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fourraccoonsinacoat · 2 months

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Fall for Me | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit NSFW18+

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 8,048

Title: Fall for Me - Sleep Token

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 during Act 2. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge as Astarion realizes there's a depth to his feelings that he's been trying to deny. Tags: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character.

Author Note: Well…this got a bit out of hand. It started as me wanting to write about the moment Astarion realizes he's in deeper than he thought with this relationship, then morphed into me wanting to explore his headspace while being intimate, and then just devolved into absolute filth. I have no excuses. This fic precedes another of my fics called "Faint of Heart," which can be found on my account.

Astarion woke to a cold and suffocating darkness. A scent of wet decay hung in the air, eerily familiar, and all around him the silence screamed.

The night was distinctly void of the mundane sounds that had become commonplace during their journey. Even as they trekked through the Shadowlands towards Moonrise Towers, their nights usually bristled with distant howls and the whispers of skeletal trees as their limbs tangled and clacked in the wind. Now, however, there was nothing but a heavy and stifling quiet that set his nerves on edge. An anxious sense of wrongness stirred in his gut as he tried to get his bearings.

Where was he? Last he remembered, their group bedded down on the outskirts of an abandoned town called Reithwin. They intended to explore the decrepit buildings and shadowed ruins the next day as they pushed towards Moonrise.

Astarion sat up and blinked into the clawing darkness, squinting as if that would somehow bring the world around him into focus. Even with his darkvision, nothing manifested except the ever-expanding gloom all around him.

He ran a hand across the damp floor and shivered against the deep chill that engulfed him. He cast about for his belongings but found none, only a cracked tile floor slick with mildew and grime.

He heard a metallic clatter in the darkness as he shifted around and suddenly tuned in to a weight around his right ankle. An icy dread began to rise in his throat like bile as he hesitantly reached out and touched the shackle, fastened tight.

No…

Panic shot through his heart like a stake and his mouth went dry. He realized with a vile shock why he recognized the scent of old rot which saturated the air. It was the smell of stale rat blood mixed with years of filth and dirt.

He was back in the kennels. Back in Cazador’s grasp.

The realization nearly made him vomit as terror and confusion twisted in his stomach. Astarion hadn’t needed to breathe in over 200 years, and yet that didn’t stop his chest from tightening nor his lungs from seizing. Panic swept through him. He tried to gulp down air as a constricted and choking feeling pressed over him. Eyes wild, Astarion desperately tried to catch sight of something…anything in the relentless gloom.

How? Why? What in the hells had happened?

His mind wheeled, fueled by a horrifying sense of upheaval. He didn’t recall being attacked, but that didn’t change the situation he now found himself in.

He had to get out. He couldn’t be here. This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t right.

Except…it was. Because this was how his life had always been. He’d never escape. Never be free. Cazador would always find a way to drag him back. His master would never let go. He would always find Astarion, no matter how far he ran.

Thou shalt know that thou art mine.

Cazador’s fourth rule burned in Astarion’s mind, haunting and vicious. He stifled a sob, swallowing it back down and gritting his teeth until his jaw ached. He needed to figure out what had happened, because if he was here then…

Eli…

His stomach lurched as a fresh wave of dread nearly choked him. Where was Eli? If Cazador had been able to seize Astarion, had he taken her, as well? Guilt flooded his mind as it raced, trying to piece together some sequence of events that made sense. None of it seemed logical, but he was too panicked to dwell on the irrational nature of it all.

If Cazador had Eli…

But Cazador didn’t know, he couldn’t know…how Astarion felt about her. Hells, Astarion didn’t even understand his own emotions when it came to Eli. She was…something to him. More than nothing, so much more than nothing.

If Cazador had her…if he turned her…hurt her… Gods, what had Astarion done? He’d put a target on her, and of course Cazador would find her and take her. Because that was what he did. He destroyed anything that brought Astarion even a moment of happiness. How could he have been so stupid?

“Eli?” Astarion called quietly into the darkness, unable to mask the distress that clawed at his throat.

The voice that answered struck him numb with fear.

“Foolish boy. How easy it was to deceive your weak mind.” The cruel mockery in Cazador’s voice caused Astarion to flinch as if he’d been hit.

“What did you do with her?” Astarion hissed through bared teeth, dreading the answer.

“Nothing. Because she is nothing.” Cazador’s voice reverberated in the darkness as if he were everywhere at once.

Astarion didn’t understand whatever game his master was playing, and so he remained silent; shivering, though not as much from the cold as the trepidation.

“You’ve always possessed such a feeble mind, so easy to bend and break,” the voice bit from the shadows. “Did you honestly believe you’d escaped? That you’d been abducted? I planted such an absurd fantasy in your head that I had my doubts as to whether you would believe it. But your incompetence never ceases to entertain.”

Astarion’s eyes went wide and he froze like a prey animal that had only just sensed a trap. A slow, creeping horror slithered up his spine at the thought of what Cazador was insinuating.

“None of it was real, you pathetic little wretch. You’ve been here, the whole time, trapped in an illusion of my design.”

Astarion was going to be sick.

“I thought it was time to pull back the curtain, before you got too attached. To remind you that you are mine, and that will never change. Because who would want something as miserable as you?”

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to breathe, and yet he couldn’t. His throat burned with bile that came up from his churning stomach. Hot tears seared the corners of his eyes and his brain felt as if it were on fire.

It hadn’t been real… None of it… He’d never be free…

You are mine.

_______________________________

Astarion gasped awake, as if he were a man drowning who’d finally come up for air.

His chest heaved as sweat cooled against his skin in the night air. He rolled onto his side, coughing as the memory of vomit receded. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and wiped at the ones that had already trailed down his face.

Sitting up, Astarion shivered as the nightmare withdrew, glancing around his darkened tent anxiously as the ghost of Cazador loomed in his mind. He was alone, and though night in the Shadowlands was grim, it was not nearly as oppressive as the darkness in his dream.

A feeble hazy moonlight leaked through the murky tree canopy outside, casting a dim sheen through the pitch of night. Shadows bobbed and weaved on the walls of his tent, cast by drooping and swaying trees. The snarl of an animal sounded somewhere far off in the distance, and Astarion sighed as he tried to settle himself.

His nightmares were dipping into parts of himself he’d rather not acknowledge, preying on fears he wasn’t ready to face. He frowned, stomach knotting as residual feelings of fear and loss flashed through his mind like grease catching alight in a cook pan. He ran a hand through his white curls, recalling the anguish he’d felt in the depths of his dream. He’d felt so small. So fearful and alone. It made him restless.

Astarion stood and exited his tent, stepping into the chill of the night. Their campfire had burned to embers, the light barely able to cut through the murky darkness. The hour was either exceptionally late or achingly early, and the camp was still. Astarion was the only creature stirring in the gloom.

Memories, unbidden, jerked into his mind. Nights spent lurking in silent shadows, looking for a hapless target to bring back to the mansion. The endlessness of his putrid life was the only thing he thought lay before him. More decades of pain, torture and misery. The uncaring hopelessness of it all crushing every scrap of faith and every desperate prayer he had within until all that remained was a broken shell. Unfeeling and brittle.

He hated how wretched and pathetic he’d been. Used up and miserable. He never wanted to feel that way again. And so he fled from those memories, seeking distraction and solace, until he came to stand at the entrance to Eli’s tent.

Astarion paused just outside the mouth of the tent, apprehension twisting in his gut. He was being silly and foolish, he knew. Eli was fine. She’d be asleep in her bedroll and Astarion would feel like an idiot who’d allowed himself to get worked up over a godsdamn nightmare.

Gently, he pulled back the curtain that hung across the tent mouth and peered inside. As predicted, Eli was fast asleep with her back to the entrance. Astarion watched her shoulder rise and fall slowly as she breathed and felt the gnawing tension inside himself loosen its grip, just a bit.

Stupid. This was stupid. He was stupid. Gods, he wanted to hold her…

He wanted her to look at him like he meant something, like he was worth something. He wanted to lose himself in her, like that first night when they’d created their own pocket of nowhere. Free from Cazador and all of his miseries, free from the pain and the fear. Just them, wrapped up in hushed whispers and sweat and lust…and something else. Something different and needy and fragile. Something he’d never felt with anyone else.

“Astarion?” Eli’s voice pulled him back into the world and he blinked, focusing on her as she turned over to face him.

Of course she was awake. Eli’s sleep had become even more restless and fleeting since the night she’d woken him in a panic and he’d had to restrain her. He’d watched over her as she writhed, witnessing her loss of control as the thing within clawed for the surface. It had reminded him of how Cazador would wrest control of his spawn, forcing them to do as he commanded without resistance. He’d realized then that he feared losing her. That he cared and desperately wanted her to overcome whatever this monster was.

He was struggling with the realization, but that didn’t make the truth of it any less real.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Astarion spoke quietly, shaking his head as if that would rid his mind of its cluttered thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Without pausing to dissuade himself, he crawled forward into Eli’s tent and sat next to her bedroll. He had allocated absolutely zero thoughts to what he would say or do next, but that wasn’t necessarily uncommon for him these days. Things had been working out for him so far, so why shift strategy?

Eli sat up and watched him curiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, waving off the concern that was growing in her eyes. “I’ve just been unable to sleep, what with Gale one tent over and snoring like an ogre with swamp lung. So, considering our current arrangement, I thought I might share your tent for the remainder of the night.”

Astarion’s words flowed with well-practiced ease and charm, as if he hadn’t just made that entire excuse up on the spot. He smirked at Eli, who was still fixing him with a skeptical stare, and fought down the sudden anxiety that was rising in his chest and urging him to back out of the tent.

Eli had become rather versed in reading Astarion and it was something he had not quite come to terms with yet. On one hand, it stroked the egotistical part of him that desired attention and affirmation to have someone so attentive to him that they could peak behind the pomp and bluster he so often put forth. On the other hand, he felt as if a part of him was at risk of being snatched away or trapped if someone was able to pull back the roguish mask he’d so carefully crafted. He felt unbalanced, oscillating between moments of vulnerability with Eli and moments where he slammed his walls back in place.

A part of him wanted to tell her why he was really there. That the thought of her, the thought of them, not being real had shaken him to the point where he physically needed to see her. Just to put his mind at ease. He didn’t understand it, himself; the feeling that had driven him to seek her out after he woke. And so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t elaborate, fearing that Eli may think him rather pitiful.

Eli continued to watch Astarion, dubious yet silent, before she sighed and shrugged. “Alright then. If you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on, that’s fine,” she said, then patted the space next to her on the bedroll. “You’re always welcome, you know.”

Astarion felt a strange pang of…disappointment twist in his chest. He’d honestly expected Eli to press further for an explanation that wasn’t clearly pulled out of his ass. But she didn’t. It was disarming.

He moved to her side and situated himself as Eli laid back down. She watched him for a moment as he fluffed a pillow and settled, then she closed her eyes with a deep breath and said nothing more.

“Thank you,” Astarion said quietly as his eyes danced across her restful face.

He felt a sense of unease, unused to having his boundaries respected in such a way. Eli had never been the sort to prod at him for explanations, or to prod at anyone, for that matter. As someone with their own menagerie of secrets and internalized darkness, she tended to allow others the leeway to decide how much or how little they wanted to share. Still, they’d been…indulging in one another rather frequently these days, and Astarion was realizing that while their nights together were a lot of fun, he wanted something…more.

The problem was he hadn’t any idea what that “more” was. And gods did it frighten him. The last thing he wanted to do was give someone else control over him, not after he’d so recently regained a taste of freedom. Over the past 200 years, every relationship he’d ever been involved in had been nothing more than a means to an end with Astarion either playing the role of manipulator or the one being manipulated. Attachments were leverage, giving someone a hook they were able to dig their claws into in order to gain ground. Isolating himself from connecting with others was how he had survived.

And yet, as he watched Eli drift back into sleep, his eyes found her hand resting near her pillow. A longing came over him and, carefully, he reached out tentative and slow until his fingers brushed gently against her own, quietly connecting. Questioning.

Eli’s eyes opened, sleepy but curious. She watched his fingers lightly caressing her own, and with a small smile took his hand and tenderly wove her fingers in between his. Moments like this, made up of soft touches and careful affections, were becoming more common between them. And the intimacy of these moments never ceased to fascinate Astarion.

To Astarion, intimacy had always involved passion and lust. It was created in the pressed spaces between fervent bodies as they worked one another towards ecstasy. It was fleeting and vanished just as quickly as it emerged.

This, however…this was different. This was calm and soothing, and it lingered almost like a promise. Always available to be restoked and explored.

“I…” Astarion began, hesitating for only a second before he steeled himself and pressed on. “I dreamed I was back at the mansion. Back under Cazador’s control.” The name was spoken on the edge of a growl, his red eyes fixed on their joined hands.

He paused, thinking through what to say next, and Eli allowed him the silence to collect his thoughts and continue. “He mocked me,” Astarion spat. “Saying that all this was an illusion. That I hadn’t escaped. That you were an illusion.”

He glanced cautiously to her face, and when his eyes met hers, he found understanding there.

“Well, you came to the right tent,” Eli smiled, voice playful though not dismissive. “I’m something of an expert on nightmares. We can even compare notes, if you like.”

She squeezed his hand lightly and repeated his words from the night when he’d kept vigil over her as she fought against the dark madness within herself. It was unexpectedly touching and Astarion felt something twist where his dead heart was.

“As for whether or not I’m an illusion,” Eli said as she propped herself up on her elbows, slinking closer to him, eyes locked in to his own. “We can thoroughly investigate that claim, if you’d like,” she whispered, a sly question lingering in her gaze.

Astarion smirked, rising and leaning in to close the space between them. He untangled his fingers from her own and placed his hands on her shoulders, fulling intending to roll her to her back and ravish her while she squirmed beneath him. Astarion had come to Eli’s tent with no expectations beyond wanting her close, but he certainly wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to get even closer. They were good together. Really. Fucking. Good. And already desire was clouding over his mind as he bent to capture her mouth with his own. He had tasted her many times before, and yet every time they came together after a prolonged absence it felt fresh and raw. Rejuvenating and wild.

In all of his time as a thrall to his master, Astarion had never bedded the same person twice. Every night was a new conquest, new prey for him to stalk and tease until he’d gathered just enough information to get him through the evening and to get his target back to the mansion. The encounters always played out very tactically on his end as he gathered just enough surface-level drivel to ensure his quarry was seduced into the trap. Once Cazador came for his prize, Astarion would never see the poor wretches again, and that was fine by him.

With Eli, though, it was so different. There had been nothing tactical about any of it after that first night, and even during. The ecstasy of freedom, of choosing to give of himself rather than being forced, was intoxicating. They would explore one another, finding comfort in both familiarity and discovery, honing in on the things that drove the other mad and had them coming undone in the throes of rapture. They were becoming known to one another, intimately and completely. Perfecting and exploring and discovering every time they were together.

It was both enthralling and terrifying, being known like that. Being laid bare as Eli unraveled him just a bit further every time, uncovering parts of himself that had been left dormant and untouched for so long.

The anticipation of it all was already causing a firm swell to build below the waistline of his trousers as he pressed into the kiss. His tongue darted and teased at her lips, gently prodding between them and beckoning her closer. One of his hands had slipped to the small of her back as the other pressed into her shoulder, gently guiding her so that he could tuck Eli below him and crawl on top.

Eli, however, seemed to have other plans in mind and resisted his direction, pushing back into him and maneuvering the both of them until he was on his back with her legs straddling his waist. She never broke the kiss, rocking forward on her knees as she took his hand from her back and pinned it to the ground above his head, her fingers lacing in between his own. He growled into the kiss and playfully ghosted a fang over her bottom lip, causing her to hum needfully into his mouth.

And then her lips were gone, leaving only the hot impression of longing against his own as Eli trailed her lips from the corner of his mouth to the shell of his ear. Her breath was tantalizingly warm, brushing against the sensitive skin there, causing a shiver to course down his spine before it pulsated up into his firming dick. His free hand came to rest on her hip and he fingered mindlessly at the hem of her pants. He wanted her to sit back onto his groin so he could roll his hips up into her and rut his straining cock in between her legs. Hells, he wanted to be free of their clothes so he could sheathe himself inside her warmth and watch her ride him while he speared her over and over as she screamed his name until her throat was raw.

But then all thoughts and wants were lost to a white hot flash in his mind as Eli bit down on the tip of his ear, careful not to break skin but sharp enough to fire lightning off into his veins. His hips snapped up, needing to feel her as his cock throbbed. His left hand was still pinned above his head by one of hers, and he felt his nails digging at the skin of her knuckles while his right hand desperately tried to pull her hips down against him. He choked off a whine in the back of his throat and closed his eyes as his head rolled back against the ground.

She laughed breathily into his ear, and oh gods it was undoing him already. This was dangerous. She’d been paying attention, noting all the things that set him off and applying them expertly until she had him writhing. It was a wholly new experience for him and beneath his fervor and lust was a seed of trepidation.

When it came to sex, there had always been two ways the experience would play out. Either he would maintain control over the situation, or he would disassociate as his various partners had their way and used him to their satisfaction.

But this. This was new. And while it wasn’t unwelcome, the fact that she’d worked him into this position so easily was setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. He hadn’t realized how freely he’d given of himself these past few weeks, how far he’d let her explore and how attentively she’d done so.

How known he truly was.

And then she was letting go of his hand while her lips returned to his own, pressing soft and affectionate kisses into them. She carded a hand into his hair, careful to avoid his ear which was still tingling and overstimulated. He felt a shudder of both relief and disappointment roll through his body as the high passed, missing the sensuality and hunger of it all while relaxing into a more settled state of mind.

Astarion’s eyes were still closed, and the throbbing in his dick had not subsided. He felt her breath back at his ear, though not as close as it had been earlier.

“I just want to make you feel good,” he heard her whisper, sending sparks back through his veins. “Show me how.”

His eyes fluttered open to find hers gazing back at him, sweet and attentive. He felt her fingers twining through his hair and sighed contently, a small smile on his lips.

“You’ve been doing a magnificent job so far, darling,” he crooned before pulling her back down into another wanting kiss.

He smoothed his hands along her sides, repositioning her atop him until she was flush against him. He ran one hand down her spine, firm and slow, while the other gripped the back of her head, encouraging her to melt into him as their tongues explored each other’s mouths and their bodies squirmed, searching for friction. The hand at her back moved to squeeze her ass before he pressed her down against him, desperate for pressure against his groin.

“My only critique so far is there are entirely too many clothes between us,” he breathed against her lips. The hand on her ass gripped tight as he pressed and rubbed his thick erection into her hips, driving the point home.

“Allow me to remedy that,” Eli said with a quick kiss.

And then she was gone, hiking his shirt up and licking warm and wet kisses down his belly towards his waistline. Her hands were undoing the fastenings of his trousers and his head was beginning to spin with the implication.

That wasn’t… She didn’t have to…

He felt Eli slip her hands beneath his smallclothes and tug, pulling both his trousers and underwear down until his erection was free. He sighed from the relief, feeling the fullness bob and twitch expectantly. Eli was dragging her tongue down from his bellybutton towards his aching cock and fuck…he couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to do this for him.

His hand was in her hair, then, tugging gently for her to look up at him.

“That’s not what I was implying, my dear. You don’t have to…” Astarion’s protests trailed off when Eli’s eyes met his, full of lust and playful longing.

He’d sounded almost sheepish, even a bit apologetic, as a sting of guilt wormed its way into his gut. Astarion should be the one giving pleasure, that was how these things always went. That was what he was good at…what his master had made him for…

The thought struck out at him unbidden with a nasty sense of shock and disgust. Cazador had created him for the pleasure of others, taking every opportunity to viciously remind him that what he wanted and how he felt never mattered. It was a belief that had been bolted to his soul after decades of torment, and one it seemed he still carried, even when he wasn’t in his master’s grasp.

“Astarion,” Eli said, softly pulling him out of his spiraling.

He blinked and refocused on her as she pressed her lips gently against the taunt skin over his hip bone, drawing an eager hiss from between his teeth as his dick jerked. Images of her mouth around him, warm and so godsdamn wet and tight, were firing off in his brain and…fucking hells, when had he fallen so completely for her?

“Right now, in this moment, nothing would make me happier than to get you down my throat and thoroughly satisfy you.” Eli smirked at him, hands on his bare thighs and lips a mere breath away from his cock, red and full and beginning to leak.

Her eyes were glittering with a mischief that was intoxicating, but there was affection there, too, soothing and comforting. He shivered, furiously trying to shut his brain down as thoughts collided in explosions of need, guilt and desire.

He’d thought himself so smart, charming and seducing her into his bed. Laying a trap and then walking her into it with such confidence and glee, only for him to find himself just as ensnared. He’d used her, manipulated her, and then drowned himself in her and gods above, if he didn’t want to do it again and again.

“But if that’s not what you want…” He stiffened at Eli’s words, catching the undercurrent of concern in her voice as she shifted and began to move back up his body.

He stopped her, sliding his hand from out of her hair to cup her cheek while he brushed a few silvery strands from her eyes with the other. Now was decidedly not the time for him to have an internal crisis of feelings. Not in the middle of the night with his dick out, pants halfway down his legs and Eli saying such obscene and beautiful things to him. There’d be time for personal reflection later.

He wanted this. Wanted her.

“I want it.” He almost felt embarrassed at the raw desire that slipped through his voice, heavy and breathy. “Gods, you have no fucking idea how much…”

He stopped himself before he could elaborate more and completely mortify himself.

“It’s just been a long time since anyone offered,” he concluded. He wouldn’t admit he couldn’t remember the last time someone had pleasured him like that.

Eli considered him for a moment, expression thoughtful, and for a brief moment of panic Astarion wondered if she had changed her mind. About him and about all of this. But then her lips twitched up into a tender smile and he felt his soul shudder.

“Please.” Astarion breathed.

Eli ghosted a few featherlight kisses near the base of his cock before whispering, “Well, when you ask so sweetly…”

And then her mouth was on him and Astarion’s head rolled back as he made a noise he was entirely too obliterated to be ashamed of.

She took only the tip at first, sucking down onto the head as her lips slid back and forth over the swollen ridge. Her pace was slow, and it was both agonizing and exhilarating. His thighs clenched as a heavy pressure throbbed deep in his groin, sending shivers and tingles spasming out through his legs and up into his belly. His hand was back in her hair, grabbing and encouraging, careful to not be forceful, while his other hand fisted the bedroll.

He both heard and felt Eli laugh low in her throat, the vibrations of it tingling down his shaft and setting his nerves on fire. He’d managed to kick his trousers off, spreading his legs apart so she could nestle between them and absolutely destroy him.

Eli began sucking him down further, slowly sheathing himself into her mouth. He shut his eyes, growling as her warmth and spit enveloped him. He responded by hitching his hips up into her, wanting more, wanting her full of him. He felt her hands on his hips, directing him to rock up into her mouth at a languid pace. He fell into the rhythm, fucking into the suction. She flattened her tongue, applying pressure along his shaft every time he thrusted in before dragging her tongue tip along the sensitive skin when he pulled out.

The growl in his throat grew into a lewd moan that shamelessly filled the tent, leaving no one who was awake in camp to wonder about what was taking place. He could not have cared any less about who heard, and in fact he welcomed it. Let them all listen as Eli, savior of the Druid’s Grove, conqueror of Grymforge and scourge of the Absolute went down on him and fucked him senseless with her perfect fucking mouth. He was the only one she’d do this to, the only one she’d pleasure. No one else got to experience this, see her like this.

He was hers.

The thought set off a wave of arousal so potent that he felt his cock spasm in response, leaking precum that Eli’s tongue then swirled across his tip as he continued to rut into her. The pressure between his legs was mounting as a possessive and greedy emotion seized him.

“Darling…oh gods, darling, not yet…” Astarion wasn’t going to last like this, but he was not ready to be undone. Not yet.

He opened his lust-blown eyes and a feral groan tumbled out of him at the sight of Eli between his legs, sweaty and fervent and his. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin and encouraged her off his dick. Her eyes met his and the mixture of arousal and craving in her dilated pupils slammed into him so hard his chest hitched.

Nobody looked at him like that. Ever.

He needed more.

Wordlessly, he pulled her up to him and their mouths crashed together in a wild and wanton kiss that was all tongues and teeth. He could taste himself on her, salty and pungent and it drove him mad.

They only separated for a moment as Astarion pulled Eli’s shirt up and over her head before removing his own. Then, they were tumbling back onto the bedroll, Astarion still pinned beneath Eli as their hands greedily explored one another.

He began fumbling with the buttons of Eli’s pants, the last barrier between them, and licked into her mouth as she moaned desperately into their bruising kiss. She was writhing on top of him, bent over him and straddling his bare torso as her hips rolled against him shamelessly. Undoing the buttons, he slipped his hand beneath her underwear and ran a teasing finger between the lips of her swollen clit.

Eli whined and gasped as his touch and Astarion laughed with wicked mirth, gliding his finger back and forth between her wet folds but never going deeper. She was soaked, worked up into a frenzy and it emboldened his ego to no end.

“I didn’t realize sucking on my cock could make you so wet,” he purred with no small amount of self-satisfaction.

His finger traced a circle along the rim of her pulsating clit, earning a high-pitched moan that shuddered out of her throat and went straight to his dick. She tried to reposition herself, needing his fingers in places they weren’t.

He grinned at her distress, earning a reproachful bite to his lower lip that did nothing to dissuade him.

“Less working your mouth and more working you – oh fuck!” Eli cried out as Astarion pushed two fingers up into her, burring them deep.

She bolted upright, arching her back as her mouth fell open and her head fell back, a slew of profane and needful curses tearing from her throat. He felt her clamp down on his fingers, hands pressing on his chest for balance as she brazenly rode his fingers.

He gazed up at her as his fingers stroked and hooked at her throbbing walls, causing little twitches and spasms to filter throughout her body. Her skin glistened in the foggy moonlight that seeped in through the walls of the tent, sweat-slicked breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips as her head lolled, eyes shut reverently as she worked to satisfy herself. His dick bobbed against his belly with each roll of her hips, and he could feel a warm trail of precum rolling down the edge of his hip. His erection was so stiff it verged on painful, and when he felt her walls begin to flutter around his fingers, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his hand back from within her core and the gasping whine that erupted from her lips nearly choked him.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he crooned, wrapping an arm around her back as he braced himself with the other and sat up. “Bear with me for just a moment. I dare not make you wait any longer.”

Astarion tipped her back and laid her down, yanking both her pants and underclothes off in a swift motion. He settled his hips between her legs, the head of his cock pressing agonizingly at her entrance.

He hovered above her for a moment, drinking her in. She was a gorgeous mess, eyes blown wide with craving and skin flushed hot and pink. Her chest was heaving as she gazed up at him with a look that would have stopped his heart if it weren’t already still. Adoration beamed back at him as she smiled and Astarion felt a twisting deep in his chest.

He knew then, with absolute certainty, that whatever was between them was so much more than anything he had planned for it to be. It terrified and amazed him. Welling up emotions within himself he wasn’t sure how to grasp or understand. He didn’t want to hide from it, though. He’d been hiding and skulking and manipulating for too long.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Astarion bent down, kissing Eli deep and longingly. Hoping that even just a shred of what he felt could be communicated through the embrace. She sighed into it, eyes closing and hands carding into his hair before they slid down to his back. He shivered as her fingers traced tenderly over the scars there, careful and deferential.

Breaking the kiss, he hooked an arm under her left leg and rested it up on his shoulder, pressing it forward and stretching her apart. Lining himself up to her warm core, he rested his forehead against her own and felt her squirm impatiently beneath him.

“Fuck, Astarion, please.”

That was all it took. He pushed inside of her, body shuddering at the enveloping and soft warmth. He felt his abdomen clench, waves of arousal rocketing down his legs and up his spine as he sank into her to the hilt. Astarion groaned, pulling back before he buried himself again, then again, then again. Eli gasped with each thrust, arching her back and angling her hips for a better position. The leg he’d pulled over his shoulder tensed and squeezed, pressing down on him as he snapped his hips up and into her. A low growl rose up, unbidden, from his throat. He was throbbing and needy and she felt so fucking good. Warm, wet and tight as he pressed into her walls and felt her contract around him. Their eyes were locked in and a rapturous shudder ran the length of his spine as Eli’s face contorted in ecstasy, her mouth opening in a silent and delirious cry.

He pulled back again. Her eyes were begging. Another thrust, making her back arch up as she bucked her hips into him, needing him deeper.

He was entranced with her face and the raw longing he saw there. He plunged in again, drawing a high squeal from her that turned into a breathy rasp as she closed around him and shook against his body. Her eyes never left his, and he drank in every mewl and cry as she looked at him with so much affection and craving that Astarion was tempted to duck his head and hide from the level of vulnerability she was giving him.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. No one else got to see this. No one else would see Eli – hero, warrior, leader, fledgling legend that she was – shivering and squirming underneath him as he pumped into her. This was all for him, and him alone.

She was falling apart, losing herself in the thrill and the ecstasy, every sob for more spurring him on as he stared into her enthralled eyes. Her hands were everywhere, desperately running up and down and all over, clutching and pulling him closer while she pushed at the small of his back, directing his thrusting pace into one she could match with euphoria-inducing turns and twists of her hips.

The wild and undone look in her eyes coupled with the unrelenting throbbing of his cock was near enough to drive him mad. Electric jolts shot down his legs from his groin with every plunge, and his muscles felt as if they would seize at any second. It felt amazing. She felt amazing, and gods she was looking at him like he was the gravitational pull of the universe. It tore at his seams and pulled a centuries-old ache from his dead heart.

He wanted to be someone to her. Someone important. Someone she needed.

It was agonizing and frightening, that feeling. The last time he’d even remotely felt anything near to it, he’d been locked away and isolated in a coffin for over a year. Punishment for such sentimental wretchedness.

Astarion grit his teeth, clawing his way back from the memory and pushing it all down. Those were things left for later. Not now. Not when Eli was crying out and babbling about how incredible he felt, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss that he swore was going to set him on fire.

The pressure was building between his legs again as every muscle below his chest began to tense. His mind fixated on the lewd and wetly rhythmic sounds coming from between them and he could feel her slick arousal all over his groin and lower torso. His mind began fuzzing, triggered by all the erotic sounds and the building stimulation threatening to explode in his core.

He wanted this. He wanted to feel her cum beneath him. He wanted to feel himself truly and completely let go for the first time in centuries.

He pulled back from their kiss, the hair on his neck pricking in response to the small whine that left Eli’s throat as he did so.

He continued to pound into her, hard and measured, dick pulsating inside of her as the buildup became nearly unbearable. Beyond the pounding of blood in his ears he could hear himself grunting with each thrust, deep and animalistic and so fucking needy as the delirium mounted all around them.

Astarion leveled his eyes with Eli’s, face hovering above hers, and smiled at the unabated and desperate look she was giving him.

“Do you really want me that badly, darling?” he asked, panting and nearly out of his mind with wonder at the sheer amount of desire coursing between them.

There was no teasing in his question, no flirtatious overtones or hidden meanings. He needed to know.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the world narrowed.

“Gods, Astarion, I want all of you,” Eli nearly cried, arms tightening around him as she came near to climax. “Not just this,” she moaned, pressing her face into his neck as her back arched off the ground. She was shaking she was so close.

“I want you with me,” she whined into his ear and the desperation in her words was intoxicating. “In all the ways that matter,” she continued, her voice raw and teetering on the edge of bliss. “…with me. Please!”

Astarion clung to her like a man drowning, eyes closed and face pressed into her hair. The scent of her was everywhere and he reveled in the frantic intimacy of the moment, blindly grabbing at her upturned hips and bottoming out into her with a force that sent lightning zipping through his veins and stars bursting behind his eyelids.

The pressure between his legs released and Astarion came with all the subtlety of a smokepowder barrel blowing alight, all the muscles in his legs and lower torso seizing and relaxing in bursts.

“Gods, Eli. Fuck!” he cried out against her, swept up in the climax as the world fell away.

Eli followed, her inner walls contracting around him, bolstering his orgasm as she shuddered and cried out for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed tight, wanting him full and solid as she came with him inside.

Astarion moved his hips in a circular motion, gentle and sensual, letting Eli ride out the last of her orgasm as the both of them came down. They were a tangle of arms, legs, sweat and ragged breath, neither willing to let go of the other as a hush fell over the tent. They rested in the quiet, laying in each other’s arms, content in the intimate sense of togetherness. He could feel her racing heart beat beneath her skin as he rested his head under her chin, her pulse lulling him into a comfortable daze. The scent of the blood in her veins was hot and sweet and he reveled in the thrum of life that surrounded her. A life he was growing more and more attached to…

Suddenly, Eli snorted and Astarion’s eyes snapped open curiously. He lifted his head and quirked a brow down at her as she tried and failed to suppress a fit of giggling. He tensed, unsure and more than a little confused by her bizarre response to what he thought had been a rather exhilarating experience.

She squeezed his bicep reassuringly, a delighted grin settling on her face.

“Sorry,” she laughed quietly. “I was just thinking, there’s no way anyone in this camp is still sleeping. We’re going to have to apologize in the morning.”

Astarion’s eyes softened as the corner of his mouth twitched up fondly. He then made a show of rolling his eyes before he buried his face back into her neck.

“You are quite mad, aren’t you?” he mumbled, unable to keep a smile out of his words. “I’ll go to my second grave before I apologize for what we just did.”

_______________________________

The sounds of muffled shuffling outside the tent woke Astarion the next morning. He tracked the sound with his ears, unwilling to open his eyes and rouse himself from his sleepy haze.

Eli lay pressed up against him in his arms, her head nestled near his chest. He’d pulled a blanket over them at some point during the night in an effort to retain the warmth coming off her body. Considering his undead nature, he could only sap her body heat from her, rather than contribute to it, and that fact bothered him a bit more now than it had in the past.

He traced a finger lazily across her back, feeling the ridges and divots of multiple angry scars she had no memory of earning. Eli’s body was a war story, just as damaged as her broken mind with twisted scarring and gnarled blemishes that held their secrets close. They were the remnants of a brutality that was difficult to reconcile with the person he’d come to know Eli as, and it made her all the more beautiful for it.

He didn’t mind her brokenness, and he was comforted by her imperfection. He knew all to well what it was like to be torn open over and over…

The clang of a cookpot being hoisted over the camp’s fire caused him to flinch, and Eli stirred, yawning into his bare chest.

Astarion opened his eyes, blinking as they focused in the gloom. Early morning shadows crept along the walls of the tent and he could now hear Gale’s distinct and nervous muttering as the wizard went about his morning routine, preparing coffee and some manner of breakfast near the center campfire. There was another voice, too, hushed and careful, as if the speaker didn’t want to be overhead.

“Oh, would you two stop squawking like a pair of gossipy hens!” Karlach’s voice boomed out over the hushed muttering, both scolding and amused in tone. “You both are just jealous it wasn’t either of you causing that racket last night. Hells knows I am,” she bemoaned.

“Is that what Gale and Wyll are prattling on about?” Lae’zel’s voice barked from over near her tent. “Sex can provide excellent relief from the stresses of our chaotic situation. It is both a healthy and helpful activity, though I am assuming neither of you have much familiarity with its benefits considering how you chatter like scandalized adolescents.”

Eli cut off a laugh in the back of her throat and Astarion smirked.

Gale and Wyll had begun to boisterously protest before Karlach interrupted, clearly directing her next statement in the direction of Eli’s tent.

“They might as well get out here so we can properly taunt them for not inviting any of us!”

Eli rolled onto her back then sat up, shrugging the blanket off and arching her spine in a fluid stretch, arms raised. Wordlessly, she then bent down, kissing him with a tenderness that made his chest ache, before she leaned away and stood, beginning to dress.

“Sorry, Karlach, but I draw the line at superheated engine that could melt my face off and angry unstable bomb that could level a small city when considering who I sleep with.” Eli pulled her shirt over her head and turned to wink at him before she unfastened the tent flap and stepped out into camp.

Karlach’s boisterous laughter greeted her and Astarion frowned as the tent flap fell back into place, leaving him alone with thoughts he needed to sort through.

Denial wasn’t going to work any longer. And gods, was he in trouble.

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broke-art · 3 months

Text

Macaque x Fangirl reader

"You must be my biggest fan." The hooded storyteller leaned down next to your seat. "I hope that journal isn't to steal my stories." He gestures to the open notebook in your lap.

"What?! No! No of course not." You promised hurriedly. "Your stories are so good but, they're yours. I couldn't tell them half as well. No I'm-" paused trying to collect your thoughts. You certainly had been taking notes but not to steal anything. It's just the story reminded you so much of someone.

The hooded figure smiled indulgently.

"And who is that?" He asked clearly meaning the sketches next to your notes.

Some heat flared to life in your cheeks.

"Oh that is my depiction of the six earred Macaque." You explained ensuring to keep your eyes glued to the journal. "He was the brother of the monkey king? Played a super important role." You rambled. "Actually your story reminds me of-" the words died in your throat as you saw his grin slowly turn into a slight frown.

"You.....you know about the six earred Macaque?" He said slowly.

You nodded slightly.

"He's my favorite. It's really unfortunate how he died." You mumbled with a shrug.

The figure seemed to flinch a bit but when you looked at him he pasted on a grin that felt a touch forced.

"Sooo....you're a fangirl?"

A blushed burned at your cheeks and you tensed.

"I wouldn't call it that!" You shook your head adamantly.

The figure chuckled.

"Hey it's nothing to be ashamed about. Although-" He sat next to you thoughtfully touching a hand to his chin. "Why does my story remind you of him?"

You blinked.

"Uhm well it's pretty well known that when Sun wukong and Macaque parted ways it wasn't under the most...ahem....amiable conditions."

For a moment you thought you heard the man mutter under his breath, 'No kidding' But you couldn't be sure.

"But Macaque was still pretty renowned in his own way and when they did work together they were virtually unstoppable!" You slipped into explanations and gushed about how cool you believed the monkey brothers were.

That was until your own brother ran into the theater.

"Y/n! I can't find Mei or the others any-" He stopped short suddenly and summoned his staff.

"Macaque. I should have known."

"Wha-"

"Get away from my sister. Now." M.k growled twirling the staff.

A low chuckle sounded behind you making you stiffen and slowly turn.

The man pulled back the hood to reveal a black monkey with purple eyes and a wicked grin.

"Ohohoho sister huh?" He looked at you with a risen brown and you felt your gut twist in knots.

"So... Fangirl." He addressed you stepping towards you. "Ready to meet the real deal?"

"I said-" Gold flared around M.k just before he launched at Macaque. "Get back!"

You screamed and raised your arms as purple and gold magic clashed and the resulting sonic blast threw you back into the bleachers.

"Careful there, bud." Macaque's mockery reached you just as your shadow morphed under you. "Wouldn't want someone to get hurt !"

At the last word the shadow opened a portal in the floor.

With a gasp you reached for M.k as you fell only to see him lunge for you.

"Y/N!" He shouted only for his fingertips to just brush your own before the world vanished into a void of black.

You came to with a groan touching a hand to your head.

"M.k you've got some explaining to do." Pigsy groused somewhere in the background as you got your bearings. Slowly, as the world righted yourself you spotted your journal.

You picked it up carefully as M.k dashed out the doors for some unknown reason. You flicked through the pages and froze on your latest page.

'To my biggest fan. Thanks for coming to the show. Was nice to hear someone remembers me. ' - Macaque.

You blinked and despite yourself you smiled slowly. Perhaps you really were a fangirl.

#lego monkie kid #lego red son #lmk #jttw #jttw sun wukong #jttw wukong #lego monkie king #lego #lego nezha #redson #lmk monkie kid #lmk mei #lmk mk #lmk macaque #lmk monkey king #lmk macaque x reader #lmk six eared macaque #macaque x reader #six eared macaque

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Three for One 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Tis the sleazins

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You keep the small lamp next to the bed on through the night. You slip into a shallow doze, aware of Ernie’s deep breaths and your ears' thrum in the silence of the room. After hours of this, you finally dip beneath the threshold of true sleep. The deep sort that blocks out even dreams. You are thoughtless in the void.

A swirling sensation comes over you. A subconscious dizziness that weighs down your body. The achy paralysis of an all consuming fatigue.

The layers of your unconscious slake away one by one. Your breathing picks up, your eyes roll beneath their lids, your body tingles as your senses return to you. Little by little, you float towards reality.

It’s as if you’re being tugged between two forces. The dregs of your exhaustion battle with a sharp plucking you can’t place. Your voice tickles your ears, bringing you closer to the world. Your lashes flutter as you moan, a tremor between your thighs as heat brews in your pelvis.

Your eyes snap open and your head pops up. You choke as your dry throat catches the scream that rises from your lungs. First at the memory of where you are, then at the sight of the body between your thighs. The shoulders that keep you splayed as he man bows his head to your cunt.

You try to holler but again it shrivels to a pathetic whine. His tongue smothers your resistance as he laps at your clit, swiping and suckling, playing with you expertly. You fall back and grasp the pillow, back arching instinctively into him.

He chuckles, the noise rippling into you as his fingertips brush up your thigh. Rubbing and tracing along the flesh, closer and closer to their price. Your gasp as he feels along your folds, gliding between them as he hums and tastes, drinking up the pleasure slickens your lips.

He rolls your bud between his teeth playful as he prods at your entrance. He pushes, threatening to slide inside, then pulls back, roving up between your folds and down again. He does this again and again, each time sending a tide rattling through you.

He snickers and pushes a single finger into you. Easily sliding into his lowest knuckle, curling his finger as he tests your limits. He extends his finger again, measuring your depth and eases it out. This time, he aligns two thick digits and shoves them into you, a fiery stretch radiating into your stomach.

There’s that stubborn voice telling you to push him away, to kick and hit, to do anything but let him keep going. You can’t. It’s delectable. The short trim of hair on his lip adds just enough friction to make you writhe. How can someone so repugnant make you feel so good? Almost as good as your pulse vibrator.

You swing your hand down and latch onto his hair. You fist the strands as you put your other palm to the shave sides. You buck your hips, trying to control his rhythm as he slides in and out of you. He snarls as he wiggles his head, purring as he laps you up.

You feel your orgasm twisting and twisting. The tension knots in your muscles and curls your toes. It has you quiver as you shove his head down and moan. Your walls squeeze his fingers as a gush flows out around his knuckles.

He snickers and keeps going. You puff and push on his head as his tending grows overbearing. You try to roll him away from you but he pins you flat. He rams in as deep as he can, pressing against the sensitive ridge just behind your entrance.

You squeal and shake. Oh god, it’s too much. You don’t even think it’s him. It’s just the effort. It’s been a while since you were with a man who did more than wander aimlessly around your cunt.

He seals his lips around your clit and sucks. The pressure is immaculate. It swells and your climax spills over again. You drag your hands away from his head and brace the bed. You get lost in the whirlwind of your own pleasure.

He pops his mouth off of you. You spasm as your head lolls. You look down at him, unable to close your legs as he stays nestled between them. His mustache glistens from your stolen delight.

“Like that, kitten?” He winks.

“Wha…” you garble and push yourself up on your elbows. He keeps his fingers in you, wiggle them until you squeak.

“Those other dicks won’t treat you like a nine course buffet,” he rocks his hand at an easy tempo, “mmmm,” his eyes flick down to your cunt as he watches himself finger you, “Merry fucking Christmas, huh?”

“Wh- where–” you can hardly think straight. Something’s off, something’s missing. Is this some demented dream?

You flinch as a beep comes from the other side of the door. He doesn’t react or stop. The mechanism whirs back and the door opens. You drop your head and hide under your arm in shame before you can see who it is.

“What the fuck?” The other man exclaims, “Lloyd, get off her–”

“Breakfast, most important meal of the day,” he chuckles as his breath dances over your cunt and he leans in again. Before he can meet your cunt, he’s pulled away, his hand ripped unceremoniously from between your legs.

“This isn’t what we agreed on,” Andy snarls.

“Keep saying it and I might fucking care,” Lloyd retorts.

You close your legs and bend them as you pull down your skirt. You push yourself up against the pillows, folding yourself as small as you can as you stare at the men’s shoulders. Andy has Lloyd by the front of his black turtleneck as Lloyd grips his forearms in turn.

Andy inhales deeply and lets it out through his nose. He peeks over at you as you put your palms to your cheeks. You give a sheepish look, averting your eyes to the bedspread.

“Outside.”

Andy tries to move Lloyd. He can’t. The men stare each other down. The latter scoffs and shoves the other’s hands off his collar. The part, squaring their shoulders and posturing like animals.

Not a word passes between them as Lloyd raises his two fingers, “let me just get cleaned up.”

He sucks his fingers clean and you grimace, turning your head to hide behind your eyelids. He snickers again and a sole scuff before footfalls trail out the door. Another deep breath and another pair of steps pace away. The door closes and you’re left to silent confusion.

You look around the room as more of the previous night pieces together. You bounce to the edge of the bed in a sudden panic as you look around. Ernie!

You hear a scratch, then another, and a puff of nostrils. You spin to face the small door on the opposite side of the room. You round the bed and turn the handle, finding both your dog and an en suite bathroom.

“Oh, Ern, thank god,” you bend to hug him around the neck. He smells like bacon. You stand as you pat his head; he must’ve been lured in by the delicious cured meat. “Silly.”

You drag your hand away and turn to the room. You look around as you consider your options. There aren’t many. That door is locked and the walls are soundproof. You’re not going to be saved by some miracle hero. You’re also not going to fight off three men for much longer. Not through brute strength.

Give a little, get a lot. This isn’t a typical fight. It’s three against one. You’re outnumbered. You can’t win alone, but you also won’t gain any allies. There is something they say about that; the enemy of my enemy…

You go to the tall wardrobe and open the door. You pick out a red sweater dress with bell sleeves that ends just across your thighs. With it, you take a pair of similarly coloured panties; a thong but the least skimpy of the collection. You also grab a pair of black knee socks to keep your toes warm.

Ernie goes to the door and lays down in front of it. He’s always your little guard. Wherever you are, he puts himself between you and any entrance. He’s like a furry knight.

You go into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. You flip on the light and take in the space. A typical bathroom; a shower with a completely transparent wall, shining counters, and a porcelain toilet beneath a silver set of shelves.

There’s a towel on the bar. You put the clothes on the closed toilet and undress. You crank on the shower and wait for the booth to fog up. You step inside and let the heat soak into you. It’s almost comforting, as much peace as you’ll find in this place.

You use that moment to think. You don’t have a clear plan. You can’t have one but you have an idea. As much as you can barely stand those men, they would say the same of each other. You can use that.

You use the body soap in the bottle with the cupcake as a cap. You smell like a candle as you rinse off. You turn off the flow of water and turn to the door. You push it open and step onto the mat, stopping short as you find someone waiting on the other side.

Andy sputters as his eyes rove up and down your body. You cross your arms, and hand over your pelvis as you gasp and shy away. He clears his throat and snatches the towel off the bar, holding it out as his eyes skim the ceiling.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to scare you–”

“It’s fine,” you assure him as you accept the towel and cover yourself. You gotta get your shit together. You have to let them think they have you cornered but you can’t really get yourself stuck. “I was just cleaning up, I’m sorry. I… I should’ve asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assures you, “I should be sorry. About Lloyd. He shouldn’t have… just barged in.”

“Oh, uh…” you look away. You’re genuinely embarrassed.

“He likes to do whatever he wants. Not anymore. I’ll make sure of that, honey. If he pulls anything, I want you to tell me, can you do that?”

You turn back to him. You meet his eyes. You see the strain around them. He’s fighting not to look down.

“Sure,” you agree.

“Good,” he says, “I…” He glances around, “I should let you get dressed. When you’re ready, you can come out and join us.”

“Okay,” you smile and sway back and forth, “Andy?”

He looks at you, his eyes alight, “yes, honey?”

“You said you won’t let them hurt me, right?”

He nods, his face softening, “I won’t.”

You let your lips tremble and squeeze the top of the towel, “promise?”

“I promise,” he assures you. “You’re precious to me. I…” he swallows, “I wouldn’t have done all this if you weren’t.”

“I… you’re right, it is a lot,” you go to the sink and look in the mirror before taking a bottle of expensive cream from the shelf over the toilet. You read the label, “you know, I could never afford this on my own. Ninety-five dollars an ounce.”

“I know,” he drones, “it’s why I got it for you.”

“You?” You hold onto the small tube as you peek at him.

“The others… they helped me get you. That’s it. Everything else, I did. For you.”

“That’s so sweet,” a tremor breaks through your voice, an unintended affect.

“Let me know if I missed anything,” he inches back slowly, “if you need… anything.”

“I will,” you turn back to your reflection. You know he doesn’t mean anything. If you asked him to take you home, you don’t think he’d listen.

You wait for him to go. You only realise when he’s gone that you really are shaking. You’re afraid. Even if these men are dumb, they scare you. You have to be very careful.

🎀

When you’re dressed, you find the door open, waiting for you. You go down the hall as you hear a commotion. Ernie’s paws tap on the floor as he wiggles in his pre-meal dance. He must be so hungry!

He drools as he threatens to jump up at Ransom who holds the open bag of kibble in his arms. You know by the torn top that it’s the very same from your cupboard. He fights to keep from spilling as he’s corned by the Saint Bernard.

“He’s going to bite me!” He yells.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Lloyd appears in the doorway, “you got one job, the dog food. So feed the damn dog.”

“You feed it,” Ransom slams the bag down on the table against the wall, “just watch your fingers.”

Ransom holds up his bandaged hand; Ernie’s work. You almost laugh. You’re proud of your boy.

“Ah, hello, pussy cat,” Lloyd turns his attention on you, “look who’s up from her cat nap.”

You blink at him dumbly. He smirks smugly and winks, pointing at you with two fingers. Those two fingers. You shudder.

“I can feed him,” you offer. “He needs a bowl.”

You head for the front room but Lloyd is quick to block you as he stretches his arm across the expanse of the hallway, “I’m still a bit peckish, can I get something to eat?”

You cringe and back up. Ransom comes closer as Ernie’s distracted by the bag of kibble, his nose pressed to the side. You gulp as the men zero in on you.

“She tastes like honey,” Lloyd comments, “you want some? I’ll bend her over and you can go through the back, huh?”

Ransom snickers as he steps up next to Lloyd, “how do you know?”

Lloyd growls and tilts his head, “how do you think?”

“How the fuck did you get away with that?”

“I didn’t,” Lloyd sneers, “Mr. Bossy Pants spoiled the meal.”

“Uh, oh, please, I… it’s Christmas,” you show your palms, “so I think we should, er–”

“It’s Christmas so why don’t you give us a present?” Ransom grins, “got a couple I can think of under that sweater.”

“I– but Andy–”

A sudden crash and scatter makes you all flinch. The men turn and you look between them to find Ernie tearing into the bag of kibble. You rush forward, elbowing the men as you race towards him. You pull him back by the collar, barely able to keep him from pigging out.

“Please, he needs a bowl,” you plead, “he’s on a controlled diet.”

“He’s a dog,” Lloyd sniffs.

“Yeah? And you gave him bacon!” You accuse.

“What’s going on?” Andy appears from the front room.

“Great,” Lloyd grumbles.

“Stupid dog,” Ransom snarls, “that’s what’s going on.”

“Honey,” Andy ignores them, rushing to you, “are you okay?”

“No,” you pout, “if he eats too much, he’ll be sick.”

“Aw, it’s okay,” he rubs you back through the sweater. You note how eager he is to touch you. “I’ll clean up, you get him in the kitchen.”

“I’ll go with her,” Lloyd offers, “there’s knives in there.”

“Ransom,” Andy grits and rescinds his hand as he turns to glare at Lloyd, “you can take her.”

The other two men stare each other down, just like before. That argument isn’t over and you’re not sure it ever will be. Whatever their plan is doesn’t seem to be going as they expected. You can only hope that it doesn’t.

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clovercoin · 6 months

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Proship is not a dirty word

I just want to SCREAM! Proship is not a dirty word or label! It doesn't mean anything BAD! It doesn't mean you're pro-real life abuse, kinks, whatever nonsense people come up with. It's just a silly internet term to show support for people to make fanart and fanfics! Whatever fiction people make, cute sfw stuff, sexy fun stuff, or the dark and painful stuff! It's ALL GOOD STUFF! It all deserves to exist! "But what about..." YES ALL OF IT. ALL OF IT DESERVES TO BE MADE AND EXIST IF THE CREATORS WANT TO MAKE IT. We do not know why people create the things they do. But I know some people need a voice and fiction is the only way they can be heard. It is up to ourselves to curate our online experience using website features like block and mute. Use websites that don't host art you don't want to see. To this day I am still getting abusive messages. People send me anonymous compliments or delete their public messages of support to me to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. I have no idea what I have done to earn this ire. I have no way to face it. No one left to help. I just have to scream into the void. Please protect fiction. We all need it. We all desperately need it now more than ever. No matter how much hate mail you send me or public call outs you post about me, I will scream this from the top of my lungs that you are WRONG. AJD . ART

#CloverCoin #AJferret #AJ ferret #ferret #ferrets #fursona #fursonas #sona #sonas #Furry #Furries #Anthro #Anthros #Anthropomorphic #proship #proshipping #proshipper #profic #profiction #prokink

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newlynova · 5 months

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MDNI. every night you wake up in a cold sweat— arms and legs too heavy to move, tongue weighed down by blocks of cement. you can barely breathe on your own, stale air trapped in your lungs as the glowing eyes in the shadow of your bedroom watch you squirm. pinned under by the weight of darkness, it seems that the demon in the corner of your room wants to give you more of a reason to squirm. cw void!stiles stilinski, sleep paralysis, somnophilia, dubcon. 1k.

"you're finally awake, hm?" a low voice breathed into your ear, the ghost of a fingertip brushing along the thin strap of your tank top. their touch was cold, sending an uncontrollable shiver down your spine as their fingers danced along the length of your chest.

"but not truly, are you? if you were… you'd be recoiling from me in disgust, you'd be screaming," they gave a sharp tug on your spaghetti strap, pulling on the elastic band far enough that when released, it made a harsh smack against your skin, the pain from the snap would have made you wince, would have at least prompted a scared whimper from your lips. but, you could barely make a sound— your limbs betraying you, laying uselessly by your side.

the edge of the bed dipped under the weight of the demon, the shadow of the night concealing his features with a dark mask. "i can see why the boy is so fond of you," the figure murmured to himself, their voice barely above a whisper. their fingers danced up the curve of your shoulder, ghosting over your neck before settling beneath your jaw, shifting your head in their direction.

"you're a lot stronger than you seem… a lot more stubborn than i realized," the figure leaned over you, their face just mere inches from your own. "but, you're not strong enough to evade me. you're in my domain now, and i will not allow you to break free from me so easily."

underneath the pale white glow of the moon, you could finally see who the intruder was— your best friend, your childhood crush: stiles stilinski. but, it wasn't really stiles, was it? no. no, it wasn't.

his skin was too pale, and the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes had transformed into something more… predatory. the hold stiles maintained on your throat tightened, his chapped lips curling up into a wicked smile. it was as if the boy you knew had checked out, and something else, something darker had checked in instead.

"you're a beautiful girl, did you know that? with such a pretty face, i can understand why the boy has allowed you to consume his every waking thought," stiles gave your neck a gentle squeeze, your pulse growing faster beneath his grip. you could barely breathe, the cool slivers of air you were allowed in barely filling your lungs. "i think i'll keep you here… make you mine and toy with you whenever i need. how does that sound, hmm? for me to keep you around like a pet?"

stiles leaned closer, the tip of his nose mere centimeters away from yours. you could feel the coolness of his breath fanning over your lips, his hand twitching against your throat. you wanted to scream, to push him, to hit, to do something. but, your body was powerless and the weight of his control over you was suffocating.

his other hand lingered over your hip, thumb brushing along the curve of your hip bone before shifting over to the warmth between your legs. your stomach grew sour as he peeled your thighs apart, your limbs stiff as he opened your body up to him. the smile on his lips grew larger, the white pearls of his teeth exposed as a cheshire grin painted itself across his face.

"look at you," he whistled as he straightened back up, his eyes now locked on the sight of your vulnerability. a damp patch had formed at the front of your panties, the thin fabric clinging to the outline of your folds. "look at how your body betrays you, darling. i'm not even touching you yet… but, here you are… already wet and aching for me like the good little pet you're meant to be."

the hair along your arms and legs stood on end as stiles licked at his lips, a glint of hunger swirling in his eyes. you wanted to throw up, the feeling of his gaze on your body making you grow nauseous. "i can feel your mind fighting your body, darling," stiles's tone darkened, his voice dropping an octave as he shifted into a comfortable position between your legs. "you're trying to convince yourself that you don't want this… that your body doesn't want to be bent, and stretched, and spread by my hands,"

"but, guess what?" stiles tugged the silver zipper of his jeans down, the rustling of fabric making your mouth grow dry. "it's better if you don't fight it. you're mine now, after all, it'll be better in the long run if you give in now, darling."

the weight of stiles's cock slapping against your cunt almost made you jolt in surprise, the heaviness of his erection prompting your cunt to flutter around emptiness. your clit twitched beneath the weight, his hips grinding against you at a languid pace. you wanted to push him away, wanted to hate the feeling of his dominance consuming you. but, even under the spell of sleep paralysis, you couldn't quite push him away. at least, mentally.

"that's my good girl," stiles praised with a wolfish grin, his large hands cupping the back of your knees, forcing your legs up towards your chest. he had folded you into a position of his desire, pushing your panties to the side with one hand while the other squished your thighs together to keep you in place.

the head of his flushed cock glided through your messy pussy lips, collecting and smearing your arousal around before dipping slowly into your entrance. your brain couldn't fight against him anymore, the burning stretch of his cock diving deep into you almost coaxing a moan through your dry lips.

"open yourself up to me, pet," stiles grunted as his hips slowly began to rock into you, the hooked curve of his cock catching against the sensitive gooey spot along your walls with each thrust. your cunt clenched around his cock, strangling his length and drawing him in deeper and deeper. "and, let me make you mine."

#˚ ༘♡ 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #𖦹 ༘⋆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 #꒰ stiles stilinksi ꒱#void stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski x fem!reader #x fem!reader #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x you #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x fem!reader #void stiles x reader #void stiles x you

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thefreakandthehair · 9 months

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no better version I could pretend to be tonight

written for ‘charm’ wc: 548 | rated: m | cw: eddie munson's near-death experience and description of panic attack/nightmares @steddiemicrofic

Eddie wakes up screaming.

It’s how he experiences the crushing weight of living when he was so certain he would die beneath that fiery, starless sky. No one sees the hollowed out face of Death and comes back through the veil unscathed, but if the only sacrifice Eddie makes for his life is his right nipple, some flesh, and peaceful sleep, he figures it’s a bargain.

Every night for the last several months, a hole cracks open in his chest where his lungs once were that bottoms out and refuses to hold the oxygen he desperately tries to pull in to fill the void. His skin feels too tight, his throat hoarse, his palms sore from the clenching of his fingers into fists that swipe at nothing. The taste of blood and rust coats his mouth, a phantom sense that nothing but time dissolves.

Casual shrugs and black coffee disguise his discomfort when asked if he’s okay.

Never better. I’m alive, aren’t I? He jokes.

That should be enough of an answer for his new friends. And it is, mostly. They don’t believe him, but they leave well enough alone.

That is, everyone but Steve Harrington.

Steve’s proven himself to be an enigma, wispy in Eddie’s grasp. He can’t quite get a handle on him, but he’s been nothing but good to Eddie besides his relentless insistence that Eddie try sleeping at his house.

“Just give it a shot, Munson. I’m tellin’ you, I’ve got this sleep charm.”

“If you wanna get me in your bed that bad, you’re gonna have to try a little harder than that.”

“If that’s all I was doing, this would be a lot easier.”

The kicker is that he does. He trusts Steve, and maybe he just wants an excuse to pretend that Steve’s his to wake up to but the next time he wakes up screaming, he gathers his shit, scribbles a note for Wayne in the kitchen with shaking hands, and drives across town. He parks, walks up to the door with a pillow under one arm, and knocks loudly, unencumbered by the liminal space that is Loch Nora at two o’clock in the morning.

Steve opens the door before detaching the deadbolt, sleep rumpled and adorable– save for the nail bat just barely visible through the crack of the door. He’s shirtless in just a pair of pajama pants, blue and green stripes that hang a little loose from his hips.

“Eddie?” Steve mumbles, his voice croaky and low as he rubs at his right eye. “Fuck.” He closes the door just long enough to undo the deadbolt and holds his arm out, ushering Eddie into the quiet of the house.

“Here for your sleep charm, or whatever.” Eddie looks around the room, dimly lit by the motion sensor porch light through the window and doubts himself. “This is stupid as shit. I can just—”

Steve shakes his head and places a hand on Eddie’s lower back, gently guiding him upstairs to his bedroom. “Don’t even think about it. You’re here, and we’re gonna get you some sleep. C’mon.”

It won’t be the last time Eddie wakes to the tickle of Steve’s chest hair against his nose and the gentle press of lips to the top of his head.

there's a version of this that's 3k that lives in my google docs and maybe one day, that'll end up on my ao3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie microfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myfic #myblurbs

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six-eyed-samurai · 3 months

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He really didn't want to do this.

But it's not like you had left your lover, Inumaki Toge, any other choice.He tried to console himself, repeating like some religious mantra that he didn't have a choice, you hadn't left him a choice, there WAS no choice. Sure, it left the taste of bile in his mouth and a void in his chest, but sure, he had done it before, hadn't he?

Using his cursed speech to tell you to sleep, and though he'd rather you be awake, it was the only way he could hold you close and in his arms in the dark of the night and pretend you were his. And if you noticed something was gone in the morning, oh well, he had no choice but to tell you to forget it.

“Your hoodie went missing? I'll buy you a new one, DW!” His pen scribbled out, slower than his thoughts of how it was currently under his bed with a collection of other…items.

Using his cursed speech to destroy any Cursed Spirit that dared try harm a single hair upon your beautiful, beautiful head. Can't you see, he wanted to scream until his lungs burst, that he could take care of you himself, no need to out yourself in danger's way? Some days he wanted to knock you out cold or just curse speech you to leave the world of Jujutsu.

“Mustard leaf!” You shouldn't have gone on the mission, should've left it to me, he meant, but he never had the chance to say it.

Using his cursed speech to warn others to stay away from his innocent, unknowing, oblivious beloved. Oh, you, you, you, who didn't notice the absence of the terrified “friends” as they slowly drifted away like his plans of isolation went, didn't notice because he was always, always there to hang out and talk and console and play and reassure you with reinforcements that yes, yes, yes, they couldn't possibly be good friends to abandon you like that, not like him, no, no, no!

“I'll train with you!” He nodded his head furiously after Maki had turned you down for the millionth time, patting your shoulder. You never saw the glare he sent the Zen’in for even BREATHING in your direction.

Using his cursed speech to tell you to follow him on that fateful night when he couldn't take it anymore - he'd just had to have you, hold you, love you! Damn everyone and everything else! He prepared such a nice room for you in his basement, even tried to keep the chains to a minimum, but you gave him no choice but to say “stop moving” when you resisted.

“I don't want to do this, so don't make it worse than it already is.” He was just trying to keep you safe, whatever were you talking about?

Using his cursed speech to make you eat every time you refused to take his food; it made him terribly, horribly sad. Didn't he get your favourites right? Impossible, impossible, he's stalked - ah, watched over you - you for ages! He wished you gave him a choice to not use his technique when you rejected his affections and tried to stay away. Why did you do this, to yourself, to him?

“Why can't you just reciprocate, understand my point of view?” He begged and pleased through pen and paper, but always you turned away, disgusted. Oh, that expression on your face, it made him want to tear his hair out.

He had no choice, so down the collar came and the words rolled off his tongue.

“Love me.”

And love him you did, because you didn't have any other choice.

#Jjk #Jjk x reader #Yandere x reader #Yandere Inumaki #Inumaki toge #Inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki x you #yandere inumaki toge #Yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #sanzuyaps

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Bigger Than The Whole Sky | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: WE’LL GET BACK TO FLUFF SOON. is it a promise? yeah probably. sad stuff will be put on hold after this, we’re getting back to our regularly schedule good dad and husband after this chapter lol

warnings: MINORS DNI. Miscarriage, descriptions of medical treatment, medical inaccuracies, descriptions of medical abortions, depression, cussing, loss of a pregnancy. Simon knows how periods work because he is a good husband.

summary: It’s hard to get over something like this, it’s hard to feel like this. Loss is difficult.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“You are going through a miscarriage.”

It was like the world had collapsed into the void, a ringing in his ears as he felt your hand squeeze his. He squeezed back, looking to you but you only looked at the doctor. She moved her medical mask up her nose a little before she continued. “Since you weren’t too far along, it’s possible to pass the fetus on your own. We also have a medication that would help it go faster. If neither work after a couple weeks, we will have to do...”

Simon tuned out then, watching your face underneath a medical mask. He knew you would be biting your lip to try to stop the tears, but it was pointless - the mask was wet with the tears you had been crying for hours. His heart kept squeezing, tugging, and tearing. He’s never felt this pain before, and he had no idea how to make it fucking stop. You nodded to the doctor, hand squeezing his, making him tune back into the conversation.

“Mr. Riley, do you have any questions?”

He turned to look at the emergency room doctor, her clipboard held by her hip. He glanced back to you before looking at the doctor again. “What do I need to do to help her?”

It was apparent that the doctor was not used to the question, eyebrows twitched before she spoke, “Make sure she doesn’t strain herself, she needs to stay hydrated and fed. This is a lot for a woman, especially since this was her second baby.”

Was.

What a silly word, what a joke, he thought. That ‘was’ could have been my child.

She cleared her throat. “As soon as she passes the fetus, she will need to take a pregnancy test three weeks later to confirm that she is no longer pregnant. If it says that she still is, come back immediately.” She looked to his wife. “It’s imperative that if you feel you are in more pain than before that you come in immediately. Life-saving treatment earlier on in a failed home abortion can and will save your life.”

Simon’s other hand clenched his leg, out of sight. He pressed the balls of his feet into the floor, trying to stop himself from standing and leaving. He so desperately wanted to run out of here, disappear into the alleyway and scream his lungs out.

You nodded to the doctor, she left with a quiet condolence before the air in the room grew silent.

He couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t dare be the man his father wanted him to be, a horrible husband and father - just like him. He forced himself to sit there, to take the pain and stop himself from running like he normally would have.

Like he did when he learned about Winnie.

He didn’t let himself think on it for much more than that, seeing you distraught and in pain right now was hurting him more than losing what would have been his son. He was sure he’d feel the loss later, but he’d rather have his wife alive than a baby he hasn’t even met. He held your hand with care, moving it to his lips and pressing a small kiss to the shaking skin.

He had carried you back out to his SUV when you had been discharged, lulling your head against his chest as the medicine was making you tired. You were wrapped up in the blanket you had left with, your blood still on it and you needed new clothes to wear when you got home.

He didn’t turn on the radio when he began to drive home. He sat with one hand on the steering wheel, the other settled in between your hands. You kept his hand close to your chest as you gazed out the window.

He’s never done this before, never imagined that he would have to - especially with you. The wonderful wife that loved every shitty part of him, the person who woke him from nightmares that plagued his wicked mind. The light in the darkness, holding his treasures in your arms. He’s fixed things for you before like your grandmother’s necklace you wore all the time, the squeaky floorboard in the kitchen and repairing the water heater - all without real annoyance, only playful grumbles and a smile that you loved to kiss. He’s held you when you’ve cried about missing home, missing your brothers, kissed your tears when the postpartum depression got to be too much. There was no way he knew what to do to even ease your emotional and mental pain, but he desperately wanted to. He’d claw his way through Hell to make this easier for you.

He let out a breath, glancing over to you before saying, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t even budge, small breaths escaping your lips. He glanced to the road, seeing that he was fine for just a second, before he moved forward to look at your face. Your eyes were closed, head leaned to the side of the headrest and his hand trapped in your clutches.

He let out a huff through his nose, looking back at the road and squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.” The words stay in the air, directed to no one. He let out a quiet, humorless laugh as he said, “Fuckin’ Hell.”

The lights were on in the house when he carried you inside, he could hear the TV going but he had no desire to investigate. He closed the door behind him with a kick of his foot, hand on the back of your head as your face was settled in his neck. His other arm kept both of your legs on the side of one of his hips, you were still crying. You had woken up in the car earlier, you hadn’t even stopped crying in your sleep. It made his chest tear in half.

“Simon.”

He looked to his right, seeing Price standing in the front room, little Mellie asleep in his arms.

Simon felt tears claw at his eyes, he kept his gaze with his friend. “Can you take the kids for a couple of nights?”

Price immediately nodded. “Yeah.” He nodded towards Simon’s wife. “Is she okay?”

Simon didn’t even look down at you, he shook his head. “Not now.”

He walked up the stairs then, letting Price go back to wherever he came from to get his goddaughter. Simon was careful when he entered the bedroom, he moved towards the bathroom so he could wash you up. He noticed that the blood on the floor was now gone, a towel sat on the side of the bathtub. He quickly sat you down on the side of the bathtub, keeping a hand on you as he turned the water on.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes flickered to yours, red and full of tears. His hand rested on your cheek.

“No need to be sorry.” He wiped tears away with his thumb. “We’ll get through this, okay?”

“It was a boy.” Was all you managed, tears streaming down your face. “Our boy.“

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes. “I would rather have my wife than a son. I don’t care if Mellie is my last kid, because I would still have you. Don’t ever apologize for something you can’t control.”

Your face immediately went to his neck, arms around it as loud sobs erupted from your lips. He held you close to him, pressing his lips to your hair.

The hard part was helping you bathe, you sat catatonic in the warm water. The tears had stopped minutes ago, he was now draining the tub of the pink water, helping you into a towel. Gently wiping off the water from your body, moving to grab some of your clothes from the bedroom before returning. He was quick to grab a pad from underneath the cabinet, he wasn’t unfamiliar to them since you had to keep using them when he had gotten home months ago because of Mellie. He put it in your underwear then kneeled in front of you. He guided your hand to rest on his shoulder, helping you step into them. He pulled them up, then helped you into a pair of his old sweatpants - tying them at your waist. He stood, pulling one of his old band shirts over your head and tugging it on.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before bending down and picking you up into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. He let you cry into his chest, laying down on your bed and letting you curl into his chest. His arms around you, caging you into him as he tried his best to hold back his own tears.

“We’ll be okay.” He spoke into the room, right beside your ear. “You’ll be okay.”

“I want my baby.” Those four words stabbed his chest, ripping open muscle and exposing his rib cage to the biting wind of emotional agony. His hand buried into your scalp, pressing your head to his chest.

He pressed his lips to your head. “I know.”

The hands that gripped his shirt let go, now resting your palms against his chest. “No. I want my daughter, I want Winnie.”

Your husband was only gone a few minutes before he brought back his sleepy daughter, settling her right next to you. Your arms immediately went around the five year old, pressing kisses to her little face. She didn’t even grovel about it, just basking in the love of her mom.

“Be good for Uncle Price.” Your voice was surprisingly steady, the girl opened her eyes and crinkled her nose.

“I wanna stay home.”

Your hand gently pet down her messy curls. “I know, but you know when we had to sit down on the sidewalk after you skinned your knee on your bike?”

The girl nodded.

“And that I told you that you take the time to feel better and not to be scared of your bike. I told you that you didn’t have to ride your bike again, because you were scared to. Because you were hurt.”

“Yeah,” The girl whispered, hands going to rest on your arm.

“And you got on your bike the next day, even though you were scared but you had that time to feel better, and you felt safe again. I’m gonna do that.” You placed a kiss on her forehead, pushing a lock of dirty blonde hair from her face. “I just need some time to feel better, that’s why you’re going with your uncles.”

“Is Daddy going with me?”

You shook your head. “No, baby. He’s taking care of me.”

Her nose crinkled again. “Is Melsie coming?”

You nodded. “Mellie’s going with you.”

Winnie chirped, a smile on her face. “Can I eat ice cream when I go?”

You chuckled, nodding. “Yes. Tell Uncle Price that Mama said so.”

“Love you, Mama.” Your daughter moved forwards, wrapping her arms around your neck. You kissed her again, whispering your love into her ear before Simon pulled Winnie up and away. His five year old looked at his face with eyes that matched his own, her little hands settled on his shoulders. Her little eyebrows were furrowed, the look of a question on her face.

“Go on.” He encouraged, knowing that she would probably pester Price so much that he’d go into retirement.

“I want a brother.” The little one declared, her brown eyebrows furrowed. She reminded him of you. “Mama said I’m gettin’ a brother.”

One hand went from holding her to brushing her hair down, a frown on his face. “Not yet, my little love. He’s not ready.”

Winnie hummed before moving her arms around her father’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you, seeing your eyes on him.

“Maybe we’re not ready too.” He spoke. If it was someone outside looking in, it would’ve seemed like he was saying it to Winnie - but he was saying it to you. His eyes didn’t leave yours for a moment more, he then walked towards the door and down the stairs, leaving you alone in the massive bed.

Ibuprofen would help now, but you had no energy to ask Simon. Your fingers gripped the sheets, you curled into yourself in the middle of the bed. You needed to tell Winnie why she was going away, that you weren’t abandoning her. The girl already felt abandoned by her father, you could see it through the way she waits at the front door for him. The way she always checks to see if his car is in the garage, the way she leaves a little bit of water in her cup in case he comes home and is thirsty, even though he’s on deployment. Your hand hovered over your stomach before pressing onto it, pain radiating through your lower back and legs.

You had to come to terms that it wasn’t time yet. It wasn’t time for a little boy with Simon’s spray of freckles, a little boy with a smile like yours. It wasn’t time for a baby again, you figured.

Then why did it still hurt? Why did it drive a red hot spear into your chest, cracking open your ribs? Why did claws rip apart your lungs so you couldn’t breathe?

A large hand settled on your side, large legs settling just behind yours. His arm snuck underneath your chest, pulling your back into his front. The tears started again, red hot against skin you felt was cold. Your arms clutched onto Simon’s, his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your hair.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” You whispered, still not sure if you believed him. “I know.”

“Baby…”

“Simon.” Your voice cracked, hands squeezing his large arm tighter. “Please. I can’t hear it anymore.”

You wouldn’t be able to see it, you couldn’t turn to face him, but his own tears fell down onto the pillowcase. Small tears, barely there in comparison to yours.

“I love you.” His words were steady, even if his heart felt like it was crashing and burning. You were ready for this one, he would’ve been after a while. He wanted what you wanted, and his heart twisted and contorted into painful positions when he knew it was being ripped away from you. “I love you.” He pressed another kiss to your skin, he then rested his forehead on your clothed shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I’m at fault here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“The baby was perfect at the appointment. I got sick and didn’t care for myself, so he-“

“Stop it.”

“It’s my fault, Simon.“

“These things happen, without rhyme or reason.” He pulled you just a little closer. “You’re a wonderful mother. If the baby’s not ready, it’s not ready. It’s simple. It will never be your fault.”

“But-“

“No. I’m not going to sit here and listen to you degrade yourself for something you can’t control. I can’t do it.”

“It hurts.”

He pulled the blanket farther up your bodies, up to your chin while he gently lifted his arm from your lower stomach. “That better?”

You pressed his arm into your stomach, curling your back into his chest again. You closed your eyes, trying to let go. Trying to let go of the chain you were holding in your open chest, trying to pull the weight at the end of it back up. Your hands kept slipping, the chain falling further and further into your chamber of despair. It wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep, dreamless and in pain.

Simon didn’t sleep.

He held you close to him, keeping your hair from your face. He memorized how your nose curved, the way your jaw defined your face, and how peaceful you were when you were asleep.

He felt his own pain, losing a child was not an easy feat. Simon felt acid-like tears in his soul, but Ghost had pressed his hand into them to make them hurt.

Simon would never have a son. He was grateful that he would never be like his father, beating his boys until he got bored. He was grateful that his girls were strong, loved; that their mother would never be hurt by his hand. He was grateful he would never have to fake his love for his girls.

Simon Riley was grateful he wasn’t going to have a son, so he didn’t have to stare a carbon copy of himself in the face and pretend that he loved him.

hi, i wrote this entire thing like weeks ago and the last paragraph almost made me vomit cause i was so upset

also, we’re getting a flashback for them because fluff and because i want to. i want to show how happy they were >:(

taglist: @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium

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