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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years

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Servantly duties

A/N: I've been working on this on and off for like a month so I'm sorry if its no bueno! I was really just trying to finish it and am keen to work on kinktober!

TW: implied sexual harassment, chipped fingernail, aphrodisiac/ love potion trope, forced kissing/touching

Synopsis: as a human servant to a satyr god, you're forced to draw him a bath and fall to his whims.

Word Count:4000

Being a servant for a deity and their court was not as glamorous as it may have seemed. “Yes your highness” this, and “of course my lord” that; you were just thankful that satyrs were a lively race. Especially considering their knacks for magic and devious enchantments, not to mention their selfishly lustful acts. But you, you had the special task of taking care of a very important one. A god. Though the god himself was not very powerful nor crucial to most creatures, in the hierarchy of his race he was the most grand.

After getting caught stealing from his altar out of desperation, you were condemned to work in the prime temple as a servant. You were shown mercy partly due to the gods laziness, and mostly because the being took a strange, licentious liking to you. Besides nymphs, humans were one of the most sought after creatures by satyrs, and it was not very often that one of the two would strut into such a dangerous territory. If it weren’t for the deity keeping you at his side, you probably would’ve been taken by one of his subjects. Satyrs never had a filter on their ravenous sexuality, only god knows what would’ve happened if they got their claws on you. But, it's not like the deity was any better.

Though your servitude was a punishment, you grew accustomed to your life here. You swallow your pride in order to avoid the gods wrath, hoping someday to be free of serving such voracious creatures. A snide comeback wasn’t worth being cursed for the rest of your life. He was still a deity, after all. So, you bite your tongue and do your duties. You were constantly at his beck and call to refill a glass of wine, to clean up after a luxurious party, or to wave a fan. The work never ended.

You recalled the orders from earlier.

"Dearest, I want a bath this evening. Make it nice, I only want you in my company." he purred to you.

You responded accordingly, but saw the way he looked at you. You were sure that he was planning some dastardly crude idea to get you to fall for him.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a searing pain, accidentally touching the burning pot in front of you. You retracted your hand as fast as lightning from the boiling water. The small fire underneath it had been slowly dying but yet the pail stayed piping hot. Picking up the handle, you delicately rose it from the fireplace. The metal handle dug into your skin as the weight of the water became nearly too much to carry. But you continued walking towards the large bath.

Reaching the basin, you took the thick cloth in your pocket and held the bottom of the pail, dumping it into the bath. The steam quickly diminished as the hot liquid mixed with the water already placed in the tub.

You hummed to yourself as you picked up a bottle of rose oil. You smelled it for a moment, savoring the sweet scent you'd likely never be able to experience fully. Small drips of the liquid fell into the bath, the smell becoming more potent the more it dripped. Setting it back down you took the few flowers surrounding the bathtub and began to peel them. The dried petals fell into the water elegantly. You snuck a few smaller ones into your pocket, watching the door in case the deity appeared.

You got up to find the clothes you put on the bed earlier, grabbing them and turning slowly to the basin again; The labor of the day was finally hitting you yet it was nice to have a moment alone. But your slack shoulders didn’t stay at ease for long; the sound of the bedroom door swinging open made you tense up again, hurrying to bring the clothing into the bathroom.

“Oh dearest human,” a sing-songy voice called. “Is my bath ready yet?” You heard the rustling of fabric come from the bedroom as you tripped over yourself to get to the door.

“Yes, my lord.” You cleared your throat, looking as you saw what was in front of you.

The satyr deity, Philon, was currently eyeing you with a grin. He had already tossed off his satchel, his dirty tunic clearly next. To say the god was bulky was an understatement. His race was not all that different from humans, but his huge stature and animalistic features said otherwise. The deity status was not one that made him any less intimidating, either. He easily towered over you, peering down while his furry ears twitched and his hazel eyes twinkled. You had helped dress the satyr on multiple occasions and occasionally tended to his bath, but it was always with other servants or worshippers. Now, you were given the task to handle him alone. You couldn't even imagine it.

He completely shattered any line of professionalism to the point where you didn't know whether to take his flirty words seriously, to refute them, or to fall to his whims out of fear for your life. Some of the other servants believed Philon was trying to court you. From the way he pursued you longer than any other creature that caught his eye, and how he dismissed any other satyr from touching you, it did look suspicious. But you wouldn't believe it; after all his games and his sickeningly sweet remarks, you believed you were just another distraction until he got bored.

"Finally," the god released a groan, stretching his arms as he began to disrobe. "Feels like I've been out in that forest for ages."

He noticed you watching as he pulled leaves out of his long hair, undoing the intricate weaving you prepared this morning. Small pieces of gold and little jewels were still strung in his locks. He smirked, staring back at you as he stroked his hair.

"See something you like?"

You looked away quickly.

"I apologize for staring," you mumbled, embarrassed and trying to gesture to the bathroom. He was so full of himself. "Please my lord, your bath is ready."

Philon grinned, strutting past you.

As he made his way to the bath, the god began untying his once white tunic. It had been stained with spilt wine and dirt, remnants that surely came from the loud festival outside. But he stopped for a moment, watching you stand there without following.

"Well come on now, these clothes aren't going to come off themselves!" The satyr said with a hearty laugh.

You swallowed harshly. At Least being ravaged by a deity was better than any old satyr, you thought to yourself. The all male race had definitely not been easy to deal with. Everyone was still outside the temple, busy celebrating this year's harvest thanks to Philon; he was usually the last one standing when it came to celebrations of himself.

You walked as slow as you could to the large porcelain bath. Philon sat on the edge of it and stuck a finger in the warm water, swirling it around as petals stuck to his skin. The pleasant aroma of the bath helped ease your nerves.

He watched you shuffle in, poorly hiding a devious smirk behind his hand. Your shaky hands begin to undo the knot that he had clearly re-tied.

You felt him staring down at you as warm breath hitting the top of your head. Your fingers struggled with the knot, sweat dripping down your brow as his stare grew intense. But he didn't stop you. Fumbling until your fingernail split, you successfully undid the knot. A small sacrifice to keep your dignity. You were glad the satyr didn’t seem to notice.

At the removal of the knot, the rest of the satyr’s clothes came undone. His chiton fell to the floor gracefully piling around his feet. You had seen the deity in all his naked glory before, but for some reason this time it felt different. Maybe it was because you were the only one who had his attention. Or maybe, it was because it felt like he was burning holes into your face with how hard he was looking for your reaction.

You ignored him, picking up the loose fabric that smelled of sweat and sweet wine to put in a small basket. Philon stepped into the tub, letting out an audible groan at feeling the water pool around his legs. You jumped at hearing him, the sensual noise catching you off guard. The lord lowered himself into the bath of petals and sweet smells as he waited for you to tend to him. Picking up the basket of clothes, you intended to get out as fast as you could. Bowing shortly you skittered towards the door.

“Wait a minute,” the satyr beckoned you with a finger, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t think you’re done, do you? How am I supposed to get clean?”

He lifted his furry hoof, water dripping off of his lower half as you looked away; you were tempted to roll your eyes. Of course he wanted you to clean him. You reluctantly set down the basket, coming closer to the bath. You prayed to any other deities that could hear you, hoping they would save you from such a fate.

But alas, nothing stopped you as you found a clean washcloth on the table behind the bath, near the flower oils and a bar of soap. You quickly grabbed it, dipping the washcloth in the bath water and furiously rubbing the chunk of lye. Maybe if you rushed, he wouldn’t have time to try and mess with you, right? That was the only hope you could cling to.

But as soon as you were ready to begin bathing him, you froze. This was going to be a lot harder than you thought. You thanked the gods that bubbles covered his lower half, but his bare, dripping chest and biceps still sat before you.

“Start with my shoulders,” He commanded, resting his arms on the bath’s rim. “I’ve got a terrible ache.”

You bit your tongue and shimmied on your knees to the other side of the bath. “Of course.”

His back was as clean as you’d expect of a god who lazed all day. The nape of his neck was slick with sweat and water, a flurry of freckles dotting his back; they almost seemed to form constellations. You brought the washcloth to his shoulders, feeling his muscles vibrating under your touch. The small divots and hills of his skin were smooth against your fingertips. Before you knew it you had soaped up his shoulders and back completely. He had let out a few, throaty groans at your work but you were too preoccupied to notice. The satyr let out a blissful sigh as he turned upward to look at you.

“Don’t think your work is done yet, my little dove,” Philon grinned from upside down, fingers reaching out to graze your lips. He left your cheek wet with soap suds as you stayed put, mostly out of surprise. He cupped your cheek as you dared not to lean in or move away.

He then pointed to his head, the long reddish brown strands swaying as he moved. You were dazed for a moment until it clicked, your eyes lighting up with relief. Perhaps, all he really wanted was a bath? Maybe your hope was turning to delusion.

You grabbed a fancy glass bottle, remembering from having seen it a thousand times while cleaning. You assumed that it was the right one for hair, and poured its contents. Lathering it in your hands, you came to find Philon’s hair was already wet, likely done by the deity in order to speed the process up. You could tell he was growing impatient.

You began from the top of his skull down to the tips of his long locks, thoroughly massaging the suds into his head. You got to the sides near his long, furry ears, rubbing the soap in as you heard him release another groan. They seemed nearly unintentional; the deity's eyes were shut as he let you mold him, his body lax.

You were careful to avoid his horns, their presence hindering your scrubbing. They were one of the few traits that defined the satyr. Other than his horns and ears, from the waist up you'd think he was human. Well, nearly. His kind tended to grow more hair and fur than humans, and this one in particular had the blood of a god flowing through his veins.

You cupped the deity's chin and leaned his head back lightly, cupping water in your hands to wash out the lavender scented soap. He leaned his head backward and brought your arm to his chest.

Your hand went limp in his, afraid for a moment. You allowed yourself to keep washing the soap suds as he stroked your palm. Philon’s fingers messed with yours, prying open your hand that was balled into a fist. Warm, wet hands tickled your wrist as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

You swiftly finished rinsing the soap, getting up to busy yourself with finding the rag you left somewhere. You swore you left it on the table only a few feet away. But before you could figure out the location of the rag, you felt your arm tugged by a slimy hand.

"What's this?" Philon asked. He observed your broken nail. "What happened?"

You watched as he stroked your pointer finger, looking closely at the crack that divided your fingernail.

"Just an accident. It doesn't impede my work." You said matter-of-factly.

"Well I can't have you working with an injury like this. It could get infected, you know. "

"But the soap--"

He put a finger to your lips, talking over you.

"No buts. In fact, I think this needs to be taken care of now before you injure yourself more."

You were unable to protest as he pulled your arms into the tub. Before you knew it, he had dragged you entirely in, making you let out a yelp as he embraced you with his arms. Your clothes quickly soaked as you flailed.

Philon chuckled as shock and surprise fled your eyes. You bit your tongue to prevent from giving him a piece of your mind, not daring to extend your servitude sentence any longer. But boy, did you want to bite his head off.

"Awe, what's with the frown?" He grabbed your chin, twisting your face to admire the scowl you held. "glad I was able to make you wet, though."

You couldn't help but cringe, feeling the satyr grip your backside, both to hold you up and to cup a feel. You assumed you looked like a wet cat about now.

"My lord, how am I supposed to do my work like this?" you said between gritted teeth.

The satyr kept grinning at you cheekily.

"I can't have you getting hurt again on my watch. You can keep washing me in the bath." He leaned back in the tub, waiting for you to make your move.

Looking at his chest, you realized what he expected. He was still holding you, rubbing his large hands on your knees as you unintentionally straddled his waist. You didn't waste any time wondering what the protruding thing beneath you was.

At a loss for words, you decided to just keep working. Still holding onto the delusional hope of being able to finish quickly and leaving, you leaned forward to grab the soap from behind the Satyr.

The awkward positioning reminded you just how odd and wrong this situation was. He was a deity, a forest spirit who could banish you to never step foot in a grassy plain in the region again; he could take you if he so pleased, nothing in his presence able to stop him from claiming you as many times as he wanted.

It wasn't your place to be here, in a bath big enough to hold three, of which barely fit the both of you from the sheer size of the satyr. He touched you as if you were a lover, softly, taking in every crack and blemish in your skin. But that touch was also filled with authority; the way he touched you without looking for your acknowledgement, proved to you he knew there were no consequences.

Philons’ hand traveled up your hip, caressing your side as you extended to grab the bar of soap. You nearly had it, but it was still out of reach. He merely watched as you struggled to grab it. You were too engrossed in reaching the slick bar of soap to see him come up close to you, breath tickling the hairs of your neck. A soft kiss was planted below your ear, the satyrs’ hand coming up to caress your jaw.

You slipped without warning, which planted you face-first into his chest. Your nose burned from hitting his sternum so roughly, making your eyes tear up. His flush skin pressed on yours made you scramble up immediately, feet scurrying in the water to get off of him. Grabbing your hands he steadied you as you stuttered.

"I'm so sorry!" You cried. While the satyr made your skin crawl, you still felt bad about planting yourself right between his tits.

"Calm down," Philon chuckled, steadying you on his lap. "I never realized how much of a skittish little thing you were." You tensed as he brought your hand with the soap bar up to his chest. "Guess that's one more thing I enjoy about you."

His words nearly made you vomit. But the soap! You managed to grab it during the fall. The satyr almost looked disappointed when you ignored him and found the rag once more, watching you scrub the lye bar. Philon adjusted his legs beneath you, groaning as he "accidentally" grinded upward to get more comfortable. You would've scrambled off his lap by now if it weren't for his hands holding your damp hips.

Rubbing Philon’s chest in a methodical motion, you watched as the cloth began to make white bubbles on his tanned skin. His ears twitched and you swore if he wasn't in the bath, you would see his tail doing the same. The deity was waiting in anticipation, licking his lips as he felt your soft hands on his torso. He panted, flexing his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. You sighed and looked up at him to see what all the fuss was.

But his mouth was on you before you could ask. His forehead knocked against yours as he kissed you with a salivating mouth. Philon moved fast, pushing you backwards in the bath and pressing you against it; the water sloshing outside of the basin didn't stop him. Your arms stuck out awkwardly with your hands still holding the rag and soap.

"Mmn…! I can't help myself anymore--" he cut himself off with a kiss to the side of your mouth, voice hoarse and impatient. "I tried to give you time… let you come to me to spare my pride, but I can't … can't wait any longer. "

You squealed against his mouth, surprised and desperate for air. You knew the god would pounce, just unsure of when. And now was not the most convenient time. His soapy chest pressed into yours and dampened the rest of your clothes; his hands gripped hard onto the tub as he tried to get on top of you. His furry legs tickled yours under the water, ears flicking against your cheek as he smothered you with affection. He really had been holding back.

"My lord--" your voice cracked as you tried to press yourself deeper into the tub to create space. Philon took the challenge, pressing harder. "Please this is no way to behave-!" You were cut off with a kiss as he straddled your waist and forced your hands into his hair. The rows and rows of indents that formed his curled horns were smooth in your hands; Philon moaned into your mouth each time you ran your hands down them to push him off. You twisted away from his mouth, biting his lip for an extra measure.

"Why don’t you understand, I don't want this! Leave me alone!”

He laughed, belittling you with just one condescending look.

"I love the chase,” He licked his lip. "I think you'll find yourself yearning for me soon."

"What?"

Philon reached for a fragile bottle of wine on the counter of soaps and oils. You never had the pleasure of tasting such a delicacy but have witnessed its effects on those who drank it. It was a well-known aphrodisiac in the region, and you wouldn't be caught dead drinking such a thing around a satyr. Nonetheless this bastard.

He eyed you, taking a sip but not yet swallowing. You fought to get out of his grasp now that his other hand was preoccupied; he managed to hold you down with his forearm, pushing it across your chest to keep you tucked against the bath. The water was beginning to grow cold, bubbles having disintegrated and the fragrant smells starting to diminish. The flower petals had long since dissolved, turning the water a rosy red.

He threw the empty bottle to the floor with a clang, using his now free hand to try to pry open your mouth. As much as you stayed stubborn, you couldn't help but release a gasp when his long nails dug into your thigh.

Philon slammed his mouth onto yours, forcing the wine down your throat and against your tongue.Tears welled in your eyes and your nose began to burn. The satyrs inhuman leg pressed itself against your crotch as your hands twisted into his.

Letting go of your mouth with a wet "pop," philon came to recover your lips with his hand, nearly suffocating you.

"Swallow. Swallow it." He looked at you with expectant eyes. "Be a good little human now."

You couldn't breathe, water sloshing next to your ears while the large creature forced himself onto you. For the satyr though, he couldn't get enough. The water dripped down your chest, your collar slightly open as you breathed heavily. You groaned against his fingers, just like he always wanted.

You swallowed the thick, fermented juice, only out of fear for your life. The male let go as you gasped for air.

"I'm going to make you give yourself to me." He said, as your chest heaved and your hands tried to push him back. "When you're desperate and drooling in only a few moments, you'll have to beg me to touch you."

You promised yourself you wouldn't, that you would keep that small sliver of dignity no matter how dire the situation was, no matter how badly you wanted to return home. But the wine was already starting to take effect. You felt it in your fingers and toes, ones that tingled and went numb. Your chest ached and a warm feeling spread down your stomach.

"You're already feeling it, aren't you?"

The aphrodisiac was beginning to take its course. Your muscles tensed as your body grew restless; Philon watched with a sadistic glint in his eyes. He stayed true to his words, refusing to touch you until you began to squirm. You put your hand to your crotch, trying to suppress the growing urge inside of you. The sweet aftertaste of the wine still lingered in your mouth. Philon growled, ears twitching and flicking the gold pieces embedded in his horns and hair. The wine was beginning to take its hold on him, too. Not that he would’ve needed it in the first place.

He panted, running his smooth fingertips down your wet clothes. You felt sticky and hot and impatient, breathing heavily as something inside you made you thirsty. Philon squeezed your chest with hungry hands; you could see the lust beginning to take over his snide expression, his normally insatiable libido somehow growing worse.

“you're going to be begging on your knees for me.“

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starshipsofstarlord · 11 months

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Hunter Hookup

Sam and Dean have been on the search for their father ever since he disappeared on a hunt for the yellow eyed demon, and it appears that they are not the only ones looking for him. Dean wants answers, but he gets much more than he bargained for (2.5k)

Warnings - smut MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff, slight angst, mentions of killing, choking, alcohol consumption

dean winchester main masterlist more supernatural

The Winchesters, there were many things that could be said about them, good and bad. However right now you didn't want to speak about them, not as you downed another glass of whiskey, ignoring the man beside you of whom was persistently trying to get in your pants. Let's just say that wasn't happening, he had no chance, he was some drunk that was no doubt frequently sat in the very stool of the bar that you were occupying right now. He'd be easy prey to any monster, it was quite a shame that you had just killed the werewolf that had been lurking around this specific town.

The slam of the double doors of the entrance slammed open, whisking your attention to the two lean men that strode in, a smirk took point on your face, they certainly didn't look very happy, and you couldn't blame them, surely there had been no monster for them to find as you had already taken it out. "You boys look like you could use a drink." You stated as they prowled closer to you, displeasure written across their faces. "Maybe you should go and buy yourselves one, I'm sure you just came back from a long and gruelling hunt."

Dean disgustedly rolled his eyes at you, clearly not being fast on forgiving you for selfishly saving the lives of the population nearby. "You're hilarious, you know a heads up woulda been nice that you had caught up to it. Instead of letting us run around like headless chickens searching for it and looking like mad men for continuing to work on an already closed investigation." He sat on the stool beside you, hollering the bar tender to bring him a glass of something strong that would no doubt sizzle down the pain in the ass that you were giving him with your presence.

"But it's so fun to watch you two make fools out of yourselves, really puts a new filter on a hunters perspective of the infamous Winchester brothers. I'm sure your pops would be proud wherever he is." Dean growled at you as you stood, slinging your bag over the shoulder of the tattered jacket that you were wearing, though Sam stopped you from leaving as you planned to, caging you in by the bar. A presumptuous squint troubled his eyes as he daringly stared you down, no doubt by the mention of their missing father.

"What do you know y/n?" This was no time for your games nor your teasing, this was a serious matter, and he wouldn't have you poke fun about it. He had left everything behind to search for the one thing he had abandoned when he built his new life up; he owed his last living parent this much, even if he had burdened him with the cruel lifestyle of killing things and following in the steps of the family business that kept all humans constantly in danger, just so that the yellow eyed demon that had killed his and Dean's mother would pay for his monstrous crime.

"I know how to kill a werewolf quicker than the two of you assholes put together, and much... much more. In regards to your father Sammy, more than you again. You see, he put me up to the task of finding him if he ever went missing, so how about you drop back into school and let me abide by the task that John gave me." With yours shoulder you butted past him, though as your silhouette fled, Dean's head had perked up, surprised by the nonsense that had spewed from your lips. It was undefinable if he believed you yet, but it was a clue closer than they were.

"Take my beer." Dean said to his brother as he patted him on the shoulder, streaking past and chasing after you. He knew where his loyalties laid and that was with his father, and if you had more to know then he'd damn well get beneath your skin until you revealed all that you had discovered to him. You wouldn't joke in regards to their father's disappearance, Dean knew your reputation and sure you were a pain in the ass when you bumped into each other, but in concerns of his father he was aware that you had the utmost respect for John, his name was practically royalty in the hunting community.

But that was not why you respected the man, no, it was due to him all those years back saving that orphanage from a hungry ghoul from which you emerged out into the world and began to follow in the same saviour footsteps. He had saved your life and now it was your intention to pay that debt by trying to do the same, your life had been a struggle but it was more of one as a heavy hand repeatedly slammed against your door. It was not hard to conclude who was the proceeder of the disruptive sound, and so you sighed, well aware that it would be near on impossible to shoo the son of the man that the mystery surrounded away.

The chore of opening the door to speak to him was a short one as he barged right into the room that you had paid to reside in for a few days, walking to stand in the middle as you defeatedly closed the door and crossed your arms as you stalked behind him. "What is all this?" Dean's voice strained from shock as he noticed your pin board filled with all sorts of excerpts from papers that had been torn from their original founder and scrawling of mindless of words. "Progress." You said, noticing him running his eye over each sentence on the wall. And it was, a work in one that you still had yet to crack, you simply hoped that Dean wasn't memorising each piece on that board, otherwise the route that it set would get him into trouble.

"Your dad wouldn't want you to chase after him Dean, that's why he set me as a precaution if he didn't come back. And my job would be a lot quicker if you wouldn't start playing with my thumbtacks." You slapped his hand away from the board, unamused by his childish habit to touch everything. He frowned at you, twisting the hand that you had scolded him with in his grip, pushing you back with easy force so that your back was against the wall and he was staring down at you. His forest green eyes were searching for any silent clue that your expression could give him but his forage to do so came up empty, and so he chose to brashly speak to you again.

"Don't lie to me y/n, you're as stumped on his whereabouts as me and Sammy are." Dean suspected aloud, watching as your head coyly cocked to the side. He wasn't wrong but you weren't about to let him know that, otherwise that would give him the upper hand for the first time in all the years you had been acquainted. His neck craned down so that his face was that bit closer to yours and you smirked up at him, even though deep down you felt sorry for the man and his younger sibling, not only for the fact that their father was missing but that the man that was supposed to protect them had dragged them into this life. This cruel and long road that gave no escape except that of a long and excruciating death, which would would end up with the person being sent to the coiling trap of hell.

"Maybe you haven't been searching hard enough Winchester. Who was it that your father had been searching for all along, the demon that had started this entanglement of hunting for him? It's not that difficult to piece the story together Dean, and I'm not sure what I am going to find, hence why he had me be the one to uncover where he is. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, I really do, but I don't know what I'm going to find, so if you want to release all of that stress you're feeling go out and hunt some monsters, just like you've been trained to do." You attempted to push Dean back by the chest with your one free hand, however that didn't suffice enough as an escape, you could have tried harder however Dean only brought his body closer against yours.

"I've got something else in mind y/n/n, and I think you'll like what I'm thinking..." in response you huffed, only for him to trace his rough and scarred fingertips across your collarbones, sketching along your skin until he choked a delicate hold around your fragile dove like neck. A sonically pleasing whimper dribbled out from your blushing lips causing a smirk to balance out across Dean's sultry face; he had achieved dominance against you within your own rented confinement. He had initially thought it would be of more difficulty to make you fold from his touch, but alas he was happily surprised you willingly coiled beneath his shadow like a good little girl.

"Oh yeah? I wasn't aware you had the ability to think Winchester, you've always been a little slow with your thoughts." Perhaps he had thought that you were going to be obedient too soon, as it seemed you were biting back and tantalising and truthfully he preferred this side of you. It was very on brand for your character, and the clash of your contrasting domineering would only bring more fun to this enclosed interaction. Dean pressed down with his skilful fingers on your throat, cutting your supply of oxygen off at its point of air travel. You rather liked how he had a grip on you, it was long overdue to have fallen into the hands of the infamous Dean Winchester, to be another woman in his bed.

Except to him you were different, you had more than one thing that he wanted. Answers was the primary thing that he wanted, however in the moment the answers to what seemed to have slipped from his mind as he helped you shoulder off the stained blouse that you had trekked after your earlier hunt in. Beneath the material it was an expanse of soft skin that felt like heaven underneath his fingertips, he wanted to trace every scar that adorned your tired flesh, he wanted to kiss every stretch mark in sight.

And he got prepared to do just that by aiding you in climbing out of your clothes as you assisted him with his own, until you were both naked in your own forms, hungrily moulding your lips together like malleable greek statues. He was above you, panting into your mouth as he stretched your walls out with his fingers, it began with one digit slipping past your folds, and then two, until finally there were three fully sheathed inside of you. He worked them at an impatient pace, he couldn't wait to stuff you with his cock and have you clawing like an animal at his bare back.

When he removed his fingers he placed them in his mouth and hummed at the taste. "You taste like the sweetest cherry pie I've ever eaten." His lips slithered along your neck as he rutted his lower half against your own, coating his cock in your flowing wetness, groaning at the friction. A small whimper surpassed your lips until something passed within you; you weren't going to submit to him, no matter how much your body begged for you to. He would hold it against you until your breaths were up and you were burned on a ceremonial pyre.

"Well we don't have time for you to eat anything Winchester, there's a hunt ongoing and I'd much rather get back to that." You retorted at the infamous executioner of monsters, taking him by surprise as you hooked your leg around his own and flipped him over so that he was laying on his back, and you were seated atop of him. "I'm sure Sammy is wondering where his big brother is, maybe we should just stop here..." you teased him, smirking as his green eyes only grew significantly darker.

"It's a bit late for that baby girl, considering your already sat naked, it would be such a shame to waste this situation. God knows I've been waiting to fuck you from the first time I laid my eyes on your pretty little frame." His hands rested on your hips, helping you line yourself up with his cock, the back of his head sinking into the pillows beneath when your pussy engulfed his length. "Fuuuuuccckkkk." Dean moaned, his mouth falling open as you sank down on him until you were filled with his thick cock.

"For the first time I'd say your weight Dean, it would have been a shame not have you inside of me." You gasped lightly, adjusting for a moment until you began to ride him, hands placed firmly on his chest to support your movements. It felt amazing to be in control of a man that was so well known for having any woman at his mercy, your neck lowered once more as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, before entangling your tongues in an ever losing battle.

You kept moving, and kept moving until a feeling of euphoria grew within your abdomen. Your vision became momentarily blurry as you spoke the hunter's name again and again, coming close to the edge, and you fell over it when Dean finally moved one of his hands, and began to rub at your clit, causing your orgasm to rattle your entire body. He too was close and that spurred him enough to take matters into his own hands as you lulled in your orgasmic bliss, throwing his hips up as he fucked you from underneath, until he was done and emptied his seed within your walls.

He panted, with you laying atop of him and your head upon his chest softly listening to his heartbeat, his slowly softening cock still inside of you. It was a surreal moment, you both knew that your bodies would one day ignite in a dance of passion and pent up frustration, and it had all been worth it. "I hope you find your dad Dean. I'm not going to stop looking but I know you aren't either, and it's not my place to get in the way of that. I... I hope our paths cross again soon."

You whispered sleepily and dazed as you stared away from his face, still using his chest as a cushion. Everything inside of you taunted your mind for letting any inkling of feelings slip through your lips, however it was all soothed when Dean stroked his fingers through your hair, coaxing you into an even more tired and relaxed state. "Oh, I'll definitely be seeing you soon sweetheart. How does the morning sound?" He enquired, hoping to continue the hunt for his father together.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural smut #spn smut #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader

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holdupjack · 10 months

Text

Stop Playing Hero

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

WARNING: Angst/Death/No Comfort

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

It was quiet in the Weasley home as everyone tried to relax from the trauma experience they had just gone through, George being treated for his injuries.

Y/n stood outside, her eyes staring off into the darkness of the night. Her mind raced as she recalled everything they had gone through up until this point.

"Darling? Are you alright?"

Hermione stepped out into the cold night, and she the door behind her. Y/n looked at her with an anxious expression, her arms crossed across her chest.

"That was a close call" she responds and Hermione furrows her eyebrows before nodding in agreement.

"Yes, but we made it" Hermione states as she got closer, then she noticed the shake of her girlfriend's hands.

As she went to grab them herself, Y/n says something she never expected to come from her lips.

"I'm going on the front lines"

Hermione's eyes shot up to Y/n's, finding no joking manner behind them. She felt as though a rug had been slipped out from under her.

"Uh, no you're not" Hermione states no-demands. Y/n huffed out a shaky breath, it puffs in front of her.

"Harry and I were talking-" Y/n starts, but the looks of anger and confusion on Hermione's face was enough to make her pause.

"Harry? Harry has no right to convince you to put yourself on the immediate path of death!" She yells as her eyes flickered towards a window behind them.

Harry quickly dips out of her sight.

"It would be more beneficial if I went back to Hogwarts and helped McGonagall with preparations," Y/n says and Hermione continued to stare at her in disbelief.

"Y/n, you belong right here, next to me!" Hermione retorts and Y/n rolls her neck as growing agitation built up within her.

"That's the point! I'm distracting you! Hell, you almost got killed in the Ministry because I was lagging behind!" Y/n yells as they stood in front of each other.

"So! I'd rather almost die together than not know where you are!" Hermione yells back as she went to grasp Y/n's hand again, but she stepped away.

"No. You need to focus during all of this, you and I both know the boys will die without you." Y/n responds as kept her distance from the love of her life.

"I can do both-"

"NOBODY CAN DO BOTH AND SUCCEED!" Y/n yells as she felt the heat of her anger form around her head.

"That's why kingdoms fall and governments crumble! It happened with Cleopatra, the Spartans, and now the Wizarding World!" Y/n continued as her anxiety forced a tear to fall.

"Shit" she whispers as she quickly wiped it away, Hermione tried to step towards her again, but Y/n kept her distance once more.

"Dammit Y/n! Stop walking away from me!" Hermione yelled as she tried again, but the space between them stayed the same.

"I'm going whether you want me to or not" Y/n states with a glare, but Hermione could tell it was just a front.

"No, you're fucking not" she replies as a tear of her own escaped her. She couldn't help it.

All she imagined was losing her Y/n, while she was none the wiser while out in the world playing hero with her friends.

"You'll distract me more if you're not here! Don't you get it? I need you with me, my love, please don't leave me wondering if you are alive or dead." Hermione pleads as she expresses herself through her hand motions.

Y/n gulped slightly and let a few droplets run down her cheeks, her heart aching to just selfishly give in to the dangers she would undoubtedly bring to Hermione.

"I love you more than anything, you know that right?" Y/n whispers and for a moment Hermione thought she had reconsidered, but she noticed a look in her eyes that she's never seen before.

This was goodbye.

All it took was a simple incantation under her breath, and she would be just outside the ground of Hogwarts, but Hermione has always been a step ahead of her.

"Accio!"

Y/n's body lunged forward as she was pulled towards the Gryffindor, who quickly wrapped her arms around her fleeing girlfriend.

"Hermione, let go!" Y/n struggled as she tried to place her feet back on the ground and push the girl away.

"Never." Hermione whispered into her chest as she squeezed Y/n tighter. It took every bit of resistance to not give into the embrace she's loved since the fourth year.

The spell gave out not long after, causing Y/n to land back on Earth, but she didn't move for a while. Letting herself enjoy the desperate grasps Hermione would alter every few seconds.

She was either trying to find a better grip on Y/n, or this was silent begging.

Y/n wasn't sure.

"Hermione, please don't make me push you away" she whispers into the girl's ear, who just began to cry, now realizing there was nothing she could say or do to make her stay.

Y/n slowly grasped the arms that have held her in the middle of many nights and pulled them away.

Hermione watched in horror, not wanting to believe that the first person she wanted to save, was going to leave her in a limbo of 'what if's'.

"Kiss me goodbye" Y/n whispers as they stood face to face.

A breath left Hermione, it sounded so shaky that Y/n had thought it was her heart audibly quivering.

"This is not a goodbye, you know that." Hermione replies as she placed her palms on either side of Y/n's face.

"My beautiful Y/n" she whispers with a soft sob, as her imagination continuously shows her the worst of her nightmares. The ones that she didn't need to sleep to see.

"I'll see you later Bookworm" Y/n whispers against her lips as they kissed.

It was long and sweet.

When they broke apart and cradled each other in a tight hug, Hermione began to whisper in her ear.

"Everything in my mind is telling me to tie you up so you don't leave, but I know it wouldn't matter. You have always been so hard-headed, and that's one of the many, many, reasons I fell in love with you." She began, her lips kissing Y/n's shoulder in between the pause.

"But...please my darling, I'll do anything for you to stay" she pleaded so softly, Y/n just buried her face into her neck as a way not to cry.

"After all of this is done, we'll meet at our spot in the library, I have hidden something that will make up for everything," Y/n whispers as Hermione ran her fingers through her lover's hair, trying her best to remember every small wave, curl, or pattern.

"Do you promise? To be waiting for me when this is done? So we can go together?" Hermione whispers back, as they backed away enough to look at one another.

"I promise"

Hermione felt her lip quiver again, not caring that the prying eyes of her friends burned behind her.

It took everything for the two to finally separate from each other, both of their hearts breaking simultaneously.

"See you later, I love you Hermione" Y/n whispers.

"I love you most" she replied.

They shared one final look before Y/n just disappeared, leaving Hermione standing alone in the cold.

It took her a few minutes to stop crying, feeling her soul screaming at her to go get Y/n wasn't making it easy.

When she did regain her composure, granted red puffy eyes included, she walked back into the house.

Everyone stood around the first floor in complete silence, Harry standing not that far in front of her.

"Where's Y/n?" He asks, and everyone tenses.

Most had heard the conversations he and Y/n have had over the last week. They all had told him to leave well enough alone, that Hermione would probably kill him for putting those thoughts in her girlfriend's head.

Now, he had made his bed, and he was damn sure going to sleep in it.

Hermione walked up to him, and for a split moment, they stared at each other. Then she coldcocked him upside the jaw, almost making him want to pass out from the force.

He stumbled to the ground and cradled his jaw, yet no one rushed over to help him. Hermione stood over the boy and glared, her anger made him feel like the room had gone up a few degrees.

"You selfish prick. If she dies...god forbid I get my hands on you" Hermione whispered with such venom, Harry was sure it going to drip from her mouth.

She then walked away, afraid that she would do more than just leave a bruise on his chin.

——————

Much Later

Hermione now hid in the forest with her friends, Ron sat by the radio as he listened for any updates from the castle. Lee Jordan's voice haunted Hermione's nightmares, each day she feared to hear her girlfriend's name amongst the list of the dead.

Harry had kept his distance from his female companion, knowing that she truly hated him for the time being.

He feared to hear Y/n's name.

They had spent almost nine months searching for the Horcruxes, and each day being away from her girlfriend had gotten more exhausting,

Every once in a while, she would be able to retrieve a letter from Y/n, or the time they had spotted each other for a split second outside of the grounds of Hogwarts.

She had never been so happy to just look at Y/n.

It was now late into the night, and Lee started to speak again, making everyone freeze inside the tent, and for Ron run back in from outside.

"Only one death has been recorded today" he started as Ron stared at his Radio.

"Earlier this morning, a rouge group of highly skilled students set off to help the people of Irondale. Eye witness accounts say that an Army of Death Eaters stormed into the Hamlet around two in the morning. They killed many that tried to fight, and stole most of their resources." Lee says as they heard the rustle of a paper in the background.

"Then a group of students rushed to their aid once word got to the castle. They fought valiantly when they arrived. A set of six students killed more than double their own battalion. Unfortunately, while most of the enemies retreated, one had snuck behind the student and killed them instantly." He sighs as another paper rustles, Hermione held her breath.

"I regret to inform the friends and family of Y/n Y/l/n, that she has fallen in the field of battle"

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the radio, Ron turned away as his stomach tightened. Harry looked down at the ground, the guilt was undeniable.

"No" she whispers as she picked up the radio and held it up to her ear.

Maybe she heard it wrong?

"Again, I regret to inform the friends and family of Y/n Y/l/n, that she has fallen in the field of battle"

The device tumbled to the floor as Hermione stared at the table in front of her. Her mind screamed in agony that only she could hear.

"Excuse me"

That was all she said as she turn towards the small area where the cots awaited her and entered it quickly. As the flimsy fabric fell back to block the view of her, she began to quietly cry.

Ron let a tear of his own fall as he walked back outside, leaving Harry alone to wallow by himself.

Hermione tried to stay quiet, for the safety of her and her friends, but wails of sorrow escaped her without consent.

It was so loud and painful that Harry and Ron had covered their ears, the sound of her hurt only made it worse.

She could only think of her Y/n, who now lay dead in some cold makeshift morgue in the school.

Alone.

Her knees buckled, making her stumble to the ground, almost feeling as though she might never get up from it

The heaving of her chest made it sound like she could barely breathe, and the shaking in her body didn't help her either.

Maybe she was dying of a broken heart?

Sadly, she hoped so.

The boys didn't bother her for the rest of the night.

——————

A few days later

The war was over, and everyone began to claim the bodies of the dead...including Hermione.

She had to take her Y/n home.

When a student guided her to the dungeons, she found the DIY morgue full. It was horrifying to witness.

Luckily, Magic had stopped the bodies from rotting away, keeping them mostly the same for the families to identify and claim.

The student pointed to the very end of the row beside them to their left. Hermione spotted the pair of shoes she had gotten Y/n two Christmas's ago, they poked out from under a white cloth.

With a soft 'thank you', she made her way towards the body. She heard the door close somehow behind her and suddenly felt eyes on her.

At least, none that she could see.

Her feet felt heavy. Like concrete.

Each step made the loss of energy almost unbearable, but she did make it to Y/n. There was a wall next to her, where Hermione could just sit without having to pull her into the walkway, or accidentally lean onto another body.

Slowly, she sat down next to the covered body on the floor. Hermione took a deep breath and revealed the face that was underneath.

There was her Y/n, somehow still full of color and undried blood.

They must have frozen her body rather quickly.

"Hello my love" she whispers as tears immediately blinded her.

It looked as though she was just sleeping, and at any moment she would wake up and tell Hermione how sorry she was for making her worry.

She never did wake up.

Hermione noticed cuts and scars that were never there before, with blood and dirt still staining her face as well.

"My sweet Y/n, what did they do to you?" Hermione choked out as a shaky hand pushed away the strands of hair in her face. Questions she wanted to ask filled her mind, but she knew they would never be answered.

It must have been an hour of staring, and crying, before she spoke again, in a hushed voice.

"I haven't gone down to our spot yet" she whispers as a sniffle escaped her.

"I'm slightly afraid of what I'll find" Hermione explains as she grasped Y/n's hand.

It was still warm, and no Rigor Mortis.

Again, she thought Y/n could have been alive all this time, but she felt no pulse on her wrist.

"You told me that if this were to happen, to not fix the memories of your parents...I won't" she starts as she remembered them meeting up to spare their parents from the danger and grief they could face.

"I know you want to be buried in Hogsmeade, so I'll buy a plot just for us," Hermione says as she rubbed her thumb against the side of Y/n's hand.

She had no plan to find someone else to be buried beside. Hermione would never settle down, useless it was with Y/n.

So, she never did.

Instead, she sported the last name of her favorite girl up until the day she died.

"Granted, I never thought it would be you who would go before me...and never so soon" she continued as her eyes began to well up again.

"I'm sorry my love, but you'll have to stay here for a week or so until I'm able to get right to a plot of land in Hogsmeade" Hermione hummed as she gently squeezed her hand.

"Ms.Granger? I'm sorry, but Professor McGonagall needs to speak with you."

Hermione looked up to find the student peeking from the door, giving a remorseful smile.

It took every bit of prayer and self-control to put that sheet back up and walk away.

Everything in her was screaming to stay by her side.

——————

Hermione had finally gotten into the library, her eyes wandering around her once favorite hideaway.

Now it just held memories that hurt too much to think about.

She opened the door to the restricted section and walked down to the bottom floor. The library was eerily still, the lack of magic made it seem so devoid of life.

In the corner was a table that had a stack of papers on it. When she got close enough and noticed what was on them, she began to cry again.

It was letters.

All from Y/n, talking about her days at Hogwarts, what it's been like to be apart from one another, the rouge group she had joined to help the villages around Hogwarts, and missions she had gone on.

Hermione sat down as she sobbed, barely taking in the first sentence of the paper in front of her.

It took her a while to read them all, each one short, but full of emotion. She could hear Y/n's voice inside her head as she read them.

They all ended in:

"I love you, Hermione, always."

So, she kissed each one and whispered back:

"I love you too"

When she got to the final letter, an hour or so later, she noticed the date and took a breath of anxious air.

It was the day she died.

"Dear Hermione,

I was awoken around twenty minutes ago, and it's currently 3:42 A.M. Allison Velgo said that Irondale is under attack by the group we've been tracking the last few weeks. I only have maybe a few more minutes before we quickly make our way there, but I know that this could go very badly. This is going to be a battle within itself.

So, as a way to ease my mind, I wanted to let you know that I've hidden your present between the pages where we fell in love.

I love you, Hermione, always.

See you later.

-Y/n"

Hermione pushed away the letter and curled up in the chair she sat on, sobbing quietly.

She's never felt so alone.

She wanted her parents to hold her and tell her everything will be alright, while Y/n held and kissed her hand, saying that this was all just a bad dream.

Did she even want to know what her Y/n had left for her? The letters destroyed her as much already.

The more she cried, the more it seemed that she never would stop. It took longer and longer for her to calm down.

She eventually did stand up and looked around the room they'd hidden in for many years together. It didn't take long to find the book Y/n was talking about, it was one of Hermione's favorites.

One night in the fourth year, they had snuck down there to do some research for Harry during the competition.

Hermione had finally found an answer to the clue and had pushed the book to the middle of the table so Y/n could see. They both leaned over to the middle of the table as she began to recite what she had found, pointing to the paragraph.

When Hermione had finished her explanation, she looked up to only have her nose brushed against the softness of Y/n's cheek.

Y/n just smiled softly.

"You know, I find you absolutely mind-melting" she whispered as their eyes stared at one another.

"You do?" Hermione asked as Y/n hummed.

Then, a small kiss was shared between them.

Hermione had deemed that their love was stored in the pages of the book from that day onward.

Now it seemed Y/n had left something else within them.

She sat back down at the table and let out a shaky breath, her fingers slowly grabbed the pages with one hand and began to let them slip from her thumb.

It halted in the middle of the book, the page they had kissed over, and what was waiting inside is something Hermione had dreamed and feared.

A ring.

Quivering breaths escaped Hermione as she took it into her hands. It wasn't anything storybook size, but it was perfect for her.

It had a small note attached to its metal band, it was short and sweet, but it punched her in the gut like an MMA fighter.

'I promised to meet you here at the Burrow, now will you promise to meet me at home every night?'

"Fuck" Hermione whispers as she leaned away from the table and began to cry once again.

This time, she didn't think she would stop.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #angst

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proverbsss · 9 months

Text

lion's den (john tyler x reader) -suggestive/nsfw

John Tyler, Tell Me Your Secrets

prompt(s): "Just lie back and let me take care of you." & "Right there, that feels so good." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I hope you enjoy this :D I hope to make a pt. 2 that's more nsfw,, so stay tuned

notifs: john tyler's a bad man (we know) ; john's drugged and restrained reader ; dubious consent at best ; kissing and touching

John isn't a total monster. Lesser men might just put you completely under, no sensation, no stimulus. They might take what they wanted selfishly. Or put less thought into your restraints which--while they'll hold--hardly chafe. As he's seen you stirring near regained consciousness, John's observed your limited range of movement. This way, his way, you can even put your hands on your own body a bit. Which is good. Because soon you're going to want to. More than a little bit.

John is a redeemable, merciful sort of guy he thinks, because it's true that he pumped you full of an aphrodisiac capable of overcoming resistance from even the most in-denial candidate, but it's also true that he plans to let you enjoy its effects. It's within reason you should want some pleasure for the trouble of your exquisite pain, his undoing. He has his demands, but let none accuse John Tyler of being entirely unreasonable.

You're even foxier like this, sweeter, floating somewhere between awake and out of it. Sometime more than half an hour ago your hand drifted subconsciously up to your face and two perfect fingers just barely parted your soft lips. John wants, with a fierceness that makes him force his hands between his knees to keep them off you, to suck the spit off those fingers. To taste you while you're not even aware of being tasted. He craves it. But he's waited this long, and all for this moment, this delightful moment you finally appear to come to all at once.

Your eyes don't want to open. Like nothing you've experienced before, the lids are heavy, and the yawning darkness beyond this is intoxicating. Yet there is a pinprick, a hairline sensation of danger far, far below the fog. This feels strange. There's something like tension in your upper arms. You finally gather enough strength to tug, it feels Herculean, and the straining of cord around your wrists calls up greater focus.

What. The.

"Hey, cutie." That voice. Sort of shadowy and velvety and just shy of too sweet. You've heard that voice before. Your muscles are coming back to you now, mercifully, gradually. You turn your head and…there he is. Why is his face so familiar?

"Look at you. So wide-eyed and serene. Like a nymph in a Renaissance painting. It's not hitting you already, is it?"

You frown at him and he grows smaller, but with some innate sense you shouldn't turn your back on him, you force your eyes open again. And now recognition starts to seep in at the edges. John. John from work. John who comes into the deli twice a week, set your watch by it, and orders a sausage and cheese bun plus black coffee. You were delighted that he shared his name, a few details of his day, more than the traditional customer order and maybe a begrudging “Thank you.” He coordinates the construction site down a ways from the deli where you work. What is he doing here? And where is here, come to think of it?

And the pieces rush together enough that you can find strength, urgency, in both your arms and legs to tug, just a little, and make a noise that lets John in on what you’re thinking about him and the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Ah, there you are, there you are. I was worried I wouldn’t get any fight out of you. I like it better when we can keep things civil, really, I’m not a big fan of mess–I don’t want to be any meaner than I have to. But no fight at all…it’s missing half the fun. It is, a third of the fun, at least–” He smiles with a pretty row of white teeth, and a confusing lurch in your lower body makes it harder to shrink away as he draws nearer to you. “But I have a feeling,” John murmurs, hands fluttering oh-so-softly across your belly, “I have a feeling you’re going to be good for me.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and you can’t quite manage one. Just a noise or two of protest, it has to be protest especially as you remember you had a sweater on earlier and this is effectively a layer less than you were clothed when you closed the store. What time is it?

There’s a window with blurry edges to your right, and it seems to be dark outside. Then again under this new veil everything seems at once dark then light again. Even John, who’s looming over you as you realize he’s going to crawl over top of you.

You open your mouth to scream and a pathetic yowl barely makes it out of your throat. Then John chuckles. His legs wall yours in on either side, and he’s warm, so warm. Were his eyes always this pretty?

“John…” you manage to form, almost a whisper.

“Hi,” he says, smiling, and leans in to kiss your mouth, adjusting his body so he lies directly on top of you. You force your head to one side, disoriented but not incapable of evading him. “Don’t do that.” He says, calm, dark, almost immediately, almost as though he expected the rebuff. “Don’t do that, be good. Be good for me.”

His hands find your face and he turns your head with ease to look up at him. He steals the kiss he wanted, pauses, then dives in for more. He’s more forceful than any kiss you remember, a lot of need like lightning in a jar. And it doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel good either.

You try to squirm and your body actually cooperates. But he’s too solid, too insistent, too adept for you to escape. He bites onto your lip, a euphoria spread across his features that almost…turns you on. What. The.

“Ha ha,” he laughs aloud, quiet, throaty, predatory. “Wow, look at you change. Night and day difference.” He undoes the buttons on your shirt with efficiency, despite your wriggling attempts to put him off.

“I’ve never seen you so happy. I know I only see you when you’re working, that’s understandable, but this.” He bites again, quicker. Harder on your bottom lip till it feels a little tender, not quite bloody when you part. “Pretty baby, doesn’t it feel good to tell the truth?”

And it escapes you. And you don’t know how. But there’s no denying it’s a whimper, and it’s needy.

“So pretty…” John compliments the noise you make, and inches himself a little further down your body to kiss your neck. He finds another spot near the base of your neck that makes you squirm and buck against him without meaning to.

“Please,” you get out. “Don’t.” But how much do you mean it? The drugs are messing with your head and even a refusal sounds heady with lust.

“Your pretty mouth is such a liar, huh?” His hands all too quickly complete the task of exposing your chest and tummy to him and John stops to take you in. You’re beautiful. Even better than he imagined. “That’s okay, because I don’t especially need words out of you. Just lie back and let me take care of you.”

___

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

#tell me your secrets #john tyler #john tyler headcanons #hamfam smut #tmys #nsft #my blabber #anon i did get a little trapped in the exposition - i often do #i promise yall sex in pt 2 lmao #john tyler x reader

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storiesundercandlelight · 3 months

Text

The Lessons of Mistakes

So I decided to go ahead and write the Geoffrey fic about him drinking the blood of Arthur and later worrying about becoming a vampire...so here we go! Unedited for now! I'll come back and fix mistakes later! <3

Geoffreys feet carried him slowly and unsteadily through the streets of London as he made his way back to Priwen's current hideout. His breath was laboured, his muscles ached, bruises from the fight with Reid littered his skin. But wounds and bruises Geoffrey could deal with, it was the gnawing feeling of anxiety that was making the walk back so difficult.

God you're a fool. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind when he threw his head back, drinking the dark liquid from the vial. It wasn't until Reid had put him on his knees and scoffed at his stupidity that Geoffrey considered why the blood of Arthur was such a valuable enhancement. "You're going to become the very thing you hate the most McCullum, did you even consider the consequences? Leaving not only your men but the woman you love behind as well?"

He hadn't. He'd selfishly pushed all thoughts of both of those things to the back of his mind when he'd made the trip to Pembroke to confront Reid. Now as he approached the base it was all he could think of. And for the first time in many years, Geoffrey felt broken.

He felt the weight of sadness, helplessness, anger, so many emotions pilling up on his shoulders. He wanted to scream, to curse himself for making such a stupid decision, and for what? His pride? His own need to rid the world of leeches? Even now he knew deep down that Reid was different, why couldn't he have come to that revelation before he'd tipped the blood of a potential vampire down his throat?

It took a moment for Geoffrey to realise he'd stopped walking, the entrance to the base was just across the street but he couldn't move. His eyes flicked up to the window where he knew you were waiting for him, a faint light flickering behind the closed drapes. Of all the things he'd put you through, the danger he'd introduced into your life just by being a part of it, none of that compared to what he was about to do. To tell you after everything, all the battles he'd come back from, all the fear and hardships you'd both gone through, this was the last night he'd have with you.

-------

The silence was so thick Geoffrey was sure it was the reason he was finding it hard to breathe. He didn't move though, his feet stayed firmly planted to the same spot in the middle of the room he'd been stood in for the last ten minutes. That's all it had taken. Well, five really, then the rest of the minutes ticked by like hours as you sat there on the edge of the bed staring at him. Your eyes almost as red as his tired and beaten ones were, but yours he knew were red from the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.

Geoffrey wasn't sure what he wanted, your anger? Maybe he wanted you to scream at him, hit him over and over for being so stupid, to throw things, to let rage take over. But then again maybe that was what he wanted himself to do. But instead you just sat there, jaw tight as you continued to stare at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry" Even his voice didn't carry the way he'd intended it to, it was hoarse, rough and tired, all but breaking as he tried to hold in whatever emotions were trying to claw their way out of him.

"So am I" you whispered. Geoffrey watched as you took in a deep but shaky breath, your eyes falling to the floor as you continued to sit there. He knew in this moment that seeing you angry would be easier for him, seeing the pain and sadness on your face was heartbreaking in a way he didn't even want to think about let alone be feeling himself.

"I don't know for sure - the leech - Reid, didn't tell me if he knew what would happen" Geoffrey took his own deep breath now, letting it go and his eye close as he shook his head. "I suppose I can see why he didn't want to be helpful"

"Perhaps he doesn't know either, he hasn't been an Elon very long" You were still staring at the floor, your voice quiet but lacking the shake that it had earlier. "I don't know what to do"

"Maybe I should leave, or tell the lads what's happened, have them lock me up until we know. Then they can take care of it."

"Take care of it? Geoffrey it's you we're talking about" Your eyes flicked back up to meet his, your brows coming together not in anger but pure frustration and helplessness. "No. You're staying here, in this room. You've taught me what to do and...and I don't want to spend what could be your last night with you locked away and not being able to be with you"

"It's too risky to do it like that, if I do turn you'll be right beside me, what if I can't control myself?"

"Then I won't have to spend the rest of my life alone" Hearing those words come from your lips hurt Geoffrey more than his stupidity. He may not have accepted it before but he was important to you, more important than anyone. You had sacrificed so much, been through so much together, the very idea of losing you would have sent him into a blind rage of agony. So of course if would feel the same for you.

The building Priwen was currently calling home was quiet, only the occasional pattern of footsteps were heard as Geoffrey laid down beside you on the bed, his weapons and jacket discarded haphazardly on his desk, except for his gun, which he placed beside you, loaded with silver.

You turned your head to Geoffrey, wrapped in his arms Geoffrey felt you push closer to him. This could be it. How could it be that the moment he finally found an ounce of happiness in his life, he goes and makes the biggest mistake of his life. He would never be able to touch you, to kiss you or laugh with you again, he wouldn't be there to see Priwen put an end to the leech problem. Hell if they even can.

But tonight, for however many hours he might have left he can at least spend them by your side. "I want to kiss you"

"When have you ever asked permission to kiss me?" You smirked, he remembered the first time you had kissed, you were sad, angry and blabbering endlessly until he had crushed his lips into yours. This time is wasn't like that. This time you kissed like it could be the last, you knew very well it could be. It was slow, familiar, full of emotion.

You kissed each other like you'd done a hundred times before, but this time it felt different, a frantic need scratching at both of your hearts begging both not to stop, to never stop. A part of Geoffrey knew that undressing you was a bad idea, he didn't know when he would turn if he does and the both of you being undressed and wrapped around each other didn't seem like the best scenario to put yourselves in. But he didn't care, he needed you. And by the way you pulled his clothes off just as fast he knew you felt the same.

Your bodies moved slowly against each other, you both trying desperately to drag this moment out for as long as you could, Geoffrey felt your arms pull his down closer as he moved his hips, relishing each small gasp that feel from your lips. God if he is going to die he wants this memory to stay with him wherever he ends up.

He brushed away the tear that slipped down the side of your face as you looked up at him, trying your best to lock every little feature of him into your memory, every scar, the colour of his eyes, the curve of his lips when he smiled. It was painful. So painful that tears kept filling your eyes, you couldn't lose him. Not now. Geoffrey felt your grip on him tighten, you foreheads pressed together, gentle kisses were places between shallow breaths as you clung to each other until the end.

It was late, almost dawn you imagined. Hours had passed since you and Geoffrey laid in bed holding each other. The room had the faint chill of the morning winter air, but Geoffrey made you both get dressed just in case so you weren't cold. But the shaking that racked through your body had nothing to do with the cold. You were nervous, every little noise raising the hairs on your arms. Geoffreys sleep heavy breathing the only other sound in the room as your fingers laced through his hair over and over. His head rested on your lap, his gun rested in your other hand.

You had been like this for an age, your legs were stiff and your back begged you to lie down but you remained sitting upright, half in fear of waking Geoffrey up but also half in fear of not being in a vulnerable position if the worst happens. Time went on, your eyes grew heavy, your body screamed, your heart raced in anxiety at what was to come. Waiting was never a game you liked to play, but this felt like torture.

It was only when Geoffrey moved that your eyes snapped opened again, your hand gripping onto the gun, your body tensing and your breath stopping in its tracks. Geoffrey was waking up.

#vampyr #vampyr game #vampyr 2018 #geoffrey mccullum #geoffrey mccullum x reader #geoffrey vampyr

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ry0chann · 2 years

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fuck it, no longer embarrassed about wanting to fuck Kira. though i will still tell you to look away, simply bc he's another bad guy i seem to have fallen for 🙄

warnings: afab!reader, vaginal penetration, Kira's infamous hand fetish, some clit stim, creampie, cum eating, this is arguably vanilla. idk i'm just hrny

he's got you on your back, your legs are spread for him, he's lining up at your entrance, but, he doesn't push all the way in. his swollen head slips into your cunt, you both hiss at the feeling, and then he stops moving. you're too worked up to sit here and be teased, yet you know you hold little authority over him so you don't complain too much. just a quick & whiny "please" to hint at what you want.

the man hums, grabbing your wrists and placing both your hands at the base of his cock. the skin to skin contact makes him groan, and through a shaky breath he says, "put it in for me." he doesn't need the help, he just wants you to touch him. so you do as you're told, but he's already starting to rock his hips a little, trying to rut against your palms as you attempt to fit his inches in your warmth.

impatiently, you wrap your legs around his waist and force him all the way in, bringing your hands to your chest just so they're out of the way. he's quick to find momentum, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole just as desperately as you would've hoped for. his eyes are glued to the sight of you groping your breasts, a dangerous flicker behind his stare that does nothing but excite you.

unable to control himself, he takes hold of your hand, bringing it up to his mouth. your fingertips press against his lips, and he kisses them softly. he makes eye contact with you, darting out his tongue and languidly twirling it around your fingers. your digits are soon stationed in the man's mouth, Kira, sucking on them the way an animal nurses its mother. he moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

his pace starts to pick up simply because the lust he feels is becoming overwhelming. you can feel it too. your cunt gets tight around him and your stiff clit begs for some attention. needily, you circle the bud, moaning at the additional pleasure it brings. the man on top of you grunts, pulling your hand from his mouth and dragging it down his bare chest.

he selfishly grabs the hand you were using to pleasure yourself with, licking on your sticky fingers with a moan at tasting your juices on them. you can feel his cock throb inside you, the excitement in your stomach building, knowing he'd be finishing any second now. you start playing with your clit again, causing yourself to clench around his length. the feeling drives him insane — that, and having such perfect fingers in his mouth, has him over the moon.

before you know it he's cumming deep inside you, flooding your pussy with thick ropes as you cream all over his cock. he pulls out faster than you would've liked him too, cum spilling from your cunt. he uses your fingers to scoop it up, giving himself a taste of the mess. the mixture of your cum and his dripping down your fingers had him seeing stars. the taste on his tongue makes him moan, that tangy flavor keeping his dick hard.

#this was much longer than i expected it to be 😃#[ jjba thirsts ]#jojo’s bizarre adventure #yoshikage kira #jjba x reader #kira yoshikage x reader

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kinghijinx22 · 11 months

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Top 5 Canonical Pansexual Characters

So I recently made a post about why one of my all time favourite characters Mae Borowski from Night in the Woods is amazing pansexual representation and how the way her feelings are portrayed felt very accurate to my own. In that post I also said that there isn't enough pan rep, which is true and to prove my point I made a list of the only 5 undeniably canon pansexual characters I know of also 2 of them are from Steven Universe which is almost cheating to pull examples from. This is my ranking of all 5 of those characters based on how good they are as rep because I thought this would be a fun list to make and it's still Pride Month so yeah.

5. Willow Park (the Owl House)

So the Owl House is my favourite thing out of all the things mentioned on this list and Willow is my second favourite character here overall, but the way her being pan is handled is non existent in the show. There is nothing that even hints at it and Dana Terrace only announcing after the show seems disingenuous. I'm not too mad because the show already has plenty of queer rep that is fleshed out and sincere, but in the case of Willow it feels like Dana trying to retroactively cover all her basis. Besides this Willow is still a great character though, very likable, plant magic is cool and she has a great arc of finding her confidence and following her passion for sports.

4. Rose Quartz (Steven Universe)

An incredibly complex character that people with no media literacy love to hate. The idea that you witness her redemption character arc in reverse and how you only have word of mouth and flashbacks to go off of because she's actually dead throughout the whole show is kind of genius. As pan rep though, her orientation is left pretty vague. Like we know that she loved Greg and that Pearl loved her but whether Rose reciprocated Pearl's feelings is never answered. It's implied that she might have been polyamorous with a bunch of people and that it included Pearl but then Rose decided that she want a monogamous relationship with Greg and that's why Pearly became jealous of him. But again this is never explored beyond very vague hints.

3. Sadie Miller (Steven Universe)

Most likeable human character from Steven Universe and easily one of the best side characters. I like her arc of really finding herself throughout the show like when she quits her excruciating job at the Big Doughnut and discovers her passion for singing. She also discovers who she likes throughout the show when she is shown crushing on guys, gals and nonbinary pals throughout the show, eventually settling down with her enby partner Shep. While Shep is only in one episode near the end of the show they are pretty cool and they are really cute with Sadie as a couple.

2. Finn McNamara (Life is Strange 2)

This one is kind of weird to me because while I do like Finn overall and can sympathise with his backstory, the fact that they lock his romance with Sean behind making some morally bad decisions does have some pretty messed up implications behind it. Because there are 2 romance options in Life is Strange 2 between a girl named Cassidy and a guy name Finn and they make the Cassidy romance the one that's easier to get because it just shows up when you choose not to rob the weed farm guys, meanwhile you have to choose to go with Finn to use Daniel's powers to help them with the heist. Now the weed farm guys are assholes and you do need the money and Finn does have some good motivations, but he's also thinking selfishly and putting Sean's brother Daniel in danger and teaching him to use his telekinesis powers to get what he wants. By locking the same sex romance option behind the morally bad decision you are tying queerness to inherent deviance which sucks. Having said that, Finn does have a sympathetic backstory of being homeless after being used and betrayed by his father in his own drug business and I do believe he does want to make life better for his friends. Also the way that him being pansexual specifically is explained in the game is a very accurate portrayal. When Sean asks him who he likes Finn replies with "I don't see gender, I see people", which shows that Finn is genderblind when it comes to his orientation which has always been a pretty good way of explaining what being pan is like. I appreciate Finn for being overt Pansexual rep, the only dude pansexual rep as well and he is a likeable character overall even if his romance path carries some problematic implications when you compare it to the same sex option with Cassidy.

1. Mae Borowski (Night in the Woods)

One of the best protagonists from one of my favourite games. I love how nonconforming Mae is in every sense of the word. She's openly queer and refuses to conform to societies gender expectations. She's a cool cat person who plays bass in a band with her friends. Always speaks her mind, does what she wants and is unapologetically herself. Also an incredibly nice person at heart even if her bluntness and inability to read the room sometimes leads to some not great situations. A heavily flawed but still amazing character. She also happens to be pan which is very accurately portrayed throughout the story which I wrote a post about. To summarize, she explicitly states in one scene that she doesn't care about the gender of a person but she just wants to date someone that is tough and cool and "GRRR." There's a bunch of other stuff that she says throughout the game but it's also revealed that she has an ex who is a guy named Cole and she develops intimate feelings for a girl she meets at a party known as "Bombshell." Mae is an amazing character who I deeply relate to on a lot of levels and also admire for her ability to be herself and not care what other people think.

Picture sources

Mae Borowski - yorunowaltz on Tumblr

Finn McNamara - all ya faves are gay, matey on Tumblr

Sadie Miller - editsteven on Tumblr

Rose Quartz - Your Fave Loves And Supports LGBT+ People on Tumblr

Willow Park - (1) Daily LGBTQ+ Characters on Tumblr

#pride month #pansexual #pan #queer #the owl house #willow park #rose quartz #steven universe #Sadie miller #finn mcnamara #life is strange #mae borowski #night in the woods

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monsterhunting · 2 months

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📖 and ♥ for the ask meme?

thank you for asking!!!

📖"what has surprised you about your WIPs?"

hmmmmmmmm idk. maybe lately i feel like i’ve been coming up with a lot of jonathan focused fic ideas. a lot of them aren’t really like Ideas™️ worthy enough of being a google doc WIP but still. anyway it’s surprising bc i like jonathan of course but out of the main teens he is not my favorite. in fact my ranking would probably go steve > nancy > robin > jonathan. and yet!!!! many jonathan ideas lately

❤️"what are your favorite scenes from your WIPs?"

ok so I had three!!!! one is from a Stonathan WIP and the other is from a Robin pov stoncy + rovickie + platonic stobin WIP but I will put them under the cut so it doesn’t get too long

sooooo for context and without giving too much away i have a stonathan WIP where steve is a ghost that only jonathan can see and near the end they’re trying to get him back from the upside down which is where he died bc they think they can bring him back and jonathan volunteers to do it alone. i actually have no idea how they’re going to figure this out or how they’ll bring him back when he’s theoretically dead!!!! hopefully one day i’ll figure it out. anyway here’s the scene:

But when Jonathan opens the door, he finds Nancy and Robin behind it.

“We’re coming with you,” Robin says without preamble.

Jonathan sighs. “Robin — ”

“He’s my best friend,” Robin says, and Jonathan’s mouth snaps shut at the tremor in her voice. “He’s the most important person in the fucking world to me, so if there’s even the slightest chance he’s alive down there then, yeah, I’m going.”

Jonathan blinks, then slowly looks to Nancy.

“I’m going, too,” she adds, and when Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, she continues, “Jonathan, you’ve never even been to the Upside Down. Me and Robin have. Twice. Actually, it’s been three times for me, and I survived all of them. If anything, you need my help.”

Jonathan sighs again. “Guys — ”

“No, don’t even think about saying something like — like — like it’s too dangerous, or whatever,” Robin says. “So what? You think you get to be the one to sacrifice your safety for Steve all because he was just some ghostly shadow hanging over your shoulder for a couple of weeks?”

“Robin — ”

“Byers,” Robin cuts in. “I’m fucking going, alright?”

Jonathan lets out a heavy breath, and then, finally, says, “Alright.”

“And don’t think that I won’t — ”

“Robin, I said okay!”

Robin’s mouth snaps shut.

Nancy raises her eyebrows. “Okay?” She repeats.

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. Robin blinks, and Nancy’s eyebrows arch higher. “I mean, I know I should try to stop you, but…” He trails off, then admits, selfishly, “I really don’t want to do this alone.”

and then the next two are from the robin pov part two of you can hear it in the silence. the first scene takes place right after nancy calls steve about their “date”, and then steve promptly calls robin back home panicking and freaking out about said “date.” the second scene is a bit later when steve, nancy, and jonathan are already “dating”:

“Who was that on the phone?” Her mom asks as Robin returns to her seat at the kitchen table.

“Steve,” Robin answers before taking a bite of her mashed potatoes.

Her mom snorts fondly. “Course it was.” She takes a bite of mashed potatoes, too, then pauses. “Rob…are you sure you two aren’t — ”

Robin sighs. “Mom. Yes, I’m sure.”

She raises her hands in defense. “Okay, okay. Just checking. Again.”

“We’re just friends,” Robin says for the millionth time. Then she adds, for proof, “Actually, he was calling me to tell me he’s going on a date this week.”

Her mom’s eyebrows arch. “Oh? Who’s the lucky lady?”

Robin shifts in her seat. “Oh, uh. Just…one of our friends.”

“And how about you, Robbie?” Her dad asks. “Meet somebody nice up in Chicago yet?”

And the thing is — Robin likes her parents. Her dad is quiet, if a little absent-minded, and her mom isn’t her best friend the way some of the girls in her classes gush about. But they’re both good people. They give a dollar to homeless people when they pass them in the city, they recycle. They didn’t even vote for Reagan — although that’s mainly because they didn’t vote, period. Since Robin was a kid, her parents have always been the kind of people who claim they hate politics, who never watch the news because it’s too depressing.

But her parents are good people, and Robin likes them. She loves them, and what’s more, they love her, too. She knows that. She’s never had to question that.

And she’s terrified that one day she will.

So Robin just says, “Nope, not yet,” forces a smile, and takes another bite of mashed potatoes.

“So, how are things with Nance and Jonathan?” Robin asks.

Steve smiles. “Really good.” He opens his mouth to say more, then snaps it shut, as though he’s suddenly embarrassed.

Robin nudges him with her foot. “What?”

Steve fiddles with the throw pillow in his lap for a moment. “I think I love them,” he admits.

Robin feels herself start to smile. “Yeah?”

Steve glances up and nods. He’s starting to smile, too. “Yeah. God, so much. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“Why’s that embarrassing?”

“I don’t know.” Steve sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve been a little in love with them since sophomore year? So — it just feels like a lot, I guess.”

“Hey,” Robin says sternly. “Your feelings are not a lot.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant, like…” Steve trails off. “I don’t know, it feels intense. I just feel so…full of it, sometimes. Like I’m going to explode, or something crazy, and I’ve never — I mean, even when I was dating Nancy…well, I was in love with her, obviously, but I guess with everything going on…even then, it never felt like this.” He laughs a little, sounding embarrassed. “I don’t know. I guess that sounds really lame, but I — it’s like I’ve never felt this happy.”

“Steve,” Robin says softly. “That’s amazing.”

Steve makes a face, ducking his head to fiddle with the throw pillow again.

“Seriously, I mean it,” Robin says. “You should tell them.”

#ask #MaryPSue

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winns-stuff · 1 year

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LO RANT:

I hope whenever we see Demeter again she goes absolutely apeshit. I’m so sick and tired of seeing so many people bag on her for no reason. That’s Persephone’s MOTHER at the end of the day and she’s literally in a relationship with a man that she met at a party while she was drunk.. And then they had an interaction for two weeks thinking that they were in love. I find it really funny how everyone’s always bringing up Persephone’s nativity and saying how she doesn’t know a lot about stuff (even now that she’s 30 she still makes dumb decisions like she’s 19… oh wait, she’s forever in that damn mindset because lord forbid Persephone actually age and get wrinkles and eye-bags from working and such) but when it comes to her and Hades being together she’s all of a sudden aware of herself and how relationships work?

Like this has been on my mind for quite some time and I have no clue how Persephone being naive doesn’t hold weight when she’s in a relationship with a man she’s met for only two weeks and got separated from for ten YEARS. She barely knew what relationships meant when she came to Olympus and she never even tried to date around to get some experience. It’s completely and utterly insane to say that Persephone isn’t being naive when she believes that what she and Hades has is true love, like everyone loves to say she was sheltered and she doesn’t know any better. Which is a very understandable reason of why Demeter is so worried about Persephone being with Hades, so many people are completely bought with this idea that she’s just trying to use her and that she’s trying to live vicariously through Persephone since she never got to do many things since she was forced to be in a literal WAR when she was Persephone’s age but it doesn’t hold weight at all. When have we ever seen Demeter trying to force her ideals on Persephone? You can say “she made Persephone do all of those classes!!” but I disagree because she only did that because Persephone did her AOW and took out a whole village of innocent people for no reason except she was upset. Besides, Persephone’s only interest in the earlier season told us how much she enjoyed school and studying. I’m not understanding how Demeter was torturing her by letting her do things she already enjoyed doing in the first place.

So many people are okay with calling Demeter a bad mother and saying how terrible she is but you’re all not realizing that Persephone is in more danger with Hades than she ever was with Demeter. All of her problems sprouted when she met him since there was so many people from her own friend/support group manipulating the situation and putting Persephone in an unfavorable position all for the sake of Hades, not even regarding how she’d feel in this situation. She almost died in Tartarus yet Hades barely did an investigation or any real improvements in order to help her. He also continuously and selfishly might I add made decisions for her while trying to hide under this lame statement of “whenever you’re ready” or “I trust you”. It was bullshit, he’s never truly trusted Persephone with anything except for his emotions which he dumped on her without a second thought, not even asking if she’s in the right mindset for substituting for his therapist (which she wasn’t) and only made things worse for her because he can’t stand not staring at her and sexualizing her. He’s always been a whiny creep who manipulates literally everything and everyone, he never truly cared about Persephone he just needed someone to whine too.

Yet Demeter is the worst one out of both of them? Demeter gets the bad reputation? She’s the crazy and insane one? She’s the one who disregards Persephone’s emotions and feelings? I guess it’s fine when everyone else does it but it’s absolutely horrific when she does right? Yeah I genuinely hope she banishes Persephone from ever stepping foot on HER land and I hope she lets everyone who wronged her have it. Including those she trusted to look out for Persephone, it’s sick that they just allowed her to go anywhere and didn’t actually care about her. Yet they’re the good guys? Makes total sense.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lo demeter

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inanoldhousewrites · 2 years

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A Conversation Under the Stars

The keep's door closed behind him, taking the light and sound with it, leaving Jaskier in the dark, silent night. Inside, the witchers continued their night of remembering their fallen brothers, grieving their loss and celebrating their lives in turn, but boisterous either way. Jaskier found himself craving solitude, out of place at the memorials of those he didn't know.

He settled on the steps, wrapping his borrowed cloak more securely, and cupped both his hands around his mug of mulled wine in a losing attempt to stay warm. Looking up, he found he was unable to distinguish the stars from the snow driven off of the ramparts of the keep.

In a short burst of light and sound, the door opened just enough to let a figure slip out into the night. A few seconds later, Geralt settled beside him.

After a moment’s silence, Jaskier spoke. “I’m sorry about your brothers. I didn’t know them well, but they seemed like good men.”

“Thank you. They were,” Geralt rumbled from beside him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help or to save them. Or to, well, anything.”

“You’re just a bard.” Jaskier can’t tell if Geralt’s tone is supposed to be accusatory or absolving. “Not really one to fight monsters.”

An affinity for music doesn’t seem like an excuse to cower under a table while men die. Not from someone who has spent the last year in danger’s shadow as the Sandpiper. He had learned to take a stand, but it seemed he had fallen into old habits when surrounded by witchers.

But he didn’t have it in him to speak these thoughts aloud, so he let the wind drive them away like the flurries.

“You’re quiet,” Geralt broke the peace. “What are you thinking so hard?”

“Selfish thoughts, mostly. I wonder if any died because I left Oxenfurt to help you and wasn't there to help them get to safety. But I can’t bring myself to regret it. Selfishly, I would burn the world down for you.” As soon as he said it, he realized it was much less of a metaphor than he would have liked, looking down at his damaged hands.

“I would never ask you to.”

“No, you never would. But that only makes it more true.”

A particular sharp wind blew, slipping between Jaskier and his cloak. He wrapped it tighter, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Geralt was as unmoved by the gust as he claimed to be about everything. Feelings welled within Jaskier and he spoke again.

“It’s funny. I’ve loved you, I’ve been angry at you, and now, I just grieve for you. A man so controlled by destiny, against his own wishes.” Jaskier craned his neck, looking deep into the night sky. “You know, some say destiny is written in the stars. It’s a bit beyond my powers to read the heavens, though. I wonder what else they say about you, what future lies ahead for one so touched by fate.”

“This is unusually morose for you, Jaskier.”

“Sometimes a smile is too heavy a thing for me to carry. I have to put it down occasionally.”

Geralt hummed but didn’t respond otherwise. Jaskier expected no different.

“I have to go back. I can’t burn armies or rescue princesses or portal to other worlds. But one small, unimportant life at a time, I can get people to safety. It won’t turn the tides of the war, it won’t march destiny along to her intended destination. But it needs doing, and I can.”

“And yet you left it when I asked.” Geralt’s rumbled response made a puff of mist in front of his mouth, and Jaskier absently noticed the cup in his hands was no longer giving off steam. He closed his eyes before responding.

“Yes, I already mentioned my weakness. You said you needed me, and I would do anything for you. But you don’t need me now. Your destiny lies bound up with Ciri and even with Yennefer, and you’ve never been one to shirk your path. And now, neither am I. But you know I will help you and you know where to find me, if ever you need me again.”

“What if I want you?”

Jaskier laughed, neither merry nor bitter. “I’ve lived twenty years of my life based on that question. What if you want me?” He stared into the darkness, feeling Geralt’s eyes on him for the first time that night. “When you decide if you do, I’ll decide if that changes anything.”

Geralt didn’t reply. Instead, he stood and walked back into the keep. There was a flash of warmth, light and sound, and then Jaskier was alone, wrapped in a borrowed cloak, holding a now-cold drink, and staring up at the stars.

#mine #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier ficlet #geraskier #post season 2 #open ending #basically a Jaskier monologue

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