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ladyfogg · 8 months

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Perfect Fit

Fic Summary: Since the first time you let him bite you, Astarion knew seducing you would be easy. What he didn’t anticipate were the feelings that came with it.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Drow!Monk Reader

Word Count: 11.7k

Warnings: Biting, Blood Drinking (Vampire and all that), Male Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Oral (Female Receiving), Sex, Grinding, Cuddling

A/N: I’m really glad I took my time with this one because I absolutely love how it came out. Enjoy! I don’t know if I’ll write any other Astarion fics but we’ll see.

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Just a taste, that is all he needs.

Boars and wildlife will not suffice, not if your little troop of weirdos keeps going at the same grueling pace. Since the moment he had been snatched up and that damn tadpole shoved into his eye it has been one battle after another.

The diet Cazador forced him onto had already weakened him. And Astarion knew that if he did not do something soon, if he couldn’t keep up with the others, you will turn your back on him.

After all, why keep him around if he isn’t useful?

No, he needs to stay in your good graces. More than that, he needs you to trust him, to care for him. It’s the only way he can ensure that when his former master comes knocking, because Astarion is not naïve enough to assume he is completely free, you will be there shielding him, to knock back.

Which you are obviously capable of doing. He’s seen you fight enough times to know you have a quick temper and an even quicker right hook.

You are the defacto leader, the one who always seems to do the talking even though you’re not the most charismatic of the bunch. Yet, when you open your mouth, the others listen, take your word as law even when they don’t agree.

Astarion finds himself falling in line along with them. Then again, he has two hundred years of conditioning to contend with. He wonders what excuse the others have.

Regardless, the plan remains the same. Seduce you, get you on his side, save his spectacular, frankly tight, ass. Simple. He’s played this part more times than he can count and can do it in his trance.

Of course, none of that matters if he starves to death. The gnawing hunger deep in his belly is distracting and has been for days. He’s used to ignoring it, even in the thick of combat. But he can’t, not tonight.

Tonight, it’s bad enough to get in the way of hunting. He can’t keep up with a lame doe he stumbles across. It bolts before he is even close enough to lunge. Not good. He returns to his tent frustrated and desperate.

Red eyes scan the still camp, predatory and sharp. He told you all he would keep watch because he needed time and space to think, which is partially true. However, that was when he hoped to catch dinner.

How in the Hells can he bloody think when he’s starving?

There’s a rustling near the fire, immediately drawing his attention. His gaze falls on you while you shift, your back to him as your body rolls towards the warmth of the campfire. A breeze glides through their encampment, bringing your tantalizing scent towards him, beckoning, teasing.

Astarion takes a deep inhale, eyes closed as he unwittingly gives into his instincts. Hunting pushes them away. But with no wildlife to sate him, his feet move on their own, dragging him closer to your prone body. When he opens his eyes, his vision blocks out everything that isn’t you.

The hunger is all that matters and right now, the hunter has finally found his prey.

His steps make no noise as practice and skill take over. He’s close enough to see the subtle rise and fall of your breath, the dim firelight framing you with its eerie glow, leading him like a beacon in the never-ending dark.

Astarion takes a knee, arms out for balance and eyes closed as he moves purely on instinct. He opens his mouth, fangs dripping with saliva at the promise of a meal, a real meal…

A second later he feels you move and his eyes snap open, only to find yours staring up at him. Cold realization slams into him like a heavy maul, making him blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Shit.”

Immediately, he backs away as you quickly rise to your feet, eyes narrowed in distrust. You don’t even have a chance to speak before he launches into an explanation, trying to keep his voice hushed to avoid waking the others.

“No, no, it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he insists. “I wasn’t going to hurt you I…” He pauses, taking a breath to ground himself. The bloodlust isn’t satiated, not by a long shot but it is tempered by a furious-looking monk. “I just needed…well…blood.”

It sounds lame even to his own ears. Not his best work but, then again, he isn’t at his best.

You swear, burying your face in your hands. “Fucking unbelievable!” you exclaim in a harsh whisper. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it! We even found the boar you snacked on. And you were so quick to brush it away.”

“It’s not what you think!”

Astarion’s voice goes up and you motion for him to be quiet. A quick glance confirms the others are still fast asleep.

The next thing he knows, you’re grabbing his sleeve and tugging him away from the fire, away from the others, which is not at all what he's anticipating. He doesn’t even have a chance to register you’re touching until your hand is already gone, leaving a phantom of its warmth.

“I’m not some monster,” he persuades. “I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds, whatever I can get. I’m…I’m just too slow right now. Too weak.” He pauses, the hunger taking hold once more. “If I just had a little blood, I could fight better. Please.”

There’s a sharp pain between his eyes, the familiar trigger of the tadpole lodged in his brain. He recognizes the sensation, knows it’s you reaching out, asking, and after a moment of hesitation, he lets you in.

Unlike your companions, you’ve embraced the new connection, used it to convince others to move out of your way or do as you say. Not within the group of course. He suspects you’re too noble for that.

Astarion hasn’t had much time to practice himself. No time like the present. He needs you to see, needs you to understand that what he says is true.

The trust he is trying to build is at stake, no pun intended. You need to see that this is an anomaly, an unfortunate side effect of the intense fighting you both had to endure the last few days.

So Astarion shows you, lets you see fleeting images of what he’s hunted in the woods. But this is all still new. He does not know how it works, does not anticipate the flood of other memories, personal ones he isn’t ready to share.

A dark street, a willing mark, a soft supple body for Cazador’s dark needs. They flicker one after another, a blur of faceless victims he’s lost count of. Yet, none of them with his fangs at their throat or their blood on his lips. It becomes too much too fast.

He gathers his strength and throws up those mental blocks, the ones he’s had for decades yet seem to be crumbling in an instant. With a mental shove, he pushes you out.

While Astarion's body reels from the onslaught, you remain stoic, arms crossed as you stare at him with that intense gaze of yours. The only indication anything is amiss is a head tilt.

How? How are you already so used to these damn tadpoles? You don’t even blink, and with the shadows of the night wrapped around the both of you, he can’t read your expression even with Darkvision. But he can assume and right now, he’s sure he’s fucked up. All he needed was you to trust him and because of this insistent hunger, he’s failed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is not the question he expects and he blinks, taken aback. You don’t sound angry, hells it would be easier if you were. Anger he’s used to, can handle with poise. But Astarion thinks he can work with this, whatever it is.

Because it’s not pity, it’s not empathy, it’s something he does not have a name for.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no, more likely you’ll run a stake through my ribs,” he explains. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

Of course you can’t. Anyone who ever put their trust in him came to bloody ends. Yet, he’s seen you drop a gnoll with nothing but your fists and an insane high kick, so he feels you may be sturdier than most.

You study him closely, and Astarion does everything to appear docile and properly chastised, hunching his body to make himself smaller. There’s a beat where neither of you blink or speak. However, he catches the subtle slump of your shoulders and a sigh escapes your lips.

“I believe you,” you say. “And I do trust you.”

Astarion slowly exhales his own sigh, this one of relief. “Thank you,” he says.

Then, because he can’t help himself, because his empty stomach twists, because you’re still close enough for him to inhale your scent, he pushes his luck.

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he asks, a hopeful lilt to his voice as he bats his eyelashes at you. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

He fully expects your refusal and wouldn’t blame you in the slightest. As much as this hunger is driving him to madness, he is fully prepared to slink away with his tail tucked between his legs if it means he lives to seduce you another day.

Yet the next words out of your mouth throw him off his game.

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need.”

There’s no hiding the surprise on his face. He knows you see it yet you don’t gloat or react, only smile.

“Really? I—” He clears his throat and recovers, swagger in place as comfortable as a well-worn mask molded just for him. “Of course, not one drop more. Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions towards your bedroll with a bow. As you brush past and turn towards the fire, your smirk is wider, as if you can tell how much excitement is building within him. Then again, with the tadpole and your uncanny ability to read people, you probably do.

The others are still silent and sleeping as you lay back on your bedroll. Astarion’s chest heaves and he licks his lips as the prospect of blood, humanoid blood, becomes all he can focus on. He’s salivating again, red eyes drawn to the smooth expanse of your neck.

At first, all he can hear is the crackling of the fire. But when he leans in, the steady beating of your heart breaks through the noises of the night. Bloody Hells, he can hear the blood rushing through your veins. It hypnotizes him, draws him forward as you roll your head to the side.

White fangs pierce dark skin, sliding clean through to find a thick, pulsing vein. Underneath the rush, he almost misses the soft gasp push past your lips.

Almost.

But he doesn’t have time to process it because the first drops of blood touch his tongue and nothing else matters. Not mind flayers, not tadpoles, not Cazador, nothing but the sweet, red liquid that is sliding down his throat carrying your scent.

Everything else before pales in comparison.

There’s no fear. When he hunts he can taste the deep fear of his prey in their final moments. But this is different. You are different.

It’s such an onslaught of emotions he can’t process them right away. It’s secondhand, like trying to grab a rapidly fading echo in a dark cave.

Astarion doesn’t anticipate it and can’t recognize half of them at first. Sensation is what he does recognize. Pain is immediate, followed by warmth leading into heat in his cheeks and stomach. So much heat. He’s been cold for two hundred years, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have body heat, to be hot.

His body naturally curls around yours, one hand sliding under your head to cradle it close. The fingers of his other hand dig into the packed soil, gripping for something solid yet finding nothing.

Your body arches into his, breasts pressed to his chest and for the briefest moment, he imagines how better this would be if he could feel your bare skin to his.

Then another splatter of blood hits the back of his throat as your heart rate increases and the thought is lost.

Instinct wins out once more and Astarion groans, sucking at the wound with renewed fervor. This is better than he could have imagined. You’re better. All robust and tantalizingly smooth, finer than the finest wine he’s ever sampled. He licks at your skin, gathering as much of the precious liquid as he can. He knows it’s supposed to be a taste, but he needs more. Wants more…

A hand on his shoulder draws him out of his stupor and a firm shove has him breaking free with an orgasmic gasp. Life now drums through his veins, yours and his comingling into a surge of energy that has his dead heart thrumming harder than he ever remembers.

“Enough,” you say, your voice gruff and small, though still commanding. He thinks for a moment you might have actually cast Command on him, until his addled brain remembers you don’t use magic.

Astarion pulls himself together, comes back into his body in a way that’s far more pleasant than it has been in the past. He’s sure he’s made a mess but when he looks down, all he sees are two small puncture wounds with the barest hint of blood. Small specks of his spit glint in the firelight.

He resists the urge to kiss them away, instead stumbling back onto his haunches to give you space.

You slowly sit up and he catches you wincing. It’s the brief flash of pain that helps him reign himself further in. You said you trusted him, let him drink from you, he will not, could not, betray that trust, the gift you’ve given him.

“Of course,” he says, voice breathless as he tries to remember how to speak. “That was amazing.” He smiles wide, feels a droplet of blood slip away from the corner of his lips as he does. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong, I feel…” The faintest hint of emotions still lingers. “…happy.”

You both sit quietly for a moment, air thick with tension and a hint of copper. Your scent is even stronger now and Astarion thinks he could track you from miles away if need be.

“I look forward to seeing you fight.”

Right, the whole reason you did this. To help him be stronger, useful. It’s those thoughts that ground him once more, snap his head out of the clouds and onto the hard forest floor.

Astarion stands while you remain right where you are, watching every move he makes. He wonders if you are waiting for him to pounce, waiting for the monster he assured you does not exist. When he speaks again, it’s the light, easy tone he’s perfected, like sliding the mask back into place.

“Shouldn’t take long so many people need killing,” he says, flippantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating but I need something more filling.”

Nothing will escape him now. He swears he can take down a bear should he be lucky enough to find one.

He turns to leave, yet something stops him from taking the next step. When he glances at you over his shoulder, for a moment, the mask slips and he allows you to see the genuine gratitude he feels.

“This is a gift, you know,” he tells you. “I won't forget it.”

Not staying for a response, he turns away and stalks toward the darkness of the waiting forest. When he’s sure you can’t see him, he swipes that drop off his chin with his thumb, sucking it into his mouth to enjoy the final taste of your essence.

He is content for this to be a one-time thing, a special circumstance he is lucky enough to experience. And though he already longs for more, he enjoys the heat while he can, letting it carry him through the night as he hunts his next prey.

So imagine his surprise when you approach his tent only two days later, wounds barely visible under your collar. Astarion is readying his weapons, preparing for yet another trek through the wilds.

You’re in your vestiges, your arms free say for the thin bracers protecting your wrists. Your stance is sure and confident, eyes alight with something he hasn’t seen in them yet.

“We’re ready to head out,” you say. “Got everything?”

“Prepared and ready for the inevitable descent into violence.”

“How are you feeling?”

For anyone else the question wouldn’t be so loaded. He gathers you’re probably wondering if he’s going to try to steal another bite at some point.

“Fit as a fiddle. Your donation was much appreciated and helpful,” he says, sliding his daggers into their scabbards. “The effects are mostly worn off but such is life. I’m not weak if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not. But, if you need to, you can feed on me tonight.”

Astarion can barely contain himself, thrilled at the prospect of another surge of power, and that his seduction skills are working, though not entirely as he expected. Still, it’s an opportunity he will not squander.

“My sweet, there’s nothing I’d like more,” he purrs, stepping in close. He catches the darkening of your cheeks and lets himself smile in triumph. “I’ll come to you tonight, when you’re snuggly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy. And this time,” he drops his voice for added effect, “I’ll make sure I’m quiet. We don’t want to disturb your rest.”

It's not lost on him that the night after his first taste you took to sleeping in a tent rather than under the stars. The added privacy had him wondering about its purpose.

Now he knows.

Taking another step closer, he drops his voice even lower, keeping the moment between you two. “Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up,” he promises. “Just enough to give me strength and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Your breath catches in your throat and he knows right then that he has you. Even as you smirk and roll your eyes, his pleased smile never falters.

“Great line,” you say, walking backward towards Karlach and Shadowheart, who are waiting for the two of you. “Has that ever worked for you?”

“Numerous times. And trust me, you haven’t heard half my lines.”

“Is that what you do in front of the mirror now that you can’t fawn over yourself?”

“Hurtful!” he gasps in mock outrage. “Also, need I remind you, you came to me just now.”

“And you came to me the other night.”

“Fair point,” he begrudgingly admits, slinging his bow onto his back. “Although, I did ask for just a taste. If you’re wanting another nibble, that says more about you than it does about me. I’m a vampire spawn. What’s your excuse?”

By you’ve turned your back on him and though he can’t see your face, the middle finger you aim his way lets him know he’s won the argument.

The anticipation of his next feeding carries him through the day.

It’s ever-present in the back of his mind, fueling his hunger and drive. He fights harder because he knows that come nightfall, he won’t have to hunt for his meal. You’ll be there in your bedroll, ready and willing.

Astarion can’t suppress the shudder of longing every time he thinks about it.

Waiting never felt so long.

You’re moving closer to the goblin camp with every step, picking off stragglers as you find them. Shadowheart asks the corpses for information and you’re able to narrow down the location of the druid right down to which building he's in.

When you make camp, you’re only half a day’s travel to your destination. Everyone is exhausted and moody, with little talk this time over the campfire. It doesn’t bother Astarion, who felt you all were becoming far too chummy for his liking.

He waits and watches from his tent, taking note as one by one, the others peel off to their respective spaces. You’re one of the last, your eyes straying across the camp in his direction, meeting the gaze that has been transfixed on you the entire time.

As if to tease, your scent finds your way to him on the wind, making his head spin. He gives you a wink and a smirk. You smile back and quirk an eyebrow before disappearing into your tent like the others.

Astarion bides his time, waits until everyone stops rustling and the collective silence of sleep washes over the camp.

Wyll is on watch tonight, though his back is to your tent. Astarion keeps to the shadows and easily dodges him, making no sound as he slips past.

You’re fast asleep, buried in your bedroll with a blanket loosely draped over you.

Astarion feels that familiar tug low in his belly, lets his feet guide him closer. He doesn’t need the fire to see you there, peaceful, almost angelic. You changed into a looser tunic which has slid down to reveal a shoulder.

And the faded markings he left on your throat the other night.

Astarion kneels and then crawls up behind you, slow and careful. He said he wouldn’t disturb your rest and he meant it. No need to wake you when you’ve given your consent.

Besides, as sneaky as he is, Astarion wonders if you’re that light of a sleeper, considering how easily you awoke the last time. He lays behind you, gently peeling the blanket away. Your tunic slips lower when he does and at this angle, he catches just the faintest glimpse of the top of a breast.

It makes him pause, give an appreciative glance, before your neck beckons him.

The hunger urges him forward, begging, pleading with him to drink. You’re so close and warm and vulnerable. He does his best to lean over without touching you, but you automatically tense in your sleep when you feel the coolness of his body draw near.

Leaning down, he lets his lips brush your ear as he whispers, “It’s just me, darling. Go back to sleep.”

You hum and relax once more, dropping your shoulder in the process. The angle is too good and he is too famished to wait any longer.

Astarion bites down, his fangs lining up exactly where they pierced before. His mouth fits against your throat like it was made for him.

A perfect fit.

There’s no need to rush and he is able to savor the experience. This time, a sense of calm washes over him, making his eyes droop closed as the now-familiar yet no less exquisite rush of your blood fills his mouth. Deep down there’s a sense of injustice for being denied this experience for so long.

However, he wonders if it would have been the same without the anticipation and thrill of the chase. Without you in the equation. After all, you’re a powerful person, unyielding in your convictions.

Yet, here you are, offering your blood to him. Giving him power.

He keeps his fangs buried for a moment longer, holds himself there until his mouth is brimming with the taste of you.

Only then does he retract them, sucking softly on the reopened wound to drink his fill. You’re fast asleep, which means that he has to stop himself this time. You’re not aware enough to do it for him.

When he wanted to earn your trust, he did not think you would give it to him so freely. What else will you give him? What else can he get away with? Questions for another night.

Thankfully, he can force himself to stop once that welcoming heat spreads through every part of him.

Every part.

Fucking Hells he is hard as a rock.

It catches Astarion by surprise and he immediately draws away. He finds himself panting, his lips still coated in red as he glances down at himself.

Is it the act of drinking blood or the blood itself? Feeding on animals certainly never drew this reaction.

His head is spinning from bloodlust and arousal, and he feels the need to leave your tent as soon as possible. You signed up to be his meal, not to get him off.

Not yet anyway. Shame, if you were awake he could make his move. He briefly considers rousing you with honeyed words and lustful promises but he decides against it in the end.

Maybe next time.

As he cleans up the mess he’s left on your throat, licking away the remaining drops of blood, he can’t help palming himself at the same time. He’s barely able to contain a hiss at the sensitivity.

Fuck, if this is just from feeding on you, what’s going to happen when he gets to have you another way?

Astarion reluctantly withdraws, readjusting your tunic before draping your blanket back in place. Your breathing never hitches and remains steady, even when he slips out into the night.

With fresh blood pumping through his veins, his body is strong and alive. He feels so fucking alive. He barely takes a few steps before the hardness in his trousers proves too distracting, forcing him to rest against a tree.

If he turns his head, he can still see your tent through the bushes and trees. It surprises him that he wants to go back. Then again, you are the most interesting prospect around and a part of you is within him now.

Soon, a part of him will be in you, he promises himself.

Astarion unties the laces of his trousers and pulls his cock out, finally allowing the hiss he held back earlier. It throbs persistently, begging for him to do something, anything for release. He gives himself an experimental squeeze, wondering if he has the mind for this right now. But it’s too good and he’s too worked up to deny himself.

His eyes never leave your tent as he strokes his cock. Slow at first, but that quickly proves not enough and he speeds up.

Astarion has had too many lovers to count but it has been some time since he’s had to take matters into his own hands. And yes, he plans on seducing you and may even find you attractive, but this is not in the plan.

It certainly didn’t happen the other night.

Moving purely on urges, Astarion lets his head fall back against the tree trunk, and his eyes close, picturing himself back in your tent.

If only you’d been awake, he could have pressed against you, let you feel the length of him as he drank his fill.

Would you grind back? Would you gasp? He’s more than sure that he can get you to do both. When he finally gets you where he wants you, when he finally has you writhing and moaning his name, he's not going to let you cum until you beg for it, beg for him to fill you as he drinks from that delicious throat.

With a strangled moan, he cums onto the forest floor, his knees buckling under the sudden onslaught of sensation.

Putting his full weight against the tree for support, he takes a moment to catch his breath mind, and senses hyper-aware of every rustle of leaves and gust of wind. With his lust now stated, there is an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt.

What the Hells is with all this wanting and desire? He is not allowed to want. Seducing you isn’t about desire. Neither of those emotions should be there and yet they are.

Let’s just push those way back where they belong, he thinks as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

His head is clearer now, his focus as sharp as it was the previous night. Brushing the incident off, Astarion switches into hunting mode, his grin wide enough to verge on the side of madness as he bolts into the forest, with nothing but the thought of his next kill.

Your offer of blood becomes a regular occurrence.

Not every day but often enough for Astarion to notice a significant change in himself, his power. He is faster and stronger than he has ever been. There is still the situation of becoming immensely horny when he does feed on you, but he looks on the bright side and accepts it as an unexpected bonus.

On days when your party runs into a fight, he finds himself drained but not enough to impede his hunting.

A fact he brags about one night when he stumbles back to camp, brimming with excitement and pride.

“Guess what I just did!” he exclaims, plopping beside you on the ground by the fire that seems to have your attention.

It’s your night to keep watch which means he is out of luck for his midnight snack, as he’s taken to calling you. Much to your chagrin.

You chuckle and motion towards his mouth. “Judging by the blood I’m assuming you caught a nice dinner,” you say.

Astarion impatiently wipes it away. “Not just dinner, a bear! A whole bear!”

“Gods, you drank a whole bear?”

He nods proudly, grin wide and sloppy. “Now, it wasn’t as good a vintage as Drow,” he concedes with a wink your way. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I was able to kill it all by my lonesome and nary a curl out of place.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Kind of,” he slurs.

In truth, he is euphoric, untouchable. Between proper feedings and the tadpole, Astarion feels he is the strongest vampire spawn there may have ever been. Tonight, like the first night he bit you, there is no Cazador, mind flayer, or other threat. There’s only him and the blood of the black bear that he’s taken for himself.

And you, of course.

You smile in amusement, turning your attention to the fire.

Astarion leans back on his elbows, his body wonderfully loose and relaxed for the first time in decades. He takes the time to study your profile, his delirious mind focusing for the moment. He is acutely aware that it is only the two of you, a rarity considering the size of the camp.

Between the adrenaline of the hunt and the opportunity that comes with privacy, Astarion shifts closer, not enough to touch but enough for you to know he’s done so.

“You know, darling,” he drawls. “I don’t think I’ve told you how devastatingly beautiful you look by firelight.”

You don’t respond and at first, he wonders if you heard him. When it becomes apparent you haven’t, he clears his throat and tries again.

“The way the flames reflect in your eyes is hypnotizing,” he continues. “I can get lost in them, have been lost in them ever since we met.”

Still nothing. Astarion feels you’re miles away, which his pride will not stand for, not when he feels as good as he does and is throwing you all the signals.

He sits up and waves a hand in front of your face. “Helllooo? Devilishly handsome roguish vampire here giving you compliments. The least you can do is acknowledge me.”

You blink and tear your eyes away from the flames, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ignore you. I’m not very good company tonight, I’m afraid.”

Astarion shrugs and sits up, interest piqued. “That’s alright, darling. We don’t need to talk. There are plenty of other ways we can enjoy each other’s company.”

You roll your eyes as you look back at the fire with that amused smile you seem to reserve only for him. “Hey, if I could turn my brain off for the night, I’d take you up on that,” you admit.

Finally feeling like he’s getting somewhere, Astarion leans in closer. “You’re in luck because I happen to be a delectable distraction. All you have to do is say the word.” He pauses before adding. “I’m talking about sex of course. We should have sex.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what you meant.”

Astarion grins, reaching out to walk his fingers up your forearm, playfully tugging at the sleeve of your tunic. “So what are we waiting for?” he purrs. “A midnight snack is all well and good, but I wouldn’t mind sampling what else you have to offer.”

As full as he is, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in another nibble. There’s something special about your blood, enticing. When he’s this close to you it becomes all he can think about and he has to stop himself from nuzzling your throat. At least until he knows he has you.

“I want to,” you tell him, finally meeting his gaze. “I really really want to.”

“Then what’s the problem? I am ready, willing, and certainly able.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

Astarion frowns, confused. This has always worked before, there’s no reason for it not to work now. He doesn’t get it. You’re clearly attracted to him and he’s doing everything but presenting himself on a silver platter. By now you should be throwing yourself at his feet.

And there’s no way he’s lost his touch because that would be like saying the sky is no longer blue.

You take a deep breath and when you start to speak again, it comes out in a rush, like you’ve been holding the words in for far too long and can’t any longer.

“There is so much at stake and so many people are depending on us, on me. It’s all I think about. I can’t focus on anything else. For days it’s been one crisis after another. On top of that, everyone keeps saying that we need to get rid of the tadpoles and that we should have turned already. We rescued Halsin but he can’t do what we hoped he would and I’m just…”

You let out a noise of frustration and Astarion is back to grinning because this he can work with. This he understands.

“Aren’t monks taught to still their minds?” he teases.

“I didn’t become a monk to still my mind. I became a monk because I like punching things. It’s honestly my favorite thing to do.” You take a deep breath before falling onto your back to stare up at the stars. “But now everyone keeps looking to me for answers and I just don’t have them. Nor do I want to be the one to figure all this shit out.”

Perfect, a new angle.

Astarion leans over you, forcing you to look him in the eye. “It’s just as I feared. You need me more than I thought.” He bends his head, delighted when you instinctively present your neck. He places the gentlest of kisses to bite mark, nuzzling into your soft skin like he’s been wanting to do since he sat down. “If you need your mind on something else, let it be me. Let me touch you, taste you. Let me bring you to such unbearable peaks that you forget everything that isn’t my mouth, fingers, or cock.”

You moan softly, shuddering at the warmth of his breath. “I don’t know if you can.”

Astarion draws back, a wide smile showing off his sharp canines. “Trust me, darling, I can.” He slides a hand up to cradle your head just like he did the first night he bit you. But it’s kisses he lavishes your throat with, with the occasional scrape of his teeth.

A gentle hand on his shoulder has him pulling away.

“You seem pretty confident about that,” you say, eyes searching his.

“Because it’s true.”

He knows what you’re searching for and does everything he can to make sure his gaze speaks for him. Lust and desire, mixed with a touch of hopefulness. Disarming and endearing, exactly who he needs to be for you.

“Here is what we’re going to do,” he continues, putting all his weight on one hand so he can use the other to take yours. “Tomorrow night, once everyone is asleep, I’ll slip into your tent, and I will make it so that pretty little head of yours can focus on something else. Something much more pleasurable.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss, first to your fingers, then your bruised knuckles, and finally to your inner wrist where he can feel your pulse racing. The sound of your rushing blood makes his own body thrum with desire. His hunger returns, but not enough to distract him.

But enough to make him twitch with anticipation.

At this angle, he knows you can feel it when his cock hardens. Your eyes widen and you bite your lip to stifle another moan when he teasingly grinds down against you.

“I…” You try to speak but need to take a second to catch your breath. “I would like that very much.”

“Good.”

Astarion leans down and captures your lips in a harsh kiss. It’s meant to be quick, a tease, a way to continue the seduction and leave you wanting more but it immediately becomes something else. You match his energy perfectly, your tongue slipping past his to explore. He isn’t expecting such a hungry response after the way you seemed so controlled, fully expecting it to take time for him to get you to this level.

Apparently, you’re closer to the edge than he thought. But it’s more than that. Kissing you makes him feel…something. He just doesn’t know what in the Hells that is. It makes it difficult to pull away, to stop, and make you wait.

So he indulges, deepens the kiss by leisurely licking the inside of your mouth once you actually let him. It’s good, really good. Enough to lose himself for the moment, to cup your cheek and hold you close.

His head is spinning and in his excitement, one of his fangs nicks your bottom lip.

A drop of your blood is enough to snap him out of it. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to ruin everything. He’ll either fuck or drain you and right now he’s not sure which.

Astarion abruptly breaks the kiss, not before his tongue at your lip to steal another drop. “Until tomorrow night,” he promises.

He leaves you there, dazed and staring after him as he casually strolls back to his tent. Leaving you wanting more, just like he planned.

And definitely not because of any other reason.

Needless to say, trancing doesn’t come easy that night. Every time he closes his eyes, all he envisions is you in the firelight, looking up at him like he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Granted, he knows he is, but that’s beside the point.

If he’s honest with himself, there may be a small, tiny part of him that feels bad for deceiving you this way. Granted, he is attracted to you and the idea of having sex sounds incredibly appealing.

So what if there is another motive? You both will come out on top in the end, metaphorically speaking. Although, the mental image of you riding him is quite good. Body rocking, breasts bouncing, wet heat enveloping his lap…

Astarion needs a distraction himself at this rate.

The next day he maintains his distance for both your sakes. For one thing, he knows being apart from your object of desire only makes the chase that more thrilling. And for another, he is dealing with a storm of emotions he is not prepared for nor interested in.

On occasion when he can’t help but slide his gaze your way, you seem thoroughly focused every time. He doesn’t catch you looking longingly his way, not even once, and finds it frankly insulting. How can you be so engrossed in what you’re doing even though you know he will be in your bed later?

Unacceptable.

When you both find yourselves set upon by cultists, Astarion is relieved. He needs a good bloodbath to pull his shit together.

His daggers get quite the workout, slicing enemies left and right.

Lost in the thrill of the kill, he forgets about the weird feelings and the way his seduction of you seems to be more complicated than he thought it would be. He forgets about his hesitations or questions.

Nothing is weird and nothing is wrong.

A familiar scent breaks through the gore that stops him in his tracks. Your scent. Your blood.

You’re bleeding.

Like a hound, his head whips in your direction. He sees you across the battlefield, knocking a man to the ground. But one hand is pressed to your side, bright red visible even at this distance.

Shit, you’re further from him than he realizes and he has to scramble over a few boulders to be able to close the distance. His sharp eyes catch movement in the trees, and before he even has a chance to grab his bow, the hidden archer takes aim.

Everything happens so fast.

The arrow fires, Astarion eyes land on you, knows you don’t see it and as he raises his hand towards you, has your name on his lips—

Your hand snaps up, catching the arrow an inch before it hits your temple. With a glare, you look up at the archer, swing around, and throw the arrow right back at him.

Astarion watches the archer fall from the branches, landing in a heap on the ground.

Dead.

You grin in Astarion’s direction, face smattered with blood and he wants nothing more than to fuck you on top of that corpse. But then you stumble and concern takes over. If you fall in battle then he’s shit out of luck and he can’t let that happen.

“Whoa now, none of that!” he scolds, rushing to your side to catch you. “Where the Hells is that cleric when we need her?”

“Did you see me catch that arrow?” you slur, grinning. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Yes, yes, it was very hot, now hold still, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Even better, gives you a free meal.”

It’s Astarion’s turn to roll his eyes as he helps you lean against a tree for support. “I prefer the more intimate approach we’ve established.”

Once he’s sure you’re not going to collapse, he digs through his pack for a healing potion.

“Shame to let all this blood go to waste but to each his own,” you say.

He uncorks the potion with his teeth and holds the bottle up for you to drink. It’s not until it’s empty that he allows himself to calm down. You slowly remove your hand and the two of you watch the wound start to close. Not all the way, you’ll need Shadowheart for that, but enough to stop the bleeding.

Astarion spits the cork aside and throws the empty bottle. “There, almost good as new. Maybe don’t get stabbed again.”

“There go the rest of my plans for the day.”

“Lunatic.”

Something comes over him, making him grab the back of your head and yank you into a kiss, too wrapped up in his bullshit to overthink or consider his actions. With one arm around his waist, you kiss him back and it’s sloppy and messy and everything he needs it to be.

Nothing happened. You didn’t die and you’re still able to be seduced. Good.

When you draw back, gasping for breath, he grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly sucks your fingers into his mouth, one by one, swirling his tongue around the digits to gather every drop of blood he can. You’re right. It seems silly to let it go to waste.

Your pupils dilate, your breath coming through your lips in a rush as you watch, transfixed.

He doesn’t need the tadpole to know what you’re thinking, or imagining. It’s a precursor to what he plans to do to you later. But with your thighs squeezing his head as he brings you over the edge.

Astarion releases your finger with a pop and a smirk. You lean in to steal another kiss when you’re stopped by the heavy thud of Karlach’s footsteps. You just manage to pull back when she bursts through the foliage.

“You guys alright?” she asks, also splattered with blood. “We just got jumped by some assholes.”

Astarion gestures to the bodies littered at your feet. “Welcome to the fucking club.”

“Where’s Shadowheart?” you ask.

“Right here,” Shadowheart speaks up, approaching from a different direction. “One tried to run away but I took care of it. Shit, are you bleeding?”

“Not anymore, thanks to me,” Astarion says.

When you wince and stumble towards her, Shadowheart catches you. Her hand glows with radiant light as she casts a healing spell.

“Easy there, soldier!” Karlach says. “You stay put. We’ll deal with these.” She gestures to the bodies, where Astarion is already digging through the pockets.

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to let good gold go to waste, and definitely not because you two were interrupted. Not because being close and alone with you makes his head spin. Not because he doesn’t know why he kissed you like that. And certainly not because the brief taste of blood is threatening to send him into a frenzy.

By the time the bodies are searched, Shadowheart is done with her healing and you’re able to stand up straight.

“Let’s get back and tell the others,” you say. “With these guys gone, we should be good to keep our camp for one more night. But tomorrow we have to move on.”

Astarion is starting to feel peckish and welcomes the chance to be alone. “I’ll do a little scouting to check for stragglers,” he offers, tossing you the heavy bag of coin he collected. “You know, make sure there isn’t anything lurking before dark.”

“You sure? You really shouldn’t go alone,” you say.

He’s already headed in the opposite direction and turns to face you as he walks backward. “If they hear me, they deserve to catch me. You don’t need to worry, darling. I won’t be late for our date.”

Your cheeks darken and he watches Karlach break into a wide grin while Shadowheart raises her eyebrows. He’s already gone by the time they bombard you with questions.

That moment you two just shared plays over and over in his head. With the taste of your blood still on his tongue, he gives into baser instincts.

Tonight, he will fuck you, and you’ll be so enthralled by his talents, he’ll have you eating out of his hand in no time.

Astarion’s mission turns up no more cultists. And after a brief tussle with a boar, he’s recharged and ready to seduce the pants off you.

Literally.

Night has already begun to fall when he returns to camp. At first, he doesn’t see you anywhere, but then you emerge from the brush, in a clean tunic and trousers with your freshly washed clothes under your arm.

He sneaks up behind you as you lay them out on a nearby patch of grass to dry.

“If you waited we could have had a little dip together,” he purrs, only half teasing because bathing naked with you sounds enticing right now.

“That wasn’t funny,” you glare over your shoulder, although he doesn’t sense or see any real malice on your face. “They gave me shit the whole way back.”

“I’m fairly certain they knew something has been going on. You haven’t exactly been hiding the mark.”

You tug on your collar in a vain attempt to do just that. “Still.” You turn to face him and cross your arms, a neutral stance that conveniently highlights the muscles in your arms. Not that he notices.

“Darling,” he gasps, “are you ashamed of me?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like people knowing my shit.”

Astarion glances around and can see multiple pairs of eyes on you both. So rather than close the distance, he settles for eye-fucking you instead.

“Tonight, all you need to worry about is relaxing and letting me take care of you. Thoroughly. Properly. Until the only thought in that pretty little head of yours is my name.”

Even from this distance, he hears the rush of your blood and it makes him grin wider. You shake said pretty head at him, turning away under the pretense of fixing your clothes.

“So long as you bathe beforehand. Blood may be your thing, but it’s not mine.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

He’s got you flustered and can’t help laughing as you shoo him away. After a brief stop at his tent for fresh clothes and soap, he finds a secluded spot by the nearby lake and takes time to pamper himself.

This part of the seduction ritual he likes, finds comfort in. Washing away the grime and viscera from his skin and taking the time to wash his hair puts him in the proper mindset. While he can no longer see his reflection, you can and that’s all that matters. He knows his looks are unparalleled.

So he primps and preens, cleans himself thoroughly before stepping out to dry off. The full moon casts the world in an otherworldly glow and he stands for a spell, taking in the night. Less than a week ago he was scrambling for rats in the dark, trying to sate the ever gnawing hunger. Now he can stand in the sun, sample the delicious blood of a thinking creature.

What a difference a few days makes.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep inhale to steady himself, to focus. And by the time he exhales, his eyes are open and he’s ready.

Camp is still very much buzzing with activity when he returns, bare-chested with loose trousers. Your scent wafts his way, making him subconsciously turn in your direction. His eyes meet yours over the fire, and he throws you a wink. You smile and duck your head, something he never found endearing until that moment.

Just like all the other nights, he waits for the activity to die down, waits until almost everyone is asleep, before sneaking into your tent.

Except, this time you’re awake. Your back is to him as you sit, still and silent. At first, he wonders what you’re doing, until he recognizes the steady breathing that comes with your meditations.

Silently, he ties the tent closed before kneeling behind you. He sees your pointed ear twitch, knows you’re aware of his presence.

Astarion lays his hands on your shoulders and leans down to nuzzle your temple. Your body is tense. He can feel the knots even through your tunic. Carefully, he digs his thumbs into them, rubbing in circles which forces a soft moan out of you.

“You are far too tense, darling. I don’t think the meditations are working,” he says with a low chuckle, smirking at the way the skin of your neck raises with goosebumps.

You lean back against his chest, making it harder to keep massaging you. So he slides his hands down your arms to hold you instead.

Astarion isn’t one for hugging or cuddling, but this feels nice, having your weight on him like this. It only lasts a second. You lean forward once more, this time with your face in your hands. He lays a hand on your back, recognizing that you need a minute, and more than happy to give you such.

He feels slightly out of his element. Normally when he arrives for the seduction, it’s hasty and eager, with the mark throwing themselves at him. You aren’t doing that, you haven’t even turned around to face him.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you tell him, your voice muffled. “If you’re looking for something carefree and light, I’m sure you can find someone with less baggage.”

Astarion can’t help bursting into laughter. He pulls your arms down and leans around to look you in the eye. “Have we been traveling with the same companions?” he asks. “If you can find this mythical baggage-less person then I salute you because from where I’m sitting, we’re all a bunch of fucking weirdos.”

That breaks the tension in you. Laughing, you lean into him again and he savors the closeness, recognizing that it stirs that same unknown sensation within him. He kisses your neck not only to move things along but for another reason.

Yours is the first thinking-creature’s neck he’s ever sampled and the novelty is fairly potent. He’s left his mark on you, not once but several times. It’s enough to drive him to distraction. The scent of your skin causes his body to react, his mouth already salivating while his cock twitches with interest.

Astarion finds you relaxing while the time slips away, and it isn’t long before his hands are reaching for the laces of your tunic. He unties them with deliberate slowness, giving you every chance to stop him.

You don’t.

In fact, your hands join his to help, and when they are finally undone, you draw away to lift the tunic over your head.

Now you’re both shirtless and when your warm skin touches his it’s like a pleasant balm to his cold flesh. He continues lavishing your throat while his hands cup your breasts, thrilled at the way your nipples pebble under his thumbs. He kneads and tweaks, pinching until just on the edge of pain before backing off.

“Astarion?” you ask, voice already breathless and husky with desire.

“Mmm, yes?”

“If we do this, I only have one request.”

He’s not surprised at this, even anticipated as such. There’s always a request or demand of him and he will dutifully oblige. Anything to keep this going, to seal the deal.

“And what’s that, darling?”

“Stay with me after? At least, just for the night.”

That…is it?

Astarion draws away, prompting you to turn to face him. Your eyes are hooded, lips wet from being swiped by your tongue. But there is a vulnerability he has never seen before that has him answering immediately.

“I will stay,” he promises, and means it. “For tonight, I am yours and you are mine. Nothing else outside this tent exists. It’s just us.” He gently cradles your face. “Just this.”

You lean in and he captures your lips.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, meant to reassure you that your humble request will be fulfilled. But as it continues, it switches, changes into something else entirely. One of his hands drops to your trousers, yanking at the laces with the same fevered energy that’s taken over your mouths. He is suddenly filled with the urge to touch, to make you shudder and moan not for his sake, but for yours.

Astarion sees in his mind’s eye every choice, every decision you have had to make. Always for others and never for yourself. Hells, do you do anything for your own well-being?

He hasn’t seen it. And if this night with him is it, if being with him is how you want to indulge, he’s going to make damn sure he makes it worth it.

When his hand slips below your waistline, his fingers slide through the mound of curls to the petal-soft flesh waiting for him. Feeling the wetness on his fingertips makes his eyebrow raise as he breaks from your kisses.

“Already, darling? I’m flattered.”

You huff, flustered. “It’s my neck,” you mumble, prompting him to latch his mouth there once more. “It’s really sensitive.”

You gasp when his fingertips stroke through your folds, spreading your arousal with practiced ease.

Astarion has a realization. “All these nights, when you knew I was going to be paying you a visit,” he says. “Did you by any chance feel aroused?”

“Every fucking time.”

He slides a finger into you, relishing the low moan and how eagerly your body pulls him in. That explains the intense hard-ons and need to get off immediately after feeding on you. He was unknowingly drinking your arousal, which he plans to do in a very different context tonight.

You’re warm and wet, and the sound of your rushing blood is making it so difficult not to seek his—your marks. The ones he feeds from every time, the ones that never seem to fully fade even with healing magic.

Sliding his finger out, he presses firm circles around your neglected nub while his free hand reaches for your breasts again. Your chest heaves and your hips begin to rise and fall along with his ministrations. When he pushes two fingers into you, your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“Astarion!” you gasp.

“That’s it, darling. Let go of everything else. Just think about me.”

In this intimate moment, he becomes acutely aware of two things: one, his name has never sounded sweeter, and two, this is going to be different for him.

Astarion doesn’t find himself slipping away like he’s done in the past. Prior, his body would go on following the script while his brain retreated elsewhere. It was a part he knew all too well and had perfected over the centuries. A moment of disgust at himself then powering through just to get it done.

Yet, it’s not happening. Tonight, he is very aware of where he is and who he is with. Somehow having you be the one to moan his name is keeping him grounded, in the moment.

And he doesn’t want to lose that.

His fingers speed up, alternating between rubbing your nub and burrowing deep into that addictive warmth he wants around his cock. You’re gasping and moaning, seemingly uncaring if anyone hears.

Let them hear, he thinks. Let them know I’m the one making our fearless leader cum.

Suddenly, this angle isn’t right. It won’t serve his needs.

Because now that he’s aware of them, aware that he needs your body, needs your little gasps and moans, he won’t stop until you’re both in a breathless, mindless heap of body and limbs.

Astarion tries to draw his hand out of your trousers but you scramble to keep it there, until he nips at your ear and says, “Shh, shh, it’s alright. We just need to get a little comfortable.” Only then do you let him pull away.

He maneuvers you onto your back and is able to fully take in the delicious image you make. Eyes glassy with desire, lips parted, breasts moving as you try to catch your breath. Without warning, he grabs your throat, not hard. Just enough to angle your head up so he can steal a few more kisses.

Then his attention falls to your trousers and he has them off your legs a second later. You’re not wearing underwear, never bothered to put them on after your bath. Hooking his hands under your knees, he spreads you wide, takes his first look at all of you, and promptly descends.

Astarion doesn’t try to put on a show or warm you up with a few practiced licks. You are more than ready for him and he finds himself starved in a completely different way.

A welcomed way.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks greedily, humming with satisfaction when your thighs clamp around his head. It keeps him exactly where you want him, not that he plans to leave any time soon.

This taste of you is so different from your blood yet equally addicting. Heady and sweet, invading his senses until nothing else exists but you. His tongue snakes long your seam, parts your swollen lips, and seeks the hole he teased earlier.

When he finds it, your hips shoot up and he tongue-fucks you, eyes drifting up to meet yours as he does.

You’re propped on your elbows, watching his every move. The vision you make is breathtaking and as he watches your head fall back and your arms buckle, he smirks because he is the one making you feel this way.

Astarion slides a finger into you, this time deeper than the other angle allowed. Your thighs are already quivering and the moment he crooks his finger in just the right way, your arms finally give out and you lay flat on your back.

Hands tentatively find their way into his curls but instead of pulling like he anticipates, they stroke and burrow, holding on for the sake of staying grounded, not for control.

A second finger joins the first and his mouth returns to your aching nub, sucking as greedily as he wants. You’re shaking and moaning, your hips starting to grind against his face the longer he goes on. With the tadpole, he can sense you’re still holding back, still not entirely lost yet. He tries to get you there, increases the pressure of his mouth, and rubs harder against the special place inside you he’s found.

With every twitch, he feels you let go a little more. And when you’re almost there, he switches tactics. For the second time, he reaches for your mind, tries to show you images. This time of yourself, of what he is seeing right then and there.

A beautiful, wanton, deity of a person whom he worships. At least for right now, in this moment. One whose legs fit perfectly over his shoulders and whose shining eyes have him transfixed.

But then what happens next fundamentally changes Astarion and turns his world upside down.

Because, now he isn’t seeing you. He is watching a pale elf with glowing red eyes whose mouth is devouring your slit. Whose cheeks are ruddy with fresh boar’s blood and whose white curls are wrapped around dark fingers.

Astarion is seeing himself for the first time in two hundred years.

And bloody hell he’s magnificent. Not just because he’s beautiful but because he can feel what you’re feeling when you look at him. He can sense the warmth, affection, lust, and fierce protection you’re experiencing here and now, with him.

He’s already achieved his goal. Now he can move on to more important things.

He draws an orgasm out of you only minutes later, not needing you to beg. Not when you’ve given him yet another precious gift.

What a breathtaking sight the two of you make. You, bowing your back into a beautiful arch, and him, sucking greedily at your clit while his fingers stroke deep inside you.

Astarion comes up for air only when your sweaty legs glide off his shoulders, leaving you spread and satisfied.

“How’s that mind of yours now?” he asks, licking your slick off his lips.

It takes a moment for you to answer. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” you gasp, a hand pressed to your forehead as you try to collect yourself.

Astarion smirks and pushes himself up onto his knees, carefully slipping his fingers out of you. He can feel your walls clench, automatically trying to keep him there. He’s tempted but has a better idea.

“I told you, I’m quite good.”

While you lay there, watching, waiting, he makes a show of unlacing his trousers. By now his cock is desperate for attention, straining against the fabric. Each move he makes is purposeful, each look calculated, letting you know exactly what he plans to do next.

He thinks of the previous nights when he crawled into your tent and slid up behind you. And once his trousers are gone and his cock is free, full and leaking at the tip, he nods his head.

“Turn on your side, darling.”

He strokes himself while you do, using your arousal to make the glide of his hand easier, better. He lets every lustful thought invade his senses, lets his eyes shamelessly rake over your body as he realizes this is a fantasy he will get to live out.

Astarion knows this night is about you, should be about you, but he can’t help but feel that it’s now also about him. About having something, even if it’s for a night, that gets to be his.

He spoons up behind you, tucking his cock snug under your backside. His hand comes around and slides between your legs once more, picking up right where he left off. You gasp at the sensitivity, your body tensing for only a second until you manage to relax again.

This time with the added bonus of you rocking against him.

Time loses all meaning. He can not be certain how long you both lay this way, grinding and moving together while his fingers make you cum for a second time. It takes longer but absolutely worth every moment. His mouth is permanently attached to your throat lavishing it in kisses and love bites, leaving even more marks. Not as deep as the mark. He'll only drink from you once he’s good and ready.

And when neither of you can take it anymore, when the friction of your skin isn’t enough and you’re positively soaked, he whispers into your ear.

“Lift your leg.”

You do and he takes hold of himself, coats himself in your slick again, then pushes into you with a smooth, quick, thrust.

A perfect fit.

Being inside you, having his cock enveloped by that fucking heat is better than he would have ever thought. After that, he can’t take his time, won’t until he’s emptied every last drop into you.

Your moans are constant, muffled as you bury your face into your thin pillow, your hand twisting the bedroll, reminding him of how he twisted the soil when he had his first taste of you.

Taste.

Gods does he want to taste you again, drink you as he continues pounding into your eager body. As if struck by the same thought, you reach back to slide your hand into his curls.

“Bite me,” you urge. “I need you too. I can’t…”

He hears the rest of the thought in his head.

I can’t cum again if you don’t.

Astarion bites down on the mark, having half a mind to press down on your swollen nub at the same time. You cry out this time. Loudly. Properly. Not his name yet even more beautiful, a cry of pure ecstasy.

Your blood seeps into his mouth just as a fresh wave of your slick coats his cock, and he is done for.

Thrusting wildly, still rubbing your sore clit, Astarion spills himself into you, lost in a frenzy of blood and lust. He’s aware enough to yank out his fangs but after that, it's a blur as he sucks at your throat while his cock spasms and fills you with his seed.

It's too much and coats his lap and your thighs while trickles of blood dribble down your neck. He’s aware of you pushing his hand away from the overstimulation. So he grabs your hip for leverage during his final, weak thrusts. Spent, you both cry out a final time and then grow still.

Eventually, you roll onto your stomach while Astarion collapses onto your back, crushing you against the bedroll.

You don’t seem to mind in the slightest, letting him lazily lick away any remnants of blood. Only then do you hum with satisfaction stretching underneath him as much as the position will allow.

“Fuck, Astarion.”

“That you did, love. That. You. Did.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss or a nibble.

“You were right,” you purr, sounding infinitely more relaxed than he’s ever heard. “I needed that.”

He places a final kiss to the mark before rolling onto his back. “Mmm, me too.” He tucks his hand under his head, staring up at the canvas of the tent with a lazy, satisfied grin. Like a cat who’s just found a sunbeam.

You roll to face him, draping yourself across his chest in a graceless heap. Your face is glowing with post-coital bliss, eyes still shining as they take him in. You reach up to wipe away a spot of blood from the corner of his lips, which he sucks off your thumb.

Astarion is aware you both should clean up but he can’t bring it in himself to care. Your scent hangs around him, not just your blood but your arousal and release. When mixed with his own, it stirs something primal inside, a sense of claim he’s not sure he has a right to feel.

But he’s far too satisfied to question it.

“That was amazing,” you slur. Already your eyes are drooping and your breathing evens out.

Astarion draws you close, feels around for a blanket he manages to drape over you both. “You’re amazing,” he responds, and is surprised he means it.

Even he is ready to trance, the normal rush of adrenaline after feeding is gone, channeled into the thrusting of his hips during those last precious seconds before utter bliss.

For once, no thoughts or machinations enter his mind. Unless it’s your soft body atop his, he has no interest, lazily stroking your back until you fall asleep.

And as he lets his trance carry him away, he has one final thought, an observation his waking mind will remember vividly the next morning when he finds you in the same position, curled around each other even in sleep.

Having you in his arms seems to be another perfect fit.

---

Taglist: @frankie-mercury @miniminx

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x you

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 3 months

Text

enemies to lovers: Dual Of Wits

pairing: anthony bridgerton x female reader

hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

The grand ballroom of Bridgerton House was ablaze with light, the chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the assembled guests. Laughter and music filled the air, creating an atmosphere of gaiety and splendor. However, one corner of the room was noticeably colder, the air crackling with an almost tangible tension.

Anthony Bridgerton stood tall and brooding, his eyes narrowed as he watched Y/N glide effortlessly across the dance floor. Her laughter was like music, light and captivating, drawing the attention of every gentleman in the room. Except Anthony. To him, she was a thorn in his side, a constant challenge to his authority and composure.

Y/N, the daughter of a Viscount, was every bit as headstrong and stubborn as Anthony. Their clashes were legendary in the ton, each encounter more fiery than the last. Tonight was no different. As the waltz came to an end, Y/N’s gaze met Anthony’s across the room. She gave him a defiant smile before turning to her dance partner, a handsome duke, completely ignoring Anthony’s presence.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Anthony’s deep voice cut through the music as he approached her. The duke, sensing the storm brewing, excused himself politely.

“Immensely,” Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Is there something you needed, Lord Bridgerton?”

“I needed to remind you, Miss Y/N, that your behavior tonight is bordering on scandalous,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Is it?” she replied, feigning innocence. “I hadn’t noticed. Perhaps you should concern yourself with your own affairs instead of mine.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened. “Your father would be most displeased with your conduct.”

“My father is quite proud of me,” Y/N shot back. “He respects a woman who can stand her ground. Unlike some men.”

Anthony’s eyes darkened. “You overstep, Miss Y/N.”

“Do I?” she challenged, stepping closer. “Or is it that you can’t stand the fact that I won’t bow to your every whim?”

Their faces were inches apart now, the heat of their argument overshadowing the coolness of the night air.

“Careful, Y/N,” Anthony warned. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“And what if I like danger?” she whispered, her voice daring him to respond.

Before he could answer, the music started again, and Y/N turned on her heel, leaving Anthony standing alone, fuming and intrigued. Days turned into weeks, and the tension between Anthony and Y/N only grew. They clashed at every event, their arguments becoming the talk of the ton. Yet, there was an undeniable attraction simmering beneath their barbs and jibes, one that neither of them could ignore.

One evening, at a particularly grand soiree, Y/N found herself cornered in the library by none other than Anthony Bridgerton.

“Do you make it a habit of hiding in libraries during balls?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Do you make it a habit of stalking young ladies?” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Anthony took a step closer, his gaze intense. “You’re a puzzle, Y/N. One I’m determined to solve.”

“Perhaps some puzzles are meant to remain unsolved,” she replied, her heart racing at his proximity.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Or perhaps they just need the right person to solve them.”

Y/N’s breath hitched at the unexpected tenderness in his touch. “What do you want from me, Anthony?”

“I want you to admit that there’s something between us,” he said, his voice husky. “Something more than just animosity.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “And if I did?”

“Then I would do this,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a heated kiss.

For a moment, Y/N was too stunned to react. But then she melted into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. The kiss was a battle of wills, both of them pouring all their frustration and longing into it.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

“Anthony,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky.

“Say it,” he urged. “Admit it.”

“There’s something between us,” she confessed, her heart pounding.

A triumphant smile spread across Anthony’s face. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

And in that moment, enemies became lovers, their passion burning brighter than any feud. Anthony Bridgerton lay in bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling of his room. The clock on the mantle ticked loudly in the silence, each passing second a reminder of how long he had been lying awake. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centering on one person: Y/N.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, the defiant sparkle in her eyes, the way her lips curved into a challenging smile. Their kiss in the library had been seared into his memory, a brand that burned hotter each time he recalled it. He could still taste her, feel the warmth of her body pressed against his.

rustrated, Anthony threw back the covers and got out of bed. He paced the length of his room, trying to shake off the restless energy that gripped him. But it was no use. Y/N was under his skin, and there was no getting her out.

With a sigh, he walked to the window and looked out at the moonlit gardens below. The night was cool and clear, the perfect contrast to the turmoil raging within him. He needed to see her, to talk to her, to try and make sense of the emotions that had been stirred up.

Before he knew it, he was dressed and heading downstairs. He slipped out of the house quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. The streets were deserted, the city asleep, but Anthony's thoughts were anything but calm.

He found himself at the edge of the garden where he and Y/N had first argued, a place filled with memories of their heated exchanges. Tonight, it felt different. Tonight, it felt like the beginning of something new.

As if drawn by some invisible force, Anthony continued to walk until he reached the Viscount's residence. The house was dark, save for a single light in an upstairs window. He knew it was Y/N’s room. She often read late into the night, another thing about her that fascinated him.

Without thinking, Anthony picked up a small pebble and tossed it at the window. The light flickered, and a moment later, the window opened.

"Anthony?" Y/N's voice was a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted, his voice low. "I needed to see you."

She leaned out of the window, her expression softening slightly. "And what do you think you're doing, throwing stones at my window in the middle of the night? Have you lost your mind?"

"Perhaps I have," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Or perhaps I found something worth losing it over."

Y/N was silent for a moment, her eyes searching his. Then, with a sigh, she said, "Wait there. I’ll be down in a moment."

Anthony waited, his heart pounding in his chest. When she finally emerged from the house, wrapped in a shawl, she walked over to him with a determined stride.

"What is it, Anthony?" she asked, her voice soft in the night air. "Why are you really here?"

He took a step closer, reaching out to take her hand. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

"Us?" she echoed, her eyes widening.

"Yes, us," he said, his grip tightening on her hand. "I know we've been enemies, but I can't deny what I feel anymore. There's something between us, Y/N. Something real and undeniable."

Y/N looked down at their joined hands, her breath hitching. "I don't know, Anthony. We’re too different. We fight all the time."

"Perhaps," he said, his voice gentle. "But maybe that’s what makes us perfect for each other. We challenge each other, push each other to be better."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "And what if it doesn't work?"

"Then we'll fight," he said with a shrug. "And we’ll make up. Because I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. Not now, not ever."

Y/N's lips trembled as she smiled. "You’re a stubborn man, Anthony Bridgerton."

"Only when it comes to the things that matter," he replied, pulling her into his arms. "And you, Y/N, you matter more than anything."

As the first light of dawn began to break, Anthony and Y/N stood together in the garden, their hearts finally beating in unison. And in that moment, they knew that whatever the future held, they would face it together.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x wife reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine

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tikosblogg · 2 months

Text

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sabastian smut #badomensimagines #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band #bad omens smut #nick folio #joakim jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo

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enterrandomname · 5 months

Text

Warriors

Ares x Child of Ares!Reader

Warning: OOC Ares(?)

A/N: I do apologize if requests are slower than usual! I have exams coming up, but further than that I hope you enjoy this! And I can’t make promises on when I’ll start on them. But you may send requests as much as you like ^^

Word Count: 1k

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

Ares, the God of War, never had time to ‘play around’ with his children. Yes, he claims them as his own, but what would you expect from a god? Almost all the gods could care less about their children. They would be born just to fear for their lives, as disgusting creatures hunted them down like animals.

You found it strange how your father often visits you while you’re on a quest. This was an unexpected change from God. Had you finally gotten his recognition? Had he finally decided that you were worthy of his time?

“I don’t want any excuses, child!” His voice boomed through the training area.

You wouldn’t even call it a training area; all that was there were trees and a drawing of a circle that was to resemble an arena. You could see his eyes glow beneath his glasses, with flames dancing around them.

The God of War stared at you, a shiver running down your spine as you tried to steady your breathing after a grueling combat session. Blood slowly dripped down your face, a reminder of you failing to protect your face from your father's attacks. He never said he was going to go tough on you.

Ares scoffed, the air crackling with tension. “Training? You call that training?” He rolled his eyes(?), arms crossed in front of his chest, as he stood with pride. “What we did there was real training, child of mine.”

“You carry the blood of warriors, yet you fight like a novice.” He added more salt to the wound, as if that wouldn’t lower your self-esteem even lower. “Pick up your sword.”

It wasn’t an order; it was a command. He was commanding you to do it. And like the good child you are, you did what he said.

With a nod, you hastily grabbed the sword before looking back at God, who impatiently waited, tapping his leather shoe against the ground. “Can’t we do this another time?” You tried to reason with him. Your body was exhausted and needed a break from his tough training. This wasn’t like the training back at Camp Half-Blood.

“Would you rather spend your whole life being chased around by Harpies with zero experience in fighting?” He growled, making his way toward you. You could never tell what he was feeling due to those pesky sunglasses. If he was trying to get you to be afraid, well, he was doing a good job at that.

You could practically feel the ground shake with every step he took as he advanced towards you. Surely he wouldn’t dare to hurt one of his children again, right? You failed to notice how the blood had somehow disappeared, only leaving a scar on your cheek.

The flames behind his sunglasses flickered with anger. “Well?” said he, waiting for your response. The God of War never liked to wait, but it seemed like you were an exception. “No… father.” Lowering your head in despair. Had all of your hopes and dreams gone to waste? Why was it so hard to please your father? Numorous, unanswered questions clouded your mind.

You looked up in confusion once you felt a hand on your head. What was this, you thought. A smirk made its way to God’s face as he saw your bewildered look. Was this the way he shows his affection for his children? You couldn't help but smile at the God of War, feeling a little bit of pride come back to you.

“Don’t tell the others, yeah? Keep this a secret between the two of us. I’ll get you whatever you want if it keeps your mouth shut, little one.”

The flames in his eye sockets seemed to have calmed down as you watched them faintly glow.

Little one? Was your brain playing tricks on you, or was this all but a dream? Ares, God of War, giving you a nickname? You had to cherish this moment. Who knew it took this long for Ares to warm up to one of his children? Certainly, you didn't.

The god sighed before he kneeled down. He, ever so gently, placed his hand on your arm, a warm sensation spreading throughout your body. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? Don’t go around thinking’ you can destroy whatever beast is out there,” said Ares.

Is this what it feels like to be loved by your father?

“You are still human, not a god. You’re not immortal like us.” Oh, to see the look on your siblings's faces once they find out where you've been this entire time. The perks of being the favorite, I guess!

“Why are you telling me this?" You couldn’t help but ask, staring into your father’s shades as he awkwardly rubbed your arm. His touch was… warm and fatherly, something you couldn't even describe.

He raised an eyebrow, baffled by the sudden question. “Well, squirt, despite this chaotic world we are forced to live in, I still... care for my children.” He placed his finger on your lips, silencing you from asking more questions. You silently glared at him as you thought about biting your father’s finger.

It wasn't like you were going to be rambling over how he hadn't been there for you a single time in your life!

Well, it was fun while it lasted. If only these moments could happen every once a week rather than once a month.

The God then shook his head. “We are wasting time.” Standing back up before he lifted you up from the back of your shirt. It was like you were a five-year-old all over again. You hadn't realized that your idol was a god this entire time.

“Pay attention, because I’m not going to repeat myself twice,” said Ares, confidently making his way to the opposite side of the said arena. “The first rule is to never show any weakness to your enemy. They could use that to their advantage. Now, shall we begin?”

With a simple nod, Ares smirked once again, his heart slowly beginning to warm up.

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thezombieprostitute · 7 months

Text

Lloyd Hanson - Soulmate AU

A/N: I swear, I tried to ignore him but that only made things worse. @alicedopey didn't help!

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Reader is kidnapped. Smut. Sub/Dom dynamics vs Dub Con?

The bag is removed from your head and you're finally able to get a look at your surroundings. It's a dark room with one light above the table. It looks like one of those police interrogation rooms in TV shows. The duct tape is ripped from your mouth and you hiss from the pain. You test the bonds around your wrists, tied behind your back, but they're too secure to wiggle out of.

The chair across from you is abruptly pulled back and you're face to face with a tall, broad, blue eyed man with a porn mustache. He's smiling at you. You say nothing, letting your confusion show on your face. He rolls up his shirt sleeve and you see his soulmate tattoo. It's an exact match for yours.

"You couldn't have just bought me a coffee," you ask, trying to keep from snapping.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you're my soulmate. I have to get you used to what the rest of your life is going to be."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "I'm going to constantly be kidnapped and talk with over-the-top idiots?"

He laughs at your comeback, "not quite. But I do have a lot of enemies and I gotta make sure my soulmate doesn't panic, cry and rat me out if they get picked up." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "And I gotta say, you are a champ!"

"I'm good at getting kidnapped," you deadpan. "What a wonderful compliment."

"Not easily scared, sassy and sarcastic," he croons. "You really are my soulmate." He winks and you roll your eyes.

"How did you find me," you ask. "I rarely, if ever, let my soulmate tattoo show."

"Someone used a rare photo of your mark to draw me in," he admits. "Imagine my surprise when it was someone trying to kill me."

"And from there you were able to find me," you nod. "Any chance of untying me, now that you know I'm not trying to kill you?"

"I dunno," he leers, "I'm kinda getting hard at the thought of you being so helpless to stop me."

"I swear to whatever deity will listen, I can and will bite you. Literally and metaphorically."

"Metaphorically?"

"The reason you like me being tied up is because your limp dick needs to feel like it's actually capable of leaving some kind of imprint."

"Ouch!" He moves his hand over his heart, "you weren't kidding, Sunshine. That really hurt!" He leaned forward even more, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "do it again."

"The only reason you don't shave your mustache is because you enjoy getting looks from people because you're a needy man-baby who needs the attention."

"Ooooh, that feels so good," he leans back, chuckling. He makes a motion and someone comes up behind you and undoes your bindings.

"Thank you," you nod, rubbing your wrists.

"Ah, I was wondering where the niceness was." You raise your eyebrow again, silently asking him what he meant. "You work with people a lot and always get such glowing customer service reviews. That means you can at least pretend to be nice. But when I dig further, I find that you're a good neighbor who helps the old lady carry in her groceries. Helps the kiddies with their homework. All that wholesome stuff."

"I have social skills," you retort. "Kinda required for the job."

"You don't have a job anymore." You don't try to hide your surprise at that statement. His tone goes stern for the first time, "I can't have my soulmate wasting her time on other people. All of that goodness you do for others? You're gonna do it for me and only me from now on. I get to be the only outlet for your kindness and you're gonna pamper me every time I'm home."

“No I'm not.”

“Excuse you? I don’t see that you have much of a choice here Sweetie.”

“Not my fault you lack the imagination to see my options.”

“Your options are to either tend to my every want and need or wallow in a basement on starvation rations.” You smile at him and enjoy the momentary drop in his confidence. “You will give me everything I want. In return, I’ll give you everything money can buy.” You throw your head back and laugh at that. He’s squirming a little, wondering what the hell is going on.

“You can have my submission when you earn it,” you coo. “And you don’t earn it by buying it.” You lean forward, putting yourself in his personal space.

“What the hell is going on?”

You roll up your sleeve to show Lloyd the matching soulmate tattoo and put your arm next to his. At the first touch of your hand, you both feel the electricity that confirms the two halves have met. You reach out and gently rub his cheek with your hand and he leans into it, gently moaning before he catches himself.

“You see, even though I don’t know your name, I can see right through you. Your reactions to my snipes and my politeness were quite telling. You do crave attention but you’ve only ever been good at getting negative attention. A soulmate could give you that positive attention you long for. Why else would you actually come looking for me? You could keep up that attention seeking behaviour without involving me but you put yourself at risk for the chance at meeting someone who might be kind to you. Who might like you, if only because they have to.”

“My name is Lloyd,” he grumbles.

“Thank you, Lloyd. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you definitely started on the wrong foot.”

He goes silent but he doesn’t stop your hand rubbing his cheek. He wants to be angry at you. He wants to follow through on his display of force. But he can’t do that. He makes another hand motion and a door opens. He stands up, comes around the table and lifts you up out of your chair.

“I don’t appreciate not being in control, Sweetheart,” he growls at you. “I may want all of your affection but I will not hesitate to use force if you try to take control from me ever again.”

“As I said, you can have my submission when you’ve earned it.”

“And how do I do that? You turned down my offer of everything money can buy.”

“Treat me like a queen or goddess, not a pet.”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the door, taking you with him. You manage to keep pace as he leads you through several hallways, up some stairs and finally emerging into, what you can easily assume to be, a mansion. He doesn’t stop to let you take too close of a look. He leads up the wide staircase, to a set of double doors. He pushes them open and you see a giant, canopy bed. You also see things that, while you can’t name them, you're pretty sure they’re meant for BDSM activities.

He pulls you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, and forces your face up to look at him. “You’re not the only one who can read people, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You enjoy being a bratty, submissive slut. You want someone who can properly dominate you, satisfy that craving your cunt aches for.”

He walks you to the bed as he keeps talking, “you always tried to hide your tattoo because it was your one rebellion against a world that makes you feel helpless. You are kind to your neighbors because you’re too stubborn to let your customer service job kill your soul.”

He pushes you onto all fours on the bed and smacks your ass. “And your unusual calm at being kidnapped? You expect the world to fuck you over.” He smacks your ass again and you bite back a moan. “You expect things to be out of your control so you don’t sweat it when you’re proven right.” He smacks your ass a few more times and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. As soon as he hears it he chuckles. “You don’t want to be treated like a pet? Fine.” He spanks you again. “But I won’t treat you like a goddess or a queen.” Another slap. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty slut you’ve always wanted to be.” Another slap. “And I’ll make sure you never feel you have to be more than just the cock hungry whore you really are.”

The spanking continues, hard, fast and painful, until your arms give out. Lloyd reaches his arms around you and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his muscular chest. One hand holds you up by your neck. His other hand reaches under your clothes and smirks at how wet you are. He gathers up some of the slick and starts rubbing circles over your clit. You start whining and gasping at the sensations but you don’t dare move your hips. You’re certain he’ll stop if you do anything he doesn’t tell you to and you don’t want this to stop.

He whispers in your ear, “so long as you never try to wrestle control from me again, I’ll treat how you really want to be treated.” His fingers move faster and you whimper from how close you are. “Not like a queen or a goddess, no. Not a pet, either.” You’re focused on not moving, trying to make sure that his fingers continue to work their magic. “I’ll treat you like my dirty little slut who will do anything so long as I let her cum.”

His grip on your neck tightens and he whispers, “cum for me.” Your orgasm hits you harder than you ever thought possible. He keeps his fingers moving as he whispers “such a good slut.” As the ecstasy ebbs your legs start shaking and he lays you down on your back.

Lloyd licks his fingers and moans appreciatively. He pulls off your pants and underwear, whistling appreciatively at the mess you’ve made of your panties. You try to lift yourself on your elbows but he pushes you back down. “You move when I tell you to, Sweetheart,” he orders, his tone making you whimper. He winks at you, “now let me show you the real reason I keep this mustache.”

#lloyd hansen x reader #soulmate au #tw kidnapping #dark!lloyd hansen

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mischiefmaker615 · 5 months

Text

Fangs

Rating: PG14

Requester: @eleniblue

Promp: "Why do you think that you need to fix me? Who told you I was broken?"

Summary: You discover Loki's secret

Note: TBH i've been wanting to try a Vampire Loki one shot..

"Why do you think that you need to fix me? Who told you I was broken?"

His voice was barely a whisper, almost as if he were right beside you when you clearly had your gaze on him from across a healing table.

Your eyes flicked up at him, having finished letting your minor cut heal under the magical glow before drawing your hand away from his.

His fingers gave a very small resistance, as if not wishing to let you go just yet as your fingers slid from his, both your finger tips faintly hesitating before your arm returned to your side again. Your other hand gripped your servants gown, your nails reminding you just how tight you had it clutched from your nervousness where you finally released the fabric.

That's all you were weren't you.. servant. But to prince Loki, you were more than that..

A servant and a prince. In his eyes you were nothing more than a goddess, as he's often reminded you. he often found excuses to be able to run into you, to have you on call for mere tasks that you would bring yourself to him as well. And you went willingly. You always did. There was something.. about it, something different.. and with each passing day as your bond grew, you knew there was something he just wasn't admitting. The funny thing was, his feelings were clear and he's spoken of them and his intentions.. but what he hid was deeper than that.. something that grew fear in your chest by the mere thought of daring to ask.

The opportunity always presented itself to ask what exactly he hid but words never left your mouth. How could you? you both have shared your hearts, have shared a bed, and he new your every soul and desire as if it were apart of him. was this it?

The way he gazed at you now had your eyes captive in his and you could feel your heart race as you drew in a breath to not have your prince wait any longer. ''it would seem you are the one always having to fix me..'' you often a light joke, your smile disappearing before you could even fully raise in as he slowly drew his hand off the table and he straightened to his full height. Even with the relationship you both secretly had, the prince never failed to remind you just how different your positions were, making your eyes drop respectfully.

''answer pet..'' he whispered.

''.. I don't wish to fix you Loki.. and I don't think you are broken..'' you answer with your voice just as quiet as his. Your eyes slowly raise to meet his own, seeing how he gazed upon you in question as you boldly spoke his name. ''..i can.. sense that you have been secretly struggling with something for a long time..'' you spoke, your head tilting up ever so slightly to gaze up at him and felt yourself take a breath. ''something to long..''

Loki's eyes roamed over you, his body stiffening as if you were on to him yet his expression never gave you an answer about what he was really thinking. He never did. His words were always answer but you've often had to find the right questions. That is, when he wasn't using seduction to have you forget what you wished to ask in the first place.

Your eyes glanced down where your cut had previously been, a reminder of a small pruning incident with the roses just before he made his presence known in the garden not long ago. He was always there wasn't he.. whenever you got hurt. Whenever you were bleeding..

Your eyes slowly moved up to his, the warm yellow glow of the healers table illuminating his eyes. Those eyes.. they always seemed different until you would begin questioning their color, just as they were now. Back to blue. But not before..

Your steps moved you before you could even register what was happening, slowly moving yourself around the table as you hold his gaze in your own now with a small kindling of confidence that rose in your chest. Your hand slid and followed along the table's edge as you brought yourself around and stopped before him, his head dipping down ever so slightly to look at you with careful breaths rising his chest.

''...you're starving aren't you..''

There was a chill in the air so it seemed, your one, simple statement being enough to draw silence between the two of you which seemed to feel like forever as he wordlessly parted his lips in question.

''i.. pet- i.. what are you-'' for once in your entire life, the prince struggled for words before you.

You both knew.

''it's okay Loki.. you're not broken.. you don't need to be fixed.. you're just hungry..'' your words were a whisper, where you almost couldn't even hear yourself if you hadn't seen the prince's reactions.

Ever so slightly he would take slow steps back as you slowly stalked forward, your eyes never leaving each other's even once as his back reached the wall with still that slight stocked expression that one would miss if they weren't gazing upon him intently.

''I've know for a long time my prince.. and it's okay.. this secret will be unspoken and safe with me..'' you said carefully, seeing how his eyes even questioned your loyalty but you kept your expression serious. He was the god of lies after all, and knew he saw truth in your words. Your shoes stopped just before his, tilting your head up and to the side as you looked at him.

''I love you Loki. It's okay..'' you breathed, love in your eyes as your hand slowly rose up and brushed your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him.

Right in that moment, time seemed to stop. His breath held, his eyes widen and his body stiffened. Those eyes were no longer blue anymore.. but took on the same color as the very blood that had left your hand not to long ago. His hands shook, restraint and control fighting him as he seemed to be losing and coming undone, something Loki has always been skilled at maintaining. Yet not tonight. Not right now.

And he snapped.

His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, using one swift motion to turn you both where your back now is pressed against the wall with the god before you looming dangerously close.

''you're a clever girl, that you are..'' he whispered, his voice almost reminding you of a snake and could feel the tip of his nose rub against your neck as his hand grips your jaw to keep your head tilted to the side. His thumb runs against your bottom lip while you hear him inhale your scent and could see a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. ''I am unsure of how you figured it out love,.. perhaps I was careless around you.. as one does when they are in love.'' His eyes flick to yours. ''their walls come down.''

A knee moved itself between your legs, applying just enough pressure as he rubbed against your sensitive area; your hand gripping his wrist as you tried not to whimper while the other rested against his chest. You always felt small like this- granted your heights were drastically different anyway, but he used this to his advantage.. and absolutely relished in it.

''I know I can trust you love, and that you are telling the truth.. but you should not have offered me this..'' he sighed, your eyes trained on him but didn't move, your pleasure from his grinding knee distracting you as you tried focusing on his words.

''I care for you Loki, I wanted too..''

You bite your lip as you held back a moan, feeling the flat of his tongue slowly drag across the crook of your neck, making your shiver and your fingers tighten.

''and that is why I love you Y/N.. you know of the danger, of the risks and yet you still place myself before your own desires and needs. Truly a treasure to be kept sacred.. which is why I will do my upmost best, darling, to not inflict pain upon you. at least.. not in this way..'' he promised, his red eyes meeting your own to ensure of you the truth behind his words before he inhaled, his eyes closing and his brows furrowed in concentration.

You knew what he was, you knew what to expect, yet your body still reacted once his eyes reopened and his lips parted slightly. His eyes didn't dare meet yours, almost as if he didn't wish to see your possible reaction of fear as your eyes left his lust filled ones to rest upon his slightly long fangs that promised would pierce without much force. Your body tensed and your eyes widened as he kept his eyes trained on your neck and you felt his groin grow hard as he moved his knee away to move even closer to you, grinding himself against you as his hand left your wrist to lace his fingers with yours and kept you pinned all the same.

There was slight fear, more anxiousness of the unknown but you made no move to stop him, to fight him, and as if sensing your worry almost seemed to drive him more as he gave your neck a kiss before you squeezed your eyes shut.

Your whole body seemed to jump as pain shot through your body, almost feeling like you had gotten stabbed by a dagger or shocked with electricity.. perhaps both as you felt his teeth pierce your skin deep before pulling away slightly. Your fingers gripped his shoulder, holding on as if he were to save you although he was your attacker. Just your reaction alone, and perhaps by now to new smell of blood was enough to cause Loki to moan against your skin, pressing himself against you as if he had no intention on letting you go.

The next thing you felt was his lips against your wound, the pain still stinging as you tried to move your head but his hand still on your jaw prevented you from doing so, wanting to remain in his access to your neck while he began to suck at you.

It was like a sort of tingling, it felt like you were being given a hickey but with a stronger suction. Much stronger. It was a strange feeling, feeling your blood leave your body and one could almost miss it if they weren't paying close attention. You felt Loki's body relax a little, knowing his hunger was being satisfied as he drank from you. it was almost explicit, exotic in the strange world of sexual pleasure where your fear seemed to be subsiding and your eyes closed, resting your head back as your lips parted. Your attention switched once he began grinding himself against you again, causing you to shiver as your pleasure began to build.

''Loki...'' you breathed in pleasure and reopened your eyes with a small smile, yet that smile only lasted for so long before you began seeing your vison grow fuzzy.

Blood loss will do that.

Your body began to tense, panic seemed to set in as he seemed to have no intention of stopped and you knew the risk if you lost to much blood- or all. He always paid attention to all your reactions and responses- it was quite frankly his favorite part yet he didn't seem to be letting up as you began squirming, feeling panic from how your vison danced and your strength growing weak- to pleasure as he seemed to keep grinding himself against you.

''L-Loki-'' you whimper, your fingers tightening on his shoulders and your other hand trying to pull out of his. ''P-Please..''

A yelp left your lips as you felt him puncture you once more just below your shoulder, his hand leaving your jaw to pin you by your free shoulder and felt him hum against you as he began drinking again. You felt warm liquid rolling down against your skin by your neck as your body tensed and your lips parted. Words never came as he was quick to swipe the straying blood with his tongue before continuing to drink and you felt his body shiver in pleasure.

Your eyes slowly closed as your body began growing rapidly weak and cold and your grip loosened. Knowing he was happy and alive, sating his torturous hunger was enough to at least give a small smile on your lips before everything went black.

Cold, slender fingers slowly stroked your cheek as you reopened your eyes again. Your memory was fuzzy but you knew you had passed out for quite awhile. Your vision met a warm, yellow light, indicating you were laying upon the healers table and you found your body feeling normal.

Moving your head to the side to see who was caressing your cheek, your eyes met the prince's blue ones and a small smile of relief was on his lips as he kneeled down on his knee to be more at your level.

''darling.. I'm glad you are well..'' he said, guilt behind his voice as his eyes moved over your body as if the healing missed anything before moving back to your own, seeing how you seemed relaxed and honestly.. smiling.

''I am well Loki, and am glad you could say the same.. you're looking much better'' you admit quietly, your hand raising up to hold his hand and he opted for it as he stopped stroking your cheek.

''I shall be forever grateful my lady..'' he gently teased as gazed off slightly, his smile fading a bit. ''..it's to dangerous to do it again.. you passed out for some time''

''that's what the table is for Loki- I'll be fine-''

''not with me darling.. I found myself unable to pull away, to have self-control.. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to- I didn't care.. you are lucky you woke up..'' he said sadly, his eyes searching yours as you slowly brought yourself to sit up.

Despite your usual shy state and the constant reminder of your position, this was between lovers. So you brought your hand up too his cheek without hesitation in a gentle stroke, just as he had to yours to wake you up; feeling him lean into your hand as he closed his eyes with shame.

''love is about sacrifice.. if you fought yourself at the door of death Loki, I'd gladly throw myself in replace if it meant saving you. I'll do it again if I find yourself looking the way you had.'' You promised, seeing how he opened your eyes as if he had to search for any sort of lie, shocked as you never hesitated to show how much you felt about him as he brought his hand up to rest against yours.

''I swear by it Y/N.. for you, I will not rest until I have brought myself into a state of self-control.. I will not lose you for the sake of sating myself of the temptation of blood..''

Your eyes gazed upon his, how your smile inspired his own as you brought your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His arms didn't hesitate to wrap around you as well as you both held each other and the great weight of his secret could be felt lifting from his shoulders as he buried his face into your neck with his body fully relaxing. You stroked his hair, just how he liked as you rested your chin against his shoulder and the strong feeling of boldness filled your chest. At the same time, your cheeks reddened at the very thought and darkened once the words left your lips.

''..are you hungry for something else?'' you asked, maybe a bit to seductively as he slowly pulled away from you, his eyes flicking down at your lower self with a smirk spreading over his lips as he gazed back into your eyes.

''..quite starving my darling.''

#loki x reader smut #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki #loki smut #loki x reader #lokifluff

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doodle-pops · 2 years

Text

Types of Simps | Imladris

A/N: Finally decided to add the House of Elrond to my list of characters. I've been dying to use this gif.

Types of Simps: Lords of Gondolin | House of Feanor | Ainur | House of Fingolfin

Elrond – the ‘gentleman’ simp

· No seriously, I would let this elf simp over me any day because he’s the definition of a gentleman.

· Whatever it is you are doing, he’s able to juggle his duties as Lord and find the time to spend it with you. Are you going on a walk through the gardens?

· Elrond would randomly come strolling with a smirk and request to accompany your walk as if he wasn't timing you.

· “What a coincidence that we meet on such a fine day Y/N. Perhaps I can ask to join you at such a fair moment?”

· Are you blushing? I hope you are. Small trinkets will begin to arrive at your door with an obvious poetic note attached to them, stating that it was from Lord Elrond.

· He enjoys being in your company and spending every moment of his time with you. It’s as though time is frozen whenever you are around, and he revels in the moment.

· Compliments, praises, flowers, gifts – yes. All of which Elrond would spare no expense in spoiling you. Even if you’re not the type to enjoy lavishly expensive gifts, he’s able to dial it down and turn to a more meaningful approach.

· He always has his arm out for you to hold, pulling your chair out for you to sit, tucking your hair behind your ear and then giving you a heart-warming smile and compliment about you being the most wonderful person to enter his life.

Celebrian – the ‘nervous sweetheart’ simp

· She’s a sweetheart through her natural motherly instincts, thus, she’ll baby you whenever something happens.

· It’s only after when she realizes what she did, or doing, that she’ll embarrassingly blush and hide. You on the other hand would also blush furiously at her sweet and gentle gestures.

· A quick fix of your clothes whenever it’s mismatched, a tuck-in of a loose hair strand, patting your cheeks with a handkerchief when you're flushed or sweating.

· And when she’s finished, she’ll freeze with widened eyes at the realization of her actions once again before mumbling apologies. It’s a cute sight, both of your furiously blushing.

· She loves to help as we can see, but she loves to dish out compliments. She’ll give herself a pep talk only to aggressively compliment you because she was nervous.

· She did that once and you thought she was about to further insult you from the level of aggression.

· If you ever attempt to return the same gestures to her, she’ll go quiet and avert her eyes everywhere except you with twiddling thumbs. She’s just trying not to pass out.

· The best part is that she makes up every excuse in the book just to spend time with you even when she can’t.

Glorfindel – the “overly enthusiastic” simp

· No shame that he simps for you, the most he’ll do is blush and laugh whenever someone mentions it.

· He’s like those excited puppies that haven’t seen their owner for five minutes whenever he sees you. You’re just lucky he hasn’t jumped on you.

· Whenever he sees you, he’s quick to call out your name, letting you know that he’s aware of your presence. He’ll always find himself standing or sitting next to you once the occasion calls for it.

· A compliment for every time he sees you and when you return it, he’d return one right back at you for it to continue back and forth like that.

· His aura naturally glows when you’re near, it’s a fact. One time it happened – the other lords complained about how bright he was.

· He’s your number one hype elf, just like Egalmoth, cheering you on if his profession he takes seriously.

· He never wants to see you sad or down or crying because one time he saw you crying and was ready to draw his sword.

· He enjoys spending time with you and would always make time for you. The good thing is that he’s not the jealous type since he’s so friendly with everyone.

Erestor – the ‘tsundere’ simp

· It would take a miracle to get this suborn elf to show the obvious signs of being interested in you.

· You have to read every action carefully to understand the hidden meanings. “You’re an idiot for running in the rain” please be careful when walking in the rain. “You’re way too short to climb the bookshelf, are you a dwarf?” please ask me for assistance, so I can be close to you.

· He has a way with words that only Glorfindel and Elrond can understand. Heck, they’re the only two who are aware of his crush on you, it’s the golden-haired Lord who would give his friend a push.

· Erestor tries his damn hardest to not treat you any different from the others, but when he sees others approaching you, asking for your hand or gifting you trinkets. Jealousy is his favourite colour unbeknownst to him.

· Because of this, it would only fuel him to act on his emotions a little bit openly. Before he wasn’t fancy walking around Imladris with you, but now he is. If he didn’t use to gift you trinkets, now he was, but secretly.

· It would be the twins or Glorfindel who would point out that Erestor acts differently around you in comparison to everyone else. This just makes him roll his eyes fifty ways.

· “I don’t feel anything for them, I treat them the same as I do the rest of you.” With a tint of blush on his cheeks because it’s not like he scolds you when you mess up his papers or interrupt him, unlike the others.

· Whenever he’s around you, he’s a lot more relaxed even though to any onlooker, he wears the same irritated and annoyed look.

Elrohir – the ‘gentleman’ simp

· Between him and his twin, he’s all the more subtle about his approach to swooning you and he takes after his father and mother.

· He’s a mother hen and breaks character whenever you’re injured or require assistance. Always hovering in the background with the most exasperated worried face ever.

· Quick to assist you with the activity you’re performing, even if he doesn’t have a single clue about how to operate, he’ll sit back and look on. He’ll only join if you offer to teach him – he refuses to make a fool of himself.

· Very subtle with his gestures – doesn’t rush to touch you unless you want to hold his hand (minus being a mother hen), opens doors and pulls out chairs, and carries all your heavy items.

· Sends you flowers with a poetical note attached ‘To the most beautiful flower of them all’. Whenever he’s kissing your hand, he makes eye contact to ensure that you combust.

· Quick to shoot down any request for courtship and proud to make it clear that he has his eyes on you.

Elladan – the ‘overly enthusiastic’ simp

· He’s like a puppy that wants to be all over you and everywhere with you, and it’s painfully obvious to you and everyone that he’s head over heels.

· He gets up early in the morning just to have you watch him spar shirtless and ogle at him, instead, the poor baby catches a cramp while posing too hard.

· He always has a compliment and praise whenever you meet, and it’s only because he nagged Erestor or his twin for some help.

· You want help, he’s tripping over his feet to rush over to your side to aid. He does get a tad bit insecure that you may see his behaviour as childish since you make him giddy. But since you don’t bring it up, he’s relieved.

· Elladan is the type to stand under your window at one in the morning reciting a poem, he pulled from Erestor, for you with a bouquet of flowers.

· Because he’s young, he’s easily jealous. Thus, he’s going to attempt to be at your side 25/8 to ward off any suitors.

· He loves to hold your hand, the feeling of yours being encased in his makes him fly over the moon.

· You’re the one person capable of making him feel like he’s floating above cloud nine and walking with an angel.

Lindir – the ‘nervous/shy’ simp

· He’s quiet and shy whenever he’s around you – he just can’t believe that he’s in the same room with his crush and breathing the same air as them.

· He will need reassurance beyond reassurance. Everyone would have to give him a great big push to speak to you, and if he does, he’s ready to pass out.

· It takes great effort to get him out of his shell, but since he really wants you to know that he likes you, he’ll try.

· Flowers in his hand as he nervously breaks out sweating while handing them over and telling you how lovely you look. If you decide to return a compliment - congratulation, Lindir’s broken.

· Ask him on a walk and link your elbows with him, he’s going to be stuttering and stammering. His heart is ready to fall out.

· Lindir knows that he isn’t ready to openly confess, so he’ll write poems for you and send them along with flowers to your doorstep and then refuse to show himself to you the next day but watch from a distance as you collect the gift.

· As time progresses, when Lindir realizes that you’re not mocking his nervousness around you, his words become more pronounced, and he’ll become inclined to sing you a song.

· Jealousy is there for Lindir, but he’d be unsure about which approach to use to address the problem.

Masterlist

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freesia-writes · 11 months

Note

From the prompt list

“the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.”

With Echo??? First clone I thought of! Have fun :) can’t wait to read if you decide to write it!

I DID NOT EXPECT TO WRITE THIS MUCH, LOL. Echo pulled a Crosshair! ;) Sheesh.

Echo x GN!Reader Word Count: 3k!! Content: bar fight, first kiss, SW-universe cussing. ;)

You’d gotten quite used to seeing them in Cid’s parlor – a motley crew of bounty hunters or mercenaries or whatever they were. You probably should have known the specifics by now, but they didn’t like to talk about work. And you weren’t paid to talk, you were paid to deliver things without asking questions. So when you found yourself lingering more and more often, lost in conversation with one in particular, you began to wonder if he would be bad for business. Yet somehow, you didn’t care.

Echo was a complete and total enigma – brave and cynical while also radiating warmth and integrity. You had so many questions that you held back, mostly because it wasn’t entirely polite to ask someone you just met why virtually half their body was cybernetic. So you stuck to the usual topics for a while: the local scene of Ord Mantell, the scum and villainy that was everywhere to be found, and random thoughts about the state of the galaxy.

Before long, you were surprised to notice how much you looked forward to your courier assignments that brought you into his vicinity, and you found more and more excuses to have extra time there. Instead of lurking around the other hot spots of underworld business dealings to pick up additional jobs, you’d take him up on his offer for a game of darts or a mug of disgustingly cheap beer in a corner booth. It became difficult to deny the sinking feeling in your heart when you trotted down the stairs into Cid’s and the team was absent on a mission.

But tonight, you were fortunate. The place was bustling – a whole new gang was in town, it seemed, and they were getting along well with the other less-than-respectable locals. The parlor was loud and lively, making it difficult to hear Echo over the incessant talking, scuffling, laughter, and shouting of all the patrons. His squad was enjoying a much-needed day off, scattered about the planet on their own pursuits of refreshment. Tech was working on the ship, Crosshair was seeking blissful solitude somewhere, and Hunter went with Wrecker and Omega on a Mantell Mix pursuit thinly disguised as a supply run.

Echo had chosen to stay here, and you were trying not to read too much into it. But the conversation had been particularly open and honest tonight, and your head was buzzing with the excitement of connection and the general joviality of the bar. Your mouth hung open slightly as he finished his story, finally filling in all of the details of how he had come to be what and where he was. The last vestiges of pain was receding from his face after having recounted his entire horrid ordeal, and you couldn’t help but place a hand over his after he downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass on the table. The sudden intimacy caught his attention, and his pale brown eyes were large as he regarded you beneath the bluish glow of the neon lights.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, pulling your hand back. “I just… can’t believe it all. You’ve been through so much.” Your words fell out quickly as you tried to move past the potentially awkward moment, but Echo stared at the table, at his own hand where yours had rested just a moment ago.

“Yeah,” he said absently, not meeting your gaze. “Not how I would have scripted it, that’s for sure.” He appeared to be deep in thought, sharp brows drawing together over his luminous eyes. When he finally did look up, he appeared to be brimming with something… a question, a realization… and he slowly opened his mouth to speak.

CRASH!

A glass bottle shattered against the wall above the two of you, causing you to yelp and fling your arms over your head as liquid and pieces rained down. The table scraped loudly as Echo flew to his feet, hawkishly raking his eyes over the crowd. But there was no question where the disturbance had come from – a brawl had broken out across the room, and the shouting was growing louder as two entire groups immediately jumped into a conflict started by just two individuals.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said urgently, pulling on his arm as you stood beside him. You knew when it was wise to make yourself scarce after having been caught in the crossfire more often than you’d like. These sorts of crowds were irrationally unpredictable and predictably irrational. Echo cast you a glance for a moment before turning back to the aggravated group, keeping his eye on them as they swung at each other and crashed into tables nearby. He seemed torn, giving you a quick nod but then muttering under his breath.

“They’re gonna tear the whole place up…”

Cid was nowhere to be seen, and other patrons were being dragged into the fight as it grew and grew. Tables were turning, glasses smashing, and it was all threatening to melt into utter chaos when suddenly a series of live blaster bolts exploded against the ceiling in rapid-fire succession. It was enough noise and light to catch everyone’s attention for a moment, allowing for a very temporary pause as Echo’s voice boomed across the room.

“Get out!” he shouted, standing on the seat next to you, blasters in hand. “Take this kriffing garbage somewhere else!” You were in shock, watching the various reactions across the faces before you. A good few of them took the opportunity to do just that, making their getaway before it escalated any further. But a few hard-headed beefcakes threw a couple more punches before advancing toward Echo.

“Come on,” you said fearfully, pulling at his arm again as he stepped down beside you in a wide, prepared stance.

“Yeah, listen to your tasty little friend,” the leader of the group teased, “Or we might have to teach both of you a lesson.” Echo bristled, head lowering slightly, and you could feel the rage emanating off of him.

“Don’t,” you pleaded, feeling frantic.

“Can’t turn away now,” Echo responded without looking away from the few hooligans with smug grins on their faces, drawing closer with every step. Your heart was pounding in your chest, mouth completely dry at the thought of him getting hurt, even though you knew he put his life on the line on a regular basis. You began looking around for something, anything that might change the course of action. But then it all happened at once.

Two of them leapt at Echo simultaneously, but his quick dodge left them running into each other. He rushed the third with his head down, plowing into his chest and smashing him into the wall behind. His head cracked against the stone loudly, and he sank to the floor unconscious. The others were back on their feet though, fists swinging in messy anger. Echo blocked one punch, landing a blow of his own and spinning the assailant to twist his arm up behind his back before squeezing the trigger on his blaster to hit the other one squarely in the chest with a bright blue stun ray.

A squawk of pain escaped the first and he dropped his weight to the side, pulling Echo down with him as he freed his arm. He leapt up in a flash, aiming a kick that caught Echo in the ribs as he scrambled to his own feet. The sound was sickening, and the breathless grunt that left his lips made you feel his pain in your own stomach. But he moved impossibly fast, ducking another swing and landing a rapid one-two punch that had his opponent spinning. A quick lean followed by a powerful kick sent the other man crashing through another table where he landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, unmoving except for the occasional squirm.

Echo was breathing hard, looking around quickly at any other potential attackers. But the rest of the crowd had either cleared out or was composed of the few remaining stragglers that were doing their best to maintain the semblance of normalcy as they drinked and chatted uneasily. He clutched a hand to his ribs, wincing with a scowl on his face, and you were by his side in an instant.

“It’s fine,” he said automatically as you touched his shoulder, face radiating concern and affection that you just couldn’t hide anymore. You were relieved that he was alright, and as your pulse slowly returned to normal, you realized you were also completely in awe of his capability in a way that felt like more than just… awe… You were trying to find the words

But you were interrupted by an angry-sounding tromping down the stairs from the street above, a sickening feeling rising in your stomach. As you saw a whole group of those same troublemakers from before, you realized who was associated with whom, and it was definitely time to go. You grabbed Echo’s arm, pulling him with surprising force toward Cid’s office. As he assessed the situation, you could see the indignation and anger on his face, but he ultimately allowed you to pull him away. When the office door whooshed shut behind you, you frantically tapped on the keypad to lock it from the inside.

“I know you could take them all,” you began, turning around to face him. He was standing, but leaning on the edge of Cid’s desk, face grumpy as he rubbed a hand across his ribs. “But it’s not worth it. There’s an endless supply of idiocy like that around here – you’re going to put a target on your back.”

“It’s just ridiculous that–” came his angry reply, but you stepped closer, cupping his cheek with a suddenness that surprised yourself.

“I know,” you repeated, softly this time as his exhilarating proximity registered in your brain and body. “Sorry…” you admitted, casting about for words, “I just…” You faltered, trying to explain something you were only just now fully realizing for yourself. “Are your ribs broken?”

The change of subject took his attention for a moment, and he felt the ridges and grooves with tentative fingers. He breathed in slowly, flinching when his lungs expanded to a certain point, and slowly let it out, raising his eyes to yours. “Maybe a little crack,” he said, the bitterness in his voice unfettered by the waves of pain.

“You get into fights often?” you asked, lowering your hand from his cheek to rest on his shoulder.

“Not if I don’t have to,” he answered, and you arched an eyebrow in response. “Alright, I know I didn’t have to say anything, but… it’s just not right…” His mutter trailed off as he shrugged, turning away in what might have been shame. You felt your heart swell in your chest at his sense of integrity, trying to find words to express it without completely giving away the depth of your feelings, but the beep of his comm interrupted your search.

Havoc 4, come in.

He pulled it from his belt, lifting it to his mouth with an apologetic glance to you. “Go ahead.”

There appears to be a significant disturbance in the area of Cid’s parlor, according to the local surveillance network. What is your location?

“Yeah, there was a bar fight, Tech. It’s fine, it’s over now.”

That is not what I asked.

“I’m at Cid’s,” Echo snapped, rolling his eyes at the pert voice on the line. “I told you, it’s fine.”

The comm was silent for a moment, and you met Echo’s gaze with a small, compassionate smile.

Understood. The ship is located in its usual docking bay, should anyone there require medical attention.

A click and a beep signaled the disconnect, and the smirk on Echo’s face had you puzzled for a moment.

“What?” you asked, unable to hold it back.

“‘S just karking annoying when he knows more than he should,” he grumbled, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. He sighed, looking up at you as though he were fully realizing your softness, your lingering touches, and your blatant concern and admiration. He opened his mouth for a moment as though trying to decide what to say, then slowly closed it, regarding you evenly. You swallowed, suddenly wildly aware of every single muscle in your body, and tried to arrange your features into a neutral expression.

“”What?” Now it was his turn to ask, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head at you.

“What?” you echoed, eyes wide and innocent as you looked at him with the look of one accused.

“What… uh… What are you… so concerned… about?” The smirk was fading into a slight insecurity of his own. You took a deep breath, cheeks flushed red as your heart continued to race. Something about the thrill of it all and the sudden vulnerability in this private room had you reeling, with long-restrained feelings brimming at the surface and threatening to spill over.

“You,” you whispered, lowering your eyes and chewing on your thumb nail. “I care… about you.”

His own heart skipped a beat at your admission – something he had suspected, no – hoped for – yet felt entirely unworthy to believe. He rose to his feet, a cringe flashing across his face before he became still again, staring intently at your eyes. “You do?” he asked, voice husky and quiet now, disarmed entirely.

His tone was soothing and inviting, and the thinly-veiled vulnerability was entirely irresistible. Buoyed by the adrenaline of the evening and the thrill of the situation before you, you took a step closer, lifting your other hand to rest on his chest. Leaning in slightly, you touched your forehead to his, smiling at his sharp inhale and the subsequent closing of his eyes that completely melted your heart. You were helplessly entranced, and you brushed your fingers along his jaw before resting them on the back of his shoulder as you pulled yourself close.

Your lips met with a feather-light touch that sent sparks flying immediately. Your heart thrilled at the sensation, body exploding with euphoric tingles, and you pulled back quickly, keeping your foreheads together but remaining frozen in joyous disbelief otherwise. He let out a slow breath, as if soaking up every single second, then stepped back a few inches, opening his eyes to gaze at you in awe and disbelief and wonder and delight.

“Sorry if that was… uh…” you began, but he shook his head immediately, curling his fingers gently under your chin and touching the pad of his thumb to your lips to silence the rest.

“It wasn’t,” he said, eyes intent. “Unless… It was a mistake, or–”

“No no no,” you laughed, standing slightly straighter as he dropped his hand from your lips to your waist. “Why would it be a mistake?” He shrugged, casting his gaze off to the side with a sudden expression of sheepish disdain that you were wildly curious. Giving him a slight nudge, you pressed, “Echo?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, unwillingly meeting your eyes. “I just… didn’t think people saw me that way…” He fell silent, the magnitude of his words settling on your heart, heavy with compassion. You stepped back in, nestling yourself against his chest, and brushed your lips against his cheek as you whispered near his ear.

“Let me show you how I see you.”

In an uncharacteristic burst of courage, you looped both arms around his neck, bringing your lips to his with ardent intentionality. He stiffened for a split second before relaxing into your embrace, sliding his own arm around your waist and digging the other into your hair at the base of your neck. You felt as though you could swoon as he held you so effortlessly, and you tilted your head as you moved your mouth against his, deepening the kiss with a whisper-soft sigh. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested a hand on it, feeling relieved that it matched your own frantic pulse rate.

You kissed again and again, changing the angle, adding the tiny stroke of a tongue or the hungry tug of a lip. He seemed to grow before you, his presence expanding with an alluring mix of dumbfounded surprise that framed a strength, resolve, and passion that made your knees weak. His hands roved gently across your body, caressing you against him as his open--mouthed kisses grew messier. The sensation of his lips on yours, his taste filling your mind and sparkling with the sensation of his hands gliding along your skin… you had a fleeting concern that you may have died and gone to heaven.

But the dreamy reverie was broken suddenly as he pulled back, breathing hard and sucking in air as though his life depended on it. He drew the back of one hand across his mouth, one last shuddering breath escaping before he settled into a quiet, blissful smile.

“Didn’t think people saw you that way…” you scoffed in playful jest, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“Well, I’ve been somewhat convinced that it’s untrue,” he returned evenly, the suggestive smolder in his gaze sending a warmth blossoming between your legs.

“Only somewhat?: you repeated with a grin.

“Somewhat,” he answered, cupping your face and leaning in again.

@wolffegirlsunite @littlefeatherr @arctrooper69 @dystopicjumpsuit @foreverdaydreamingxo @stunkbiggu @mxkyrie @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @littlemissbshine @dreamie411 @skellymom @dukeoftheblackstar @clio3kantarella @goblininawig @the-hexfiles @1vlouds @sunshinesdaydream @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @ughhhhfoff @coraex @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @moonlightwarriorqueen @gt13tbbart @523rdrebel @ghostperson69 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @secondaryrealm @rain-on-kamino @hellhound5925 @thew0nderer2342 @dangraccoon @sev-on-kamino @cloneloverrrrr @kashasenpai @kimiheartblade @mooncommlink @stardusthuntress @starstofillmydream @littlemissmanga @eyecandyeoz @dhawerdaverd @ladylucksrogue @thiswitchloves9904

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#spicy echo #first kiss #echo fic #tbb echo #echo one shot #echo fluff #tbb fluff #tbb one shot #star wars fluff #clone fluff

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why-what-no · 2 years

Text

Pretty When You Cry

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst

Summary: Billy’s girlfriend gets tired of him always abandoning her to hang out with his jock friends. Based on the song Pretty When You Cry by Lana Del Ray

Requested by: My bae @mothshabby

It was a beautiful night as (Y/N) stepped out of her friend’s car, stars shining so bright like they were watching her. Her shoes crunching over the gravel as she got out of the car.

“You want me to come with you?” Nancy asked, brow knitted in concern. (Y/N) avoided eye contact, knowing that the pity on Nancy’s face would make her cry.

She shook her head.

“Alright. Steve’s there if you get into trouble , I’ll wait here until you’re back.”

She was always so grateful for Nancy. Even when the girl was a lot, the Wheeler girl was the best friend anyone could have. And (Y/N) was holding that thought in her mind like a shield as she walked towards the bonfire party that the jocks were holding after their game’s big win.

She could spot Billy fairly easily. Glowing gold in the warm light of the fire, standing and laughing with his friends. His wild laugh like a lion’s roar, his mane of blond hair blowing in the wind.

The sight of him made her chest constrict, even more so when he spotted her and grinned. Billy shoved past his friends and made his way to her. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?”

He knew something was wrong when he leaned forward to kiss her and she stepped back.

“Did you forget, Billy?” Her voice was soft, a waver in it. She was trying to pull on her anger, hoping that anger would make it easier to talk than sadness. “You said we were going out for dinner after your game?”

His face dropped, realizing what he had done. Around them, the basketball players were laughing and play fighting. Unaware of what was happening between the lovers. The fraying relationship.

When (Y/N) and Billy got together, she always felt like his whole world. She was his girl, he told her everything. So many days they spent together, holding each other close.

But Billy had been getting distant, knowing he had her so forgetting he needed to work to keep her.

Plans got cancelled hours before they were supposed to happen, leaving (Y/N) all dressed up with nowhere to go. She’d spend so much time waiting for him only for him to never come through.

And she couldn’t do it any longer.

“I’m sorry princess.” Billy was trying to make it right. “Let me get my stuff, we can go to dinner right now.”

“No. I wanna go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He replied

“Not with you.”

Her boyfriend looked properly scared. “(Y/N).” He only used her proper name when he was being serious. “I’m sorry, I… I can make this better.”

She shook her head, picking at her nails. “I think it’s better if you don’t. This relationship clearly isn’t important to you.”

“No!” Billy denied that quickly, drawing a few glanced from his friends. Their attention was retaken by the party moments after, however. “I need you, babe.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” (Y/N)‘s voice was harsher, her mind made up. “Not when you keep leaving me for your friends.”

She didn’t listen to the rest of his excuses, turning on her heeling and walking away from him. Walking away like she should have done earlier.

It was only when she got back to the car that she started crying. Nancy had her arm around (Y/N), saying reassuring things that the heartbroken girl could barely hear.

While she finally wiped her eyes after her sobbing, (Y/N) took the time to examine herself in the mirror. Billy always said that she looked so pretty, his pretty darling. She wondered if he’d think she looked pretty while crying that she was. Maybe that was why he kept hurting her.

Maybe it was because he thought she was pretty when she cried.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #st #st x reader #st imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things billy #stranger things billy x reader #stranger things billy Hargrove #stranger things billy Hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove #Billy x reader #Billy #st billy x reader #st billy #st billy Hargrove x reader #st billy Hargrove

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chinchillamajor · 11 months

Text

Reflections From A Barroom Mirror (Star Simon/Bad End AUs - drabble ficlet)

Star Simon finds himself back in a world he's already been to, once.

Oodles of my highest kudos to @mushroomnoodles for creating this little world (and so many others!) for Star Simon to be able to visit. I write a heck of a lot faster than I draw, so please excuse the lack of doodles for this one.

Trigger warnings: referenced mass death/catastrophe (Bad End pregnant Simon AU); implied but not shown Simon mpreg; alcohol use/alcoholism; death from alcohol poisoning mentioned.

Join me on the other side of the readmore, if you want. I can't say it won't hurt, but... I think it's still worth it. :3

"Haven't we been to this world before?" he asked Dandelion, who glowed faintly, saying nothing in reply. "Something about it feels familiar."

---

Star was confused at first, when he hopped through that night's dream portal.

He looked around the bar he'd appeared inside. Then stopped, recognizing the man slumped at the row of seats facing the bartender, along the far wall. Noticing, with a wince, the four-eyed baby wriggling quietly in the stroller parked beside his seat.

Star walked up to this alternate Simon, and took a seat on the stool next to him. "Water. No ice," he told the bartender, who looked back and forth between the two nigh-identical men, then shrugged, and got out a new glass.

This world's Simon didn't seem to have registered anyone was there next to him, until Star spoke.

"Hello, again," Star said. "This is strange... I don’t think I've ever been sent to a world *twice.* Much less where a version of our kiddo's already been born."

Simon raised his head away from his two bent fists he'd been resting it upon, blinking at Star blearily.

"I guess Dandelion figured you might need some extra help," Star added with a shrug. He squinted a little behind his glasses, trying to remember. "You... had a seal put on you, didn’t you? And Princess Bubblegum was building a dome for you, for when you were gonna have your kiddo?"

"Yeah... Sounds like me," Simon began, his words sliding together from too much alcohol. "For everyone's SAFETY."

He gave a dragging, ugly guffaw, but there was no humor in his voice. "Oh, glob, all we were trying to do was keep the Candy Kingdom *safe...*"

Star chose his words carefully. "If it would hurt to bring it up, you don’t have to answer, but... can I ask what happened?"

"Hurt? If it'd-- *HURT?*" Simon blurted at him in disbelief, and gave another cackle. He called out to the bartender. "This guy's new. Asking if what happened might *hurt."*

He grabbed for the shot glass before him, tossing back what little was left in the glass before clinking it back down onto the bar rail, hard. "Why do you think I'm HERE?"

"Something *bad,* then," Star said with a nod. "I won't push."

"No. No, I *wanna* talk about it. Everyone else is sick of me going on about what happened. But *I* have to live with it in my head, all the time," slurred Simon.

He took a deep breath, then tapped the empty shot glass against the table again, twice. The bartender obeyed the unspoken signal, bringing down a cloudy whisky bottle to refill his glass.

"When I woke up... there was my kiddo, there in my arms. Tiny, and wiggly, and *warm*... warmer than I ever figured anyone could be. They gave a little cry, and then..."

Tears began to pinprick behind Simon's glasses, as he began trembling at the memory. "Then, I realized, how QUIET it was. Besides that cry, there wasn’t any sound. Anywhere. In the middle of an entire metropolis. Just the wind.

"I called out for Marcy, and... Marcy was *there,* but..." He shook his head aimlessly, then tossed back the rest of the whiskey. "She gave up *everything,* just to try to help ME. They *all* did. And now... now they're all DEAD, and it's all my fault..."

Star said nothing, as tears began wobbling down his fellow Simon's face.

"There aren't any words for a hurt like that," Star finally said. "And I won't pretend there are."

"Then you're ahead of most of 'em out there," Simon said bitterly, flailing an arm towards the rest of the room. "Don't think I can't hear them talk. There goes Old Man Simon, off to the bar, again. Even takes his kid with him, sometimes. How pathetic can you get."

"Hey." was all Star said, holding out both hands. "You need one of..."

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Simon was already tackling him, hugging Star like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry. Oh my glob, you're being so nice to me, and here I'm just getting my messed-upness all over *you,* too, I'm so sorry..." Simon blubbered through his tears.

"You're hurting," Star replied, patting Simon's back. He could smell the twinge of unknown days with no showers, through a sharp liquor stench. "I can't say I've been where you're at, exactly. But there's a very similar city I can see, on the map *I've* pieced together."

He waited until Simon pulled away before asking, "You mind if I tell you a story?"

Simon snuffled, then said, "Go for it."

"Thank you," said Star, bowing to his doppelganger, and began.

"His name was 'Al,' he told me. It'd been a few days since he’d been kicked out by his parents, for falling in love with a boy instead of a girl."

Star shook his head at the memory. "I would've done *anything* to help him. So I did. I used my magic on him. Scribbled out a sigil, burned it... and gave him a bit of my luck."

He paused a moment before he continued. "Al was so happy, when he called me, later that night. Said he'd won five hundred dollars, from the lottery ticket he bought."

Simon blinked, not understanding. "So you helped him?"

"I thought I did," Star replied calmly. He glanced away as he added, "The next call I got was from the police. They'd found the business card I gave Al, in his pockets. He drank himself to death, that same night."

"Ah," Simon said, and cleared his throat, sitting suddenly ramrod-upright on his bar stool. "That’s... yeah, that's a lot."

"It was," Star replied, nodding. "It's not the same as what you've been through. But it was enough to stop me from using my magic on anyone but myself, ever again."

He clasped a hand over Simon's. "That’s the thing, though. You can be doing everything right, have the absolute best of intentions in mind... and still get the worst possible result."

Simon's lip wibbled, as he looked Star in the eyes. It was like seeing into the other man's unprotected soul.

"That doesn't mean you're a bad person," he could hear Star saying. "Sometimes, that's just how life *happens.* And you keep going, anyhow."

Simon's gaze flicked away, not sure why he felt so intimidated by this man who looked so much like him.

"You're ME. Aren't you," he stated.

"I'm a *version* of you. One who considers himself to be very, very lucky." Star sipped at his water thoughtfully, continuing, "I've had an awful lot of awful things happen in my life, but... there's always something amazing that happens, too. People I meet. Things I learn…"

He set the water glass down, now that it was empty. "It's worth it, I can say. Eventually. Even if it always seems to take longer than it should."

Simon's mouth pursed to a thin line, as he stared into his whiskey glass.

"I won't say it all balances out, but... life sure never gets *boring,* either," Star added. "I have my stories I can tell. Sometimes they help other people know they're not alone. And I'm happy with that."

Star reached for Simon's hand again. "In the grand scheme of things, I may not be able to do much to help anyone out. But. That’s what I can do, so... I try doing it, when I can."

Simon's hands met Star's– both of them, this time, though Simon's were still shaking.

"I offer my little spark to folks's candles. And hope they see the sparkle inside themselves. Enough to keep going."

Simon let Star's words land.

He stared off into space for a few moments, then mumbled, his voice low and wavering, "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don’t have the answer to that. Only *you* do," Star said, looking down at both their empty glasses. "But it looks like you've been hiding from yourself. Maybe for a while now. And you're not going to find any answers at the bottom of that glass, no matter how many times you look."

Star raised an eyebrow, leaning in to add quietly, "I'd know. I had to quit drinking, myself, after my grandmother died, and I got lost for a while. Was way too good at it."

"You got *lost,*" said Simon with a weak chuckle.

"Sure. Everyone does, sometimes. I took the scenic route, for a few years." Star gave Simon's hands a squeeze. "It's never too late to get yourself back on your own path, again."

Simon covered his face with his hands, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

"Not saying it won't be *hard,*" Star pointed out. "Sometimes, getting back from being lost is the hardest thing you'll ever do. But I *do* think it's worth it. From where I'm sitting now, anyhow."

He leaned back upon his seat. "But, I think I've talked long enough."

As Star hopped down from the bar stool, he pointed right at Simon's heart, tapping his stretched-out black sweatervest. "If you don't remember anything else, just know this much… Someone else out there loves you, a whole awful lot. And he hopes you'll get home safe. Whenever that ends up being. I'm not ever gonna grade you. Okay?"

"Okay," Simon repeated, new tears starting down his reddened cheeks. He rubbed his arm over his face, smearing snot all along his shirt sleeve. "Th..thank you."

"Thank you, for listening," Star replied, giving his shoulder one last pat. "I should let you get back to what you were doing. Take care of yourself, and the little one when you can, okay?"

Simon watched Star walk out from the bar. There was a flash from down the hallway, and then… the sounds around him came back to his attention.

The bartender, choosing not to comment on whatever had just happened, only pointed to Simon's shot glass, and offered, "Another one?"

"Uh," Simon replied. "You know, I… I think I'm good for the day. I'll have some water, please.

"Er. No ice," he added quickly.

The bartender obeyed with a nod.

#star simon au #simon petrikov mpreg #cw implied mpreg #cw death #cw alcohol #cw bad end #cuz that's how things go sometimes

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itadore-you · 2 years

Text

'ᴴᵃⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱˢᵗˡᵉᵗᵒᵉ/ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ, ʸᵉᵃʰ/ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ'

It's cold outside, but that's nothing to stop you and Yuuji from enjoying your winter holidays together. So why not take the fun indoors, and see what lies in store?

P.S: A drawing I did inspired this fanfic, so if you're a fan of this header, go check it out in full here!

pairing: aged up bf! itadori yuuji x fem!reader w/c: 4.3k t/w's: there's some fluff to begin with, but smut is included, so mdni! (includes: food play, oral (m!receiving), riding etc)

Nothing could compare to Yuuji’s touch, especially in the cold of the Winter, during the Christmas season. Through the crunch of snow, when he tried to reach for you as you accidentally slipped - resulting in both of you laughing as you ended up a tangled mess on the ground, holding hands as you made snow angels. He wound his woolen scarf around you afterward, reminding you that "we haven't built a snowman yet, so don't get cold", as he shuffled around collecting the freshly fallen snow, and of course, you went to join him.

"Don't they look amazing?" Yuuji's eyes shone upon admiring the result of both your hard work, the smiling snowman. He slung his arm over your shoulder to pull you close.

"Definitely," you agree, smiling up at your boyfriend. "But I just need to tweak a couple of things-"

You reached for the dotted 'mouth' of the snowman, spacing out a final pebble to perfection. "There."

"I don't see the difference."

"Me neither, really. I was messing with you."

With a laugh, both of you started heading back to the warmth of indoors, gloved hand in other gloved hand.

"We forgot a carrot for the snowman nose!"

—---------

So after a quick rendezvous with your snowman, the two of you returned home. The doorway was decorated with coloured fairy lights and best of all, a sprig of mistletoe which you eagerly redirected Yuuji’s attention to. Earlier in the month, he had cheekily taped it to your front door to use it as an excuse to smother you in kisses, often the perfect segway to your bedroom activities soon after.

Taking your face into his hands, he grants your wish with a quick kiss on your lips, which tingles from the sensitivity of the cold. He draws back, noticing how much you’re shivering, and ushers you into the warm living room, the electrical heater already switched on. Both of you are then nested on the couch, Yuuji holding your hands in an attempt to warm them.

"We really should've stayed out for less time, I forgot how cold it's gotten recently."

"Aw, but it was worth it, y/n!" he pouted at you, clenching your hand a little tighter as he gave you a tender kiss on the cheek. "And I would do it with you all over again."

You could feel your cheeks glow at his sweet, affectionate words.

“Love you, Yuuji. Thank you for always knowing how to warm me up.”

“I love you too, baby. To the moon and back.”

Yuuji places a kiss on your knuckles, with an earnest, lovesick expression fixed on his face.

Even his lips were warm against your skin, so warm that you just wanted to feel his mouth against yours, kissing you slowly and with the same passion he always had when intimate with you. Yuuji knows that you’re giving him that look, the one with the eyes that silently beg and beckon for him to get closer, for him to kiss you all over and satiate your desires. He knows what you want, because every time you give him that look, you can see his eyes are hooded with lust; he’s rendered speechless as his hands start to move on their own and caress your body. It reminds you of one time that Yuuji’s mind had clouded with thoughts of you to the point that he actually drooled a little, eyes wide as he got lost in his daydreams.

The familiar tension between you diffuses as Yuuji pulls you from the sofa instead.

“We were gonna bake some gingerbread and cookies, right? Lemme go get my apron on.”

“O-oh, yeah, sure,” you reply, left a little dumbfounded. It was a bit odd, after all, from him. Once he was turned on, usually it got difficult for Yuuji to restrain himself.

The ingredients are already lined up on the counter from earlier: rolling pin; shape cutters; piping bag as well as bowls and whisk at the ready. You get started with the cookies, knowing that Yuuji prefers to do the gingerbread using the recipe handed down to him by his grandfather. He always loved cooking and baking for you, always excitedly telling you new variations he had discovered and feeding you his newest creation from the kitchen. By the time you’re adding the chocolate chips to the dough, Yuuji’s hurriedly coming back down the stairs tying the back of his ‘hot stuff coming through’ apron that you bought him as a gag gift last year.

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he compliments you, hands holding your waist as he presses a kiss to your neck. “And I meant that for the cookies too, of course.”

You’re left flustered as Yuuji goes to start on the gingerbread, whistling a festive tune as he settles into the familiar rhythm of baking. Even forgetting your own cookies mid-roll as you watch your boyfriend fluidly whisk the ingredients with his strong arms, cutely sticking out his tongue from the side of his mouth as he concentrates.

“Y/n? Do you want any help with your cookies?”

You hadn’t even realised how intensely you were staring at your boyfriend, and accidentally blurt out ‘yes’ to his innocent question. It turns out to be a blessing in disguise, watching the emphasised veins in Yuuji’s arms as he puts his characteristic strength into rolling out your dough. Even under his apron and loose shirt, you can see the hint of his biceps as they flex underneath. Truly a sight to see.

Eventually, you regain a hold of yourself, reminding yourself that perhaps it wouldn’t be so sanitary to pounce on your boyfriend and be bent over the flour-covered counter, next to the baked goods that you were planning to not just eat later, but also give out to friends and family. Taking hold of the dog paw-shaped cookie cutter, it feels like a warning from Megumi himself to not follow your temptations. Yuuji returns to the beginnings of his gingerbread dough with a smile, while you line your tray for the cookie shapes.

Yuuji’s fast. Not just in terms of his sprinting speed, but your well-practised baker of a boyfriend already has his gingerbread men lined up on another tray, ready to be put into the oven beside yours. He checks that a timer has been set for the next 15 minutes, and is already pouring the icing sugar into a bowl to make the cream cheese frosting.

“Let me help, Yuu,” you plead. “I’ve got the butter right here.”

“Sure thing, baby!” He adds it to the mixture, whipping all the ingredients together. It makes your heart beat just that little bit faster as you watch him again.

“You have a try!” He holds the bowl out to you, a kind grin on his face.

As much as you love watching him have all the fun, why not have your turn? You thank him as you take hold of the bowl, scraping down the sides and thoroughly whisking to the best of your ability. Meanwhile, Yuuji takes a moment to check the oven, relieved to see that nothing’s burning, then turns his attention back to you.

“Wanna have a taste?”

You’ve got Yuuji’s head spinning. When you were busy whisking the frosting, some of it had escaped the bowl and splashed onto your chest, which you promptly wiped off with your finger. And now you’re licking it off your finger, the same look as before more prominent in your expression and he wants you, needs you so bad it hurts him. He grips the counter, leaning against it for support from the sudden loss of all senses. You giggle, telling him how good it tastes. You know that you drive him crazy.

“Y/n,” His voice weak, “You missed a bit right-uh, right there.”

You hum innocently, wiping off the stray drips of frosting from lower down your chest. Instead of holding it out to Yuuji so that he can lick it off of your finger, you wipe it onto his cheek and it’s straight-up erotic how you run your tongue along the streak of frosting.

“Couldn't help myself,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth whilst you wrap your arms around his neck, and comb your fingers through the bottom of his undercut fondly. Yuuji can’t help letting out a soft groan - he can’t seem to help himself either as he quickly hoists you onto the counter. He collects the remaining frosting left on you in one deft swipe of a finger and pops it into his mouth. Before you know it, he’s leaning into you again as he shares the taste of the sweet icing, slipping his tongue into your mouth and licking sensually as your tongues find one another. You’re both lost in the kiss, hands now gripping at his locks of fluffy pink hair to force him closer, and Yuuji’s palms dust the sides of your waist with remnants of flour and muscovado sugar. In his eyes, you’ve become his sweet little treat, and he can’t wait to unwrap you as he fights with himself to not raise the hem of your shirt further.

It takes a while before you finally break apart, still connected by a trail of spittle. Heaving chests and wandering hands freeze once the timer beeps, bringing you both back into the presence of the moment before time stood still. They do say that time flies when you’re having fun, but it’s not fair that the fifteen minutes cut right into the middle of a steamy make-out session with your boyfriend. You wanted him all to yourself for far longer.

Yuuji looks so cute when he’s dishevelled, mind scattered as he searches for the oven gloves that happen to be right beside you. Mindlessly you’re kicking your legs against the counter as you watch him, amused for several seconds until you hand it out to him, and he facepalms at his forgetfulness.

“Good thing we timed the oven - would’ve definitely burnt otherwise,” Yuuji sighs in relief. The baking tray births a plume of steam as he places it on the countertop, the sweet-smelling air not only filling your kitchen but invading all your senses, causing your mouth to water at the notion of such yummy food. Seeing the freshly baked goods adds to the desire, like an aphrodisiac, the way how it makes the blood rush through your veins at the sight. Reaching out a hand to try one, Yuuji stops you by shifting the tray away from you.

“You need to wait for them to cool down first, baby!” His warm brown eyes soften as he apologises to you. “We gotta decorate them too!”

“But don’t we have to wait for them to cool before that, Yuu? That'll take so long...”

“Yeah, exactly. Y/n, I know something extra for us to do to pass the time.”

The implication behind Yuuji’s words leaves you rigid. He’s taking hold of your hands again, the same beautiful smile on his face as ever, but mischief dancing in his eyes as he gazes at you. His voice is pitched slightly lower when he continues,

“Is it okay if we take this to the bedroom, cutie?”

—---------------------------

Sweet and spicy, like the smell of the ginger and sugar long forgotten in the kitchen, love is the aroma that fills all your senses; it’s the warmth that cloaks your cold hands and cheeks when you’re with your boyfriend, Yuuji.

“You need to close your eyes, baby, or it won’t be a surprise anymore!” He whines as you sit impatiently, longing to peek from behind your hands.

“I’m not looking Yuu, I swear!”

Yuuji hums doubtfully, and the mysterious rustling sounds continue. What was he planning for you? Curiosity was a dangerous plague, deadly when paired with time.

“Just a few more seconds, and - there! Okay, you can open your eyes now. Happy holidays, my love.”

Before you stands a shirtless Yuuji, a proud grin on his face. You’ve always loved eyeing his muscled torso, feeling his abs flex underneath your fingers. This time Yuuji’s firm chest is tightly restrained by a satin red ribbon, the smooth fabric shining against his skin, his pectorals straining with every movement against the ribbon. At the centre of his torso, the ribbon is tied into a pretty bow, focussing your gaze further down his impressive body. The top button of Yuuji’s trousers is left unbuttoned, exposing his enticing V-line even more. The expanse of his skin is a beautiful landscape, one which you could stare at for hours and touch for longer.

Your hands are experienced adventurers, well acquainted with Yuuji’s body, and your eyes an expert on every single feature. It’s almost crazy how you missed it the first time - slightly above the left side of Yuuji’s chest, faint marker outlines spell out one word which makes your heart race like it never has before.

‘Yours’

Yours.

Yuuji. Itadori Yuuji, Your boyfriend. The love of your life.

The five letters spelled out what felt like a pledge to eternity itself. A whisper in the dark of night between two lovers as they held each other tight. Seeing the word written on Yuuji, the same letters had tattooed themselves on the inner walls of your heart for him in return.

“You like it?” Yuuji says quietly. “I left you some other gifts under the tree for later, but I also wanted to be your surprise this Christmas.”

He notices that your eyes are still tracing the letters on his chest, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

“It rubbed off onto my shirt a bit earlier, but yeah… I’m all yours, y/n.”

Actions speak louder than words, a virtue that you hold true as you kiss him deeply, tugging the waistband of his trousers so he can remove them for you. Yuuji obliges happily, leaving the bottoms crumpled on your bedroom floor. In his excitement he kisses you roughly, the kiss becoming messy as your mouths move against each other desperately. Soon enough he’s helping you out of your clothes, eager to feel your bare skin touching his. Yuuji’s boxers are clearly tented when he leans back on his haunches to take in the sight of you; he was clearly unprepared to see that you are wearing a new set of lingerie to drive him wild. His eyes dart between the red ribbon sitting in the centre of your lacy bra, to the straps of your matching garter that extend down your thigh. You were supposed to be unwrapping him like a Christmas present, but the roles are reversed as Yuuji drinks in the sight of you before him, toying with the strap of your bra on your shoulder and running his hands all over the rest of your sexy underwear.

“You like it?”

You’re repeating the same words back to him now, a coy smile on your face. And similar to your previous response, Yuuji’s body speaks for him loud and clear. His erection has escaped the confines of his boxers, the tip now visible as it strains toward his abdomen. He sounds winded as a ‘yes’ escapes his lips, and he pins your body down to the mattress completely to envelop you in another deep kiss, grinding himself against you. Both of you are moaning as your bodies move against each other in synergy, consumed by one another in the throes of passion. Completely breathless, he finally pulls away to gasp for air, and your eyes are encaptured by the movement of Yuuji’s chest as if he were in a debt to oxygen.

“Wait… I wanted to try out something,” Yuuji pants, reaching over to a can of whipped cream that somehow made its way to the bedroom in advance (probably when Yuuji told you to close your eyes). “I liked what you did earlier, and-”

His sentence trails into thin air as he sprays it onto you, along the slope of your neck. It’s a bit cold, but Yuuji’s warm tongue seeks to resolve the sensation as he laps at the cream fervently. From the way he’s sucking on your neck, you’re sure that there’ll probably be a mark in its place tomorrow. Yuuji feels inspired to spray more whipped cream onto your body, now shaping the swirls of cream into a copycat sweetheart neckline, above your bra. Your breath is caught in your throat as he slowly licks it all up, tongue following the line of cream fluidly. But his show of patience is only feigned for a brief amount of time; he slips down the straps of your bra and lets you sit up a little so that he can unclip the back. Yuuji is well trained, easily detaching the clasp closure as he has practiced on you many times before when he used to fiddle with the contraption for ages until you would just do it for him, or he’d rip it off of you in frustration, promising to buy you a new one later.

Now he’s spraying the cream around each nipple, licking it up after and wrapping his tongue around each sensitive nub. It’s driving you absolutely crazy, making you moan with each lick he layers onto your tits. He would happily continue sucking and licking at your chest if you let him, but as you reach for the can of whipped cream, you get a new idea.

“Did I do something wrong? Why’d you want me to st-, o-oh-”

Yuuji moans mid-sentence as you start to slather the whipped cream all over his buff chest, unravelling the ribbon so that you can do it properly. He lays back on his elbows so you can sit up and start to lick all over him, and he loves it, low hums escaping from deep within his chest as he tries to hold back his moans of pleasure.

As you trail the squirty cream down from Yuuji’s chest and abs, you near the waistband of his boxer briefs. Ignoring his large erection is difficult, especially as Yuuji shifts his hips closer to you, desperate for your touch. You opt to tease him for a little longer before you eventually give in to his desires, spraying cream along his sculpted v-line, and your tongue darts out to lick up your mess.

Yuuji unconsciously starts to guide your head toward his dick, groaning lowly in anticipation. He doesn’t mean to do it, retracting his hand soon after and starting to mumble his apology. But he’s back to begging for your touch when you take his dick out of his underwear, pumping it slowly. It’s so large that your hand just about wraps around the girth, and when you give it a light squeeze, pre cum beads impatiently at the flushed tip.

You waste no time spraying cream along his length, swirling it around the top of his dick. Yuuji hisses at the cold sensation of the cream on his intimate area. Before you get started licking it off, you squirt your initials onto his chest, smiling.

“You’re all mine, Yuu?”

“Always.”

With his promise, you suddenly go to lick at his leaking tip, then trail your tongue down his dick agonisingly slowly. You repeat on the other side of his cock, preparing yourself to take him into your throat. Several more licks at the very tip of his dick, and Yuuji’s falling apart, legs shaking from how turned on he is. Twisting the base of his shaft heightens his pleasure as you coat his dick in your saliva, even going as far to take him deep into your throat. What doesn’t fit into your mouth you pump with your hand, stimulating him from glans to base. He starts to piston his hips into your mouth frantically, nearing his orgasm.

“Wait, Yuuji,” you plead, hands stroking his thighs. “I wanna ride you.”

He almost cums right there and then, eyes melted into a golden yellow as he looks at you.

Yuuji is already gripping your ass cheeks, steadying you on top of him. You’re grinding onto his hard-on several times, increasingly wet and then he finally pushes into you. Feeling full, you take a moment before you start to rock yourself back and forward on his dick. He tries to crane his neck forward to lick and suck on your nipples as you spray your spit-slicked chest with more whipped cream and he smears the cream onto your skin, quickly returning his hands to your waist to encourage you to move faster.

Short gasps start to sound from you as you ride him, curving your back into the perfect arch so that you can feel his cock even deeper, successfully rubbing against your G-spot over and over. Grinding your hips onto him even harder is your priority - you need to feel all of him inside of you, hitting the sensitive parts of your walls in coordination with your clit rubbing against him, driving you to paradise. Your thighs squeeze against his sides with the building feeling, and Yuuji lets you hold down his arms above his head as you put even more energy into riding him. In your own ecstasy, you can see that he’s getting close too, his face blushing scarlet and eyebrows slanted upward. His large palms then move to cup your ass, and he moves you on his dick to consistently keep fucking you to an orgasm. He fully takes over once your thighs start to tire from holding you up, moving you as if you were completely weightless with those strong arms of his, his natural athleticism revealing itself. Before you know it, a familiar feeling is taking over your senses, making you feel light headed and dizzy with elation. Yuuji’s hips falter and spasm as he sends you to your release, followed by his own shortly after.

After the first few spurts of cum that leave Yuuji’s cock, you think that he’s done and you climb off of him but he keeps going, probably overstimulated as his eyes turn glassy and his body convulses with each twitch of his dick releasing cum. With his final stream of release, he moans loudly, shuddering in relief as his sticky cum strings all over his lower stomach. Yuuji tends to cum a lot, so you already have a towel stashed by your nightstand for him. He’s still a bit disoriented, coming down from his high as he thanks you for cleaning him up, twitching when the material comes into contact with his sensitive cock.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. Swearing comes rarely for Yuuji, the curse word foreign in his mouth, but so hot when he uses it in these rare moments. His mouth hangs open as he breathes, trying to compose himself from all the previous actions.

“Stick out your tongue for me, Yuu.”

You spray the remains of the whipped cream onto his tongue and then press a small kiss to his lips after he swallows. Yuuji’s cheeks blush a little pink, matching his hair. He’s cute, the way how such small acts can make him flustered especially after sex. He entwines his hand with yours as you lie on the bed together, bodies warmly pressed underneath the sheets. You lay there like this for a while, both content in each other’s embrace. Nothing compares to Yuuji’s touch.

“Brat,” A deeper timbre of voice breaks through the comfortable silence, belonging to the mouth that has appeared on Yuuji’s face. “You said you would give me some of the good-tasting food that you made with the woman.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes at Sukuna’s intrusion, getting out of bed with a scowl.

“Stop making it weird for y/n and me! I told you to not disturb us when we’re… y’know!”

“Hi, Sukuna,” you call out to the hangry King of Curses, the mouth on Yuuji’s cheek curling into a grin.

“You. Be a good girl and feed me, now.”

“Sukuna! You can’t talk to my girlfriend like that! And I’m going to get you some now, so shut it!”

Yuuji turns to you after scolding Sukuna, apologising that he will be back soon as he makes his way to the kitchen. You can hear Yuuji continuing to squabble with Sukuna in the kitchen, which makes you giggle as you huddle further into the sheets to try and recover the warmth of Yuuji’s body since he left your side. Getting into a relationship with a vessel for a powerful curse sure sounded a bit intimidating at first, but you had settled into Sukuna’s occasional interruptions by now, as he didn’t seem to be irritated by you and Yuuji too often.

Yuuji reenters the room, plate of your cookies and his gingerbread in hand along with some wet wipes. He’s chewing on one of your cookies, complimenting the gooey chocolate chips that you had added in. Taking one of his gingerbread, it tastes just as perfect as they always are, the mellow ginger flavourful on your tongue.

“We better not get too many crumbs on the bed,” You sigh, biting into another piece of gingerbread. “I could just lie in bed and eat these all day long, they’re amazing.”

Yuuji shakes the container of whipped cream, trying to squirt the very last of it onto his cookie and pulling a face when the aerosol pitifully releases tiny drops of cream, clearly at its demise.

“I need to get you all cleaned up anyway, cutie,” He frowns at the empty can before throwing it into the bin across the room. “Don’t need any more of that whipped cream when I have you, just as sweet.”

You’re in his arms again, warm as you cuddle. Snow falls outside of your window, fleeting flakes falling through the dimmed skies. The coldness of it all will never catch you, not when you’re with him.

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llaberration · 4 months

Text

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria - Chapter 9

“Have I ever mentioned that I don't really care for rain?”

Trevor let out a loaded sigh. “What?”

“Rain. Don't really care for it,” Belfus' tone was disgustingly conversational.

“Well... it seems to me that we're both woefully underqualified to change the weather aren't we...” The druid snipped, tired and really not in the mood to chatter.

“I suppose we are,”

The two men had been on the road most of the night before Trevor's horse legs had finally given up and they had been forced to stop. Belfus had fussed over him and insisted they camp, despite the druid's objections that he just needed to catch his breath. Now they were settled on their sleeping rolls underneath the simple canvas shelter sheet that Belfus had packed. Their conversation was awkward, as Alan had always been the better one at chattering with Belfus. Trevor was less social, and in a particularly bad mood from not yet catching up to Alan. He had remained bound to the horse form for far too long, and it had caused a lot of exhausting pain in his joints, and a heavy drain on his energy.

He had been sure they were getting closer for a while, the glow in the college seal growing a little brighter, but the progress had been short lived, the glow taking on a uniform, steady brightness once more, and not growing any further from there, showing the distance was once again staying the same. He knew that every moment they waited, it would be getting further from them. But he was too tired to keep going like they had been. He had hoped to catch up in one sprint, but it seemed they would have to make it a more paced pursuit. Now he was lying in his bedroll, one arm out of the bed against the ground, the grass and weeds bound delicately, almost fondly around it as he worked to draw as much energy from the earth as he could. He could recover strength by himself given time, but it came a lot more readily and easily from nature, as was the case for all druids.

“Aren't druids supposed to be able to control the weather?”

Trevor sighed, “A bit. In localised ways. Once they're fully trained. The college doesn't grant that kind of training to anyone 'young enough to be impulsive' so apparently I'm out. There's always one excuse or another to stop us learning. Not just for Druids but every kind of mage.”

“Ah. I see... is it because you tried to eat someone?”

Trevor growled. “If you don't let me get some rest, I'm going to eat you,” he knew he was being overly grouchy with the man, but he was angry at himself for having to stop, and right now, he needed to rest in order to do better tomorrow.

“Aww you wouldn't do that,” there was a slight pause. “Would you?”

“Depends,” replied Trevor. “Are you going to let me get some sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then no. I won't eat you.”

“I doubt you could eat me even if you wanted to... you can turn into what... a bear? A bear can't eat a whole person...”

Trevor sighed, sitting up and rubbing his face. “Alright, I'm going to show you this just so that you know I CAN do it... then, I want you to be quiet, and let me get some rest. Deal?”

“Wait... what am I agreeing to?”

Trevor did not respond, as he was already into the process of transforming. It was true, his bear form would struggle to eat a whole person... at least not without a lot of tiresome chewing, but it was far from being the only large predator in his repertoire. A druid could transform into any natural animal that they had the time to study. Growing up in farmlands, his forms had mostly been pretty basic until he had joined the college. They had decided early on that he did not have the attitude for the learning environment college, and would probably need to be weaponised for the war as soon as he became too much of a problem. As such, they had intentionally introduced him to multiple battle-worthy creatures. He had later redeemed himself in the eyes of the college for demonstrating an uncanny aptitude for his studies, and they had decided to hold off on weaponising him if he could prove he was more use to them as he was. Of course, he got to keep the forms he had gained. He did not often use them, but he strongly felt that if Belfus knew he COULD eat him, he would be sufficiently shocked to quiet down for a few precious sleeping hours.

Belfus, sensing movement in the tent, reached for his pack, grabbing for his matches, and struck one, letting the flame gain strength in a cupped hand before lifting it carefully, immediately gasping as he found himself staring upwards at an enormous creature. He almost dropped the light as he pressed himself fearfully back into his bedroll, taking in the huge form. The enormous, brown and tan scaled creature loomed threateningly over him, giving him a good enough view of it to know it was a massive snake. He knew they did exist, but he'd never actually seen one in person. They were pretty rare around the wall, much preferring to live far out in the wild, where there were larger herbivores for them to prey upon. Around thirty two feet long (most of which was now outside their tent), the enormous creature let out a quiet hiss as its enormous head loomed over him. “T... Trevor?” he asked, just wanting to be sure. The huge snake nodded its head slowly, its patterned scales glittering in the light.

Trevor had clearly decided to put on a show for him, because a moment later the enormous mouth gaped open, presenting several rows of inward-pointing teeth designed to grip large and difficult prey. A tunnel of slick, pink flesh leading back into darkness at the back of the mouth made Belfus shiver, and squirm himself a little further backwards on the bedroll. “Ah... yes... very nice...” he managed weakly. He reckoned those jaws could easily stretch around his shoulders, and he did not care to find out if he was correct.

Trevor let out an amused little hiss, and turned away, closing his mouth and slowly changing back into his human form, settling back onto his bedroll with a sigh. “That is one of several creatures I have in my arson that could eat someone more comfortably than a bear so... keep that in mind before you wake me up again...”

Belfus let out a nervous little laugh, “Several you say?”

“Several.”

Belfus blew quietly through his teeth and settled onto his bed, extinguishing the light. He opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but ended up deciding it was perhaps not such a good idea, and finally let himself go to sleep.

Coyne let out a little yawn as they continued to walk. It was late now, well into the night. Bubbles was still plodding along calmly, but he felt that her gait was slowing, and he knew they needed to stop for rest. However, it was raining now, and he had no wish to stop and rest in the rain, as it would simply be cold and miserable. With this in mind, he pressed on, keeping a close eye out for any sign of decent shelter. They were still passing houses here and there much to his surprise, and though it was clearly outskirt farmlands, he had expected to be well away from civilisation by now. This side of the wall really HAD become urbanised.

They plodded for another hour or so until he spotted what was definitely an abandoned structure. An old barn with a leaking roof and one wall half collapsed. Still, shelter was shelter, and he wanted to rest at least a little before daybreak. He steered Bubbles off the path, and over to the old barn. After an undignified dismount, he gave it a quick checking over for structural safety before leading the large horse in through the collapsed wall. The interior of the barn was mostly dry, the floor sandy and scattered with old leaves. He had definitely slept in worse places.

After making sure Bubbles could reach some grass if she wanted by the entrance, Coyne went and dragged some leaves into a pile before spreading his bedroll over it, settling with a sigh and gently pressing at his stomach. “Fez?”

“mmmm?”

“We've found somewhere to camp for the night...”

“Mhmm...”

Coyne smiled, gently pressing at the small form again, “Come on, you need to come out... I can't fall asleep with you there, we still don't know what might happen at dawn if I do.”

“Awwwwww... do I have to?”

“Yes, you do. But don't worry, you can sleep in my shirt if you want to stay warm.”

“Fiiiiiine. I just gotta wake up our new friend here...”

Coyne nodded, snuggling down comfortably into his bedroll and waiting. He grimaced though, as he felt Fez initiate the process of leaving, his stomach lurching uncomfortably. He quickly moved to sit up off the side of his bed and held his arms out to prepare for the arrival of the little dragon. He huffed uncomfortably at the sensation of the large lump squeezing up inside, and opened his mouth to carefully release the slender, scaled body. He gently caught the small creature and paused to catch his breath, swiftly realising something was still lodged in his throat. He frowned, leaning forwards a little bit and trying to relax himself as the tiny mage spilled out into his hands as well. He grunted, wiping his mouth and gulping a few times to ensure his throat was still in order. “Ugh... still not my favourite part...” he grumbled.

Fez, already sitting up and flicking slime from his wings, stretched his long body and yawned. “You and me both,” he agreed, shaking himself like a dog before walking right over to Coyne's chest and starting to pluck at his shirt, “Come on then, you promised.”

Coyne chuckled, knowing the dragon was not enjoying the cold, he gently took hold of Fez, lifting him to his collar and opening it up to gently let him slide inside. The scaly body slithered down against his chest and quickly settled against his belly with a little snort.

Coyne looked down at Aernith, who was sitting in his hands looking a bit lost. “And what are we going to do with you...” he said thoughtfully. “You'll get cold if you sleep away from me... and I think this place probably has rats...”

The little human looked visibly frightened at the idea of rats, clinging to his thumb and looking around. “Rats?”

“Mhmm,” Coyne moved to gently lie down again, using a hand to keep Fez supported until he was settled on his side. He brought Aernith close and looked at him, unsettled to see those strange eyes were not just white pinpoints on black... but they glowed with their own light. “Here, I'm a very still sleeper,” he said, gently lowering the small body into his travelling cloak, outside the shirt but inside that outer layer of cloth against his chest. “Do you think you'll be warm enough there?”

“Well... it's... better than a stomach...” said the little mage, settling himself in the cloth, “still not ideal but...”

“Did you work anything out with Fez while we were travelling?” asked Coyne, curious to know if a contract had been forged.

“Not yet... we've talked... and I am interested in what he has to offer but... the college won't just let me go... abandonment is taken seriously... I... I don't know.”

“Well... try to get some more sleep,” said Coyne, settling with a yawn. “We have a lot further to travel.”

“Where are we going anyway?”

Coyne smiled, “If Fez hasn't told you yet, it's not my place to do so. I'm just the coinpurse.”

“Somewhere important?”

“Important to him, maybe important to all of us. But I'm not gonna say anything else. Not to a human, especially not one from the college.”

Alan let out a little sigh, shifting himself to settle more comfortably. “Not a fan of the college huh?”

“I mean... is anyone?”

“They do provide a service helping people like me learn to control our capabilities?”

“Do they though?” said Coyne, digging in his coin pouch for a gold coin an starting to gum on the edge of it. “Seems to me that you have very little control over your capability.”

Alan blinked, realising that actually... the mimic monster had a point. He did have very little control of his ability. He had learned a lot of basic other magic, and magic history from the college but... in terms of getting a handle on his eyes, they had achieved almost nothing. Fez, a dragon, something absolutely demonised by the college, had told him more about himself and what he was in a few moments than they had managed to teach him in his adult life. “Well... well... they...”

“Yeah I thought so,” said Coyne, smiling as he flipped the coin into his mouth, speaking around it. “Your college just hordes everything magical to themselves so nobody else gets any. Some of it I agree with, cos some magic stuff is dangerous, but I have been around humans a long time. I know damn well that the college is still made up of men. The same as the ones they're keeping the magic away from. They're just as likely to misuse it,” he paused to swallow the coin, “Mages are still men.”

“Didn't you say you were half mage?”

“Yup. And that's how I know not to trust them.”

“And... you think we'll ever learn? Enough to... not cause our own destruction someday?”

“Maybe? If you were to start listening to other influences. Like women. Animals. Trees. Met some rocks smarter than some of the college mages I've come across. Honestly the bar is pretty low if you're going to start with the things mages should start learning from.”

“You don't have a particularly high opinion of mages do you.”

“Nooope,” Coyne laughed. “There's a history in it,” he chuckled, flipping another gold coin into his mouth. “Maybe I'll tell you about it. If Fez doesn't eat you.”

“Wait... seriously though how much of a risk is that? Being eaten...?” Alan looked up at the huge man. “Coyne?” he stuck his head out of the robes, seeing the mimic had closed his eyes. “Seriously Coyne?”

Coyne, smiling inwardly, continued to pretend to be asleep as the mage withdrew into his robe, looking worried. He had to keep the man on his toes for the time being. At least until Fez came to some kind of arrangement with him.

Coyne awoke to the sensation of sharp little claws on his collarbone, and he opened his eyes to find an angular little face looming over his. He let out a surprised little yelp, and sat up quickly, dislodging Fez into his lap in a bundle of wings. “Coyne!” meeped the dragon in surprise.

Coyne blinked around owlishly, seeing dawn had come and gone, the morning sun was in full force, warming the old ruined barn. The rain from the day before had long passed and there was a calm breeze ruffling the long grass outside. He looked down at his lap, reaching down to gently help Fez reorient himself, “Sorry... you surprised me. I'm not really used to anyone being around...” he yawned, raising his arms for a stretch and opening his travelling cloak to dig around for Aernith, who had been dislodged by his sitting up. “Sorry there...” he said, as he extracted the tiny body. “That must have been a rough way to wake up.”

“It's been a rough few days...” muttered the tiny mage, rubbing his face.

“So... what's on for today?” asked Coyne, looking at Fez.

“I think if you get in another good day's ride away from civilisation, it should be safe for me to start flying us again,” said Fez, stretching his wings. “So... today, you get to keep riding... whilst our diminutive mage friend and I get to talking business.”

“Oh joy,” said Aernith, yawning, “Does that mean...” he glanced at Coyne. “We get eaten again?”

The dragon let out an amused little chuckle and moved towards the mage, “If he's the only one who eats you today, you can consider yourself lucky.”

“Okay everyone needs to stop joking about eating me...” said Alan, holding his hands up. “You both do it... and I literally just got taken away from my old colleague at the college who used to do it... either I am excessively edible or I attract the wrong kinds of people.”

Fez let out a little laugh, “I've never heard of a college mage who eats people, that would be a new one. Who was this colleague?”

“A literal bear with a sore head,” sighed Alan, a little sadly. He knew Trevor would be in a lot of trouble with the college for losing him. Hopefully the man had the sense to not return to them right away. He could draw out a search, make it look like he did everything right and he might avoid being weaponised.

“A druid then?” asked Fez.

“Yes.”

“A grumpy druid?”

“Very.”

“Lovable aren't they,” chuckled the dragon. “I've never met a cheerful Druid yet.”

“You've known many?”

“Dragons occasionally like taking Druids as their assistants. So I have met a few among my kind. They usually take living with us over living among humans...”

“Because of the college?”

“Because of the college.”

Coyne reached out to gently lift Fez up, “Can you two chat once we're on the road? I think Bubbles is getting impatient,” he said, gesturing over at the horse, who was pawing at the broken wall where they had gotten in, snorting.

“Bubbles says she's hungry and there's no thistles in here,” said Fez, grinning.

“Well Bubbles is going to have to wait a minute because we need to get you two... wait... you can understand the horse?”

“Can you not?”

Coyne frowned, “Fez, neither mimics nor mages can talk to animals without using some kind of magic. Magic that you know I don't know.”

The little dragon smiled coyly at him. “You have some magic... how am I to know which kind?”

Coyne blew out his cheeks in a sigh and gave the small dragon a withering look. “Okay so you can talk to Bubbles. That's good. Is Bubbles alright with all this?”

“Bubbles says she wants to be outside eating the thistles.”

“Okay well, that's a good sign,” said Coyne, shaking his head. “Let's get you two settled and we can move...”

“What about breakfast?” Alan's voice was hopeful, but a little cautious.

Fez and Coyne both looked at the small man in surprise. “Oh... humans need to eat every day don't they... I forgot.” said Fez.

“Several times a day... and we haven't fed him once,” said Coyne, nodding as though he had only just thought of this. “We're gonna have to do something about that.”

“It's blackberry season right?” said Fez, “humans eat those don't they?” he looked quizzically at Aernith.

“Yes, we eat those... not normally as a whole meal but... I guess I'm not normally this small.”

“Good, Coyne will find some of those for you,” said Fez, nodding and looking up at Coyne. “In the meantime, I will return to my personal carriage now if you please...”

Coyne chuckled, smiling as he gently lifted the small dragon up, giving him some gentle scratches under his chin. “Okay, let's do this then.”

After a heavy breakfast of dragon, and a quick dessert of slightly nonplussed mage, Coyne let Bubbles out of the barn and set her loose on a patch of thistles as he went and searched around for some blackberries. After getting thoroughly prickled by the shrubbery, he managed to find a few, and swallowed them for Aernith. He brought a few back for Bubbles as a gesture of goodwill. Somehow knowing the horse could 'talk' to Fez made him more aware of her efforts in their venture. He made sure the blackberries still on the bramble of course, since she seemed to appreciate things more when they were spiky. The horse appreciatively ate the whole thing while Coyne began to search for the magical tracker he knew the horse had on her somewhere. He used his 'finding' spell normally reserved for seeking out trinkets, and quickly located the focus of the spell, a simple silver bead woven cunningly into the depths of the equine's plentiful mane. He smiled and drew out the small curved dagger he had pocketed a few days ago, using it to neatly snip that lock of hair beneath the bead and remove it without damaging any more mane than he needed to. He turned the thing in his fingers, checking the spell on it, sensing to ensure it was the only one, then quickly flicked it away into the bushes. He would see the horse returned but he could not risk anyone following them where they were going.

He returned the dagger to his belt and went to carefully heft himself up onto the horse, the movement still not dignified, as she was still many hands taller than what would be considered 'ideal' for his height. Still, he managed it, and heaved himself upright in the saddle, patting his stomach gently as Fez squirmed from the movement. “We're just setting off now,” he said, smiling as he gently took the reigns and began to steer the huge animal back towards the road. He reached out to carefully lift the mane out of Bubbles' face so that she could see, making a note to actually give it a trim the next time they stopped.

As they got back on track, and he gently goaded Bubbles into a steady canter, he took a slow breath, drawing in the cool morning air and just enjoying the taste of it... somehow it seemed sweeter on this side of the wall. He had not noticed it before now but the air had an almost pleasant freshness to it. Perhaps the rot spreading on the other side had been affecting the air, but so slowly that he had never noticed it until he had gotten some distance away. He grimaced at the thought of the looming hive of darkness that Fez had shown him... it had been a city once, a city he had known at least peripherally. He had not wanted to think on it but to see it lost beneath that sinister black rock covering made him wonder what had become of a place that had once been almost offensively normal. He had had no love for it, or its residents but he could only imagine what had become of them, and it was not a pleasant thing to consider. He wondered if the dragons could or would be able to do anything. This council they were going to see, would they be concerned with the plight of men? Enough to act on it? Surely Fez would convince them. Perhaps there was more relying on it than Coyne had let himself realise before. And here he was trying to carry the dragon safely to this all important quest.

He chuckled a little, his belly suddenly weighing a bit heavier than before.

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