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deadly-diminuendo · 1 month

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Sweet Dreams, Darling

a spawn astarion x fem!tav reader oneshot / nsfw / ~4.1k words

Summary: An evening spent reading a racy romance novel awakens a fantasy you never knew you had. The thought of your sleeping body becoming a thing to be used for someone else's pleasure brings you an unexpected thrill. Of course Astarion catches you in the act and of course he cannot resist teasing you. But he is willing to indulge you.

Tags/CW: somnophilia, consensual non-consent, tadpole mind sharing, vampire bites/blood drinking, kink discovery, piv sex, late act 3, mostly smut with some fluff

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Or read below...

Never has a collection of words upon a page enraptured you quite like this.

You could have spent hours perusing the diverse collection of books in your private suite, but the second you spotted this particular title, you simply could not resist plucking it from the shelf: Dusk’s Dark Desires. A steamy vampire romance novel taking Faerûn by storm, or so you have heard.

Whether it proved to be a well-written escapist fantasy capable of stimulating your senses, or a disaster full of laughable euphemisms and wild inaccuracies—something you and Astarion might enjoy ridiculing together perhaps—you thought you made the perfect choice for the night. Little did you know just how entirely it would captivate you.

After all it is certainly not the first time you have read something of this nature—erotic literature has long been a guilty pleasure of yours—but the book in your hands describes in riveting detail a fantasy you were not fully aware you had until this very moment.

A hazy notion of it would flicker through your mind whenever you would wake to find Astarion lying atop you, your blood such an aphrodisiac to him that he could not help but to succumb to carnal instinct, hands wandering, hips rolling, his arousal anything but subtle. His need for you never failed to ignite your need for him. All it would take was a word, a nod, a look, and then it would begin—your lips colliding, your clothes shedding, his cock sliding into your mouth, or plunging into your cunt, whatever suited the two of you best. You never felt more wanted, at least in those early days.

Even the times you did not wake thrilled you. You both treated your arrangement as your little secret, only acknowledging your intimate exchanges in knowing smiles and seductive whispers. All the nights you offered him your neck and sealed your promise with a kiss, all the mornings you awoke smiling as you felt fresh puncture marks in your skin, wondering if the act filled him with as much desire as it always seems to.

Wondering if he wanted to take more from you than your blood while you slept.

You flip a few pages back, eager to reread the passage that inspired your lecherous thoughts. Again you absorb the tantalizing prose and again the delicious encounter described plays out in your mind’s eye. A chamber cloaked in darkness, the only light a sliver of moonglow peeking in through the window. The protagonist, a mortal woman, alone and asleep upon a luxurious bed, unaware of what is soon to unfold. The vampire, graceful and silent as he enters the room, here to claim her blood—and her body.

Astarion here to claim you.

Your longing pools between your legs as you picture yourself and your own lover recreating this scandalous scenario. You imagine Astarion losing himself in your neck, lifting the hem of your nightdress, easing his way inside you, your body wholly ready to accept him even while unconscious.

What began as a tiny spark of curiosity has developed into overwhelming want. You want to wake to him indulging in your sleeping form more than he has ever dared before. Or not to wake at all, to discover in the morning that he’d had his wicked way with you while you were none the wiser.

You continue to read, immersing yourself in both the enticing words upon the page and the intoxicating idea of Astarion using your body for his pleasure. So lost in thought are you that, when the door creaks open, you jump.

Really, you should not be at all surprised. You knew Astarion would eventually be joining you tonight. Since your party began its stay at the Elfsong, the two of you have often spent your nights in this room, away from the prying eyes of the others. A cozy place for you to converse and cuddle in comfort—or, since that unforgettable experience you shared over his grave, to make love.

Your journey has held many surprises for you, but none more unexpected—and more welcome—than falling in love. Together you’ve formed a deep emotional connection founded on mutual trust, respect, and adoration—and your physical connection is all the better for it. You truly enjoy each other in every way.

And you would very much like to enjoy him tonight.

Astarion regards your flushed face with a touch of suspicion and a great deal of amusement, the curl of his lips hinting at the barrage of teases likely coming your way. You shut your book closed too quickly, too guiltily, you think. He knows he has caught you red-handed, and now you are red-faced to match it.

He takes a step closer to the bed and closer to you, a little thrill rushing through you as his gaze drops to the low cut of your chemise—but then you realize he means to glimpse at your novel, discern its title, uncover a clue to the mysteries held within. You hug the book tighter to you, not willing to give up its secrets this soon.

“Good book, I take it?”

You shrug, though you know your grin is likely giving you away. “It has been a pleasant enough diversion thus far.”

“Oh, I think it’s much more than that, darling,” he insists, sauntering closer before halting at the foot of the bed. “It must be quite an… intriguing read to bring such a pretty blush to those cheeks. Here I thought only I was capable of that.”

“Maybe I was thinking about you,” you admit with a flutter of your lashes.

“Like always, then?” He chuckles as heat again darkens your cheeks. “You do fluster so easily in my presence. Still a little shy even after all this time. How sweet you are, my dear.”

You can’t help but notice how his fingertips run up the bedpost, and you find yourself wishing those hands were all over you instead.

“Or maybe you are not as sweet as you seem, hmm?” His voice is low, sultry, the way it always is when he means to seduce you.

As if you needed seducing.

Your breath catches in your lungs as the mattress sinks beneath his weight, your body deathly still but for the pumping of your heart and the throbbing of your cunt. Eagerly you await his next move.

You watch his slow, measured crawl towards you, his hungered stare suggesting his need to devour and ravage you—but he stops, resting his chin in his hand as he lies there looking at you.

“What devilish thoughts have been going through your mind, I wonder? Dreaming up all the sinful things we might do together, perhaps? Wishing I was here with you? Touching you? Inside you?”

“Maybe,” you tell him with a coy smile. He does not yet know the depths of your depravity, but perhaps you might yet let him find out.

“And now that you have me…” He smirks, running a thumb across your parted lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

You cannot resist. You never can.

So you steal a kiss—and he snatches away your book.

You expected it to happen, really. It was inevitable. And though part of you is mortified that you have allowed him this much ammunition to tease you with—the other part of you wonders if he, too, just might like what he reads.

“Well, what have we here?” Astarion settles against the pillow to your left, looking all too pleased with himself as he begins to inspect his prize. “Dusk’s Dark Desires?” He sounds skeptical as he reads out the title, and though he flashes you an unimpressed look, you can detect a glimmer in his eyes. “Let’s see what dark desires have that sweet heart of yours beating so fast.”

If he had not guessed it already, he discovers it immediately upon opening the book: “Vampires, darling?” He tuts at you with mock disapproval. “Oh, my love. I should have known.”

You do feel rather embarrassed, knowing so much about the true horrors of vampirism, horrors he has had to endure—and yet the first night he bit you was a carnal awakening. A world-shattering, life-changing experience for you both.

But you fell in love with Astarion for the man he is, not the vampire he happens to be.

“It is, admittedly, a new fascination of mine. All because you are a fascination of mine. And so much more than that.”

You smile at each other, and your worries fade.

Though it soon becomes clear he intends to keep you blushing.

“My, my,” he remarks, clicking his tongue as his eyes scan the text in front of him. “Is this now a fascination of yours, too?” He begins to read aloud: “So serene did she lie beneath him, so scrumptious did she taste, so submissive was she in slumber, that he knew he must take all of her, inch by precious inch.”

This is all rather foolish, you think.

Yet to hear such words spoken in his irresistibly seductive timbre renders you speechless.

So he makes the obvious choice to keep going.

He rolls to his side, half hovering over you as he skims the rest of the page, skipping ahead a few lines: “Fear rattled her when she awoke to find him within her, fangs in throat, cock in flesh. Yet a rapturous need blossomed in her core, obliterating all rational thought. When she cried out at last, his mouth met hers with a ferocity beguiling and obscene, consuming her whole. She enfolded him into her arms and surrendered.”

A pause. The air feels electric between you as Astarion studies your face. Whatever conclusion he comes to makes him grin. “You filthy little degenerate. This really turns you on, doesn’t it?”

You are still quiet, so he persists.

“You like the thought of it, don’t you? You, lying here lost in your sweet dreams, while I take whatever I want?”

Somewhere within you still resides a shame that prevents you from confessing outright. You try to downplay it. “It’s just a silly little fantasy.”

“Is that all it is?” He lets the book fall to the bed as he moves to straddle you. “Oh, no, my love. I know you too well to believe that. Your body betrays you.”

“Does it?” you ask innocently, but you know full well it does. Lust already blazed within you before he’d even entered the room, and now his every touch fuels the flames.

“Hmm, let me see…”

His palm cups your chin.

“Pupils dilated.”

Lips inches from yours.

“Cheeks reddened.”

Fingers trace your heart.

“Heartrate accelerated.”

Then graze your breasts.

“Nipples hardened.”

Lower, lower, lower.

“Cunt soaked.”

Mouths crash together.

No more words pass between you as you lose yourselves in your fervent worship of each other, though your fantasy is far from forgotten.

Not by you.

Not by him.

+++

“I would not mind indulging you. In fact I would rather like to try it myself.”

Those were his first words to you in the morning when you awoke entangled in his arms.

You were elated. You admitted how badly you wanted it—wanted him to take and take and take from you while you sleep. Wanted to be nothing more than his personal plaything for a night.

And tonight you will put your plan into place.

You are alone. You are restless. You are wide awake.

And so you are grateful for the little gift Astarion left out for you on the desk.

Together you decided upon two key conditions to be met for your end of the bargain before he could proceed with his. One, you would remove your smallclothes. Two, you would drink a sleeping draught—and the perfect concoction is now conveniently laid out before you.

He wanted you to know you could still change your mind—but no. You are sure of what you want, and you trust him completely.

You slip out of your smallclothes, kicking them aside as you make your way forward. You take the tiny bottle in your hands, twist off the lid, and swallow the works of it down. You settle into the plush comfort of your bed, and moments later, you drift into the world of your dreams.

+++

Sweet are your dreams of Astarion.

Foggy and fleeting though they begin, little details stick with you—the melodious rippling of his laughter, the heady scent of bergamot and rosemary, the feeling of cool skin against your heat in a spellbinding dance of ice and fire. Every one of your senses recalls all the happiest moments you have shared, envisions all the precious memories you have yet to create.

Whether it is a matter of minutes or hours, you are not sure—but, in time, the nebulous becomes lucid, the vague becomes vivid.

The picture so clear before you now is you. Your chest rises and falls with the gentle cadence of your breathing, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Your hemline hiked up high, your head atilt upon your pillow, your lovely neck ready for the taking. A vision delectable and divine.

Delectable… An imagining of yourself through Astarion’s eyes, then. How curious.

Your thoughts are no longer your own, but his, or at least what you fancy his to be. How pleased he would be to learn your dreams filled with love and longing inspired the warmth of your smile, how thrilled he would feel to feed upon your sleeping form, knowing how much the notion arouses you, how much of you you’re willing to let him take.

Astarion stalks towards the bed, eyes ever watching you, drinking in every detail of your alluring figure. He cannot deny how adorable you look in your frilly and feminine little dress, but, as he often reminds you, it’s your skin that suits you best. How he would love to strip you bare, have you nude beneath him, so sweet and soft and utterly helpless. The bed creaks when he joins you upon it, the mattress dipping as his knees settle on either side of you—he freezes, but then remembers having spotted the empty vial—he need not be too careful tonight.

You will sleep very, very well.

As for his other little suggestion… Gods, he must know. His hands venture under your skirt, and when he feels the skin there—silky, smooth, shamelessly bare—he grins.

Both your blood and your body will be his tonight.

Such a generous little thing you are, always eager to be seduced, to be used, to be conquered. What luck to have found such willing prey, a perfect vessel to fulfill the needs of his empty stomach and his already hardening cock. The steady rhythm of your pulse and the heat emanating from your skin only heighten his ravenous desire.

You can almost feel him at your neck.

A delicate touch. A gentle kiss. A sharp bite.

Astarion sinks his fangs deep into you, and your blood, so rich and so decadent, fills his hungry mouth, a heavenly reprieve from his eternal curse. The taste of you is pure perfection, an ambrosia more divine than the finest wines, more filling than the grandest feasts. It’s invigorating. Exhilarating. Arousing.

He gulps you down greedily, the temptation to drain you dry ever present, but his ardent need for you ever more consuming. Unaware as you are, your body still reacts, still shivers and shakes against him—not unlike how you shudder in ecstasy when he fucks you, your self-control hopelessly lost as you come undone in his arms. His lust for blood shifts into lust for you, every drop of you he drinks seemingly travelling right to his cock.

A feeling he wanted to fight, once. To physically crave anyone, even if instigated by the act of blood-drinking, was truly shocking. Beyond what he could handle, at first. He tried to ignore it. And then he couldn’t ignore it, stealing away to the woods, or to the privacy of his tent to play out his fantasies, chase the euphoria of release. Giving into it when you would wake, sometimes even wanting you to wake so he could have you, take pleasure in you, empty himself inside you.

Now it is a feeling he has been learning to embrace.

And tonight with you—in you—he will embrace it fully.

Instinct guides his hands to grab at your gown, bunching its cloth into fistfuls and gathering its hem to your waist, exposing your gorgeous curves and your pretty little cunt. He dares run a finger along your entrance, so warm and, oh, so deliciously wet for him. A wonderful surprise to find you this receptive, this ready for his use. His cock aches to spring free, to indulge in your slick heat.

To fuck you like this, plunge into you hard and fast, eat up every last bit of you—the pleasure of it all would be immense—but your gifts to him are precious, something to be cherished, to be handled with care. As much as it is a challenge to maintain his control, to pull himself from your luscious neck, he does.

It helps to know the night will not end here. He readies himself for the delights yet to come, strips off his trousers and smallclothes, coaxes your legs apart with one hand as he strokes himself with the other.

To savour you will be so sweet.

Astarion rubs along your folds—a tease that so often has you begging for more—but now he is the impatient one. Your charming smile, your radiating warmth, your ready body, so slick with unconscious need, invites him in. The tip of his cock slips inside you and you welcome him with astonishing ease.

Pleasure—whether his or yours, you can’t quite tell—floods your mind, intensifying the otherworldly sensations of your dreamscape. The way he fills you, the way you surround him entrances you in equal measure, immersing you into a haze of languid euphoria as he gradually, gently works you open.

How cute that you cannot quite comprehend this. But, oh, you feel it, don’t you?

His thoughts again dominate yours as he buries his full length inside, relishing in how easily your body accommodates his size, how good it feels to pull away and push back into you. Gods, you look so beautiful and blissful in your oblivion. Still your body answers to his rhythm in ways subtle and sweet—a touch of colour on your cheeks, a slight quickening of your heart—but nothing gratifies him more than discovering the stirrings of pleasure swirling about your sleeping mind.

A conflict begins between his crumbling resolve to take his time and his growing urge to thrust into you mercilessly. He manages to compromise with a moderate pace and a thorough exploration of you, pressing in as deep as he is able while his hands roam across your skin. Your every curve and contour have long been mapped out in his mind, but still he touches you with a reverence befitting a first time.

How surreal it is to know this stunning, trusting, loving woman in his arms is all his. It still feels like a sweet dream from which he will one day wake.

But you are real—and you give yourself to him so freely.

Astarion continues to rock his hips against yours, moving faster now, taking full advantage of your kindly offering. You feel delicious wrapped around his cock like this, your body perfectly conforming to his shape. He does miss your adorable little moans—you have always been enthusiastically vocal for him in bed—but he must admit the endless creaking below and the wet slapping of his flesh meeting yours make for pleasing sounds in their absence.

Barely a second passes before a pretty noise escapes your open mouth—only a faint whimper, but it makes him throb with the feral need to fill you. You little minx. Even in your sleep you know just how to rile him. Well, if you are to tempt him with such provocative encouragement, then he has no choice but to fuck you harder.

He abandons all restraint in his haste towards the end, the pleasure tingling your slumbering mind enhancing his own. But, gods, what he would not give to feel all your delightful spasms and shudders as you shatter for him.

Maybe, just maybe…

You feel it. You have this whole time, really, but the waves of pleasure are far stronger than before. Each and every sensation amplified, pushed hard into your mind as he plunges hard into you. How much pleasure he takes in enjoying your body. How blissfully lost he is in his sweet addiction to you. How near he is to tumbling over the edge of ecstasy.

And he wants desperately to take you with him.

Euphoria wracks through him and through you. With a few final thrusts, Astarion pumps you full of his seed, your rhythmic pulses drawing every last drop deeper inside you.

He collapses, basking in afterglow, heart brimming with affection as he admires you. You are still sound asleep, oblivious to the waking world, that same cute little smile upon your pretty face.

Gods, could you be any more perfect?

Before he separates from your body and mind, before all fades to black, he plants a single kiss upon your soft lips, whispering one last message into your ear.

“Sweet dreams, darling.”

+++

Your eyes flicker open. You squint a little as you adjust to the shock of morning light streaming in through the crack of the open window, but you soon welcome your favourite sight: Astarion lying by your side. You are usually the type to grumble as you pull the covers over your head, chasing the often vain hope for another hour of sleep—but today you simply smile. Perhaps waking up every day next to a partner you adore just might yet make a morning person out of you.

He looks beautiful like this. Relaxed, content, transfixed on a book. He fails to notice your stare—or at least he pretends not to. Eventually you scooch closer, and at last he acknowledges you. “Good morning, my dear. I trust you… slept well?”

Something signals to you that this is not quite a normal greeting. Something you can’t quite pinpoint. He looks… exceptionally smug, even for him. He sounds… expectant, maybe?

You struggle to recall whatever it is you are supposed to know. But then you recognize the book in his hands as he slams it shut. And then you remember.

Oh, gods. Your racy novel. Your little fantasy. Your erotic dreams.

Your hand snaps to your neck, your fingers finding two distinctive punctures in your skin while he watches you with his fanged grin. He drank from you, that much is certain, but did he…? You reach your other hand to examine a far more intimate place.

Oh.

“That,” you begin breathlessly, hazy recollections of your dreams returning to you piece by piece. “That was all real last night, wasn’t it?”

“If you are referring to the little show I gave you, then yes,” he confirms, his grin spreading wide. “Was it everything you ever wanted?”

His flirtatious drawl is full of bravado, as it always is, yet you think you can detect the tiniest hint of uncertainty behind it.

Oh, you will make sure you leave him with no doubt.

You practically pounce on him, smothering him with a flurry of little kisses. The way his laughter bubbles out of him makes your heart sing. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “And it’s like I’ve told you before. I trust you with my body.”

You plant a kiss on his forehead.

“My mind.”

And the tip of his nose.

“My heart.”

Both his cheeks.

“My everything.”

You press your lips to his, and the two of you melt into each other. Astarion holds you tight even as your lips break apart, a whispered “I love you,” filling the shell of your ear. You repeat the words back to him—and before you lavish him with the full extent of your affection you tell him only one more thing.

“You have given me the sweetest dreams I will ever have.”

+++ Thank you for reading!

If you enjoy my work, you can find more on my AO3. Additional cross posts for Tumblr and masterlist coming soon + more oneshots in the works! UPDATE: Here is the masterlist!

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 smut

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arabellasleopardcoat · 4 days

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Clad in sea (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: It is not Harrenhal, what drives Daemon to the Gods Eye. It’s the memories of you and your daughter.

Warnings: ANGST. Suicide. Canon levels of violence. The afterlife. Guilt, suicidal thoughts. Harenhal’s induced nightmares ™

A/N: It’s angst but with a happy ending (Sort of) Come with me into a deep dive into Daemon’s mental torture. You only need to know the reader really loves the sea, and watch closely. Pay attention, everything has a reason.

As a young girl, you had always dreamed of the sea. There had been nothing you loved more than walking to the docks, and looking at the waves crushing under you, extending into the horizon.

It made you feel small, in the good sense. As if you were insignificant in the great scheme of things. The sea had been there when you had been born, and it would be there when you died. It would go on.

At night, you could still feel the waves under you, rocking your body. Sundrunk and deliriously happy, you always fell asleep in peace after spending your days in the beach.

The memory soothes you as you place your baby in front of you, watching her small body be rocked by the waves. She had felt so cold in your arms, and you had not dared embrace her in her last seconds, only hold her hand. Her stomach had been pierced by a sword, and moving her too much felt cruel.

You had never wanted your daughter to know pain. You had known it was an inevitable fact of life, but you had hoped she had more time.

Daemon had left. He had done something horrible, the men had said. Killed a boy. So now, they would kill the two of you and present your heads to him.

It sickened you, to imagine your beautiful daughter wandering the earth without a head. Of these animals desecrating her body, perhaps doing unspeakable things to you because of a war you had no interest in.

So you had picked her up and ran to the only place you had ever felt safe. And as the ocean welcomed you into her arms, turning you as cold as your daughter was, you could finally embrace her again.

You did not regret it. Not even as saltwater crushed your airways, and your lungs filled with water. Not even when you emerged, voice raspy with salt, and your daughter held against your chest, full of righteous fury.

There had been a girl once, with hair as dark as ink, and eyes full of constellations. Her lips had always been chapped, for her land had suffered a drought so long, they didn’t have a word for water. Instead, they called it Life.

The girl had a gift. Somehow, she always managed to find Life, wherever she went. It was no causality, her mother told her. Their God was taken with her, and gazed at her every time he could. Through the small ponds, the droplets of dew, the very waves crashing on the shore. She had to be careful because no matter how useful her gift, if she looked too much into her reflection, he might pull her in.

“Are you afraid?” Daemon had whispered, as the two of you laid in bed one night. The sheets were sticky with his spent and sweat, but both of you were too lazy to change them. Instead, you were carefully laid on your side, body curled against his, careful not to touch the pool of seed.

“Of what?” You had looked up at him, and Daemon had been distracted by your beauty. In the soft light of the eternal sunsets of Essos, you looked otherworldly. With your face shining with a light layer of sweat, and your neck and chest covered by his marks, you had to be a goddess.

You took pain like the best of his men. You looked much more beautiful than any of them had ever done.

“What?” You insisted, poking his ribs.

“Of dying?” He felt sick for even mentioning it. You were so alive, so vibrant in his arms, so full of life. As if aware of his thoughts, your hands went to cradle your stomach. Your pregnancy was still fairly new. It didn’t show yet, but his child was growing inside of you.

Daemon pressed his own hands over yours. You let him help cradle your child, and leaned back against him. The thought of you facing the birthing bed made him anxious, and he had to squeeze you to make sure you were still there.

His last memory of Westeros had been Aemma’s death. And while Essos had more advanced healing arts, and you were no Targaryen, he feared his seed might make the pregnancy harsher on you.

“I am of the sea, Daemon.” You had smiled at him, so happy it hurt to even recall it. “I was born from her, foam and blood. And to her, I shall return when I die. I do not fear death. There is no end in a circle.”

No end in a circle, you had said. But an Ouroboros died regardless. Daemon clutched the letter until it tore.

You had made truth of your promise. Somehow, while grievously wounded, you had managed to carry your daughter to the sea. In the soft sand, your footprints had never faltered. The two of you had made a path towards the foam, and disappeared into the water. Perhaps, sensing that if you left your bodies behind, they might have been desecrated. Or perhaps because you were a woman of your word.

The Gods knew what anguish you had suffered, watching your girl die. It was a pain no mother should have to withstand, and yet, you had had to because Daemon had inflicted it in Helaena to avenge the one inflicted on Rhaenyra.

A circle has no ending. He cursed the day he had thought stepping foot outside Essos was a good idea. Daemon should have never left you. The world was not a safe place, not with the reach of the Hightowers. You had not stood a chance.

They had come into the night, and made you watch as they murdered his daughter. Then, they tried to injure you. But somehow, you had managed to escape.

Broken. Bleeding. With a dead toddler in your arms, and perhaps a babe in your belly. Daemon could not recall the last time you were in your moonblood, before he left. Perhaps you had gotten it after. He would never get to know.

No one had been able to stop you. Not even the men who had hurt you so. They had been unable to find your bodies, lost in the waves. The sea had raged that night, mourning the loss of her daughters. No one could have survived that.

Still, hope blossomed inside his chest every time he thought of it. The feeling was paralyzing. It didn’t allow him to grief normally. He kept thinking the two of you may be alive somewhere, lost in the sea. That a fishing boat might have picked you up, and helped you hide.

Because if you were truly dead, Daemon would have felt it. He was certain of it. Caraxes, who had always been finely attuned to his sister, this other sea goddess, would have felt it too. He would have cried in the manner Syrax did, when Rhaenyra took to the birthing bed.

His dragon had a connection to you. He knew your touch, your voice from all others. Both of you had been born out of the sea. You had ridden him as many times as Daemon himself. At least he would have known.

But not a peep had been heard from Caraxes. Ever since they had arrived at Harrenhal, he seemed subdued, as if preparing to hibernate. Sedated. He no longer wanted to fly, no longer wanted Daemon near.

Daemon thought he would have known, but perhaps, he had been unworthy of it. And Caraxes sensed it. He knew it was all his fault.

Were you laying down, lulled to sleep by the songs of the seashells or alive somewhere mourning your daughter, it was all his fault. Daemon had not been aware that the price to pay for a son would be this steep. His two girls.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? They really thought women were worth less in Westeros.

The lack of Life had never been so intense. The drought had gotten worse, the crops withered, the few animals died. Desperation filled the girl. Her mother was getting old, and she was no longer able to partake in the long walks in search for a droplet of dew.

So one day, she walked to the shore and sat by, watching the waves. She breathed in, found her courage, and said: “I wish to speak to you.”

Daemon tosses and turns, fixing his pillows. The room is gloomy, no matter how many candles he has lit, and there is a strange draft that not even the brightest fire can fight.

He closes his eyes, feeling a sudden warmth behind them. If you were here, you would embrace him from behind, playfully pinning him into the bed. You would press your lips to his temple, and sing of lands long forgotten, a city underneath the sea. A city so great, the Gods had punished it by sinking it.

Your soft voice would soothe him into sleep, your arms holding him tight. Daemon can almost feel the weight of them against his waist, the warmth of your body against his. A sob gathers on his chest, but dies in his throat.

He has not cried since getting the news. Instead, he has been cursed with the easiest sleep of his life. Harrenhal is damp and gloomy, and Daemon doesn’t like at all the looks the witch gives him, but every time he closes his eyes, he is out like a light.

Your absence is not so acute, in a bed not his own. He can pretend you are home, safe. Or that you have gone out, siren that you are, for a midnight walk along the shore. In those nights, when the sea had been at its most violent, you had roused your daughter and took her to watch the sea.

“The sea gives and takes.” You had often said, standing in the docks with her, from enough distance that the harsh tides wouldn’t hurt you. “We must respect her. Remember that.”

You had taken her on other nights too. The two of you would roll around in the sand, play in the waves, until you exhausted yourself and both crawled into bed with him, hair still wet and smelling of salt.

Daemon swears he smells it — now. His daughter’s soap, and the sea, clinging to her hair and skin, her little toes cold, and pressing to his calves.

But when he opens his eyes, nothing is there. Just the lingering smell of saltwater.

These phantom touches both comfort and torture him. He can pretend both of you are there, or safe at home, but every time he opens his eyes, you are not.

Daemon dreams of the both of you every night. They are not nightmares. He is aware he is dreaming when he is in them, and getting to see your faces is bittersweet. He knows he will never see you anywhere else. The sea you had so loved has taken you, and he has nothing to mourn. Not a body, not a painting, not even your bones.

The dream is the same every night. It resembles a story you had once told him, and makes him wonder why his subconscious has chosen it, out of all the sea tales you had shared with him.

In the dream, you stand on the shore of Dragonstone. You are naked, with your hair loose over your shoulders. You hold your daughter, but she is not the age she had been when Daemon had left. Instead, she seems to be a baby again. Daemon cannot be sure because what you hold is a bundle of linens that you rock back and forth, and her face is never seen.

Your eyes are fixed on the horizon. You do not seem to notice him at first. The rocks that make up the beach dig on your bare feet, and the sea rages, hitting against your ankles with such strength you should fall over. You do not.

It makes Daemon nervous.

“What are you doing?” He always tries to convince you, not a night goes by where he doesn’t. “Come here, love. The sea is too dangerous tonight.”

There is a steel band around his chest, and it tightens when he sees you take a step further into the sea. He has this feeling something terrible is about to happen, that the next wave will hit you and drag you under, that it will drown you and his girl. That it will be the last.

But every night, you refuse to listen. You continue rocking the baby, eyes stubbornly set in the horizon. Your face gets the same pinched look it had gotten in life, when the two of you argued, and you refused to back down.

He had learnt to grovel by your side. He tries that, next.

“What are you doing? Please, love.” Daemon gets more desperate then because he tries to get closer to you and never quite manages. He had never been as fearless of the sea as you had been, and in the dream, the mere sight of the water caused him intense terror. “Please. What is it? We can talk about it, I can help. I can protect you.”

Daemon knows it is a lie. He has failed at that once, already. And you seem to know it too because it is to the promise of protection that you turn.

“I can’t.” And your voice sounds old, full of wind and salt. It shatters his soul. You are slipping through his fingers once more. The thought is unbearable. “Our daughter needs to eat.”

Your arms open, and a miracle occurs. The island, so dry and so infertile, the jagged rocks that make up the ground, the sulfuric smell, they all disappear. Suddenly, the world is brighter, there are trees and flourishing bushes, the crops are thriving. The air smells of fruit, and sun, sweet as the first days of summer.

It only serves to terrify him further.

“I’m afraid.” Daemon admits, voice pitched low. It’s not something he would ever say while awake, but he fears so much for your safety, it slips out. When it does, he finds the bravery to rush to your side. “I don’t want anything to happen to the two of you.”

“Don’t be scared, silly.” You laugh, and turn to face him. Daemon reaches forward, attempting to take the babe from you. The blanket opens in the process, but instead of a baby, a rush of seawater falls out.

When he lifts his gaze to meet yours, horrified, you disappear under his hands in the exact same manner.

And Daemon screams, but no sound comes out. Tries to hold on, but water slips through his fingers every time.

Her mother sees it all. Her girl leans in, as if to kiss her reflection, and tips over. The water swallows her whole.

She runs, then. But when she reaches the pond, her fingers only grasp water.

No one in the village believes her. They forget the girl easily, busy with their newfound prosperity. The place blooms with new life.

There has to be something in this place. Perhaps it’s the witch. Perhaps it’s the curse. Daemon had never believed in ghost stories, and he had once mocked Rhaenyra’s concerns over Harrenhal, but now he has the same doubts.

His grip on reality feels flimsy at best. He had spent an entire afternoon chasing his daughter through the halls, convinced he could hear her laughter and footsteps in the corridors.

Simon Strong had jerked him out of that one, asking him to hear the inane disputes of the rest of the Riverlands. His perplexed face at Daemon’s insistence he could hear a child running around had vexed him to no end.

Another day, Daemon had been in a meeting with the lords when he had heard you singing. It was that damn story again, about the girl, and the ponds… He had been lost into his own thoughts, and ended up insulting them because he couldn’t focus.

The witch has taken to looking at him with pity. Does she walk through dreams, too? Can she see you, haunting every body of water near?

It’s late at night, and Daemon cannot sleep. He keeps hearing footsteps, and laughter. Water runs near, an intolerable murmur. He gets up, without bothering to put on his robes, and decides to investigate.

Harrenhal’s corridors are dark and empty. His footsteps echo, explaining the noise. Someone must be walking somewhere. But the water? There is nothing beyond a leak in the roof.

Daemon has a terrible headache. The infernal noise water makes is constantly in his ears, even when he plugs them. It chases him, flowing and ebbing, but never disappears.

Perhaps some fresh air might do him good. He doesn’t dare ask Alys for any further concoction, less she is the one poisoning him. He walks to the courtyard, instead.

As he crosses the dilapidated training grounds, Daemon sees you. His heart lurches. You are as beautiful as the day he married you. You wear your Valyrian robes, and hold your daughter’s hand. She is clad in a miniature set of the same robes.

Daemon rubs his eyes. It cannot be. You are not supposed to be here. Why would you be here, dressed like that? There are runes traced in blood in your forehead, and in your lips. You are fresh out of a wedding.

A flash of jealousy makes him clench his fists. Have you betrayed him? Faked your death to marry another lover? You have come to taunt him, surely. You had survived the attack, and so had your daughter, and this was a way to punish him for leaving you unprotected.

Burning with rage, he walks after the two of you. You seem calm, talking to your daughter in a low voice, and making her giggle. The two of you walk, carefree, through the Godswood.

You look so normal. Like you always did. Solid. There is nothing in you of the vengeful sea goddess that haunts his dreams and disappears under his hands. He doesn’t dare call out either of your names, for fear of alerting you he is on your tail. Daemon wants to see the bastard that you are meeting.

He has suffered all these nights, thinking you dead, and here you are, alive! You dare flaunt yourself, after taking his daughter and causing him immense pain.

“You bitch.” Daemon mumbles under his breath. He follows you outside the castle’s walls, noticing you seem familiar with the terrain. You do not pause even once, while he has to stumble over branches and dried leaves that cover deadly holes made by horse’s hooves.

Once you reach the hill overlooking the Gods Eye, you pick up your daughter, and do not hesitate to make your way down to the lake. Daemon curses under his breath. He doesn't’t dare do the same. His footsteps are nowhere near as secure as yours are while carrying a toddler down a hill.

Instead, he hides behind some trees and watches. Will your lover meet you here?

But no man steps out of the shadows. You set your daughter down and undress her, tenderly. You fold her robes, and remove yours. Then both of you walk into the Gods Eye, until the water swallows you whole.

Daemon rushes to the shore then, nearly twisting his ankle in the process. There are no robes and no footsteps in the mud. There is only the pale moon, winking at him from the surface of the water.

The girl is now a woman. She walks out of the sea one day, carrying her daughter in her arms, and hugs her own mother tight.

“I have come to visit. I wish to meet my friends too, but she is too little to take with me. Would you mind staying with her?”

Her mother, enchanted by the return of her daughter, cannot help but agree. She imagines the afternoon, spent coddling the new granddaughter.

“You have to promise me something.” The woman begs of her. “No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you must never unwrap her.”

Daemon waits for thirteen days in Harrenhal before his nephew comes face him. He marks the passing of each day through carving a mark into the heart tree at sunset.

You loved sunsets, when alive. You loved to feel the warmth on your skin, and the light reflecting on your face. Your mood had always improved when spring began, and Daemon had fond memories of days spent rolling in the sand, kissing each other until it was difficult to tell if you were flushed because of the sun or the kisses.

Aemond shows up on the fourteen day, after a moon spent terrorizing the Riverlands. His nephew had turned into a petty King, using fire and blood against anyone who stood on his path.

How plebeian. To think he had in his grasp the last beast that had seen the conquest, and he used her to burn fields and peasants. It showed the boy was still green, drunk in his newfound power.

His behavior was unbecoming of a Targaryen Prince. He treated Vhagar as if she were a mere weapon, and not the source of their power. Dragons deserved more respect than that.

Aemond doesn’t come alone. Behind him rides Alys, the witch of Harrenhal herself. The witch’s belly is swollen with child. Daemon wonders if she is fulfilling her own prophecy. Why else the fierce woman he had met during his first stay at the castle remain by his nephew’s side?

Perhaps, she knows she has to be his so the Prince who was promised is born after the extinction of the dragons. It shall not come from his line, but maybe from the one that starts with the babe in her belly.

Daemon has come to understand that he has his own destiny to fulfill too. He was never meant to have you, he realizes. You were a daughter of the sea, made from blood and foam. Daemon, instead, had been born out of fire and blood. Water and fire never mixed, and in another lifetime, they might have never had.

He had been meant for Rhaenyra, Alys had told him once. Made of flames, to burn together. But his love for you had been so strong it had allowed to defy his fate.

Aemond circled twice around Harrenhal, and then brought Vhagar down in the outer ward. Caraxes, as if sensing his rider’s unease, hissed a few flames. Daemon patted his flank, trying to soothe him. It wasn’t time yet. It couldn’t happen here.

Alys got down from Vhagar’s back, aided by her lover. When she was safely away, Aemond turned to face him.

“Nuncle, I hear you have been seeking us.”

“Only you.” Daemon had never been seeking Alys. He liked the witch enough to spare her, despite the rotten seed that had taken residence in her womb. A bastard babe was no threat to him. “Who told you where to find me?”

“My lady,” Aemond said, proudly. “She saw you in a storm cloud, in a mountain pool at dusk, in the fire we lit to cook our suppers. She sees much and more, my Alys. You were a fool to come alone.”

The witch had probably come to see if he fulfilled his destiny. It was important to her, to keep balance between the threads of fate. Daemon doubted that Aemond knew the witch was weaving with his thread too. In bringing him here, Alys had doomed him. She knew as Daemon did that both of them would die today.

“Were I not alone, you would have not come.” If Aemond was anything, it was a Hightower rat. A coward. He would face his death scared, unlike Daemon. He had made his peace with it a long time ago. You were dead. His daughter was dead. He had no further reason to live.

“Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, nuncle.” Aemond tells him. Does he see, too? This twisted mirror of himself, thirty years his younger, and yet, he knows it. Men that defy fate never live too long afterward.

“On that much we agree.” Daemon smiles, wryly. He had led a good life. Nine and forty years, and he had known it all. Even love. Especially love.

Grief never took it away. It only made the tendrils wrapped around his heart into spears, that dug in deep, and never let go.

Daemon purposefully didn’t chain himself to his saddle, so it would be easy to jump. He took the higher ground, pushing Caraxes upwards. His beloved beast. He hoped that this gave Caraxes a fighting chance.

Vhagar was much slower, due to her size. She flew wide, taking her rider over the waters of the Gods Eye.

It was a perfect summer day. The sun was setting, in the manner you had so loved in life. It tinged the water a soft gold. The usual violent currents were calm. Everything around Daemon looked warm, and inviting. The golden hour, as you called it, was upon them.

Vhagar didn’t see them, but she was rapidly approaching. Daemon ordered Caraxes to dive by Aemond’s blind side, slamming against Vhagar with such force he feared he might fall. His dragon let out a piercing shriek, and the old whore answered him with her own.

The two dragons battled against each other, throwing flames and bites. The heat was unbearable, and Daemon had to duck nearly parallel to Caraxes so he was not burnt by Vhagar’s flames.

It was as he leaned in that he saw it. The water. It showed both of the dragons grappling against each other, falling while locked on a deadly embrace. It showed the fire, and the abundant blood falling from them. But it also showed you.

You, radiant in your wedding robes, swimming lazy circles. You, with your arms extended, as if hoping to catch something. Catch him, Daemon realized.

He looked up. Alys was a small figure in the highest tower of Harrenhal. It should have been impossible to see anything from this distance, yet Daemon could swear he saw her smile.

At that moment, he understood. All of it. A circle.

Daemon jumped from his saddle.

As soon as the mother opened the wrapped bundle, a rush of seawater came out. If there was once a baby, she was now gone.

Yet, miraculously, a young woman appears from the sea, fully grown. She is naked, covered only by her hair, and of a beauty so exquisite not a single mortal would dare gaze upon her.

“Fear not, grandmother.” She says, kindly. Her hands against the woman’s cheeks feel wet. Salt from the sea, and the old woman’s tears. “I am not a child any longer, that’s all. But you will never lack for drink as long I live.”

And the young woman faces the setting sun. And slowly, she begins to dance.

Lady Shella walked the halls of Harrenhal, in silence. It had been a long time since there was anyone here she could talk to. Her husband was dead, and her daughter long married. She hardly ever visited anymore, busy with running her own household.

The servants never made for good company. They rotated far too often for her to grow attached to any of them. They always complained of footstep and laughter in the hallways, and mysterious pools of water that no one knew where they came from.

Shella knew. She wasn’t about to tell them, of course. What was the point of owning a haunted castle if you couldn’t use it to scare others?

She made her way to the highest tower in Harrenhal. Her liege lords, the Tullys, had declared for the King in the North. They were kin to him. Shella remembered little Catelyn Tully, with her copperish hair. In her youth, she had been stunning, but Shella knew she must have lost all her luster by now.

If not from having five children, from widowhood. It had sucked all the beauty from Shella, after all. She deeply missed her Walter. They hadn’t been a match of love, but of convenience. She had grown to love him regardless. Years do that, she supposed.

Shella didn’t want to lose Harrenhal. It was the last tie she had to her husband. Inside this castle, they had made their home. They had raised children. They had been deliriously happy.

But Shella had little choice. Her scouts had seen Lannister banners less than half a day away. If she didn’t surrender the castle, they would take it by force. She didn’t have enough men, or time to ask her liege for help. Resisting would only mean death.

She wanted to see it one last time, though. One last sunset. One last trip with her ghosts.

Shella made her way to the window, and waited for the sun to start lowering. As the Gods Eye turned gold, laughter began to be heard in the hallways. Rushed footsteps turning corners, little bells ringing.

“… Daemon! Don’t!” The woman laughed.

“Higher, Daddy, higher!” A girl shrieked, voice pitched high with happiness. It made Shella’s heart ache. She reminded her of her girl.

“Come on, the two of you. We are late.” The voice was deeper, more commanding. And they were. A bit late, perhaps because spring was just starting, and the days were turning longer.

Nothing could be seen, beyond slight depressions on the grass. The marks of boots running alongside bare feet.

But for a second, as the sun turned the Gods Eye an angry orange, Shella saw them. A family of three, their little girl held between the parents, jumping into the lake. All shrieking in laughter.

Prince Daemon Targaryen, his lady wife and his daughter, reunited in death like they weren’t able to be in life. Yes, Shella thought, she could not wait to see what Tywin Lannister made of these ghosts.

A/N: Hello! If you are chilean like me (I really should shift to spanish for this, and I will) Si son chilenos como yo, la historia que usé para dividir el fic es una que reconocen. O al menos ligeramente. Es la historia de la Huenchula y el Millalobo, papás de la Pincoya, con un poco de adaptación para que sea fácil de entender y calce con lo que estaba escribiendo.

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wyvernest · 8 months

Text

open arms | fantasy AU

pairing: witcher*!miguel x f!reader

> In Sapkowski's works, "witchers*" are beast hunters who are given supernatural abilities at a young age to battle wild beasts and monsters.

warnings: smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected piv, cowgirl & a bit of missionary, mentions of possible infidelity, slight angst at the end? very slight

summary: miguel returns to the reader after months of wandering the Continent, and she welcomes him with open arms

Every time you hear a horse trotting on the stone-streets of the village, your heart flutters wildly in your chest. Maybe it's him.

Only most of the time, it isn't. It's always just a soldier or a tradesman.

No. His arrival is incomparable . When it's him, the whole village echoes with the deep, steady sounds of his horse's galloping. He never slows down, until he reaches the very wooden gates of the settlement. Comes by with a storm, a strong gust that then leaves as swiftly as it arrived.

And sometimes, you almost wish another monster would start terrorizing the village. Nothing too perilous, of course, but grave enough so that the guards wouldn't try to take care of it. So that they'd wait for a Witcher.

But alas, it stays a dream. He has for sure found some other fairer maiden in the south. Yet you're still here, unwed and long-time devoted to such a cold hearted man.

But how can a cold heart hold you so? How can it make you feel so warm, so adored? Must be some kind of sorcery.

And despite your unfruitful attempts to forget the hunter, on one gloomy evening, you couldn't help but jolt to your window at yet another horse clanking its hoofs on the pavement.

Your heart races. A cloaked man. You can't see his face, but his stature is very telling. It can't be him. He gets off his horse. He enters the tavern across the road.

You release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in your chest, mentally slapping yourself for running to see who it is so hastily. You'd almost want to smack him for all the cold months he's made you endure without him, without a single word from him.

But you can't. Whatever’s holding your hand back is stronger than any pale vengeance, it's what made you rush to your window, what now made you run to your bedchamber to pick and choose your prettiest outfit.

It's nearing midnight when you hear a confident knock on your door. Formalities. He knows he could kick the whole frame down in all courtesy and you'd still jump in his arms.

You try to act surprised.

“Miguel!” You tear yourself away from your working table, just for a second before stopping in your tracks.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? And he's come to grace you with the very news of it?

He rushes to you instead; one, two strides and he's across the room with his arms around you. Not with a teary, hearty expression, but with the desperate, deep sigh of a man who had finally filled his lungs with fresh air after being buried in ice cold waters for years.

“I've missed you, I-”

You wanted to go on about how you were first afraid he'd found someone else, then how that fear turned into an image of him falling in battle, but he stopped you.

With his face in his big, warm hands, his lips meet yours in an almost barbaric kiss. If you hadn't had him in other ways before, you'd swear he was a man starved. But you're aware of how patient he can be. Sometimes.

He tries not to break it, but it's slightly difficult with his left hand now down your back and his right clutching your prettiest skirts to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up with nearly frightening ease.

His steps almost shake wooden floorboards of the house as he enters the bedroom, with you glued to his chest.

Your hands are running through his hair, a feeling you've missed so ardently. Your palms, with nothing but the memory of his soft, raven strands in them, used to feel as if whipped with burning lashes, where loving his touch had been.

“I need to have you. Let me have you,” He speaks in your face, his voice dripping with a roughness you've only ever heard from him after a hard won fight, tired yet still potent.

In response, you start twisting your delicate fingers into his collar, as if you could simply drag the garments down from him. Not before a scorching heat blazes in his eyes at your acceptance, he places you on the soft mattress and starts ridding himself of his armor. Pretty light one, you mentally note. Bastard, he knew he'd be coming to see me. Came half ready.

As his tanned body starts coming to the warm light of candles, you study his form. He had changed. His shoulders are bigger, his arms are thicker. As a whole, he looks stronger. Your panties soak at the sight.

He sits on the bed and places you on his lap, pleased with himself, and you suddenly feel as meek and shy as you were the first time he had you.

You feel him heat up beneath you as your lips explore each other in the most tender yet passionate dance you never thought you would need the same way you need air.

The softest of moans echoes in your throat, encouraging him to push your thighs apart over his groin. Hot palms run over your middle to the swell of your ass and back to your shoulders.

The hardening bulge in his pants brushes onto your bare, glistening pussy, and he feels your slickness through the thin material.

You try to take the reins with kisses on his cheeks and neck while slowly grinding on his crotch. He can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“I like having you all over me like this.” he admits as you drop your weight on him, no longer supported by your elbows, relying on gravity itself to mould you together the best it can, two desperate lovers mangled into each other’s limbs like roses sprouting upon the same rod.

A faint smile blooms its way onto his lips, his heavy-lidded, crimson eyes inescapably drunk on you. He’s looking at you like you’re his very heart and soul, the last slither of hope for life in a place filled with nothing but death. A reminder for him that his hands were not only meant to break necks and bathe in blood, but to love and hold you, so dearly, so perfectly.

Heart swelling with joy and sincere infatuation, you seal your lips with his, urged by an uncontrollable impulse to taste him as if he’s the oxygen you need to breathe. His lips feel soft and tender as they move against yours, hands naturally snaking to cup his face and hold him in the dearest way you can.

The moment you break away you feel utterly intoxicated. His now rock-hard dick nudges at your pulsing cunt, begging for your attention.

Lifting yourself from him and untangling his sturdy arms from around your waist, you lower your dripping cunt onto his still clothed erection, anchored with a knee on each side of his ample thighs. He watches closely, hypnotised by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your folds without entering you.

He fails to restrain a grunt which you can only mirror with a whine of your own as his dick twitches against your clit, your legs nearly abandoning you at the memory of the orgasms he fucked out of you on the other nights, when he came banging on your door less tired.

Something downright filthy about the picture stirs you further, driving you to submit yourself to his pleasure completely.

He grabs at your hips, guiding their sway, making little to no effort to claim you, having you simply dry hump him for sport while he’s comfortably laying back on the soft cushion.

That only until he finally deems your performance enough to satisfy him, and twists you around, fucking you into his mattress until you're soaked in his come, you imagine.

You grind against him at an idle pace, rising and falling onto his raging boner, beads of precome already staining his pants where his tip presses against its confinement. Placing your hands on his navel, you feel his feverish skin and the trail of coarse hair that disappears below the waistband.

The featherlight touch of your fingers slipping underneath his shirt makes him dizzy and unbearably needy. You start rocking your hips back and forth over the length of his hard cock, using his firm abdomen for support.

His eyes follow your movements, the languid strokes of your hips and the soft bounce of your tits underneath your night dress.

Warm, large hands creep up your sides, skating beyond the dip of your middle and up beneath the cotton of your one and only piece of clothing.

His palms tense just below your heaving breasts, their touch unbelievably addictive. You automatically arch your back to lean closer to him, wordlessly imploring him to put an end to his teasing.

“Take it off, 'wanna see your tits.” his eyes motioning for you to undress and throw the garments anywhere across the room. You feel your face heat up and cunt clench at his bold request.

Without any protest you comply, managing not to halt your grinding while your arms cross over head, disposing of the top while missing the way his pupils expand at the sight.

His hands latch onto your breasts accompanied by a hitched breath of yours, fondling and squeezing them together, veins bulging in his massive arms.

Right when you try applying a tad more pressure onto his leaking cock he grunts, signaling you to carry on just like that. You abuse the newfound weakness, glancing down only to be met with the broad head inching out of his pants with every drive of your hips. It twitches into the snug warmth of your damp folds, a telltale warning that he's close.

You speed up, confident that you may finally witness his climax without the drowning haze of your own. The dream swiftly dissolves into euphoria as he grabs your waist, swiftly switching positions and getting on top of you.

He enters you harshly, and his thrusts are furious. He doesn't need much more to reach his end, as he guides you into raw, carnal bliss, the girth of his dick spasming along your damp pussy adding to the tightening knot in your womb.

The frail bed creaks and trembles under his force, as his head comes down to nestle in the crook of your neck, his whole body nearly veiling you completely.

He comes with a thunderous groan, kissing your neck with tender, wet lips before slipping out and letting himself fall back lazily on the bed.

You're quick to nestle yourself beside him, head on his heaving chest.

“I've missed you.” he rasps, ever so slightly gasping for air.

“Where have you been?” you speak softly, yet you accentuate the question by running your hand over his toned chest, then up by his jaw, hoping it'll break him.

“Everywhere I was needed.” he takes in a deep breath, “Everywhere but here.”

You chuckle, tightening your embrace, as much as you can. Even though you're well aware the whole town will probably throw you dirty looks for months after seeing him yet again enter your house at the hour of the wolf, you didn't care.

You even found it in yourself to feel lucky with his visits. With him. You hadn't given yourself to any other man in town, other than him. But he wasn't from here. And that made him burst with pride.

“You sure you haven't been messing around while I was gone? Am I gonna have to fight a godless bastard for your hand?”

“Have you been messing around?” you ask, with pleading eyes, glistening in the low light. He looks down at you.

“I might have gotten a bit lonely at times.” He jokes, and although something stings you harshly at the thought, you decide to trust him. Miguel was many things, but a dishonorable man wasn't one of them.

You playfully push him away, just an excuse to feel the meaty muscles of his arm and stomach in the process. As if you needed an excuse.

"I'd fight any witless whoreson if it meant having you for myself properly."

You fall into slumber soundly, lulled by the soft yet raspy sound of his voice, whispering sweet nothings to you about all the things he would do, if only he wasn't bound by his lifelong duty.

I WANNA WRITE MORE WITH THIS CROSSOVER ‼️‼️

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alyrasturnz · 3 months

Note

Could you please do a really angsty fic with Matt! Only no cheating - maybe their schedules just aren’t lining up and there’s been distance between them.

I NEED a good angsty argument fic!! Happy ending please 🤞🏼🫶🏼

SAD BEAUTIFUL TRAGIC

❐ summary » as the unyielding hands of time weave their intricate patterns and the miles stretch like an endless horizon, the bond between matt and y/n is strained by the harsh dance of distance and fate. the once vibrant threads of their connection now bear the weight of separation, each moment apart a silent echo of longing.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » arguing (resolved), drinking wine, lowkey toxic!matt

❐ a/n && w/c » writers block has officially hit me • 2.33k

in the dim light of the moon, shadows dance across the room as you toss and turn in the bed you share with matt. frustration builds with each restless movement, until a groan escapes your lips and you sit up abruptly, the weight of the night's turmoil pressing heavily on your shoulders.

sleep eluded you in matt's absence, a fact he was all too aware of. the emptiness on his side of the bed was a silent testament to the void his presence filled, a void that gnawed at your peace and kept you awake through the long, lonely hours of the night.

with deliberate care, you peeled the blanket from your body, the cool air pricking at your skin as you rose. each step was measured as you made your way to the kitchen, the quiet house amplifying the sound of your footfalls. reaching for a glass, you filled it with water, the liquid offering a momentary respite from the turmoil within.

you meandered to the kitchen, your gaze lingering on the dining table where matt’s untouched meal sat, a silent testament to the evening’s unresolved tensions.

you let out a weary sigh, your steps heavy as you approached the dining table. with a sense of resignation, you lifted matt’s plate, the untouched food a poignant reminder of his absence.

you made your way back to the kitchen, each step echoing the solitude of the night. with a gentle tug, you opened the fridge, placing matt’s plate inside with a sense of finality. the door closed with a soft thud, sealing away the remnants of the evening.

matt was seldom home these days, his presence becoming a rare and fleeting occurrence. his schedule moved like a shadow across the sundial, always slipping away just as yours approached.

your own routine, bound by its own relentless march, never seemed to find that elusive moment of alignment with his. thus, you both existed in parallel realms, forever out of sync, like two celestial bodies orbiting the same star but never crossing paths.

you endeavored to quell the rising tide of frustration within you, yet the ache of longing for the love you and matt once shared proved insurmountable. it was as if the echoes of your past affection lingered in the air, haunting the empty spaces and whispering of a time when hearts beat in unison.

the once radiant love you shared, now withered and diminished, seemed to fade away even within the tender grasp of your own loving hands. it was as though the very essence of your affection had been eroded, leaving behind only the fragile remnants of what once flourished so vibrantly.

your dreams would often wander to an alternate existence, a life where matt's presence was unwavering, and his dedication to the relationship was absolute. in this imagined reality, he was fully engaged, his efforts a testament to a love that was nurtured and cherished with every fiber of his being.

every moment was imbued with a sense of completeness, a harmonious dance of two souls intertwined, each step taken with purpose and passion. in this vision, the shadows of doubt and distance were banished, replaced by the warm glow of mutual commitment and an unbreakable bond.

his presence at home was a rarity, and on those infrequent occasions when he did grace the household with his company, every conversation seemed destined to devolve into conflict. it was as though the very air between you was charged with an inevitable tension, transforming even the simplest exchanges into battlegrounds of disunity.

you harbored a fervent wish for a return to the halcyon days of yore, a time when harmony reigned and the simplicity of your connection was unmarred by the complexities that now beset it.

yet, the immutable threads of fate remain beyond your grasp, their intricate design impervious to the desires of mortal hearts.

you sighed heavily, relinquishing the water with a sense of resignation. your hand reached for a wine glass from the cabinet, the cool touch of its stem a stark contrast to your inner turmoil. with a sense of urgency, you retrieved a bottle of wine, the liquid cascading into the glass as if it could drown the weight of your thoughts.

you ran a hand through your hair, each strand slipping through your fingers as if seeking escape from the turmoil within. tears welled in your eyes, glistening with the weight of unspoken sorrow. with a swift, almost frantic motion, you raised the glass to your lips, downing the wine as though its liquid fire could quell the tempest raging in your soul.

you yearned for an escape, a sanctuary that matt once effortlessly provided, his presence a refuge from the relentless storm of reality.

the wine flooded your senses in a hazy, euphoric embrace, yet the fleeting relief proved insufficient to numb your awareness. tears streamed down your face, each droplet a testament to the relentless surge of emotions that the wine could not quell.

you angrily set the wine glass down, the forceful motion resonating with your inner turmoil. soft sobs escaped your lips, their intensity so profound that they drowned out the subtle creak of the front door opening.

matt hastily discarded his belongings, the door closing with a muted thud behind him, as he sprinted towards you with a sense of urgency.

"hey, hey, hey," he quickly murmured, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped your face, his touch both urgent and tender. he gently guided your gaze to meet his, his eyes searching yours with deep concern. "whats wrong, baby?” he cooed softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions raging within you, as your eyebrows furrowed and tears continued to cascade down your cheeks.

you harshly extricated yourself from matt's grasp, your sudden movement causing him to stumble back slightly, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion at your unexpected behavior.

“dont be like that” you sobbed uncontrollably, your body trembling with each gasp for breath, while matt furrowed his eyebrows deeply, his face etched with a blend of concern and helplessness.

"like what?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle whisper that hung in the air. he stepped towards you with tentative caution, but you instinctively stepped back, the distance between you both sending metaphorical bullets right through matt's heart, each step a painful reminder of the growing chasm.

"you never get it, do you, matt? every time i need you, you're always somewhere else, doing something else. your schedule never aligns with mine, and i'm left here, waiting, always waiting." you retort, your voice cracking as tears continue to stream down your face.

"it's not like i don't try, you know. i have commitments, responsibilities. it's not like i can just drop everything at a moment's notice." matt responds with a gentle tone, yet there's an unmistakable sternness woven into his words.

"but that's the problem, isn't it? i'm never a priority. it's always work, or friends, or something else. i'm tired of feeling like an afterthought." you retort with a sharp, incisive response

frustration begins to seep through matt’s veins, coursing like a slow-burning poison, each pulse intensifying the storm brewing within him. “that's not fair. you know i care about you. but life isn't that simple. i can't just be there all the time." he intones, his voice gradually ascending in volume

"then what do you expect me to do? just sit here and accept that i'll always come second? you don't understand how much it hurts." you murmur, your voice diminishing in volume with each word you articulate

"and you think it doesn't hurt me too? i'm trying my best, but it's never enough for you. i'm just as frustrated as you are." he exclaims sharply, his voice crescendoing with mounting frustration, each word laden with palpable exasperation

"well, maybe your best isn't good enough. maybe we're just fooling ourselves thinking this can work when it clearly can't." you shake your head slowly, your arms crossing resolutely over your chest

"so what, you want to give up? just throw everything away because it's hard? that's not how relationships work." he intones, his voice gradually diminishing to a softer timbre

"no, matt, that's not what i want. i want you to fight for us, to make an effort. but it feels like i'm the only one fighting here." you utter, your voice steeped in unadulterated desperation

"i am fighting, but it's like you don't see it. every compromise, every sacrifice, it's for us. but you only see what i'm not doing." he articulates, his voice a tapestry woven with threads of desperation and frustration, each word a testament to his inner turmoil.

"because what you're not doing is what's breaking us apart. i need you, and you're never there. it's like i'm invisible." you utter a plaintive cry, a haunting echo of raw emotion reverberating through the silence.

"you're not invisible. i see you, i hear you. but it's like we're speaking different languages. i don't know how to fix this." he murmurs in a tone laden with the weight of defeat.

"maybe there's nothing to fix. maybe we're just too different, too out of sync. maybe this is the end." you shake your head, a silent gesture imbued with layers of unspoken resignation and quiet dissent.

"i don't want it to be the end. but i don't know how to make you see that i'm trying. i don't know how to make this right." he implores with a voice tinged with the raw edges of desperation.

"maybe it's too late for that. maybe we've already lost each other in the space between our lives." you murmur softly, your words a gentle whisper that barely disturbs the air.

as the palpable tension thickens the very air around you, matt steps closer, his eyes a tumultuous sea of emotions, desperately seeking a glimmer of reconciliation in yours. each step he takes is laden with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts.

he leans in, his intent clear as he attempts to bridge the vast chasm that has grown between you with a kiss, a gesture meant to mend what is broken. but in that very moment, you pull back sharply, your movements swift and decisive, as a tempest of fury ignites within your eyes, a blazing inferno that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

"don't try to kiss me just to fix it! can't you just try to listen for once?" your voice cracks with the weight of unspoken pain. "you think a kiss will make everything better, but it won't. not this time."

matt's frustration flares, his face a mask of confusion and hurt. "i'm trying, but you keep pushing me away. what do you want from me?"

"i want you to hear me, matt! really hear me. not just with your ears, but with your heart. i'm tired of feeling like my words are falling on deaf ears." you speak in a voice thick with frustration, your words trembling as tears cascade down your face, each droplet a testament to the emotional tempest raging within.

"i do hear you," he insists, but the words resonate with a hollow timbre, echoing emptily in the cavernous silence between you, devoid of the conviction they once held.

"no, you don't. if you did, you wouldn't be trying to fix things with a kiss. you'd be trying to understand why i'm so upset in the first place." you declare vehemently, storming out of the kitchen with a tempestuous energy, striding purposefully into your bedroom, where the door slams shut with a resounding finality.

the ensuing silence is deafening, an abyss of stillness that stretches infinitely, creating a chasm that appears insurmountable.

»--•--«

as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, matt sits at the foot of the bed, his hair disheveled and his eyes shadowed with the weight of a sleepless night. his voice, barely more than a whisper, breaks the silence, "i'm sorry," he murmurs, the words laden with the exhaustion and regret that have etched themselves into his features.

“you didnt sleep” you murmur softly, your voice barely a whisper as you gradually shift to an upright position, the weight of your words hanging delicately in the air.

he disregards your assertion, proceeding to articulate every sentiment that had been lingering within him. “i promise to do better," he continues, his voice trembling slightly. "i'll try to be around more often, no matter how packed my schedule gets. you deserve more than this."

you look at him, your eyes softening despite the hurt. "matt, it's not just about being here physically. i need you to be present, to really be here with me."

he nods, swallowing hard. "i know, and i will be. i'll make more time for us, for you. i don't want to lose what we have. you're everything to me."

your voice wavers, "i just... i need to feel like i'm a priority, not an afterthought. i need to know that you care enough to make the effort."

matt reaches out, taking your hand in his. "you are my priority. i care more than words can say. i know i've been distant, caught up in work and everything else, but that's going to change. i'll make sure of it. we'll find time for us, even if it means rearranging everything."

you squeeze his hand, a small tear escaping down your cheek. "i want to believe you, matt. i really do. but it's been so hard."

he gently wipes the tear away, his touch tender. "i understand. and i'll prove it to you, every single day. we'll rebuild this, stronger than before. i love you, and i'm not going to let anything come between us again."

you nod slowly, a glimmer of hope returning to your eyes. "okay, matt. let's try. but it has to be both of us, together."

he smiles faintly, relief washing over him. "together. always."

254 notes · View notes

jeonghantis · 1 year

Text

✧ — NO INHIBITIONS, STRANGE CONDITIONS.

PAIRING ⇝ kim mingyu x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

road safety could not hold you back from wanting your boyfriend despite how stupid of a idea it is. kim mingyu was just as stupid.

TAGS ⇝ established relationship, smut, pwp.

WARNINGS ⇝ language, gn!reader but with female parts & wears skirts, distracted driving (DRIVE SAFELY PLEASE), explicit sexual content (MINORS, DNI!).

WORD COUNT ⇝ 3.7k words.

note: welp. LOL! mingyu driving drove me mad. this is 2 of 2 fics in celebration of mingyu month. a complete 180 from the first one i fink! oops! and yes i'm aware it's may now and i apologize deeply. but celebrating mingyu should be an all-time thing. the title is taken from the song leaving me feeling confident by the driver era. don't think the song would go specifically with the fic, i just liked the wording. this is completely self-indulgent so as always, not proofread hehe. not as good as i hoped it would be but i hope you enjoy regardless.

reblog for kim mingyu. thats it. (and to support me).

smut tags under the cut.

SMUT TAGS ⇝ ROAD HEAD! (dick sucking while driving), dom/sub dynamics, switch!mingyu, switch!reader, mingyu is kinda sub until he's not, reader is dom until they're not, size kink (reader is smaller than mingyu), use of the petname "darling" "baby" & "angel", dirty talk, praise (reader gets called "pretty"), degradation (whore, slut), hairpulling, mild begging, groping, oral (m), fingering (f), gagging, throatfucking, cunt slapping (once), cum eating, mingyu is ROUGH (man does not know his own strength but is caring afterwards), reader being used as a toy, cockdumb and cock hungry reader, reader probably got major oral fixation, big dick!mingyu like Big Big (could imagine mingyu being ridiculously big or reader just has small hands).

Wandering hands had become quite a shared habit, how natural it was for their fingers to gravitate towards each other. It was always welcomed, of course, when it acted as a need of comfort from the other. When there was not one moment where they were not craving for each other.

But this was a problem. Several problems. Two very conflicting problems.

First, not only is your hand caressing him at the moment, it’s artfully roving over to his crotch. And Mingyu truly loved your bold actions and might have appreciated it if it had been within the confines of their apartment. But it was in the confines of his car, in the middle of a highway.

Second, the problem to the first problem, was that this was his wet dream come true.

It’s a no-brainer what should be deemed more urgent. Mingyu didn’t want to careen their vehicle over the edge and risk their very lives for the sake of getting his dick wet.

But.

But the danger, although he knows it should, doesn’t entirely frighten him. It was a wet dream for a reason.

But Mingyu should be smart about this. He has to be smart about this.

Meanwhile, you’re thinking you may be utterly stupid about this.

Most times, you would consider yourself a cautious person—someone who would always second-guess every decision, and hell, maybe third or even fourth-guessed. Truly, you were an overthinker. Sometimes, you wished you could just stop thinking altogether.

And that time has come now. There was absolutely no question of your decision, not even a single thought process done, when you reached to palm your boyfriend’s clothed dick. You only knew that you were being ridiculous, but it was because Mingyu looked ridiculously hot right now driving the way he does, glancing at you and smiling the way he does. What the hell were you supposed to do?

What you’re saying next is entirely pulled out of the shallowest part of your brain riddled with unbridled lust. And it challenges Mingyu’s logic and worsens his agony.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” you ask innocently, peering at him with big, curious eyes.

“I might kill us both, babe,” Mingyu said, pearly canines bared when he wore a strenuous smile. He spares an urgent glance at how your hand sits perfectly atop his growing erection, nails dragging on denim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I trust that you won’t. You’re a good driver,” you claim, smiling sharply as you give him a tilt of your head. “Is that a no?”

There was no immediate response from him, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the road that lay ahead. Yet, you still caught the clench of his jaw under the flash of a streetlamp, the whitening of his knuckles. It was insanely unfair how Mingyu could still look so gorgeous when frustration twisted his features—or was it you who simply loved seeing his frustrations?

Mingyu weighed his options. Their apartment was still many ways away, he doesn’t know if he could tough it out for that long. He’s thankful the highway is nearly void of other cars, but is utterly bitter over how it stretches on seemingly forever, leaving him no room to pull over at all. He had to maintain focus on the winding paths. He tried not to think of the deft work of your hand on him. He tried not to think of how your mouth would soon replace it. But his pleasure-ridden body betrays him miserably—his hips lifting itself into a slow rut right against your hand.

“Endangering our lives just so you could fill your slut of a mouth,” Mingyu spelled out slowly, each word sharp. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yeah,” you chirp, entirely unaffected by his tone and he could practically hear the smirk in yours. “You could say no.”

He looks at you. “I could.”

“So, say it.”

A sliver of a smile as he turns away again. “I don’t think I will.”

“Oh?” The flutter deep in your stomach intensified, the anticipation having you on the edge seat almost quite literally as you’re leaning closer, adding a little more weight on his crotch. “Why not?”

“Because I dreamt of this,” he divulges, an airy sigh slipping from his lips. “Dreamt of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock in the middle of traffic, of your frustration when I’m unable to help you force my entire length down your throat.”

“How filthy,” you jest, a shit-eating grin pulling your lips wider.

A pointed gaze. “You literally just offered to suck my dick in the first place.”

A shrug. “Fair.”

Mingyu’s right hand reached for yours. The largeness of his palm fully encompasses your own as he presses down on it, applying enough delightful friction on himself for a strangled moan to get caught in his throat.

“Just do it,” he exhales, his breathing ragged. “My dick is about to explode.”

“What a poet,” You snicker and give his dick a playful squeeze which only earns more of his choked noises. But thankfully, you’re merciful as you are excited and reckless. He hears the rustle against leather as you’re maneuvering yourself, folding your legs under you. His heart beats a little loudly against his chest, thrumming up to his ears and down to his dick, as lithe, dainty fingers make quick work on his belt and the button of his jeans.

“Keep your eyes on the road for me, baby,” you say as your hand dives in to finally, finally, bring his awaiting cock out. “We both don’t want to be dead so soon before I give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“Then hurry up,” Mingyu seethes through gritted teeth.

He’s nearly at full length, and though you’ve held him countless times, you’re still marveling at the sheer size of him, how he sits heavily on your palm, throbbing thickly. Your fingers just barely come into a circle when you start to stroke him with an unhurried and leisurely pace, feeling the full extent of him.

“This hard just from me groping you?” you coo, tone a honeyed venom, as you run a thumb over his slit. “Trying to act all cool with me when you’re just as desperate to fill my slut of a mouth.”

“Baby,” Mingyu said with heavy breaths that taper off into croaked groans. “Please don’t tease.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” you tut. “I promise I’ll make you feel good, but you have to be good and keep driving. Can you do that for me?”

Mingyu swallows hard, the lump on his throat bobbing, and gives an obedient nod of his head before adjusting himself with a straightened back which might’ve been the umpteenth time he’s done so since you’ve offered your sinful proposal.

“Good,” you hum, preening at his easy compliance, and dip your head down.

Mingyu bites down on his bottom lip hard when you take one small, tentative lick at his weeping slit. A ditzy giggle bubbles up your throat when he throbs almost immediately in response and your hand squeezes at the base of his cock in return. You continue with a few more teasing flicks, lapping up the bitter taste of him on your tongue, and only when you feel Mingyu’s thighs flex and strain to jerk up into your mouth do you ultimately indulge him.

“Oh fuck,” the poor man cusses out when you down him as much as you could, your mouth a luscious wet warmth as it envelopes around him. “Holy fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

You hum appreciatively around his unbelievable girth, sending vibrations coursing down the just as unbelievable length that only has Mingyu whimpering praises more. A hand makes up for the rest of him that your mouth couldn’t quite reach just yet; it works in perfect tandem with your slackened jaw as your head begins to bob up and down on him.

Mingyu does not dare steal a glance in total fear of losing all sense of himself at what is most definitely the most lecherous view of his fantasies coming to life. His head stays firmly pinned against the leather-clad headrest, twitching eyes hell-bent on the road. But he could still hear the obscenity of it, all the wet glugs and sucks as your cheeks hollow out for him, and it does all but aid his concentration, gradually winding a burning hot coil deeply set in the pit of his stomach. The wandering habit presented itself as his right hand began to move (thanking the high heavens for making him left-handed), and glided over your back and all the way down under the impossibly short skirt you wore.

“That’s it, angel,” Mingyu drawls out in encouragement, his hand grabbing at the supple flesh of your ass. “You’re taking me so well.”

Hearing his praise and feeling his straying hand only spurs you to dip your head lower, attempting to swallow down more of him. There’s a sense of satisfaction when he bumps the back of your throat and you find that you have been able to take more than half of him in your mouth. But it’s fleeting when the latter half of Mingyu’s dream comes to light sooner than anticipated—that frustration, a consuming greed, of wanting to take him whole. And like he alluded to, you knew it wasn’t possible if he wasn’t fucking your mouth open, which is entirely out of the question. You’re still trying for some form of compensation—a hand wringing at the base, tongue lapping hungrily at the sides of his cock with lewd slurps—and it all comes out good when jerking out moans from Mingyu, but it’s short in appeasing you. It’s desperation now that’s having you creep further along his length, and it’s so so messy with the obscene amount of saliva cascading down his shaft, coating him with a wet sheen. You resist the urge to gag every time he hits the back of your throat and try to veer your focus on breathing through flared nostrils, eyes fluttering shut in concentration.

It’s laughable how easily that focus is broken when prying fingers begin to pull your flimsy underwear.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Mingyu averred, flashing a sly smile your way, before he’s gliding a calloused digit over your folds, gathering at the wetness trickling out.

Your mewls are broken and garbled, a new surge of spit gushing down, dripping on his lap. Instinctively, your hips swivel back hungrily in search of more blissful friction, as you peer up at him through wet lashes, a stray tear flowing down your cheek.

Mingyu catches it when he casts a quick glance again. He notes the utter desperation contorting your expression, the glistening cheeks a sign of your eminent passion, and something deep inside him both inflames and melts at the same time. His eyes are assessing the road when it flickers back up, and there—the greatest silver lining known to man (just Mingyu) kissing the dusky sky—is the end of the highway. He doesn’t speed for it, no, instead he forgoes it, just the slightest bit as his foot eases off the pedal. He forgoes it for the sake of securing the vehicle, for the sake of slipping his a finger inside your wet channel as a reward for the glorious way you worship his cock.

The surprised, choked-out groan you exude goes straight to his dick, quite literally. And he’s echoing it, staggered but loud enough to drown out the music flowing from the speakers.

“I’ll pull over soon,” Mingyu imparts, gently hooking the digit and stroking your walls. “Just a little longer, baby, then I’ll fuck your throat. You’d like that too, won’t you?”

You pull off him with a satisfying pop, a string of spit threading between his cock and your glistening lips that’s quickly broken when both hands replace where your mouth’s been, stroking hard and fast. You glance up at him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, holding back your moans as your hips sway back into his finger.

“Be quick,” you whisper, eyelids flickering, and you lean back down to trace the veins along his cock with your tongue. “I want all of you in my mouth. I want you to bury your fingers in me. I want you to abuse me until I'm a mess of spit and tears.”

Fuck.

Mingyu slams on the acceleration. He’s still commandeering the vehicle securely with one hand, but the finger inside you goes still, letting you use it as you please with shallow rocks of your hips and clenches of your walls. He takes a right when the road opens up and pulls up in a relatively empty parking lot very swiftly with the practiced ease of the seasoned driver he was.

Up until then, you were suckling on his tip, coaxing thick, pearly rivulets out of him onto your tastebuds. If it had been possible to be drunk off of precum, you certainly appeared to be buzzed out of your mind with how much you were giggling and lapping at him for more. You were impossibly gone in the pleasure of giving your boyfriend pleasure that you weren't given enough time to prepare yourself for the absolute reckless and barbaric nature that would be forced upon you.

Safely parked, Mingyu ignored the garbled whines when he pulled his finger away from your clenching walls as he goes to quickly undo his seatbelt. Mingyu reached for two firm fistfuls of your hair, used it as a rein to properly align your mouth for him to shove his way inside promptly without so much of a warning. Gone was his usual gentle nature, he’s completely ruthless. The power of his thrusts is terrifyingly inhumane, his sac slapping up against your chin with ease now that he waives your own comfort. He’s focused on gaining his pleasure and his alone.

“Better?” Mingyu laughs darkly. “Were you struggling all this time? Is your mouth filled up enough now? C’mon, pretty baby. Let me hear those gags.”

You do let him hear it, all the gurgles and violent retches made around him. You fucking know this’ll leave you voiceless the next day—hell, maybe for the next few days if you continue moaning against the repeated force—and yet you’re still indulging him, conceding your entire being to him almost too easily, almost too enthusiastically.

Like the sick person you were, the brutality has you practically soaking wet through the fabric of your underwear. If you weren’t in such a rough position, you might’ve reached back to relieve yourself of the incessant throbbing of your core. And Mingyu held the mantle now, your authority beaten right out of you, so you weren’t so sure if he would appreciate you doing anything else other than being his cocksleeve.

So instead, with tears a steady stream down your face and lips red and swollen, you let him abuse you, narrowing your focus on the sliding weight of his dick on your tongue, your head laxed for him to fully control with no restraints or complaints. A perfect little toy.

Your pleasurable suffering wouldn’t last for long. Mingyu was close to breaking himself. You feel his thighs tense from where you gripped him for balance, his panted moans rising in volume against your ears.

“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, you got that?” Mingyu drawled. “Every single bit. You wanted your mouth filled, yeah? You take it all, darling.”

Your responding, muddled moans are a warm wet ring around him. If you could see him, you’d find how pleasure cruelly contorts his features. It takes a couple more messy, stuttered strokes then the burning coil inside him that wound so tightly snapped so violently. A surge of warmth overwhelms Mingyu, his muscles tensing and seizing, and a long, broken noise is ripped right out of his chest, as he comes in thick ropes of white right into your mouth.

The salty, warm cum of him glides down your throat like melted cream. You do try to guzzle it all down as told, but he always comes in such heavy loads. Coughs threaten to tear your throat but you’re suppressing them with the greatest effort until hot tears streak down your cheeks, your chest heaving wildly.

“So good,” Mingyu exhales, his grip on you loosened as he takes to petting your hair with such affection as he rides out the remainders of his high. “You’re so good for me, angel.”

Satisfied after gulping down the last spurt of him, you finally let up with a small whimper, your frame quivering as you sat yourself back on your folded legs, your eyes eager when it found him. Mingyu still looked unbelievably good sweaty and flushed. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might have looked like with your hair strewn about and swollen lips.

Mingyu didn’t seem to care. He was smiling at you with great fondness as if he had not just abused your mouth like a mere plaything. He reached to wipe some excess cum on your chin with a thumb before immediately shoving past your swollen lips. Still quite pliant, you lick it up earnestly, giving another wanton moan around him.

“Fuck,” Mingyu starts, huffing out a breathy laugh. “You’re my wet dream come true.”

“You’re welcome,” you try to lilt, but it comes out raspy and painful.

Mingyu notices the wince in your expression and frowns, a hand immediately moving to cradle the side of your throat tenderly. “Does it hurt?”

“Well, you were not exactly gentle, Gyu,” you pointed out humorously, but caught sight of the slight concern lining his face and you quickly followed up with, “But I loved it a lot. It was hot. You were hot.”

Mingyu still looked concerned but at least the corners of his lips twitched at your addition. “I could tell you loved it. You took me really well, angel.”

“And I’d do it again and again,” you said, grinning. “Even though I’m pretty sure my windpipe is bruised.”

His hand lifts to hold the side of your face, a thumb smoothing over your cheek, as he looks over you for a moment. There’s a strange little glint in his eyes, and in your recovering state, you couldn’t quite place what it was, but it has your stomach churning again.

“I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?” Mingyu murmurs, head cocked to the side as he smiles.

“Could you?” you ask in turn, voice soft. “Please?”

“I’ll take care of you,” he croons, raising his hand up to brush your hair back, his fingers threading through your hair. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Mingyu reaches over you, promptly maneuvering your seat backwards. He eases you until you’re laying flat on your back, and his hands move to grip at your thighs, lifting them and spreading them wide. The breeze that hits your cunt has you trembling and you feel absolutely exposed when Mingyu only watches your tiny frame unfold before him, eyes drinking in the sight with an insatiable hunger. He brushes a knuckle over your soaked folds, tentative, before pressing it roughly against your throbbing clit. You’re whining, arching your back off the seat as a rush of searing pleasure courses up your veins.

You’re whining even louder when Mingyu draws back. You try to reach for his arm but it’s useless when it’s thickly corded with so much power.

“Looks like I didn’t ruin your throat enough if you’re this fucking whiny,” Mingyu remarked sharply with a laugh. He does reach a hand back but your excitement quickly fizzles out just as it spikes when a slap lands quick and sharp on your cunt and you’re jerking in your seat. “Sit still and wait quietly.”

You press your quivering lips into a thin line and nod your head obediently.

With a pleased smile, he pulls back once again. He fixes himself, shoving his dick back into his underwear, followed by sweeping his long hair back and away from his face. He takes his sweet time and doesn’t spare you a single glance as if you weren’t there at all, all the while you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, the anticipation simmering sickly in your stomach. Then, he’s suddenly reaching for the gear shift, setting the car in reverse, and pulling out of the parking lot.

“W-Where are we going?” you asked urgently.

“Home,” Mingyu replied casually, turning the wheel adeptly with one hand. “Where else?”

You looked down at yourself, at the compromising position he forced you in and forced you to hold. “But - ?”

As if to answer your question, his right hand roves over to you and between your legs. He starts with a press on your clit, then caresses the roughened pad of his finger down to where you leak, before bringing it right back up to start again, and again, and again.

“I promise I’ll make you feel good, baby” Mingyu echoes your words, a vicious smile pulling his lips. “But you have to be good and hold yourself up like that. Can you do that for me?”

“Are you getting back at me?” You meant for your words to come out as an aggravated hiss, but it came out pathetically as a soft whimper.

“Yes,” he responded, not wasting a beat, and peers at you, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “And because this is another wet dream of mine.”

“How lucky,” you start, taking in a shaky breath when Mingyu rubs short, tight circles on your sensitive nub. “How lucky you get to fulfill two of your dreams today.”

“It’s all because of you,” Mingyu grins and, without warning, slides two thick fingers inside you. “Now, answer the question.”

“Yes,” you gasp out immediately, the sudden breach stinging so sharply, but your walls gave a sickly delighted spasm around him anyway. Your arms come up and hook themselves around your knees, bringing it up to your heaving chest. “Yes, I can.”

“Good,” he hums, curling the digits and pressing it roughly against the sweet nerves inside you. “Tough it out because this time, I will not be pulling over.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #svt fanfic #kim mingyu smut #seventeen fanfic

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penspolin · 5 months

Text

POLIN JEALOUSY/ADVICE ONE-SHOT

Colin fights his jealousy after watching Penelope and Lord Debling dancing together at a ball, is teased by Benedict, and seeks advice from Violet.

The silver beads threading Penelope's hair seemed to glow like tiny moons. If he'd had parchment and pen, Colin might've noted the perfect juxtaposition of fiery red locks and sparkling silver. He noticed everything--the way her dress swayed so effortlessly against the floor despite her stiff grip on Lord Debling. Was it only Colin's imagination, or did her gloved fingertips hover an inch from his shoulders?

…perhaps he was only imagining it. He reminded himself that Penelope's stiffness was for the sake of propriety. Of course she’d want to touch Debling. He was a gentleman, for one, and even Colin had to admit that he had his own upper-class swagger. A little posh for Colin’s tastes, but from the looks being cast his way across the ballroom floor, Colin knew the lord had made a lasting impression on this season’s eligible debutantes.

Colin hastened for a sip of wine, only to discover that he had drained his glass. He turned away as a certain red-headed beauty twirled across the floor (more gracefully than he had ever allowed himself to notice). He nearly dropped his glass as he struck Benedict in the chest.

“Steady there, brother,” Ben said, putting a hand against Colin’s heaving chest. “What’s the hurry?” He cast a glance over Colin’s shoulder, and the pieces seemed to fall into place. “I’ll say, your friend seems to be enjoying herself. If ‘enjoying yourself’ is best expressed by a scowl, that is.” He tipped his glass. Colin shot him a glare, even though his heart lifted a bit at this last sentiment.

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” Ben said, pushing his glass into Colin’s available hand. “While you’re at the table, fetch me another drink, won’t you?”

“I’m not your waiter,” Colin huffed, stifling the urge to turn back to the dance floor once more. It was like an itch, only scratching it burned like a rash.

“You could do with a break. Somehow my ‘sturdy’ little brother has spent the night looking quite pathetic in the corner.”

“I’m not pathetic,” Colin said, and pain tightened his chest.

Ben rolled his eyes, still looking across the dance floor. “Say, maybe I ought to have a word with this Debling fellow. See if his eye for art is as keen as his eye for a wife.”

“Give him my best,” Colin grumbled, sounding more pathetic by the second.

Benedict gave him a sturdy pat on the shoulder. “And you, give Ms. Featherington your best while I do it. Now, hurry along now and get those drinks before the dance is over.” With a wink, he rejoined the sea of lords and ladies.

Colin gazed across the open floor once more. The waltz was approaching its conclusion. Pen’s hair looked on fire in the torchlight. His mind wandered to the fragments of a dream—Pen in the garden, her eyes twinkling a magnetic blue, her lips a luscious pink. He had leaned in just enough to catch the scent of her hair—like the wisteria garden, only…newer, fresher, somehow, and then—

“Colin, dear. Are you feeling alright?” His mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her brow furrowed, and he hurried to right himself, as he had taught himself to do long before Penelope had pounded her way into the forefront of his mind.

Some things, it seemed, had not changed. He had a guard up, and even his beloved mama could not crumble it.

“Very well, mother,” he managed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Merely...looking for a refill.”

“Not feeling up to a waltz tonight, I take it?” The look she gave him suggested she knew there was a particular reason for it—Colin was not one for skipping dances.

He had been avoiding his mother, he realized. Was that a flicker of hurt in her eyes? More than his brothers or sisters, Violet Bridgerton had always had an eye out for these things. And if that was the case, should he not be using her knowledge to his advantage?

“Mother,” he began, aware of the blush suffusing his cheeks. “Forgive me, I know we are in company, but I must ask. Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?”

She smiled, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Lovely eyes, so open and trusting. He suddenly hated himself for having avoided her, even if it was unintentional. Perhaps it was because of this conversation that he had kept himself from her.

And something told him that she knew this as well as she whispered, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

#bridgerton #polin #bridgerton season 3 #polin bridgerton #lord debling #polin fanfiction #polin one shot #one shot #Penelope featherington #Colin bridgerton #polin fanfic #Bridgerton fanfiction

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cryptidclaw · 1 year

Text

Whisperingclan Year 1!

Introducing Whisperingclan! my very haunted clangen clan with a terrible leader!!

I drew these guys MONTHS ago so this art is kinda old now T-T I finally am posting them tho...

I kinda want to draw more yearly updates but I may not draw every cat... it depends on how im feeling and how much time I have :P

...

Whisperingclan lives in the mountains next to the territory of their origin clan Roaringclan. Many of the clan founders were a part of a coup in Roearingclan to make Tempeststar, at the time Tempestwhorl, deputy or leader... they were instead defeated and banished.

The founders wandered together through the territories outside of the clans... as they drew nearer to the mountains they began to hear strange whispers on the wind. Following these whispers they found themselves deep in the mountains in a cave filled with crystals that seemed to whisper with a chorus of their Starclan ancestors.

That night they slept in the cave, and in her dreams Tempeststar was named a leader of a new clan, Whisperingclan, by Starclan themselves. The new clan now calls themself the clan closest to Starclan, and they have made their camp within the Whispering Cave claiming that they are its protectors and the only cats who can be trusted with it's power.

...

I am now continuing this clan's story with updates for each moon!

First Update HERE!

...

Below is each cat from the lineup + a description of their character and what they have done in the clan's first year!

Tempeststar!

Tempest is a very cold and cruel cat who acts purely for her own gain and power, she HATES when others undermine her or disagree with her. She uses the fact that Starclan spirits guided her clan to the Whispering cave as proof that her new clan, and her as it's leader, is the most close to Starclan and must not be questioned no matter what. She doesn't truthfully care much about Starclan, beyond what they can do for her, but she likes to but on a devout follower act to get what she wants and come across as holier than thou.

So far Tempeststar's leadership has been filled with her "teaching" cats who stand up to her lessons by attacking them and forcing others to help her. These common demonstrations have lead to her almost always having injuries and the death of two clanmates. Ravenblur was the first to die, he had followed Tempest's orders in attacking his previous apprentice but succumbed to the injuries he sustained. Jaggedlark, the cat Raven had attacked, died next, her determination to call out Tempest needed to be stopped.

Tempest likes to find cats who she can manipulate and use to do her bidding, her original cat she used for this was Ravenblur, who was happy how maim and kill for Tempest. Now it is the ex-kittypet Creekslip (who was the one to kill Jagged) who is less enthusiastic about her unspoken job as attacker and executioner

Tempeststar also became mates with her deputy Blizzardchase and is now expecting their first litter! They are both very evil so their children will be very messed up im sure <3

Blizzardchase!

Blizzard is a cocky cat, she is well aware of how strong and skilled she is and she is not afraid to make that known. She deeply respects Tempest and was one of the first cats to join her coup. Along with respecting Tempeststar, Blizzard also has big gay feelings for her and was NOT afraid to share this, she decided that evil woman would be her mate and she wooed her (probably with evilness) until she got Tempest to fall for her lol.

Blizzard hasn't been up to much this year other than normal deputy duties and being in love with her evil wife... she trained Mossleaf but managed to impart none of her attitude and outlook on life to the young cat. Blizzard is currently doting on her mate and is very exited to see her kits next moon.

Bramblespeck!

Bramblespeck was not always a healer, she was a warrior in Roaringclan, but she joined Tempest's rebellion as she had always looked up to her... She was banished alongside everyone else and was the first cat to begin to hear the whispering, she was the one to lead the way to the cave and through this she realized she had been chosen to be the clan's healer.

Bramble has found her new job difficult as she only had warrior training, but luckily Frostfleck had plenty of healing knowledge that he could share with her. Frost has really been her saving grace this year as he always takes over for her when she gets injured, which seems to be quite often, she's so accident prone. Bramble is also super relieved that Whiskers joined the clan since they really needed another healer...

Whiskers!

Whiskers is a cooky lady with a fascination for the stars and herbs. She began to hear the cave's whispers while wandering alone and followed them straight to a Whisperingclan patrol... after hearing of clan life she decided that being a healer would be the perfect role for her in life and asked to join the clan. The clan is wary towards letting in too many non-clan cats but they need more members and healers so they reluctantly agreed.

Whiskers can often be found staring wide eyed straight into the cave's crystals, studying the movements of the stars, or telling cats off for not properly respecting their ancestors.

Creekslip!

The resident blorbo, absolute soggy sad beast... she is going to cat hell unless she stops this shit lmaooo

Creekslip has extreme abandonment issues and a fear of not being excepted, and left behind. Her twolegs abandoned her in the woods and left her to learn how to survive on her own, she's strong now, but she is desperate for a home. Creekslip joined Whisperingclan on their third moon, she felt a pull to this place after wandering the woods close to the mountains, she now questions every choice that brought her here, but she cant leave... she cant handle being alone again.

A moon into being in the clan Creekslip was given an apprentice, Sunpaw, as a chance to prove herself, but she became ill soon after, and Tempeststar took on much of Sunpaw's training. Creek could feel Tempest's judgement towards her... she failed at the first task she was given, and she was determined to prove herself to the clan and the leader. Tempest could sence this desparation and she saw the potential in it...

When Jaggedlark once again stood up to Tempeststar and Tempest called on Creek to aid her in teaching the young cat a lesson... Creek was desperate for a chance to prove herself and went through with it, she had too... Jagged died later due to the injuries Creek delt her... this haunts her. Despite this however Creek continues to be Tempest's new cat to call on to beat fear and submission into the clan. Creek is to fearful to stop, but she hates what she has now done, and continues to do.

Anyways I love her she keeps committing crimes but she is so sad :(

Frostfleck!

He has Whitestorm vibes, but like if Whitestorm was a part time healer.

Frostfleck was a loner and joined Tempest's group before they found the cave and became a clan. He isn't into all the bad vibes of the clan but he likes the idea of being in a clan and having community, plus there are plenty of good folks in the clan and he choses to stick close to them. Frost has lots of knowledge in healing though he enjoys warrior duties more, he is an unofficial part time healer, and he takes over whenever they need more help in the healer den! (in game I make him a healer when i need more healers , these cats hurt themselves so often T-T)

Skipspot!

My kind transboy, i love himb , I feel like he just joined the clan to make friends and have community.

he has barely done anything because he just joined the clan, but he has already befriended Sunmane and gave her advice on telling Mossleaf how she feels... ig I can thank this man for finally getting Sun to confess to Moss lol.

Butterflyfreckle!

Butterfly is like the opposite of Creekslip, she was a kittypet but she chose to leave her home for adventure! She is confident in herself and is great at making friends, she keeps away from the bad parts of the clan and just enjoys herself. She has done pretty much nothing this year though hehe.

Weedpatch!

Weedpatch was Tempeststar's apprentice and she convinced him to join her coup through this, he did so mostly out of fear and also because his cousin Jaggedpaw and her mentor had agreed to join as well... Weed always looked up to Jagged.

Both Weed and Jagged regretted their choices to follow Tempest, but it was too late, and they were facing the conciquences of decisions they made as dumb kids. Jagged became angry after the banishment, but Weed just became... quiet. He doesn't like to get involved in any of the clan conflicts, he stays by himself as much as he can with Tempest having been his mentor. He used to spend most of his time with Jaggedlark, she was his best friend, but then she was killed, he doesn't like to talk about Jagged anymore. These days, Weedpatch, living up to his name, copes with his trauma by being high on catmint half the time.

Mossleaf!

Mossleaf was a kit in Roearingclan, the banished cats literally just stole her, she is actually the Roaringclan leader's daughter, hence the stealing, they wanted some vengeance. Roaringclan think Moss is dead but nope! She's just in the spooky cave cult!

Mossleaf is very aloof and strange, she likes to listen to the Whispers, and while most cant decipher them it seems like Moss might actually be able to hold a conversation with them. Bramblefleck thought Moss should become a healer but Tempest promised to give Blizzardchase the next apprentice available, despite this Moss doesn't seem to mind being a warrior though.

Moss became very close to the other apprentice at the time, Sunpaw and they became so close it seemed one could never be found without the other. They seemed to have crushes on each other from the start and it was no surprise when Sunmane confessed to Moss and they became mates soon after they both became warriors. I love them both sm they r cuties <3 (the not evil gays)

Sunmane!

Sunmane is my favorite design... I love her lion mane and her bangs sm she is so CUTE

Sunmane joined the clan as a kit and before they found the cave. Her grandfather Flowermoon was trying to find a group to support them both, Sun's parents were gone and Flower was getting old... the strange group of cats was the best choice they had at the time.

Sunmane likes to stay positive and tries to lighten the mood with some jokes. Her apprenticeship was tough, and now that she is free from Tempeststar she is staying far away from her. She spends almost all her time chilling with her mate Mossleaf and trying to enjoy her life despite all the things that go down in the clan.

Larkcaw!

Larkcaw is the starclan guide and was the main spirit to guide the cats to the Whispering Cave... she is evil actually, how did she get into Starclan??? I'm pretty sure the only reason she is in the good place is bec she didn't obviously do anything evil... she just plotted.

Lark decided to lead her great granddaughter Tempeststar to the Whispering Cave, she convinced other spirits that a clan living there would be a GREAT idea, despite the fact that it is actually very bad for cats to live in a cave full of that much Starclan energy. It can easily mess with a cat's mind, especially those with a stronger Starclan connection.

Larkcaw really just wanted control over a clan, and what better than making a new clan backed by a powerful Starclan source?

Flowermoon!

Flowermoon is Sunmane's grandfather and became her caretaker after her parents died, he joined the group because he knew he needed cats who could care for Sun and him as well since he was getting old, he is unsure of his decision, Tempeststar is cruel, but he knows Sunmane has found friends and joy in the clan despite it all. Before his death Flowermoon spent much of his time telling stories to the kits and apprentices, he passed away of old age, and now watches over his granddaughter <3

Jaggedlark!

Jaggedlark was Ravenblur's apprentice back in Roaringclan and due to this she had spent much of her apprenticeship around Tempest and her followers. She was convinced that the coup was a good idea and even played a role in convincing her cousin Weedpaw of the same thing. After the coup and subsequent banishment however, Jaggedpaw began to see the truth in what kind of a person Tempest was... she grew to despise the leader. Jagged became a warrior on the clan's first official moon, but Jaggedlark became even more confident in speaking out against Tempeststar's actions after this and this would sadly lead to her demise.

On the same moon that she became a warrior, she angered Tempest by questioning one of her decisions, Tempest called on Jaggedlark's own previous mentor, Ravenblur, to attack Jagged alongside Tempest to teach Jagged a lesson. Jagged would end up wounded from the fight, but not nearly as much as Ravenblur who died of his injuries a moon after... Jagged was devastated, her mentor had attacked and betrayed her trust, but she had killed him, didn't that make her just as bad?

A few moons later Jagged would end up being made an example of again when she began speaking out against Tempest even more than before, even questioning her place as leader... Jagged would die like her mentor, dying a moon later from blood loss.

Ravenblur!

Ravenblur died almost immediately, but i hate him, I sent him the the dark forest >:)

Raven was one of Tempeststar's biggest followers (a Darkstripe to Tigerstar sort), he did anything Tempest asked of him, even attacking his own previous apprentice Jaggedlark. He is VERY mad that Jagged ended up killing him, he feels he deserved more from life... he wanted more power like Tempest and Blizzard, and Jagged took that away from him...

#clangen #cryptid plays clangen #whisperingclan #warrior cats #warriors #warriors ocs #warrior cats ocs #fanclan #warriors fanclan #warrior cats designs

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gretavanlace · 10 months

Text

Sugar II (part 6)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, illusions to cheating, illusions to oral sex (f rec), language, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, phone sex, etc

Your phone is lying on your chest when it begins to vibrate. Pretend you weren’t waiting for it all you want, your self-deception is laughable even to you. But isn’t that what you’ve become? A miserable joke who spurns the truth with a smile on her face and untruths in her heart.

Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others, Dostoevsky once said. Wise and brilliant, he was. He also loved someone he shouldn’t have too deeply to let them go.

He is beside you, arm draped across your middle, forehead tucked against your shoulder…so placid and secure in his place next to your wandering mind. So blissfully unaware and peaceful as he dreams of things you don’t care enough to wonder about. But hasn’t he always been? Unaware, that is? He has lived in the dark, oblivious to the fact that he has never truly cradled your heart in his hands.

You are a wicked, black-souled creature, and no one knows that better than yourself. He doesn’t deserve this, and he never did.

Maybe you shouldn’t answer. Maybe. But you will, and you do.

Slipping out of bed like a phantom, you move through the house on silent toes, creeping along until you’re folded into the chair in the far corner of the living room.

“What took you so long?’ His voice drifts out, lazy and quiet, “Hiding from Mr. Wonderful again, are we?”

“You have to stop calling me like this.” You’re quiet, but not like him. Your quiet stems from deceit, and some inexplicable fear of what? Getting caught on the phone? And that’s all this is, right? Just a conversation with an old friend? There’s that self-deception again.

“Stop answering, then.” He counters coolly. Unbothered and wholly aware that that won’t be happening.

“How was the show?” You ask, rather than comment on the ridiculous confidence laced through his tone like sex on his tongue.

“Good.” He sighs, and you can picture his flippant, nearly shy shrug so clearly it grips your heart tightly for a breath. “I may have had a whiskey or three too many. May have tripped. May have fallen. May not have been very rock and roll.”

Your soft giggle tightens his heart just the same, but he doesn’t tell you that. “Did you play through?”

“Of course I played through,” He scoffs with feigned offense. “Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“Then I think that’s very rock and roll, Jake.” The smile won’t leave your voice. “Besides, you misjudged those stairs, don’t blame the whiskey. You should wear your fucking glasses.”

“Oh!” Now he sounds incredibly pleased with himself, dragging the word out like the cat who ate the canary, “Sounds like my sugar caught the show…”

“I may have popped in to peek at a livestream.” You concede, curling down into the chair to get comfy.

“Groupie.”

Pulling the throw off the back, you sling it over your bare legs and shake your head at his nonsense “Miss my Sammy, that’s all.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs.

“Fuck you, too.” You toss right back, but you both hear the love hidden behind those terrible words.

“You miss my stupid kid brother so much, why don’t you come and see him? I could have you on a plane tonight. How long would it take you to get to the airport?” There’s a sincerity in his offer that makes you long to pack a bag and go.

“Jake…”

“Should I send a car, or do you think Mr. Wonderful would mind driving my girl?”

Little shit.

“Stop calling him that.” You scold with little conviction.

“What should I call him then, baby? Since you won’t tell me his name…”

Fighting to sound steadfast, you square your shoulders and issue a warning you don’t feel a drop of in your bones “I’m gonna hang up.”

“Liar.” There’s that gentle laugh of his that echoes through your mind all hours of your lonely days. “What did you do today, sugar? Tell me.”

“Um,” you pick at the blanket absently and search back through the monotony. “I had a work thing. Then I went to the supermarket. Saw a movie. I smuggled a bottle of water inside in my purse like a criminal.”

“I should alert the authorities, but they’ve probably already got your wires tapped.” He’s teasing, but he suddenly sounds so sad. “Did you go to the movies with him?”

You hesitate, which tells him everything without a word.

“Damn,” he’s so quiet now. “I hate that, sweetheart. I hate that so fucking much.”

It makes no sense, he knows you’ve just crawled out of the bed you share with him, he knows that a ring rests on your finger right now - he knows. So why does he sound so broken-hearted? Why this?

“You just go around doing stuff with him, you know?” He clarifies as though he’s heard your unasked question. “Simple little things. The movies. The market. Dinner with your friends. Bookstores. We never really got to do those things together.”

It surprises you, though you aren’t sure why…he’s always been this way, soft and romantic about the strangest things. “You’d want to go to the grocery store with me?”

He laughs as you verbally poke at him to lighten the mood. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“That’s good. Because I loathe going to the gynecologists alone. Care to attend my Pap smear, Jakey?”

He laughs again, but this time, it’s halting and loud… your favorite of all his laughs, “Absolutely, I do. I’ll steal the stirrups and take them home to use later. The doctor will see you now, sugar.”

You’re laughing now too, likely a bit too loudly “You’re so fucking weird. I feel like I’m talking to Josh.”

“Spending too damn much time with him lately.” He offers by way of excuse, “his shit is rubbing off on me. The other day I briefly considered a perm.”

Your laughter trails off with matching sighs, “I should go.” You say it, but you don’t want it.

“No, you shouldn’t.” He argues quietly, and with a strange tone…he’s fighting something.

“What is it?” You press delicately.

“I just,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts before pouring them out to you. “I just thought you’d be back by now…but you’re still there, with him. And I’m still here.”

“Jake,”

He doesn’t allow for you to finish whatever it was you were about to say that he doesn’t care to hear. “Hush, baby…I know. Do you miss me?”

“Yeah,” you secret into the phone, stealing a glance down the hall. “I miss you very much.”

“Good.” He has quieted to match your whisper. “How much do you miss me? More than Sam?”

“Yeah, I miss you more than Sam,” you see? This is why you’re a bad fucking person. “But like I said, I should go.”

“Why?” There’s that terrible, beautiful rasp again, the one that fails to belie how hard for you he likely already is. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to slide your hands into your pretty panties for me just like you did last night, and the night before, and the night before that?”

It’s a knee jerk reaction that you can’t explain when your finger jabs at your phone to end the call.

He calls back right away, and right away, you answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He taunts into the phone with a grin dripping from his accusation. “Don’t you dare hang up on me. Have you forgotten your manners, little girl?”

“Can’t we ever just talk?” You’re struggling to remain on solid ground, but for what? You want nothing more than to sink into him. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

“Other than what?” He counters. “Other than fucking you? Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I think about loving you, and lying beside you like that fuck gets to do. Taking care of you, making you laugh, cooking for you, and drawing you baths, and going to the goddamn movies to watch you smuggle in bottles of water, but you won’t let me have any of that, will you, sugar?”

“I—“ you’re shocked into silence.

“Right.” He agrees, as if you’ve said something poignant. “So forgive me if I indulge where you see fit to allow.”

“Jake, this isn’t right…” oh, don’t you sound righteous? “It has to stop.”

“Isn’t right for who?” He is rife with condescension, “For him? Ask me if I give a fuck about him. Not to ruin the surprise, pretty girl, but I don’t. And maybe you do a little, maybe you do even more than that. Maybe you care more than I’d ever want to know, but you’ll never care enough for it to matter more than you and I.”

No one has ever seen you like Jake sees you…and it is both intoxicating and frightening.

“You want to hang up? Hang up. I won’t call you back tonight.” There’s an edge to his promise, but you know better than to believe it, and you’re thankful it's a lie.

“I don’t want to hang up.” You should want to…but you can’t imagine giving him up right now.

“I love you, sugar.” He breathes, and it’s the loveliest song you’ve ever heard. You want to close your eyes and drift away into it like a symphony. There are cellos and violins in those words, magic and pain more beautiful than anything else you’ve ever known.

“I love you, Jake.” You want him to feel those same things living and breathing inside your own words, but they feel so lacking.

“Do you know what I did this morning?” He questions. You can picture his face so perfectly, and you long to touch it, to simply run the back of your hand down his cheek.

“Hmm?” You hum, still lost in the daydream of being near enough to touch him, to soak in the warmth of his skin.

“I tuned the piano in our front room.”

You know right away that he means the house he visits in the corners of his mind, the place he keeps just for you.

Your gaze has drifted out the window. If you look hard enough, you can almost see the house in the distance, windows glowing golden with light and love “You did?”

“I did. You’re teaching the girls now. I wanted it to be perfect for the four of you.”

“I don’t know how to play the piano, Jakey.” You tease, staring harder still at the mirage of your make believe home.

“Yes, you do. I taught you. You took to it right away, and now you’re better than Sammy, even. You play like an angel. And sometimes, when the girls are asleep, we make love on it and scatter notes around the room in the night.”

Your hand finds its way into your panties all on its own, but it’s innocent somehow, gentle. “We make love on the piano?”

“We make love everywhere, sugar.” He hushes, “I’ve slipped inside of you against the maple tree in the backyard in the Autumn while it drops its leaves at our feet. I’ve nestled my face between your thighs on the porch because you like to watch in the moonlight. Bent you over the kitchen sink so you’ll forget about the dishes, in a closet or two when the girls were too busy to notice, in the dirt in the garden, everywhere.”

A soft moan you attempt to swallow escapes you as your fingers sweep, wet and warm, across your clit.

“What was that, sweetheart?” The smugness in his query is so loving you forget to be annoyed with it, “Are you touching yourself imagining all the places I’ve made you mine? All the places I’ve taken you and made you shake, over and over and over?”

“Tell me,” you beg, slipping your leg over the arm of the chair, opening yourself up for him, offering something he isn’t here to take. “Talk to me. Tell me.”

“That’s my girl,” are you imagining the sound of his zipper through his praise? “What do you want to hear? I’ll talk to you all night, sugar…talk to you forever. Until my voice gives out.”

“The porch,” Another brush against your aching clit, another airy moan you fail to quiet, “Tell me about on the porch.”

“Yeah? You want to hear all about how I lick your pretty pussy on the front porch until you’re dripping down my chin? Want me to tell you about how good you taste, and how sweet you sound when you whine and rock against my mouth?” His voice is like sandpaper smoothing out the frayed edges of your heart. And you most definitely heard his zipper.

“Jake, please…” you would give nearly anything for him to materialize in the room. To listen to his boots clip across the hardwood as he moves, closing in on you until you’re trembling with anticipation.

“Shh, sugar…” he clicks his tongue in mock sympathy, “We wouldn’t want to wake Mr. Wonderful. He doesn’t belong on this porch with us, does he?”

“Tell me.” Your demand falls short through another shaky sigh.

“It’s late, baby,” you can hear it now, the rhythmic, slick slide of his fist along his cock, “and we really should go inside and go to bed, but I can’t take my eyes off of you, you look so fucking stunning in the starlight. You’re curled up next to me in the thinnest, whitest nightie, and I can see the tops of your thighs. So soft and smooth. And I only want to kiss them, but the second I’m on my knees you’re spread open for me like you’ve been waiting for my mouth.”

You’re so wet you can almost pretend your fingers are his tongue drawing tight circles exactly where you need it “And then?”

“Then I slip your panties off, and you give me a little shit about it just for show, but you shut up quick when I start licking along the insides of your thighs. You smell so fucking good, and you taste like heaven, and my cock is so fucking hard for you, but I don’t care about that, all I care about is getting my mouth on you.”

“Do I really taste that good, Jakey?” You pant, arching away from the back of the chair as you slip inside your warmth and fish for compliments.

“You do, baby.” His breath drags in and out of his lungs hard and fast. “You taste so sweet…prettiest, pinkest pussy I’ve ever kissed, you taste like home, you taste like my sugar.”

“Fuck, I’m—“

“Slow down.” He interrupts, sounding gentle in a way he seldom does when he’s hard and throbbing for you. “You just go real slow for me and listen.”

You nod, and though he can’t see you, he seems to feel it all the same.

“I’m on my knees against the porch you helped me strip and sand, and you’re spread open for me on the swing. It creaks every time you move. Your hands are in my hair, but you’re being such a gentle girl, fucking your lovely cunt up into my mouth, begging me softly to suck your spoiled little clit, begging me to make you cum.”

With your fingers fluttering light as air, you can almost imagine it all to be real, and you’re close…so close.

With a choked gasp of your name he pauses, but recovers in a blink, “You’re whining for my fingers, but I want to get you there just like this. I don’t want anything in the way when you finally let go on my tongue. I want to drink you down, baby…every drop. It’s all mine, and I want it. And you let me have you that way, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, writhing in the chair until the blanket falls away, forgotten.

“And you’re going to be such a good girl for me, huh?” That, leading, teasing tone has joined the party, and your stomach is twisting and turning, wringing the lust out of your very soul, “You’re going to be the sweetest little sweetheart and cum right in my mouth because I’m just so fucking thirsty, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Jake…” you’ve hardly made a sound, your constricted throat won’t allow for much more, “Say it again.”

He knows what you want, and like always, he gives it to you without question or thought. “Want you to cum in my mouth right here on the porch, you beautiful fucking filthy girl. I want you, sugar…c’mon and make a mess on my tongue.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you’re spread wide and thrusting into your own touch, but it’s Jake you feel…he’s everywhere, all around you, you’re drenched in him.

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” he soothes, sounding near the end himself, “Because you know how badly I want it, and you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl,” you whimper, desperate for more more more… “I’m your fucking girl, Jakey. I love you…”

“Love you too, sugar,” a growl rumbles out of him low and menacing. “Love you so fucking much. Come on, baby, c’mon…”

With a fist drawn to your mouth and your teeth dug in deeply, you let it happen. Welcoming that sparking, searing, electric bliss only he seems to be capable of gracing you with, no matter how near or far he happens to be.

You’re quiet somehow, but he doesn’t seem to need anything more than your muted gasps to get there with you. Though on his end, he sounds feral and violent…like the beautiful, seedy underbelly of something you shouldn’t want. Pornographic and obscene. Improper. Dirty. Wrong. Perfect.

With the calm of the afterglow, comes the shame. The guilt. The self-hatred. He knows it all too well already, and rather than drawing attention to what has just happened, he shifts focus to help you through.

“I might order room service. If you were here right now, what would you want? That’s what I’ll get.”

“Hmm,” you think it over, kicking the blanket up from the floor to recover a bit of modesty, “Soup sounds good. Broccoli cheddar if they have it.”

“Soup?” There’s that wide open laugh of his again.

“Yes.” You pretend-pout. “And don’t laugh at me. It sounds divine.”

“Soup it is, sugar.” He sounds soft and a little unlike himself. “We’ve got a small break coming up. It’s only a couple of days, but what if I came to see you?”

“Jake,” you’re preparing to wage a loving war, though you want to see him more than you want the air you breathe to quench your lungs.

“I just want to take you to the movies, that’s all,” he holds up his metaphorical hands innocently. “Will you go see a flick with me? No illegal bottles of water necessary.”

“You want to go to the movies?” You laugh at the idea of it all. So PG in a manner so… not Jake.

“Yep.” He sounds positively delighted at the mirth in your response. “Bring Mr. Wonderful, we’ll have a great time.”

You roll your eyes, stretching out your limbs, which have been tense and contorted for far too long, “Oh, don’t be silly, Jacob, like I would ever share you with Mr. Wonderful.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #gvf fic #fanfic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiskza #gvf jake #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake greta van fleet

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inaconstantstateofchange · 5 months

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BG3 AU where Wyll's self-sacrifice in saving Baldur's Gate – from cultists of Tiamat, the queen of evil dragons, no less – at great personal cost creates the barest beginnings of a bond to the still-slumbering Ansur. After all, that stymied, accumulated draconic power would have had to dissipate somewhere, and would it not make sense for it to be drawn to the lodestone of a necrotic-energy suffused dracolich?

It would give Ansur a bit of a jolt toward waking, but not enough to bring him to full awareness. The part of him that remained curious, and hopeful, and mourned its lost connection to a bright spark of mortal devotion and nobility – in retrospect, lost to him perhaps even before Balduran’s transformation – latched on to that new path, following it to its end in the brilliant, marred soul of Wyll Ravengard.

After everything, after his father returns to the city, and Wyll... leaves it, he dreams. There’s a different, recognizable creature every time. It starts very small, a little fish in a pond he finds himself sitting by. He is tired and worn from keeping up his mask of careful good cheer, and his body aches from the scuffles it has been forced into. Mizora seems to get some entertainment from sending him after quarry just slightly above his level, or with not enough information to prepare himself adequately. He is learning quickly, but never quite quickly enough, it feels. Here, in this dreamscape, his eye socket still aches, but it is comfortingly empty of the stone that sits within in in the waking world, its chilling weight reminding him always of his mistress’s leash.

He trails his fingers within the pond, and the little fish darts away, a flash of blackened bronze scales. He can’t blame it; he’d hide from himself if he could, too. He says as much to the little creature, and fancies it moves a little closer to the entrance of its little hiding hole. Charmed, and encouraged by the thought that, after all, who else could he possibly speak to about any of this, he settles back against a small outcropping of rock alongside the pool, leaving his fingers bobbing gently in the water, but letting his eyes close and his attention wander.

He tells the little thing about his most recent quest — he likes to call them such sometimes, in the privacy of his own mind, because it lets him pretend that they are anything as glamorous and heroic as the future he dreamed for himself, Before. Even more privately, he draws a mental distinction between the quests he is allowed to take on of his own volition, and the jobs that Mizora sends him on, to further her own unknowable ends. Thus far, they don’t seem to have been anything too horrible, but he fears that such will not always be the case. What can he do about it, however? This was his bargain for the lives of every resident of the Gate, and his own acts at Mizora’s direction have not even come close to outweighing that number.

He is broken from this too-familiar thought spiral by a distinctly unfamiliar – and unexpected – brush of scales against his fingertips. He starts, briefly, but keeps his calm, and merely cracks open his eyes to look down at his little friend. It is poised to dart back into its crevice at the slightest motion, and he smiles down at it, keeping his fingers as still as he can.

“Have no fear — I will make no attempt at you, I swear it. At least one of us ought to be free.”

The little fish makes one last brush against his outstretched hand before darting away again. He fancies it swims with less frantic caution, this time, and counts it a victory enough. When he wakes, soon after, the memory of the strange dream does not fracture apart in the way of most dreams, but seems to tuck itself away, coming to the forefront of his mind only when directly called upon.

[Now with Part 2] [and 3]

#i have more i'd like to write for this but this is where it's at for now #the themes of the two of them just work so well together i can't stop rotating them in my mind #wyll makes ansur remember what it is to be noble. ansur reminds wyll that he too is of the Gate - its very heart - and in no way expendable #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 au #baldurs gate 3 #wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 ansur #ansur #wyll & ansur #my writing #bg3 spoilers #bg3 act 3 spoilers #(forgot to add those ones before VERY SORRY)

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naffeclipse · 1 month

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Wave

Reader x Mer!Map Bot

Commission Info

I have the honor to write dear @craykaycee's Mer Map Bot OC set in the world of Deep Dreams with a reader who suffers from memory problems! This has everything from hurt/comfort to good ol' angst, but it's sweet in the end, don't worry. This was so much fun to write, ah! Happy reading!

———

The stars glimmer around you, rippling in a space like a black, engulfing sea full of comets and far planets that pierce the distance with their tiny light. You float within it, held safely in a large, clawed hand. Only three giant fingers with razor-sharp talons surround you. How strange. How beautiful. You want to admire him for a little longer.

Your dreams have never been kinder to you.

A face looms above you, colossal and dream-like, but adoring. Eyes, pale and silvery like moonlight upon water, soften as he looks over you. Though you are held in a giant’s palm, you hold no fear. Though you have no memory of this place, of this being, a reassurance of safety blossoms in your chest. A sweeping warmth like tide pools sitting under the sun covers you, and you smile back.

Go to the water.

You tilt your head in confusion. What is he talking about?

Go to the secluded beach.

He is almost urgent. He lowers himself towards you on your hand, but the speckled stars of the dream are beginning to fade. The creature’s brow pinches. He warbles a low sound of a plea but gradually, slowly, your eyes close, and the darkness takes you under.

With a jolt, you sit straight up in your bed. A brush of something distant but so terribly close to your dream is at your fingertips. As you clutch the edges of the covers, you feel it slip further and further out of reach, until you are only left with a foggy recollection of something. The outline of a missing piece. The emptiness of a hole.

No. Come back.

A pang of sadness fills your heart.

What was it? Where did it go? A memory or a dream?

A heat pulses behind your rib bones. You hold still, anchored by the comfort, but where it comes from, you can’t say.

Through the haze of your memory, a phantom voice lingers. Though muffled and inarticulate, deep within you, you hear the urge as if discerning words from a whisper across the room, shielded behind hands.

Go to the water.

An image softly presses into your thoughts. A secluded beach as viewed from out at sea, like a boat coming in to dock at the harbor. Not just any secluded beach—the one you’ve been spending most of your time at. It’s your vacation, after all, and you get to choose how you spend it.

But why do you burn with such a distinct need to return?

You don’t often trust yourself to wander out alone. Yet, you’ve always found your way back somehow. It’s all so strange.

Inexplicable, you have had very little to fear while upon this group vacation upon an island lost to time. There’s so little that feels like regular life here, filled with noisy phones and clicking computers. It’s been reclaimed as a tourist destination, and you’ve had so much fun with your friends who are well aware of your injury that still haunts your head.

The car crash was over a year ago. It busted your skull and banged your brain, and recovery takes a long, long time. Longer than you can remember sometimes. The doctors could only tell you to be patient, but it’s difficult when at times you forget who you are or what you’re doing or where you are.

Sometimes you’ve wandered away, almost lost until your friends spread out and search for you. Sometimes a chore you’re in the middle of doing gets set down and forgotten about for days until it stinks, and you remember just what you were in the middle of. You trust your friends. They help you and take care of you.

It wasn’t their fault a week back that you were carried away by a wave while everyone else was diving off of the boat, drinking and laughing. You hardly understood what was happening until the boat was only a speck and your limbs were growing tired from fighting to get back. Then… you don’t remember. Not even your friends know how you returned to shore the next morning, safe and sound and strangely, dry.

You lower your head in your hands and rub your face. You want to go to the water. The urge is not just outside of you but within. You have to see what’s there, how you keep finding yourself safe despite the precariousness of your injury. Maybe you’ll remember.

There are plans with your friends today that you can’t simply brush off. They wouldn’t want you going off alone to a beach by yourself regardless, so it would be best for you to wait until the evening. A rippling warmth within you spreads. It feels good. It feels right.

Okay. This evening then.

You get dressed. If you don’t come downstairs soon, someone will come to check on you. You shouldn’t worry your friends more than you already do.

You glance at the desk in the room. A jar sits there. You brought it to collect seashells in—that you remember, but there are other objects stored inside. Slowly, you walk over and touch the cool, curved glass. A broken seashell, a shiny carved stone, and a braided palm tree bracelet are all stuffed within. You unscrew the lid with a soft sound of air. The strong scent of the sea wafts into your nose. Where did you get these? Why does the sight fill you with such happiness?

A vague recollection filters into your mind like fog, and soon, you can see nothing but the denseness concealing what’s within. Shreds of joy are littered all about. You slowly re-screw the lid on and leave it before you grow too frustrated with your limitations.

You won’t let yourself forget this. You will go to the water and find why it’s so important to you, why can't you ignore this need deep within your chest.

A lingering image hangs in your mind of stars. Someone is holding you carefully. You stop to try and hook the memory, but it drifts away from you, lost to the sea of foggy recollection.

You slip away quietly, a hand clutching a napkin full of the rest of your dinner as you make your way toward the water. The water here is beautiful. In the setting light of the sun, it becomes darker with bright glints of orange catching on the tips of waves. The secluded beach is flanked by tall, towering palm trees and a dense foliage of leafy shrubs. Jutting out into the water is a creaky dock. The wood is gray and splintery but the supports are solid and damp with the tide splashing against it.

Slowly, you make your way towards the end. It’s been good today, mostly. You only had brief moments of forgetfulness that your friends easily guided you out of or corrected. A little jog to your memory can put it back into place. They’re kind enough to take you with them here. It’s work, but they manage with you.

Sitting down, you kick your legs over the water. It’s darker, somehow. At the depth just below you, you remember swimming in the water beside the boat. You remember something below. There must be all kinds of fish in the sea. You imagine rows of teeth and tall dorsal fins.

You flip the napkin open and take a bite. A little snack eases the jumble of your nerves, forcing you to focus on chewing and tasting the morsel in your mouth. It’s okay, right? You keep munching on the remainder of your dinner until there’s nothing left.

As the sun dips lower, you shiver under a slight breeze. The constant lapping of the ocean against the support beams lures you into comfort. You slowly ball up the napkin and shove it into your pocket. The horizon is bleeding red and the last of the light is golden.

In the dark water, something strange shifts below the surface. A faint purple glow. Waves begin to rise. They start crashing against the support beams of the dock and you start. Blood pumping in your veins, you jump to your feet.

A terrifying, unimaginable form rises from below. Your feet are anchored to the worn-down dock. A great crest of white, frothing water builds before breaking as a creature the size of a leviathan emerges. Your heart skips a beat in your chest until you realize pale, silvery eyes are gazing back at you. The being emits a brilliant purple bioluminescence about his towering body.

A flicker of memory. A warmth trickles into your chest.

You gawk in pure, unadulterated awe as a being from the very depths gathers himself at the surface. His eyes squint slightly against the fading sunset, but his attention remains entirely on you. Thick waterfalls crash off of him and back into the water. Slipping closer with a mighty flick of his sleek black and gold tail, the being easily matches the dock with his height.

You find yourself eye to eye with a mer.

The stunning creature is light yellow with golden markings on his cheeks. Frills with thick, black, and purple webbing in between spread upon the sea monster’s head like a sunhat. Two whisker-like tendrils twist and wave upon the creature’s face, purple and searching for stimuli. Darkness marks the being's body, splattering its golden color like dots of stars. A strange seam crosses where its mouth would be.

Your heart warms with his presence as he knows you. Like he’s been waiting for you. The feeling is inexplicable and undeniable. You are terribly small under this beast’s gaze. You could easily be crushed underneath the palm of his hand, but you admire the finned tail he sports, flicking gently just below the black waves.

Beautiful.

How do you know him?

“Who… who are you?” you speak, amazed you can even find your tongue in the presence of such a great being. You only marvel at his appearance. Deep down, you feel no danger.

A forgotten song echoes in the back of your head, unearthly and dream-like, and then it disappears in a flash.

The creature’s brow pinches. Despite apparently lacking a mouth, the being appears wounded for a moment. You shift, uncertain, and almost wishing to comfort whatever hurt you caused. An echo of pain ripples through your chest. You hug yourself with one arm, confused. That couldn’t have come from you, could it have?

As you stare a moment longer at the leviathan, an itch begins in the back of your mind. An answer to the question you asked. Standing here, on this dock, is familiar. You know what it’s like to behold such a creature and have no doubt that he will not harm you.

But why?

He leans closer to you. You almost step back, the scent of sea salt and something deep and dark emitting from him as if he belongs in the depths where no sunlight can pierce his milky eyes. Can he see you?

A pang of emotion rings through you distantly. It is not your own.

The ripple of a memory brushes against your thoughts, and you grow still in the presence of them. There’s a sea, darkening with the sunset. There’s a boat, and your friends as they drink and laugh loudly. You remember, nudged by the familiarity. You were buzzing with alcohol and exhausted. Somehow, you’re looking up at yourself from the depths. No, not you. Him.

The strangeness continues in the vision with how you falter, your limbs growing heavy after struggling for so long trying to swim back, and a sensation of care spreads through you, warm like rain in the summer.

Giant hands reach for you, three fingers on each appendage gently cupping you into his palms. You don’t remember this—your eyelids flutter and you briefly turn, held up from the surface as water drips from between his fingers, and gaze up at him in your weariness. Then, you succumb to your exhaustion.

Rescued you.

The short, blunt words enter your mind as if a bell was rung. The place where his mouth should be doesn’t open despite knowing that he speaks to you. You almost stagger back, stunned by the connection.

“I… I remember,” you murmur, and touch your temple. You lift your eyes to his pale gaze. “Where did you take me?”

Patiently, he warbles a low sound, and another vision sweeps over your mind. You felt the seaspray as he carried you gently over the waves, swimming carefully to a secluded, perhaps undiscovered islet off the coast of the island. He swept into a cove to take refuge, cupping you to his chest as he rested, half submerged in the shallows that would have drowned you.

He waits for you and sings. The song fills your mind as he sings again, layering the distant memory with the reality of his ethereal song. Your heart beats in time with his tune. A great heat fills your marrow, and you gasp softly.

When you woke up in his palm, he saw you, and you saw him. You remember.

“Wayfinder,” you breathe. His name is whispered to you through a connection that transcends oral tradition.

A pulse of joy rolls through you and you understand now that this is an echo of himself. A song knitting you two together somehow. Magic, perhaps. You’ve heard stories of mers but you thought they were only told to the tourists who came here for a sunny vacation and lots of sand.

You remember me.

He says simply, but you understand how he cherishes the fact. You do. Slowly, you step back to the end of the dock. Wayfinder follows you with his large eyes though he squints, as if finding it hard to focus on you in the golden light. His expression is curious as you carefully sit yourself back on the edge, your feet kicking over the sea. The mer gently lowers himself to remain eye-to-eye with you. Though he has no lips, you have the undeniable sense that he’s smiling.

Gently, he lifts a clawed hand. You go over his three fingers, how they are ancient and otherworldly, but hold no fear with the wicked talon drawing near you. You hold perfectly still. He crooks one finger. A slickness to his gold and black flesh gingerly brushes against your cheek, almost engulfing the entire side of your face before he draws back, watching you closely. You reach up to touch the ocean water now drying on your skin.

“Wow,” you say, unable to help your marvel. “You’re so soft. Wait.”

You jerk your head up, searching his expression for answers.

“Did we meet here before? Have you been visiting me?”

Wayfinder gently dips his head. The frills upon his head are stunning, purple on the underside, and dark up on top. You can’t help but notice a speckling of brighter purple bioluminescence as the darkness descends. The sight triggers a surge of understanding or a memory—you know he thrives in the darkness.

Yes. Often. Here.

Here. You glance down to the worn-down dock and run your hand over the weather-beaten wood. The blanks creak and you remember the sound echoing when you stood before him, and you had felt his gentle touch before.

His tail flickers softly behind him, chopping up the waves rolling up to splatter against the support beams of the pier. You are overcome with a longing to run your hand over his slick skin and giant fins, feeling the parts of him that help him maneuver through a great and terrifying ocean.

The mer lowers himself slightly and reaches down into the water below the dock. You follow his movement carefully. What is he doing? His clawed hands dig through the sand before he finds something. His frills flicker once. His eyes, half creased as if the light is too bright, shift back to you.

“What is it?” you whisper.

A gift. For you.

He gingerly overturns his hand and in the center of his massive palm sits a chipped sand dollar. You gawk, again. How many times will your mouth hang open in wonder?

Wayfinder gingerly maneuvers his claws, and turning his hand again, he pinches the shell with a delicateness that betrays his leviathan size before he drops it a few inches into your waiting palms.

You gape as the wet seashell sinks into your hands. It is beautiful, perfect despite the chip in its side, like the broken seashell in your jar—

A flood of memories returns. Each evening, a new gift. A broken seashell. A shiny carved stone. A braided palm tree bracelet. All given to you as you stood upon this very dock. A thickness gathers in your throat. And now the sand dollar.

You look up and adore him.

“Thank you, Wave,” you say wetly. The nickname rolls off your tongue but there is no doubt you have called him such a thing before. “You gave me gifts before, didn't you?”

I have.

The answer is soft and gentle. Ripples of care flow through you, and you wish you could hug him properly, but your arms can’t even fit around his golden-marked face. He struggles to focus on you, but the sun is nearly gone. You worry for his poor eyes in this level of light. He’s built for the deep depths and darkness, and yet, he’s here for you, patiently guiding you back to the memories you both made.

You want to cry but you convince yourself that would be messy.

In the remaining light of the sun, the leviathan extends his hand carefully to you. You stare at it. Looking up into his expression, his eyes a bit brighter now as the day gives way to the night, you break into a smile.

Distant memories return to you like the tide crawling back up the shore, washing over you bit by bit until you’re dripping in them. All the times Wayfinder has carefully carried you so he might share with you the things he cherishes. Beautiful hidden spots around the island, tucked away from prying eyes. A cave opens to the open ocean as the moon reflects off the water.

He gently tapped your chest, and your heart, and touched his own to explain, in the best way he could, the connection you both share.

You fill with warmth. Eagerly, you accept his hand.

#naff's writing commissions #in deep dreams between the waves #mer!map bot #map bot #enjoy these two because they are sweet as pie <3 #naff writing

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oh-no-its-bird · 2 months

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Madara as Regina Mills and the Infinite Tsukuyomi as his curse, season 1 of Once Upon a Time style

Tobirama as Emma, coming in to break the curse, and Hashirama kind of filling the roll of Snow White, the brothers unable to recognize or remember each other but feeling each other's loss all the same (which in itself is kind of the greatest punishment for Izuna's death that Madara could give, save for actually killing one of them)

Maybe Kagami as Henry? Him somehow breaking through the curse and finding Tobirama and trying to bring him back to the little town of Konoha, knowing he's one of the only people who can get through to Madara. But also Tobirama doesnt remember anything anyways, so to him he's just humoring this kid

Ok actually scratch, rewind, lets take this from the top;

Ok so. Madara casts the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but instead of it being a dream it casts Konoha into the modern world, where everyone is given some role to fill in the little town of Konoha, and only Madara remembers how they all got there.

Madara sets some stuff up, like gives certain people certain roles and memories, and also bc something something magic something something the perfect dream, within the bounds of the town, Izuna + some other dead people exist. Madara isn't especially focused on the other dead, just Izuna, so he actually is partially unaware of the details of who else may have gotten revived (Itama is totally there somewhere, lost in the crowds)

Now, Madara did not truly design this town, nor the lives of the people in it. He could have, but he didn't bc he was a bit focused on just his own wants. So a lot of families got separated, things got mixed up, that sort of thing. Including the Senju brothers. Hashirama and Itama have no idea that they're siblings, and Tobirama is another ballpark all on his own.

You see, in a bit of a petty act and also a bit of paranoia bc 'something something best sensor in history' something something 'dont wanna take any chances' and also definitely a bit of last minute impulsive 'hey fuck you, I get my brother back but you dont, bitch' Madara pressed the "you are just a normal man who has no family" illusion onto Tobirama then kicked him out of town

With that said and done, Izuna by his side, Hashirama also positioned suitably close (maybe as an aid since he's Madara is the mayor?) Madara goes ahead and pats himself on the back and enters the Infinite Tsukuyomi himself, forgetting it all and able to truly live that happy, blissfully unaware life he had worked so hard for.

(Just ignore the burning fires in the background where Madara didn't think to double check if anyone else's roles lined up well with their original selves. Or the fact that Itama and some other dead people are totally wandering around in the bg, both them, their families, and even Madara none the wiser)

So anyways, just like in Once Upon a Time, time itself is pretty much frozen. No one ages, every day runs about the same, and honestly who knows how long this town has been here now-- because its residents sure as hell dont!

But then.

One day, somehow little Kagami somehow awakens the Mangekyō Sharingan, possibly through a pure chance fluke of the illusion wavering for unrelated reasons (bc it also supresses any chakra use) and Kagami's mangekyō's ability, whatever tf it is, allows him to break himself out of the genjutsu.

Making him now the only person in the town who's aware of the fact that they're all in some sort of illusion-- though the details escape him bc hes like. 13 and didn't know everything happening behind the scenes.

Oh also note, the ages and time frame of this is just all over the place and we will not think ab it too hard.

So Kagami ofc begins to investigate, he has very little idea of whats going on at all but he does quickly pick up on the fact that he can find just about anyone in Konoha here-- but not his sensei. And Sensei always knows what to do, so now he has a mission

Queue Kagami somehow tracking Tobirama down in the outside world, just like Henry did with Emma. Don't know the specifics of how tho!

So now cut to Tobirama:

First off, him as a parallel to Emma Swan is actually so good its kind of funny. I say he gets to keep being somehow able to 'know when someone is lying' (it's the traces of his obnoxiously powerful sensing abilities leaking even through the best of genjutsu)

He's some kind of private detective maybe? Idk but whatever he is, he's freelance and travels a lot

(Which helps keep attention from the fact that he, even removed from the town, does not seem to age-- something even he himself has not noticed)

So Tobirama is just living his kind of shitty, honestly a little depressing life. He has no attachments; He always feels like he's missing something or someone; He can never seem to connect with anyone, and people even seem to forget he exists when he's out of sight for too long (almost as if they're made to forget, as if he really was never meant to be here or be seen)

And then one day this tiny kid is banging on his door calling him Sensei and begging him in tears to come back to the village because everyones gone crazy and someones cast a genjutsu over EVERYONE and Izuna is somehow alive again and--

Woah woah slow down. First, who the fuck are you actually.

*insert stressed Kagami brain car crash noises here*

So yeah !! Tobirama doesn't know who tf this kid is, but he will drive him back to town and give his parents a good talking to.

Hikaku, Kagami's polite and stressed looking uncle, is very relieved to see him back home

Kagami is literally begging Tobirama to stay it's actually painful to watch and no one can understand why he's so fucking pressed about it. And for some reason, Tobirama decides to stay. But only for a little bit, you hear?

(It will not be for a little bit.)

And just like that, the clock tower begins to move, and time begins to pass once more. And both Kagami and Tobirama slowly piece together what exactly happened to get them here, and how the town might be broken out of it's enchantment

OK SO WITH THAT SET UP / PREMISE ON THE GROUND LETS TALK FUN DETAILS

So like. Tobirama and Hashirama having no idea they're brothers. Double to that, Itama is somewhere around! And no one fucking knows it!

Madara does not know what he's done, he is living his best life fr fr, but in contrast to how Hashirama and Tobirama seem to instantly click, Madara just kind of fucking hates this guy on sight for some reason. There's a lot of tension there and everyone in the office is making bets on if they're gonna kiss (Izuna has money riding on it)

So like Madara, Izuna, Hikaku and Hashirama running the mayors office n stuff, with Madara as the mayor

Tobirama eventually ends up as Sherrif just like Emma which is also irony bc smthn smthn Uchiha police force agenda or whatever. And then him and Madara regularly get into very public fights over clashing ideals

Im tied between saying that the timeline for this is like, just wishy washy "hey dont worry ab it" and tossing in Kakashi's generation + others for fun and to fill in spaces

Or saying that just like how the Infinite Tsukuyomi seemed to bring some people back to life within the boundaries of the town, there are some legit time bending aspects of it, and just like how we have people who are supposed to be dead, we also have people who just shouldn't be born yet. Fun stuff!

But like Kakashi Obito and Rin are totally around. Somwhere. Also Sakumo but Kakashi still believes his father is dead and Sakumo can no longer remember Kakashi exists (rip)

Itama is the towns one weed dealer and also a plant scientist bc I fucking refuse to give up on the stoner Itama agenda, that is my default Itama in every AU now. Oh also he's like an adult, and we're also sticking with the him and Tobirama being twins agenda

He and Tobirama meeting for the first time with sheriff Tobirama arresting him for selling weed pass would be the funniest thing

Touka is the deputy sheriff and she and Tobirama get along like a house on fire, and then bc convoluted reasons they somehow rope Itama into working w them for parole/community service or smthn. Dream team!!

But yeah thats it thats the post thanks for listening Im gonna go stare at a wall now

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jungshookz · 9 months

Note

LVEB couple morning love making and it’s just so fluffy and horny and something to remind me how single i am😭

y/n is always nice and warm in the morning but for some reason it feels like she's been EXTRA nice and warm this holiday season and namjoon doesn't usually find himself this dizzy with thoughts of his girlfriend but he woke up a little earlier than usual after having dreamt about her (he doesn't even recall what happened in the dream but he's getting flashes of her soft thighs n the smell of her pear shampoo) and when he looks over to see her still dozing peacefully he doesn't want to wake her up but also...

namjoon pokes a tongue out to swipe over his slightly chapped bottom lip as he snakes an arm around your waist and brings you towards him and he can't help but feel a little extra excited at how perfectly you slot into his body

he's trying to be careful to not wake you up but also if you just so happened to wake up because of his attempt to cuddle then that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world

he buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes a gentle inhale of your shampoo and the soft smell of your skin (he always thinks you have a very natural scent to you and you say it's because of all the baking you do) and he doesn't even realize that his left hand has been wandering down this whole time until he's playing with the delicate waistline of your panties, fingers plucking with the little bow at the top

"shit." namjoon mutters to himself, swallowing thickly when he feels himself getting hornier -- he really doesn't know what's gotten into him this morning but he's just hoping that you wake up soon because his situation is starting to ache a little-

"mm..." your brows scrunch together slightly as your back arches slightly in a stretch, your bum pressing against namjoon's front making him let out an involuntary moan

and when y/n is fully awake (albeit still a little bit sleepy) the first thing she's aware of is that namjoon is already awake because there's something stiff pressing against her thigh and she does take the opportunity to tease him a little bit because he usually gets bashful about waking up like this and not wanting to disturb her sleep (truth be told she loves being woken up like this) and it seems to go 0 to 100 pretty fast because soon enough she finds herself with her shorts and panties hanging off of one ankle and the musky scent of namjoon's sandalwood shampoo taking over every one of her senses and-

"joon-" you whimper, a breath catching in your throat when namjoon presses in further, one hand clasping your waist while the other cups your bum and gives it a squeeze

"holy fuck, you feel so good-" namjoon groans, head dropping against your shoulder as a shiver shoots up his spine at the sensation (you feel so incredibly nice and so incredibly warm) and he pulls back slightly before pushing himself all the way in

"please fuck me, please-" you are not a woman of many words outside of the bedroom but namjoon loves how talkative you can get when the two of you are intimate and he's trying very hard to hold himself back and take it slow because the two of you did just get up but when you're begging him for his dick like this especially after the dream he had, he doesn't know if he can control himself any further

anyway lveb!couple supremacy for life

🎄christmas at cee's place 2023!🎄

#alright i'm speedrunning through these bc i kinda blew xmas w cee #i like this format though hehe #lveb #lveb!namjoon #namjoon drabbles #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fluff recs #namjoon smut #namjoon smut recs #bts writer #bts author recs #bts writer recs #kim namjoon #bts reader insert #namjoon fics #namjoon fic recs

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 7 months

Text

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for February 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Sipping Pink Lucozade by zmmf / @zaynmaliksmiddlefinger [E, 86k, Zayn/Liam]

If Zayn had to describe his life for the past few years, “struggling musician” would be a massive understatement. The last thing he needs right now is a distraction from his last shot at a successful career.

Enter the most tempting distraction he could imagine in the form of Liam Payne, the irresistible—and deeply closeted—playboy and son of the owner of Zayn's label.

Liam Payne is used to getting everything he wants with a tap of his black card—but he isn’t used to wanting something money can’t buy.

Let alone something he shouldn't desire to begin with.

Both men know they shouldn't risk everything by giving in to temptation, but it just might be too late.

＊ Clear Blue Water, High Tide Came And Brought You In by BoosBabycakes / @boosbabycakes28 [E, 79k, Harry/Louis]

A wonderful sweet, somewhat innocent and very hopeful Harry makes it to the big city to start a new life, away from the pain and risks his own home poses for him. A broken, somewhat lonely but very self-aware Louis tries to give his days meaning, purpose.

A journey through love, understanding and self-awareness in which acceptance of one's self and the capacity to focus on what's really important are the drivers.

A carefully constructed yet fragile web of lies, designed to keep them safe, might just be what also pulls them apart.

Or the one where Harry is a mermaid, Louis is a vampire, and they have to hide who they really are to the other. What could possibly go wrong?

＊ Stray by @haztobegood [E, 1k, Zayn/Harry, Louis/Harry]

Louis waits in the booth he’s occupied since they arrived. He checks his phone for the time, finishes his second drink, and waits. Harry had put on a good show for him. Picking a gorgeous man, dancing filthily, whispering in his ear, kissing him hard. It wasn’t a surprise when the man led Harry to the back. He imagines Harry in any number of positions, on his knees, in an alley, wrists pinned against a wall. Louis shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself under the table.

Finally, Louis catches a glimpse of familiar curls weaving through the crowd. The man’s arm is firm around Harry’s waist until they stop in front of the booth. “I found this stray wandering around. I believe he’s yours.”

＊ and then, i wait there for you by punk_pillow_princess / @punkpillowprincess [M, 9k, Louis/Harry]

Harry has always dreamed of having his “happily ever after”, but hasn't found the right one yet. Suddenly, he meets Louis.

＊ All This Time (I was Waiting for You) by @ohharold [E, 4k, Harry/Louis]

Harry and Louis have always been destined for eachother. Some time apart has Harry reminiscent of their first meeting.

＊ spring in your eyes by @nouies [NR, 3k, Louis/Harry]

“Just Go with It” inspired AU where plastic surgeon Harry pretends to be married to his assistant Louis to avoid unwanted attention.

＊ Started Off With Some Birthday Sex by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]

When Harry gets woken up at the exact moment he turns thirty, Louis makes sure to start off his birthday with a bang.

＊ Timing Is Everything by @littleroverlouis [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Harry's Valentine's Day marriage proposal does not go as planned. Part 7 of Putting the 'Ho' in Holiday

＊ From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected.

Things start looking up from the dining table.

＊ One Thing (for my birthday) by @berzerkshires [E, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Canon Compliant: Liam shares a link of an interview from twelve years ago to the One Direction Whatsapp promising a DJ a lads' night for Harry's birthday, they plan one night to hang out. And Harry makes sure to get that One Thing he wants every birthday.

＊ Bavarian Cream by @berzerkshires [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Lou has a big day planned for the birthday girl, but all Harry wants to do is thirty things with Lou.

＊ like a fire hydrant by @justanothershadeofblue [E, 3k, OT5]

Louis has a surprise planned for Harry after his final concert to help take his mind off the ending of his tour. A very messy surprise.

＊ i would know you from touch alone by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 72k, Louis/Harry]

They had never been face to face before now. They’d never touched, skin to skin, until Harry landed a punch to his face, high on his cheekbone.

Louis shoved him off and was pulling his fist back from Harry’s abdomen before he realized his face wasn’t tingling because of the pain.

It pooled out from his cheek, over his face, down his neck and spine. A shiver in the late September night. Heat, sparks - whatever you wanted to fucking call it.

or The Tomlinson and Cox gangs have hated each other for over forty years. Harry Styles, the grandson of Gritty Cox, was freshly back to the city after uni when, on his first night out, he punched the Tomlinson heir in the face. It shouldn’t have mattered, their gangs have done worse to each other. But all it took was one single touch to recognize your soulmate. Louis was adamant that being soulmates changed nothing, not who they were or which family they were loyal to. Or, at least, it shouldn’t have.

＊ Skin on My Skin by Layne Faire / @laynefaire [E, 2k, Zayn/Liam]

Damn, I could get lost in a heartbeat Damn, I can't get over your body Can't take my eyes off you, baby Let me love you, baby

Let me touch you where you like it Let me do it for ya Give you all of my attention Dive into that ocean of your love, oh Let me show you just how much I want ya

＊ Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by @fallinglikethis [M, 3k, Zayn/Liam}

It had been a normal day, just like any other. He’d been doing a PR tour for his father’s election campaign, making appearances in marginalized communities to let them know that his father saw them, would work for them if elected. He’d always maintained that his father would make a bigger impact by showing up himself, proving that he meant to keep his promises and was not just sending his son to give lip service. Liam’s advice had fallen on deaf ears, but then it’s not like Liam had listened to his father’s advice either.

Liam still remembers the argument, still remembers the feelings of stubborn exasperation and eventual grudging acceptance, when his father had insisted that Liam needed a security detail while out doing his father’s bidding. He remembers arguing that he had no real power over anything, so no one would care about him, let alone try to hurt him. But that assessment had proven to be untrue today.

＊ Dirty Diana by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

In the month leading up to his 30th birthday, Harry writes to his confidante Diana every day, sharing his fantasies about Louis.

It'll be a dirty thirtieth indeed if they all become reality.

＊ Bend Like a Hairpin by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [M, 25k, Harry/Louis]

Who could have guessed that Harry’s entire FBI career could hinge on his ability to convincingly swing around a stripper pole without braining himself?

Harry stands in front of the pole, his back still to Louis, and takes a big breath. He just has to hope it’s not obvious from behind that he’s completely freaking out. He closes his eyes and tries to listen to the music, letting his heartbeat match the beat.

(Or the one where FBI agent Harry Styles screws up in a mission and he has one more chance to save his career. He’s going undercover as a stripper to investigate a strip club suspected of money laundering. There’s just 2 problems: 1) Harry can’t dance, and 2) he might be falling for the club’s owner Louis, who just happens to be the prime suspect).

＊ I Might Say Yes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 6k, Louis/Harry]

“You and Zayn get up to any mischief then?” Louis’ smirk suggests that he knows how Harry and Zayn’s brunches usually turn out, but Harry would bet on everything he has that Louis would never be able to guess it this time.

It’s not very nice of him, but Harry can’t help but wait until Louis has taken another sip of tea before he answers.

“I bought a wedding dress.”

Just as predicted Louis does a spit take worthy of the cinema, but Harry is impressed with how quickly he’s able to pull himself back together.

Louis takes a moment to set his cup down and when he speaks again his tone is even, but with the mirth of a challenge hidden underneath. “I wasn’t aware that you were engaged?”

Harry just shrugs easily. “Reckon I’m not.” He pauses to flash a coy smile. “Someone ought to put a ring on it.”

(Or the one where Harry buys a wedding dress on a whim. And his very doting boyfriend, Louis, is more than happy to indulge him).

＊ What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13 [T, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.

The name on his arm disagreed.

But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

＊ Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt [T, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

Can his father's heart be persuaded to bring Louis back to him?

＊ I'll knock on your door, it will save me from calling by @hl-obsessed [NR, 5k, Harry/Louis]

Louis hears "Good Years" for the first time. Harry is there to pick up the pieces.

＊ pretty please? by @disgruntledkittenface [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Harry gets impatient for her Valentine’s Day present.

＊ Pussy Juice by @homosociallyyours [M, 3k, Harry/Louis]

When Harry visits her hometown gay bar, she expects it to be a little awkward. But if she's going to move back to town, she figures she better get used to that. While she manages to dodge the bar's "special" drink, the Pussy Juice shot, she can't avoid the feelings that come up when her former teacher (and teen crush), Louis joins her and her friends for the night.

＊ Room With a View by @littleroverlouis [E, 1k, Louis/Harry]

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Harry asks. “Absolutely stunning.”

Louis mumbles into her skin. “You’re the stunning one.” Her hands leave the railing and skim down Harry’s sides, from rib cage to the flare of her hips. A muted purr rumbles from her chest as she leans into Louis.

“No, that’s you,” Harry purrs, nuzzling further into Louis’ chest. They cuddle as they lazily watch the endless stretch of sea. Time does not exist when there is sunshine on your face, fresh salty air in your lungs, and the comfort of your most beloved in your arms.

“Doesn’t this fresh air feel so fucking good?”

“Wanna make you feel even better,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s tousled hair.

Or Louis and Harry go on an Alaskan cruise. Part 4 of Holigays

＊ baby you're the boss at home by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Louis sets up a camera in the master bedroom, so she can watch over her wife while she's at work. But it doesn't take long for Harry to notice -- and to decide to have some fun with it, at the expense of Louis' sanity.

She watches Harry’s head tip back, twisting against the pillow, and she wishes so desperately that she could hear the whimpers she knows are spilling from Harry’s throat – that long, beautiful, marble throat that she wants to cover in kisses and bites. When Harry’s back arches, Louis almost moans – catching herself just in time to remember that she’s not muted, that she’s on a call with a dozen top execs, that anyone could hear. Fuck. She needs to get off. Get off the call and also get off she is dripping into her silk panties; at this rate there’s going to be a wet spot on her fancy ergonomic chair before long.

- Fic Fests -

＊ Blouie Valentine's Exchange 2024 / @blouiexchange / Masterpost

An exchange featuring bottom Louis fics

＊ 1D Soulmate Fest / @1dsoulmatefest / AO3 / Masterpost

One Direction fics featuring a soulmate concept

＊ Dirty Thirty Fest / @dirtythirtyfest / AO3 / Masterpost

Fics including Harry Styles in celebration of his 30th birthday

＊ Femslash Festuary / @girldirectionfest / AO3 / Masterpost

Girl Direction fics to celebrate Femslash February

#28th appreciation #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dficvillage #ficsfor4am

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

omg you’re sooo sweet!! I love your writing and it amazes me how you intend to just do a small drabble but it’s always series worthy & ik that’s not what you plan but that’s how interesting your stories get🥹 but I have so many ideas for the “how time has changed you” couple (you don’t have to do them all or at all, just a few ideas) but maybe you can tell us more about how they met, how she fought him and how he finally got her into Stockholm syndrome, and maybe some smut along the way either right before she fell into Stockholm syndrome so (dubcon/somno) or after and their just so thirsty for each other 😮‍💨

it’s all in your head:

pairing: yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: more angst than fluff || mafia au || yandere au || non-idol au

summary: you're the one that let yourself fall

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: kidnapping, implied stockholm syndrome, unintentional mind break/ mentioned disassociation, mentions of minor injuries (bruises)

notes: chronologically happens before ‘how time has changed you’ but i think reading hthcy first is probably better ~ drabble requests closed (peep the gorillaz reference in the title) also!!! thank you??? you're sweet too my love <3 and thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read my stuff??

drabble masterlist || my main masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Human beings are flawed in design. And somewhere, mingled between all the self-loathing thoughts, somewhat of a god complex had formed.

You wouldn’t ever tell anyone, hot embarrassment too much to handle, but truly you felt as though you were untouchable. Like the universe had a secret little rule written somewhere in the stars that luck was always on your side.

It had been a harsh slap to the face when reality had settled in. It was strange how for days you’d been watching yourself from outside of your body. Someone so familiar yet so different, who had your face, your mannerisms, everything so very you; yet she’d fallen into the claws of a beast. No longer exempt from the evils of the world.

While you covered your ears at the incessant banging at the bedroom door, you from the real world simply curls up further into herself.

You were aware that your captor wasn’t going to open the door. You hadn’t exactly been the kindest in your first few days here, more than a few bruises littering his skin from your outbursts. Sticky guilt seizing your body when you’d catch a glimpse of his arms painted purple from an unjust kick, because somehow you knew he never had plans to touch you if it wasn’t on your own terms.

The little control you had over your life in the form of a lock and key. Yoongi had found himself more than worried when you wouldn’t even open the door for food, never below begging for you to come out even if only briefly because really your health was the most important thing.

Through prickly thoughts of impossible escape and wallowing in self-pity, you’d tried to figure out where you’d met Yoongi. Because even if you had come across thousands of faces between meeting him, surely you wouldn’t forget eyes like his. A thousand secrets hidden behind eyes almost as black as the night sky; eyes that would have no problem picking you apart with nothing but a single glance.

He seemed to know you quite well. Seemingly knowing small, insignificant things about you. Favourite foods, snacks you’d always seem to eye when you’d wander into a convenience store of an evening. Every little hobby you’d picked up in the last six months stacked on a coffee table. Clothes you’d been eyeing online for weeks, sat in a basket that truly you had no intention of buying; a faraway dream that’s not as far as it seems.

A prison disguised as a perfect bedroom. And as much as the bed had looked tempting, silk duvet sure to do wonders for your skin and blankets that were made of velvet; you hadn’t dared fall asleep. Not until your body had begged for rest and you’d spend an hour napping on the woollen rug, only to be woken by a tray of food being slipped through the door.

The first time you become somewhat aware of your physical body again is when Yoongi doesn’t show up one morning. Doesn’t tell you stories of his life, doesn’t sit there as you stare at your food; praying that he would leave you alone. That he’d let you go, or at least answer the questions that have you falling into an endless hole of hysteria.

You shower. A rushed ordeal because you didn’t know when Yoongi would return. And then you’d fallen asleep on the rug until the sun had dipped below the horizon and Yoongi had made himself comfortable outside your door again.

You’d tried to run, dreams of a world so far out of your grasp dying in your hands as you stand there only to find heavy footsteps that stalked the halls, a brutal reminder that you wouldn’t get very far even if you tried.

The windows didn’t open, you’d tried that. Too scared to try and smash them open, sure they were specially made– impossible to break.

You’d lost all concept of time. Days bleeding into nights. Hours melting into one another. Where seconds are nothing more than fine dust, something you relied on truly nothing but a concept. Unattainable no matter how long you tried to count each minute or guess the day of the week. Every day is a repeat of the last. The only difference would be what Yoongi would talk about, gravelly voice ricocheting throughout your mind until you lay there awake hours after he’d gone to bed, replaying everything he’d told you that evening.

You’re not sure when it happens, but you start to expect Yoongi. Knowing that when delicate orange light spills into your room from the window, the sky the prettiest shade of pink, he’d be there.

Yoongi never opened the door. Voice bold enough that you can hear everything he says, walls thin enough that you can hear each deep sigh that passes through his lips when he talks about certain things that irk him just that little bit.

When Yoongi talked, and you listened, the world was shrouded in darkness. And you simply floated, merely existed. No expectations, not that you knew of anyways. And maybe he had a hidden agenda, something a little more sinister lurking behind airy words that silenced every niggling thought in your mind that kept you awake every night.

You don’t think much of it when Yoongi doesn’t show up one evening. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have done this. Sure to come tomorrow morning with a plate full of cake, maybe those cookies that you liked; way too expensive for you to ever splurge on. Hot chocolate or sweet tea, you’re unsure though he seems to decide based off the weather, and so you’ll have to see what a new day brings you before you hazard a guess.

And so, you deal with the silence of the bedroom for one evening.

By the second day of silence, you’d found yourself staring at the door again, every little creak of the floorboards in the hallway causing you to perk up. Tips of your fingers burning as you dig your nails into the carpet, feet tapping against the floor, bottom lip chewed between your teeth. Every passing hour of deafening silence tugging you further and further into a spiral.

Without Yoongi’s voice your thoughts had amplified.

You hadn’t been here long in retrospect, a month? Maybe a little more. Surely he hadn’t already gotten sick of you? How pitiful would that be? The very man who had shown an inkling of an obsession was already done with you.

Day four, and you’re sat by the door, startling one of the maids who had come to give you breakfast.

You bang your head against the wall once she closed it, the tray kicked away from you as frustrated tears cling to your lashes. Something suffocating grabbing onto your neck, a phantom hand cutting off your air as you tug at your hair.

Self-pity is a terrible thing. An ugly emotion mutating into something a little worse until you can physically feel the sadness, tugging at your temples in the form of a headache, salty cheeks, tight with tears, or a heart that feels infinite times heavier compared to the ache of rocky blue sadness.

As the sun rises on the sixth day, you decide to keep the bedroom door open, in hopes that a breeze from the open windows downstairs would carry some of the wretched thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone no matter how hard you tried to drown them out.

You’d tried washing them down the drain, scalding hot shower only burning your skin, red-raw and tender to touch– physical twinge of pain still not enough to make the world silent.

You’d sat in front of the CD player for an hour before you’d flicked through piles of plastic cases to find a song you liked. And you hadn’t been all that surprised to find they were all your favourite artists. You’d only managed to blast one song before you’d kept the volume down, always listening out for all the little noises outside the room.

On the seventh day, you’d sat in the doorway of the bedroom, legs tucked up to your chest. You’d only made brief eye contact with the herculean man standing opposite your door before you’d retreated back into your own mind. Because as much as it was tempting, you wouldn’t dare ask where Yoongi was, sickly hatred still gnawing away at the back of your mind.

On the eighth day, one of the maids had asked if you wanted to take a stroll in the garden; that hauling yourself up in the bedroom all day isn’t healthy. And something inside of you had fallen out of place. So completely out of character, you couldn’t recognise yourself.

You’d started flinging pillows and blankets off the bed at Yoongi’s staff, unsure if what was coming out of your mouth was words of sobs or shaky little cries. Your body seemingly moves on its own, free will fizzling in your hands as you act on impulse.

“What’s all this?”

You stop, hiccuping as Yoongi stands in the doorway, blurry; veiled by tears that cling to wet lashes.

“Out. All of you”

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands, knees cushioned by long-forgotten blankets as you drop to the floor. Footsteps of those scuttling out of the room drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears.

Yoongi runs his thumb over his bottom lip, your shoulder shaking as you swallow down another sob.

He crouches, still far enough away from you.

“What’s all this about, darling?” he soothes.

“I hate you. I hate you so much” you kick at the blankets underneath you, “first you fucking take me without asking–”

“It’s for your own good” he shakes his head, “I did it for you”

“Bullshit” you laugh, “Normal people don’t do this”

“You and I come from two very different worlds, baby”

You push the palms of your hands into the sockets of your eyes, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t know you”

Yoongi hums, gentle as he takes a step forward, slow so you can see he merely wants to be closer, “But I know you”

“And that makes it okay for you to act like you care and then leave for days?”

He blinks, “Is that what this is about?” a laugh bubbling up his throat, “You were lonely, is that it? Because you could have asked for me and I would have come straight home for you”

“Huh?” your eyebrows crease, and your eyes meet his own, “that’s not–”

“Not what?” he tilts his head, something acutely mocking in his gaze, “Not you waiting for me? Not you slowly losing yourself to your wretched little mind? Always overthinking, so caught up in your own head. I have eyes and ears everywhere– I know every little thing you’ve been doing over the last week”

You swallow, “I hate you”

“Lying is bad, you know?” he hums, “It’s okay to let go sometimes. It’s okay to admit you can’t do things alone.”

You shake your head.

“No?”

“You weren’t here. I was alone.”

“I’m here now. I’ll always be here for you”

Yoongi thinks people have pre-established ideals about him because of his job. Brute force and terror had never been something he wanted to instil in you. Never wanting to wear you down, pull you so far into the darkness that you stray away from the essence of your being. He loved you as you were and simply wanted you to see eye-to-eye with him.

He hadn’t expected you to fall so soon. Had prepared to wait many more months if it meant he could have you where he wanted you.

It’s endearing, how much control you seem to think you have over your own thoughts. The mind is ever so fragile, and truly, we are our own worst enemies. And maybe that’s what he found so fascinating about you. Wanting to weave his way into your own world, stuck inside your own head, so many thoughts and so many ugly feelings that he’d love to just wash away.

And to just watch you find the little piece of freedom from your own awful mind. A fucked up hero that saved you from your own hysteria, because as much as you liked to think you were the one in control, he could see it. Watched as each day you slowly started to lose yourself.

And Yoongi will never say it, will never take the prize of you sinking into his grasp, because you’d brought yourself here. And he assumes you’ll only continue to sink further and further until all you know is him; the way it’s supposed to be.

And very soon, he knows the two of you will find something special.

🧸 thank you for reading!!

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts angst #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts mafia fic #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #yoongi #bts #yoongi angst #bts imagines #drabble game

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pearl-blue-musings · 1 year

Text

Violet Chemistry

Hi hi!!

I have been working on this for FOUR MONTHS and I can finally share this

Pairing: Kaeya Alberich x fem!reader x Alhaitham

Warnings: 18+, alcohol mention, panic attack, oral male receiving, threesome, penetration, fingering, slight choking, spanking, slight cheating but very little, after care is important yall!

Word count: 11.8K

Alhaitham sighs for the upteenth time as he reads at his desk. Despite the fact that he turned down to be the grand sage, he still gets his pay for being the grand scribe. However, with all the work he has on his plate, things to research, and new things to discover, he finds his mind still wandering off to you. What are you doing? What are you up to? Were you able to move out to a better place?

He doesn’t truly have the right to be concerned with you. It’s been years since he’s seen you, and one of the last times he saw you he had turned down your research project. He always remembered your affinity for the arts, specifically music and dance, and that was something that wasn’t completely allowed in the Akademiya. But somehow you were accepted under the Darshan Vahumana, being affiliated with social sciences. And you knew that. So why the hell did you even suggest it? You’re obviously a genius but why this? Why would you propose such a thing? He hated seeing the pain in your eyes as the sages refused you, concurred by his agreement as the scribe.

For as long as you can remember, the two of you had been in and out of each other's lives. You even knew Kaveh when the three of you were younger. Spending time with his grandmother was always a joy for you. For some reason you’re closer to Kaveh but always have been drawn more to Alhaitham. Kaveh always loved watching you sing and dance, sometimes helping him find inspiration for his architecture. Alhaitham’s allure and genius had you feeling inferior yet always wanting to challenge you. He brought out the best and worst in you but you could never see yourself with him in a romantic way.

Especially after he claimed to never believe in your dreams.

The gray haired male wanted you to understand. He wanted, well wants, you to understand that he cares about you. He knows you’re smart and capable so why keep pursuing something that isn’t beneficial to the Akademiya? He was clearly looking out for your best interests but all you heard was that he didn’t believe in you and thought that the arts were a waste of time. When your research was rejected, you met up with Kaveh at the local tavern where he had to keep you in line as you sobbed into your drinks.

“I don’t,” you wail, “I don’t understand why there isn’t room for art in academic research! It’s just as viable and important!” You sniffle again and take another sip. “I mean, he was so heartless toward me. Me!”

Kaveh sighs and wipes a tear away. “I hate seeing you like this over someone like him. He doesn’t deserve it! And you think you’ve got it bad? I live with him.”

You look up at him with puffy cheeks and reddened eyes, swollen from your crying. “Be like what?”

Kaveh holds your gaze before shaking his head. “So head over heels in love with him.”

His words had hit you hard. You? Love him? Alhaitham? The man that has made your life insufferable yet all the more better all at once? You love him? You quickly chug the rest of your drink and order another. “Not after today I’m not.”

That night was nearly two years ago, and so much has happened in that amount of time. After your research got rejected and you poured your heart out to Kaveh, neither man had seen you. The blond had an inkling you had dropped out or taken a break to travel the world and explore the arts in different cultures. He knew you were leaving after that night. Mostly because when he went to check on you, your neighbors told him you had packed all of your things and left. He pondered telling Alhaitham but he was aware that bastard was the last person you wanted to see. So he kept it to himself.

Even when he went home that night and was questioned by Alhaitham. “Did you manage to take her home? She usually frequents the tavern after good or bad news and I haven’t seen her around. Have you heard from her?” Kaveh’s eyes widened. His roommate and old friend had never shown this much care for someone other than himself. He hears the taps on the floor of the scribe’s impatience. There’s no way he can reveal where you are, even if he doesn’t know.

“I’m not her keeper! And you should’ve been nicer to her. You know music means everything to her and you,” he points accusatively at him, “you know that better than anyone! She gave everything into this proposal, spent weeks mulling over how to combine them together! And you squashed it! How heartless!”

Kaveh huffs and walks away to his room and slams the door. Alhaitham stares after his roommate and shakes his head. “I merely asked if she was okay. She’ll bounce back.” Alhaitham stood uneasily before he entered his study. He sits down and grabs a random book. For some reason his attention faltered and the words he and the sages all but railed you with ran rampant in his mind. Maybe Kaveh was right, his words may have been too harsh. But he can’t take them back. He knows he’s told you worse so he’s sure he’ll see you tomorrow mulling over new ideas.

He didn’t see you the next morning or the morning after that, struggling to swallow the severity of his tone.

….

After all your years of traveling, you never thought you’d end up back in Sumeru. You had heard of the changes that had happened with the Akaedmiya and the Lesser Lord Kusanali, and thought maybe you can visit again. You wonder how Kaveh is doing, having heard nothing of him from the grapevine. Which in itself was shocking, considering he was close to finishing his magnum opus.

But you had heard a lot about Alhaitham.

He was suggested for the new Grand Sage? But turned it down? That smug bastard! And to add insult to injury, they’re still prejudiced toward the arts and desert dwellers? He’s still the same as the rest of them! That wasn’t going to change your mind about checking out the Grand Bazaar and check in on your old friend Nilou. You knew she was always a good dancer and part of the theater there. You figured you would see her, checking everything on you before carrying on with your disguise.

Your first stop was the harbor in Sumeru City, that being your drop off and return point of your stay and previous departure. You take a deep breath as you take in the sights and smells you had abandoned once upon a time. You feel a slight squeeze to your shoulder as you turn around, feeling the tension ebb away as you place your hand over his.

“It’s gonna be okay, snowflake. We don’t have to be here longer than necessary.”

You smile up at your travel partner and boyfriend, Kaeya Alberich as you two step off the boat. “However, I do want to truly explore the alcohol culture here so…” You playfully punch his arm and laugh with him. In your travels around Teyvat, you didn’t count on opening your heart to someone new. You had been content with Alhaitham holding your heart forever, although you despised that fact. However, on your trip through Mondstadt, the knight had come to your rescue. You had been writing in your journal about sound vibrations and musical cultures from the various lands when a band of hilichurls ambushed you. You struggled to get all of your belongings and douse the fire; you assumed the creatures wouldn’t have been active at night but you were mistaken.

Kaeya had swept in just in time and took care of them. You stared at him in awe as he lent his rough hand out to you. When you took it, you were surprised to feel how warm it was despite seeing his icy cold vision in action. And dared you say, felt a spark? His sweet words and quick wit had you handing your stuff to some of his crew as you all headed back into Mondstadt for safety. After returning to the knights headquarters, Kaeya got you settled with Goth at the hotel and that’s where you stayed. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but one night talking to several bards at Angel’s Share and you were enraptured by him. He thought your brain was absolutely fascinating, never knowing that music and vibrations can be studied in this way.

Over the next few days he had introduced you to Lisa, whom you’d heard of but never met, and became fast friends. During your stay in Mondstadt, it became almost tradition for Kaeya to pick you up from the library and head to the tavern together. On one of your last nights in Mondstadt before traveling back to Fontaine, Kaeya walked with you around the lake after he picked you up from the library. You were shocked you weren’t at the pub, but he insisted it was coming up. You had giggled at that and the knight stopped in his footsteps. “Your laugh is the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. What can I do to make you laugh like that, dear?”

Your mind was reeling. Specifically, thinking back to all the times a certain scholar called your laugh callous and disruptive. This was a breath of fresh air for you. With the moon dancing on Cider Lake, you weren’t sure what was pulling you into him, may it be the Anemo archon himself but suddenly the world around you ceased to exist and all that was discernible was the captain in front of you. His eye seemed to sparkle more than usual before his lips met yours in a soft kiss. You relaxed into it and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his hands rested on your hips. When you break for air, your heart was beating out of time erratically, something you had never felt before. And you think the man in front of you feels the same way. He leaned forward to slyly kiss the corner of your mouth and pulled back with a soft chuckle, and proposal.

“Stay in Mondstadt. I know you’ve got your research to do but, what better place to do it than in the city of freedom. And I’ll be here too, if you fancy.”

As you walk through the Grand Bazaar, you reminisce on your relationship with Kaeya. It brings a warm smile to your face as you scan the stalls. The idea of him going to Port Ormos as well, a few hours trip, left you feeling uneasy but brush it off. The Mora in your bag is begging to be spent on some of the fashions and trinkets your eyes come across. You try to avoid buying everything when a growing crowd draws your attention. It seems the patrons of the bazaar are gathering around the front of the theater. With your instrument in your bag, you politely elbow your way to the front to see what the commotion is all about. Once at the front of the circle, you see a rug occupied by a crew of performers. There are some actors, the owner of the theater, and someone you hadn’t seen in years.

With eyes slight and a growing smile, all senses of dread leave your aura. “Nilou!” The redhead perks up from talking with the other performers and quickly pulls you into a tight and warm hug. The two of you giggle as you rock back and forth and you’re certain you feel a warm wetness on your shoulder.

“Oh my dearest,” Nilou begins. “I’ve missed you so much! I thought I would never see you again! You left so abruptly!” By now the two of you are crying from the happy reunion, laughing as you see each other's expressions. She then flicks your elbow and you flinch in response. “Don’t ever leave like that again! You hear me? If you think I’m sad, imagine how Kaveh or even your old friend Alhaitham would feel! Granted, the scribe isn’t the best with feelings…”

“Still?”

Nilou shakes her head with a chuckle. “But no matter! You’re here and you must perform with me today! It’s an open mic of sorts and I’d love to hear or see you. Ah! We should do a dance together!”

You hold her hands securely and blink away some more tears. “So long as I can accompany you,” you breathe out. “I’ve learned so much and there’s a lot I have to tell you!”

Nilou nods excitedly and pulls you into the performing area. Word spreads quickly of the impromptu session and that it may end up extending into the night so anyone can come and go as they please. It’s the first time in a long time you truly felt at home in Sumeru and were so welcomed. You dance your heart out and played until your hands and body were sore. Various vendors provided the theater crew with food and different costumes to wear, something that made this experience all the more exciting. You couldn’t wait to tell Kaeya later at the tavern.

….

It’s rare that his work has him working from home, but today is an exception. With the newly installed sages, the need to be more in touch and connected with the people of Sumeru is more imperative than ever. All he has to do is “blend” with the populace and see what things the Akademiya can improve upon. Without the Akasha, it makes it hard to read the minds of everyone, hence his field trip. Alhaitham has half a mind to ask Kaveh to show him around but knows his roommate will only complain.

The first part of his duty is to explore the shopping and sightseeing around Sumeru City. He knows his way around the city; surely there can’t be anything he or the leaders of Sumeru have missed. The first thing that catches his eyes and ears is the hurried talks and bustling feet of the townspeople. Curious, he eavesdrops a little longer on the couple in front of him.

“Are you heading to the theater's jam session?”

“Jam session? What’s that? Does the Akademiya know about it?”

The first man wraps his arm around his friend and chuckles. “Times are changing around here and it’s about time! I heard it’s an anyone can join or play kind of deal. It was all Nilou’s idea!”

The friend lowers his voice and Alhaitham discreetly moves closer to hear more. “But we know nothing of music and the arts, can we still go?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” the first man comments, “ it’s for anyone! Think of it as a way to relax and express yourself.

“I also heard someone outside Sumeru showed up too so it’s going to be amazing!”

The two men leave and head toward the grand bazaar. Alhaitham pushes himself up from the corner he was hiding from. A jam session? And an outlander? Surely it’s not the traveler, he would have been made aware of their presence. He’ll have to go investigate. Since working with the dancer, the scribe has had more of an appreciation for the performing arts. It’s something he’s always had a slight interest in as it provides to the wholeness of a human being. Mostly, his interest came from you but he didn’t have the guts to actually admit it.

Alhaitham moves on and ventures around the stalls, buying some food and maybe some housewares. He figures it should be his turn to help out around the house while also doing his work. He knows he mostly helps around the library, but he’s glad to have the chance to go outside. Typically on a beautifully warm day, he’d find a tree to laze under and read, possibly daydream about what if’s, but today has him lacking time for himself to indulge himself. He sighs at the lost reading of new material, but knows he’ll have time to catch up on a later date.

Alhaitham shrugs and continues through the stalls. His feet take him to the doors that muffle new sounds and activity. Deep down, he has a feeling it’s you as you have been away for awhile and it would make sense you would return now. WIth all the changes in Sumeru and the Akademiya, he’s sure that was able to draw you out from wherever you were. And a secret part of him hopes you stay so he can correctly communicate why he agreed with the former sages. As he opens the door toward the Grand Bazaar, his mind races with all the changes he would like to implement with the help of others and you. His newer connections have led him to have a better understanding of those less well off than him. For example, meeting Layla who’s had a project rejected under her Darshan Rtawahist had him thinking even more openly. Although he can’t completely relate to her exhaustion levels…

The joy and freedom of the music welcomes him into the bazaar. The bumbling excitement grows the closer he gets to the middle where the crowd is most dense. Using the strength of his shoulders, he pushes his way through the crowd to come see what all the commotion is about. For the first time in what feels like years, he’s unable to formulate the right words at how he’s feeling.

There you are, looking livelier than ever, playing and dancing to the music. Generally having a good time. Alhaitham had missed your smile so much and there it is, on display for everyone around. He tries to blend into the crowd to avoid catching your gaze but what can he say to you? He’s part of the reason why you left, he’s certain there’s some animosity you’re harboring. The way your eyes glitter as your smile reaches the corner of them has him feeling small and surprisingly unworthy. No amount of studying languages, poetry, and even some romance at the urge of his roommate, could aid him in figuring out what to say.

The music fades and Alhaitham scurries toward the back to steer clear. However, he keeps a ear tuned into whatever conversation you might be having.

“That was amazing,” Nilou comments. “I’ve never heard music or a rhythm like that before. Where did you learn it?”

Your eyes beam at the question and suddenly the crowd around also seems to have the same level of interest. So you get comfortable and pull out your bag. “Well firstly, I traveled to Liyue Harbor as it was the closest place. I had always wondered if the land of contracts had anything with sound waves or music considering the Geo Archon’s power and was surpsiwd to see so little! But on my way back here after the Lantern Rite I heard such lovely music! Anyways, after Liyue I traveled to Fontaine where they live for music there and there are so many instruments! And..” The way you speak of your travels has captivated the audience as well as the scribe. Your great detail about every country in teyvat and all the traditions and cultures you learned makes his heart happy as he smiles in content. Alhaitham has seen enough, and despite wanting to reach out and touch you he resists his urges and walks away.

Before running into the Vahumana sage

The sage then calls out for you and the crowd disperses. There’s anxiety written all over your face as the head of your Darshan emerges from the crowd. The papers and books you’ve written are scattered around you and you gulp the closer he gets. The sage picks up your work and smiles fondly. “I’m so glad you came back. We have missed you dearly here!” The whole crowd visibly relaxes as he motions you over for some privacy. “I had heard that there was a gathering of sorts and wanted to come see it out. We’ve had a couple researchers wanting to study social concepts in theater and the arts and I felt this was appropriate.”

Hidden around the corner is Alhaitham, ready to spring into action and defend you and Nilou if it became necessary. You have been sensing someone's presence for a while, but it wasn’t enough to make you seek it out. Right now, you’re too focused on what your sage is saying and potential implications. “So,” you finally interject, “what are you saying?”

The older man smiles and hands you back your work. “I’m saying that with the recent changes in the Akademiya and your extensive research into this topic, we would like to fully fund your previous and future research. I’ll have to make an appointment but if you are willing, I would love to learn more about what you’ve discovered and how it can help the Akademiya.

“What do you say?”

*****

The sun is setting by the time Kaeya returns to the main city. The two of you have booked a hotel room and you’re eagerly awaiting his return. You hear the door open and you quickly get up to greet him with a hug. You can immediately tell something is off when he doesn’t call you his snowflake. “Hey,” you softly coo, “what happened?”

Kaeya sits on the bed with exhaustion and sighs deeply. “Oh nothing too terrible, sweetheart. I found what I was looking for and secured some deals for Mondstadt’s alcohol industry.” Your ears perk up at the off-putting sentence.

“I thought,” you start, “the alcohol and mixed drinks was the reason you came? Something you were doing for the Knights?”

You feel the way Kaeya shifts and shudders. A slow hand reaches out to his shoulder as you rub at them to relax him. “Kaeya? Why else were you here?” You sit down next to him and rest your head against his. The eagerness you have to tell him the good news overruns your need to comfort your boyfriend. The knight in question quirks his eyebrow and adjusts his head to be in your view.

With a smile, he softly says, “you seem to be excited. How was going in town?”

Without warning you push off of him and blurt excitedly. “They’re letting me do my research!”

Kaeya’s jaw drops in amazement as a knowing grin comes to his face. “Snowflake,” he kisses your nose, “that’s amazing.”

You nod happily and sit cross legged on the bed. “And they’re gonna fund my research, past and future! Plus they told me I can stay here and give lectures to help bridge together-“

“Whoa whoa,” Kaeya chides and moves away from you. “You’re planning on saying here?” You’re taken aback by his slightly harsh tone as you stand up from the bed. You face away from him, unable to stand any expression the cryo user might be emitting.

“I mean, that was the plan. You know that KK. This is what I’ve wanted from the beginning. A, a chance.” You turn around with dignity to face him and you’re met with a stone cold look. If looks could kill. “K-Kaeya?”

“So you’re going to leave me, too?” The break in his voice has you scrambling closer to him. You try to console him but he chuckles and smiles at you. “If you must know what I was doing, I was following a lead about my heritage and I met with the traveler.” He pauses to read your face before he keeps going. “I found out more than I wanted about Khanrieah, something I thought all,” he emphasizes, “Sumeru scholars would know.”

You drop your hands from his frame and place them on your hips. “What the hell do you mean by that? Is that why you helped me?”

Kaeya shrugs and you begin to get more angry. “Might as well come clean,” he sighs. “I did help you because I recognized you’re a scholar. I have ties to Khanreiah and the Abyss, and I thought you could help me. You didn’t immediately but you did help me by coming here so…” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “thanks for that.”

Your eyes fill with disgust and dismay as you push him away from you. This was supposed to be a great thing, you get to continue studying while still being with him. Long distance would be tough but the two of you would make it work. Your musings are silent but Kaeya is more than aware of your thinking face. It’s cute, but right now he knows what he said hurts. He wasn’t planning on saying that but, he can’t let others hurt him. So he has to hurt them first. In his mind his father dropped him off in Mondstadt for a better life; still abandoned is all he can remember. And now, you want to do the same to him. It all worked out regardless, he got to go to Sumeru again to discover his roots and had an amazing relationship.

Your sniffles bring him out of his own head and his mouth opens slightly. The corner of your eyes are tight and filling with tears and your heart feels like it’s on fire. “You lied to me? For your own gain?” A hiccup erupts from your throat as all of your thoughts rush at once. “Did you even love me? Did you really not support me? Archons, you're just like him!” Your voice breaks at the mention of your previous love, and that causes an eye roll from your lover.

“Don’t even bring him up again. I’m not like him.” You can hear and sense the fuel to his response, the fire in his tone as he raises his voice slightly. You quickly scoff and wipe away some tears.

“Bullshit! You both lied to me, you both don’t love me!”

“That’s not true,” Kaeya argues. “I do love you.”

“Then why did you lie? I thought we promised to be open and honest with each other.”

Firm hands gently grab your shoulders. “It’s true you were my ticket to Sumeru, but I do love you snowflake.”

You pout your lips, your fiery emotions still on high. You breathe heavily through your nostrils as your pride can’t let you let him win. “Diluc was right, I shouldn’t trust you.” You knew that would do it. You knew that sealed your victory. The look of betrayal that came across his features was unexpected. His hands left you as if you were something to be left alone. Kaeya’s breathing falters as he struggles to come up with a response.

“At least I’m not hung up on some guy who will never love you back.” All the air escapes your lungs at his proclamation. You have no rebuttal, nothing to defend yourself as your words fail. Kaeya pushes past you as he grabs his keys. “I’m going for a walk. I think we both need to clear our heads. And you need to figure out who you really love.”

You do nothing to stop him as he leaves the hotel room. You do nothing as the weight of what was said finally hits you. The both of you were going for low blows and he hit the lowest. You remembered him talking about his weird family issues, but you never knew that they had ties to the fallen kingdom. You’ve heard about it but know very little of the ancient land. It hurt that Kaeya originally saved you from your Sumeren outfit, but the two of you did genuinely fall in love. That has to be true, right?

Your mind reels with what if’s and you take a number from Kaeya’s book and decide to get some air.

At the tavern.

****

Most evenings he wouldn’t even consider entertaining his roommates plans. But tonight has Alhaitham reconsidering. There was a party of sorts at the tavern, where the drinks are flowing, the music is vibrating, and everyone is having a good time. He’s enjoying having semi intelligent conversations as he can tell Kaveh is getting to his drunken state. Alhaitham is lost in the environment and starts to enjoy himself when the sound of the door opening catches his attention.

In strolls you, anger and frustration across your face as you march up to the bar.

His keen eyes follow your presence and he’s captivated once again. He never thought he would see you again and twice in one day it happened. The glass in your hand dances on your lips as you swallow the liquid in your cup quickly. You take a deep breath, your shoulders relaxing as you blend in with the crowd. Alhaitham bides his time as he sees you talk with old friends, waiting for the right moment to speak to you. For a little bit Nilou comes in to chat with you, but quickly leaves stating she has early practice in the morning. You hug her tightly before she leaves, his mind mulling over what it would be like to have you in his arms like that.

Alhaitham shakes the thought as Kaveh stumbles upon you. Two toned eyes squint toward your direction as Kaveh sits close to you. You welcome him and even hug him. How lucky, he quickly thinks.

“Oh it’s been so long,” Kaveh excitedly slurs. He rests his head in his hand and places a comforting hand on your thigh. “How long have you been back in Sumeru? Y’know I’ve really missed you.”

You giggle and rest your hand on his, taking a quick swig of your new drink. You smile and mirror his actions. “I’ve missed you too, a lot Kaveh.” You sigh in contentment but your smile starts to fade. The blond beside you perks up and removes his hand. With his voice low, he lifts your chin to meet his dilated pupils. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You try to avoid his gaze, but his eyes take hold of you and you crumble under their intensity. “It’s my boyfriend. We had—“

“Wait!” Kaveh interrupts. “Boyfriend?! Did you finally, you know, move on from..?” You shake your head sadly before confirming his excited state. “Yes. He’s a knight. I met him in Mondstadt. He’s just amazing and I really do love him…

“But I got an offer to stay here and he didn’t like that.” You pause to take a drink and lower the empty glass. “We had a bad fight about it and he stormed out.”

Kaveh sighs and finishes your sentence. “And because of that you ended up here.” You nod meekly with a pout and the feeling of wanting to cry. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you harshly wipe them away. “Do you two fight often?” You barely hear the question as the music and loud conversations provide a background to your now very open conversation. You had always felt like you can tell the blond in front of you anything and tonight is no exception. You do feel the stare of someone nearby but can’t quite place it.

You shake your head. “Not really. We’ll have little disagreements about things but we always work them out. I’ve seen him lie to get his way but never with me…I mean,” you sniffle and rest your head on his shoulder. “He saved me cause he thought I would know more about Khanrei’ah cause I’m from Sumeru! What’s a Vahumana scholar gonna know about that?” Kaveh agrees with you before ordering another round of drinks to the table and lets you proceed. “I mean, it’s not like he would know that…but then I took a low blow cause he talked about my feelings for Alhaitham—“

Kaveh puts a finger to your mouth to prevent you from speaking any further. The bartender comes back with your drinks and you both thank him. The blond takes a sip and then a deep breath.

“Please, and I swear to god, please tell me you’re over that asshole!”

A shiver runs up your spine and you try to hide yourself behind your glass. The feeling of being small increases as Kaveh’s glare hardens. “You traveled the world, fell in love, did research, and had to work for said Mora to do the research, and you still have him in your heart?!”

“It’s not like I want to have these feelings! He just…” Your voice trails off as you turn around, finally getting annoyed with the feeling someone was watching you. And suddenly the butterflies you thought had flown from your stomach have returned. The moment your eyes meet his always calculated two toned ones it’s like the world around you disappears. So that’s the person who’s been watching you. Why do you feel relieved? Your heart beat increases, your breathing getting shallow as you see Alhaitham stand up and stride toward your booth. You’re not sure what’s come over you, but the way he’s walking with more confidence than you’ve ever seen is doing things to you. It’s making you relive all your fantasies and old memories of falling in love with the man coming your way. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you grab your emptying glass to cool off.

“I never thought I would see you here. And of course, you’re drinking with this idiot.”

His deep voice rumbles in his chest and you’re struck by the baritone in it. You peer into his eyes and you catch the hint of a crimson flush on his uncovered ears. Huh, where are his headphones? You’re brought out of your haze when Kaveh interrupts.

“Idiot?! You are so- you know what, I’m in too much of a good mood to argue.” He pushes up and walks away. “You two catch up, I'm gonna continue to walk away!” As the blond leaves, the two of you are left alone while the music and idle chatter fills the void. You’re unsure of what to say to him as the silence between you two increases. He had always known of your love of music but thought studying it wasn’t worth your time. And since he never truly explained what he meant by that, that was the message received and you decided to gloat about your news. With your hands on your hips and a growing smirk you blurt out, “guess who got her research project approved? Still think studying music is a waste of time now?”

On the inside he cringes over hearing the words he said to you that day. But on the outside his emotions barely change. The Vahumana sage approved your research? Interesting. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order.” Alhaitham crossed his arms to match your energy, something he won’t readily admit that he’s missed. He also doesn’t miss the way your words come out slurred or how the alcohol has given you extra confidence. Or maybe it’s the time apart.

For a brief moment it’s like the world around you has stopped. It’s as if you’re thrown back to your childish love of the man in front of you, his grandmother scolding him for saying something insensitive to you. There’s that twinkle in his eye that you thought was long gone but as he’s looking at you in this moment… You’re not sure what to think. Your heartbeat is too loud, the music is too loud, and he looks too handsome to be here by himself. But Kaveh hasn’t mentioned a partner for himself or the scribe. This tunnel vision needs to end, you’re not gonna get sucked in again. “So,” you slowly start, “is there anyone special in your life?”

Alhaitham is caught off guard by your question. He wants to take his time to respond, needing time to cover up that he’s never thought of anyone the way he thinks of you. He’s always considered you in high regard and respects you a great deal. But as the two of you have woven through each other's lives and aged, he’s been finding it difficult to see a future without you in it. The way the blood rushes up to his ears is something he is grateful for, since he always has on his earpieces. But now they’re off and he’s afraid his heart is now on display for you to bear witness. The proximity between you two lessens as the question echoes in his mind.

He sighs with a step toward you. “Being the grand scribe, saving Sumeru from itself, and being the announcer for the InterDarshan competition has had me fairly occupied. I don’t have time for such things.” You feel your heart sink at his words. It’s like the icy sting of his words sharp like Kaeya’s vision make the pain more intense. Were you rejected twice in one day? Your chest starts to heave as tears threaten to boil over. Your bottom lip starts to tremble on its own as you back away from him. The back of your knees hit the booth and you sit in it and with it the erasure of the tunnel vision. You’re brought back to reality. The two men that you have treasures greatly have both told you no, whether they are aware of it or not.

Alhaitham changes his posture and relaxes at your state. His eyes softening as you sit down with your thinking face on. “Breathe,” he gently commands, “what’s going through your mind?” You may be upset with him but this is Alhaitham. This man knows you as well as Kaveh does and as you know yourself. He knows when you’re about to panic and remembered what would help you in the past. That struck a chord with you. His voice is calm and soothing like Kaeya’s when he’s taking care of you, yet is all it’s own and equally helpful. You take some deep breaths, your foggy mind confusing which man is in front of you right now. Your hand grabs onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself as you come down and have your breathing calmed. Alhaitham slides next to you and, based on Kaveh’s help with emotional intelligence, asks you a question. “What happened? I saw you earlier and you weren’t like this.”

Your eyes dart up toward him before you sit back in the comfy booth. “It’s me and Kaeya. We had a fight and—“

“Who’s Kaeya?”

The tone in his voice shifts from calming to questioning in an instant. The hints of malice and something unknown to you emanate from the man next to you and you shiver. Did it get colder in here? And why is he looking at you like that? “He’s my boyfriend. I wouldn’t say a fight, just a disagreement.” You pause to study Alhaitham’s features as you notice his shoulders are a little more tense than a couple minutes ago. All of your knowledge about reading people and understanding body language is flying out the window as you study the man before you longed than normal. His expression is one you haven’t seen or can easily fathom. “I uh, met him when I was in Mondstadt. Or rather, he saved me from a pack of hillichurls. Then he introduced me to Lisa and it was a whirlwind and, gosh I love him and…” Your sighing voice trails off as catch the scribe’s gaze. Once again, you’re struck with an unfamiliar expression and you breathe hesitantly before you keep going. “I thought he’d be happy for me, but I think he’s worried about me leaving him. B-but we couldn’t even talk about it properly cause we were both angry and he mentioned my feelings for you and it was awful and we said such mean things to each other—“

You’re taken out of your ramblings with a firm hand on your shoulder. You’re now forced to face Alhaitham with a million and one thoughts running through your head. He licks his lips in anticipation of what he’s about to ask you, aware that you aren’t of your own words.

“You have feelings for me?”

You blink once, twice, thrice before your breathing resumes. Did you just admit what you’ve kept secret for so long? How? You’ve been so careful. You fumble over your words as the room seems to get stuffier. However, the man whose long held your affections seems to be getting closer. Suddenly, you take a deep breath before slapping your cheeks adamantly. “Fuck,” you grunt out, “alhaitham, I love you. A-and I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember!” Your chest heaves from finally releasing the weight of your emotions. For years you’ve wanted to admit your feelings and now you finally have. You gesture your hands openly to him before setting them on the table. “Well, there it is. Happy now?”

You push yourself up and out of the booth to grab a drink to cam your nerves. Your mind is reeling over the fact that you finally said it. You told him, and now he knows. You realize you left before he could properly respond. Maybe it’s better this way, you think. You don’t think he would reciprocate so at least he knows! At least he knows.

A tap on your back turns you around, your drink hanging loosely in your hand. Before you can comprehend who it is, a pair of hands cup your face and pull you in for a kiss. Your eyes go wide before shutting them, holding the glass tightly as you lose yourself to the kiss. Your body goes lax and you put the glass down on the bar as you wrap your arms around Alhaitham. You knew it was him, you had dreamt of being pressed against it and now it’s finally happening. You’re kissing Alhaitham, and he started it!

Shit, you’re kissing Alhaitham!

You open your eyes quickly and push him away. Your eyes are sparkling under what feels like violet lighting where everything is illuminated. And he looks ethereal. He shouldn’t look like this. You shouldn’t look like this. “What the hell, Haitham?!”

The man in front of you looks down at you from his height, a small smirk on his face as he crosses his arms. He starts with an eye roll, “I thought it was fairly obvious what the hell i'm doing.” Your dilated pupils search for an answer as you wait for his response. The condensation is making it harder to hold onto the glass and the reality of the situation. He lowers his head and you can feel his warm breath against your lips. “You told me you love me.

“I’m letting you know that I reciprocate your feelings. I have for a while.”

Your jaw drops along with the drink in your hand. The clattering glass brings you out of your slight daze as you yelp. You try to bend down to pick up the shattered glass before Alhaitham stops you. “Don’t be stupid,” he chides, “you’ll hurt yourself.” He gently holds your hand where a small cut starts to form on your palm. A light trail of blood leaves your hand and you hiss at the pain. Without breaking eye contact with you, Alhaitham takes your hand in his, brings it to his lips, and jots out his tongue to help ease the pain. You feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you bite your lip, your breathing getting shallower. You want to speak but your throat is drying at every second. After what feels like forever, the two of you stand up as a waiter comes to clean up the mess.

Alhaitham tries to interlock your fingers together but you pull away and head to the door. Your feet are moving faster than your mind can think. You want to go back to your hotel, you want to find Kaeya. You want to kiss Alhaitham again. God, do you wanna kiss him again. But you also wanna cuddle up with Kaeya. This is a conflict you never thought you would be in in your wildest imaginations.

The scribe finds you outside the tavern and quickly approaches you. Your hunched shoulders and quick pacing alerts him to your distress. That’s right, he remembers your boyfriend.

He clears his throat and you gently acknowledge him. “Where is this Kaeya? He let you go alone tonight?” You roll your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose.

“Just shut up and kiss me before I start thinking.”

Alhaitham is never one to truly shy away from orders, so he places his hands on your hips and pulls you for another kiss. This one is slower and more thought out than the first surprise one. You find it easy to melt into his embrace, wanting the moment to last a lifetime as his arms wrap around you tighter. His hands hold you firmly against him until that wandering thought about your boyfriend stops him. He can’t help but feel like the two of you are being watched and it’s an eerie sensation. He’s the one to pull away and you’re left baffled. Slightly breathless you ask, “Why did you stop?” Your eyes scan his for an answer as your nerves prepare you for yet another rejection. Your stomach clenches and tears threaten to fall as your eyes start to sting with the possibility of what could have been and what almost happened. Again. You feel the weight of Alhaitham’s forehead against yours as he gently kisses your nose.

“You know,” he softly breathes out with his eyes shut, “I have no problem continuing this.”

“But I do.”

Whatever words you had planned to say to the scribe in front of you are caught in your throat at the new voice. A voice you know all too well and has whispered sweet nothings into your ear for many nights. You push Alhaitham to the side as the cold and hurt face of your lover appears before you. You had never thought about cheating on Kaeya ever in your life, and yet here you are. You let another man kiss you, twice! The man that has held your heart for years finally reciprocates your feelings and you completely forget how the knight has healed you? You hug your arms and feel your airways tighten. Is this another panic attack? Right now? Your vision starts to blur as tears fall freely from the corner of your eyes. Kaeya is the first to react and gently cups your face. “Breathe snowflake. I’m here. You’re safe, you’re safe.” He rubs calming circles with his thumb on your cheek, a gesture he’s come to know is calming for you. Kaeya slowly bridges the gap between you and pulls you in for a gentle hug. “Hey,” he says toward Alhaitham, but his request dies on his lips when he sees the man in question trotting over with a glass of water.

“Drink up,” Alhaitham softly states as he hands you the glass. You nod sharply and take a few sips of the water, all the while Kaeya rubs your back. Kaeya doesn’t miss that this man, he assumes is Alhaitham, also knew how to calm you down like this. The knight scoffs and lets his guard down with a sincere chuckle. “So you must be Alhaitham.”

“And you must be her boyfriend Kaeya,” the scribe responds.

With a large gulp, your eyes dart between the two of them. “And this is the most awkward situation ever.” Kaeya hides a snicker as he notices you’re still a little drunk; partly why he was outside the tavern in the first place. The knight removes his hands from your body and notices the way Alhaitham very gently traces the outline of your face with the back of his finger, matching his breathing with yours. He loves you. Somehow knowing that this scholar also loves you in the way he does calms him and he can lower his guard even more. He blinks twice before addressing Alhaitham again. “So you love her, too?”

The man in question continues his actions without meeting the azure gaze. “So it seems, although it took me far longer to realize it.” Alhaitham pulls away from you, lending out a hand as Kaeya does the same. They help you to stand steady on your feet, still a little wobbly from the sudden panic attack and drinks from earlier. It dawns on you. It’s weird, they both have an arm around your waist and it feels…

Natural.

A warm smile comes to your face before you rest it against Kaeya’s shoulder. Slender fingers tighten on your skin as you peek an eye to your old friend. You try to suppress the giggle that wants to come out but fail. “What’s so funny? You can’t possibly still be drunk.” You lazily shake your head as the three of you start walking. You assume you’re headed to your hotel room but Alhaitham brings you a different way. With the pout he thinks you didn’t catch, he nods upward. “My place is closer. I’m sure my roommate wouldn’t mind the company.” You and Kaeya exchange glances before agreeing with the feeble scholar. As you get closer to your unknown destination, you feel Kaeya’s hand wander farther down your back to finally cup your ass. He gives it a squeeze, making you lose your balance as his fingers try to curl toward your now aching cunt. A whimper escapes your lips and it’s the sweetest and sexiest thing Alhaitham has ever heard.

Kaeya snickers at the blush coming to the other man’s ears as he fishes out his keys. “She likes it when I touch her from behind. It catches her off guard.”

With Alhaitham’s back to you, he unlocks the door and misses how Kaeya has you pressed against his chest and kissing your neck. He’s able to hear your change in breathing and quickly opens the door. “By all means,” he semi strains out, “fuck her for everyone to see.”

You hear Kaeya chuckle before pushing you inside, never letting you go. He suddenly has this need to be surrounded and absorbed by you. Just holding and kissing you isn’t enough. He needs more. He craves it. He wants you to melt on his tongue. And part of him wants to show this Alhaitham just how to treat you. This whole time, the knight has been fathoming just how to make this all work. And he thinks he has an idea. With the door barely locked, Alhaitham leads the two of you to his room for some privacy. Kaeya lays you on the bed and motions for Alhaitham to do the same. His voice is calculating yet playful when he finally speaks. “I have a proposal of sorts,” he starts. Alhaitham crosses his arms after he’s taken his shoes off. With a quirked up eyebrow he nods for Kaeya to continue. “We both love her. And I can tell that we are men above fighting over her affections, considering we are both very special to her. I’m sure she told you the nature of our argument earlier?”

“K-Kaeya, I’m s-sorry for what I said-“ you try to interrupt.

A cool hand cups your cheek as Kaeya kisses your nose. “I know you are, snowflake. But since I still have duties in Mondstadt and you’re here…”

Alhaitham uncrosses his arms with a hmph. “Are you suggesting we share her? As in a polygamous relationship?” Kaeya merely nods and catches your gaze. You’re completely aghast. It’s true you love the both of them and couldn’t be without the other, but will the two of them get along? Is this something Alhaitham would even agree to? He’s not one to share so you’re sure he’s gonna say—

“I would like that.”

“What?!”

“Are you saying you don’t love the two of us?”

You struggle to respond to Alhaitham’s quip but find yourself stuttering over your words. You never thought he would agree. So, he really does love you that much huh? You then go over the pros and cons in your head and you can’t honestly think of anything. Except one thought comes up. “What about the two of you?” You ask, pointing between the two men.

Kaeya has an evil smirk as he approaches Alhaitham and brings him into a surprise kiss. Alhaitham’s yelp of surprise is cut off by the man in front of him grabbing at his chest. It’s quiet, with the exception of the two men kissing beside you. When they break apart, they’re breathless and the lust elevates between the three of you. Kaeya chuckles at the gray haired man’s expression as he licks his lips. “I can see why she’s so smitten with you.”

The scribe tries to recompose himself as he realizes what’s about to transpire. He catches your reaction out of the corner of his eye and doesn’t hesitate to kiss Kaeya again. His hands cup the knight's face as he stands to grind his hips into the other. Kaeya lightly groans into the kiss and starts to lose himself to the man he should be detesting. Alhaitham loosens his grip on Kaeya’s face and trails his hands down the other’s chest and down to his hips, lifting a leg to feel just how hard Kaeya is. The kiss is sloppy and messy, the opposite of Alhaitham in every way and it is turning you on so much. Seeing their kiss has you rubbing your thighs together as you try to inch closer to the two loves of your life. You bite your lip to hold back your whine at being ignored. Why do they get to have all the fun?

Alhaitham is the first to pull away and turn to you. His pupils are blown out not just from the kiss but the way your eyes glaze over with lust as his chest heaves up and down. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling left out.” His eyes wander to your thighs and he smirks. “I thought this is what you wanted? The two of us to get along?” Kaeya then rolls his hips into Alhaitham’s, causing him to give a low moan as the knight unwraps himself from the latter.

“Oh? Is our snowflake greedy?” You find yourself nodding dumbly as Kaeya traces the back of his finger across your face. The lust in his tone has you hissing from his fleeting touch. You move on the bed to sit on your knees, with your face looking up toward the two now very horny men. His hand slowly wraps around your neck with his thumb rubbing at your throat. Your gaze is pleading with him to tighten his grip. He gives a quick squeeze and your eyes roll back, almost losing your balance. His other hand caresses your face then falls down to your chest, lightly playing with your collar bone before rubbing his palm over your pert nipple. You want more, no you need more, so you arch your back into his touch. At your reaction Kaeya pulls away. “Not yet, darling. I have to show Alhaitham how to touch you correctly. So save it for him, okay?”

You can only nod as Alhaitham has already discarded some of his clothes on his own accord. With confidence, Alhaitahm now kisses you directly. The taste of the cocktail you had and his own breath mingle for a smell and taste that has both of you begging for more. His tongue licks at your lips before he sucks at your neck. With your eyes closed in pleasure, you miss Kaeya remove his shirt and place himself behind Alhaitham. You feel Alhaitham shudder slightly as his hands find your waist. “Cup her breasts,” Kaeya whispers in his ear. “Her nipples are sensitive. You might even like to lick them. Like this…” He leans over from behind Alhaitham who leaned over and suckles your breast while cupping and pinching the other. He pulls away with a pop and kiss Alhaitham’s cheek. “Just like that. And don’t worry, she likes it rough.”

That’s all Alhaitham needs to hear before he repeats the actions Kaeya had just done. You gasp in surprise and struggle to stay on your knees. Gray hairs tickle your chest, giving you a sense of comfort. You feel him bite at your nipple and you grab onto his hair for leverage.

Although his mouth is occupied you can still hear him command you. “Keep your eyes on me.” You slowly open your eyes and see his intense gaze boring into yours. He adds the pressure to the breast in his mouth, fondling your other breast harder. It’s weird being under his spell of passion. You never thought he would be trying to make you break in this way. As much as you wanna look away, you can’t. You pull at his hair when he sucks on your nipple as your breath hitches. You breathed heavily through his nose and snickers. With your attention on Alhaitham, you miss the way Kaeya had snuck behind you. His hands are on your hips as he kisses at your neck. You can feel his bare chest against your back, and his warm erect penis against your ass.

You feel him breathe against your ear and your head falls back against him. “Nuh uh, snowflake. I think he said to keep your eyes on him. But let’s get you more comfortable, hm?” With almost practiced form, Kaeya moves back and pulls you so you’re sitting in between his legs as Alhaitham doesn’t break contact with you and moves with you. Your walls clench feeling Kaeya’s erection on your back in anticipation. The man behind you spreads your legs, giving Alhaitham better access to your awaiting body. Lithe fingers all over your body have your head spinning. The scribe releases your breast with a pop and grabs at the back of your head with controlled force.

“I told you,” he growls out, “to keep your eyes on me.” Your hips shake from Kaeya running his fingers around your hips, teetering dangerously close to your lower lips. Alhaitham then slots his lips over yours, darting his tongue into your mouth. The more you kiss him, the more you love the taste of him. You could get drunk off of it. You feel his hands cup your breasts and play with your nipples and you keen into the kiss. The kiss is suddenly interrupted when you whimper out.

“Oh fuck!”

Alhaitham huffs and looks down between your legs. The temperature in the room elevates as he watches Kaeya’s fingers in a haze. The way they open and play with your lips, sliding up and down your pussy. Your breathing shallows as his fingertips keep coming close to your clit but never touches. You wanna buck your hips for more but being in between the two men makes it difficult.

While Kaeya may be playing with you, his eyes are focused on Alhaitham. The way his eyes never leave your pussy has the knight grinning. He spreads your lips wider cause a main to erupt from your throat. With a husky demeanor, Kaeya speaks up. “She gets messy when you’re slow with her.”

“I’m not incompetent in the bedroom,” Alhaitham quickly quips.

“But you don’t know her likes, what turns her on…” Kaeya trails off for a second. “What makes her do this.” He emphasizes by inserting a finger inside your wet pussy, causing you to whine loudly. Your back arches a bit off him and your abs contract. The two toned eyed man in front of you sighs with a gruff before he removes a hand from your chest and copies Kaeya’s movements. He’s also keenly aware of the electricity between him and the knight when their fingers touch. “She feels good doesn’t she?”

Alhaitham tries to ignore the question to enjoy the feeling of your walls clenching around their fingers. Both men have a finger in you, Kaeya closer to your clit with the other below. Their fingers going in and out together has your body needing to shake in pleasure. You’re sure this is a metaphor for something but you’re too blissed out to notice.

“Do you think you could move? You’ve had more time to do this than I have.”

“Heh,” Kaeya chuckles, “are you trying to take charge?”

Their pace inside you increases and your grip on the two men tightens. You’re not sure who, but someone just barely graded your clit and a high pitched moan escapes your lips.

“It would be better. I’ve known her longer.”

Behind you Kaeya rolls his his and starts to rub your aching bud. “Yeah? We’ll have you made her cum so hard she can’t walk? Or made her scream in ecstasy from being fucked over and over.” He inserts two fingers in your slit, making it now three fingers, with his thumb rubbing over your clit.

Alhaitham’s fingers spread your lips again as your juices coat his fingers. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for awhile,” his breathing got deeper. “And since I’ve already passed the tutorial, I’d like to have my turn.”

You groan in pleasure and frustration before finally speaking up.

“Would you both,” you pant, “shut up and fuck me?”

You hear some possessive chuckling as their fingers increase their speed. You shut your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back into Kaeya’s chest with your own heaving. “I-I’m so close! It feels so, so good!” Your arms weakly reach out for the man in front of you grabbing for him to kiss you. He easily falls into the temptation of your lips and silences any moans. His finger inside curls with the captain’s and you whimper into his lips. You feel your walks clench and that cook inside needing to be releaswd.

Kaeya breathes heavily behind you, his cock throbbing at the thought of being inside you. And from being challenged by the man to your front. He’s so used ri being in charge, but having someone who also is used to it is invigorating for the cryo user. It’s sexy and he likes it a little too much. “Aw, you’re close aren’t you? Come on baby girl, cum for us. Let him see what he’s been missing.” Almost as if on command, your hips shake as your orgasm overwhelms you. Before it hits, Alhaitham speeds his finger and releases your lips to hear the beautiful melody that is your release. You cum hard on their fingers, body rolling to help you through the sensation. Both men slow their fingers as two pairs of lips attach to your neck and collar bone. Kaeya leaves fleeting kisses in your sweaty skin before he bites your earlobe. “I think he wants to fuck you. But shouldn’t you prepare him?”

You bite your lip in anticipation and gently push Alhaitham off of you. You maneuver your body to be on all fours in front of the scribe. You start to crawl toward him and lower your body to rest on your stomach. Your hands make good work of his pants to free his cock from its confines. It stands tall, the tip wet with pre cum as it throbs against his chest. You’ve always imagined what his cock would look like and it’s better than your imagination. You unconsciously lick your lips. Above you, Alhaitham cups your face and stares down at you with love and lust. “Just like before, keep your eyes on me.”

You nod eagerly as you slowly wrap your lips around the head. Your tongue swirls around the head and dips into the cleft of it. Alhaitham grips your hair, forcing you to go down further. He’s bigger than you thought, and that makes it all the better. You hollow your cheeks and work your tongue up and down his shaft. The look of lust and desire in his eyes goes straight to your cunt as you raise your hips and shake them. A harsh slap comes to your ass that makes you wet and moan on Alhaitham’s dick. Behind you, Kaeya gives your ass another smack before you feel the tip of his cock mess with your lower lips. You keen backwards and shut your eyes in pleasure. Suddenly, you feel a light slap to your cheek. Possessive eyes meet your glassy ones. “I told you to keep your eyes on me. I don’t care what he’s doing to you.”

Kaeya chuckles. “I’m getting ready to fuck her. Is that alright, snowflake?”

You pull off of Alhaitham’s wet and leaking cock to nod and pant out. “Yes, I’m good master.”

“Good girl,” Kaeya congratulates. “Now make sure to suck him dry as I fuck you, okay?”

You agree and go back to sucking off Alhaitham. The scribe tosses his head back as your warm mouth takes him again. His breath escapes with a groan as his hand stays firm on your head. “Is this what he’s reduced you to? An eager slut who loves sucking my cock? You always wanted to be between two men,” Alhaitham hisses as you take him to the base. “So fucking dirty.”

“The scholar has a nasty mouth on him. I like it,” Kaeya comments before his erect penis slides inside you, your essence acting as lubricant. “Oh you always feel so good, princess. Take your master’s cock.” He slams his hips into you and you give a muffled yelp. Your grip on the scribes thighs tighten as Kaeya sets a brutally teasing pace. He starts at nice and slow, letting you get adjusted to him and then pistons into you. Saliva falls out the corner of your mouth as he pounds you, making it hard to focus on the dick in your mouth. Kaeya is unrelentless, incredibly turned on by the two people in front of him. He knows he loves you, and maybe in time he’ll love the man you're blowing. Kaeya is sure of it. With how tightly he’s gripping your skin, you’re sure his nails will leave indents. That thought has you moving your hips back into him. All the while, Alhaitham still hasn’t broken eye contact with you.

All he can think of is how good you’re making him feel. He wants this all the time and never wants to let you go. You’ve already cum once and he assumes you’ll cum again, so finally having intercourse with you will have to wait. He doesn’t want to tire you out, and from the night you’ve had he thinks two orgasms is enough. He feels the need to unload himself into you, a feeling he’s used to on some lonely nights but being able to do this with you is something else entirely. Kaeya is groaning and grunting behind you as your walls clench around him. He knows he’s getting close and can judge that his new partner is too. So to make things easier, he leans over to rub at your clit viciously. He feels you shake and you stop to yell in muffled pleasure. You suck on Alhaitham. Hard.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you do that.” Hearing this, you suck him harder as Kaeya’s fingers bring you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s husky voice is enough to bring you to your knees but hearing it in this capacity has you seeing stars. You feel his hips buck up into your mouth as his hand speeds up. “Shit, I’m gonna cum. You better take it all. I don’t wanna see a drop on these sheets, you understand? Take all my cum.” You hear him grunt through his teeth, his hot cock throbbing in your mouth. Before you know it, his hips rise and his hand presses down as he releases into your mouth. Curses and mumbles of your name flow from his lips as his balms empty down your throat. You pause your ministrations to catch his face in utter ecstasy.

It’s beautiful. You want to remember this face for a long time.

His cum tastes a little salty, kind of like his attitude, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. After seeing Alhaitham succumb to euphoria, Kaeya holds onto you tighter as he quickens his pace. “Such a good girl, making him cum like that. Now take my seed, princess. I know you wanna be full of me. And since,” he thrusts hard, “you’re so obedient, don’t spill a drop.” With your mouth free, you’re able to moan and whimper as loud as you want. Your throat gets no reprieve as Kaeya pounds into you.

“F-fuck Kaeya, you feel so good.” That earned you a spank to your ass.

“That’s not,” he spanks you again. “That’s not what you call me.” He rubs your clit hard as tears come to your eyes.

“I-Im sorry! It felt so, so good! Can I, can I cum?” Your whines and pleads are a symphony to the two men as the knight finally reaches his climax with a loud whimper. He empties himself into you, holding you against him. You hear him mutter about how you’re a good girl and how good you feel. From the rush of intense and overwhelming emotions, and the physical stress you were under, it’s no surprise you passed out.

Alhaitham is concerned when you’re very clearly sleeping and Kaeya is still inside you. He coughs, “shouldn’t you remove yourself? I guess we fucked her so hard she couldn’t handle it.”

Kaeya gently removes himself from you and trails kisses down your cheek to your neck. He signs softly before asking, “where’s your bathroom? I’ll clean her up so she won’t wake up with all this filth.” Alhaitham points him where to go and he has a moment alone with you. Goodness, you’re even more beautiful asleep. He can’t help but leave a small kiss on your lips. Kaeya returns with water and a towel, immediately cleaning you up without waking you. The temperature in the room starts to drop as the lust fades. Alhaitham returns to the bed and sees Kaeya do the same opposite you. “We can talk in the morning,” Alhaitham concludes, “I think rest is most important for us right now.”

*****

The sunlight peaks into the bedroom, causing you to awake from your slumber. You get up and stretch, feeling some soreness across your body. You turn to the left and see Kaeya, a warm smile coming to your face. You turn to the right and notice the sleeping form of Alhaitham. The butterflies return to your stomach as you brush some of his hair out of his eyes. The sunlight makes him look ethereal in the morning and you want to see this all the time. You lightly kiss his nose before snuggling back into bed, realizing that the unthinkable is possible with your research and in your love life, the future looking bright.

#kaeya alberich #kaeya x fem!reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #kaeya smut #genshin smut #alhaitham smut #long fic #kaeya x fem!reader x alhaitham #alhaitham x y/n #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #my writing #i did the thing

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