

He let out a quiet sigh, his free hand lifting to rub at his face. "Yeah, something like that."

You could tell from the tension in his body and the way he was avoiding your gaze that it was more than just trouble sleeping. Slowly, you moved around to face him, resting your hands gently on his chest. His eyes, haunted and far away, finally met yours. "What’s going on, Logan? Talk to me."

He took a deep breath, looking past you for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "Had a nightmare. About… everything. The X-Men, Xavier… what I lost in my world." His voice was quiet, strained. "I try to move past it, but sometimes it just… it all comes back."

Your heart ached for him. You knew Logan carried the weight of his past like an invisible burden, even on the best of days. His walls were thick, built to withstand pain and loss, but there were moments like these, where the cracks showed, where the vulnerability seeped through.

You slid your hands up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing gently over the scruff on his jaw. "I’m so sorry, Logan," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with understanding. "I can’t imagine what it was like to lose them. But you’re here now. You’re not alone anymore."

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much it had all been weighing on him, but with you, he didn’t feel the need to hide. "I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his voice low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you. "You. This… peace."

You shook your head gently. "You deserve every bit of it, Logan. We all have things we’re running from. You’ve carried enough alone. You don’t have to anymore."

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just took in the comfort of your presence, the way you held him without asking for anything in return. He let out a deep breath, one that seemed to ease a little of the weight off his shoulders.

"You’re too good to me, you know that?" he muttered, though there was a soft hint of gratitude in his tone.

You smiled, rising onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Someone has to keep you in line."

Logan chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you fully. The cigar, now forgotten, sat smoldering in the ashtray. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent of you—a small, comforting anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

After a few moments, you gently tugged his hand. “Come back to bed, Logan. You need rest.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I… I don’t know if I can. Not after—”

You cut him off with a soft smile, placing your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to face it alone.” Your fingers threaded through his as you led him back inside.

Once you were in the bedroom, you slipped under the covers and held them open for him. Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and the bed as if he was afraid of what would happen once he closed his eyes again. But with a reluctant sigh, he crawled in beside you, resting on his side, his back to you.

Sensing his unease, you moved closer, sliding your arms around his waist and pulling him into you. Logan stiffened for a moment, but then melted into your embrace, his large body relaxing as he let you spoon him. Your lips pressed gently to his shoulder, leaving soft kisses against his skin.

“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, your voice like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay to fall asleep.”

Logan let out a shaky breath, his hands covering yours where they rested against his chest. “I don’t know how you do it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Make it all feel… bearable.”

You smiled softly against his shoulder, continuing to place gentle kisses along his skin. “I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, Logan. I’ve got you.”

It took a while, but eventually, Logan’s breathing began to slow, the tension in his muscles easing bit by bit. With you wrapped around him, your steady breaths a comforting rhythm in the quiet room, he finally allowed his eyes to close.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan fell into a peaceful sleep, no longer haunted by the ghosts of his past.

———

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @wolviesgirl @veru-boom @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts @chronicallybubbly @lex-the-flex @evasmlp

I FINALLY POSTED NEW LOGAN CONTENT!!

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know❤️

[https-sourlimes]

home meals with you! . . .

featuring – aventurine x gn!reader

synopsis: there was a lot going on in his head... perhaps he thought, your cooking was too good for him, and he never deserved you at all...

consist of: 1k2+ word vomit... aventurine is a nervous emotional wreck, and if i say it's angst to fluff would you believe me? mentions of food, and marriage (champagne problems referred iykyk), domestic life w aven.

sincere regards to my pookie @akutasoda for helping me brainstorm an idea and proofreading; my favourite aventurine kisser @theother-victoria for proofreading <33

quality time was the love language that AVENTURINE did not know that he possessed. he never knew a thing or two of the reason why or when it started, but when he stirred awake by the warmth of sunlight streaming down his face, patting on the mattress beside him then found it empty, he'd end up dozing off again on his belly in your secured arms when he found you by the living room's couch; his weekend was dedicated to you, and he just wanted you with him, to selfishly ask for the affection that you showered on him always and think it would never be enough.

spoiling you until he's broken broke is what aventurine concepts. to him, gift giving is the effortless love language that he can express, whilst the four remains never worked out on the aventurine who lived in the orbit of lies and contract. he thought that it'll be easier that way, and he is slowly letting love once again thaw away his dense heart, and the one who did it so perfectly, much to his expectations, was you. then, to his surprise, the idea of you demanding shiny, glamorous luxuries or brands vanished when he found himself with you in the oti mall, browsing by the groceries, picking up the fresh ingredients of your liking, instead.

"i love homemade meals," you told him – and aventurine couldn't help the fond smile he was wearing when he looked at you tiptoeing to reach the higher shelves for the pasta box of your favourite and the childish excitement in your eyes as you skip back to him to show him what you got. and then suddenly, aventurine feels like he loves homemade meals, too.

does the image of you – putting your hand around his arm, aimlessly strolling through the shop while he was pushing the cart, your thoughts were elsewhere between the ingredients of the upcoming meal and never noticing that you were making his stomach churn – thrive him? i bet it does. because he can not concentrate, his eyes fixed on you, nodding mindlessly to whatever you're planning to make tonight (it doesn't matter because he will swallow it whole) then find the lamest excuses to kiss you, your hair, your face to satisfy his most intrusive demands. you are the biggest treasure that he has ever prevailed, he noted. you were trusting him entirely, giving unconditional love, staying by his side. how can he possibly live without you? you're driving him nuts!

and when aventurine's tongue touched the first bite of anything you made, sweets or savouries, he imagined filling his stomach full with your unyielding love, the one that undoubtedly never failed to remind him that he was yours truly to be cherished, to be taken care of. undeserving of you? yes, inevitably, or maybe that was just his thoughts; so aventurine found himself savouring every moment with you in the kitchen, invading your attempts to cook and stealing kisses, he knew he was going to dedicate the rest of his life to the person he intended to marry and to love you harder than you do to him.

aventurine never dares to dream about a family with you, he couldn't bring himself to crave it when the past of failing to protect his own in sigonia haunted him like some sort of ghost, everything feels illegal. the thoughts exiled the golden boy in prison of indecision and despair,... and then he stumbles upon the last words leaving his mouth when you mention wanting a betrothal life with him. he didn't feel ready yet – he'd fail you, (at first!), and it was disheartening. you said you understood and were there with him the entire time, but aventurine knew he was the problem, not you.

aventurine wanted to confide in you that he would be lying if he said his eyes weren't tearing up at the sight of you waiting patiently until he is ready, until he surpassed all of his trauma and reached his final decision. he knew he never deserved you, no matter how hard you'd been trying to make him feel like he did, he would then die for you, gambled all of his existence over again just to lose it all to your overpower love.

aventurine was a coward, he claimed. he couldn't bring his messed up life that once considered so insignificant that it was traded as some goods up for auction, and a chip he brought to bet in his high stakes with treacherous risks to dedicate to you, it was unfair for you, he couldn't be selfish. it was excruciating that he couldn't refrain himself from basking in your unconditional love, even if, to him, it was forbidden.

and when he had you pressed against the wall, aventurine lifted your chin up and kissed you fiercely with the best of gratitude and love, mostly to shut you up and to soothe his aching heart when he heard you repeat that you understood with that agonizing voice once again, aventurine said he was sorry, that he would do better and sort this out quickly to make everything up to you properly. it pained him to see you wait so voluntarily for him, he was trapped with hesitation, between letting himself love you with his entirely heart and the thought that you'd definitely deserve someone better than him?

but when on a beautiful friday, aventurine's heart burned selfishly with the swelling sight of you, wearing an apron so breathtakingly, humming to your favourite song on the phone sat beside the counter, the delicious aroma you're stirring filled his senses, his breath hitched, it felt like as if you had already been his spouse, cooking dinner, waiting for their husband to be home, and to his utmost selfish thought that spoke louder than all of his logical minds, just, what if... someday you got tired and gave up on him? would he be able to see you looking like this ever again?

"Kakavasha..."

he opened his eyes, the real name of his that you let slip so easily from your soft lips felt like a salvation; he hummed in response, gently holding your hand on his face as you looked down at the sleepy man on your lap. aventurine caressed the shiny cold material with a small exclusive gem he selected himself attatched on top of it that wrapped perfectly around your ring finger, contentment was written all across his face. ah, yes... he has been sleeping in his spouse's lap, no?

"can you please get up? it's almost past lunch and we haven't had anything properly," you sigh, the chuckle you let out helplessly.

aventurine stirred slightly before lazily sitting up, scooting closer and snaking his arms around you, holding you snuggled against him while he buried his face in your hair, sinking entirely in your presence.

"mhm... sit still. just a little longer. lunch can wait, i'll swallow them whole everything you make, anyway."

So if, once again, your husband dozed off on your lap on a calming sunday morning, make sure to do something with it. if not, please be prepared and stay strong with a clear mind or you'd end up getting charmed by his antics which he knew so well that it touched right in the soft spot for only him in you. (or you might as well pay him back with your own cooking technique, one of the reasons he married you home and loved you so good...)

© 2024 https-sourlimes. all rights reserved. (banner source: aventurine's eidolons 5 from official honkai: star rai art)

ending notes: *sigh* this man is making me feeling things. ❤️‍🩹 and tagging @synqiri because this cutie asked to be here <33

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[luvrodite]

RO'S KINKTOBER 2024

welcome to my second kinktober event!!! last year was so much fun and i hope you enjoy this one even more!!

warnings. please mind the individual warnings on each fic and bear in mind that you are responsible for your own media consumption. if you don’t like something, don’t read it! if you feel as though something is missing a tag, please let me know!

happy reading!

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE

GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S)

in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it. (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, penetrative text, begging, unprotected sex, creampie. more tags to come

ᯓ★ TWO. OCTOBER 5 | COCKWARMING

SIT STILL, LOOK PRETTY

jason doesn’t know what’s come over you, but he’s going to finish this chapter. then, if you’re good – and only then, he’ll make you cum.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, dominant jason. more tags to come

ᯓ★ THREE. OCTOBER 12 | MASK KINK

HUNT YOU DOWN, EAT YOU ALIVE

"did no one ever tell you not to walk around at night by yourself? it’s not safe around these parts." the only problem with his warning is – he looks like the not safe in question.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, predator/prey scene, public sex. more tags to come

ᯓ★ FOUR. OCTOBER 19 | INFIDELITY

SAY YOU GOT SOMEBODY, I'LL SAY, 'I GOT SOMEONE TOO'

he's patient. he knows how to play the long game, he's done it before. a new boyfriend is a hitch. that's all it is. he's always been a good problem solver.

content warnings. f!reader, cheating, obsessive jason todd. more tags to come

ᯓ★ FIVE. OCTOBER 26 | VIBRATOR

WHAT'S UP, BULLET?

in retrospect, it had been wishful thinking for you to hope your boyfriend wouldn't find out about the toy you kept hidden in a box beneath your bed. you just hadn't expected this reaction.

content warnings. f!reader, use of vibrator, minor overstim, cunnilingus, fingering. more tags to come

ᯓ★ OCTOBER 31 | SUCCUBUS

EXORCISM...

jason knows a thing or two about bad dreams, but the pretty thing that's been haunting his nights couldn't possibly be so bad, right?

...SEE YOU IN YOUR DREAMS!

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent, monsterfucking, succubus reader. more tags to come

ⓘ a reminder that you alone are responsible for your media consumption. if you don’t like something, don’t read it!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Worksheets: Death & Sacrifice

Worksheets & Templates Death; Sacrifice; How to Kill Your Characters

Use the following questions as a story guide, or to interview your characters...

DEATH

What do you think happens after you die?

How does the thought of death affect you? Why?

Whose death has affected you the most?

What is the biggest lesson that death has taught you?

How do the deaths of people you didn’t know personally affect you?

Recount your favourite death myth.

What would you like to happen to your body after you die?

What would you like to be written on your tombstone, in your obituary, or in a posthumous biography of your life?

If you were a ghost, what would be your favourite haunt?

What do you fear most about death?

How is death not what you feared?

Describe death as a person, creature, or symbol.

What are your thoughts on euthanasia?

Which fictional character’s death affected you the most?

Is your own mortality different to that of others?

How has your perception of death evolved over time?

Research a death ritual.

How does death create life?

Choose 3 very different characters and explore their relationships with death.

How would you solve the trolley problem? [The Trolley Problem: You are riding in a trolley without functioning brakes, headed toward a switch in the tracks. On the current track stand 5 people who stand to be killed if the trolley continues on its path. You have access to a switch that would make the trolley change to the other track, but another individual stands there. That person is certain to be killed if the switch is activated. So do you switch tracks or not?]

Write a fictional will.

SACRIFICE

How do you know it’s the right time for you to make a sacrifice?

What are you afraid of losing?

How will losing this change you?

How will not losing this allow you to stay the same?

What is the cost of not making this sacrifice?

Why is this sacrifice necessary to achieving your dreams?

How can you make it feel more like a relief than a sacrifice?

Why have you been chosen to make this particular sacrifice?

What are the steps you need to take to make this sacrifice?

How will you know that you’ve really made it?

How to Kill your Characters

A worksheet to kill off a character...

Why is the characterʼs death important?

When does it occur?

Why then?

How long does it take?

Who is there with the character?

What is the character’s reaction to imminent death?

What emotion is evoked in the reader?

Locations (associated with the character):

Objects (associated with the character):

Themes (associated with the character):

Ways to die:

Effects of death on other characters:

Effects of death on the story:

Source

[vividxpages]

༉‧˚📖❀༉‧₊˚."the craving"༉‧˚🤍❀༉‧₊˚.PART 2

Read Part 1 here 🤍

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 7200

summary: After your night at the inn, the tensions between you and your betrothed Jacaerys are running high. Finding yourself curious about the kind of lascivious literature your prince has been reading, you decide to go on the search yourself - with pleasant consequences for the both of you…

warnings: pining, the return of the infamous Targaryen kamasutra diary, oral sex (female receiving), making out, handjob, aftercare, cuddling

a/n: there is going to be a third and final part after this one <3 let me know what you think, I always love to chat and thank you for the love Part 1 got!

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃

You had always loved the library of Dragonstone.

The endless shelves bursting at the seams with history provided a peace and quiet you sometimes found lacking in your life, especially recently with the dark shadow of war looming over your family.

As you wandered through the many narrow passages between the books, you felt your mind calm down. With only the distant sound of the wind outside and a few busy scribes working around you, you dedicated yourself to your mission of the day.

You were not going to leave the library empty handed, not before you’d found what you desired; the mysterious diary Jacaerys had spoken of, in the night back at the inn…

The truth was simple, yet tangled and slowly driving you to the brink of your sanity; every night since your return to Dragonstone, you found yourself unable to sleep, at the brim of madness. Memories of Jacaerys and you, pressed against each other in the small bed as he slowly took you apart with his fingers and lips, haunted you.

You wondered if it only had been a desired dream, since your betrothed had gone back to being sickeningly sweet and attentive to you after your return. Jacaerys had taken most of his mother’s blow and the angered worry for the both of you, defending his choice to keep you safe through the night in front of the Queen’s entire council.

Standing beside him, your cheeks had been undeniably red as he had recounted the night of the storm, purposefully leaving out the part where he had fingered you to a mind-blowing orgasm, of course.

After the questioning, you two had fallen back into the same old dance and its rhythm as if your feelings for one another still had to be suppressed. But perhaps being sweet and chivalrous was Jace’s own method to keep himself under control before your long-desired union.

After all, you certainly did not have such methods for yourself.

The late hours in your chambers had been spent staring at the ceiling and listening to the waves crashing against Dragonstone. Tossing and turning, you had only been able to imagine the ghost of his touches on your skin, over and over, until you had to either firmly press your legs together or rarely indulge in your own wild imagination and the world of pleasure Jacaerys had opened up for you…

Since his quarters were close to yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if the same frustration sought him out at night and if he dreamed about your lips on his, your wetness on his veiny hand as he touched your most intimate part…

You took a deep breath and focused once again, traveling along the shelf where diaries and old reports were stored. A pleasant burn rested in your stomach, knowing Jace might’ve stood in the exact same place as you or would even return here to find that his precious book had been taken…

You grinned as your fingers drifted over a particular bound spine, a victorious flutter going through your chest as you noticed the lack of dust on it, although someone had seemed to hide it in the second row.

This was going to be a very interesting evening.

A little later, you were back in your quarters, curled up in the cozy velvet armchair by the high windows and completely absorbed in the book resting on your lap.

The diary you had hidden underneath your cloak on your journey back was open, a well-kept secret of your family now in your hands. In the privacy of your own four walls, you silently thanked your prince for his erudition as your eyes darted across the old rough pages.

You quickly discovered that the diary had been written by a nameless female ancestor of yours, her old ink writing elegant but faded. Her entries stretched themselves over nearly two decades, starting with her very first intimate encounter with a man and continuing to describe the adventures of her youth until she eventually found her forever love.

At the bottom of the very first page, she had scribbled: to all the princesses after me and their princes who should do good to take proper care of them. The little dedication made you smile.

Soon, you had begun to devour each entry without even noticing, the thrill of knowing Jace’s fingers had turned the same pages only spurring you on in your eagerness. And this diary was certainly…something.

It was lustful and forbidden and very, very detailed. You nearly choked on your own breath once as your dear ancestor had not spared any sexual details in her vivid descriptions, the stories sometimes accompanied by tasteful sketches of what her tumbling had looked like. You had never seen anything like it and soon, you found yourself squeezing your thighs together with your heart pounding in excitement.

Your thoughts wandered away from the current story and imagined how Jace must’ve felt reading those filthy passages. In front of your inner eye, you saw him sprawled out in his bed, dark curls resting on the pillows and his face brightened by the candles on his bedside table.

Had he been as aroused as you were feeling now?

In the inn, he had told you all he could’ve imagined while reading was you and your cheeks burned with realization, possessing the full knowledge of what he had meant back then. Did he find relief for himself when it had become too much, clinging to the book with one hand as the other slowly played with himself underneath the blankets? Did he whisper your name, squeezing his beautiful eyes shut as he-

A knock at your door sharply cut through the silence and you startled, nearly dropping your precious reading matter. Quickly, you cursed and put it back on the small table beside you, brushing out your skirts and taking a deep breath.

“Yes?”

Your heart skipped a beat as the door opened and Jacaerys peeked into your room, a small worried frown on his youthful face. “Good evening. Are you alright?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to come inside. Your betrothed closed the door behind himself and walked up to you as your eyes began to travel on their own, over the red and black of his attires, his dark curls lush and glossy in the candlelight of your room.

“I was worried about you.” Jace confessed to you, raising your hand to his plump lips and kissing the knuckles in greeting. This was a new habit of his and you were not complaining, although the small gesture always made you weak in the knees. “We missed you at dinner. I brought you something to eat, in case you weren’t feeling well.”

Only now you realized how dark the sky behind your windows had gotten already. Gods, how much time had you already spent with this book?

Your chest warmed at the sight of a well-filled plate in his hand, presenting everything he knew you liked from the kitchens. With a grateful smile, you admitted: “Thank you. I’m alright, I simply must’ve forgotten the time. I was…occupied.”

Jace raised an amused eyebrow at your odd explanation, placing the plate on the table, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Shall I leave you to it then?”

“No.” You answered quickly, your heart already longing for him although he was right in front of you. “I’d love some company. We’ve both been busy lately.”

Lately. Ever since the night of the storm, but you had not talked about the events at the inn since then.

Jacaerys let out a small – relieved? – sigh at your answer and the two of you sat down in the armchairs, your stomach growling at the variety of food your betrothed had organized for you. After a moment, you lifted your gaze to his and added quietly: “I missed you.” And it was true in more than one way.

“I missed you, too.” He replied in a heartbeat and watched you peacefully as you began to eat. The unexpected dinner was a wonderful treat after a long day like this, but it was not enough to distract you from the fact that you had not really been alone like this ever since that night. “I have not been neglecting you on purpose, I promise. You are way too dear to me for that.”

You looked at him with big eyes, quietly munching on a small sweetmeat as you shook your head. “I was not thinking such a thing, Jace. I know how busy your day is, now more than ever. Has your mother fully forgiven you by now?”

As you had foreseen, Rhaenyra had been out of her mind with worry when you had not returned as appointed and had given her son a very stern talk right in the dragon’s cave where you had eventually arrived at with your dragons. (The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if your dragons would’ve been able to take the late flight back to Dragonstone that night. If their sudden change of behavior – your own creature more affectionate towards Jace and Vermax oddly cuddly with you - could be any indicator, you almost suspected your beasts had somehow made a pact with each other to bring you closer…)

Jace sighed and rested his head against the back of his armchair. “I try to make it up to her every day, believe me. But if thrown into a situation like this again, I would not choose any different. I’d always choose you. Us, together and safe.”

“I’d choose the same.” You whispered breathily, your heart singing way too fast for an innocent confession between betrotheds like this. Underneath your conversation, something desiring and dark slumbered, only waiting for the right moment to jump out and remind you of your spent time between the sheets together. You swallowed, quietly adding: “You protected me that night, from the storm and my own reckless decision I would’ve made and I am grateful for it. I have told the Queen so myself.”

“I know.” He gave you a soft smile, the one that was only reserved for you, his princess. “I think deep down she has forgiven me already. She just likes to see me working even harder these days.”

You chuckled, taking a bite of a ripe strawberry with relish. When you looked up again, Jace’s eyes already were on your lips, how they curled around the sweet fruit and your tongue darted out to lick the juice from your fingertips, his dark pupils blown wide, body tense.

Suddenly, the dress on you felt way too tight for your body, your senses widening under his intense stare. But just like that, the moment was over and Jacaerys cleared his throat, causing you to go back to your dinner.

You wanted to curse yourself for your own timidness. You had shared far more than a space like this before your betrothed knew how you tasted and felt on his fingers and even before your wedding night had happened. So why were you so flustered out of the sudden?

In an unobservant moment, Jace casually reached for the book on your table and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You were helpless to watch as his eyes widened shortly with recognition, looking intently at the subtle cover.

“This is…” You had no idea how you wanted to end this sentence.

Jacaerys opened the diary right where you had placed a soft ribbon between the pages, his eyes skimming over the page before he looked up at you with a sly grin. “Ah. One of my favorite chapters.”

Oh gods.

Both embarrassment and excitement pulsed through you as heat crept up your neck at his knowing smile.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He asked adoringly, his fingertips softly tracing the ribbon. “Was my description not vivid enough so you simply had to find out for yourself, to see if I lied?”

You proudly lifted your chin, trying to feign confidence and ignore the shaking of your hands at his look fueled with unfiltered desire.

“Of course you have not lied to me. You were way too…” You bit your lip, your mind traveling back to the way he skillfully crooked his fingers against your sweet spot, dirty words leaving his heavenly mouth as he praised you… You cleared your throat, brushing your hands out over your skirts. “I knew you weren’t lying, but I had to see for myself. For…educational purposes.”

Jace nodded slowly and hummed thoughtfully. “I knew you were curious…” He leaned forward and offered you the book back. A notch confused, you took the diary from his hands, the old clothbound almost familiar already in your grasp. “And believe me, I am not here to interrupt your education tonight, princess.”

A low fire sizzled through you at the mischievous smile he gave you. It was a smile you couldn’t resist and you prayed you knew what this meant for you tonight. After all, you were going to be Jacaerys’ wife, sooner rather than later, and he was going to be your husband. You blinked at him innocently before you reclined against the pillow in your back, your fingers brushing over the golden edges of the diary.

“How considerate of you, my prince.” You said sweetly and a quiet exhale left Jace’s lips, clearly affected by your playful undertone. “Maybe we can learn together. That is, if my betrothed doesn’t have any other plans for the night?”

A dazzling grin made its way on Jacaerys’ face and with an elegance only the prince could possess, he leaned back against his armchair as well. He gestured invitingly to the diary in your hands and nodded at you encouragingly. “By all means, go on.”

Gods, in what situation were the two of you stirring yourselves into once again?

You forced yourself to remain composed in front of him, opening the book once more and beginning to read. But you only managed to drift over a few words before Jacaerys’ voice cut through the comfortable silence of the room and your head snapped up.

"Out loud." He said, simple yet demanding, his eyes burning embers sending a shiver down your spine.

"W-what?" Your voice sounded thin, perhaps a little intimidated but also...intrigued by your betrothed's command. The look in his eyes was the same he executed in the council room, sharp and attentive and willing to fight for what was his.

"I want to hear your voice." He explained, softer now. "Please read to me, princess."

You stared at him and the heat from before in your rosy cheeks started to spread like dragon fire, claiming your entire being. The dress on you felt way too tight and although you were not wearing your clammy riding leathers anymore, the same tension had now taken possession over you. And it was all because of the prince seated across from you.

Jace rested his chin in the palm of his hand, licking his plump lips as he kept your eyes captive with his own. After a moment, he nodded, a small encouragement you needed to return to the page in front of you.

With your finger ghosting over the soft ribbon, you began to read:

“When I met him that night, it was like our previous encounters from before had vanished, leaving me alone with my carnal desire…” You read to him, feeling him shift in his seat just outside of your vision. “The prince has been kind to me before, but as the hours went by and our wine glasses emptied, there was something else in his eyes, something I felt wanted to devour me and make me his. Taking him into my bed was inevitable and we both knew it.”

It was scandalous and wrong, to speak such lewd thoughts out loud with your betrothed right before your very eyes, but something made you continue, your voice growing stronger as you carried on.

“I was not aware of my own body like this until he made me, taking my hand in his own and showing me what I was capable of…” You swallowed thickly, the words hitting way too close to home. “Like he was painting flowers on my skin, my body bloomed under his touch and awakened me as if I had only slept my life away before…”

You thought of the rain splattering against the window, how Jacaerys had undressed you and how right it had felt to let yourself be kissed by him, your bodies melting together underneath the blanket until you had forgotten where you began and he ended. There had been safety back then and you knew there was safety in this moment as well, your Jace a steady and relying presence by your side.

“He surprised me, in more than one way, but what surprised me the most was when he went on his knees for me…” You lifted your head at the sound of fabric rustling and breathed out shakingly as you watched Jace stand up from his chair and kneel down in front of yours, looking up at you with his lips slightly open.

“What are you doing?” You whispered breathlessly.

“You’ve read this chapter before?” He asked back, gulping.

You nodded slowly, not able to look away from his pretty eyes. “Twice. It is written quite…poetically.”

Jace chuckled, easing your nerves as he softly stroked your naked ankle. Scandalous, indeed. “So you know how the story goes, my love?”

Gods, he was going to be the death of you.

“Yes…” You whispered, not trusting your voice anymore.

“If you’d allow me, I’d like to give you the same pleasure.” Jace proposed slowly, his voice a little hoarse. “I-…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since we shared a bed. I try to be…a good betrothed, but every night I close my eyes, I still hear your sweet voice, I feel your body against mine and it’s driving me mad with want.”

You were shaking as you leaned forward and cupped his cheek with one hand, successfully making him halt in his confessional ramble. Softly, you stroked along his smooth cheek with your thumb as he melted into the loving gesture. “Jacaerys…Why do you think I wanted to find the diary like you did? If you declare yourself mad, then we are both out of our minds. I have been thinking about you too as I was reading. You are all I can think about and I desire to be with you again.”

He looked at you like you were the sun, the whole world to him. “So you’d let me…?”

You nodded fiercely, your finger drifting over his cheekbone and his bottom lip. You exhaled softly as he pressed a quick kiss to the pad of your fingertip. “I trust you. I know you’ll take good care of me.”

“I will, always.” Jace vowed and took your hand in his once again, this time lifting your bare wrist to his mouth and softly kissing it, making you sigh longingly. Then, he gently led it back to the book in your lap and smiled at you. “Read to me, princess.”

You cleared your throat, trying to push all nerves away from you as you continued with the story.

“I was overly aware of his presence between my thighs, soothing yet commanding as he slowly unwrapped me, a prize he had dutifully won with his chivalrous affections…” You read and tried not to squirm as Jace slowly began to lift your light skirts, exposing your naked legs to the warm air of your chamber. You felt his hot breath fan over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in his wake. When his knuckles brushed along your calf, you bit your lip, suppressing a small groan.

“What happens next?” Jace wanted to know, his voice warm and deep and lulling you into a certain headspace. Briefly, your eyes met as he exposed your knees and with a sigh, your legs opened, making space for whatever he planned for you. And oh, how you knew what he planned and how much it affected you already, knowing exactly what was going to happen…

“He took his time and ignored my pleas, relishing every little buck of my hips as he neared the sacred place where I desired him the m-most-“ You faltered as you felt his lips on your knee, one single featherlight kiss before he moved on to the other leg, repeating his actions.

His hands brushed appreciatively over your skirts and higher and higher they went until you heard him exhale in awe. “You’re as beautiful as I remember…May I?”

“Yes.” You lifted your hips, assisting him in his efforts to get your skirt out of the way, but just as you lost yourself in the sight of him on your knees for you, he admonished you with a single look and nodded to the diary between you. You laughed quietly, your head spinning from the sensation of his hand stroking up and down your leg. “I believe I might’ve gotten betrothed to a devil instead of a prince.”

“A devil wouldn’t do what I want to do to you, princess.” He murmured, his warm palms now resting on your thighs, oh so gently drawing little patterns into your skin.

You soldiered on bravely, although it was getting harder to think when he spoke to you like this. “I was no stranger to the secret pleasures happening behind closed doors, but with him, I felt like I have never truly known them. He looked at me like I was his personal meal at a feast and he was a man that has been starving, desperate for- oh!”

You stumbled over your words, a hiss escaping your lips as his knuckles suddenly brushed along the damp fabric of your underwear. The sensation of his touch on the wet spot over your folds sent a sharp shiver down your spine and the glassy look in Jace’s eyes, fixated on your clothed center in front of him, did not help to ease the tension in you.

“For?” Jacaerys repeated dazed, licking his lips before he softly mouthed at your naked thighs, the muscles quivering underneath his sweet assault.

“For her.” You exhaled, but he only cocked his eyebrow at you.

“Come on, princess, you know the word she uses.” He tempted you teasingly, lazily reaching out and tracing a circle over your soaked-

“Her cunt-“ You breathed out, sweat gathering on your brow as your mind rushed down your body, making it harder and harder to concentrate on the diary in your hand. Your eyes fluttered closed as he peppered kisses along your inner thighs and his curls tickled your smooth skin.

Distantly, you felt his fingers unlace the little ribbons on the side of your underwear, gently exposing your heavenly center to him for the very first time. You heard him groan under his breath, his imagination during your first encounter underneath the blanket exceeded by the sweet reality of your weeping cunt for him.

“Princess…” He hummed absently, shuffling closer to you, his eyes flickering back and forth between your wet rosy folds and your half-lidded eyes. “I want to know how the story continues, don’t you?”

A tiny whimper left your lips as you tried to make sense of the words in front of you with Jacaerys so close to where you needed him so desperately now. “My cunt was a flower blooming under his attention and with each touch of his, another leaf seemed to blossom, making me f-forget myself and…gods, Jace, please-“

Finally giving in to your pleas, Jace pressed a kiss to your aching clit and set you aflame with it.

A surprised gasp left your lips as your hips twitched on their own and you dug your fingers into the armrest by your side. Your taste only barely grazed his lips, yet Jace groaned and rested his forehead against your thigh for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose himself while he stroked the soft flesh under your belly.

Jace slowly lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders – the way he had often dreamed about – and nudged you to continue, his burning gaze not separating from your pink pussy.

 “His tongue licked fire into me, unforgiving and merciless at my open whimpers and when I thought the pleasure I felt could not ascend more, he proved me wrong-“ You bit down hard on your lip as he dove in again, kissing your folds and clit like he had kissed your blue lips at the inn, experimental and delicately and forbiddenly good. “-and pushed me further, beyond the veil and further.”

“Gods, you taste divine…” Jace murmured against you, his tongue darting out to lick one fat stripe up your cunt, making you release a long drawn-out moan you could not keep in anymore if you tried. “Let me hear you, princess, I want to hear every little sound from your sweet lips.”

“T-the pressure in me kept tightening itself as he played me like a delicate violin, his spit mingling- gods, fuck-“ You squeezed your legs shut as Jace licked and sucked at you, the noises where his mouth worked outright dirty and driving you insane. “-mingling with my own juices, his eyes never leaving mine as he lapped at me…”

You had no idea if you were even speaking a coherent language anymore. You were floating, levitating above yourself and the boy between your thighs, devouring you as if you were the best thing Jace had ever been granted to taste.

Jacaerys once again did not let it show that he was just as new to any of this as you were, expertly eating you out like he had never done anything else. He kissed your cunt with eager passion, varying between slow licks of his tongue and fiery kisses and sucking against your clit until you could not keep up with him anymore, your body melting into the armchair behind you.

As you stumbled once again over a sentence, you mewled and instinctively held on to the first thing in reach. It was the best unconscious decision your body could’ve ever made for you.

Jacaerys let out a guttural groan, the vibrations of his sound sending a jolt through you as he moaned right into your cunt, your fingers tightening their newly found hold on his soft curls. His fingers dug into your plush thighs and you lost yourself just a little more when he looked up to you.

His swollen lips were glistening with your wetness and Jace looked drunk on you, his eyes hazily glazed over as he held your stare, leaning into your hand holding on to his hair.

Your head fell back, your mouth opening to a silent blissed-out o-shape at the intensity of his mouth on you and before you knew it, you found yourself begging for your betrothed, his long fingers carefully spreading your folds apart for him.

“Jacaerys… please-“ You whimpered, brows scrunched together and breath hitching as he soothed his fingers over your sensitive flesh once more. The book became useless in your hands as the words blurred together in front of your vision. “I can’t go on anymore, please.”

He barely separated himself from you as he sighed into your cunt, deeply breathing you in and intending to never unlearn this feeling. “I know you can do it, princess. Come on, I want to know how the story ends, don’t you?”

You couldn't care less about how the godsdamned story would end anymore, but you saw the way Jace was looking at you, the dragon of your house lingering just beneath the surface. He was serious and you would not leave this seat before he had you right where he wanted; on the same high edge he had led you to in that tiny little bed…

And oh, how fast you were racing towards it.

“There was no escape from the heaven he brought on me and as- oh…as I felt my end nearing, I knew I was ruined for an…any m-man after him who’d dare to compete- ah, Jace, a-against him-“ You whimpered, your thighs shaking on top of his shoulders as he went on and on on you, his perfect mouth nearly making you go cross-eyed for a moment.

Suddenly, your vision whitened out, the diary slipping from your limb grasp and falling to the ground as Jace’s tongue breached your walls. Your back arched and you let out an incoherent string of curses, humming and gasping pathetically as his nose rubbed against your clit and Jace’s long lashes fluttered closed. You could not help but stare at him in wonder, your beautiful betrothed worshiping at the altar of your hips, dragging his skilled tongue through the mess he had made of you.

He was exquisite.

And finally, you seemed to have fulfilled your reading duty and he was satisfied with the outcome.

Jace groaned deeply and placed his hands on either side of your waist, drawing you closer to the edge of the chair and towards his mouth, his hot breath fanning over you and sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you close, princess?” He mumbled lowly, not bothering to separate himself from you, his lips sending little jolts through your nerves.

“S-so close…” You nodded quickly, head thrown back and fingers still carding through his hair, his hands and mouth on you the only things that still kept you on this world. “’s so good, Jacaerys, I’m going to…”

His hands found yours and as he laced your fingers together, he kissed your swollen wet clit again, gently suckling on it and moving his head just a little bit, his teeth lasciviously grazing over you-

You let go of yourself, combusting into a million little stars through his guiding touches. Your peak was washing over you in powerful waves, your hips still grinding against Jace’s eager mouth, chasing the taste of your release on his tongue as if it was the saving water in a hopeless desert.

“Perfect…” Jace murmured as he looked up to you in awe, his cheek admiringly resting on your thigh and you let out a breathless chuckle, chest heaving and heart thundering as he licked his lips clean of your release. “You are divine, my love.”

You were puddy in his safe hands, sighing happily as he kissed your leg and swiftly scooped you up into his awaiting arms. You gladly clung to him and as he carried you towards your enticing bed, your disheveled skirts were dragged behind you over the floor as your legs wrapped around his waist, one of his hands soothingly brushing over your hair as the other supported your bum.

He could’ve walked to the edge of the earth with you like this, you were content, nuzzling his neck like an affectionate kitten and breathing him in. What a grand blessing your sweet betrothed was…

While you still tried to calm yourself down from your peak, Jacaerys gently placed you on your soft beddings and sat down beside you. He kissed your chin, your temple and then both of your fluttering eyelids, his hands securely stroking your sides as he leaned over you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, seeking your gaze.

You smiled at him, reaching up to tuck one of his curls behind his ear. “Magnificent.”

Jacaerys blushed and kissed your cheek to hide it. “It wasn’t too much?”

“No.” You slid your hand to his nape, an idea blossoming in your mind. “It was new and…intense, but I loved it. You were good to me, Jace. Although…there is one thing I am still longing for, my prince.”

He furrowed his brows. “And what would that be, beloved?”

You drew him closer until he hovered over you, his own breath quickening as yours fanned over his lips. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone and you leaned in to whisper: “I’ve not kissed you since that night.”

His pupils dilated. “We should change that.”

You grinned into the kiss as you both closed the distance and a deep part of you relaxed, as if you had been holding your breath ever since you took off to Dragonstone that morning. Jacaerys carefully held your face in the palms of his hands, but you felt that he was desperately needing this just as much as you did.

You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, although you were well and thoroughly sated for the night, only hungering for Jace’s pleasure now. You pulled him on top of you and sank into the pillows behind you, relishing the feeling of his lips moving against yours once more.

It was like the two of you were learning together, becoming better and better at knowing how to do this. He liked it when you playfully bit his bottom lip and you felt yourself growing hot when he licked into your mouth and time did not matter anymore as you made out with each other.

While his own hands were ghosting over your sides, his lashes brushing against your cheeks and tickling you, you steadied yourself on your elbows and pressed your chest against his. In a moment of tender weakness, you smoothed your hands over his chest and flipped the two of you around.

Jace let out a surprised grunt as he landed on your pillows, wondrously looking up at you and drinking in the sight that was you, now snuggly seated in his lap. His hands went to your waist, caressing your hip bones through the fabric of your skirt.

“Maybe I should make you read to me as well, my prince.” You considered sweetly, delighted in the way he breathed a little harder. “See how long you can concentrate while I play with you, hm?”

“Princess…”

You grinned, kissing the rest of his sentence away and sensually tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. After all, he was not the only one educated in the practices of pleasure now. Time to show what your nameless ancestor had taught you through her diary.

He opened his mouth, surely to protest and insist he was fine once more, but you simply gave him a look and he closed it again. The evidence for his arousal was hot and hard under you and when you experimentally ground your hips down, a small whimper left his lips.

“I will not have you end the night unsatisfied again, Jace.” You told him sternly, making yourself comfortable and at home in his lap as you nestled with his belt.

He shook his head, although you could see the desire still burning in his dark eyes, sparked by your sudden initiative to take some little control back. “Seeing you come undone was more than enough for me already, princess.”

You shushed him, your fingertip on his lips. “Let me make you feel good too, Jace. Please.”

Jace brushed your hair back and for a moment, you could see him arguing with himself before he finally gave in to you. “Yes. You…I would like that, if you want.”

A victorious smile made its way on your face. “I do.”

You clumsily fumbled with his belt as you slowly began to kiss his neck, exploring the sensitive skin you had not felt against your lips before but could not get enough of now. Jacaerys obediently made space for you and leaned back, his mouth opening silently and eyes closing as he concentrated on only you and your hands and lips on him.

Quickly, you found out a spot that made him hiss, a sensitive patch just beneath his earlobe, when you unbuckled his pants and slid your hands down his front, over his muscled stomach, down and further down until-

Jace moaned, his fingers digging into your hip bones as you palmed the front of his underwear, feeling him almost throbbing with need against your wandering hand. You leaned back in curiosity to take a look at your beautiful boy, biting his lip and blinking at you with worship written all over his face.

“Help me a little here.” You whispered and held out your hand to him. Jace let out a shuddering breath, realizing your intention. Chapter eight. You clearly both had read it.

You trembled as he let a little bit of his spit drool down into the palm of your hand, holding your eye contact and when your own spit joined and you freed his cock to wrap your hand around his length, he hissed as if he had burned himself.

You could not decide where you wanted to look. He was beautiful, longer than you had imagined and a little curved and you couldn’t stop yourself from thumbing the slit, the precome of his tip easing the way as you slowly began to stroke him.

“Fuck…” Jace bit his lip, suppressing a little whimper, but you were quick, your thumb touching his bottom lip and encouraging him not to stifle his sounds. You had no idea what you’re doing, the reality was different from when it was all just words on a page, but you seemed to do something right given Jacaerys’ reaction to your slow and tender strokes.

“Does it feel good?” You wanted to know breathily, your lips brushing against each other as Jace bucked into your hand, unable to control himself as your hand slowly took him apart.

Jace nodded, chasing your mouth as he cupped the back of your neck and drew you close, devouring you in a hot and passionate kiss that made your hand stutter with distraction. Your other hand was squeezing his shoulder and you moved together, a dance danced best in your bed, with the one you loved and who loved you back.

“Princess…” He whispered, his whole sight angelic and holy to you as you watched him mesmerized, the slick sound of your hand around him drowned out by the string of moans leaving his plump lips as you twisted your wrist. “Gods, ‘so good to me…I’m- I’m not going to last as long as the men in those stories…”

You chuckled, lightheaded with the endless love you felt, only doubling your efforts to make your betrothed feel good at your hands. You leaned your forehead against his and breathed: “I do not care. It’s you I want. And I want to watch you come undone, Jorrāeliarzys, as you watched me.”

He whimpered, eyes fluttering closed as you slowed your hand. It seemed like Jacaerys preferred it this way, a touch so drawn out it almost felt like nothing, but was everything. You peppered kisses along his neck and exposed collarbone, coaxing him towards the same cliff you had tumbled off earlier, feeling his shivers and the strain in him as you took care of his need.

“Come on, Jace…” You lured, pressing one last kiss to his open lips before you added near his ear in a whisper: “Come for your wife, my love.”

Jacaerys’ head fell back as he released a languorous long moan, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed, your hand guiding him through the high as you watched him awestruck by his beauty. You stayed close and leaned against him, playing with his hair as he recovered, a panting mess you had made of him and you felt yourself cuddling close to.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he did not speak, only drawing you tight against him and combing his fingers through your hair.

“Yes…I’m perfect.” He murmured and nuzzled his nose against your neck. “Just need a moment. You are a gift from the gods, my love.”

You blushed, busying yourself with gently tucking his length back into his pants and sighing happily. “This silly little diary, huh?”

You laughed together, the vision of two young lovers, happy and sated. The adrenaline and giddiness of both your actions was coursing through your veins at full force, now that the haze of pleasure had lifted from your mind.

After a while, he grimaced at the mess on your hand and you laughed quietly as he grabbed his cloak from your nightstand and quickly wiped it off for you.

“It’s not that bad.” You insisted giggly, but he was having none of it.

“I won’t have you having to sully yourself with my mess.”

“Jace, earlier your chin was covered with my-“

“Shh…” He shushed you gently and pulled you close, sinking into the pillows with you tucked against him, your head fitting just perfectly underneath his chin. You had missed the way your body fitted perfectly against his own, not protesting anymore as he hugged you close to his chest.

„I can hardly wait to get married to you…” You mumbled sleepily against his neck, your hand finding its way into his lush curls.

He smiled against your temple, his arms drawing you closer against his chest as he rested his chin on your head. “I will relish every day I’ll have with you by my side as my wife then. As I relish every moment with you now, my love.”

You hummed happily, an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest at his promise. Drawing a tiny heart on his chest, you looked up into his eyes with a plea. “Can you stay? Just a little longer until I’ve fallen asleep?”

Both of you knew he could not stay here for the night. It had been a challenge already to slip into your quarters without raising suspicious questions. But if the prince would spend the night in his betrothed’s chambers? You’d raise a scandal neither of you wanted to face or deal with.

“Of course.” He cooed and you relaxed, melting in his embrace as he carded his fingers through your hair. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” You murmured sleepily, timidly kissing his jaw one last time as exhaustion claimed your body and bones. It was the sweetest déjà vu, your embrace similar to the one you had shared in the inn. But only this time, your hearts beating peacefully in sync with each other.

“Sleep well, princess.” Jacaerys whispered tenderly and watched as you drifted off into sleep.

He did not leave you for another few hours, but when he eventually had to, he swore himself he was going to make you fully his as soon as possible…

Perhaps a conversation with his mother was more than overdue.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃

my taglist: @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[captn-duck-gremlin]

Well shit, since people like the thing i guess I'll continue.

Shit it needs a name, uh, eh, phasmo.. uh..

Phasmo hearts?

Phasmo Hearts~

Yeah, sure.

Anyway.

Getting on with it, so you have 4 demons or ghosts haunting you. I could stick to them all being demons or assign them a ghost type.

Ghost is a wraith (what a surprise). Gaz is a poltergeist. Soap... He can stay a demon. And Price is a revenant. (This idea came from when i was playing Phasmophobia with a friend).

Now in the daytime, they can't do anything. Can't bother you at all. Not within the first few weeks of being with you at least. They don't have infinite power, doing spooky hauntings takes a lot of energy. So during the day nothing is strange, but as time goes on theres very subtle things that do happen on the rare occasion. A normal picture you have hanging up, whether it be a family photo, poster or what-have-you. Every now and then changes to something you saw in one of the strange dreams. But the second you look away and look back, its back to whatever it was originally.

It's things like that.

Or you're mindlessly standing in your kitchen, trying to come to a decision on what to have for breakfast. And then the choice is made for you by either a random thump at a particular cabinet or by a cereal box "mysteriously" falling out of place.

And that feeling of constantly being watched slowly gets stronger and harder to ignore over time, you've learned to cope.

But remember your friends who were not as nice while exploring? Oh they're not having a good time where they are. No, they're getting the actual haunting experience. You just have undead roommates who seemingly like you more than they should. Now at the start of this all, you try to figure out what's going on, you try to do research, you talk to friends, you try avoiding sleep. Which they hate with a passion, don't avoid sleep, because they can turn your dreams into nightmares. But anyway, you spend too much time trying to figure out what's happening until the small signs become clearer. You're haunted. Do you try to get rid of them? No, you don't. Because you actually take the time to think it over. One hand, the obviously paranormal problem. On the other hand, they've.. haven't done anything too horrible. Yes, the nightmares sucked but that was your own fault and you talked it out with them (in dream). So with sigh you accept your fate. At night, you dream a weird life with the beings haunting you. At day, they don't bother you all that much. Of course the late hours of the day they have a bit of a chance to do things, messing with whatever like the tv, radio, maybe move something by a couple inches, make a thump somewhere around. You'll get used to it.

[myfavouritelunatic]

More Painful Sacrifices - Chapter Two

Surprise! I was simply too inspired by episode six, I had to continue this! And I've already planned a third chapter as well haha.

Enjoy! ❤️

The clink of the shackle around Galadriel’s wrist rang in her pointed ears. A reminder of her imprisonment, that despite her ‘dinner’ with the orc leader, her freedom was not currently her own. Though this food was more appealing than the bowl of slop at least.

“We will speak again.” Adar uttered as he walked away, leaving Galadriel chained to her seat and staring almost vacantly at the table before her. She felt her mind spiralling, sent down into an endless abyss from which there was no escape. How could a creature such as Adar share a common experience with her? How could he know what it is that he made her feel? Another reason to add to the many of why Galadriel must see to Sauron’s end. And now, with Morgoth’s crown, the existence of the rings… that end might just be possible.

Though she felt… hollow. Breathless. Lifeless. The acknowledgment of the absence of Sauron in her every day… it had put a name to that heartache. And while Galadriel loathed that her and Adar had an understanding, it was strangely reassuring to know that the emptiness she felt was real.

It meant that what they had—

Was real.

“Get out of my mind!” Galadriel hissed at the disembodied voice in her head.

Then you do not wish me to stay? To fill the void my absence created?

“I wish for you to torment me no longer!”

I only want to heal you, Galadriel.

“Stop! Stop it! I am never going to come to you, to be at your side! Cease your futile efforts, Deceiver!”

Let me help.

“You have helped me enough. I am in pain with you, I am in pain without you, my world is forever changed, even more so than after you took my brother from me! I cannot go back to the life I once had because of you! But I would rather you be gone from me than hear your voice grind within my head!”

They still doubt you, Galadriel. Don’t they? They see no other path for you than the one I have laid at your feet. Why not take my hand and walk its way?

“You know very well why! Or are you not as clever as is told?”

Are you? All other roads are blocked to you. I know you do not wish to be alone. I felt it when we—

“No. Do not.” He flashed an image in her mind, the two of them on that log. The moment that haunted her still. Where he had her by the throat with an invisible grip.

Is it not this… feeling between us… is it not that which makes you barren?

“No.”

Remember how it felt, Galadriel. Remember all we did together. Remember how you felt when you looked in my eyes and saw me. Saw your kindred spirit. Saw at last… the one who would share your burden. Who understood your darkness. Remember how it felt. Remember what it awoke.

“Awoke?”

That part of you that had laid dormant so long. Your fëa began to sing, it began to call to me.

“What?”

It knew, the deepest part of you knew you had found what you were meant to find. And in that song a fire did spark, and in me it did rage, Galadriel. Can you feel the embers tickling your skin? Igniting your flesh like dry brush begging to be incinerated?

“Please… Halbrand… I cannot—"

“You can.” His voice whispered in her ear, coming from behind her, like a spectre summoned with the utterance of his name.

Even though it wasn’t his name. Not really.

And they weren’t Halbrand’s hands now either, but Galadriel felt them upon her shoulders, running slowly down her arms, stopping only when one hand came to rest atop her own, and the other hand grasped at her iron cuff.

He was here. Again. Visible only to her eye, but still feeling as if flesh before her.

“There would be no chance of chains with me, Galadriel.” “I beg to differ.” She replied staunchly. Sauron laughed lowly, a sound just for her. “Though… if you insisted…” He breathed on her neck, and the elf could feel, just as he said, her skin being incinerated. She gasped. “Stop resisting me. You only delay the inevitable.”

“Remove yourself from me. I beg you.” “Or what? All I am doing is giving you what you desire. I am the only one that can give that to you.” Sauron stated, before moving himself around to kneel at her side, in an almost gesture of submission. She kept staring ahead, desperately committing to memory every morsel of food upon the table. Doing anything to not see him. Anything to not spend a moment thinking about what desires his irresistible power could fulfill. “I am here for you, Galadriel. Not for myself.” “Deceit. Everything you do is to serve yourself.” “Look at me, Galadriel. Please.” She held fast and kept eyeing a particularly thick bone that had only a sliver of white meat remaining at its tip.

“Galadriel…” His voice fell to a whisper, which matched the ghosting touch of his hand that now moved across her thigh. She tensed. She heard gravel move. He had shifted closer to her, his hand now stretched across her lap, moving slowly across her other thigh, more firmly now. The she-elf still resisted. But then she felt something heavier come to rest upon her, and knowing only what it could be, she feared it. She feared more than ever to glance down at him.

For it would be her undoing.

“Galadriel…”

Halbrand’s voice. Why did it have to be Halbrand’s voice? His song calling back to her, telling her he was ready, that he wanted her equally. That the feeling between them was shared. He was so warm in her lap, it was as if she could feel the fire he spoke of, the flames within him that she had ignited.

She lifted up her free hand with the sudden intention to push Sauron off of her, but was taken aback by something she did not expect. The absence of her ring. Of Nenya. This was the hand upon which it had rested, this ring that had guided her. And even though it was gone now, there was a truth she could not deny.

It had lead her here.

To Adar.

And to Sauron. Just as she knew it would.

It was exactly as he said. Inevitable.

In that moment she finally let her eyes fall upon the beast in her lap. But a beast he was not. All he was, was Halbrand.

Galadriel began to cry.

She watched one of her tears land on his cheek, and he did nothing to brush it away. He only gazed up at her, smiling with that warmth that radiated within him. She could feel his thumb grazing her leg. “H-halbrand…” “Shhh… it’s alright. I’m here. At last.”

The hand she raised in hatred, was now brought down upon him in love, and even though he wasn’t truly here, she could feel him. She could feel all of him. His hair was so soft, and he sighed as she ran her hand through it. Halbrand nuzzled into her, and all the tension Galadriel had been carrying was suddenly released. She let go. She gave in.

She stopped resisting.

“What are we to do?” She asked him, her voice still trembling from the plethora of emotions spilling from her heart. “We will be together soon. Don’t worry.” Halbrand spoke softly into her belly. “But how?” “You need not know how, Galadriel. As long as you know when. That is all that matters.” He suddenly reached for her hand, pulling it down to his lips. His kiss scorched her and lingered like a scar. But it felt so good. She wanted more.

“I told you… what you felt… I can give it to you. If you’ll let me?”

She felt her desire begin to well up inside her, to the point of it expelling from her bright blue eyes, falling down into his heated pools of hazel. Galadriel watched as he kissed her palm this time, not breaking their shared gaze, and his tongue joined his lips to meet her flesh. The she-elf gasped, and Sauron smiled, before he vanished like he was never there.

Footsteps drew near.

The now familiar stalk of the father of the orcs.

Adar had returned.

But he would not find all of Galadriel waiting for him.

For Sauron had taken her heart.

[raekensluver]

echoes of loss and love

description: you are haunted by memories of your relationship with fred weasley before his death. you feel like you're stuck in a loop, unable to move on when one day, george tells you fred was going to propose.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, platonic!george weasley x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of the hogwarts war, fred's canon death, survivors guilt.

song rec: all i want by kodaline- "but if you loved me, why did you leave me?"

w.c: 1.8k

an: to whoever wrote that one fic where george dyes his hair blue because he hates that whenever he looks in the mirror he sees fred- count. your. days. thx !!

the morning air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of fresh dew from the burrow. you sat on the edge of the bed, your feet touching the cold wooden floorboards, feeling the weight of the world press down on your shoulders. your eyes scanned the room, lingering on the frayed curtains and the chipped paint on the walls. the familiarity of it all brought a pang of nostalgia and a deep, unshakeable sadness. you had not slept well, as was the norm these days, plagued by dreams that felt more like echoes of a past life than mere nocturnal imaginings.

george lay sprawled across on his own bed on the other side of the room, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. his face was a portrait of peace, untouched by the burdens that you knew he bore in his waking hours. the sight of him there, so much like fred, yet so painfully different, brought a lump to your throat. you remembered the countless nights you had spent in this very room, sharing laughter and secrets with the two of them until the early hours of the morning. the twins had always been inseparable, a unit, a force of nature that could not be divided. but now, fred's side of the room remained cold and untouched aside from your movement, a stark reminder of the gaping hole left in both your heart and the fabric of the weasley family.

you stood up slowly, the floorboards creaking beneath you, and padded over to the window. outside, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft, warm light on the dew-kissed garden. the leaves on the trees were tinged with gold and red, whispering of the approaching autumn. it was a beautiful scene, but the beauty felt hollow, as if the vibrancy of color was only a cruel mockery of the emptiness you felt within. you leaned against the windowsill, your eyes tracing the patterns the light made on the floor.

the guilt was a heavy, constant presence, like a shadow that never left your side. you had been there when the wall exploded, when fred's life had been so brutally extinguished. the sound of the blast still reverberated in your ears, a never-ending echo of the moment that had torn your world apart. his laughter, his warmth, his very essence had been wrenched away from you, leaving nothing but cold, empty space. you could still see the look in his eyes, the flash of surprise and pain, the way his hand had reached out for you as if he could somehow pull you into safety.

for a while, george had been cold towards you, his grief a tangible barrier that you couldn't breach. every time you looked at him, you saw the accusation in his gaze, the unspoken question of why it had been fred and not you. you understood his anger, his pain, but it didn't make the silent treatment any easier to bear. the burden of guilt grew heavier with each passing day, each missed opportunity to apologize or explain, to somehow make it right. but what could you say? there were no words to justify the cruel hand of fate that had taken fred from you both.

you decided to make some tea, hoping the warmth would soothe your soul. the kitchen was quiet, the embers of the fireplace glowing dimly. as you filled the kettle with water, the rusty pipes groaned, reminding you of the burrow's age. the weasley's had lived here for generations, and it was a place filled with love and laughter. now, it felt like a museum dedicated to a happiness that no longer existed. you placed the kettle on the stove and watched as the flame grew, the heat slowly spreading through the metal.

staring at the teapot, you waited for the water to boil. it was a simple task, one that had been done countless times before in this very kitchen. but today, it felt like a monumental effort. every second that ticked by was a reminder of the moments you had lost with fred. the teapot began to whistle, a shrill sound that pierced the silence. you jumped, startled, and hastily turned off the stove. the whistle died down, leaving only the soft hiss of the cooling water. you paused, your hand hovering over the teapot, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. fred had always liked his tea with three lumps of sugar and a dash of milk, just like his mother made it. the thought brought a bittersweet smile to your face.

the door to the kitchen creaked open, and you looked up to see george standing there, his hair a wild mess from sleep. his eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt like you were seeing fred in his place, the same look of curiosity and concern mirrored in his twin's gaze. your heart clenched, and you had to look away, focusing instead on the steaming kettle. "can't sleep?" he asked, his voice thick with the grogginess of early morning.

you nodded, your voice a whisper. "same dreams."

george's eyes softened with understanding. he padded over to the table and pulled out a chair, the legs scraping against the floor. "i know," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "it's like he's still here, but every time i turn around, he's gone again."

you filled two cups with tea, the warmth of the porcelain comforting against your cold palms. you slid one across the table to him, and he took it with a nod of thanks. "it's just… i can't shake the feeling that i should have done more," you confessed, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. "i should have been able to save him."

george was silent for a long moment, the only sound the clinking of spoons against the sides of the cups as you both added sugar and stirred. "you can't blame yourself," he said finally, his voice gentle. "none of us could have seen that coming. it was war, and fred knew the risks."

you took a sip of your tea, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. "i know that," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "but it doesn't make it any easier."

george reached across the table and took your hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. his eyes met yours, and for the first time since the battle, you saw something other than pain and anger in them. there was a glimmer of understanding, a bridge built from shared grief. "you know," he began, his voice low and tentative, "after it happened, i kept thinking about all the times we argued, all the little things that didn't seem to matter. i wish i could take them all back, tell him how much he meant to me."

you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. "i do too. i wish i could tell him how much i loved him."

george took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "you know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "fred had plans for after the war."

your heart skipped a beat. plans? what could fred have planned that you didn't know about? "what do you mean?"

george's gaze fell to the table, his thumb still moving in soothing circles on your hand. "he had a ring," he said, his voice barely audible. "he was going to ask you to marry him, after the war. said he couldn't wait any longer to make it official."

a cold shock washed over you. a ring? fred had wanted to marry you? you felt your breath catch in your throat, the reality of what you had lost sinking in even deeper. "what happened to it?" you managed to ask, your voice shaking.

george's eyes searched yours, and then he got up from his chair, leaving his hand on the table. "he hid it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "he didn't want to carry it with him in case…" his voice trailed off, and you could see the pain etched on his face. he disappeared from the room, leaving you sitting there, the cup of tea cooling in your hand, the words echoing in the silence.

a few moments later, he returned, a small, worn box in his hand. he placed it on the table between you, and you could see his hand tremble as he pushed it towards you. you picked it up, your heart racing. the box was old, the leather cracked and faded, the clasp stiff with disuse. you opened it, and there, nestled in the velvet, was the ring. it was a simple band of gold, with an intricate knot design, the kind that fred had always loved. a small diamond glinted in the early morning light, winking at you like a teardrop frozen in time.

you slid the ring onto your finger, and it fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for you. it was a strange sensation, a warmth that seemed to seep into your very soul, a final gift from fred that you hadn't expected. the weight of it felt right, like a piece of him that you could hold onto forever. you looked up at george, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and hope. "he picked it out himself, " he said, his voice thick with emotion. "he wanted you to know that you were it for him."

you didn't know what to say, so you just sat there, staring at the ring, feeling the warmth of fred's love through the metal. the silence stretched between you, filled with a thousand unspoken words. the sun was now fully up, casting a soft glow through the kitchen window, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. it was a moment that felt both surreal and achingly real, a moment that you knew would be etched into your memory forever.

finally, you found your voice. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes still fixed on the ring. "for telling me. for giving me this."

george nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "you were the best thing that ever happened to him," he said, his voice cracking. "i know he'd want you to have it."

you felt a lump form in your throat, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. instead, you leaned across the table and hugged him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his familiar scent, so much like fred's. it was a bittersweet moment, one that brought both solace and pain.

for a while, you sat there in silence, sipping your tea, the ring feeling like a lifeline to a past you could never quite touch again. but it was a lifeline you were grateful for, a tangible piece of fred that you could hold onto. as you sat with george, you realized that while you would never be able to fill the void left by fred's absence, you had each other. two broken halves of a whole, trying to find a new way to live in a world that had changed irrevocably.

[reaper-in-reverie]

—come, stay a while.

(though it's not nice to see a familiar face.)

preview.

Wrinkles settling in his forehead with his eyebrows knitted together, a deep, skeptical frown upon his lips as he scanned his reflection, a sense of dread filling him at the familiarity of it.

Oh god, he looked just like him.

synopsis. kaiser, and how his change doesn't seem to change much at all. angst. character interpretation.

warnings. derealization. typical kaiser backstory implications - abuse, neglect, etc. alcohol/alcoholism mentioned. blood but only very little. 1k words. not proofread.

notes. ooc definitely lol. i think it's a bit too melancholy but i don't plan on fixing it. I am projecting so hard. the hyperspecific details are actually references to me :3

He could physically feel himself get worse on more stressful days.

The dull bathroom light illuminated the mirror as Kaiser stared into it. He brushed his blond locks from his face, scanning his own features; the stress of the day etched into them, the natural gleam of attractiveness in his eyes.

He'd accepted a long time ago his life was but a reflection of people before him.

In the mirror, in puddles of rain, in the words of people around him — "you look just like your mother!" It used to sting, the reminder of a mother who looked exactly like him yet he never knew; never loved him as a mother should. First there was anger, spreading over his whole being like a wildfire — why compare him to such a coward, run from home and left her blood behind?

He hated it, disowned it like his mother did him; he hated his blue eyes, which seemed to naturally have a charming gleam in them; he hated his blond hair, which seemed so naturally beautiful he had to make an effort to keep it shaggy, to try to keep him as different from his mother.

The acceptance took years to settle. Eventually he'd come to live with the fact that his reflection was the only thing his mother had left for him to keep. He'd come to find comfort in this fact — somewhere in his blood he was both blessed and tainted with memories of his mom. Truly, engraved within his blood and soul, he still belonged to something. Almost comfortingly, he belonged to his mother. But he did not know his mother. She had no arms to hold him, no voice to guide him; just a face, haunting him in every reflective surface.

Kaiser would stare into the bathroom mirror and not see himself.

Now Kaiser would stare into the bathroom mirror and expect to his mother.

He brushed his blond hair falling into his blue eyes again, in search for something to belong to.

This time, there was something else.

Wrinkles settling in his forehead with his eyebrows knitted together, a deep, skeptical frown upon his lips as he scanned his reflection, a sense of dread filling him at the familiarity of it.

Oh god, he looked just like him.

For the first time, Kaiser felt the intense urge to cover his face. He winced at himself, looking into his own eyes with extreme disgust and judgment, his own expression reminding him of someone else. Why would his father make an appearance now? He'd just never thought he'd find himself looking like...

He tried looking himself in the mirror again, brushing some of his bangs out of his hair. Some pathetic part of him searched for his mother in the reflection, yearned for her care the same way he had when he was younger. And still, like before, there was no one who came to his side. He couldn't unsee it.

He took a sharp breath in, rubbing his eyes long enough until he had splotches of black in his vision. Kaiser looked himself in the mirror again—

And still, his father was there. Silently staring from the mirror in judgment.

Suddenly Kaiser was ten again. When he looked up to the low ceiling, there were splashes of milk stretching out from above his bed up to the corner of the room, painting the ceiling with stars. The pads of his tiny fingers were bleeding from trying to open a can of tuna. The familiar scent of alcohol filled his nostrils — his father was drunk in the living room — but he didn't move from his bed to ask his father for bandages. He did not move to ask his father to open the can himself.

His bedroom walls slowly rotted away, cracks in the corners, the paint peeling off. It didn't take much to notice how many things were in bad condition; entering the house itself had the doors creaking, hell, even the door to his own rotting bedroom creaked loudly when opened.

But Kaiser did not ask his father to get the walls fixed. He did not ask his father to oil his doors' hinges. He did not ask his father for anything. Excluding maybe all the times he'd beg not to be hit...

But he did not ask his father for anything.

And to think that but a child was soaking up such an environment. A polished and unassuming to-be-copy as it sat in the corner of the room. All he could do was reflect what he hungrily absorbed.

That's enough. Kaiser turned away from the mirror, hastily shutting off his bathroom lights. He didn't want to keep seeing his father in himself. He didn't want to see at all.

He walked into the connecting room, leaving the bathroom door open and grabbing a glass to fill with water. He swallowed with fervor, a dizzying feeling of misplaced yet familiar paranoia washing over him in waves.

He had to remind himself he wasn't ten anymore. There weren't any more rotting walls and no more drunk fathers in the living room.

So what was scaring him?

No, what was scaring him more: that it still felt as if his father was here, looming over his every move and judging his every mistake; or that he was the one bringing his father into his own life, in his own actions and in his very reflection.

That somewhere deep down, down to the very nature of his soul, he was bound by blood to a monster.

That somewhere deep down, he belonged to something.

Kaiser glanced towards the rest of his home now. A small apartment. He didn't even live in Germany anymore. Still, he felt he was carrying some part of himself with it. Eerily, it was like nothing had even changed.

Some of the paint on the walls were peeling. He placed the glass of water down to nervously rub the pads of his fingers together. He noticed the bathroom door was still open. Crossing the room to get his hand on the handle, he took one last glance at the mirror. It was dark in the bathroom. He couldn't see himself. He pulled the door closed.

The door creaked loudly shut.

║Ⓒ reapkusho on tumblr. 2024. all rights reserved. refrain from translating, copying, or stealing in any way, etc.

[squash1]

ok so you know how people say that everyone in your dream is you?? well. i’ve been thinking about that in connection to the idea that maybe ronan’s dreams are all just different versions of him. that matthew, in all his goodness, his unfiltered, unrelenting joy, is ronan or a part of ronan — an extension of himself. that ronan’s night horrors — these terrible, unreal, creatures that only want to kill him — are really just an extension of him. that opal in her orphaned stangeness is just ronan, the part of him that feels orphaned, full of childlish wonder but also so much terror. that bryde — a dreamt teacher — is just a part of ronan that ronan can’t admit he has access to. that everytime ronan dreams of his dad or adam or declan, it’s really just ronan and ronan and ronan.

it feels like haunting your own life.

in the dream world, ronan cannot escape ronan — every version of himself, weather past, present, or future is meeting and existing and coming into the waking world all at once. in a way it’s a living record of ronan’s life, subconscious, & past selves.

[oneluckydragon]

"Suddenly the world was gray and dull and my heart was so heavy I felt like I couldn’t move, let alone make it back to Treasure Town. But because of Echo’s last wish… I was able to keep living.”

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

SORA : (Partner)

Abilities: Justified / Inner Focus

Nature: Gentle / Hardy

Moveset: Aura Sphere / Metal Claw / Poison Jab / Dragon Pulse

[scattered-winter]

there's something sooooooo heartbreaking about quests as a narrative piece. you set out on this journey to rescue someone or defeat a great evil and along the way you face hardship and horror and you grieve and fight and love and lose and then when it's all over you come home. everything is the same as when you left, but you're so irrevocably different that you no longer fit in the one place you used to be truly at peace. you're tired from your journey but you find no rest or recovery, only ghosts. and you almost wish for another quest, another dangerous mission, because at least then you know your purpose.

[martyrbat]

ghosts - batman: haunted knight

[ID: A multi panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as a child on Halloween. He's dressed up in a Mask of Zorro costume and is excitedly running down the stairs while holding two swords, calling out for his mother happily. He tells her that he's ready to go trick or treating. Martha Wayne has her hand on his shoulder and is smiling as she tells him, “your costume looks great!” Bruce replies, “Thanks, I made it myself. Alfred sorta helped. Is dad home yet?” Martha draws her hand back hesitantly and says his name. Bruce already knows that that means there's bad news. He tells her, “don't tell me,” before she continues and says his father called. Bruce has his head down, angrily finishing her sentence, “he's gotta work late!” He looks out the window as if his father will appear and says, “It's not fair! He promised he would take me trick or treating!” Martha soothes that she knows as Bruce repeats, “he promised,” to himself disappointedly. She tells him, “But there was an emergency,” which makes Bruce snap, “There's always some emergency!”

Bruce continues to stand in front of the window as Martha looks at him. Bruce announces, “I'm gonna wait for him. Even if it takes all night!” as he tensely clenches the handle of his sword. Martha reaches out for him sadly and suggests, “Bruce, I could take you out myself. Or, we can call some of the other children at school and go out with them.” Bruce, as an adult, somberly says off panel that, “she doesn't know...” as his kid self stares out the window still. His hat casting a small shadow on his face as he tells her, “There are no other kids to call. I have no friends at school.” Martha says his name again but doesn't know how to comfort him. Instead, she just silently places a hand on his shoulder. We see a silhouette from far away of her standing next to him as Bruce waits for his father to eventually come home. END ID]