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specshroom · 14 days

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°~ A MAGE IN THE JUNGLE ~°

Includes: Use of she/her, Slimy naga dick, Size difference, strangers to...fucking? Idk.

In which: Our Mage searches the jungle for a rare species to add to her "research".

She curses as her boot clad feet catch on another root, almost sending her tumbling into the dewy jungle ground. Deciding to stop for a short break, she swats at the buzzing mosquitoes, taking her hat off to fan herself futilely while eyeing the map she bought.

The vender who sold it to her was an eccentric type, which is always a good sign in her eyes. If you're going to scam people at least commit to the whole "mysterious merchant" bit. The old hag managed to make her cough up 7 copper coin for this "traveler's essential".

Her goodwill has not been paid back as apparently the map was more unreliable than she expected. The mage curses herself as she glowers at the useless map, trying to decipher where the hell she is.

After a few more minutes of squinting and pointing to random places on the map, she just scrunches the flimsy paper in her hands and sets it on fire, burning it up before the embers could even reach the floor. She wasn't looking for anything any cheap map could show her anyway.

She came here to follow an urban legend about a deadly beast that stalks the jungle. The creature has many different variations depending on who's telling the story but what is consistent is the shining gold scales adorning the creature. Stories vary widely from village to village, some say it's an old wrathful god sent down to punish those greedy enough to seek it out and some say it's a beautiful maiden with a golden tail here to bring good fortune to those deserving of it.

Which ever story is the truth, she just couldn't hold back her fanaticism. A strange creature that apparently nobody has seen before but for some reason is being spotted closer to nearby villages more and more? That is absolutely right up her alley.

Now if she could only find the damn thing. The villagers seemed almost relieved that someone else was going to try and find this thing, so getting information was quite easy. While the area has been narrowed down, it's still a huge chunk of jungle. At this point it would be easier if the monster just came out and tried to eat her already.

The mage percs up when they hear water flowing and walks in that direction until she stumbles on a river. She kneels down by the waters edge, it looks pretty deep or maybe the water is just too murky to see the bottom. She hums and pulls out the flask she enchanted, fills it with water and waits for the magic to properly dispose of the dirt particles and bacteria before taking a long gulp.

This river is wide and the water flows slowly but surely past her. She places her hand in the water, curious to see if she can see the bottom or perhaps any fish to eat.

She softly chants an incantation, forcing the dirt particles away from her hand. This proves harder than she thought as she's never had to cleanse flowing water before.

She leans in closer to concentrate her energy and eventually the water becomes clearer and she can see something glistening at her from the water. Is that really treasure at the bottom of the river? Could she be that lucky?

She squints and leans closer to get a better look, the golden specs glinting in the murky water blink at her through the surface.

She freezes and the blood in her veins turns colder than the depths of the river.

Before she can even move a huge clawed hand shoots up from the surface and clings onto her arm, tearing through her cloak, undershirt and skin. There's no time for a painted scream as she's pulled into the water with great force. She can feel the waters resistance against her body as it's dragged into the murky depths.

Before this beast actually drowns her she manages to force her other hand against the current to grip onto the beasts scaly wrist. She casts the first spell she can think of, Combustion.

Suddenly the surface of the water explodes outwards, splashing water high into the air. She propels herself upwards and breaks the surface to hover above the water. She curses and looks around frantically, she can't lose the monster now. Panicking, she summons her hat and starts chanting, willing the plentiful vines of the jungle trees to plunge into the river and search for the beast.

When she feels a tug she wills the vines to pull the heavy struggling mass to the surface. The huge mass writhes and thrashes in its confines as it rises from the water.

She can finally see just how massive this thing is as it fights and snarls at her. It's much bigger than any Naga she's seen before, the human half is near orc sized! The bottom half being even bigger with the long thick tail thrashing in the water below. She reinforces the vines to bind the rest of the ridiculously large tail and sets the beast down on the ground next to the river.

When her feet meet the ground, she sighs and wills the water out of her soaked clothes. She checks her bleeding arm and sucks in a breath at how deep the gashes are.

"Now look what you did. Fucking hell, thats deep. How long are your claws?!"

Of course she can heal it but it's such a pain. The monster on the ground hisses and spits in response.

She takes a better look at it, or him, she discovers. His scales really do shimmer like gold with black scales painting a pattern all the way down his back and tail. His white underbelly fades into something resembling human skin as her eyes move up his rapidly moving chest. The gold scales fade into a darker black down his shoulders to the tips of his clawed fingers. Her eyes flicker to his intense stare, pure gold flickers in his irises. His drenched black hair gets in the way of his glare.

"Wow."

She can't help but verbalise her awe. She carefully moves around him to look at him in a different angle.

"I knew you were a naga. I knew it."

She summons a book into her hand, not her spellbook but one for these special cases. She flips to a new page and licks the tip of her pencil. She crouches down to look at him expectantly,

"Do you happen to know how much you weigh? What do you eat? Most nagas are some sort of omnivorous but I'm assuming you eat mostly fish. How many fish do you have to eat to stay this size?"

She gestures incredulously to all of his giantness.

He just growls some more, quiter this time as his confusion overtakes his anger somewhat.

"Come now, I know you can understand me and I know you can speak."

He stops growling to stare at her incredulously. How could she possibly know that? The giant snake man tries to readjust but hisses again, this time in pain. She jolts up and immediately goes to assess the wound on his wrist, which is tied tightly to his back. She cringes at the red, fleshy wound she created on his body. So much for first impressions. Without much warning she immediately starts with the healing spell. This creates great discomfort for him, as his cells rebuild themselves but she knows this is better than dragging it out for longer.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

She coos at the massive man almost like he's a child or a small animal. This woman evades him. Once she's done and his wrist is good as new she springs up and clears her throat, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Sorry about that but...you did try to eat me so..."

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know how exactly. By the scowl on his face it doesn't look like it would be anything good. She crouches down again, peering down at him.

"Do you still want to eat me?"

He growls, nothing but hatred in his beautiful eyes as he hoaursly spits out,

"I want nothing more in the world."

"..."

The mage tries and fails to hide a girlish giggle behind her hand as she rocks back and forth on her feet. She reacts as if he'd just complemented her outfit. The Naga man pulls his mouth into a snarl and huffs in irritation, hating how this woman continues to confuse him.

After composing herself she summons her little reaserch book again, holding it against her crouched thighs to write.

"Have you actually ever eaten a human before? Be honest."

The Naga writhes in his bonds to eventually turn away from her so atleast he doesn't have to face his captor. He lies there for awhile just squirming every so often, he's already tried to cut the vines with his claws but she must have done some kind of reinforcement magic when she healed him. Damn witch.

While he devises an escape plan, he can hear scratching on paper from behind him. The mage seems to be writing quite a lot in her book. When the Naga looks back at her he catches her gaze staring intently at the intricate patterns on his back, the way the scant black scales blend with the bright gold makes for a very unique pattern.

"How much will you sell it for"

She stops sketching and looks back up at his eyes. She lets out a confused "hmm?"

This only makes him angrier.

"My hide! It must be worth a fortune! That's why you're here!"

Her gaze softens a bit, kicking herself mentally for being so unthinking towards the man. He might be big and intimidating but that doesn't mean he can't be scared for his life.

"Look, I don't want your hide. It would be much easier to just fake one anyway since nodoby knows what you actually look like. I just want to ask you a few questions and then let you get back on with your day. I'll even cook you a meal as a thank you."

The snake man is obviously skeptical, all he does is stare back at her with those gorgeous eyes.

She sighs and opens her book back up, flipping over to a particular page.

"Researching rare and perculiar creatures is a hobby of mine."

She rolls down onto her stomach and shuffles closer to the massive Naga. She leans on her elbows to show him the open page as if they were best friends at a slumber party and she's showing him her dairy.

"You're not even the rarest or most sought after Naga species I've met."

She points to a drawing she sketched of a male Naga, this one with the torso and arms of a human but the tail and head of a snake. There's a bunch of scribbles and descriptions around the drawing in a language he can't read.

"Where he's from people worship him like a god. He's a very rare species that can hypnotise someone just by looking into their eyes."

She chooses to leave out the part where she willingly let the Naga hypnotise her and use her as he pleased for weeks.

He doesn't have a response to give the mage, staring blankly at the pages as she rattles on about other species she has in her book. His skepticism somewhat dampened by these sketches of Naga just like him but with characteristics he's never seen before.

The mage notices how dark the sky has gotten, catching a few stars glinting overhead. She gets up and starts assembling the tent she brought. Pulling thick fabric out of her infinitaly deep satchel.

The Naga man just lies there watching, wondering if it would be so bad to comply with this mage. They don't seem dangerous or malicious at all but the magic they wield is still a concern. She talks to him as she works on building her temporary abode.

"Y'know, the village folk are quite nice. If you want I could talk to them, I'm sure they would rather cohabitate than live in fear of a man-eating monster in the jungle. Since you're definitely a rare species this part of the jungle could even be named as a conservation zone."

She keeps yapping stuff the Naga man doesn't care to listen to. The mage erects her shoddy little tent, does some sort of chant and then hurriedly crouches inside the small space.

She stays inside there for a while to the point where the Naga man thinks she might not return for the night. He smells something absolutely devine and realises it's cooked beef coming from inside the tent.

The damn mage walks outside with a steaming bowl of that devine smelling concoction. She stabs a piece of meat with a fork and offers it to him after blowing on it a little. She doesn't really give him time to react before poking the fork into his mouth. His taste buds are lighting up and he almost moans at the taste.

The mage grins at how he accepted her offer and stands back up.

"I just want to ask you a few questions. I'm sorry for causing you trouble but I didn't come all this way for nothing. I'm more than happy to repay you for your troubles if you just come inside."

After that she turns and walks back into the tent. As she walks away the vines binding his body loosen until they fall from his body entirely.

He's free. She's giving him an out. He could just leave.... But he can still taste the meat on his tongue. Nothing has happened to him yet so atleast he knows it's not poisoned or spiked. He turns to where the dark water of the river calls to him and turns back to the fire light coming from inside the mages tent. He sighs and hangs his head. As if the jungle itself is trying to urge him, a cool breeze blows past that seems to urge him closer to the tent.

The Naga sighs, stretches his sore limbs and slowly slithers towards the tent. He takes a deep breath before parting the fabric of the opening and crouching inside.

As he expected, the tent is much bigger than it appears on the outside. Bedding and pillows cover the floor and there is a fire with a pot over it in the middle.

The mage is humming to herself while pouring more steaming hot stew into two bowls. He sits across form her coiling his tail into a pile to sit on top of it.

She holds out a steaming bowl to him and waits patiently for him to take it. He hesitantly accepts the offer and, after watching her eat a fair portion of her own bowl, starts slurping up the meaty stew.

After the first and second serving the mage places her empty bowl aside and picks up her book. As the Naga pours himself a third helping she clears her throat, making him look up at her expectant gaze. He huffs but nods, lazing back against his tail to keep enjoying his meal. The mage gleams across from him.

"I don't know how much I weigh, I eat mostly fish and I've never eaten a human."

The mage scribbles all this down as he speaks, very pleased with his cooperation.

"How often do you shed?"

The Naga rests his arms on his tail like it's a comfy backrest. He takes a generous gulp of his stew before answering,

"...Once every season."

"So you grow moderately quick then? And you're still growing? Or do you think this is how big you'll get."

"I still shed, so I'm still growing."

The woman nods and jots that down.

"You're a constrictor type, right? No venom or hypnotising?"

He gives her a deadpan stare, as if to say "What do you think?". She gets the idea and confirms her own theory.

she chews her lip, deliberating something before she finally asks.

"Can I measure you?"

He gives her an irritated look before he slowly unwinds his tail from it's bunched up state, unfurling it out on the floor as he lies on his stomach.

The mage wastes no time springing up and pulling a rolled up tape measure out of her hat. She holds it out to him and says,

"Hold this at your head, please."

He boredly does as she asks and she carefully walks back the length of his body. He doesn't know why but he straightens his tail as much as possible while looking at her over his shoulder. When she gets to the tip of his thick tail she exclaims some numbers in a measurement he doesn't know but from the look on her face it's clearly impressive. She hurriedly scribbles that in her book.

The measuring roll disappears and the Naga goes back to his meal. He pours what's left in the bowl into his awaiting mouth before he feels a soft touch on his tail and freezes.

He slowly looks behind him at the culprit. He watches her with a predatory gaze as she hesitantly tests his patience. He watches her, as if daring her to go further and so obviously she does. She inches higher up his tail to where is gets much thicker, lightly tracing the patterns on his reptilian skin. She softly touches his golden scales as if they're fragile.

The mage gets more confident and crawls higher up his tail, getting more inquisitive and bold.

"Is the underside more sensitive?"

She asks, genuinely curious. He doesn't answer, just keeps staring at her with a look that says "Try it", so that's what she does. She looks into his eyes and slides her hand down the side of his tail towards the white underbelly.

He strikes before she can even blink. He has her on the floor coiled up in his tail as he entraps her whole body with his. She doesn't offer much of a fight besides some squirming but his tightening hold on her body forces her to still.

"Is this what you want mage?"

She says nothing, only looks up at him with those same curious eyes. He can feel her heart beat as he squeezes her rib cage, it beats steady and bold. She's not scared of him at all and that intrigues him more than he likes.

The Naga looms over her, he reaches out to grab her jaw tilting her head around to look over her face. He's tried to ignore it but he's also quite curious about her and her own species. He pinches his fingers slightly so that it makes her lips pout together before he reaches out with his other hand to take her pink tongue in between his thumb and pointerfinger. She just stares up at him, offering no resistance.

He strokes the small wet muscle with his thumb, rubbing over where it would split into two if she was a Naga like him. It's so small compared to his fingers and much warmer than he anticipated, probably due to the warm meal they just shared. He sticks his tongue out to lick the air and pauses when he smells something unfamiliar but unmistakable, coming from the Mages lower parts.

He's smelled it once before when he caught sight of a human woman bathing in the river, he couldn't help but linger in the brush and watch the human as she touched herself. He feels the same need now that he felt then, a curious burn in his stomach.

The mage struggles in his hold,

"I know you're curious too..."

She says up at him, almost hopefully. She slowly struggles her legs free to wrap them around his wide torso, squeezing him between her thighs. As he looks down at her the snake man feels her warm body heat radiating off of her seeping into his skin, the movement of her chest, her pulse. He can feel his cock poking out from the slowly parting slit on his white underbelly.

He licks the air one more time before his mouth catches hers in a needy kiss. She immediately kisses back with fever, fidgeting more in his hold making him tighten the heavy coils which only makes her let out a pleasured cry into his mouth. His tongue feels so odd on her own, it's much longer than hers and he pushes it down her throat with abandon.

His tail slithers around her body, lifting her shirt up. When she first feels his cold skin against her warm stomach she's filled with need to feel him against every inch of her skin. She struggles in his hold, kissing him with more need and trying to grind her neglected cunt against something.

The Naga huffs a laugh and watches her kick her legs helplessly.

"Do you have other clothes?"

He mumbles against her lips, she nods into the kiss.

His claws tear her pants and underwear away as if the garments were made of tissue paper, doing the same to the neckline of her shirt and undershirt. She groans at the feeling of his cold skin against hers and the humid night air on her cunt.

She feels a slick substance drip onto her pussy and groans loudly.

"Show me. Let me see."

She pleads and struggles even more. He chuckles and nibbles on the skin of her neck,

"Little thing like you should be scared. What if it's too much for you?"

His concern is real even if he's insanely turned on by this situation. Her body might not be able to keep up with her inquisitive mind.

"Try me."

She looks into his eyes with determination, he looks back. One of his hands go to stroke his growing cocks as they unsheath from their slit. She stretches to pear over his tail wrapped around her. There's two, one big cock clearly meant for insemination, the same colour as his white underbelly and a second reddish coloured one, she assumes is meant for extra stimulation. The Naga strokes the big one with one hand, both cocks have slick ooze spilling from them and they're dripping with slick which she guesses is produced from the slit they come out of.

She worms her hand over one of his coils to grip onto his tail, she whines loudly at him. She wants it inside her so bad. He chuckles at her again as more of his precum drips onto her pussy lips.

He can't deny her pleas for long and against his better judgement he prods at her entrance with his cock, rubbing the tip up against her hole.

She grinds up into him and he takes that as the go ahead to slide inside her. The slippery tip sheathes inside her rather easily, it's the rest of him he's worried about. He struggles to hold himself back from pounding the hot tight pussy squeezing around him, he truly doesn't want to hurt the Mage.

Said Mage is almost in tears at being unintentionally edged by him. She squeezes her thighs around his massive waist, squirming around as much as she can. The Naga finds he likes the way her soft naked body wriggles in his coils, he especially likes the way her thigh muscles tense and relax. His sharp claws gently caress the fat of her thighs, curiously squeezing and jiggling the fat slightly. She whines again and he decides to be merciful and slides his cock further inside her while gripping her thighs.

He's too slow, too cautious and she just can't take it anymore.

She mumbles a little spell and the Nagas body feels a sudden force pulling him closer to her making him hiss as his cock is suddenly thrusted to the hilt. The smaller cock is rubbing up against her clit delisciously and the slick coating his cock seeps out of her pussy.

"If I want you to stop, I can make you. Stop, pussying around fuck me."

He stares down at her with blown out eyes, she stares up at him so determined while still being thoroughly bound in his hold. His breathing is more ragged and a grin finds it's way on his face. He looks almost feral and it makes the mages pussy clench around him which makes him reactively thrust back.

She's spun around suddenly in his hold, his tail unwinding until her arms are free and there's one coil left around her waist. Her arms are quickly bound by his own hands, gripping her much smaller arms. He gives a hard thrust into her cunt and growls in her face as she moans back up at him.

He starts a rough pace, having thrown all cation to the wind. Her tight human pussy squeezes him so tight like he squeezes around her body with his tail. The loud wet slapping sounds his hips make against hers make everything even more erotic. His coiled tail around her grips her waist tightly and he groans when he can feel his own cock bulge against her stomach where his tail holds her.

He brings the end of his tail to wrap around her wrists binding them together while his ramming into her soaked pussy.

He speeds up even more and places his palm on top of his smaller dick, pressing it against her clit. His other hand is gripping her under thigh so hard she's pretty sure his claws have pierced her skin. The stimulation on his sensative cock makes him frantically thrust into her until he releases deep inside her. He shakes and spasms as he empties himself into her. If he was more conscious he would be embarrassed at how needy he must have looked.

His orgasm lasts quite awhile longer than she expected, she realises he must have been really pent up as his cock just keeps shooting seed into her every few seconds. The poor Naga looks exhausted when his orgasm finally ends. His eyes are closed, breathing deeply with strands of black hair fall delicately around his face. The tail around her wrists loosens and she immediately goes to pull him down into her embrace, clutching his sweaty body into her warmer one.

He hums into her neck, enjoying her warm softness. His tongue flicks out occasionally to lick her salty skin and smell her on the air.

"Did I tire you out, big guy?"

She jokes, while her hands caress the comparatively massive expanse of his back. She tries to remind herself that he might be inexperienced and more sensitive than usual, she doesn't want him to feel bad about getting overstimulated.

The Naga lifts his head from her neck, his body casts a shadow over hers as he looms over her again. He gives her a sharp fanged grin.

"Don't be so cocky, Mage."

The end of his tail slowly comes from behind to wrap around her neck as the coil still wrapped around her waist lifts her torso up high. His softening cock slips out of her dripping cunt as he lifts her up with his tail. She groans low as she feels the copious amounts of slick and spend fall from her pussy to the floor.

The naga curiously runs his thumb up the length of the mages pussy, gathering up the fluids. He feels a strange urge to keep as much of his cum inside her as possible. Careful of his sharp claws he opts to push his spend back into her pussy with his tongue, feeling the way she squirms and clenches around his forked tongue. The Naga hisses lightly in delight and smooshes his face into the fat warmth of her thigh while looking into her eyes. She peers at him with a dazed look, loving the way his tail lightly squeezes her thoat.

"I'm far from done with you."

As it turns out she didn't get to ask him many questions that night. Not that she complained about it much.

#omg finally finished this thank god #shitty title but idk #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #its basically an x reader right?#I know snake skin isn't called a hide but it just sounded weird calling it skin???#teratophillia #terato #naga #naga x human #naga x reader #monsterfucker #monster lover

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backyardboytoy · 1 month

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Imagining that you walk into the woods in your local town, gently taking a stroll until when you take a small break you realise you weren’t leaning against a tree…it was a 10ft tall werewolf, and seemingly it was in heat as you could tell just by looking down.

It needs a womb to release in and it seems it’s chosen you…

Contents: Cumflation, Lactation, impregnation

"Oh boy, howdy -" is the stupid thing that ends up tumbling from my mouth. Because damn that's a big boy with a ridged rod between his legs. His heavy, audibly sloshing balls complement his whole horny monster look, fantastically.

The Wolfman huffs, the open air fogging from how hot his breath is. I couldn't really make out any pupils in the yellow of his eyes but his snout tilts down to where I am. A bit of drool is slinging down his jaws onto his own neck. He opens his mouth and i'm half expecting to be torn to shreads only for a deep guttural voice to ring out and say one thing.

"Help."

"Huh?" Is the response I come up with because, hello??? My eyes jolt back down to the throbbing monster cock already so pent up its leaking pre in sticky globs onto the ground with every pulse. And it clicks what he seems to be at least trying to ask for. I tilt my head up at the Wolfman. "Uh, do you wanna fuck me?"

His ears perk up, and the drool starts reaching his chest. An impaitent panting noise fills the air.

Without a second thought, I grin. "Yeah, that's fine!" I hooked my hands under my pants and boxer briefs and pulled them down. "I've been horny all day. Fuck me good alright?" He all but lundged for me when I said that. His clawed hands coming down and grabbed my sides. Hoisting me into the air dispite My yelp of surpise.

I feel the tip of his cock prod at my holes entrance. Looking down makes me swallow because his shaft is twice as large as a baseball bat. But I don't have any time to think further because he's already pushing it into me.

His cock manages to gape my hole open at a third of the way down his length on the first go. A grunt escaping me when I feel how much he's inside of me already.

A deep inhale from him is the only warning I get before an explosion of warmth fills me. "Fuck-" i grit my teeth when he immediately decided to cum on entry. It's a oozing sound when cum starts spilling out to paint the forest floor.

I pant and as soon as the sensation stops the hands on my sides pull me up and drop me back down on his monsterily thick cock. Turns out monster cum makes a great lubricant for getting a cock even deeper. A perverted squelch sound now pairs with each messy thrust.

I'm breathy, and look down to find out I'm almost halfway down his length when his cock tip nudges deep at my insides. Assuming he hit my cervix, made me huff. But surpisingly no pain had accompanied the prod just a nagging pleasure.

The Wolfman growled, his hands pulling me off his cock till only the tip was at my entrance again. All before slamming home into my hole. I yelled feeling the cock ram through my poor cervix and barrel into the wall of my womb. Why did that feel good? Holy shit? A churning sound hit my ears, and I looked down to see his heavy balls clentching.

Thick cum splattered into my waiting womb, with a purpose. Monster sperm violating and ready to impregnate any egg they could possibly hunt down. "Fuck fuck-" my stomach surged outwards this time. My cervix apparently not wanting to let the monsters cum let down. I looked four months pregnant with just cum.

With a huff, he fucked me back down his cock once more. Fuck, he was so big and there was so little room for my hole to accommodate, I could feel every pulsating vein decorating his shaft. He fucked me up and down, up and down. My belly sloshed every time me pulled me up and down.

I looked down once more to find I was nearly down to base but knew I wouldn't be taking his knot, unfortunately. His cock is so massive that even with his length fucking my cervix wide and his tip slamming into the wall of my womb his knot wasn't even reaching my ass.

He suddenly threw his head back and howled, cutting my thoughts short.

He stilted once more, his cock pressed against my womb. I felt his cock pulsating as each splash of cum shooting into my waiting womb. I groaned and watched my stomach grow further to accommodate my heavy womb. By the time he stopped coming I looked eight months pregnant.

My chest was wet, making my look down to see myself lactating through my shirt. I chuckled high off of monster cock and cum.

He got me pregnant. Fuck my body knew it was inevitable.

I could only groan when he fucked my down his length once more.

The joy of being a living condom for a monster in heat.

#monster nsft #monster lover #monster fucker #cf #monster smut #moocow #rapid pregnancy #technically i guess #mpreg #fantasy smut #werewolf nsft #jack rabbit text #jack rabbit asks #jack rabbit stories

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raginglesbian2006 · 2 months

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Hihi!

I enjoy your fics and I was wondering if I could request Alastor x reader where the reader paints Alastor's nails? Maybe reader paints their nails and wants to match with Alastor? Thanks for writing cool fics!

omg this is so good

Self-care day

"I declare today as self-care day!"

Every hotel resident looked at you with dumbfounded looks on their faces as they sat in front of you on the couch. Charlie cheered from the corner.

Angel Dust, someone you'd grown close to during your stay at the infamous hotel, rose up from his seat and said, "Ya heard her. It's self-care day. Shut your traps and get movin'!" You looked up at him with a grateful sigh.

You had joined this hotel when the extermination had been moved up. You were doing fine till then but panicked when you heard the news and immediately took shelter in the confines of the Hazbin Hotel. Much to your fortune, you were accepted immediately- by Charlie and Vaggie that is. Others...well...they took some time. But you made friends anyway!

Well... you couldn't call Alastor, your friend. He was more of an acquaintance...of sorts. A menacing smile you saw from time to time wander around the hotel. He managed to spook you a couple of times by randomly appearing behind you and greeting you with a loud and boisterous laugh. You almost fell down the stairs and cracked your skull open once, had it not been for Alastor's shadows preventing you from losing your balance.

"Now my dear, death at the bottom of the stairs of this fine establishment won't do well for its name, now, would it? What would the papers say?"

After the great war between the demons and the angelic exterminators and losing one of the best souls that had graced this hotel; everyone helped rebuild it to its former glory. Scratch that. It was more glorious than before.

So a day after, you had suggested to Charlie that everyone working at the hotel should deserve some rest. Quality time with themselves, if you will. Of course, Charlie was all in.

This is what led to you proudly presenting your idea in front of the denizens of hell residing in the hotel, including the literal king of hell. Alastor was nowhere to be seen as usual. He usually disappeared when called for hotel "activities" which he deemed "a waste of time."

Oh well.

At least your idea seemed to be going well for now.

Angel had pushed Husk and pestered him to let him comb his fur. He pinky promised not to make any sex jokes for an entire week if he let him do it. Husk eventually gave in which made Angel squeal in joy.

Charlie had put cucumber slices on Niffty's eyes since she refused to sit still and enjoy the face massage she had recommended. Needless to say, the little she-devil walked around the hotel lobby, with her eyes covered by cucumbers, bumping into the pillars again and again.

"Yay! Pain!" Niffty exclaimed, gleefully. Well, at least she was enjoying it.

Lucifer was teaching Charlie how to prune Vaggie's newfound wings. He was very particular with how it should be done and carefully guided Charlie through it. You absolutely loved to see them bonding.

You, on the other hand, were painting your nails. You'd noticed Alastor's claws before. You really liked the way they shone against the light. So thus, you'd resolved to paint your nails a bright red, like his claws were. Whilst you were amid your manicure, you heard the telltale static noise that announced Alastor's arrival wherever he went.

You watched as Alastor walked in through the doors of the hotel and stopped to see everyone, either on the ground or on the couch, indulging in some well-deserved self-care.

"Ah, I see you all are still not done with your... shenanigans, hm?"

Charlie gleefully said, "Al! Come join us! It's self-care day!"

Alastor let out a staticky sigh, "No my dear, as much as I would love to participate, I have better things to do." Charlie frowned but she expected this behavior from him.

Alastor was about to leave when suddenly Lucifer chimed in nonchalantly, "Maybe he's scared."

A sickening crack was heard. Alastor swiftly turned his head towards the king of hell, who was busy brushing his future daughter-in-law's wings.

"WHAT. DID. YOU. SAY?" Alastor's radio static rose significantly.

"I said," Lucifer emphasized, "Maybe you are just scared of a little massage... afraid of nail clippers. Oooh! nail polish, the sheer absolute horror!"

You chuckled at his theatrics and so did the rest of the hotel. Oh, but Alastor was not amused in the slightest. If looks could kill, Lucifer's head would be on a stick by now with the rest of his body torn to shreds.

"I can assure you, Your Majesty," Alastor's voice crackled, "I am not scared of the frivolous habits you indulge in."

"Oh?" Lucifer's smirk widened, "Prove it."

No one spoke except for Angel Dust, who whilst combing Husk's fur yelled out, "DRAMA."

You felt the air around you tense up. Alastor's grin widened even more, but you could feel it was his annoyance peaking at the king's suggestion.

Without a word, the tall deer demon started walking towards your direction.

Wait....that can't be right. Why is he walking towards you!?

Your eyes widened as he sat down right in front of you, on the ground, might I add, and spoke verbatim, "Now, would you be a dear and help paint my claws? Apparently I need to prove to that ditzy demon everyone calls "the king of hell" that I am not afraid of such puny little luxuries"

Your mouth moved once, without saying anything and then it moved again. You were basically looking at him like he'd grown seven heads.

Alastor's grin remained, "Chop chop now, my dear. My time is quite precious."

You nodded, unsure of what to do next.

"W-what color would you like for your claws to be painted, Alastor? " you spoke, trying to control your trembling, as you showed him your collection.

The demon hummed and chose a black nail polish. You took it from his hands and started painting his claws. If someone told you that one day you would be giving the radio demon a manicure, you'd have laughed at their face.

And look at you now, on the ground with the radio demon, painting his claws.

You expected him to be fussy with all this but he was surprisingly quite relaxed. He let you paint his claws with utmost sincerity and did not utter a word, the only sound coming from him being the eerie static.

This was quite unnatural of him. Not talking at all, that is. He is quite chatty almost all the time. You had to admit, it was nice to see this side of him.

You were so engrossed in your work that you did not notice that Alastor had asked you something.

"Sorry...can you repeat that again, please?"

Alastor reiterated, " Oh I just took notice of the color you chose to paint your nails."

You chuckled, "Ah well, I was inspired by the way your claws look naturally! They shine oh so wonderfully in the light. Red really suits you, you know."

He said nothing, except a hum and you resumed your work.

After the end of the little self-care day you'd arranged, you could see everyone look quite happy and relaxed. You smiled. You felt that you had accomplished something great and contributed to the smooth running of this establishment.

While you were feeling satisfied with yourself, you heard a pop behind you and there stood Alastor, with his newly painted claws.

"Hi! Do you like how it looks?" you asked.

"It is wonderful, my dear. I quite like the color. Thank you for indulging me," he replied, putting his hand on your shoulder.

Your face turned red under his gaze as you quickly looked away, "You know me, always up for helping my friends! Well, you must be busy. Let me not hold you up for long, byeeeee." Saying this, you rushed out of the lobby, away from his sight.

Alastor's mind lingered on one little thing you said.

"Friend...," he wondered loudly. He quite liked the sound of that.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to reply to this. I hope you enjoy it!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #request

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hanasnx · 3 months

Note

bruce trying to explain to dick and jason that the young woman they saw in the manor is his 19 yo situationship !!

PART ONE ✩ PART TWO MINORS DNI 18+

BRUCE WAYNE cuffs his last link, and straightens out the sleeve of his dress shirt.

"I'm not sneaking around." JASON TODD insists, as if it should be obvious and he's disgusted Bruce would imply such a thing. A resentful smile replaces it as he claps a harsh hand on the back of DICK GRAYSON. "Birdie here was just helping me out, he told me you'd be gone by now. Didn't know you kept my copy." He raises the book into view and wiggles it.

"Of course, I would. It has all your annotations." Bruce replies calmly, and Jason's expression drops subtly. Bruce approaches you and adjusts the blanket you held so you'd be more covered up. "Why don't you go freshen up? The car's waiting." Your cheeks heat even more than before, you're sure he can see the color bloom on them and spread to your forehead. He's not the least bit interested in your nightgown that the boys commented on, instead keeping warm and rough hands on your shoulders protectively.

"Hold on a sec', who is this?" Jason has the need to be combative, especially after the flash of vulnerability he displayed. He gestures to you with the book. "Getting younger every year, aren't they, Bruce?" A wolfish grin spreads onto his lips, his canines glinting in the firelight and you frown at his rude implications, talking about you like you're not even there.

"She's my date for tonight." Bruce replies coolly, and you glance between them, puzzled over how he keeps such a level head around someone intent to get under his skin. You were alone five minutes with Jason and he'd managed to annoy you. Bruce somehow senses your unease, and meets your gaze, a soft glow in his eyes.

"Yeah, Bruce, I'm with Jason here. She looks younger than us." Dick has joined in on the conversation that apparently does not include you. "Are you sure that's the kind of statement you wanna make?"

"This conversation is over." A harder tone takes root within Bruce's voice as he commands, and you've had enough.

"Hello? Why are you all talking like I'm not here?" you demand, looking between their expressions of varying shock. "I'm the Ice Princess of Gotham, goddamnit, I won't be ignored!"

A snicker breaks out from Jason, who pats Dick's arm with the back of his hand. "Damn, the kindergartner's got a mouth on her." Dick does not engage in the banter, batting Jason's hand away with a scolding, "Jason."

"I'm tired of this!" you declare, and bunch up the blanket, rolling it up and tearing at it with your claws before throwing it to the ground. "I hope you have fun going to whatever-it-is by your-self, Bruce. I'm going to spend my time with people more civilized." you hiss, proudly sticking your nose in the air as you go to the exit.

"Tell 'em, baby! You go, girl!" Jason jeers after you, "A little more ass next time, that nightgown's too long."

Dick has the urge to shove Jason into the fire, but now that they're adults it's not as feasible as when they grew up around each other. "You're a piece of shit, you know that?" he tells him, but it's more or less tired.

Jason side-eyes him with a shrug. "I knew she couldn't handle it. I'm a tough pill to swallow, and a little princess like that needed some humbling."

"Who says? Jesus, Jason, you think everyone needs to be taken down a peg."

"So, Bruce, what were you celebrating tonight? Her sweet sixteen?" That grin stretches back onto Jason's countenance as he interrogates his former mentor. "Finally sick of pussy your age?"

"She was a distraction." Bruce answers, passing through the two boys. All of the polite inhibition from before is lowered, the playboy veil gone now that you've left the room. All that's left now is Batman, and he opens the window. Dick and Jason's eye follow his back as the cold night air hits them. "Penguin and Batman are at odds, and if Bruce Wayne is the center of controversy, the tabloids don't even notice the dealings of a vigilante." He watches you enter a cab in a huff, your longcoat thrown over your nightgown and heels, and drive off. He turns to Jason, and tips his head toward the open window. "I'm assuming this is how you got in, so out you go."

"This is the fourth story, Bruce."

"So you'll have no trouble."

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d1xonss · 2 months

Note

HEY ASHHH!!! hope youre doing amazing HOW ABOUT SARCASTIC READER (tony stark kinda personality😝😝) WITH DARYL AAGHH IT WOULD BE SO COOL like readers always so careless

A Friend

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 4

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.5k

AN ~ Hiii! Thank you for this request, I love the idea! I think any kind of sarcastic character paired with Daryl is just perfect. I’m not super confident on how this one came out but I tried to just work with it lol. Hope you enjoy!

You felt the hot sun beating down onto your skin the longer you stood outside, causing you to have to constantly wipe your forehead every few minutes to get rid of the sweat that pooled there. Your arms continued to burn with how many walkers you kept having to stab on the outsides of the fences, their arms trying to come through the openings to claw at you. You had the privilege and the honor of taking on this job today as Rick instructed, while his happy ass stayed inside and did a count of all the weapons and bullets we had. Making checklists if you will while you were stuck out here working your ass off.

Over the course of a few months, you had all been able to live peacefully inside this prison now without the Governor trying to kill everyone twenty four seven. It was relieving, but the problem you all seemed to have to deal with now were all the walkers built up along the fences, attempting to push their way in. No one knew what exactly caused this to be such a problem, maybe the loudness that everyone provided now with how many of you lived on the other sides of the gates. But it had become a pain to deal with to say the least.

You gritted your teeth as you took your weapon to stab another through the skull, moving down to the one below it, and then the one below the next, trying to take them out as fast as possible. Though suddenly you felt a cold pair of hands grasp onto your wrist, your eyes snapping up to see one from the left had a death grip on you. Literally. You yanked your arm back the moment it registered in your head, taking the blade and stabbing it through the eye, seeing its blood go everywhere.

You huffed out a harsh breath, “Fucker.” you muttered to yourself as you shook out your hand, stepping away from them for a moment to take a small break.

You reached down for your water bottle that you had placed off to the side, raising it up to your mouth to take a drink, feeling the coolness glide down your throat effortlessly. It wasn’t nearly enough to cool you down completely, but it was still better than nothing.

Your eyes then drifted around to the many people outside the prison walls, working, eating, talking with one another. It was nice to see the larger community you had now when it was once just a small and tight knit group. Everything was expanding and growing, and you liked the look of it. But then your gaze trailed off to the left, and you really liked the look of that instead.

Daryl was hunched over the side of his bike as he tinkered with it, using a variety of tools and cursing under his breath sometimes when he couldn’t get it just right. Though that wasn’t the only thing you were focusing on. The way his arms flexed beautifully with every tug and pull he seemed to do, it was causing you to feel even hotter than you were before if that were even possible. And the sweat glistening on his skin while he worked, you could’ve sworn you were drooling a little. God he was hot.

Blinking rapidly, you managed to snap yourself out of it as you turned away before he could notice you staring, looking down towards the ground for a moment to compose yourself. Lord only knows there was just something about that man that you weren't able to resist, but the downside about that was, you knew he hardly even noticed or felt the same. The two of you had never really been the closest, in fact you barely even talked at all for the most part. He was more of a loner type, preferring to be on his own than socialize with other people. But hey, you can’t blame a girl for hoping. You then just put all your attention back to killing the remaining walkers outside the fence, wanting to get it done as fast as possible.

But you found you only lasted about another hour before you were completely over it, needing something else to do to pass the time but also make yourself useful. You found yourself wandering back towards the building as a few other members took over for you at the fence, lingering near the garages before your eyes suddenly spotted some fishing rods. You remembered how Glenn brought those back recently with the intention to use them at a lake just a few miles from here, in hopes of catching other types of food besides deer and squirrel.

You only saw the opportunity for a split second before you just decided to take it. After all it was something to do, and something that wouldn’t want to make you die while doing. You practically skipped over to the supplies laid out, grabbing the two fishing poles and the tacklebox filled with some bait, before heading back towards the gate so the person on watch could let you out.

The walk down towards the large lake was a breeze, giving you an actual opportunity to clear your head for a moment as you could finally get away from the constant snarls of the walkers. You could hardly even step outside anymore before the sound was already ringing in your ears. But out here it was peaceful, calm, and approaching the lake even further, seeing a wooden dock coming into view, it felt even more so.

You stepped out onto the wooden platform and instantly got to work, placing some bait on the hook, before casting the line out into the water, pulling at it a little every once and a while to get the fake fish to move around. You sat in silence for the longest time now, it then suddenly hit you all at once how boring this was to do alone with no one else to keep you company. How there wasn’t a single sound to be heard or even anything interesting to look at…nothing. A sigh then passed your lips as you held the rod loosely in one hand while resting your chin in the other, the silence now growing even more so.

That is until you heard a distinct noise. Footsteps approaching you from behind, heavy ones too, marching against the dock pretty loudly as they inched closer to you. Your eyes then peered over your shoulder, trying to not show the shock you felt when you saw it was Daryl coming up to you, crossbow in hand and a typical serious look on his face.

“The hell you doin?” he asked once he was close enough, eyeing the supplies that surrounded your figure, before his gaze returned to you.

Your brows furrowed. Was he serious?

“Oh you know, just…skydiving.” you said with a shrug, your tone coming out monotone and serious as your eyes squinted up towards him because of the bright sun behind his head.

He scoffed to himself at your sarcastic answer, his permanent scowl intensifying as he didn't open his mouth to speak again, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m fishing-”

“I know that girl.” he cut you off, “I mean why the hell did ya come out here alone in the middle of the damn day?” he spat, literally. With the way he spoke so harshly he accidentally spit on your skin as he hovered above you.

You blinked a few times in slight disgust, “It’s a free country sprinkles,” you commented dryly as you wiped your cheeks, “And anyway, I needed to get away from all the constant noise back there. Didn’t think it would be that big of an issue.” you informed with widened eyes.

His expression continued to remain neutral as he nearly glared down towards you in almost disbelief. Was it because you came out here alone? Because you talked back to him? Or because you pointed out the literal shower coming out of his mouth, you weren’t completely sure. But he didn’t seem to want to say another word.

“Okay…” you trailed off awkwardly as you turned back around to face the water, preparing to just ignore his presence now until he decided to go away. He always did with interactions like this. You would know that better than anyone.

Though this whole interaction confused you slightly. He never seemed to care when you, or anyone else for that matter, went off on their own like this, so why the hell was this situation any different? Maybe he was on his man period or something, who knows. But still, besides the spitting, you couldn’t help but shake how hot he still looked in the sunlight. A part of you almost wished that he would stay.

But after a few lingering minutes, you still felt his hovering presence behind you as he continued to say nothing, yet he continued to stand behind you firmly in place. The whole thing was weird and was honestly starting to make you a little uncomfortable, just wanting to know what was going on in his head.

So you glanced back up at him, “Okay, either leave or come sit down.” you said bluntly, “Your stare is making me itchy.”

He stood there for only a moment or two longer, clearly debating in his head, before moving closer towards the edge where you sat and took a seat for himself with a sigh. His actions honestly surprised you, almost expecting him to just walk away with some kind of grumble under his breath. But it was safe to say he threw you off guard a little bit. That, and he managed to not say something assholey.

“Don’t want yer dumbass somehow gettin yerself killed out here.”

Ah. Never mind.

Your eyes narrowed towards him as you looked at the side of his face, “You think I can’t handle myself or something?”

“I know ya can’t.” he replied without missing a beat.

You scoffed to yourself, “Oh you better watch yourself, I’ll make you eat those words. I could take your ass down if I really wanted to.”

Now it was his turn to scoff as he truly didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, “Alright…”

Rolling your eyes at his response, you reached around behind you to pull out the other fishing rod and held it out to him, “Make yourself useful at least.” you said with a pointed glance.

He eyed the thing in your hand for a long moment, making you think for a moment that he wasn’t even going to try. But again, he seemed to surprise you. He snatched it out of your grasp with a small huff, turning to put some bait on the hook just as you did before throwing the line out onto the lake, a bored expression written on his face.

Well this should be fun.

For a while, you two only sat in complete silence, but it wasn’t one that was uncomfortable. In fact you didn’t mind it in the slightest. He was out here keeping an eye on you, helping you bring something back to the community and it was not something you would be complaining about anytime soon. He sat fairly close to you to the point where you could briefly smell the lingering scent of cigarettes on his clothes. You felt that anyone else would be slightly bothered by the smell, but in all honesty, you loved it.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before Daryl began to shift uncomfortably where he sat, his movements bringing your attention to him. He looked a little stiff, almost uncomfortable as his posture was a little rough around the edges.

“You alright there?” you asked with a raised brow.

He groaned a little as he straightened up, “My back’s fuckin killin me…” he huffed as he continued to squirm a little bit now.

Amusement crossed your features once he said that, “Really? Damn, how old are you?”

His face however was far from amused as he looked back at you with some kind of pointed look, narrowing ever so slightly that caused you to back off. “...Tough crowd…” you muttered while turning your attention back to the lake.

You could briefly see out of the corner of your vision, his eyes were still on you as he let out somewhat of a loud and lingering sigh. “Forty three.” he answered almost regrettably.

It was obvious you were surprised, slowly turning back to face him, glancing over his features before you let out a small, “huh.”

His eyes rolled, “Yeah, go ahead and say whatever, I can feel it comin.” he spoke bitterly as he tugged a little on his pole again.

You laughed a little to yourself, “Calm down, I wasn’t going to say anything bad.”

“Alright…sure.” he spoke again, clearly not believing it as he didn’t look at you again.

“I was actually going to say you don’t look it…so…” you trailed off, your words far from a lie at what first popped into your head. It was honestly hard to believe, thinking to yourself that he looked like he was at least in his mid thirties.

But those words took him a little off guard, looking back towards you to see if you were actually telling the truth, before letting his guard down a little as he felt a little warmth in his chest, “Oh…thanks…I guess.”

You nodded sincerely, “You’re welcome…grandpa.”

The sound surprised you. It even surprised him. But Daryl couldn’t help the sudden laugh he let out at your little jab, covering his mouth as he chuckled to himself in surprise that you said that so effortlessly. Even he had to admit, it was a good one.

You even smiled a little to yourself at the unexpected reaction, seeing him calm down a little as he spoke next, “Man…I guess I walked into that one, I’ll give ya that…”

You dipped your head as you did a little bow from where you sat, “Oh thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week.”

He chuckled quietly again at your sarcastic attitude, wondering to himself for a moment why he hadn’t spent this kind of time with you before. You were both in the same group for a good amount of time, nearly the whole time, and yet neither of you never really sought each other out. The two of you just never had gotten to know one another that well he assumed. But regardless, he supposed it was nice to do it now. Better late than never.

“Why…why haven’t we done this kinda stuff before?” he found himself asking out loud, just a slip of his tongue as he didn’t exactly mean to voice his thoughts like that to you. Though he almost couldn’t help it as he seemed to want to know your point of view.

But nonetheless you responded. “Cause you’re always too busy with bingo.”

He found himself laughing again, hearing you join in after a moment as your quick comebacks seemed to throw him off yet again, “Alright, alright, enough of that shit. Yer gonna make me feel ancient if ya keep it up.”

You laughed again with a shake of your head, “Sorry…but honestly…you kind of intimidate me.”

His brows furrowed a little in confusion, thinking to himself that you of all people wouldn’t have been intimidated in the slightest. Especially because of how long you knew him. “...Really?”

Your gaze ducked a little, “What? You see yourself as some big teddy bear or something, you’re not exactly Mr. Rogers.”

Daryl couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on his face at the comparison, nodding along as if you had a point, “Fair. Just…didn’t think ya saw me like that.”

“Well, if it helps…I don’t anymore. It’s nice to see you laugh…you know, showing some human emotion.”

The small smile he had still hung on his face as he looked at you, nodding again towards you, “It’s nice hearin ya laugh too.” he commented a bit quietly.

You smiled in return, not saying anything else as you were left completely content at where this ended up. You already liked looking at him, that was a given, but you also found yourself liking to see this other side to him as well. The side where he could actually let loose for once instead of putting up this whole tough guy act. And though you didn’t hear him admit it out loud, you knew he liked it too.

Though after only a few minutes of comfortable silence that fell over the two of you, he spoke up again as he squinted his eyes up at the sun, “Damn it’s hot out here.” he commented casually.

You on the other hand practically lit up at the opportunity that was given to you, staying quiet for a moment as you only nodded in agreement to his statement. He thought you couldn’t handle yourself against him? Not being able to catch him off guard? Challenge accepted.

Your eyes trailed down to the water just in front of you, leaning in a bit as you pretend to look at something below the surface, “Hey, do you see that?” you asked as you pointed.

His eyes looked toward you, before leaning down a bit as well to try and make out where you were gesturing to, “Huh? Where?”

“Right there.” you pointed again.

He felt a little stupid as he saw nothing, squinting his eyes more as he leaned a bit closer, “...Where?”

“It’s right…” you trailed off as your other hand moved up to his back, “There!” you said as you gently shoved him into the water, hearing him gasp before he fell face first into the lake with a splash. His reaction alone caused you to quite literally fall over laughing, hugging your sides as you giggled uncontrollably.

He then came back up with a breath, looking at you with a pointed glare as he was now completely soaked, “What the hell’s wrong with ya?” he asked angrily as he shook his head a little for the water that surely got in his ears.

You laughed even harder than before, “You said it was hot.” you pointed out as you laughed again to yourself, “Plus, I just made you eat your words.” you spoke cockily, referring to what he claimed earlier.

He stayed in place for a long moment absolutely dumbfounded, but then again he wasn’t planning on just letting you off the hook like that. He was absolutely drenched and pissed.

You began to notice the serious look he had on his face and you quickly calmed down, “Hey, I’m sorry, it was a joke.” you said as you leaned down a bit lower and reached out to him, “Here.” you offered to help him back up.

The man didn’t even need to think. No hesitation whatsoever.

He quickly took your hand and pulled you into the water right along with him, hearing your small scream before you fell clumsily into the water. He chuckled to himself as he backed up, seeing your head pop back up almost instantly with shock written all over your features. But then again, you and him both knew you deserved it a little.

“You asshole!” you yelled playfully as you sent a splash toward his face.

“Oh, I’m the asshole?” he yelled back as he sent a splash back towards you, “You started this girl.” he chuckled as he kept pushing the water towards you.

That only caused the two of you to linger and splash each other in the water for quite a long time, neither of you even caring about the amount of time passing by. You were having a good time, playing around in the lake felt incredible on such a hot day like today. And neither of you could deny that each other's company, that was pretty nice too. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had laughed this hard, the situation alone causing you to be taken aback for a moment that Daryl was the one to bring out that side of you again. But it was refreshing, along with the cool water the two of you swam in for a few hours.

Though as the hour grew late and your fingers were starting to get pruney, you both collectively decided to get out and back up to the surface, ringing out your clothes all the while as you prepared for the walk back to the prison.

“No luck with the fishin, huh?” Daryl asked as he shook his head a little, the water droplets from his hair landing on you with how close the two of you were.

You sighed a little as you glanced back at the supplies you brought, “Guess not.” you commented, “But…I do think I found myself a new fishing buddy.” you said as you glanced back at him with a smile.

He looked at you for a moment before scoffing dismissively, “We ain’t no fishin buddies, that shit’s stupid.” he said with a chuckle as he moved around you to begin to gather up the stuff on the dock.

Your mouth dropped in offense, “Oh come on, it would be fun, grandpa’s love fishing.” you teased him as you watched him gather up all the supplies in his arms.

“Stop.” he said dryly as he brushed past you, beginning to walk back towards the prison.

You sighed dramatically, “Well at least bring out the joke book and humor me, it’s going to be a long walk back.”

“I swear to God, girl…” he grumbled a little at your teasing. But as much as he didn’t want you to see it, there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at your words. And maybe a little amusement in his eyes too. Perhaps this whole thing was just the start…maybe he had finally found someone he could laugh and joke with. Someone he could call a friend.

~ Thanks for reading! (also, i am working on a part two for older, it’s just taking me some time. but i promise it’s on the way;))

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lyraelizabethfay · 6 months

Note

hii ^^ since you're taking Vanessa requests could you do Vanessa and reader who's really introverted and shy? like reader always tries to avoid eye contact and all 😭?

im sorry if that was a little hard to read but yeah feel free to ignore if you dont want to do it!

Please look at me.

Vanessa Shelly x Reader

Summary: Your extremely shy and have an obvious crush on the blonde police officer, maybe once she makes a move you’ll gain some confidence

Warnings: N/A

Word count: 918

A/N: HII lovely! Thank you for this request I absolutely loved writing this, apologise for this being later than I intended but school was busy, it’s also a little on the shorter side so I hope you don’t mind. Enjoy<3

You sat in the office bored, you longed for the time Vanessa would show up to spend time with you, not that you’d even be able to talk to her I mean the only words you e ever managed to speak to her was ‘Hi’ and ‘Y/N’. Most of the time it was a simple nod or a quick smile you’d give her before looking away shyly rubbing your arm. You longed for the moment you would be able to talk to her, hug her, kiss her. To say the least you had a HUGE crush on her, and you wanted to do something about it but couldn’t.

As you sat watching the monster screen you saw a car pull up just to the side, the vehicle almost staying out of view from the security camera hanging over the entrance door. Standing up quickly with such excitement that you flung open the office door and ran for the entrance, stopping suddenly in your tracks. The jingle of keys. Keys? Vanessa doesn’t have keys but you didn’t have much time to think before you had an Abby running straight for you.

‘Y/N!!!’ She squealed with delight, as you opened your arms bringing her in for a big hug. You look up to see your older brother Mike just closing the door, it must’ve been a double shift with him, had you forgotten?. You looked from Abby who was still giving you a big hug and giggling to Mike, back to Abby, and then back to Mike again mouthing the words ‘what is she doing here?’

Mike took a step forward as your little sister jumped out of your arms, saying something of ‘be right back’ and ‘saying hi to friends’. ‘I couldn’t find a babysitter, Max isn’t answering the phone’ Mike shrug at you, you honestly couldn’t feel to guilty as the night dragged on a little even though it was 3:46Am and you knew you couldn’t actually afford a proper babysitter, that’s why once you were old enough you started working here with your older brother.

As the night dragged itself along you longed wished Vanessa would turn up, maybe she would maybe she wouldn’t?, again it wasn’t as if you could talk to her which you so desperately wanted to do that it was obvious. Abby was busy trying to play a claw machine as Freddy and Mike stood next to her, to say the least it didn’t look as if the animatronic and your brother liked each other very much but both you and Abby hand gotten along great with all of them, you having the closest bond with Foxy. FOXY! You could ask his opinion on how you could talk to Vanessa, he couldn’t exactly speak but the amount you talk about her on the nights she usually calls he could tell you liked her very much. You looked around for the animatronic and once you saw him near the front door you ran for him.

‘Foxy!’ You called as you skidded to a halt near him, your breath catches in your throat as you realised Vanessa had actually turned up, she was most likely talking to the fox animatronic. You snuck a glance up at her and noticed both her and foxy staring at you so you stared down at the floor, your cheeks heating up a tad. You tried your best to avoid eye contact with her but you so desperately wanted to be with her. But now? You felt your heart race and you stood in your place.

‘Y/N?, are you ok?’ She questioned looking at you up and down in your spot, all you could do was nod and let out a simple ‘mhm’, not wanting to move, hoping the ground would open up and swallow you then and there to save you from the embarrassment.

The entire place was silent until Mike had popped up, he probably left Abby with the other animatronics. ‘Hey Ness!’ He smiled approaching you and Vanessa, the ground shook a little as Foxy had walked away. Mike ruffled the top of your hair as you glanced at him. You were so deep in thought you hadn’t noticed the conversation, and mikes watch beeping 6Am. It was 6Am and you hadn’t even spoken to Vanessa!!. Mike walked away to go and grab Abby as she’d most likely fallen asleep on one of the animatronics.

‘I have to go, but it was nice seeing you again Y/N!’ She smiled, but before she left she stepped forward embracing you in her arms. ‘Maybe next time you look at me, huh?’ She smiled and gave you a small kiss on the cheek, before stepping back giving you a smile and walking to her car.

She hugged you, SHE LITERALLY HUGGED YOU!! You got so excited, even the small kiss on the cheek there was some interaction between you and there was a glimmer of hope that you’d gain more confidence next time, and even more hope there was a chance she’d like you back. You followed Mike who was carrying Abby in his arms out to both of your guys car, you waved bye to Mike as he strapped Abby in, getting into your own car. You watched as Vanessa’s car drove by as she honked at you not long followed after Mike’s. You’d probably go grab some breakfast before going back to to Mike, and that’s what you decided to do, extremely happy with how the shift went.

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #fnaf security breach #fnaf vanessa #vanessa afton #vanessa afton x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa x reader

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rodolfoparras · 6 months

Note

OOOOO I AGREE

like, yeah, mike is most definitely a stubborn guy

definitely a brat that is vehemently against submitting, at least at first, because he believes that it's his duty to take care and give, since it's all he's done his whole life

but a part of him really wants to submit, to finally have a break from everything and be taken care of, as much as his pride is against it!!!!

- 🌷

Thinking about Mike, who’s used to nip at peoples skin with his sharp words, standing his ground in every situation who thinks there’s no need for you to take care of him until you show him the opposite

Your hands are gentle as ever as they push him down onto the sheets, watching the surprised look on his face turn into one of intrigue.

There’s a smile on your face as you place the very first kiss on his neck, and you hear a shaky breath escape his lips before he utters something along the lines of “there’s no need for this”

But you ignore his words, kisses trailing down his chest, lips latching onto his sensitive numb, distinctively hearing him tell you to hurry up.

However you don’t listen to him, calloused fingers brushing over faded scars and birth marks that lay there while muttering compliments into his skin, how strong he is, how beautiful he is, what a wonderful person he is.

This time around his response doesn’t come in the form of words but rather something akin to a whine or a whimper dragged from the depth of his soul.

As you look up at him you see tears prickling his eyes, bottom lip wobbling before he manages to form some sort of response “please stop”

However there’s no real meaning to his words, just a man who’s afraid to fall apart right in front of you.

But you don’t stop muttering compliments into his skin as you slide two slicked up fingers inside of him, skilled digits brushing against his prostate til his body is quaking and stomach painted in his own release.

You don’t stop muttering compliments while pressing your lips against his, hips gently rocking into him, watching the way his head trashes side to side, hands clawing at the mattress, begging, pleading for you to let him cum again.

You don’t stop whispering compliments into his ear as the two of you take a moment to catch your breath, mind still running high but body spent.

With each word you say, with each round you go, he feels more and more afloat, mind safe and body comfortable.

The only sign that he’s aware of his surroundings is the sound of protest that escapes his lips as you slide your cock out of him.

However you’re quick to pull him in your embrace, instantly silencing his whimpers.

Soon the two of you will go and get cleaned up, a new day will come, Mike will return to being stubborn as ever, claiming there’s no need for you to take care of him but just for a moment, just this once Mike allows himself to bask in the feeling of being loved and cared for.

#lovely for u🌷#alec answers #Mike Schmidt #mike schmidt x male reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf x reader #dom male reader #top male reader #bottom male character #sub male character #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf movie #x male reader #male reader

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missblissy · 2 months

Note

Can you write an Alastor x reader where the reader tries to save him from Adam but ends up badly injured?

((Ofc course nonny! I apologize if I’m a little rusty and this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but!! I did get inspired by the last episode and decided to rewrite the scene with reader there too :’) I hope you enjoy!! This is more of a platonic stage of a relationship with Alastor, something where he cares for reader but not like… ya know… together yet 😂))

You already knew the plan, you knew your place in it, that being down on the ground with all your friends. In front of the hotel you stood, not far from the others. While Charlie and Vaggie watched with wide eyes, you felt a sliver of dread work its way into your mind. The shield that Alastor had created was holding… for now.

And you could see far above like a speck of glowing sand, Adam and his bright wings keeping him afloat. The sliver of dread was momentarily replaced with rage, anger, and possibly hatred. You had to shake it away though, as within a moment's notice Adam broke down the shield and the dread returned.

It wasn’t long before angels came flying down once again, with a newfound fury to destroy the demons who dared to stand against them. Luckily you at least knew a thing or two about dodging and weaving. Spending time in hell taught you enough to throw a few kicks, with the stab of an angelic weapon given to you before the battle.

You’d manage to take down a few angels, all while still keeping a seething eye on Adam. The closer he got to the hotel the more panic you felt, and more so for selfish reasons rather than selfless ones. And with Alastor’s shield down it was only a matter of time before the table would start turning. Purely out of your own instincts you turn tail from the battle out front and start racing up the hotel.

There were angels already swarming in like flies, and you did your best to avoid them. Despite that, one still caught you off guard and managed to slam you to the ground. A struggle ensued, wrestling on the ground with this vile heathen, to you at least.You’d let out a yelp and wriggle, arms flying and nails clawing into holy skin. With you elbow you jammed it into the angel’s face over and over until you could reach you weapon and go for their throat.

The bright glowing blood splashed onto you, golden, while slick it escaped the angel and stole its life in the process. You shoved the lifeless body off you and stumbled further up the hotel. You could hear the battle above, while bits of rumble crumbled and flung to the ground. The building gave a shake and shudder strong enough for you to slip on a step and reach for the railings.

Your heart leapt into your throat and threatened to burst any second. The panic was a terrible and familiar feeling. It was hard to say, or even admit, but dammit you cared for that stupid bastard up there in a way. Alastor certainly couldn’t stand a chance against Adam, you didn’t believe a word of his boasting earlier. Claiming that he could single handedly take care of Adam and keep him distracted.

No sinner, not even the radio demon could do such a thing you believed. He’d been gone for so long as well, who’s to say he hasn’t gotten rusty? Alastor was cocky, and arrogant, yet still you were racing up floor after floor to aid him in battle.

The hotel shook again and you had to put your hands out to catch yourself in the fall. You still shimmered with holy blood as droplets fell from you while racing the last few steps. Another good shake and rumble had you rushing and stumbling out of the door onto the rooftop.

A panicked expression came on your face, witnessing what was before you. Though Alastor seemed fine, causal even with a simple smile, you saw Adam trying evade the dark tenacles that manifested to and fro around him. Adam may have had a sneer on his face but he let out a mocking laugh, “Ha! You think you’re tough shit don’t you?” His golden eyes met yours in that second, and you started to take a step forward.

Alastor hadn’t even noticed, he just smiled and took another swing at Adam, “Tougher than you~!” He grinned with a twisted laugh. While Adam took a few attempts at striking Alastor, lurching forward with his bass ax, Alastor was too caught in the battle to see the split second decision that you made.

You ran forward with all your might, weapon in hand and death in your eyes. You hoped that with your speed you’d have caught Adam off guard, but it wasn’t enough. You were able to cut the distance and jab the angelic weapon into Adam’s side but not without him reaching around and back handing you away. You landed with a thud on the ground several feet away, ready to get back up, but Adam was quick enough to kick away your only weapon.

His ax cut down quickly on one of your arms, leaving it hanging by a thread before he grabbed you by the throat and used you as some meat shield. Your own blood gushed like a sprinkler and began to pool. All while you let out a curdling cry in pain.

To say Alastor was anything but enraged that you managed to make it up there was a mistake. His smile was still there regardless. But he froze if only to listen to Adam bicker. With his hand around your throat, the air was running out quickly in your lungs while you did everything you could to kick your feet at him.

“Come on you edge lord freak! Not gonna fight now that I got this neat little trick?” Adam’s smug grin was enough to test Alastor’s patience and reasoning. The grip on your neck only got tighter. Wriggling there you could do nothing but listen and watch… in fear. As Alastor only grinned and took a swing at Adam, taking you by surprise as well. You were mere inches away from being scathed by one of the tentacles as Adam prepared to use you to block it, but instead he was attacked by another seconds sooner from behind.

But it was enough of a hit to knock you from his hands, and you thudded to the floor. The two of them were back in some kind of battle locked tango as Adam swung and swung his ax and only missed Alastor as he mocked him, “You lack discipline, control!” Alastor laughed, his voice ringing in and out of your ears as you tried to fight back the pain and blood loss, “And worse! You’re sloppy!”

You couldn’t see, let alone hear much more other than the battle going on… You just needed to rest… just for a second. The back and forth bickering between the other two went fuzzy, along with the rest of the battle going on around. That’s when you felt… something... At least try and attempt to pull you to safety. It was the wrapping of a long singular black tentacle curling around your ankle, one that was coming from the shadows and away from the fight.

Even still, above it all, the ringing of battle, the throbbing of pain, the muffled bickering. You could hear the distance snap then a visceral cry of equal pain from an all to familiar voice. Perhaps it was the last bits of adrenaline and endorphins. Or it was your continuing unrelenting nature to never do as told, and always do as you wish instead. Even if it was every instinct in your body telling you otherwise, your eye snapped open and through the blood you could see Alastor becoming a corner like a caged animal with a wound all his own.

Something primal in you awoke, something that wasn’t fueled by hatred or even really fear, but rather more of a rage induced panic for someone cared for. The burn was enough to push you to your feet, leaping with all your might towards Adam. You managed to tackle him down, using your only good arm to wrestle him to the ground, fighting over his ax, “You little shit!” He barked at you, “You just don’t know when to quit don’t you?!?”

It was Alastor’s turn to bleed and watch, and more helpless than ever before. His ego tore in two behind a smile while fighting the instinct to turn tail and save his own skin. Guaranteeing your death. Or, risk what little left he could do to save you. And even more infuriating, his deal wouldn’t allow him to do more than what he wanted.

He gritted his teeth and choked on blood. Alastor smirk only got more bitter as he chuckled to himself and muttered a curse, reminding himself to chew you out later if you both made it out alive.

While you struggled on the ground with Adam, while his fist greeted your face, jaw and throat a few times, you’d claw and bite at him with the same force. If Alastor was going to act, he needed to act now. So he got to his feet, holding his arm over his blood oozing wound. However, in the other hand shadows began to take form. He closed the distance and let out a mocking laugh, “Don’t forget about me!” His arms swung back over his head, “You aren’t the only one experienced with an ax!” Alastor cackled as the long broad long handle of a felling ax formed from the shadows.

Alastor chopped down with all his strength, eyes turning to dials, the large red X growing on his forehead. He flung the ax down with memories of dismembering bodies, however here he only managed to clip Adam’s wing, far from the glory days of his serial killings. But Alastor still had a skill or two left from then as he used the same motion to knock Adam back like a baseball player hitting a home run.

With a thud and a yell Adam cursed out, forced apart and bleeding from his wing he let you go in the tussle between him and Alastor. In that split second you felt a new pair of hands grab you from behind. Everything felt like it started moving in slow motion to you. The air felt thick, and shadows grew larger from every source. Alastor grabbed you with one arm, bleeding out as equally as you but still keeping you secure by his side, and using the other arm to throw the felling ax like a tomahawk, missing Adam by a hair.

Shadows started creeping in around you, misting and closing in on you. The last thing you saw was Adam’s shit eating grin before darkness enveloped you as you escaped with Alastor. Wind whirled around you but you couldn’t see it, only feel the cool icy bricks of the sharp currents. Lightless like a feather one moment, then the next you felt gravity slam you back into the ground.

The air was smacked out of your lungs, dropped onto the ground you let out a yelp as the world returned. Rubble and ruins surrounded you, dust fell and rocks shambled to the cold hard floor. This… must be the basement of the hotel… You thought. You could still hear the battle above.

But you couldn’t forget how you got here, and who brought you. Guilt washed over you quickly, you spun your head around and saw Alastor propping himself up against a crumbling wall. His ears pinned back, his smile all broken and shaky but still holding true… And some little shadow minion of his was shoving his guts back in his torso and stitching him closed.

That’s when you remembered your own wounds. Your arm… Quickly with fear you looked down and were surprised to find it also being tended to by a little shadow puppet. Which, honestly, you couldn’t feel anything from the shoulder down at this point. So pain or detecting someone pulling the sinews back together wasn’t going to be noticed anyways. At least your arm wasn’t a total loss.

Quickly though, you began frantically, apologizing, “Alastor-.. I am so sorry- I… I-” You felt like a fool, but you also felt a little angry, “I’m sorry!” You said again, “But why did you think you could take Adam on by himself!?” The little flair of anger was gone as soon as it came. Being replaced by guilt once more you hung your head and stared away from your own wounds, someplace random, and repeat, “I’m sorry,” You just didn’t want him to become a causality….

You kept muttering and mumbling away, you even felt tears ready to escape but the quick and short, “Stop,” From the other hushed you up quickly. Out of fear at first, you didn’t look up, but the slow troubled pattern of heels clicking towards you was enough to lift your tired eyes.

Still bloody but not bleeding, and with a limped pain in his step, Alastor approached you, his smile tired and barely hanging on. To your surprise, at first all he said was, “Are you alright?” As he knelt down and gestured to your arm. You were ready to be scolded, and even chewed up and split out… But all Alastor seemed to care about at this moment was if you’d live to another day.

The little shadow had nearly finished sewing you together like a broken doll, repaired and ready to play again. It disappeared once its task was done, and just to test its work, you moved your arm, rolled your wrist and waved your fingers, “I’ve been worse,” You told him with a huff, and a sheepish smile.

“Good,” Was all he said, which, you’d be lying if the empty look in his eyes and his hollow smile didn’t unsettle you to some degree. You didn’t have much of a chance to get a better look, as he stood up while brushing the debris and loose hair out of your face, “Go to the others,” He told you, “And tell them what happened…” His shoot started tapping further away again.

When you looked up again his back was to you. He reached down to his staff snapped in two, you couldn’t see his face but you heard the heavy sigh, “What about you?” You asked, he was still injured, he couldn’t possibly be going off for another fight…? Your nerves where settled only slightly as he reassured you, “I need to find something to fix this,” He gestured to the broken staff, “I believe there is something left in my radio tower,” He explained.

You slowly got to your feet, a sigh, a huff, then a nod of your head, “Okay,” You said. You watched for a second more, turning to leave but not taking a step, looking over your shoulder at him. A sullen moment broke into the air, an unfamiliar sorrow. And he stopped in his steps too. Mimicking your actions, looking back until your eyes met. He shared a smile, one at least more true and strong enough to spread on your lips. A second more was spent there, until more earth shattering rumbles began and the moment was broken. Separating you two once again, leading down different paths away from each other.

#hazbin hotel #the queue tag!!#alastor #hazbin #x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin spoilers #hazbin fandom

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fettuccinealfred0 · 3 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 6

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 14.5k

(CW: SMUT 18+, vampire biting/blood drinking, unprotected p in v sex)

Summary:

“Fine, you want honesty?” Astarion's voice takes on a desperate, forlorn quality. “I ache for you down to my very soul. I feel as if my heart is clawing its way out of my chest and I’m powerless to stop it. Love is a sickness and you have infected me and for that, I despise you and I despise myself for ever being so weak.”

He sounds half like he’s accusing you and half like he’s exalting you.

“I have experienced the worst forms of torture and yet, this past week without you has made me wish my suffering had a tangible wound,” he continues. “My heart does not beat and yet I feel it flutter in my chest when you are near. I do not need to breathe and yet I feel as if I am suffocating when we are apart. You are stubborn and impudent and reckless. You are lovely and clever and kind, beneath it all. I fear I will spend the rest of my life trying to fall out of love with you.”

Trying to fall... out of love with you. Which means... he's currently in love with you.

Read on ao3 here.

You hardly ever see Astarion anymore. It feels as if you’re simply going through the motions of your life, trapped in a haze.

Obviously I haven’t been thinking clearly from the blood loss or I would have never let you touch me!

You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. It wasn’t even true.

In reality, you greedily took every scrap of affection that Astarion was willing to offer you. But he had been cutting at your heart so painfully and the only way you knew how to make it stop was to make him hurt, too.

You miss him.

You hadn’t noticed how Astarion had managed to become such a fixture in your life in such a short amount of time. You hadn’t realized how accustomed you had become to his presence until you were forced to feel its absence. It seems every corner of the manor is tainted by Astarion’s ghost.

You sit by yourself at meals, eating but not tasting. You stare at books in the library without really reading. You take yourself on walks in the garden that are meant to cheer you up but end up making you cry when you see how the moonflowers had been trimmed back for winter. The bush was almost unrecognizable. It felt like some disgusting metaphor for the state of your marriage, which Astarion had cut and brutalized into something hideous.

Halsin finds you that afternoon- crumpled in a heap on the ground, hands caked in dirt from where you had been digging the plant out by the root. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his warm arms and lets you sob into his shoulder, dampening his shirt until you run out of tears.

The comforting embrace of sleep does not offer any reprieve from your anguish, either. Without Astarion, sleep eludes you and you spend your time twisting and turning in the sheets, craving Astarion’s cool touch.

Even the bed in your room feels foreign to you. After spending so many nights together in Astarion’s, your room feels empty and lifeless. It’s yet another reminder of how suddenly Astarion had cast you aside. Another reminder that he didn’t need you- that he had found someone better, someone who wasn’t so desperate.

The days and nights blur together, endless and unrelenting. Time is determined to sweep you along in her current even if you’d rather drown.

Shadowheart forces you to at least rise out of bed and get dressed every day. You can tell she’s growing concerned about how little sleep you seem to be getting. The circles under your eyes are growing darker with every passing day.

About a week after your fight with Astarion, you find one of his shirts folded in between your chemises. When you look at Shadowheart inquisitively, she just shrugs her shoulders. You know this is her way of acknowledging that she has done this for you, that she has slipped you one of his shirts from the wash in an attempt to help you feel better.

When you’re alone that night, you lift the white muslin material to your nose and the sweet, familiar smell of bergamot and rosemary sends you into a tailspin. He has forever ruined those scents for you, they will forever be tied to him.

You clutch onto the fabric like a lifeline, holding it against your chest as if that will miraculously ease the aching in your heart. As you rub the soft material between your fingers, your thumb catches on a patch of raised thread at the hem of the shirt and you find small, evenly stitched letters lining the bottom of the shirt in pale red thread. It’s masterful work. Had Astarion embroidered this into his shirt himself?

You recall your wedding dress, with the shimmery gold embroidered flowers and how Astarion had seemed so concerned whether you liked it or not. Had that been his work, too?

It all terrifies you- to think you were in love with someone and to realize that you hardly knew them at all. And how well you thought you knew him, too... All your careful studying was for naught.

You finally focus on the words sewn into the shirt. Clearly, they must be important to him if he felt the need to sew them into his innermost layer of clothing.

Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums.

The words are beautiful and fill you with a deep melancholy.

Oh. Is that how Astarion saw you? A late season plum with no taste, the unwanted scraps given to the poor.

He had cast you aside because he felt he deserved better than some foolish girl with romantic dreams and clumsy hands. You were bland. You were desperate. He wanted someone experienced, someone with taste- a ripe, juicy pear that would satisfy any autumn picker.

Lamentable is poor Astarion, you sneer to yourself, for being content with a boring, easy wife who dared to love him.

The words are a second gaping wound to your already damaged heart. It feels as if they had cut down to your very bones. And still, you curl helplessly around the shirt in bed, desperate for sleep to claim you so that you could have a momentary reprieve from this suffering.

The more Astarion avoids you, the more your sadness begins to turn into a familiar anger.

Does he truly respect you so little that he would so callously remove himself from your life? Who is he to pretend these past few months meant nothing to him?

For when you were wrapped together at night, did he not caress you so softly like you always imagined a lover would? Did he not kiss you with the reverence of a man worshiping his deity?

Even Astarion is not that good of an actor.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can continue like this,” you whisper to Shadowheart one morning, when you hardly recognize your haggard, pained reflection in the mirror. It had not even been a fortnight since your fight and the prospect of living with this heartbreak much longer seems exhausting.

“You still haven’t even told me what the two of you are fighting about,” Shadowheart says, rolling her eyes. “Who can stay away from each other the longest? Which one of you loves the other more? There are never any winners in those types of games.”

“Astarion isn’t capable of love.” You repeat the words to her that have become your mantra, “You have to have a heart to be able to love.”

Shadowheart huffs out a laugh, “Please. I’m not stupid. Anyone with half a brain can tell he loves y-”

“Stop,” you interrupt.

You must remind yourself that she doesn’t know what he has said. Although Astarion’s words seem to repeat in a vicious loop in your mind, you didn’t dare speak them aloud. You were still too embarrassed by how cruelly he had thrown you aside, too ashamed of how desperately you still needed him.

She doesn’t know that her words are yet another reminder that even if at some point Astarion did hold some scrap of affection for you, he had grown tired of you since then.

“The Lord’s been miserable, too,” Shadowheart says, attempting to comfort you.

“He doesn’t get to be miserable. Not when he-” you cut yourself off. Not when he was the one who ripped the beating heart out of my chest and crushed it into dust. Not when he was the one to replace you.

“Well, Gale said the wine cellar has been decimated,” Shadowheart offers you a friendly smile, as if she’s just offered you up a salacious bit of gossip.

It just makes your skin crawl to know they’ve been talking about you behind your back- that her and Gale have been comparing notes about your and Astarion’s misery.

“Glad to know he’s been drinking himself stupid while I’ve been miserable,” you scoff.

“That’s not what I meant.” Shadowheart sighs in frustration. “Gods, you two are perfect for each other. You’re both prideful idiots.”

—------------

You nearly run over Astarion a couple days later as he trudges down the hallway with his shoulders hunched and a haunted look on his face. Other than Shadowheart’s report from Gale that Astarion had been drinking through his collection of expensive wines, you’re not sure what he’s been up to since your fight. He spends nearly all his time locked away in his study.

And admittedly, Astarion looks as bad as you feel when you see him. It’s a rather stark transformation for someone who normally takes so much pride in their appearance.

When was the last time he bathed? His beautiful curls are all askew, greasy and unwashed. And he’s obviously starving. His skin is pale and ashen, the dark circles under his eyes are too prominent. That lovely pink undertone to his skin that appears after he’s fed is missing. Gone are the days of pretty flushed cheeks as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

He told you that he didn’t want to drink from you anymore. Had yelled at you that he had found someone else, someone better, as he nearly chased you out of the room.

So then why did he look this miserable?

You’re unsure what to do, torn between reaching out to pull him into a hug and that anger burning in you that’s a little bit satisfied at his suffering.

You know Astarion can see the shock on your face. And after so long of dedicated study, you know his mind almost as well as your own and so you know that he’s probably interpreting your surprise as pity.

He growls at you, baring his fangs in warning as he shoves past you. The sound of his study door being slammed hangs heavy in the air while you stand frozen, skin still tingling where his shoulder had brushed against yours.

Your body still calls out to him, even now.

Your feet move seemingly of their own accord, taking you to the study. You try the doorknob, but it’s predictably locked, so you raise your hand to knock at the door. When Astarion doesn’t answer, you pull a pin out of your hair and wiggle it into the lock. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Get out!” He growls at you when the door swings open.

You think he might throw the book he’s holding at you. It makes you waver- this man who is so similar to you, who lashes out when he’s scared and feels small. It’s the same response you had that first morning after you were imprisoned, when Shadowheart had entered your room.

You wilt a bit under his gaze, his fiery red eyes looking at you with something akin to… hatred.

Ignoring the way your heart feels as if it is freezing inside your chest, you square your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intensity of his stare.

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You say and Astarion rolls his eyes in disgust.

“Oh, don’t act like a child,” he sneers back at you.

You cross your arms in the most unchildlike way you can manage and resist from stomping your foot on the ground in frustration.

“I am not the one who has been acting like a child here.”

“Gods, what do you want from me?” Astarion yells.

His response nearly makes you laugh. Since when has he ever cared what you wanted? He didn’t care when he forced you to marry him. He didn’t care when he rejected you right after you had opened up to him. Even now, as he asks you directly, you doubt he will truly listen to you.

No, Astarion is only capable of caring for himself. It doesn’t matter how many people he has to hurt to get what he wants.

But you watch as he deflates almost immediately, his anger turning into fatigue as his hands come up to massage at his temples like he’s got the worst headache in the world. When he speaks again, he just sounds like a broken man, “I told you that whatever was between us is done.”

“I want you to stop pretending like I don’t exist! I want you to be honest with me for once! I want-” You cut yourself off, chest heaving.

I want you.

The truth that you cannot ignore, the truth that doesn’t dissipate even in your darkest moments.

“You want honesty?” Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been honest with you!”

You bristle.

“You lied to me when we first met! You chased me down and threatened me and then didn't kill me. You run around all the time whispering in the shadows with strange people that don’t work here. You go on weird business trips and come back on the brink of death. You tell me you hate me and want me gone from your life and then mope around like I’m the one who broke your heart. Everything you do is a lie!”

“I never said that I hate you,” is all Astarion says in response.

“That’s the only thing you got out of everything I just said? That was like the least important detail!” You shout back at him, incredulous.

Of course, he continues to evade all the very real issues you have just mentioned. You decide that you will offer him one last chance to be honest.

“Tell me the truth,” you spit out through gritted teeth. “Or at least tell me to my face that you never want to see me again and I’ll be gone by morning.”

Please, you think, say the words. Then, you can be gone from this place and can somehow try to salvage a life without Astarion. But you cannot stay here any longer and suffer. You cannot bear to continue to live as a ghost. You cannot watch as he gives his happiness to another.

But you know Astarion. You know when you’ve caught him. There’s that momentary shock in his face before his jaw locks in frustration.

“You’re a nuisance,” he says, but his words don’t hold the usual fervor.

“I am,” you agree. “So why didn’t you just kill me the night we met? You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble.”

“It would have been a crime to take your beauty away from the world,” Astarion says, but the answer seems too rehearsed. You doubt you’re the first person to hear this line.

“No, I want a real reason!” You demand.

“What do you want me to say?” He cries out, palms slamming loudly against the desk. He’s nearly frantic as his red eyes bore into you- desperate, pleading. “That perhaps you reminded me of myself? That perhaps I am indeed very lonely and you’re the first interesting person I’ve met in years? And here I was, presented with this opportunity to have you. Only a fool would say no to that.”

“I’m a person, Astarion. I am not something that can be kept.”

“And you never let me forget it,” he says, chuckling darkly.

“Fine, you want honesty?” His voice takes on a desperate, forlorn quality. “I ache for you down to my very soul. I feel as if my heart is clawing its way out of my chest and I’m powerless to stop it. Love is a sickness and you have infected me and for that, I despise you and I despise myself for ever being so weak.”

He sounds half like he’s accusing you and half like he’s exalting you.

Trying to fall… out of love with you. Which means… he’s currently in love with you.

“You love me?” You ask in disbelief.

Although your heart is singing in your chest, chirping and trilling how it always does when Astarion grants you any affection, your mind is clouded by anger. You can tell by the shock on Astarion’s own face that he half-expected you to be placated by his words and did not anticipate that you would turn on him.

“Then what the fuck was the other night about?” You shout. “Because, remember, it was you who pushed me away. It was you who told me that you had found someone new and cast me aside like I was no better than the dirt under your boot. It was you who called me easy and shamed me for my desires.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Astarion crumples in on himself, head hanging in his hands. “And then there were all the times I took advantage of you in your compromised state. I’m sorry. There will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I am. You should hate me for what I’ve done to you.”

He’s practically on the verge of tears. And although Astarion deserves to suffer your wrath far longer, you rush to wrap him in your arms because you are weak and cannot bear to see him in pain. He sags into your embrace immediately.

“I should have never said that. I’m sorry, Astarion. I assure you, I was a very conscious, very willing participant in all our evenings together. You just- you vex me.” You huff out a frustrated breath. “You’re like a puzzle with pieces missing. And every time I think I’m starting to see the picture, someone comes along and messes it all up again. I feel as though I’m being driven to the point of madness.”

With your hands on his cheeks, you move his head from where it is tucked against your chest, forcing him to look into your eyes. You need him to hear what you are saying, to feel the words down to his very bones. “You must know I never meant it when I said that I wasn’t clear headed.”

“I just…” you take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. Astarion’s eyes are desperately searching your face. You cannot tell if he is more scared at the prospect that you are telling the truth or that you are lying.

You speak, gently tracing your thumb down Astarion’s sharp cheekbone. “It felt as if you had frozen my heart inside my chest and I needed you to stop talking, to stop reminding me that I don’t mean as much to you as you do to me. The only way I knew to do that was to make you hurt, too. But you must know I treasure every moment we spend together, every book we read, every night we share. Whenever you…” you trail off, a bit shy. “Touched me, I was painfully, blissfully aware of every moment. I asked for you to share yourself with me because I wanted you. I will always want you.”

“If anything, the blood loss just made it all the more exciting,” you place Astarion’s hand over your chest so he can feel the beating of your heart. “Had my heart racing nearly as fast as it is right now.”

Astarion breathes out a breathy, astonished laugh and you’re sure he can feel the way your heart stutters in response.

“You are my north star, Astarion,” you say with a soft smile on your face. “You are the gentle light that guides me home, that helps me remember myself in the dark.”

“You really mean that?” Astarion asks, looking up at you with adoration.

“I love you. Every beat of my heart is for you.”

And, in fact, perhaps you had loved him since the moment you first danced with him. Love and hate are very similar emotions, indeed.

Astarion’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, a wide smile on his lips. He’s radiant, like the stars in the night sky- something whose beauty could never be captured by something so mundane as oil on canvas, something who’s beauty could only ever be experienced.

“Are you going to be insufferable now that I’ve admitted that?” you ask and Astarion tips his head back to let out a loud laugh. It’s perhaps the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh.

“Absolutely, my love,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the side of your mouth. He continues peppering your face with kisses between each word as he says, “Completely and utterly insufferable.”

“I need you to promise me something.” You catch his face between your palms again so he is looking into your eyes. “If- if you still want this to work, if you still want me, I need you to promise that you’re going to be honest with me from now on. About everything.”

He frowns for a moment and you can see him thinking. Apparently, you had found the dealbreaker in his love.

“I swear on my life,” he finally says with a little smile.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re not technically alive.”

“It’s a figure of speech, darling.” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s a bit disappointed he didn’t get away with it. Damned lawyer. “I swear, full honesty from this point forward.”

“Thank you.”

“But I need you to promise me something in return,” Astarion says, turning serious.

“Anything,” you promise.

One of Astarion’s hands comes up to cup your own cheek and his cool skin sends a little shiver down your spine. “In the future, if you ever do decide you want us to be intimate again, we save my feeding until after. It’s important to me that you’re able to think clearly. That you’re able to say no.”

Okay, well, you hate that idea. Apparently he had also managed to find the one condition you were unwilling to agree to.

“I don’t want to agree to that because I like it when you drink from me. It’s… exhilarating.” There’s nothing quite so electrifying as the feeling of your lifeblood being pulled from your veins, knowing that it will be used to nourish Astarion’s own body. You attempt to negotiate, though you are sure Astarion will be unimpressed with your skills, “So, I propose an amendment- we check in with each other before we do anything? Just so I can assure you that I am a level-headed, very willing participant.”

“Those are terms I can agree to.”

Astarion’s finally pulls you down into a kiss. Your lips slide against each other’s and it tastes faintly salty, though you’re unsure if the tears belonged to you or Astarion.

“I love you,” you murmur against his mouth and he’s descending again, hungrier. Your hands move up to curl in his hair and Astarion has wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to straddle him on the chair.

It’s one of those toe-curling kisses that has you feel like your very soul is leaving your body, that has you feel like the very essence of your beings are singing together in harmony.

“Say it again,” he commands in a low rumble. And, oh, you like that low, commanding voice he gives you. You can feel your thighs tighten around Astarion, feel the way his hand claws at the fabric of your dress.

“I love you,” you say before your lips press against each other again. You let your tongue trace along one of his fangs, snagging just enough so that you can taste the bitter, metallic tang of blood. Astarion becomes ravenous as he licks into your mouth.

You kiss, over and over again, until you are satisfied that Astarion is assured just how willing and enthusiastic of a participant you truly are.

“I love you, too,” he breathes and you can feel how his lips curl up into a smile.

When you finally part from him long enough to see his face, he looks all wrong as you push his greasy curls off his forehead.

“You need a bath.” You wrinkle your nose and Astarion chuckles.

“You’ll join me?” He asks in a rich, deep voice as he gives you a devilish smile.

You stand up and hold out your hand to him, “Come, pretty boy, let me take care of you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you will,” he says and his arm wraps around you from behind so he can catch you, playfully nipping at your neck. You laugh as you detangle yourself from his arms.

The servants swarm to set up a bath in Astarion’s room and you watch in the corner with him, a bit embarrassed that all the servants know you will be bathing together.

When you are finally alone, you help Astarion out of his clothes first. He doesn’t really need help, but it’s nice to take care of him for once. A little shiver runs up his spine when your fingers ghost against his stomach as you help him pull off his shirt.

When he turns around to check the water, you see the huge scar on his back. It’s massive, spanning the entirety of his back. How have you never noticed this before? You had seen Astarion naked. Evidently, he had taken great care so far as to not let you see the scar. You can’t help but wonder why he had been hiding it from you and why he suddenly was allowing you to see it?

Your hands reach out to trace the patterns and Astarion jumps, but lets you continue. You’ve seen this pattern before, on the drawing you found in his study the day you broke in. And because Astarion cannot see his own reflection in a mirror, that must be the only way he knows what his scar looks like.

“How did you get this?” you ask, horrified by the pain he has suffered. You try to keep your fingers light against the jagged tissue, unsure of how sensitive the skin is.

You can see the wheels turning in his head and you know a lie is about to spew out of his mouth.

“Honest,” you make him promise.

He swallows hard and nods. “The man who turned me was cruel. This is a relic of that past. I don’t like to talk about it.”

And because you are trying to trust him, you respect him enough to not ask about the past he had just told you was too painful to bring up. Though, if he’s answering questions, you might as well try to get at least some new information out of him.

“And the trips?”

His words are careful when he speaks. Like he’s being honest, but not giving you the full truth. “Just business. Sometimes we go to dangerous areas. I take Karlach, Lae’zel, or Wyll with me for protection.”

You’re satisfied enough with that answer and thoroughly distracted when Astarion’s fingers begin to slowly undo the buttons down the back of your dress. Unfortunately, you still haven't been able to master those slippery little devils. Astarion seems content with taking his time on the task- letting his fingers trail teasingly along your spine and occasionally dropping soft kisses along your shoulder. It’s maddening.

Your corset somehow manages to take twice as long as the buttons on the dress. Astarion seems perfectly happy to let the bath water grow cold as he runs his fingers over every inch of the satiny ribbon that ties the garment to your body.

When you’re finally undressed, Astarion steps into the tub and settles back in the hot water, resting his head on the edge of the tub with a sigh.

It’s awkward- you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to position yourself in the large bathtub. Sitting in his lap seems too direct. But you need to make up your mind quickly. Even with the warm fire burning in the room and the steam rising from the hot water of the tub, your bare skin is growing cold the longer you take to decide.

After you step into the tub, you sit on the opposite side, facing Astarion. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you chew on your lip. You’re nervous- partially because you’re a bit new to showing so much skin around a man and partially because you aren’t sure how much you’re allowed to touch Astarion. You aren’t used to this level of physical intimacy. You had only seen Astarion’s body once before and you had been so caught up in the haze of how silky soft the skin of his cock had felt against your hand and how his eyes were screwed so tightly shut with pleasure that you hadn’t really gotten that good of a peak at what said cock actually looked like.

And that night had ended… poorly, to say the least.

“Gone shy, pet? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Astarion says with a cheeky smile.

You love him, your heart sings. He’s reverting back to that easy banter, trying to help make you more comfortable. Gently, Astarion tugs on your arm and guides you into his lap.

“See,” he leans his forehead against yours, “much better.”

“Much,” you agree, knocking your nose against his before you remind him, “you need blood.”

“Are you offering?”

“Always,” you tease. Astarion’s eyes are hungry as he watches you tilt your neck to the side for him.

“Devilish woman.” His eyes crackle dangerously, all crimson and fire. It’s a total contradiction to how softly his hand cradles the back of your head as he leans down to your neck.

He presses a long kiss to your skin. The simple act nearly brings tears to your eyes. For weeks, you had let Astarion drink from you. For weeks, he would kiss you so gently before he dug his teeth into your skin- an act of apology, an act of worship. An act of love.

So much had changed this evening. Your worldview completely shifted, yet again, as you grew accustomed to the idea that Astarion loved you. With every heartbeat, you are reminded- he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. And yet, that one little habit remained the same.

The soft cold of Astarion’s lips gives way to that familiar sting, to that chill that seeps down to your very bones. You fight to orient yourself for a moment, inhaling deeply to focus. The coldness fades. The familiar lick of desire burns bright within you.

Astarion’s cool tongue swirling against your skin does nothing to tamper the heat growing within you and the arm he has wrapped around your waist tightens, dragging you in even closer. You feel him everywhere and still, you need more- it’s not enough.

Too quickly, always too quickly, Astarion parts from the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving one last kiss on the hollow of your throat.

When you look at him, he’s got that gooey, drunk look in his eyes like he always does after he’s fed. The pinkish tint has returned to his cheeks and the tips of his ears now that he’s got some blood in his system and you feel a sense of pride bloom within you.

I did that, you think, that was me.

Astarion reaches his thumb out to swipe up a stripe of blood that must have been leftover from the bite mark on your neck, runny like blood always is when mixed with water. His pretty pink lips close around his thumb as he lewdly sucks it into his mouth. Your mind goes blank as you watch him, entranced.

“Delicious,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“I’m not too bland for you?” You ask, repeating his words from the fight back at him. You’re teasing him, mostly, but that jealous, insecure part of you deep down is looking for his reassurance. “I’m not the late autumn plum that you lament picking?”

“What are you talking about?” Astarion looks at you, brow furrowed in confusion. It takes him a moment before his expression clears and he laughs. He has the audacity to laugh at you. “That’s not what that poem’s about at all, darling. How did you even know about that? Is that why my shirt went missing?”

“That’s not… important… right now…” you say, feeling your face heat up. Astarion’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, tracing his thumb gently over your cheek bone.

“Do you want to know what that poem means?” He asks, in perhaps the quietest, shyest voice you’ve ever heard Astarion speak with. “For many years, I had nothing except my hunger. My own body didn’t even belong to me. What’s lamentable is someone who is content with that life, with living on scraps of rats and insects. The poem is a reminder to me that I had to keep fighting, a reminder that I refuse to be broken.”

Astarion leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You remind me so much of myself, little flower. Your will and your determination, even in a losing fight. That’s what drew me to you that night we first met. In the face of certain death, you couldn’t resist telling me I was wrong.”

You laugh. He’s right, of course- you do love telling people when they are wrong.

“In truth, your blood is the best I’ve ever had. I fear I have tasted perfection,” he says, letting his nose dip down to trace along your neck. You shiver, keenly aware of how your cunt is resting tantalizingly against one of Astarion’s thighs. All it would take is a little roll of your hips to provide some sweet relief.

But Astarion still needs a bath and your neck still stings a bit. You know from experience the stinging of the twin bites on your skin will last a while longer, so you distract yourself by wetting a hard bar of soap in your hands. You run the soap over Astarion, working it into a lather on his skin.

It’s an excuse to touch him. You know this. He knows this. Neither of you are complaining.

You take a moment to stroke along the muscles that run from his neck to his shoulders, chasing away some of the knots and sore spots that had developed after so many days hunched over a desk. Astarion lets out content little hums as you work, his eyes slowly falling shut.

You move to his arms, which he’s draped elegantly over the side of the tub as if in preparation for your work. Moving the soap, you trace along those beautiful, pale blue veins all the way down to the inside of his wrist. Bringing his hand to your mouth, you press a soft kiss to each of his fingertips before repeating the same pattern on his other arm.

When you wash his hair, Astarion practically melts into your hands. It reminds you of Tara how he purrs when you let your nails scratch gently against his scalp.

“Tilt your head back,” you instruct him. You let the water run through his white curls and wash the soap away.

When he comes back up, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment before you’re falling together. It’s one of those hungry kisses that leave you wanting more. All teeth and tongue crashing against one another. One of Astarion’s hands palms at your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tug on Astarion’s lower lip with your teeth and you feel the growl reverberating in his chest.

Astarion’s length is hard where it presses against your stomach. You move your hand under the water, aching to touch that satiny soft skin again. Astarion deftly catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his own.

You huff, frustrated. He always did this. It was as if he thought he didn’t deserve pleasure, too. Or thought you were inexperienced and incapable of giving it to him. You wanted to learn how to please him, desperately, but he was always batting your hands away.

“Are you truly so cruel you would deny your wife this simple pleasure?” You ask, trying your best to pout in that way that always makes Astarion cave and give you what you want.

“You’re dramatic,” Astarion brings your entwined fingers up to kiss the back of your hand. “And I’m not cruel. I just refuse to let the first time I have you be in a lukewarm bath. I intend to savor every moment and for that, I will need much more space.”

Astarion speaks in that husky, arrogant voice that sends a shock of electricity straight to your cunt and has you clenching around nothing.

You try to move a bit and end up banging one of your elbows painfully into the side of the tub. Okay, maybe he has a point. More space would be good. Even if you ache to feel him inside and don’t want to wait.

He helps you out of the tub and your legs are a bit shaky, which puts a self-satisfied smirk on Astarion’s face. He finishes towel drying his hair, curls messy and beautiful as the wet locks lay flat against his skin. His towel drapes around his shoulders and you use it to pull him down for a kiss, your tongues sliding against one another. You feel Astarion’s hands against the back of your thighs and he’s lifting you off your feet so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You’re keenly aware of how your cunt rubs against the thatch of hair at the end of his navel as he walks you over to the bed and gently sets you down on it.

Astarion kisses down your stomach and you know where he’s going. You cup your hand around his cheek, guiding his face up to look at you.

“Need you,” you practically whine. It’s annoying, how Astarion is able to turn you into this needy little child, how your very being is addicted to him.

“I know just what you need,” he gives you another kiss above your hip bone and you whine again.

“No.” You’re trying to pull him back up now, hands grabbing at his shoulders and arms, trying to settle his weight on top of you again. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Oh? How can I refuse when you beg so sweetly?” He has that sinful look on his face that makes you ravenous for him. “But you’ll have to wait,” Astarion says, moving to settle between your thighs. “You need to be ready so it won’t hurt. And besides, I’ve missed your taste. You won’t deny your husband that, will you?”

He probably has a point. You had barely been able to fully wrap your hand around his cock when you had touched him. And the most you had ever taken inside yourself was, what? Two of Astarion’s beautiful, dexterous fingers? And those already had you feeling stretched to a point where you thought you might shatter.

Astarion’s tongue swirls on your inner thigh, tracing over the faint bruise left from the last time he bit you. He blows cool air over your cunt that has you nearly jumping out of your skin. It forces you to be painfully aware of how wet you are. But Astarion quickly takes pity on you and his cool mouth presses a soft kiss against your cunt before his tongue is darting out, licking so wonderfully.

Gods, the miracles he can perform with his tongue are sacrilegious.

Astarion eats you out like his very life depends on it. And when he slowly slips one, and then two, and then three fingers into you, your worldview shrinks to red eyes looking up at you hungrily from between your thighs.

There’s that familiar warmth rising in your stomach as your trembling hands clutch onto Astarion’s damp hair like a lifeline. A distant part of you laughs about how his normally perfect curls will be a mess when his hair dries.

With Astarion’s lovely fingers curling inside you and his tongue dancing against your clit, you settle into the warmth that seeps into your bones.

"So good," you manage to pant out when his tongue moves in a particularly delicious way. You feel the coil tightening in your belly before it snaps, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you climax.

When you’ve finally started breathing normally again, Astarion crawls up your body like a fucking predator and you’re practically drooling over him. As he moves, his leg catches yours and he hooks your knee over his thigh, draaaging your leg up with his own.

You’ve never been this aroused in your life. You feel like putty in Astarion’s hands- his to mold and move and control how he wants you. And you know Astarion’s noticed the effect it’s had on you, too. You see that arrogant gleam in his eye that lets you know you are dangerously feeding into his already inflated ego.

And he knows what he’s doing. In this position, he’s opened up your cunt that much further and his own hard cock is pressed against your center. It’s wet- gods, it’s almost obscene how wet it is. And the way Astarion’s cool skin rubs against your most sensitive spots sends a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Astarion-” you manage to choke out. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I think I’m going to die.”

“Perish the thought, dearest, I’d never let that happen.” He says in that cocky, teasing tone that lets you know he’s enjoying this too much.

He stops moving and grips your chin with his hand. You mewl, letting him force you to look at him. His eyes have softened and his face is so open and loving that you think your heart might very well flutter out of your chest and settle inside Astarion’s own rib cage.

“You’re good?” He asks, voice gone soft with concern.

“So good,” you try to roll your hips against his, ignoring your confusion at his complete change in tone. But at this point, if you don’t have him inside you in the next minute, you think you might spontaneously combust.

“Not what I meant,” Astarion chuckles darkly, his grip on your chin tightening just a bit. “You’re clear headed? You promised me we’d check in.”

Oh, that’s right, the promise.

“All clear,” you say, tapping the side of your head, trying to ease his concerns with a bit of humor. It seems to work based on the gentle grin that tilts up one corner of his mouth. You focus on committing this moment to memory. “How are you?”

A look of shock passes over Astarion’s face for a moment, so quickly that a lesser trained eye might have missed it completely. It makes you wonder if you’re the first person that has ever bothered to ask Astarion if he’s okay.

“I’m going to remember this forever,” Astarion reassures, like he’s reading your mind. He gives you one more serious look. “Any point you want to stop, tell me and I will. No questions asked.”

How could this man exist? He seems unreal. Your guardian angel perched above you.

“Same goes for you,” you tell him, turning your head a bit. Astarion loosens his grip on your chin to allow for the motion and you press a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he leans down and kisses your lips, soft and sweet. “You ready?”

You nod and he shifts his weight onto one forearm so he can grab his cock with his hand. He runs the tip along the length of your cunt teasingly and oh, it feels wonderful against your wet folds. Slowly, he starts pushing into you.

You hiss at the initial sting and Astarion pauses immediately, just sitting with the tip of his cock inside you. He’s kissing all over your face, whispering about how ‘you’re doing so well,’ ‘you feel so good I can hardly stand it,’ and ‘think about how good we’re going to make each other feel, my love’ that has the part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise soaring. When you start to get used to the stretch, you nod again and Astarion presses in a bit further.

It takes what feels like a small eternity before he’s fully inside you. And oh, the stretch, the fullness has you feeling like you’re ready to shatter at any moment.

“Gods, your cunt is perfect. Like you were made for me,” Astarion says, through gritted teeth. It causes liquid fire to shoot through your veins and your cunt clenches around him. You think you actually manage to catch his brain short-circuiting as he lets out a strangled noise that’s a cross between a growl and a moan.

“Tight… s-so tight. And wet,” Astarion groans, his mouth nearly hanging open.

You feel a spark of pleasure deep within yourself over seeing this man- who acts so confident and above everyone- nearly disintegrate into a babbling mess from just the feel of your cunt around him.

And then, Astarion begins to move and it’s you who becomes a babbling mess. The pressure stings a bit at first, but it doesn’t take long for the sweet feeling of pleasure to overwhelm you completely.

His pace feels torturously slow, as if he’s determined to make you feel every wonderful inch moving in and out of you.

“More,” you plead, trying to move your own hips to speed up the rhythm. “Faster, please.”

Even when he picks up speed, it feels like he’s holding back.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, hooking one of your legs around his hips to urge him that much deeper inside you.

Astarion listens to you then, finally, and begins thrusting into you at a rhythm that has your mind spinning. His hand snakes down between your bodies, moving to trace tight circles over your clit.

You feel as if you are ascending to the heavens. It should be impossible to feel this good.

And you’re so close to the edge, so close to that precipice of pure bliss.

“So close, Star,” you manage to gasp out. “So good.”

“Let go, little flower,” he says. “Want to feel you.”

Your second orgasm is earth-shattering. The kind of orgasm that makes it feel as if your soul itself is fracturing like beautiful glass inside you. The kind that has you arching your back and digging your nails into Astarion’s skin as you desperately try to tether yourself to reality.

Astarion fucks you through it, rocking his hips into yours with a clinical precision that has stars dotting at the edges of your vision.

He slows for a moment and then stops, hard cock still nestled firmly inside you. You let out a pathetic whine that makes Astarion give an involuntary little buck of his hips. You chase after him with your own, but he rests more of his weight on top of you, effectively trapping you underneath him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight when you come. I need- I need a minute,” Astarion says, eyes screwed shut.

“Why?” you ask, pushing a lock of messy hair out of his face. It’s a good thing he can’t see himself in a mirror, he’d be distraught at the state of his hair. “What are you waiting for?”

“Need to- fuck, need this to last. Never want this to end.”

It sends your heart soaring- the fact that Astarion is so determined to try to make this moment last as long as possible. Perhaps, beneath all his layers of pretend smiles and barbed wire guarding his heart, he’s secretly a romantic.

“Doesn’t have to end,” you murmur, nails scratching lightly at his scalp in the way you know he likes. “We can do this forever.”

And then, the most glorious thing happens. Astarion whimpers.

It’s one of those involuntary sounds that worked its way up from the back of his throat. You think you could grow used to the surge of power you feel inside you at forcing Astarion to lose his carefully practiced control. You want him to whimper again.

You use your grip on his hair to move his face towards yours to kiss him and you speak against his mouth, “Let me take care of you for once.”

You feel his nose rub against yours as he nods and you grin wickedly in triumph, gently pushing him off you so he’s laying back on the bed. Astarion looks confused for a moment before you settle on his lap, moving to guide him back inside you. You’re still so sensitive after your last orgasm, you feel every wonderful ridge and vein of his cock inside you.

You lean down, biting his ear before you whisper, “You deserve to not have to do all the work for once.”

And then you move, rising and lowering yourself against his cock. This new angle has him hitting impossibly deeper, has him pressing against some secret, sponge-y spot that makes your toes curl every time he’s fully inside you.

So, this was what all the fuss was about. Why men waged wars and forsook religion. For what gods can compete with the way that Astarion moved inside you? And what cruel gods indeed if they forbade this act of your salvation. You felt as if you had been born anew atop Astarion’s cock.

You bite your lip, trying to dampen the barrage of noises that threaten to spill out of you.

“No,” Astarion nearly cries out, his thumb coming up to pull your lower lip out from between your teeth. “Need to- fuck, need to hear you.”

Oh, he’s desperate in the best way possible. You stop holding back- let out every gasp and moan and curse. Astarion’s hands come up to your breasts- kneading and squeezing them and pinching your nipples and he’s looking at you with such awe that you think you could tell him you were an angel sent from the heavens and he would believe you.

Your thighs are starting to burn when Astarion’s hand moves from your breasts to curl around your throat and you mewl at how perfectly his hand fits around your neck. His thumb traces gently over his bite mark from earlier, his eyes getting even more desperate and hungry, all fiery red like he’s going to consume you alive.

Astarion is not subtle about his obsession with the marks and bruises he leaves on your skin.

You think that animalistic, instinctual part of him is proud of the idea that everyone knows he was the one to give you those marks. And you have never tried to hide them, even if particularly nasty marks on the column of your throat sent Gale’s eyes skittering to look anywhere but you and caused Shadowheart to make snide comments about them as she helped you dress.

You toss your hair over your shoulder, displaying the bite even more proudly, still rolling your hips against his own.

Astarion uses his grip around your neck to pull you down against him and press his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. One of his fangs must catch on something because there’s that wonderful metallic taste of blood being shared between you two.

“Where?” He pants out against your lips.

And because you’re a little dizzy with the influx of new sensations, your brain can’t quite decipher what Astarion means. “Where what?”

“Where can I come, darling?”

Oh. Oh.

Although Astarion could have told you simply that the sky was blue in that husky voice and it would have caused your eyes to roll back in your head, those deliciously racy words out of his mouth have you practically turning into mush.

“Gods,” you breathe out. “Anywhere you want. Inside?”

Because the idea of being separated from him for even a moment seems unbearable. And that was the right answer based on the way Astarion’s hips start to buck into you with wild abandon.

You continue to move together, two inseparable bodies- unable to tell where one ends and the other begins. His cock pulses inside you before he lets out a strangled moan and you feel him come inside you.

Tired and spent, with aching thighs, you settle yourself on top of Astarion. You have laid your head on his chest many times and his lack of heartbeat will never get less foreign. Though, you do feel a sense of satisfaction that he’s also exhausted- panting beneath you and trying to catch his breath. Astarion’s cool chest feels wonderful against your flushed, sweaty skin.

“Where did an innocent thing like you even learn about this position?” Astarion asks and you can hear the delighted little teasing tone in his voice. “Here I was thinking I’d have all sorts of fun things to teach you.”

Despite the fact that Astarion cannot see your face, you roll your eyes. You know he thinks you naive and bashful because you are inexperienced.

“Married women whisper rather loudly if you know how to eavesdrop,” you tell him. “You can find out all sorts of salacious secrets- whose husband has a mistress or whose child might have been born a bit too early after the wedding. More interestingly, you learn all about what scandalous things happen in the bedroom between married couples. ‘Riding Saint George’ caused quite the uproar a few seasons ago.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Astarion laughs and you feel his chest rumbling underneath your cheek.

“And I know all sorts of things,” you defend yourself to Astarion. “Most other ‘prim’ and ‘proper’ ladies would have balked the moment your head went between their thighs.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see the extent of your knowledge. And fill in any gaps that might arise,” he says in a low, seductive voice that makes you keenly aware of the fact that his cock is still inside you.

Propping your head up on Astarion’s chest, you look at him, giggling a bit at the way his dark, sultry eyes contradict rather comedically with the mess that had become his hair. He’d need a small fortune’s worth of pomade to tame it.

“We probably should have saved the bath for after that, huh?” you grin, reaching up to brush some of the loose curls away from his forehead.

When Astarion laughs, you use that as the opportunity to slip off of him, hissing at the dull ache between your thighs and the feeling of how desperately you already miss him inside you.

Astarion gets up to find the towel that had somehow ended up thrown over the folding screen in the corner of the room as the two of you had desperately clawed at one another and stumbled over to the bed. Astarion wets the towel and returns, gently wiping it in between your legs.

You hiss. Astarion looks at you worried, like he just committed the greatest crime in the world by hurting you.

“Sensitive, s’all,” you explain and he returns to carefully wiping away any residue of your coupling.

Astarion’s arm wraps around your waist as he settles next to you on the bed. He has a book on his bedside table that you grab and read aloud. It’s wonderful how easily the two of you settle back into your old patterns. You read until your eyes start to grow heavy and you instead shift your focus your attention to studying Astarion’s beautiful face. His eyes close and he relaxes as you gently trace your fingers over his strong brow, down his lovely nose, over the curve of his jaw.

“Can you turn into a bat?” You ask, half on your way to sleep.

“Why would you possibly be wondering that after I’ve just given you the most memorable night of pleasure you’ve ever known?” Astarion asks, eyes opening to look at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

You giggle and poke him on the tip of his nose. He playfully catches your finger in his mouth and gives it a gentle bite.

“I don’t know. I always thought they were cute when I was a girl. And I think you’re cute now. And you’re a vampire. My mind just connected some dots.”

Astarion rolls his eyes, “I’m not cute, darling. Dashingly handsome or devilishly good-looking, maybe, but not cute.”

“I think it would be weirder if I called a bat dashingly handsome than if I called you cute,” you say, scrunching up your nose.

You had missed this- the easy back and forth that you always managed to find with Astarion. You had been so lonely without him, your best friend. Yet another reason why you love him is because he understands you innately, because the two of you have managed to dig your way so far under each other’s skins and find a home there.

“I’d rather you didn’t compare me to a bat at all,” Astarion says, still acting as if you have gravely offended him by daring to call him cute and like he doesn’t require your compliments as a basic necessity to survive. He lets out a sigh, as if you are greatly annoying him (you both know you are not) and finally answers your question. “And no, I can’t turn into one. As a general rule, I try to stay as far away from rodents as possible.”

Weird rule, you think.

“Pity, I’d bet you’d be cute. You’d probably be white, like one of those albino ones,” you tease, bringing your hand up to tug on his mess of white curls.

“I worry for your sanity, darling.”

You gasp, a big dramatic one that Astarion himself would be proud of. “Don’t tell me you just passed up an opportunity to make a joke about how you ‘fucked me stupid’ or something obscene like that.”

“I would never debase myself with such vulgarity.” He says in mock offense at your words before his lips twist up in a lecherous grin that you know means trouble. “Besides, it sounds so much better from your lips, my love.”

Astarion leans forward and kisses you on your vulgar mouth.

The two of you resume holding each other, wrapped in your little cocoon of love. But your mind is still elsewhere.

“I found one when I was younger, you know,” you break the silence.

Astarion hums. “One what?”

“A bat,” you remind him. “It was right after my mother died. The poor thing was injured. It had a broken wing and was just crawling helplessly on the ground. I brought it home with me, foolishly thinking I could heal it. When my father found it in my room that night, he made me watch while a servant killed it. He told me I shouldn’t be messing around with nature, that I was lucky it didn’t give me rabies.”

You shiver a bit at the memory of the bat’s tiny head caved in where your father had ordered a servant to take a shovel to the animal. You think of that poor man’s distraught face, how he had been unable to disobey if he wanted to keep his job, if he wished to be able to feed his family.

You continue speaking, “It felt like my father was telling me that caring about something doesn’t matter. But I disagree with that- I think we should try to help the things we love no matter what. Even if it is a stupid bat that might give you rabies.”

“I’d still love you. Foaming mouth and all,” Astarion smiles at you.

“Liar,” you say, poking his cheek.

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t say anything for a long time. You see him chewing on something in his mind but you give him time- you try to trust him to tell you when he is ready.

“You’re going to die some day,” his voice is grim when he speaks. “Unless…”

Well, that’s a bummer.

“Unless I’m a vampire,” you complete his train of thought.

And you can’t say the idea had never occurred to you. Especially as you had sat at Astarion’s bedside when he was injured.

At times, he had been thrashing and screaming so violently that he would reopen the wound on his abdomen. You had been frantic watching him like that. Shadowheart had to practically pry you away from him so that he didn’t accidentally injure you in his flailing.

You never speak of those memories with Astarion, no matter how deeply they haunt you. You know they would only serve to embarrass him, that he would only interpret your care as pity. You know this because you would think the same.

But as you sat and watched him, useless except for your blood, you had a long, long time to think about what would have happened if you were the one that was injured. Would Astarion have cared? Would he have sat at your bedside in anguish as you recovered?

No, you had realized. Because a wound like his would have left you dead.

“When I asked you if you’d ever want to be a vampire, you said you didn’t know if you would. That it would depend on the circumstances. Is that still true?” Astarion asks, searching your face for an answer you’re unsure you’re able to give.

Because it’s not that you don’t ever want to be a vampire. It’s just all too soon. You and Astarion had only been married for six months and you had just gotten back on solid ground after a very rocky two weeks.

And you know that you do want Astarion forever, but you also want to settle into this new life with him for a while longer. There was still so much he was hiding from you and you don’t want the memory of your turning to be tainted by doubts or hesitation. It should be a joyous occasion- the true union of your souls that you didn’t get at your wedding.

“I don’t know…” you trail off, a bit unsure of how to put your thoughts into words that will not hurt Astarion’s feelings. Instead, you choose to deflect, “Do you want to turn me? Is that why you’re asking this?”

“I can’t stand the thought of you being harmed. Of you dying.” Astarion laments, his eyes all blood red, reminding you of that monstrous gash in his side. “What a miserable existence that would be, not after I have known the ecstasy of being with you. Everything else just seems dull in comparison.”

And he’s right, the idea of a life without him seems hollow. Survivably, certainly, but lackluster. It reminds you of how Astarion can only see the gardens at night- still beautiful, still worth experiencing, but not nearly as vibrant or wonderful as you knew it could be.

“I know I want to be a vampire someday,” you say. “I dread the thought of growing older while you remain unchanged. I hate the idea of becoming a burden to you in my old age.”

“You could never be a burden. And that’s a long way off,” Astarion tries to reassure you.

Because for him, time isn’t running out. For him, time stretches and flows lazily like a river into the sea. And he had been like this for so long, had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he had been alive. You can’t even begin to help him conceptualize what you mean, but you try anyway.

“A long way off for me, but that’s nothing for you, Astarion. It will pass before you even notice.” You take a deep breath and try to communicate the thoughts that you yourself are not sure you fully understand. Interlacing your fingers with Astarion’s, you guide his hand to your mouth so you can press a kiss to the back of it. “I do want this, I want a life with you. Forever. I’m just- I’m not ready yet. Let me enjoy being alive a while longer. Let me choose when and how it happens.”

With a gentle smile, Astarion says, “Of course, my love. Just say when.”

—----------

Astarion hardly even lets you leave his bed the next few days. Not that you’re complaining about it. He separates himself only long enough to tell Gale to bring your meals to his room for the foreseeable future. Astarion’s very specific about how Gale is only supposed to knock and how under no circumstances are you to open that door.

From your spot in the bed, linen sheets pulled up over your chest in an attempt to protect your modesty, you think you overhear Gale saying, “Under no circumstances would I want to,” before he leaves.

The next couple of months are a blur of sitting in front of warm fireplaces and reading and you and Astarion wrapped together, his cool skin only intensifying the burning desire within you. With the warmth in your heart, you wouldn’t even be able to tell it’s the dead of winter. The weather outside is dreary and miserable and you don’t even notice because you and Astarion are too consumed in one another.

And touching. Always touching. Astarion seems unable to ever let you be out of his grasp, even if it was as simple as your feet being pressed against one another underneath the table at meals.

The best part about winter is the long nights which allow you to keep the curtains open that much longer without fear for Astarion’s safety. He relaxes in the darkness, comes alive like those silly moonflowers you planted for him. In the dark, he’s less restrained, more confident (if it was possible to describe Astarion as more confident).

You come to realize that Astarion doesn’t like the cold based on how he’s unable to resist warming his hands when he sees a fire and the pile of quilts he stacks on top of the two of you in bed before you sleep. You would wake up stifling if not for Astarion’s cool touch beneath the sheets.

It’s wonderful how easily the two of you balance each other- hot and cold, alive and dead, sun and moon.

And although Astarion hates winter, with enough carefully timed pouting, you do force him to humor you one evening when there’s a particularly beautiful snow. He bundles himself up in about ten layers and grumbles the whole time he’s pulling on his thick woolen greatcoat.

“Enough layers,” you laugh, tugging on his hands to pull him outside.

“I’m freezing,” he says, stopping completely and tugging you backward by your interlaced hands when you’ve only made it about three steps out the door.

The sky is cloudy and there’s no silvery moonlight to highlight Astarion’s beauty tonight. You have to be content with the way the torches that line the entrance to the manor make his face all shadows and sharp angles.

“Poor star,” you say in a mocking tone. You step back toward him, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek as you promise in a low voice, “I’ll warm you up later.”

“I’d much prefer if you would warm me up now.”

“Patience is a virtue, my love,” you tell him and drag him out further into the snow.

He catches you around the waist, pulling you against him to whisper in your ear, “I’m not a virtuous man.”

And for a second, you do consider the merits of letting him drag you back inside. But it’s been so long since you’ve seen a snow this pretty and it’s getting late in the season and you aren’t going to let your lust-addled mind win out. Astarion could wait- you would have a lifetime with him. You need to appreciate fleeting moments as they come.

“Help me build a snowman,” you say, attempting to distract yourself from the flames of desire burning hot within you.

Astarion looks incredulous, “What do you take me for? A child?”

“I take you for a man who loves his wife very much and would make her very happy if he listened to her,” you say, looking up at him and trying to bat your lashes in that way he can’t resist.

He sighs, one of those big dramatic ones that is meant to make you feel like you’re the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Always an actor, your husband. You have grown to appreciate it now that you can understand the man beneath the performance.

“The last thing I want is to ruin my beautiful nails,” he says with a frown.

“You’re wearing gloves,” you point out, laughing at his theatrics.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll supervise. That suits my talents far better.”

And so, Astarion sets to work micromanaging you like his life depends on it. Over a stupid snowman that he called childish.

You can hardly even pack a bit of snow into a ball before Astarion is complaining about it being lopsided or that the ratio between the different snowballs is off and making the thing look ugly. It takes entirely too long to complete.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You look at the completed snowman for a second, feeling a sense of accomplishment in your work. And then, you reach out to kick it over.

“See,” you grin up at Astarion. “That’s the fun part.”

“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” Astarion says, leaning down to kiss you.

But you also know he’s secretly disappointed he didn’t get to kick down a snowman.

“C’mon, I’ll build another one for you,” you tell him.

When he isn’t looking, you roll a ball of snow in your hands and throw it at his back. He stiffens and turns, shooting you an angry glare over his shoulder. Trying to hold back your laughter, you reach down to collect another bunch of snow in your hands.

“Don’t you dare-” Astarion starts to say, but is interrupted by the snowball that strikes him directly in the center of his chest. “Oh, you’ll pay for that, you insolent little-”

You let out a little shriek as he starts to chase after you. With your feet sinking into the snow, you aren’t able to run very fast and Astarion somehow manages to move so deftly and sneakily, as if the snow itself was helping to hold him aloft. He gains on you quickly. It feels so different than that first night in the garden, when you had been running for your very life. This time, you sneak peaks over your shoulder, admiring Astarion’s beauty and eagerly awaiting for him to catch up to you.

You’re a bit off-balance when his hands finally wrap around your waist. The two of you end up tumbling into the snow and you land on top of Astarion with a loud ‘oof.’

And although Astarion hates the cold, he settles into snow beneath him, wrapping his arms around you tighter and pressing your foreheads together as you both shake in laughter. He looks beautiful like this, underneath you. The tip of his nose is red from the cold air. He looks alive.

After your laughing fit subsides, Astarion says with exasperation, “Well, if I’m already down here.”

He starts moving his arms up and down in the snow and it’s a bit jarring considering you’re still laying on top of him.

Oh, you realize. He’s trying to make snow angels.

With a delighted giggle, you roll off him into the snow to join him, moving your arms and legs in time. With every stroke of your arms, you make sure to reach out so that your gloved fingers brush against his.

Eventually, you pull yourself up out of the snow, carefully brushing the snow out of the fur lining your coat and thinking about how Shadowheart is going to scold you tomorrow for getting the beautiful fur all wet. Astarion stays on the ground, elegantly sprawled and content to watch you. His pale skin and white hair would almost blend in if not for the rosy pink on his cheeks and nose. You feel a sense of pride simmering within you that it was your blood which gave him that lovely coloring.

“Help me up?” Astarion asks, holding his hands out for you to grab.

“No! You’re just going to pull me down again! You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

Astarion pouts. You hate to admit that you are just as susceptible to giving him what he wants as he is to you.

“Spoiled little rich boy,” you huff, grabbing his hands to pull him up. You can tell he’s pulling back against you, trying to be difficult. “Come on, you’re making this hard on purpose!”

Astarion laughs and finally stands up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against him. The wool collar of his coat is soft and a bit fuzzy where it brushes against your cheek.

“Thank you, my love.” Astarion says in a quiet voice, dropping a kiss along your hairline. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years. You help me remember what it’s like to feel young again.”

Oh, there goes your little heart. Thumping away like a racehorse.

“You are still young. Or at least, you still look young,” you tease.

“Not everyone can age as gracefully as me,” Astarion says wistfully, as if his beauty is some great curse that he is forced to live with.

“Like a fine wine,” you agree, playing into his ego.

“I do recall that you promised to warm me up,” Astarion murmurs huskily in your ear. It has your head spinning and your cunt aching. “I’d like to take you up on that offer now.”

You nod, breathless, and let him lead you back inside. The two of you strip out of your wet clothes, spreading out on a blanket in front of the fire and you thoroughly warm Astarion by sinking to your knees and using your mouth on him.

You curl around one another after, Astarion’s head against your chest as you cuddle together underneath a blanket.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” Astarion says, interrupting the comfortable silence.

“Have to?” you challenge him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “And let me guess- I can’t come. That’s why you humored me tonight.”

“You know I worry too much about your safety. So no, you cannot come. Not while you’re still human.”

“I don’t appreciate you using my humanity as a bargaining chip,” you hiss back at him.

You know he doesn’t mean to make you mad. You know that deeply, down to his core, Astarion is terrified of losing you and that fear will always be present until you ascend past the confines of mortality.

Astarion takes a deep breath, shifting his weight onto his arm so he can hover over you and see your face. His voice softens as he looks down at your angry, furrowed brow, “I apologize, little flower, that’s not my intent. I just- I would be too worried about you, it would jeopardize everyone else’s safety and they don’t deserve that.”

He’s right, of course. And you appreciate him listening to you and reframing his words in a better way. That is what love is- challenging the other person to do better.

But you can’t help feeling that you could be of use if Astarion would just tell you what’s going on. You have your own anxieties. You worry greatly for his safety, too. And it just feels a bit like he’s prioritizing himself over you. It doesn’t feel equal.

When you’re still silent, Astarion drags his thumb gently across cheek, “We can take another trip when I get back. Just the two of us, anywhere you want to go.”

You smile at him. You really do see and appreciate him trying.

You do not know Astarion’s romantic history, but you are sure he must have had many, many lovers based partly on how skilled he is at sex, but based mostly on how wonderful he is. Who wouldn’t want to be around him? Who wouldn’t fall in love with this man immediately? He was snarky and funny and somehow still managed to be impossibly sweet and gentle.

But you also had a feeling that Astarion was not very experienced at being in love. There were times where he seemed so unsure, times where he seemed almost clumsy with his love, and many times like this where it felt like the two of you were speaking different languages. You were both still learning how to work together and how to compromise after so long of only looking out for yourselves.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“To the Underdark,” Astarion says. And he must expect your displeased response because he rolls to lie next to you, so that he is looking at the ceiling instead of your upset face.

“Why on earth would you be going to a place like that?” You ask, surprised. The Underdark was a lawless, dangerous place. It was where criminals and lowlives congregated and festered. You can see the wheels in Astarion’s head turning, trying to come up with some lawyer-y answer that doesn’t answer your question at all so you use the promise. “Honest.”

And so far, he has respected that promise. Usually, his answers were purposefully vague. But sometimes he gave you answers that were actually useful. You had finally learned who the strange people he was always whispering with were. Astarion had even introduced you to them over dinner the next time they had visited.

Karlach you had met previously, when Astarion was injured. You didn’t like to think about that time. It was much easier to pretend you first met Karlach over dinner, where she was all big smiles and boisterous laughter. You got along with her easily, but she seemed like the type of person that everyone got along with.

Lae’zel was the mean-looking lady and she was from very far away, Astarion had explained. Her homeland didn’t have the same restrictions for women, so she was raised and trained to be a warrior before they met in Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t say much at dinner, just chewed her meat angrily.

And Wyll was the man with the two differently-colored eyes. He was very polite and very cordial- the perfect gentleman. He promised to dance with you at the next ball after Astarion had made a mocking comment about his fancy feet.

But tonight, Astarion’s voice is measured when he speaks, each word carefully chosen. “I’m looking for something. And I just got some new information that leads me to believe I’ll find what I’m looking for there.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you choose not to pry further, no matter how desperately you want to. You respected Astarion enough to use the promise of honesty sparingly. He deserves the opportunity to tell you things of his own free will.

But really, you could have guessed he was looking for something. At least now you have confirmation. Now, you just need to figure out what he’s looking for. And why.

“How long do you expect to be gone?” You ask instead, turning your head to study his profile.

“A few days. A week at most. I’m going to take both Lae’zel and Karlach with me. The only thing I want to repeat about my last trip is to see you welcoming me home, full of blood for me to drink.” Astarion turns his head to give a mischievous little grin.

You know he is trying to deflect, trying to lighten the mood with playful banter. But you can’t help but feel your heart stutter in your chest as you picture him, bloody and wounded, bleeding out in front of you. You tear your gaze away from Astarion, back to the ceiling so you can close your eyes, willing away those horrible images.

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him and you feel his pinky finger brush against your own. It makes you smile. Touching. Always touching. You sigh, “I get bored when you’re gone. And it’s winter, so I can’t even work in the garden to keep me busy.”

“I fear what happens when you grow bored,” Astarion teases. He’s probably right to fear considering the last time you were too bored you had broken into his study.

Astarion presses himself up again to lean over you again, eyes hungry and redder than blood. “You’ve given me such a lovely memory tonight to think of when my time on the road grows dull. Perhaps I need to give you one, as well.”

He leans down to give you a lingering kiss. You savor the way his lips glide against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Astarion’s hand begins to trail up from your hip slowly, over the curve of your waist, heading toward where your hardened nipples press against his own chest.

“Not tonight, too tired,” you yawn and Astarion’s hand dances back down over your ribs, instead, his thumb moving in little circles over your skin. You give him your own imitation of one of his signature sinful smiles as you say, “And I have plenty of those memories already, but they’re a poor substitute to actually being with you. My hands just aren’t as adept as yours. Makes me miss you worse.”

“It’s true, I do have wonderful hands.” Astarion lifts one of his hands up between the two of you to admire it. You bring your own hand up to meet his, pressing your palms together and appreciating how his hand compares to yours.

Astarion twines your fingers together. The fire crackles and glints against his gold wedding ring.

His wedding ring.

Which had been noticeably missing from his ring finger since the night of your wedding.

“You’re wearing your ring,” you point out, a thrill of pleasure running through your veins. You continue moving his hand, watching how the firelight twists and shines off the gold.

Good, you think, let the world know that this perfectly imperfect man is mine.

“Have been for weeks, pet. I thought you noticed it already and just didn’t say anything.” Astarion says with that soft voice reserved especially for you.

You detangle your hand from his, sliding the ring off his finger as you go.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, trying to pull it back out of your grasp so he can put it back on his finger.

You push Astarion off you and sit up and Astarion looks utterly lost about what’s going on. You’re content to let him sweat for a little bit because you feel he didn’t make a big enough deal about the fact that he had started to wear his ring again.

Pulling your hair over your shoulder, you turn to look at Astarion. “Help me.”

Astarion- dutiful, devoted husband that he is- sits up to help you unclasp the necklace chain which holds your own ring. You slide the delicate gold band off the chain for the first time since you had put it there and press the ring into his palm while you hold onto his own.

“Let’s try this again. Do you, Astarion Ancunin, take me to be your lawfully wedded wife?” You ask in a low voice, trying to be serious in what feels like a childish, silly moment.

You are worried that Astarion will laugh at you for being foolishly sentimental but when you look at him, Astarion is gazing back at you with a matching goofy grin on his face, like you had just hung the sun and stars in the sky for him.

“I do,” he says and his lovely, beautiful voice lilts through the air and dances its way into your heart. You slip the ring back over his finger, cherishing the way the gold looks nearly incandescent against his pale skin.

Mine, you think, now and forever.

You motion with your hand for him to go next.

Astarion clears his throat. “Do you take me to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you choke out in a whisper and Astarion slips the ring onto your finger, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. You think you might have seen tears welling up in his eyes and your own vision is starting to go a bit blurry. It feels like the wedding you never really got.

“Where’s Gale to tell you to ‘kiss the bride’ when you need him?” You ask with a watery laugh.

“I think I can manage that perfectly well by myself,” Astarion huffs. “And knowing Gale, we’d be here all day before he got around to saying the important part.”

“Who’s the one being wordy now? Just kiss me already,” you tease.

And he does. Over and over and over again until your lips are swollen and your head is spinning.

“I’ll miss you,” Astarion murmurs against your lips.

His words tear you back to reality, force you to remember a world outside of this perfect moment, which has wrapped around the two of you like a warm blanket.

“You don’t have to miss me if you take me with you,” you point out, nudging your nose against his.

“Cute,” Astarion says. “But not going to work.”

You pout in that way that always makes Astarion give you what you want.

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose. “That won’t work either.”

Alas, that’s all the dirty tricks you have left in your metaphorical pocket.

“You better bring me back something really good, then,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him.

Astarion laughs- all golden and shimmery and filling the room with the warmth of the sun.

—-------

Astarion wakes you up with a gentle kiss the next evening, when the sun is just about to slip past the horizon into night. He’s kneeling beside the bed, dressed in what can only be described as armor. It’s concerning, to say the least. The Underdark is dangerous, certainly, but the implication that whatever he’s doing is dangerous enough warrant armor has you even more worried.

“Goodbye, my love. I’ll be back in a few days,” Astarion’s voice is soft and his fingers run gently through your hair. It would be the perfect way to wake up if he wasn’t leaving.

“Be safe. I love you” you tell him, feeling hopeless at your lack of control over whether he will return home safely.

“I love you, too. Go back to sleep,” he urges you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

There’s something gnawing at you as you watch him slip silently out of the bedroom door. It still feels like he’s not telling you the truth.

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

Notes:

Yay! Everyone is happy (for now…)

Not going to lie, I had a whole blowjob scene written for this chapter and decided to cut it because this thing is already monstrously long without it and I honestly didn't feel like it was contributing anything new to the story. So I'll probably repurpose it for a later chapter or I might post it as a separate little side fic because it did have some dialogue that I thought was funny that wouldn't work later. We'll see…

Fun fact, the 'lamentable is the autumn picker' poem is something that Astarion did have sewn into his shirt in early access and as a poetry lover, I think it is one of the loveliest lines I've ever read. He's also got a funny little line sewn into his underwear in the game that makes me laugh: 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky.'

Another fun fact, 'Riding Saint George' was actually a regency era slang term for riding a guy. It comes from the story of Saint Georgy and the Dragon, where the dragon looms over St. George. So the phrase essentially means that the woman (like the dragon) is on top during 'amorous congress.' I heard about this term in a different regency era fic I read forever ago and I thought it was so funny and I'm so happy I finally got the chance to use it somewhere.

I'm going to try to have chapter 7 out at around the same time as normal next Sunday but I am in grad school and going to a conference out of town next weekend so it depends a bit on when I can sneak away to post. Fair warning, the next two chapters are going to be very plot heavy and then we will be back to more fluffy, smutty goodness for the final two chapters.

I love you guys so much!!! I wish I could give all of you little kisses on the foreheads! It makes my day every time I read a new comment and I felt like an evil overlord all week feasting on your suffering from last chapter lol. Thanks for sharing this crazy journey with me- it makes it all the more fun!

As always, hugest thank you to my beta-writer AliensNSuch on ao3.

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #x reader #my writing #til death do us part

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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 months

Text

ⱧɆ₳Ɽ₮ ₴Ⱨ₳₱ɆĐ ฿ØӾ

☽ Pairing ☾ warlock!christian yu x witch!chubby!fem!reader

☽ Genre ☾ supernatural au , fluff, smut

☽ Summary ☾ When his first attempt at a spell ends in him being chased out of town, Christian stumbles through the woods and stumbles upon your cottage. Unwelcoming to visitors, you attempt to chase him off but there's just something about this stranger that makes it impossible to turn him away.

☽ Word Count ☾ 2.7k-ish

☽ Warnings ☾ mentions of death/funerals (it's handled comedically so nothing gruesome), witchcraft obviously, unprotected sex, nibbling, a lil bit of rough sex, soft dom christian vibes, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (darling, love), & that's all babes.

☽ A/N ☾ I wrote this as a request for @magoapple who loves Christian Yu as much as I do. Thank you for trusting me to write up your idea and I hope that it came out the way you wanted. Love you 💜

It was supposed to be a simple sleep spell. A few sprigs of dried mugwort, ground lepidolite, the toe of a dead man, a splash of moon water, two creams, three sugars. Or was it three creams, two sugars? Racing through the trees, bare branches grasping at his limbs like the claws of the damned, Christian knows he made a mistake somewhere.

His grandmother’s spells, written on tea stained scraps of paper, provided clear instructions. Naturally a few words here and there had faded over time but how important could they have truly been?Important enough that they might've kept him from cooking up the nauseating potion that made him pass for a corpse.

The days of grieving that preceded his funeral service were hell for everyone but him. While dozens wept he snoozed peacefully. Arrangements were made. His pinstripe white suit was tailored. An oak wood casket was measured to suit his height. The only thing missing, the very thing that saved him, was that the mortician skipped the embalming process.

In a small middle of nowhere town like this, people are prone to superstition. When the mortician placed his scalpel to Christian’s throat, prepared to make his first incision, he could’ve sworn he heard a low humming noise. A death rattle is what they call it. Unremarkable when heard coming from the dying but when it’s coming from the dead? Cut into them and the sound will haunt you for the rest of your days.

And so he quietly left him intact. Something he’d come to regret when his wife rushed into the funeral home screaming in terror that the boy had risen from the dead at his own funeral. The townspeople were unhappy to say the least. Glancing over his shoulder, Christian can still see raging globes of orange looming between the trees. The flames of torches meant to burn him to ash.

There’s chatter amongst the small group of men tasked with capturing him. Their voices aren't distinctive in the slightest but their anger—their fear—seeps into their surroundings. One of the men managed to cut his arm before he escaped. His hand clings to the wound, gathering the fabric of his tattered suit to soak up the blood that drips from it.

He’s out of breath, lungs burning with every step he takes. He doesn’t know how much longer he can run or even where he’s running to. Only that he has to keep going or he’ll be burned at the stake. He knows he’s been running in a straight line but suddenly the trees seem to bend as if he’s made a right turn. The change is dizzying, causing him to stumble but he has to keep running. Straight? No, left. No, right. No.

Thud! His body collides with something unseen, knocking him to the ground. “What the hell!” you shout, bracing yourself for the fall. You land hard on your bottom, the basket of herbs on your arm spilling out into the grass. Scrambling to your feet, you spot the beast that slammed into you though he’s no beast at all. Despite his disheveled appearance, the dark haired man has a gentleness to him that makes you want to rush to his aid.

Watching him dust himself off, you see that he’s injured...and handsome. Incredibly handsome. But how did he get here? How? “Oh my goodness, I’m so happy I found you. You have to help me!” he pleads, grasping at your arm to pull himself up. You back away, sensing the impending presence of even more unwanted company. “You led them here? To my home! Who sent you?” Eyeing the cozy cottage behind you, Christian questions if he’s alive after all.

Everything from the chestnut shingles on the roof to the cobblestone path with flowers springing out from between the cracks reminds him of the story books he read as a child. Vines of wisteria climb the walls, bundles of lavender adorning the arches of the windows and doors. A place like this—it shouldn’t be here.

“You shouldn’t be here! Whoever sent you—” you say, lowering your voice to a hush. “No one sent me. I’ve just, I’ve had a day, alright? If you don’t help me they’ll kill me so please, please help me.” You want to turn him away, send him right back in whatever direction he came from, but you can’t. The sincerity of his pleas tug at your heartstrings, playing them like a violin.

Behind him you spot the lights of the torches, bringing back dark memories of what lead to your life of solitude to begin with. Shaking away the ghosts of your past, you rush to pull his jacket off. “Take your clothes off!” “Hey!” he squeals, twisting free, “What are you doing?” “You stink of graveyard dirt. It’s interfering with my spell. Take your clothes off, anything the dirt touched, and dispose of them!”

Christian hesitates, unsure he wants to trust a strange woman’s demands to strip down, no matter how beautiful she is. “Just do it before you get us both killed!” “So feisty! Fine, I’ll do it!” Finally getting his jacket off, you toss it into the trees. Christian follows your lead, hurriedly stripping down to his underwear and disposing of the clothes in a small scattered area just beyond your grass.

You’re ashamed of yourself. Staying focused has always been your strength and men, unfortunately, have always been your weakness. His muscled body is covered in inked markings, mesmerizing you to the point of total distraction. Christian catches you staring and winks, “Like something you see, darling?” “Ugh, you’re already unbearable!” you huff, marching towards your home. “Come inside, we need to handle that wound.” “What about them?”

Pushing your front door open, you turn around and begin counting backwards from 10. Gradually, the torches snuff out and the voices fade into the night. “We’re invisible to them now. They won’t find us. They won’t find anything. The trees will twist until they can’t even find each other.” You say this with a coldness that betrays your sweet exterior and fuels his curiosity.

“You’re magnificent” he muses, making you crack something too fleeting to register as a smile though it’s something resembling one. Lowering your head to hide your amusement, you step inside and he trails behind you, a lost puppy in search of a home. “Whoa” he gasps, marveling at the decor. It’s rustic and simple yet everything in it seems priceless. Even the picture frames appear ornate, the paintings within their boundaries thriving with life.

If he stands still long enough he could swear the paintings move. “Do you plan to bleed out on my carpet?” you tease, standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a blanket and a small basket holding your own special first aid supplies.

“When did you get those?”

“Get what?”

“The blanket and the…they just…”

“Appeared?” you laugh, handing him the blanket, “Things tend to do that around here. Come sit.”

Wrapping himself in the blanket, Christian makes his way into the kitchen. “Might you have a name, stranger?” you ask, setting up your own makeshift medical station at the table. “Christian. And yours?” Unraveling a roll of gauze, you glance up to find him staring at you with a longing in his eyes that even he may not be aware of. It makes your heart skip a beat, your pulse racing as you catch yourself slipping under his spell once more.

The sound of a pot boiling over on the stove reels you back in. You clear your throat, hurrying to tend to the dinner you’d so quickly forgotten about. Jumping into action, Christian grabs an oven mitt and is right at your side helping to put out a small fire before it catches. “Goodness, look at me. I’m such a mess. Forgive me, I just—this is a lot and I—” you ramble, flustered by the culmination of events.

You stop to catch your breath, a hand clutched to your chest. This is far more excitement than you were prepared for. “Would you like something to eat, Christian?” Your question makes him suddenly aware of how long it’s been since he last had a bite to eat or even a sip of water. The aroma rising from the pots is mouthwatering, only making matters worse. If he had enough moisture in his body to drool he would.

“I would love that, thank you.” You take him by the hand, leading him back to his chair to properly examine his wound. “I’ll feed you and fix you up then off you go. Understood?” He nods obediently, praying that mind reading isn’t among your abilities. As annoyed as you may be at his arrival, there’s still something so inviting about you. You handle him with such warmth. The very warmth that was so cruelly stripped from his life without warning. What intention could he possibly have of letting you rush him off?

But he lies anyway, settling into the comfort of your touch. “Understood.”

Chirp! Chirp! The baby bird cupped in Christian’s hands flutters its wings. A thorn peeks from between its feathers, preventing it from taking flight. “Poor thing” you pout, pinching the thron and plucking it free, “There you go. All better, aren’t we?” Christian looks to you with the same admiration that he has everyday since he stumbled upon your cottage, injured and alone like this sweet little bird.

Weeks have passed since then, both of you finding excuses for him to stay before ultimately doing away with the notion altogether. Before his arrival you’d never spent mornings like this sitting barefoot in the grass enjoying the utopia your magic had created. Now every morning begins this way with him, hours spent opening up to him in ways you never thought you would with anyone.

You shudder to think of how long you spent locked up in that house, hidden from everything bad in the world and consequently everything, at least one thing, good. Christian sets the bird down in the grass, watching it hop off into the distance and disappear beyond the invisible veil that surrounds your home. “Darling,” he says, a sweet nickname he’s come to call you, “Have you ever thought about leaving?” You laugh at the obscenity of such a question, “Leaving? Wh-why would I do that?”

Sensing the anxiousness in your voice, he intertwines his fingers with yours, brushing his thumb along the back of your trembling hand. “There’s a big, wide world out there, darling. You can’t hide here forever.” It’s a knife through your heart to hear him say that word. Hide. “I’m not hiding here. This place keeps me safe. It keeps us safe.” You move to snatch your hand away but he only holds it tighter, bringing you closer to him.

“But it keeps us still. Something as beautiful as you are shouldn’t be kept. Beautiful things should be free, shouldn’t they?” “And who’ll protect me?” Christian smiles, deep brown eyes refelcting the morning sun, “I will.” Instinctively you want to make a mad dash for the front door, slam it behind you and shut everything out. But with it would go your new companion, the light at the end of a tunnel of seemingly eternal loneliness.

His other hand finds your waist, bringing you onto his lap. “I owe you everything” he whispers against your lips, “Won’t you let me give it to you?” He wraps his arms around you, kissing you with all the passion his words can’t communicate. It steals your breath away, killing that urge to run away. Your fingertips trace his jawline as you tilt forward to deepen the kiss. His tongue ventures further into your mouth, his hands finding their way under your flowy black dress.

Your skin’s softer than the most expensive silk. He can’t get enough of touching you, caressing you. Light sparks of what feels like electricity give you goosebumps as he trails up your spine. “Come with me” he begs, kissing his way down your collarbone. His tongue teases your cleavage, rounding what lush flesh of you breasts overflows from your lowcut neckline.

Christian tugs the front of your dress down, groaning in pleasure as your breasts fall free of the material. Taking your nipple between his lips, he eagerly buries his face into your chest, suckling at the bud. You throw your head back, eyes falling closed, and profess to the skies that you’ll do it. “Yes” you moan, grinding down to feel him hard against your core, “I’ll do it.”

Christian hums happily, nibbling at your stiffened bud as he reaches between your legs to stroke your slit through your panties. Only there are none. They’ve disappeared. He looks up at you, perplexed. He knows you were wearing them. “Where—” “Did you forget?” you giggle, watching the awe on his face as he feels his cock spring from his pants, “I’m magic.” “Yes, you are.”

Magic in every sense of the word. Not only in the intoxicating kiss you pull him into. Not only in the way that you sink down onto him, swallowing every throbbing inch of him into you. You’re magic in the strands of hair that fall between his fingers and in the voice that cries out his name. “Christian!” you moan, tearing his shirt away to reveal the tattooed form you’ve lusted for from the start. He bounces you in his lap, bottoming out with each thrust of his hips. It sends shockwaves through you, your juices pooling at the base of his cock.

Your toes curl, back arching as the blood rushing up his shaft has his veins pulsing while you clench around him. “I’ve wanted you for so long” he confesses, gripping the plush of your ass. “Oh god, me too. So badly.” As if you needed to say it. You’re so wet that he can feel you juices splashing on his fingers each time your bodies meet. That says everything. But he loves to hear your voice. Hear you say that you’ve wanted him as much as he wants you. “Darling” he coos, his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, “You’re shaking.”

You are. It started when he first took your hand and it hasn’t stopped since. One especially rough thrust makes you cry out, your pussy beyond overstimulated by the return of sensations you haven’t felt in years. Your eyes sparkle with tears, a tightness gripping your chest, “Too much! Ah, can’t…” In one graceful motion he has you on your back, your trembling knees pressed back to spread you wider. “Ssh, you can. You can take it for me. My brave girl, hmm?”

You squirm beneath him, this new angle perfect for slamming into your sweet spot. “You...are...the...devil” you gasp, legs wrapping around his waist. “Not the first time I’ve heard that, love” he chuckles, taking that as a challenge. Pinning your hands above your head, he picks up speed, claiming every part of you in every way he can until you’re—

“Christian—I—I’m—oh my goddesses.”

“That’s it my lovely. Wanna feel you—”

Your orgasm washes over you, the waves powerful enough to pull you under. You’re drowning and you bring him right along with you. You're overcome with every emotion all at once as you hold each other tight, flowing into each other, sticky and sweet.

The sky darkens. The air is still. For a moment you hear nothing and then your body relaxes. The sun returns, the sky somehow prettier than it was before. Christian collapses on top of you, his face disappearing beneath a mess of dark hair as he lays his head on your chest. He squints his eyes, noticing that, beyond his curtain of hair, he can spot parts of the forest he hadn’t seen before.

In the distance, the little wounded bird hops around with his friends. Not too far away he spots remnants of the clothing he tossed away when he found you. He can see everything now and that means everything can see him. It can see you. “So, where to first?” you beam, admiring the view with him.

“Anywhere you want, darling, as long as I’m with you.”

#christian yu x reader #christian yu fluff #christian yu smut #dpr ian x reader #dpr ian smut #dpr ian fluff #chubby reader #plus size reader

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libraryofgage · 7 months

Text

PJO Steddie Two

One

So, this part was kinda supposed to be attached to part one, but I got tired and the part was getting too long so here we are lmao

Anyway, we get a few parents revealed here, but most are still a mystery

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

---

Eddie is on the other side of the park and wondering if he has enough time to see that fake Parthenon when he hears the unmistakable sound of a harpy's shriek. Those things have nearly eaten him enough times at camp for their bird screams to be seared into his memory. And if he's hearing the overgrown chicken, that means it's found those demigod kids before he could.

Fuck.

He whirls around just in time to see the harpy shoot above the trees, wings flared and feathers bristling, before dive-bombing whichever unlucky kid it's decided to eat first.

"Motherfucking shit bitch," Eddie mutters, taking off across the grass to where the harpy dived.

On the bright side, he managed to find the kids pretty quick; he'd only been in Athens for a few hours. On the fucked up side, he might only be able to sneak one or two kids away from the monster. Which, like, he'd love to save more of them, but he's not exactly the best fighter. He's the best runner and hider. This is why he's sent on these missions: the camp has learned that stealth and hiding usually bring more kids into safety than straight-up attacking monsters.

Eddie skirts around a tree, just barely missing the branch that threatens to whack his head off. He can hear music (something light and jumpy, soft and clear) and kids shouting in what he assumes to be fear. Just based on the sound, he's not going to be able to sneak those kids away. They're probably right in front of the harpy.

He'll have to be a distraction so they can run. "I'm gonna fucking die today," Eddie says, resigned and annoyed all at once. He reaches up and tears off the guitar pic and chain around his neck, the small triangle bursting outwards into a shield with straps that wrap around his arm.

It's ready to withstand some harpy claws by the time Eddie gracefully trips over a tree root and reflexively tucks and rolls over his shoulder. He pops up from the ground, eyes trained to the harpy, and freezes as three very important things become incredibly obvious.

One: the kids are not, in fact, shouting in fear. They're shouting with excitement, cheering at the fight happening before them. Eddie watches as a boy wearing a baseball cap punches the air and shouts, "Get 'em, Steve! Fuck the bird up!" His words are quickly followed by two girls jokingly shouting, "Language!" in return before laughing.

Two: the song playing is coming from a Bluetooth speaker on the blankets. It's a pop song. At least, it sounds like one. It's definitely old, though, and he only knows the name (Dancing in the Moonlight, by Toploader) because one of the muses' kids sang it once at a campfire night when Eddie first arrived at the camp.

Three: the most gorgeous boy Eddie has ever seen is currently beating the ever-loving shit out of the harpy with a nail bat. His mouth is pulled back into a vicious grin, his hair is somehow unaffected by the violent swings, and Eddie can somehow tell he's dragging this fight out with the harpy to blow off some steam.

"Oh! Steve!" one of the kids shouts, a girl with a beanie covering her hair. Her hat seems to be shifting just slightly, but Eddie thinks it might be a trick of the light. "Hit her to the music, like one of those movie fight scenes."

Then Eddie hears the boy, Steve, laugh. The sound is bright and clear and pierces right through Eddie's chest. "Sure thing, kiddo," Steve says, sliding back a step and twirling the bat in his hand. He tilts his head, listening to the song and catching the drums and keyboard, and then jumps right back onto the harpy.

And he does it. He starts swinging and landing hits on the harpy in time with the drums. Steve roundhouse kicks the harpy in the chest right as a guitar solo starts, his foot making contact with the first strum. Feathers are bursting in the air around Steve, brushing by him and creating brief, tiny dappled shadows over his face. The way he fights is like a dance, especially when he has music to follow and an audience to entertain.

Here's the thing: Eddie has never been one to keep his imagination in check. Why would he? Some of his best songs have been inspired by daydreams. So, when he sees the most gorgeous boy in the world beating a harpy's ass with a violent yet graceful dance, Eddie really can't be blamed for daydreaming.

The bright sun is replaced by a full moon, the park has become the shore by the lake at camp, and the audience of kids has disappeared completely. It's just him and Steve at the lake, smiling at each other and dancing, trading off lead between them. Eddie spins Steve and Steve dips Eddie. Somewhere, Dancing in the Moonlight is playing softly, nearly drowned out by their quiet laughter and whispered jokes and the waves of the lake brushing against the shore.

Oh. Oh.

That stupid prophecy. It was talking about this. The oracle predicted this moment and, apparently, considered it important enough to actually tell Eddie about it months ago. And he's spent this entire time trying to fight that obscure prophecy, trying to turn it into something bitter and filled with rage when it's just...just Steve. And Eddie doesn't know Steve yet, sure, but not even the gods could stop him from giving it a shot.

"YES!"

Eddie blinks, dragged harshly from his daydream by the kids shouting with joy as Steve brings the bat down on the harpy's head. The monster bursts into that familiar puff of smoke and mist and dust, and the kids cheer even louder.

Steve grins and stands up straight, rolling his shoulders and cockily resting the bat on his shoulder. He starts to turn toward the kids only to stop when he's facing Eddie, their eyes meeting and catching right as the song finishes playing.

----

The rush of joy and adrenaline at beating the harpy is still surging through Steve when he sees the guy his age standing a few feet away, staring at them with wide eyes. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's a human who just happens to be able to see monsters, too. They've run into a person like that before. Then he notices the shield on the guy's arm and realizes he must be like them to some degree.

Steve blinks, his shoulders tensing slightly as he studies the other boy. Hair that definitely needs a more specialized shampoo, big brown eyes, and a whole grunge kinda vibe that Steve finds inexplicably attractive. He could spend another hour staring at the guy, but then one of the kids leaps onto his back, laughing right in his ear and nearly making him go deaf.

"That was so awesome!" Dustin shouts, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist as the other kids rush to surround him.

El grabs his free hand, smiling up at him. "Thank you for dance fighting," she says, her words almost drowned out by the other kids shouting their favorite parts and Max insisting she could have helped with the fight.

Steve grins a little wider, feeling his adrenaline drain as the relief of keeping his kids safe takes its place. "She shouldn't have interrupted our day off," he says, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the kids instead of the guy still staring at them. "C'mon, we need to keep moving."

"Where are you going?"

The guy's voice is a little rough, and Steve thinks he'd be able to pick it out from any crowd after hearing it just once. He looks over at the guy, frowning slightly. "I don't think it's your business," he says, trying to ignore the part of him that feels bad.

Thankfully, the guy doesn't seem to care. He just shrugs and takes a few steps closer. "Oh, I don't know, big boy. I think your gaggle of demigods is definitely my business," he says.

"Is that a threat?" Steve asks, really hoping it isn't. It would be a shame to punch the guy's face.

The boy blinks, pausing like he's reconsidering how his words sounded. "Shit, yeah, that did sound bad," he says, frowning and tugging on a lock of hair. He pulls it in front of his mouth, a few more seconds passing before he says, "I'm gonna start again."

The guy clears his throat and the retracts his shield. It shrinks down into a guitar pic on a chain that he latches around his neck. "Okay," he says, "Eddie Munson, son of Hermes, future rockstar, and your guide to Camp Half-Blood."

"Future rockstar?" Max asks, her voice low and sardonic.

"Hermes has kids?" Mike asks.

"I've never heard of Camp Half-Blood," Steve says, pushing forward and herding the kids to stand behind him. He stores Eddie's name for later, forcing himself to focus on the whole Potential Threat to His Kids thing.

Eddie nods like this is something he's expected. "That's fine. Lucky for you, pretty boy, I'm here to explain it all."

"Pretty boy," Steve mumbles, doing his absolute best to not think about his face heating up.

From behind him, he hears Lucas groan, "Aww, man, they're gonna be gross."

Thankfully, Eddie doesn't pay them any mind. "Camp Half-Blood is a safe haven for demigods like us. It's got a barrier around it that keeps monsters out, and we make sure everyone is trained to fight monsters and survive as adults," he explains, grinning at Steve.

"Wait, how many more of us are there?" Will asks, poking his head around Steve to look at Eddie with wide eyes.

"Oh, hundreds. The gods aren't exactly known for keeping it in their pants."

"So, we'll be safe at this camp?" Steve asks slowly.

"Safe as can be, big boy."

"Is it demigods only?" Steve asks.

Eddie nods once, flashing a grin. "Of course. We've got one Olympian who helps run the camp as, like, a punishment thing. He doesn't do much, actually. But we've also got some nymphs and Chiron. Uh, there are a few monsters in the forest, but they aren't too dangerous. They're mostly for training. The main thing is that big dangerous monsters can't get to us, and the Mist keeps humans from stumbling on the camp, too."

Honestly? It sounds way too good to be true. Steve has spent years running across this country and back, collecting the kids along the way and struggling to keep them alive. How is he only now learning about some camp that's built just for kids like them?

"The Mist?" Dustin asks, pushing around Steve. He'd be halfway to Eddie if Steve didn't grab his shirt and drag him back. "What's the Mist?"

"It's, like, this camouflage thing that keeps humans from noticing monsters and our powers," Eddie explains, vaguely sweeping his hand in the direction of a few other park-goers. "It's why nobody started screaming when you beat that harpy."

"Oh, that's what it's called," Dustin says, his grin saying he's about to grill Eddie for all his knowledge if Steve doesn't stop him.

Eddie nods and looks over the kids before settling his gaze on Steve again. "You and the kids will be safe there," he says.

"I wouldn't mind settling down," Will says, tugging on Steve's sleeve and looking up at him hopefully.

The other kids nod in agreement, and El squeezes Steve's hand. "It sounds like it'll be safe for me, too," she whispers.

Gods, is it tempting. No more running around, a place they can actually settle down and call home. He could get a full night of sleep for once instead of waking up every other hour to check their surroundings. He wouldn't need to worry about food or clothes or what to do if the kids get sick.

Steve frowns slightly, thinking for a moment before looking back at Eddie. "What happens when we get there?" he asks.

"You'll be given the grand tour by yours truly," Eddie says, playfully bowing to Steve and the kids. "Then, you'll get sorted into cabins and start training."

"How will we be sorted?" Lucas asks. He sounds genuinely curious, so Steve swallows back his retort that they certainly won't be separated if he has anything to say about it.

"By your godly parent. So, pretty boy here will probably go into the Aphrodite cabin," Eddie says, winking playfully at Steve.

"Aphrodite isn't his mother," El says, pushing closer to Steve as the other kids agree.

Eddie blinks. "Uh, who is?"

Steve hesitates, studying Eddie for a few seconds before looking at the kids. This isn't something he should reveal without a general consensus from them. What he gets is a few shrugs, an exasperated sigh from Lucas, and some nods. "My dad is Zeus," Steve says, looking back at Eddie.

"Dude," Eddie breathes, his eyes wide as though his entire world has been shaken, "How the fuck are you alive?"

And Steve can't help it. He laughs, shrugging off the nerves he'd felt earlier because he just can't bring himself to mistrust Eddie. "It's a bit of a long story," he says, "but I could tell it to you on the way to Camp Half-Blood."

The way Eddie lights up is enough to slightly calm the ever-present anxiety that hums through Steve's veins. Maybe this won't be a disaster.

Tag List (there is definitely still room, so just let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #percy jackson au #my writing #please don't expect quick updates like this on the regular btw #weekend me is just too productive actually #so ya know just vibe i guess lmao

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holdmytesseract · 4 months

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moodboard by @chennqingg <3 | divider by @jiyaxedits <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: thirst, very suggestive smut/light smut - a lot, nudity, weapons, fighting, fluff, cute family moments

Word Count: 4,1k

a/n: I love this chapter. It's probably one of my favourites. I hope you all will love it, too! 🩵

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @mandywholock1980 @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 (Continuing in the comments)

❄️ Chapter Two ❄️ Chapter Four ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Three - Sweet Sixteen

A dissatisfied sigh left your lips, as you felt the pillow underneath your head moving. Being still more than half asleep, you cuddled closer against the pillow again. The moment you got gently shoved off the warm underground which supported your head woke you up - just in time to see Loki standing up from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

The rising sun, which shone through the big windows illuminated his beautiful cerulean skin. His bare back; rippled with muscles almost seemed to glow - just like his gloriously naked butt and juicy thighs. Blinking, in order to get fully awake, you bit your lip. Sinful memories of the past night flooded your brain, and causing your core to throb deliciously.

Well... Since the princes had their own chambers by now, you and Loki were able to indulge way more into your love life than before; sharing some much-appreciated privacy and intimacy. Not that you and him made it work while the twins shared your chambers, but... Now it was easier.

"Where are you going, my king?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, still trying to escape the claws of sleep. "Come back to bed." You whined, reaching out your hands blindly. A low chuckle echoed through the room, as your husband appeared again in your field of view; but now fully dressed in his armour - much to your dismay. "Apologies, my love, but I promised our sons to see their development in fighting. I have to leave for the training grounds now. Unless I'll be late."

A grunt of disapproval left your lips. "They are training this early?" Loki nodded, chuckling. "As most of the time, darling. Our sons are very disciplined when it comes down to fighting. Well... At least one of them..." Loki mumbled the last sentence; voice barely audibly. "And I appreciate that, but... Can't you stay just a little longer and then leave for the training grounds?" You pouted and played with the soft duvet which was covering your naked body, causing another deep chuckle to rumble through your husband's chest. "I appreciate your eagerness, my queen, but I'm afraid not. Though, I promise to return by sunset and I shall quench your thirst." He stated, moving to hover above your upper body. The king's palms were firmly pressed in the mattress, left and right beside your arms to hold his body up. His biceps and abs bulged deliciously, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Promised?" Loki's face was mere inches above yours now. Strands of raven hair tickling the side of your face. "Promised." His lips slotted over yours, kissing you with all the love and desire he held for you. It only managed to intoxicate you even further; making it even harder to let him go. So, you just decided to start a last try to convince him to stay.

You placed your palms on his abs, feeling the muscles flex beneath your hands, while you kept kissing him. You lingered there only for a few moments, before you let one hand wander lower. Your fingertips traced a line from his belly button, through the soft, silken hairs of his happy trail, to the hem of his ancient armour inspired loincloth. Just when you had slipped your fingers halfway underneath the garment, Loki's big hand was suddenly on yours; enveloping your wrist. His lips left yours with a pop. "Ah-ah, my queen," he tutted and gently pulled your hand away, before intertwining it with his. "As much as I'd love your hand down there... I really have to go." You huffed out a defeated breath and nodded. "Fine. Go, my king - as long as you keep your promise..." A cheeky, mischievous smirk darted over the Frost Giant's face. "Oh don't worry, my love. I want to keep this promise as much as you want me to." Loki whispered in a low voice and bestowed a last kiss on your lips - which you reciprocated hungrily.

Pulling away with a chuckle, your husband shook his head. "You are so insatiable recently, love... Merely letting me out of your sight - and bed." You just shrugged your shoulders; biting your lip. "Well... I just enjoy that we've got a bit more alone time and privacy at the moment. Happens not very often." "I agree - and I like it as well." With a wink, Loki let go of you and turned to walk to the door. "I'll see you tonight." You nodded, smiling. "I love you. Tell the boys I'm proud of them." "I love you even more. And yes, I shall do that."

Loki left the palace; greeting the guards, maids and other royal stuff on his way and headed for the training grounds. From afar, he already recognised his son's battle cries. Áki. Smiling, he leaned against one of the stone columns and watched him moving almost gracefully over the sandy underground, yielding his wooden training sword. Áki had a lot of potential to become a great warrior. He was even seen as the ideal warrior - by all the other fighters, Loki himself, Ymir (His mentor; named after the first Jotun.) and even his advisors. It caused proudness to flood the king's veins.

He admired his son for a few minutes, hidden by the column; watching his good work. But not just how hard and diligent he trained, no... It had Loki realising, that this wasn't his little boy anymore. Áki was slowly but surely growing into a man. His hair was longer now, almost reaching his shoulders. His muscles weren't anymore the muscles of a child, but a young man. Áki's shoulders became broader, his torso stronger. By the norns, Loki could even make out the subtle hints of a soft stubble on his chin. The king sighed, shaking his head. How fast time was flying by... They were just infants and now only a few months away from turning sixteen...

Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, Loki stepped out of the shadows, looking at Áki and Ymir, before scanning the area. Where was his other son? Váli was nowhere to be seen. "Dad!" Áki's voice urged to his ears, causing him to smile again. He walked over and placed a hand on his son's sweaty shoulder. Áki wasn't quite as tall as Loki - yet. "Hello, my son. I hope I'm not too late?" Áki smiled as well, shaking his head. "You're not. Just in time." Ymir gave Loki a nod, before bowing his head obediently. "My king."

Loki looked around once again, now frowning. "Where's your brother?" The young prince shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday." The king's eyes then drifted over to the warrior. "I haven't seen him either, your highness. Since a long time, actually. The last time he visited the training grounds was, I believe... a few weeks ago. Perhaps even months." Loki nodded, still frowning.

The princes weren't forced to train, in order to sharpen their fighting skills, but it was highly expected. A prince who couldn't fight and defend himself? Almost scandalous. Yet, Loki would never force his sons to do anything - except it was tradition. The traditions had to be maintained. Fighting wasn't one of them - and yet it surprised Loki to hear that his son had skipped the lessons so often.

"I'll talk to Váli. But for now..." Loki pulled out his beautifully crafted sword. "Show me what you learned." Áki grinned, taking a fighting position. "With pleasure, dad. Get ready to lose." His words made Loki chuckle. "Quite confident, aren't we? Last time we fought, you were the one who lost, son." "That may be true; but I learned."

It was late in the morning, when you decided to finally leave your bed. It had been way too comfortable to stand up - although Loki was missing beside you. Also deciding to flee from quite a few trade documents, who wished to be read and possibly signed, you made your way down the halls towards the library. A book and perhaps a cup of tea was exactly what you wanted today. Just a day off; regaining your strength. So, you told one of the maids that you wished to not be disturbed. With a nod and a curtsy, she left again, telling it the other royal stuff members and especially the royal advisors.

Closing the doors to the library behind yourself, you sighed, smiling. Silence. How soothing for your ears.

You took your time in searching for a book you'd like to read. No stress; no hurry. After you made your choice, you were about to sit down onto one of the comfortable armchairs, when an idea crossed your mind... The secret reading spot. Nobody knew about it. Except you, Loki and your sons. Clapping the book shut again, you climbed the stairs and the little ladder, which led to the hatch - and the hatch led to a little, hidden room behind the countless shelves of books. Loki showed you - though he was almost too tall to fit through the passageway. The little room was cosy furnished by your family and made to escape the royal life for a while.

Oblivious, you closed the hatch behind yourself - and looked up; almost getting a heart attack at the pair of identical Y/E/C eyes looking at you. "By the norns, Váli!" You yelped; hand draped across your heaving chest. The teenager smiled bashfully. "A-Apologies, mum." You took deep breaths, sitting down beside him on the countless pillows, blankets and furs. "What in all the nine realms are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the training grounds with your brother and father?" The young man's cheeks reddened. "I-I should, yes, but..." Váli sighed, shutting the book he was reading. "I don't like the fighting, mum. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spend my time here in the library, reading and learning new things." He paused, fumbling nervously with his fingers. "I know the basics of fighting. Áki and Ymir taught me - a-and I think that's enough. I must confess that I've been skipped the training already for weeks... I-I'm so sorry, mum, I-" The prince said almost panicky, causing you to jump in. You placed a hand on his tunic clad shoulder and smiled. "It's alright, sweetheart. I can understand. Even though I loved to fight when I was younger - like you know. Without it, I wouldn't have met your father; but I do. I really understand. This is who you are - who you want to be... And that is just fine…" You gazed lovingly into your son's eyes, witnessing his features soften and his lips twitching into a smile. The hand on his shoulder went to cup his cheek. "…as long as you know how to at least protect yourself, so I don't have to worry." Váli placed his big hand over yours, shaking his head; causing his short, blonde curls to bounce. "You won't ever have to worry, mum. I promise." You smiled and couldn't help yourself from hugging him. Something Váli gladly returned.

A few moments passed, until your son spoke up again. "So... I came here to flee from my training... From what or who are you fleeing?" A small sparkle of mischief glinted in his eyes. Váli may have been the more sensitive and sensible one of twins, but nevertheless... He was his father's child.

You giggled, shaking your head. "From my royal duties." The prince chuckled as well. "Yeah, thought so."

It was already late in the evening, when Loki returned to the palace with Áki. The father and son duo spent the whole day on the training grounds. While Loki was still up to the mark and not tired at all, Áki was lacking quite a bit stamina - yet. The teenager was worn out and tired and therefore retreated straight to his chambers - probably sleeping through.

"It has been a very successful day today. I'm proud of you, son. Of course, you still have to learn a lot of things, but... I have the feeling you are born for this. You're doing great. Keep it up - but don't forget the other important things in life." It was an allusion to the young prince's royal duties, which he liked to neglect from time to time. Áki smiled, blushing slightly, but nodded. "I will, dad, I promise. And thank you. I love to train with you. I hope we can do this more often." A chuckle rumbled through the Frost Giant's chest. "Is Ymir not satisfying enough, young warrior?" "No, no. Ymir is great, but... You are better. The greatest warrior Jotunheim has ever seen - and my dad." Loki nodded, understood what Áki meant and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I know what you mean. I promise you I'll take time to train with you. Being the king isn't an easy task and utterly busy, but... Family is way more important. Although, I can't always leave the duties to your mother. She's got enough of her own." "I understand." "I know you do." The king patted his son's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night's rest." "Thanks, dad. You too - and... Greet mum, please. I haven't seen her all day..." "I will."

After saying goodbye to his one son, Loki marched straight to the chambers of his other son - which weren't far away. Just down the hallway. Knocking gently, he waited for an answer. A few moments later, he got one. "Come in!" Váli's voice urged to Loki's ears from behind the door. He stepped inside and found his son nestled in front of the fireplace, reading. The nights had started to become quite cold, indicating that autumn was on his way. Váli lifted his head, in order to see who the 'intruder' was. His eyes widened immediately, when they landed on his father. "O-Oh, hello, d-dad." He clapped the book shut, putting it aside. "C-Can I help you with something?" Váli was nervous and frankly a bit afraid, because he knew exactly what was going on.

Loki gave him a nod, before he crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. "You weren't on the training grounds today... And Ymir told me that you missed his fighting lessons quite often... Why?" Loki could see how the teenager swallowed and started to play with his fingers nervously. The conversation for him like a déjà vu, since he had talked with you about it this morning as well.

"I-I am sorry, dad, it's just..." He sighed. "I, uh, I don't like the fighting. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spent the whole day in the library. Reading books, learning things." Loki was quite a bit speechless. He knew, of course, how much his son loved his books, but he didn't expect that. "A-And I know that I have to be able to defend myself - which I understand! I do. I really do - and I am more than capable of doing so. I can defend myself if I have to. I learned the basics of fighting and that's enough." Váli paused, taking a deep breath, while his father still listened patiently to what he has to say. "I-I hope you understand that. Y-You once said that you wouldn't force us to do anything besides tradition, so please, dad... Please don't-" That was the moment Loki had to jump in.

"Váli..." He walked over to his son, laid his arm around his shoulder and guided him to sit down on the little fur clad sofa beside the fireplace. "Me, nor your mother would force you to do anything you don't want to. That's what I once said, yes... And it never changed. That point still stands. It always will. If you prefer reading than fighting, then by the norns, be it this way." The king smiled at the prince, who was visibly relieved. "Nevertheless, I'd like to test your skills. See if you really are able to defend yourself. It's important." Váli nodded. "Okay." "Okay. Let's say tomorrow?" Once again, a nod. "Tomorrow." "Good." Loki clapped his son gently on the back and stood up. "I'll leave you to your book now. I am sure your mother awaits me already." Váli smiled. "Thank you, dad." He gave him a nod, "Of course." and turned to leave. "I wish you a good night's rest."

After the important conversation with his son, Loki made his way quickly and full of anticipation to his and your shared chambers. After all, there was some... unfinished business between you and him. When he finally reached the door, he practically stormed in - only the find the chambers empty, except for a maid, who was currently cleaning up. The maid noticed him of course immediately and quickly curtsied. "Oh, good evening, your majesty." Loki gave her a nod. "Have you seen my wife? Do you know where she is?" "Yes, my king. She is having her supper." Oh... Too bad, Loki thought, but decided not to join you. He'd wait for you. "Thank you. Leave now, please. I wish to be alone." The maid curtsied again, "Of course, my king." and hurried to leave the royal chambers.

The king decided to take a bath; get rid of all the sweat, grime and dust, while he waited for you to return.

Putting your spoon aside, you stood up from the table. "Your majesty, have you had enough to eat? Can I bring you something else?" You shook your head and smiled at the young maid. "No, thank you. I'll retreat to the chambers for the night." The young female Jotun nodded and curtsied. "Very well, my queen." "Oh, do you know if my husband and son already returned?" She shook her head. "Unfortunately, not. No." "Alright, thank you. Good night." "Good night, your highness."

While the maids already hurried to clean everything up, you left the dining hall and made your way back towards your chambers.

Softly closing the door behind yourself, you decided to go to bed early today. A long, rough day of neglected work was coming your way, without a doubt. And since Loki hasn't returned yet either...

You stepped over to the bed you shared with the king. With a sigh, you reached behind yourself and started to undo the laces of the corset you wore. It was attached to a beautifully tailored skirt. The colours were a rich gold and a deep green, showing of course to whom your heart belonged. Loki. You may be living on Jotunheim now, surrounded by your folk, the Jotuns, but nevertheless... You were still an Æsir and also loved to wear Asgardian dresses. It was a part of who you were. A part of yourself.

Your hands worked blindly on unlacing the corset, causing you to highly concentrate on the difficult task ahead. You were so focused, that you didn't notice the calculated steps, coming your way. Loki was lurking behind you in the dark, like a predator was observing his prey. The moment you started to undress; his eyes never left your body for a second. Fixated on what was his. Now, he was standing right behind you; your intoxicating scent invading his system like a drug. He was never going to get tired of this. Never. His eyes trailed over your back; followed the sliver of skin, which peeked through the gap of the unlaced corset. Ruby orbs settled on your hands, as he watched them work. It was a feast for his eyes and probably selfish, but he couldn't help himself.

His fingers twitched; eager to touch you. Loki managed to control himself for quite a few moments, but at some point, he just couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out his arms, he enveloped your hands, causing you to flinch. But he leaned quickly forward, bestowing a sensual kiss on the skin where your neck met your shoulder, reassuring you. "Shh, it's me, my queen," the king whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine at his deep, raspy voice. His hands gently removed yours, as he took the laces in his own hands, unlacing the corset for you. Once that was done, you felt his fingertips dancing over the sliver of freed skin, before he slipped both his hands inside your dress, in order to shove the expensive garment over your shoulders and down your arms; letting it fall to the ground. Now you stood in front of him almost naked. Your white undergarment was the last thing covering you. Although Loki made quick work of ridding you of those as well; leaving you now completely bare. You could feel his ruby eyes on you again; followed by his sinful touch. Palms coming to rest right above your hip bones; thumbs caressing the soft skin on your lower back. You shivered again; heartbeat increasing. Loki's touch never failed to overwhelm you in so many different ways. It had never changed. From the moment he touched you for the first time, through all the years and now.

His hands lingered there only for a few moments, before they started their journey. They travelled upwards, passing by your hips and waist, until they landed on your ribcage - mere inches underneath the swell of your breasts. Your breathing was already ragged; growing more and more unsteady the further up his hands travelled. But it failed you for a second, when they stopped so close in front of their destination. He was teasing you. "L-Loki," you breathed; already pleading him. He had you - without a doubt. Loki just had to snap his fingers and you were a chaotic, aroused mess for him.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Already begging me, darling? Isn't my touch enough?" He asked in a low, husky voice, tightening his grip. You whimpered - in desperation. Loki chuckled once more; hands starting to roam your body again - but missing the parts where you needed him the most. "My queen..." He whispered hoarsely. "You are divine. I swear, I will never tire of you. Still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A feast for the eyes." He was so close to you. So close, that you could feel his hot breath tickling the skin on your neck. "My eyes only, of course. You belong to me. You are mine." Loki pressed another feverish kiss on your neck. "Let me worship you." Kiss. "Let me make love to you." Kiss. "M-My king, I-I-" He grinded his hips against your back, causing you to cut off your own sentence; mouth forming a perfect 'o'. He was naked. Your eyelids fell shut; a ragged breath leaving your lips.

"Time to keep my promise," your husband growled into your ear, as he pushed you forward - walking you closer to the bed. Before your body could hit the sheets, he turned you around, so you were sitting on the edge of the bed - with Loki towering above you know. Finally, you could lay your eyes upon your handsome man. He had freshly bathed. You could tell by the wet strands of his raven hair. Small droplets of water were still running down his cerulean skin, making their way down his entire body. His ruby eyes were an even darker shade of red; clouded by lust. You took the few moments, in which you just shamelessly stared at him. Time to tease him a bit.

Loki was staring down at you as well. One hand was in his hair, smoothing back his wet hair, while the other was... Your eyes lowered, landing on his crotch. Oop. You smirked and reached out your hand, batting his away - which caused a low groan to escape his throat. Placing both your palms on his thick, muscular thighs, you rubbed them up and down his long femurs; not missing to dig your fingernails into the supple skin - causing Loki to hiss. Close. But not close enough. "My love..." He whined; abs clenching in pure, primal desperation. You smiled again, biting your lips. Just a bit more.

"Aren't you tired, my king? After a whole day of fighting? Don't you wish to go to bed immediately?" You teased him further. Loki shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. "My queen... You-" He groaned again, as you traced the inside of his thighs; muscles twitching, hips bucking. "You were saying, my king?" Loki swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Y-You of all the p-people should know how much s-stamina I have." That was true. "Mhh, indeed." Your hands moved to his ass, urging him to step closer. "Then show me again how much stamina you got."

#the ice flower au #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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