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theimpurelily · 7 months

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1: You Still Care

Word Count: 2,390

Notes: Second part of Forget-Me-Not

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Never in his life had Riftan ever felt such hatred for paper. Out of the countless correspondents he had written never before had he felt such trepidation toward putting his words on paper. There was no need for this, Riftan had long ago let go of any anxiety he felt towards his penmanship or grasp on the common tongue. So why, why after years of writing painfully boring correspondence for people he couldn’t tolerate, could he not write her one simple letter?

It wasn’t for lacked of time, he had already been at Anatol for a few days now, having finally come home, finally away from the infuriated nobles at Drachium and finally away from Gabel and Hebaron’s constant pestering and ‘advise’ that he would never admit was possibly helpful. That not being said, part of him wished they had never opened their mouths. Their words did nothing but fill his head and dreams with visions of Maxi in ways he had never imagined before, leaving him too restless in the morning for his liking, like a teenager who couldn’t control himself anymore.

It wasn’t for lack of content, not really, however nothing he had didn't feel suitable to write down. Telling her about the bandits they had dispatched on the way to Drachium might only make her worry and no force on earth could make him to tell her of the noble woman he had to kick out of his chambers on the first night they stated at the capital or how more than one noble whispered the word pagan not so subtly under their breath as he walked by.

No, none of that was necessary to tell her.

Riftan looked down at the letter in his hands, trying his best to ignore the several others that laid crumpled up or ripped apart at his feet. He knew he needed to finish by today, his men were already prepared to go for their possibly months-long excursion to remedy their money issue before he ‘ruined’ them as Ruth so eloquently put it.

It was a necessary trip that he wasn’t looking forward to.

No matter how hard he tried, some cruel force seemed to believe it necessary to keep him away from home. True, he would leave in a heartbeat if he knew the destination would lead to her, but this wasn’t the case and he desperately wanted to just be home for a moment. To have time to examine his lands and keep watch over the construction, to try and see some improvement in his work, to keep an eye on the people who had placed their loyalty so quickly onto his shoulders.

As he rubbed his hand over his face with one hand his other started to run his thumb over the dried ink on the page, staying quiet for a moment before letting out a dejected sigh that echoed against the barren stone walls of his chambers. Out of every letter he had ever written, why did the one for her have to feel so…impersonal.

It was a terribly short letter, with only real mention that he had arrived back at Anatol safe and on the progress of the wall's construction since she seemed interested in that before and made sure to inform her that he would not be home for some time, though he remained vague as to why and…not much else.

It felt strange to write down anything of real detail. Part of him was still worried about the boy she had put her faith in with their letters. Until he felt secure, he didn’t feel the need to risk putting too much on paper.

What good would it do if someone else read how painfully and pathetic he missed her?

How often he found himself looking out at the barren garden and thought of her?

How during his travels, he would catch himself remembering the feeling of her hair in his hands or how it looked shining in the sunlight as he watched the firelight dance.

How badly he just wanted to hold her again, to be swept away by the sound of her voice or the smell of her perfume. Just let her presence sweep away the worries of the world where he could forget for just a moment of the people in Anatol who revered him in a way that made his heart heavy, of Ruth’s worrying over his stay at Drachium or his constant nagging for them to figure out how to rebuilt his land before caused his fortune to run dry.

He couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that crept up his throat as he set the letter down. He wished so desperately she was here, words always seemed to feel so meaningless. He would much rather show how he felt than write it down. But fate wouldn’t allow it, she wasn’t here, she would never be here.

Without really thinking, Riftan slowly moved his hand to touch the stone hanging around his neck. If some day, he found the stone had turn smooth from how often he touched it he wouldn't be surprised. Lately he had found himself toying with it even when during the rare times he wasn’t wearing it and, more often than not, Riftan would wake up to his hand tightly clutching the stone, leaving little marks on the palm of his hand. He wouldn't mind if the marks never left, in some pathetic way it made him feel like there was some part of her that was there to greet him in the morning.

He smiled a little at the thought of that, of being able to wake up with her face being the first thing he sees, her voice the first thing he would hear. Riftan felt his chest start to feel tight as he swallowed down any hope of that happening.

She’ll never be here, just be thankful for what you are allowed to have.

Riftan let out a frustrated sigh as he eventually gave up and resigned himself to the fact that he would ultimately never be satisfied with any letter he sent off. A small part of him wanted to add in more, possibly tell her why he would be gone, however he felt a little…hesitant to do so. Though he knew there wasn’t any point in worrying. There was no need to make her worry or to think poorly of him that he had to resort to this, to hunting down monsters of the dragon subspecies. Harvesting the various profitable parts from high-grade monsters such as drakes, wyverns, and basilisks just so he could keep Anatol going for a year.

Deep down, part of him knew she wouldn’t think that, there had been no look of disdain in her eyes when he mentioned him being a mercenary but still that small little voice, he had pushed down would still find its way back up, gnawing away at him each time he felt just a small hint of anxiety.

Despite all this, the worry of his words and the wish to not put her in danger if the letter were to fall into the wrong hands he did give in and added one last line before sealing the letter.

In the end the excursion was more than worth it.

Not only had Riftan and his men successfully gone about exterminating drakes and other subdragon, harvesting them for everything they are worth, they had also been able to accept commissions from nobles to deal with other threats. At one point, Riftan even found himself taking part in a sword tournament held at the border simply for the prize money.

To no one's surprise, there had been plenty of criticism thrown his way as he ‘lowered’ himself, tarnishing his knightly honor. It didn’t matter what faceless nobles thought of him, it wasn’t as if they held him in high regard before. They seemed to only see him for his skin, marking him as less than, an imposter who was blemish on their high society.

Though he may have been forced to spend months away from home, away from the letter he hoped was waiting for him, Riftan was able to amass all the gold in Wedon’s southwestern parts. This, of course, made Ruth extremely happy.

“Soon, we’ll be the wealthiest in all of the southern region!”

Riftan was busy trying to not stare a hole into the neatly stacked pile of unopened letters waiting for him to go through while Ruth practically bounced with excitement as he opened a chest of gold coins.

“By God, did you stumble across a grave of a hundred basilisks?” said the mage, his eyes sparkling. “How on earth did you manage to obtain so much treasure?”

Riftan shrugged, his eyes darting between the mage and the letters. “A historical site. Just luck, I suppose.”

“You’re like a bloodhound with gold, I tell you!”

The mage chuckled as he weighed the coins one at a time, after which the servants placed them back inside the chest before taking them to the vault. Riftan watched the process, trying to keep his mind off the letters. He would like nothing more than to shoo away Ruth or simply take the pile of letters and rush off to go through them until he found hers. The only thing holding him back was the fact he didn’t wish Ruth to notice. He knew Riftan, knew he hated receiving any sort of letters since they nearly always called him away from home. For him to suddenly wish to drop everything to read one would only bring attention to it. So, he kept his attention on the treasure being taken away until Ruth spoke.

“Do you think that site was the tomb of an ancient queen? Every other treasure beside the coins are all female adornments.”

Riftan flinched ever so slightly. Ruth leaned forward to inspect an elaborate crown studded with emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and topaz. Next to it was a pile of bracelets, earrings, diamond necklaces, rings, silver hair ornaments, and a gilded jewelry chest. As the mage said, they were all items meant for a woman.

After thoroughly appraising the haul, Ruth grumbled, “You should have just sold them and returned with more gold. These would be a tough sell to anyone but the big merchant guilds, and they never come to Anatol.”

Riftan did his best to appear nonchalant as he picked a plum from a tray. “I don’t plan on selling them. I will keep them in the vault.”

“It would be more useful exchanging them for gold,” Ruth said, frowning. “Never mind the exorbitant cost of the wall. Do you know how much it costs to employ all the sentries and servants at the castle? The wisest thing to do would be to keep this value in currency in the event of an emergency.”

“We should have enough to run the estate for now. They say precious metals only increase in value over time. We can sell them when the need arises.”

Though the mage appeared unconvinced, he redirected his attention to counting the gold coins as though he could not be bothered pursuing the argument.

Riftan let out a small sigh of relief and picked up one of the earrings, twirling it so that the light would catch and play with the sapphire stone sitting within the dainty jewelry. It was true that at least some of these ornaments had been discovered at the site. Most, however, had been purchased. He knew he would never hear the end of it if the mage were to find out.

How I spend my money is none of his concern , he thought in silent rebuttal to an imagined reprimand. He knew some of the items would be useless, any jewelry he gave Maxi had to be easy for her to hide, whether in her room or on her person. Looking back, he knew the necklace was a poor choice in that regard. It was far too bulky and the chain too short for her to hide with ease. As he placed the small earring down his eyes went towards the crown and he nearly shook his head at the ridiculous purchase, but he couldn't help but smile at the time as he pictured her wearing it.

As soon as Ruth seemed satisfied with how everything had been sorted and handled Riftan made quick work in shooing the mage out of his office, ignoring his complaints as he shut the heavy door in his face. When he could hear Ruth’s footsteps fading away down the corridor, Riftan quickly spun around and tore through the different letters, reading only the first few words of each one until he found one with delicate writing.

He couldn’t explain why, but just holding her writing, tracing his thumb over the small crease on the corner of the page possibly done by her made him feel so unbelievably happy. He hadn't even read her words yet, but he already felt all exhaustion and homesickness fade away as he settled behind his desk to read the letter.

Riftan had to chuckle a little to himself, her letter was just as mundane as his though somehow it seemed twice as long. She didn’t seem to skip out on any details, telling him how the boy did exactly what he was told without any issues, of her days in the garden playing with the cat.

She even went on to tell him of all the different books she had read written and filled so many pages with just her favorite parts and asking a few timid questions on if some of the monsters in the books where accurate or not and quickly told him that she was trying to avoid going too high up the library’s ladders (though he remember telling her to stay off them completely). There were several parts where she seemed curious as to why he was leaving his home so soon, but her words felt cautious as if she could tell he was hesitant to say anything more. It made him feel slightly guilty but that was quickly washed away when he read the last line of her letter that made his stomach flip and his chest warm up.

Please stay safe,

I miss you as well.

#under the oak tree #utot #forget me not #paramour #maxi x riftan #utot fanfic #fanfic #secret romance #riftan calypse #under the oak tree fanfiction

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hanasnx · 7 days

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ohhh my god i haven’t seen anyone talk about riftan in so long??? i used to be so obsessed with him. i wanna sit on his face with his bigass hands locking my thighs around his head so bad

FACE SITTING — riftan calypse.

"Wait, wait just a second—" you protest, appealing to RIFTAN CALYPSE's sense of mercy with your touch on his hair, urging his neck to rear so you can raise yourself.

A simple and curt hum of, "Mm-mm," seats you right back down paired with his strong hands squeezing your thighs in a yank. He knows you're getting cold feet, and he won't let you retreat. His impatience has worn that sense of mercy thin, denying you a breather because he knows what it veils: your uncertainty. When you're with a man like Riftan, indecisiveness will not be tolerated. As soon as you feel the muscles in his arms untense, relaxed by your bare heat seated directly onto his lips, you try one more time. Your legs attempt to unfold.

"Riftan, I can't sit down." you whisper with distress, and those silvery eyes strike you with a single glance, flickering to your gaze high above him yet you still feel small.

"Why?" his deep voice rumbles through you, and you swallow your dry mouth. "Afraid you'll hurt me?" His tone is surprisingly condescending, as if daring a little thing like you to hurt a beast like him. You're incapable of such a thing, as he rudely points out, and you press your lips together to quiet your brewing protests. Harsher this time, his biceps swell as he forces you down, pinning you there with his overpowering strength. You gasp as his mouth opens, catching your folds with wet and eager warmth, lapping at your hole with a grateful fervor. His chin is rough against such sensitive tissue, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he eats you out.

It's difficult to focus. Between the pleasure fighting through your anxieties, you brace your hands on either side of his head, trying to ease the pressure on his neck from your weight in any small way you can. He noses your clit affectionately, swiping a kitten lick through your slit that runs a shiver up your spine from the change of pace.

"Where are you running off to?" he questions amusedly, and you can feel his smile stretch against you. "Keep trying to escape, my love, and I'll have to punish you." it's devoid of conviction, yet you believe him. However, you're sure his and your definitions of punishment are very different. A tremor surfaces in your thighs as you futilely battle his hold on you. "Are you really that scared of me? Don't you feel good?" he coos, the nuzzle on your bud sweetly fuzzying your brain. A long stripe from his tongue makes you whine, clutching the pillow under your hands. "Don't hide from me." Those thick callused fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs and you wince, understanding his tone to be a demand, so you will yourself to relax. Uncomfortable, you push through it, straightening your back to sit solely on his face without a crutch.

"That's it. That's a good girl."

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m-ayo-o · 8 months

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knight & royal

18+ Riftan Calypse is left a little worse for wear after receiving treatment from his princess wc 790 selfshiptember; 13

[au: Riftan ~ regular knight/regular as 6ft 5 perfection can get] was trying to write Megumi. this damn man just wouldn’t stay out of my head. prolly not super accurate just Riftan lovin

You realise the ‘soft spot’ you have for one of your royal knights is quickly spiralling into a full blown crush when he arrives back after a long expedition.

He’s all roughed up, and you just want to rush to his side.

You try to maintain your composure, but internally you’re screaming– one, because you’re overjoyed that he’s back within the safety of the castle walls. Two, because he looks awful, so cut up and bloody, like you’ve never seen him before.

You can’t resist the urge to seek him out, stepping into the medical unit where there are several nurses tending to the knight’s wounds.

Including his.

You’re already making a scene just in being here, but when you approach the nurse and politely ask if you can take over she’s reduced to a blubbering mess. You just quiet her down and instruct her to look after the other men.

So you continue where she left off, washing, bandaging and dressing his wounds silently, carefully, precisely.

The other knights and nurses have long gone as you finish up the last bandage.

He admires your work, exclaiming that you’ve done a much better job than the nurses usually do, commenting on your advanced healing technique you learned from the kingdom’s wizard.

You agree that you’ll take over tending his wounds every time he returns from battle, once again expressing how glad you are that he’s back before taking your leave.

⋆⁺₊⋆

Despite all your due care and attention to his wounds, you fail to notice the state you leave your Knight in.

He all but hobbles to his barracks, stumbling into his private room like some drunken fool.

All his armour is long gone, now he’s quickly stripping away his loose, cotton attire to release his burning, hot body.

You healed him, but left him aching; in his chest, in the pit of his stomach, in his throbbing, hard cock.

He feels the all consuming desire to grab and squeeze himself till he’s cumming to the thought of you.

But he can’t.

You’re his devoted royal, his princess, the reason he fights.

And he’s your knight; loyal, dependable, honourable.

But there’s absolutely nothing honourable about what’s passing through his mind right now.

He’s finally naked, lying on his bed, feeling the ache from the base, right to the tip of his erection.

“ugh–” he brings a hand over his eyes as if he could make the images of you disappear, his chiselled, handsome face covered in such a pretty blush.

He’s so glad you can’t see him right now.

What a mess you’ve made of him.

And so he lies there. Uncomfortable. Undecided. Waiting.

He’s bathed, he’s shaved, he’s eaten, he even attempted to cut his own hair– after being away for so long these things get out of hand.

But nothing is working.

Nothing can distract him from the thought of you.

So he takes to his bed again, feeling rested and cared for in every way, save for one.

But now he’s ready for a deep slumber, his eyes drowsy, his mind fogging as sleep claims him.

Only to dream of you knocking on his door and entering his room, touching him like you were before, your beautiful hands all over his scarred, muscular figure.

His subconscious treats him well, taking those innocent images of you and making them indecent, your clothes vanishing to reveal those perky, sweet breasts he’s never seen, your lips finding his in a kiss that feels simultaneously familiar and unknown.

It’s feverish, a cruel taunt to the steely resolve of his conscious mind.

But you let him fuck you like he hopes you would; taking all of him, rough and hard.

His hands roam over your dreamy figure, squeezing and caressing where possible while he takes you.

He cums so hard it wakes him, feeling the sticky liquid over his abs and sheets.

He sighs and returns to sleep, your images leaving him till morning.

⋆⁺₊⋆

You’re still reeling from how cowardly you behaved last night, leaving his side, unable to tell him how you truly feel.

Upon returning to the comforts of your bedroom, every thought was invaded by him, your head spinning with images of his gorgeous, tanned body, his thankful smile… until you couldn’t take it, your fingers finding your soft little bud that you’ve touched too many times to the thought of him.

And you came undone with his beautiful features in your head; those narrow eyes, his jaw, that mess of raven hair.

Everything about him drove you to reach an orgasm so perfect it made you shudder and gasp his name.

How will you be able to look your sweet Knight in the eyes?

Will you ever be able to confess?

selfshiptember 13!! likes, comments + reblogs appreciated! <3

#riftan calypse #riftan #under the oak tree #uot #under the oak tree riftan #knight riftan #manhwa #uot manhwa #fanfic #smutty fanfiction #fanfiction #uot fanfic #under the oak tree fanfic #under the oak tree imagine #female reader #riftan x reader #18+ content

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cuntastic-mrs-cunt · 16 days

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writing sidina and hebaron is gonna be a BLAST!!!

#under the oak tree #utot #just fanfic things #fanfiction #fanfic #maximilian calypse #riftan calypse #sidina under the oak tree #idk what her last name is i forogt if it was mentioned

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ishaslife · 3 months

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Unbroken Oaths Masterlist

Work on AO3

Introductory post

Houses of Healing - Unbroken Oaths Side Story (contains mild spoilers for the fic as well as UTOT comic)

Hallowcrest Sigil.

Latest chapter - 11: Isolde VII

This will get updated every time I post a new chapter.

Base template for OC: Isolde Hallowcrest

#under the oak tree #fanfic #fanfiction #utot #hebaron nirta #riftan calypse #maximillian calypse #manhwa #korean manhwa #korean webnovel #korean webtoon #korean webcomic #webcomic

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pyrrhocorax · 3 months

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youtube

(tw: bloody hands, brief shot of a baby snake) Trailer for my new fanfiction project. Click below the cut to read more (and link to first chapter).

Yet another summer is just around the corner in the years following the events of Sendlingur og Sandlóa. But this summer is anything but average – instead of their annual get-together, the Nordics are scattered across Europe. Iceland and Norway spend the entirety of the season together alone in the mountains where they learn to see each other in a new light. Finland and Sweden join Estonia and play a game of chess in the countryside under an old oak tree. Denmark, alone, drifts aimlessly, coming to terms with solitude in his own way. The past rears its ugly head. So does the future. A concert is held for the rest of the world to hear, unplugged, without headphones. Cracks start to form slowly, and then all at once. House Sorrows is a story about work, play, pleasure, growth, the trials of adulthood, the struggle of authenticity, the crisis of self-identity, the philosophy of nature, the bonds that connect us to our eventual fate, and an exploration of what being a nationperson even means on an anthropological, ecological, and biological level. If Sendlingur og Sandlóa was a sigh, House Sorrows is the subsequent breath. (Reading SOS is not a requirement to enjoy House Sorrows). (A Nordics+Estonia-centric canon-adjacent fic) FIRST CHAPTER HERE

#hws nordics #aph nordics #hws estonia #aph estonia #hetalia #pyrrhocorax fic #i have been working on this for like six months on and off i'm finally excited to drop it it was fun to make!!!#the irony was not lost on me putting this much effort into a hetalia fanfic. but it was personally very important for me to make

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tatterings · 7 months

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Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 6, "Bracing the Branches"

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: Mature

Tags/warnings: NSFW. Spoilers to the beginning of act 2. Trauma/light SA discussion. A little angst.

Word count: 4.9k

~*REBLOGS VERY APPRECIATED*~ <3

Note: This is the sixth chapter of my first ever fanfiction!

I’ve also posted this on AO3.

Fic under the cut.

The party had chosen to transverse the Mountain Pass, at the insistence of Lae’zel of the promise of a creche hidden there. They had set off for the steep hills in the distance. After a day of travelling just to get to the creche, positioned in a former monastery, they had burst through its rotting doors the following morning before the sun had a chance to rise. To nearly everyone’s chagrin, the Gith inside were also early risers. More disappointment followed when the adventurers discovered the creche was not the Vlaakith-sent gift that Lae’zel had imagined, and the Gith “cure” was a painful death. To survive within the creche, the party had to paint its halls with blood, as hostile Gith met the group around each corner.

During each fight, Halsin had found himself fighting by Astarion’s side. As a sleek black panther, the druid had slunk to ambush foes, paired with the stealthy rogue. Together they’d downed scores of Vlaakith’s faithful with claw and dagger, amidst a symphony of slicing blades and startled shouts. A Gith quartermaster met her end when, just before she had reached Astarion, she was struck down with a mighty swipe from Halsin’s gigantic bear claws. Astarion had gently wiped blood from the cave bear’s muzzle and offered him a scratch behind the ears, after he had padded over to ensure his battle partner was unwounded.

Although the adventurers fought well together, confusion was inevitable when fighting as a group. A mix of shouts, spells, and slashing weapons sent the ruined monastery into chaos. Echoes of “Ignis!” and the clatter of weapons created a deafening ruckus that echoed off the stone walls and shattered stained-glass windows.

But within the dilapidated hallways, Astarion and Halsin created their own microcosm, a symbiotic team of shadow and strength, of slashing daggers and sheer brute force, of poisoned arrows and healing spells. It made the battles a little less daunting. And most importantly for Astarion, a lot more fun.

He delighted in the bloodshed of turning his opponents inside-out. The adrenaline rush during and after combat sent electricity through every nerve ending, and Astarion felt as close to a god as an immortal creature could become. It was even more of a delight when he attacked with his fangs to satisfy his bloodlust temporarily.

Once the adventurers had cleared the Gith forces from the monastery, the sun hung far in the west; it was late evening. After dragging a few bodies out of a large chamber, it made sense to use the ruins as their campground for the night.

**************

Though the ancient monastery’s mighty walls sprawled across the cliff sides, centuries of neglect had left the building crumbling. Nature had waited patiently for an opportunity to return, and she had done so with vigor. Trees, shrubs, and thick tangles of vines created a lush, wild grove within the walls. At Halsin’s request, their chosen campsite opened to a courtyard which teemed with life.

Halsin tucked himself away in the courtyard for a pre-supper respite. His companions were a grand old oak and the birds that sang from its boughs. He reclined against its weather-worn bark, his long legs splayed in front of him. In the druid’s hands tumbled what remained of a broken branch; he’d found it lying beneath the tree. He worked it deftly with a whittling knife. At least an hour passed in pensive quiet - Halsin had amassed small piles of wood shavings at his sides.

The sharp hiss of an arrow streaming overhead broke the silence, followed by a dull thud as it met its mark. The arrow had dug into the bark mere centimeters above Halsin’s head.

His lips turned downward, but not in anger or disappointment. The archer’s aim was objectively impressive. His frown was from the surprise of a scrap of paper tickling his nose. Dangling in his face, tied to the arrow with twine, was a small piece of parchment. Halsin raised a hand to steady it against the breeze. In precise cursive script the color of spilled blood, the note read:

“Room for one more, or are you brooding enough for us both? - ★”

Halsin’s smile spread across his scarred face, and his shoulders shook with a laugh. He plucked the arrow from the bark and rolled its shaft in his fingers.

“I would be happy for you to join me, Astarion,” Halsin announced; it was no shout, as there was no need for his deep voice to carry far. He was positive the vampire was quite close, cloaked in shadow.

Astarion seemed to materialize from the darkness about ten meters away. His perch was the east side of a half-crumbled parapet. His ivory hair seemed ablaze in fire from the orange of the sunset. His pearly smirk sparkled even from a distance and deep red eyes flashed as he sauntered to the druid.

“I appreciate the invitation, my dear,” Astarion drawled, casually kicking away wood shavings at Halsin’s side. “Old habits tend to die hard, you know.”

Halsin helped the vampire brush away debris before patting the ground at his side. Astarion lowered himself to sit, making a show of dusting off his breeches when a twig stuck to them.

“So, what are you up to all by your lonesome?” the pale elf asked, his hand gesturing at the wood shavings. Astarion tilted his head back to peer at Halsin through half-lidded eyes. “I’d jest and say ‘sawing logs’, but snoring is no laughing matter when one’s tent is near Gale,” he finished with a hiss.

Halsin presented his creation: an intricately carved wooden duck, small enough to fit in a person’s palm. “I use fallen branches for whittling things like ornaments, utensils… and ducks,” he explained with a shy grin. “I like ducks.”

“Not a bear?!” Astarion asked with a faux, incredulous gasp, his mouth curved in a fanged smile, “Ducks? You never shared with me your inclination for waterfowl.”

Halsin’s eyes were drawn to the smaller elf’s elegant nose; it was endearing to see it crinkle when he smiled. “Well, personal hobbies haven’t been a discussion topic,” Halsin replied apologetically. “With the tadpole issue, you and your friends have had more pressing matters to discuss.” The druid’s heart fluttered when the vampire’s wry grin pulled further at his handsome laugh lines. “Whittling is something I do to pass time. Conveniently, wherever I roam, there tends to be an abundance of wood.” Halsin regretted his words as soon as he saw the devious flash in Astarion’s ruby-red eyes.

“Darling, I’m quite sure that you could never run out of wood, based on what I felt the other night”, Astarion purred, sliding his delicate hand onto Halsin’s thigh. The druid hissed as he nearly cut his thumb with the whittling knife. One thick auburn eyebrow arched at the smaller elf.

“That is.. an apt observation,” Halsin admitted, a flush rising to his cheeks. The large elf pulled one last knife stroke along the wood grain to form the smooth curve of a wing. “I cannot deny my desires. Once you get to my age, you realize there’s little point in denying yourself what you crave… as long as it does not hurt others,” he finished with a smile, holding the wooden duck over Astarion’s lap.

A gift.

The deviousness in Astarion’s eyes melted to delight, his silver-white lashes fluttering as he studied the carved creature. The vampire cupped the duck in his palm with care; as if he expected it would turn to dust if he moved too quickly.

“But what of revenge then, dear Halsin? Surely once or twice you’ve wanted to mete out revenge to those who harm your precious ducklings?” Astarion teased. He finally moved his hand, bobbing the duck up and down in the air, like its live counterparts did on water. The large elf’s heart felt as though it would leap from his throat at the sound of Astarion’s giggle.

“That is fair enough. Perhaps I should rephrase it. ‘You shouldn’t deny your desires, if it hurts no one. Or, if those hurt deserve justice.’ Does that work for you, little duck?” Halsin replied, gently bumping his broad shoulder into the smaller elf’s arm.

Astarion’s porcelain cheeks flushed pink. “Well well, aren’t you quite the hedonist. I thought of you as a ‘let things go’ sort of druid.” He turned his face from the duck to the druid. “But anyway.. thank you. For the gift.”

Halsin’s eyes twinkled as he met Astarion’s gaze. “Thank me by returning the favor, why don’t you?” he asked, “Come on, I’m sure you’ve got something more interesting to share about yourself than a whittling hobby.”

Astarion arched a single white brow. “If you insist. I… may have a bit of a sweet tooth?” he finished with a sing-song lilt.

A deep rumble emanated from Halsin’s throat and grew into a chuckle. “Is that so? Would you seek to drizzle honey on a neck, before indulging?” the druid asked, winking at Astarion.

“Ah, I.. I would not say no to an occasional treat,” the vampire replied. “But your blood was sweet enough on its own, no honey needed,” he said, leaning his torso into Halsin’s barrel chest.

The druid’s pulse roared, changing from a flutter to a drumbeat. He was sure that Astarion could hear it. “I will remember that for the future,” Halsin said with a chuckle. “Out of curiosity, Astarion… does the flavor of blood truly vary by person? Even in wild shape with heightened senses, it all smells of copper to me.”

Halsin felt a tenseness rise in the vampire’s form, which still leaned against his larger body. Astarion released a sigh and his muscles seemed to relax; but only a little.

“I’ve had this condition for two centuries… but truth be told?” Astarion turned his head to Halsin, his gaze half-shielded through his long snowy eyelashes. “You.. were my first.”

“You jest,” Halsin replied, his jaw slack in disbelief. The druid, whose cool-headedness allowed him to not jolt when Astarion’s arrow had struck above his head, could not hide his shock.

“About this topic, Halsin? I would never,” Astarion assured, his eyes wide and earnest. “You were the first person from which I’ve ever actually fed. Sure I’ve gotten a few bites in, but no actual sustenance. In all these years, I’ve only fed on beasts.”

Halsin shook his head in surprise, flyaway strands of his long hair tickling Astarion’s ears.

Astarion nodded, white curls bobbing against the growing dusk. As darkness settled upon them, he seemed made of white marble; true Nature-sculpted beauty. “I was expressly forbidden to feed on thinking beings,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms lay limp in his lap. “Boars, deer… kobolds. During the worst of it… I was served only putrid rats. A cruel jape from my master,” the vampire’s voice trailed off. It seemed as though the energy had been drained; even his hands fell open around the small wooden duck.

Halsin had no words that could ease such a painful memory. He placed a hand on Astarion’s leg; his fingers, when splayed, nearly covered the smaller man’s thigh. He gave a gentle squeeze as they sat, birdsong rolling from the tree above them.

The purple darkness of night finally set after a while, only illuminated by a bright bit of flame shooting into the sky over a crumbling wall. Gale’s cantrip ignis served as a proverbial dinner bell.

“Ah, dinner is served,” Halsin noted with a nod. “And speaking of nourishment… you are welcome to feed again tonight, Astarion.” The large elf paused, waiting for the vampire’s million-realm stare to pull away from the whittled duck to meet his own eyes. “Also… I want to thank you. Your camp is a most welcome solace, one I couldn’t do without. I look forward to your company this evening.”

***********

Supper had been splendid as Gale, ever the people-pleaser and an excellent cook, had prepared specialized meals for his friends. A hearty vegetarian stew for Halsin. For the others, he had added meat from a rabbit Astarion had snared in a trap. And for the vampire himself, Gale had prepared black pudding from provisions he’d found in the Gith creche. Astarion had devoured it with delight and had thanked Gale with a pat on the wizard’s back and a genuine smile. Over the past few days, the vampire had grown more at ease in, figuratively and literally, reaching out to his fellow adventurers.

His friends, as Halsin had insisted on calling them.

Astarion had realized, as he reclined in front of his tent atop plundered creche pillows, they truly were friends. They had risked life and limb (and soul, in Wyll’s case) to protect each other. To work together on the tadpole problem. Everyone also had agreed to help Astarion exact revenge on Cazador, for which Karlach was especially excited. The pale elf felt no need to mask the smile that formed on his lips as he thought of his friends… and especially of the Arch Druid Halsin.

The rest of the party had socialized enough for the evening and had retired to their tents. Though the blood sausage had been delectable, it was time for Astarion’s main course.

The slender elf strode over to Halsin’s tent. Confidence set his mouth in a smirk. Halsin has been won over, Astarion thought, but this is my opportunity to ensure he stays that way. The vampire was certain that he had Halsin’s allegiance; the druid himself had said so, and proved time and again he was trustworthy. He had shown kindness which Astarion assumed stemmed from attraction. It was mutual attraction, if he cared to admit it; but he pushed that thought down to the pit of his stomach. Attraction meant vulnerability.

It was far easier to be an object of desire, than to entertain his own desires.

Halsin’s tent flap hung open, and again the druid was reclined while reading a book, holding it above his head. There were no logs to lean against this time; instead, the larger elf was propped up by delicately embroidered linens and plush pillows. Astarion had insisted that the druid had “roughed it” enough, and that he deserved to treat himself to the luxuries they’d found in the creche.

“Ah, good evening Astarion,” Halsin said, his smile extending to his honey-hazel eyes, “So glad you could join me for dinner.” The druid chuckled at his own jest and patted the bedroll. Astarion returned his smile and kneeled on a pillow by the druid’s chest.

“It is my pleasure,” the vampire replied, his voice a low purr, one hand settling on Halsin’s well-muscled chest. He absentmindedly tugged at the loose strings danging from the druid’s tunic. “Ready whenever you are, darling.”

Halsin nodded once and laid the book aside. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Astarion,” he said, with less nervousness in his voice than there had been in the last feeding. He raised his large hand to the small of Astarion’s back and placed his other on the vampire’s shoulder. His steadiness helped support the smaller elf as he assumed his feeding position.

Astarion took no further prompting; the druid seemed tantalizingly eager. It would make his task all the more simple. And more pleasant. The vampire accepted the unspoken aid from Halsin and climbed atop the druid. It was easier to feed if he straddled the large elf, as opposed to stretching across his wide body.

As Astarion lowered his mouth onto the red-ochre tattoo on Halsin’s neck, the friction of his leather trousers against Halsin’s stomach sent a rush of tingles to his groin. Hells below, he thought, flattening his tongue against the Arch Druid’s neck before a whine could escape from him. Astarion was certain that Halsin could feel his growing erection. Once, then twice his cock pulsed with eagerness; immediately after, the druid’s hand pressed more firmly on the small of the pale elf’s back.

This time, it didn’t bother him; the physical manifestation of lust meant it was easier for him to fulfill, and remain the object of, Halsin’s desires.

A rumble vibrated the druid’s throat against Astarion’s open mouth; Halsin relished in the cool wetness of the vampire’s tongue tracing along his jugular. The pale elf nibbled Halsin’s neck with his dull front teeth. Time for a tease, he thought, and pressed his hardened length into Halsin’s stomach. With the pressure, he felt a firm thickness between Halsin’s legs. The druid was already hard, and Astarion hadn’t even bitten him yet. Perfect.

But the teasing was enough, and his hunger gnawed at his stomach. The vampire opened his mouth wider and pierced his top fangs into Halsin’s neck. As he sank his fangs deeper into flesh, Halsin gripped Astarion’s buttocks with his large hands. The druid rutted his hips against the vampire with a deep moan, lifting them both off the bedroll with his lust.

Hot blood poured onto Astarion’s tongue as he lifted his fangs to suckle greedily at the druid’s neck. His soft tongue lapped at the divine offering, which coaxed a deep groan from Halsin’s lips. Astarion’s hands moved with swiftness; with intention. His slender fingers found Halsin’s nipple through the linen tunic and his mass of curly chest hair, and pinched it gently. Halsin hissed in response, his wide fingertips digging into Astarion’s hips. The vampire smiled against Halsin’s neck as he swallowed one mouthful of druidic lifeblood, then two.

Halsin’s chest rumbled fiercely against Astarion. The smaller elf took it as a sign to stop feeding; he lapped up the remaining blood that dribbled down Halsin’s neck, onto his collarbone.

Dinner was done; now for his duty.

Astarion’s mind was clear, rushing with the ecstasy of fresh blood. But for this second task, it was a habit to clear his mind completely. The vampire let himself mentally float away as he kissed along Halsin’s collarbone, then his throat. His movements were smooth, automatic; a deft hand lowered from the druid’s nipple to his stomach and teased under Halsin’s shirt, running through thick body hair. The large elf’s torso nearly raised from the pillows.

“You enjoy our feedings, don’t you, my dear?” the vampire whispered, his voice an octave lower than normal. “You naughty thing…” his voice trailed off as he lifted his torso from Halsin’s. Although his eyes looked directly into Halsin’s, he stared past the druid. The large elf’s face was a blur, out of focus, but Astarion could tell Halsin’s head tilted to the side.

“A-Astarion,” huffed Halsin, breath hitching in his throat. He kept his hands pressed firmly against the smaller elf’s waist.

“Isn’t this what you want, darling?” the vampire started, slipping his long fingers downward to settle on Halsin’s groin, hot to the touch even through the druid’s breeches. Halsin’s hips pressed into Astarion’s hand instinctively. The vampire drug his palm along the druid’s impressive girth, then rutted his own erection against Halsin’s arousal through his leather trousers. Halsin hissed through clenched teeth at the sensation, but sat stock still in his reclined pose.

It didn’t make sense. The druid’s hands should have been exploring Astarion’s body. Not to worry - they will, Astarion thought. He leaned his front against Halsin’s chest, again creating friction between them. “We could have a quiet evening for once, my dear,” he crooned. “Haven’t you waited long enough for what you want?”

The druid’s body did not respond as it should have. It was inexplicably tense.

**********

As soon as Astarion had finished feeding, his body language had shifted. His gaze had seemed to be a million realms away. His voice had even lowered to that of a stranger’s; it was deeper, with a predatory edge to its vocal fry.

The transformation shook Halsin’s confidence and his chest was heavy with concern. He couldn’t hold back his inner beast’s response to Astarion’s expert ministrations; but he had domination over his mind and his conscience. He did not return the vampire’s heavy petting. He needed an answer, first. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly to tame the beast; his focused breathing soothed the beast, and he felt himself grow soft.

“Astarion, tell me plainly. I need your truth,” Halsin demanded, tipping the vampire’s chin upwards with the tips of his calloused fingers, “What is it that you want? From me? From this?”

Astarion blinked once, then twice. His snowy eyebrows lost their wrinkled furrow, the crease in the skin between them disappearing as they raised. The small elf’s eyes went round and softened; wetness formed in the inside corners of his eyes until his silver-white lashes blinked it away. No cutting words formed on his tongue; no well-worn blithe phrases fell from his pink lips.

Halsin raised one large hand to Astarion’s face, pulling his thumb across the pale elf’s pouted mouth and marble cheekbone. He nestled his fingers into the nest of snowy curls at the back of Astarion’s head and gently ran his fingernails on the vampire’s scalp. He felt the goosebumps rise on the smaller man’s arms and neck as he carded his fingers through Astarion’s hair.

The druid did not repeat himself; Astarion had heard him. Nature has her own timeline, her own natural cycle in which life is born, dies, decays, and is born anew.

Halsin was in no rush; he would never pick from the plum tree in when it was tart and unripe in late spring, nor be surprised when the harvest was mealy and bird-pecked in late autumn. He knew it was best to wait for the natural cycle of things, were it in-season fruits, or the words of someone who did not know what to say.

He existed for this moment, with this beautiful man who haunted his dreams and clouded his mind. Astarion lowered his head to rest his cheek on Halsin’s broad chest, his blood-stained lower lip leaving a smear of scarlet on Halsin’s tunic. The druid pulled his hand from Astarion’s hair and lowered it to his delicate neck, using the pad of his thumb and rough fingertips to massage the vampire’s neck muscles gently. He felt a strained muscle and hummed the verbal part of a healing spell; his fingertips glittered a hazy green before the glow rolled from his hand onto Astarion’s neck, where it seemed to sink into his ivory skin.

Astarion broke the silence a few moments later. “I.. I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice muffled between Halsin’s chest and his own shoulders, “I had nothing at all for so long. Not my free will. Not even my body.” Halsin felt Astarion’s face scrunch into a scowl against his chest. “That was owned by Cazador; to tempt fools into his palace. I laid on my back for breadcrumbs a thousand times or more. Half of them I barely remember,” Astarion choked back the threat of tears he spoke. “Most of them never even bothered to grant me temporary bliss.”

The druid’s chest felt like it was being crushed by an owlbear. It wasn’t Astarion trying to seduce me. It was his past.

“Astarion. I am so sorry,”, whispered the large elf, wrapping his arms tighter around Astarion, accidentally pulling a small grunt from the vampire’s lungs. He released the pressure, but held the pale elf still. “You have survived so much. And you did not deserve any of it. You are so much more than what that bastard forced upon you,” Halsin assured with a low growl in his throat as he thought of Cazador. The druid inhaled deeply and his chest rose, lifting Astarion along with it. The vampire’s body slowly descended as Halsin exhaled. The large elf tilted his chin to place his lips on Astarion’s forehead, nuzzling his nose into the soft white curls.

******

Astarion let himself melt into Halsin’s embrace, and let his jaw relax. The druid’s large arms were heavy but not overbearing; the weight was a soothing balm to his frazzled nerves. For the first time in 200 years, he felt seen. He felt safe enough with Halsin to share the raw wounds of his past that had yet to heal.

“Thank you,” the vampire finally replied, his tongue thick and dry in his mouth. His voice had cracked when he spoke. He appreciated that Halsin did not acknowledge the lapse of composure.

“You are most welcome, dear heart,” Halsin replied softly, before releasing his hold on the slender elf. He raised his torso, bracing Astarion’s body as he swapped to a cross-legged sit. Astarion’s rear slipped into the gap between Halsin’s knees, nestling comfortably in the open space; the vampire’s toes dangled a few inches above the tent floor. Halsin adjusted his arm to support Astarion’s back while his free hand grasped Astarion’s long fingers.

“But I want to make something abundantly clear to you,” Halsin said, his deep voice soft and slow. Astarion’s brows shot up, and Halsin felt the man’s muscles tense. The druid gently squeezed Astarion’s torso.

“It is okay to not know what you want, Astarion,” he stated, his honey-hazel gaze meeting the pale elf’s round eyes. “What is not acceptable… is to make assumptions as to what I desire from you. You are no thrall. All of your choices… are yours to make.”

*****

For one of the very few times in his long life, Astarion had nothing clever prepared as a reply. He seethed as he felt his skin flush with the fresh blood when Halsin held his fingers. How is such a large man so gentle?

How he loathed that he could not hide the rosiness in his cheeks. But how he adored the druid for not mentioning it; for not poking fun. For the larger elf’s kindness and patience. For his willingness to see Astarion as more than a plaything, with which he could rut and then leave to rot.

“Halsin…” Astarion started, unable to resist pressing his cheek against the druid’s face. “I.. I appreciate you. More than you know.” He pulled his head back to look into Halsin’s eyes directly. They were as warm as the evening sun; as comforting as a crackling bonfire.

“I needed protection. People don’t trust vampires, perhaps understandably,” Astarion admitted with a nod of his head and flick of his hand, “so I needed someone to get on my side. Seduction has always been easy. It’s all I’ve known for centuries. But now...” His voice trailed off as his gaze drifted realms away.

Halsin waited patiently, dragging his fingers along Astarion’s long leg. His movements seemed aimless, with no intent on seduction. Astarion felt that the druid’s touch was an anchor for him. It tethered his mind to reality and the present moment. For once, he did not drown in a tumultuous sea of past memories. Astarion finally exhaled, his cool breath tickling the hairs on Halsin’s arm.

“I…don’t think I want you to think of me in terms of sex,” he admitted, meeting Halsin’s gaze again with his snowy brows knit upward. The corners of the vampire’s eyes became wet again; as chilled red wine in a glass, covered in dewdrops of condensation. “I don’t know if I want anyone to.” He turned his gaze down, pretending to study his nails.

His body shuddered as he choked back a sob, disguising it as a cough. Astarion knew Halsin likely saw through his ruse; he didn’t care either way. He could not look the druid in the eye. Halsin’s hand stopped its crawl and raised to Astarion’s chin, tenderly pulling his face to meet the druid’s. The larger man’s other arm curled tighter around the vampire’s back.

“Come now dear heart, do you truly see me as so fickle?” Halsin asked, his voice low and thick with hurt. “A river does not suddenly breach its banks to change course. Nor would a bear decide to be sated only with grass,” Halsin said with a chuckle. “Revolutionary upheaval is not the way of nature. Nor is it my way.”

The large druid placed his scarred forehead to Astarion’s pearly brow. Astarion couldn’t hold back the small smile that tugged at the edges of his own lips.

“I have lived a long time, Astarion. I have grown to understand my own desires. I will admit that you tempt me to ruin,” Halsin continued with a wink, rubbing his nose to Astarion’s, “and I would love to partake in your body, and share mine with you. But, that will only happen when, or if, you wholeheartedly want to do so.”

Astarion’s mouth fell open, but no words formed on his tongue, which had grown too heavy and thick to speak. All the vampire could manage was a nod, before tucking his face under Halsin’s chin. The tips of his pointed ears burned with heat as the druid’s thick arms held snugly against his waist.

Astarion felt as though his dead heart had begun to beat once more.

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rhosmeinir · 7 months

Text

Fictober 2023 #4

Prompt #4 - "Do you even know what this means?"

Fanfiction: Good Omens/The Sandman

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Dream pays Crowley a visit one night. 915 words!

It was a picturesque scene. In the garden of a small cottage, fragrant with fruit-tree flowers and bursting with the colors of their wilder cousins, Crowley and Aziraphale sat at a sturdy, weathered oak table; the kind of table that held as many stories as it had rings, and could bear up under as many plates of cake and dishes of pudding as one could load it with. They were laughing together, Aziraphale chucking behind his serviette so as not to spew crumbs, and Crowley guffawing at his own wit. His eyes were golden-brown and unshaded, and met the tinkling blue of Aziraphale’s without any worry that someone might interrupt them. The weather was perfect: warm and fine, with enough of a soft breeze to stir their many plants gently now and then. A ginger cat was curled up in a vacant chair at the table, but now it yawned, stretched, and leaped lightly into Crowley’s lap. He dropped his hand to stroke the cat, which made its biscuits against his leg as he watched Aziraphale select one from the plate in front of him, and sighed with content.

“Leave me alone, Dream.”

The Crowley standing outside the garden watching the pastoral events within unfold muttered darkly. Next to him, the tall, slight figure all cloaked in black, who had just silently appeared, looked at him mildly.

“This again, Crowley?”

“I said, leave. me. alone.” But Crowley was familiar enough with Morpheus’s silences to know that the Endless wouldn’t vanish just because he said so. He inhaled exasperatedly. “Yes, this again. What, are my dreams not creative enough for you? Not enough variety? Why don’t you go visit Muriel, I’m sure there’s plenty of nonsense there to entertain you.” The faintest of laugh-like sounds escaped Morpheus through his nose, and he shook his head.

“No. Muriel has no need to me tonight.”

“Oh, and I do?”

“Yes.”

Crowley turned away from Morpheus, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders hunched of their own accord, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard. I don’t need you you stupid daydream idiot- was the beginning of the stream of profane thought that churned inside Crowley’s mind, but he kept it behind his lips. He did not want to rage. He did not want to fight. And Dream was not stupid. All he wanted was—

“What about this idea occupies you so, angel?”

Like a spooked animal, Crowley jerked around. His face impassive as ever, Morpheus was still watching the scene in the garden. The cat had gone to sleep, and another biscuit had disappeared from the plate.

“Don’t call me that,” Crowley snarled, his fists balling up inside their pockets, “I am not an angel.”

“You were when we met.”

“That was a long time ago, Dream. A lot’s happened since then.” For the first time, Morpheus turned his head to look at Crowley, and meet his eyes.

“I don’t think you ever stopped, really.”

Crowley glowered, but held his counterpart’s void-like gaze. The flickering lights within it reminded him of the stars. They stood like that for a long time, until at last Crowley asked,

“You know what happened to Aziraphale?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Morpheus nodded anyway. Crowley turned to look back at the garden, and its blissfully unaware occupants. It was shortly after Aziraphale had returned to Heaven that Morpheus had begun to appear in his dreams. Not every night, and not every dream, but despite the two beings having known each other since Morpheus had emerged in the Universe, he had never visited Crowley so often before. He was too subtle for it to be a coincidence.

“Well,” Crowley returned uncomfortably to Morpheus’s question, “when I think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t— if it hadn’t all gone wrong— when I think about what could be, if he came back— …this is what I dream.”

Morpheus was silent again, and this time, it did provoke Crowley.

“Do you even know what this means?!” He burst out, gesturing wildly with an arm at the garden, the cottage, and the cat. The uninterrupted idyll was punctuated by another chorus of laughter from below, followed by the indistinguishable conversation of two voices. “’Course you do,” Crowley subsided, pushing his hands back into his pockets with a slump, “you’ve been around long enough.”

“I have.” Morpheus replied. “I understand.”

Crowley glanced sideways at his companion.

“Yeah, I s’pose you do.”

Silence stretched out again, as they watched the garden together. The wind stirred hair scarlet and black, birds sang, and now and then Morpheus brushed away a fuzzy bee that had become too interested in him. Neither paid any attention to the passage of time, but time did pass in the dream. The air took on a slight chill as the sun began to go down, and below in the garden a lamp was lit, bathing the table in its warmth and light. Glasses were raised, and the ting of glass on glass was unnaturally loud in the twilight. When Crowley spoke, his voice was cracked, and his question encompassed all the questions he yearned to ask, and contained all the multitudes of his joy, pain, and every defiant feeling he had ever felt in the existence he had shared with his lost angel.

“Why?”

Dream of the Endless raised one hand, and laid it on Crowley’s shoulder with the sort of firm, gentle kindness that requires no explanation, and answered.

“Love.”

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #the sandman #dream of the endless #crowley #ineffable husbands #crowley centric #crossover #gomens #morpheus

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unholyhelbig · 2 years

Note

Werewolf!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader. College/Werewolf!AU

Where Reader is bitten by a mysterious wolf. After a party, Reader encounters a huge, blue-eyed wolf in the woods. Kate is part of the Avengers pack. Kate meets her companion after saving his life.

[A/n: I feel like some of you have the sixth sense about the fact that I've written so much werewolf fanfiction for Hailee Characters. Anyway, I was happy to do this!]

Trigger Warnings: Blood, usual gory werewolf bite, some mentions of SA seminars, College douche bags (Nothing graphic at all, but proceed with caution).

Masterlist | Request Prompts | Join my Taglist

Once Bitten, Twice an Idiot | Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

The night air held a warmth like freshly brewed tea, deliberate and honey thick. The sun had long ago set, exposing you to a darkened sky with an ornamental moon. That light, of course, barely made it through the large oaks and logs. The underbrush pulled at your jeans, your legs, your arms, until they’d been reduced to pulp.

There was a stitch in your side, one that normally would have slowed you down. You weren’t much for sports, or physical exertion that didn’t’ have a clear end game. But this was different- the reward for dodging trees, and holes, and damp surfaces was your life.

You should have realized you were being stalked. The signs were all there; the hair standing on the back of your neck, the snapping of twigs and dead grass. The fear that shot through your body. Of course- you figured it was some college douche who had followed you from the library. Not an animal.

At least, you were pretty sure that deathly growl came from an animal. A thing with glowing blue eyes and dripping jowls. Granted, you hadn’t stuck around. You stupidly dashed into the woods, thinking that sticking to the side of an empty road was a dumber choice. Maybe the woods would slow it down- but it seemed to work as a crux.

When your front pushed against an ice-cold chain-link fence, a bit of relief came over you. This was it- you’d be set free from this little game of cat and mouse. At least your death would come quick, fingers wrapped around the metal, you panted in shorts spirts of condensation.

The animal was clearly defined against the color of the yellow moon. It was massive, trying to catch its own breath. Its fur was a pitch black, not just a trick of the light. But it’s eyes, its eyes were almost kind in their own way, an inner struggle.

A rumbling growl cut through any reprieve. Were wolves’ common practice in the state of New York? You were from the south, the air much warmer and wetter. The wildlife calmer until provoked. You hadn’t provoked this, nor did you think you’d survive it.

The wolf jumped onto you, large paws pushing into your collarbone with another stunned growl of dominance. A watery, blood-mixed drool moved past peeled back lips, exposing pink gums. The scent of damp fur and rotted meat filled your lungs. You realized you were whimpering- crying deafened by the animals’ movements.

The bite came with a blinding pain in the smooth expanse between the side of your neck and the top of your shoulder. You screamed until your throat burned, tasting of copper. Teeth embedded into your flesh, cracking your bones. The animal pulled away, letting out an earth-shattering howl in response- for a moment, your voices were in synch, mingling under the moon.

Pressure was flung off of you, the wolf that had tackled you to the ground, the one that had bit into you, was suddenly knocked onto its side. The silhouette of a bigger animal had pinned its predecessor to the ground, letting off a warning grumble filled with venom.

You weren’t stupid, you never had been. You clenched your eyes shut and played dead.

Pain erupted across your temple in tandem with your heart against your wrist. There was a cold wet feeling that engulfed you. It had snowed in the night, nothing big, nothing substantial, but cold enough to stir you from the muck and leaves that were encased around you. You’d been buried, or covered, at least.

The scent of the woods filled your lungs with every even breath you took. The light seemed too bright, the air too cold. Every nerve ending in your body stood up on edge, heightened with what you assumed was fear. You’d forgotten the wound on your shoulder, the blood that had frozen to your skin in an ugly brown, hard color.

Your bag was a few paces ahead of you, textbooks scattered and damp, the words running ink. Great. You’d be lucky if you could pawn them off by the end of the semester. It was a stupid thought to have. You’d been attacked, and the only thing that registered was the scent of wet paper and the inevitable donation of lofty books.

Your phone began to vibrate. The sound was deafening, you groaned, clenching your dirty hands to either side of your head. You could feel it in your teeth, eventually patting the ground until you unearthed it. The screen was shattered, but functional.

“Hello?” You rasped.

“Gracias a dios” America’s voice was almost as deafening as the cellphone ringing. You winced and pulled it away from your ear “Where are you y/n? MJ was two seconds from filing a missing person’s report with campus security.”

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep while studying. Tell her not to worry. I’m on my way home now.”

You hung up before she could feel through your lie. It had come so naturally. Your memory was murky, your bones tired. This was something a shower could cure, maybe an energy smoothie from the local coffee shop.

After shoving your textbooks and phone back into your bag, you felt your way along the thin metal fence until you reached a familiar road. You wish you had had the sense to do that last night. There was something in playing dead that actually convinced your brain that losing consciousness was okay.

Something was bothering you. A lot of things were, but the animal, the beast that had sunk it’s teeth into you hadn’t gone back to finish the job. Even if you were playing dead, something as cunning as that could tell the difference, right? It was all too much.

You snuck into your apartment and made a beeline to the bathroom before your roommates could get a good look at you. There were leaves in your hair, caked with blood and dirt, and maybe even saliva.

Dark circles rimmed your eyes, muck under your nails. You’d never been hit by a bus before, but you imagined this is what it would feel like, what it would look like. The hot water of the shower eased your nerves. Made the bite less intimidating. Small puncture wounds rimmed in an ugly purple bruise.

A sweatshirt hit most of the offenses. Not the pale skin, or your shaking hands. But it would have to do. You stalked into the kitchen and swallowed two glasses of spit-warm water. It was like you’d hadn’t had a drink in months, instead of a single night. It was then that MJ and America heard you as you filled up your third cup despite the ache in your stomach.

“Holy shit, you look like crap.”

“What the fuck happened to you?”

They both spoke at the same time. You finished the third glass of water, taking a deep, steadying breath. The world seemed to quiet, your ears still ringing. “Fell asleep at the library.”

“I’m not buying it.” America said, “Did some asshole from Delta Phi pull something? We can get campus security here right now.”

You held up your hand, “I appreciate the concern, really. Nothing happened. Just a long night. Campus police won’t do anything anyway.”

MJ pulled herself onto the barstool and folded her hands. She watched you carefully but didn’t’ say anything. That was enough for you, a small mercy in a storm of confusion. You pulled open the fridge, each scent blending into one that made your stomach clench. There was a Tupperware container of lasagna that caught your eye.

Maybe that would satiate the hunger that had been plaguing you despite the water you had downed. You used a fork to take two large bites of it, chewing wolfishly before America cleared her throat. “Dude… you gonna heat that up?”

You shook your head and took another bite, shoving the Tupperware back into the fridge. “Better cold. I have class. Love you guys!”

It was hard to miss the look they shared as you pulled on your backpack. America was the one who stopped you, her voice soft, words thick with worry. The two of you had known one another since childhood when she landed a close fingered hit to the center of Jace Cameron’s nose after he stole your lunch. There was gushing blood and a lot of tears, but the kid never fronted after that. He transferred schools after that year.

America could read you better than anyone else, and at this point in your friendship, so could MJ. All three of you had opened your acceptance letters together, crowded around a greasy basket of fries in a local pizza joint. It was all part of the plan, really, attend the same college, go to the same parties, become bridesmaids at weddings bound to happen.

Her touch was gentle against your elbow. “Y/n, you’re sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m perfect, really. Just tired. You’re still going to the Greek fundraiser tonight, right?”

She pursed her lips at the change of subject. Nodded at you before letting her hand drop to her side. It pained you to lie to her, really, it did. But you were technically exhausted. You didn’t’ know how to explain that your whole body was screaming different signals at you. That you were starving to the point of craving something raw and uncooked. That you had woken up in the woods after being bitten by a wild animal. It was all too crazy- even for America.

The party could be heard from across campus. It seemed that no matter how many cheap beers you downed, you couldn’t’ get the music to soften. Conversations cut through the liquid sound like a knife. You couldn’t focus, not really, on What MJ was saying, running her fingers against the golden belt that sinched a cheap bedsheet.

“Toga parties are so last century.” She mumbled, “I mean, it feels like appropriation, right? Damned if they’ve been dead for millenniums. It’s tasteless.”

It had taken you a painstaking hour to arrange the sheet in a way that wouldn’t aggravate the wound against your shoulder. It hadn’t slowed it’s trickle of red, having saturated your sweater by the time you came back to the apartment after your final class. You’d bandaged it well enough, and situated a clump of white fabric over the area, eyes darting towards it every once in a while, looking for a bloom of color.

So far so good.

“Yeah, but you have to admit, they’re kind of comfy. I could get used to this!”

You winced when a loud belly laugh moved through the crowd. The Delta men had just sunk another ping pong ball into piss-warm beer. They hollered like real primal beings. You frowned, leaving your cup on the mantel. Maybe a nice break is what you needed, a few breaths and quiet of the earth instead of the hot frat house.

“I need some air,” You leaned close to MJ, shouting over the music.

“Okay, do you need me to come with you?”

“No! You stay. America is up next for beer pong. She’ll kill both of us if we dip now.”

She nodded and watched as the competitive edge of their roommate flashed in her eyes. She leaned against the wall, judging the gall that the president of the frat had, taking a risky shot. A smile turned up the corners of her lips when the ball bounced off the rim.

A couple was making out on the porch, swallowing one another’s tongues. The sickly-sweet scent of stem-picked weed filled your lungs. You walked down the porch. The night was clear and cold. Woods surrounded the property, the small patches that were allowed by the city.

This place, you imagined, had once been vast and beautiful. It was filled with cookie cutter homes now, suburban housewives and a single street of fraternities and sororities. The further you walked from the house, the lighter you felt. No more music, no clinging scent of alcohol. The full moon lit your way clean.

There was a strange charge to the air that you didn’t’ quite understand. The night had always called to you like it did anyone else, the air sharper, easier to breathe. But this was different, just like most of the day had been different. You slowed your pace by the edge of a large patch of trees, your hair standing up on the edge of your neck.

Fuck.

There were eyes on you, that was clear. A primal type of fear flooded your veins. It had been stupid to stary from the party, no matter the sensory overload. MJ should be with you, even one of the frat boys sucking face on the porch would ease your nerves. You were illuminated by a deep yellow circle of streetlight.

You took a deep, steadying breath, squinting between the trees and the underbrush, and the fallen leaves. There was an urge to say hello, to call out, but you had seen enough horror movies to hold your tongue. Just like you had seen enough to run the evening before.

Out of instinct, you pulled a small travel sized canister of pepper spray, unlocking it. You'd never used it before, always feared accidentally unleashing it in a crowded bus or classroom.

Letting out a yelp, you swung your hand at air behind you, blushing with an odd type of nervousness. It looked stupid, you guessed, swinging wildly when nothing was really there. Except something was really there, and it grabbed your hand with an iron grip, pulling it back.

You screamed and released a stream of pepper spray right into your attacker’s face. She screamed too, releasing your hand and stumbling backwards, eyes rimmed red and teary. “Holy Shit, oh my god, Holy shit.”

Part of you felt bad, admittedly. She was tall and lanky and using the sleeves of her flannel to flush away the mascara running down her face. Her nose was running, black hair pulled into a ponytail except for a few wild strands.

“You pepper sprayed me,” she said with indignance.

“You were following me!”

“No, I wasn’t!” She shot back, blinking wildly “Okay, maybe I was- but God damn it!”

You let your shoulders drop in exhaustion. She sniffed, wiping the snot from the base of her nose. Her eyes were rimmed in a bright red. You’d never used pepper spray before, nor did you ever want to again. The scent in the air was thick and painful.

“Why were you following me?” You asked.

“I wanted to see if you were okay. You left the frat house pretty quickly. It was dumb. I’m dumb, I’m sorry.”

Your finger moved from the top of the pepper spay. You shoved it into your pocket, trying to search your mind for a familiar face in the crowd, bumping and grinding in nothing but dishtowels and white sheets. Of course, you were preoccupied by your own overwhelming senses to pay much attention to anything else.

She blinked a few more times before her vision cleared up. Her cheeks were still a ripe apple red. Under the waning moon, she looked pale and pretty. Her eyes were a startling blue, almost inhuman. You chalked it up to your fight method kicking in, though they sent a shock straight to your core.

“Are you?” She asked, voice strained.

“Am I what?”

“Okay? You didn’t’ seem to be. I went to that campus seminar about always having a buddy system. It was pretty informative. Made me paranoid, I think. But you looked overwhelmed.”

“I am overwhelmed.”

You didn’t think you would admit it that easily. Maybe it was the fact that she was a stranger, or that there was an instant warmth that surrounded her. It made you equally guilty for your actions, and intrigued by hers. You turned and started walking in the direction that you were heading, keeping from the sidewalks and to the small space where asphalt converged with cement.

She walked with you, side by side. There was height to her. You didn’t’ know where you were going but it eased your nerves with her there. “Do you ever make choices that don’t make sense?”

“All the damn time. Like when you look back on them, there were a million other options laid out in front of you. A million different variables and yet, you still chose the one that got you here in this moment.”

“Exactly.” You frowned “I got attacked by an animal last night, and I had a million chances to tell someone about it. To do something. But I haven’t. I ran into the woods instead of further into campus. I lied about being okay to two of my closest friends. I woke up this morning feeling… different. And now I’m telling a girl I just met all of this for no reason.”

She stopped then, and so did you. There was a stretch of cookie cutter homes in front of you, and the raging frat party behind. A neighborhood watch sign loomed behind your shoulder. A sprinkler kicked to life down the block, saturating the grass. You felt stupid in your sinched sheet.

“Let me guess.” She started slow, tentative. “You’re hungry, sensitive to light. To sound. Mainly smell? The world is screaming at you from every angle, and you don’t know how to get it to stop?”

“Yeah, something like that. How’d you know?”

“Great,” She whispered and continued on her walk. You watched her for a few moments before shaking your head clear and jogging to catch up with her. She had impossibly long legs.

“I was hoping I hadn’t bitten that hard.”

“what?”

“I get carried away sometimes. It’s the full moon. It has a hold. Clint says control comes with practice but I don’t have time for practice and now I have to explain all of this to Steve-“

You had jumped in front of her at this point, cutting her off in her words and in her strides. Your hand was heavy on her shoulder. The redness was gone from her stare. Her skin was scalding against the palm of your hand. You pulled back. “Slow down. What?”

The girl let out a long sigh “I bit you last night. I’m already feeling guilty enough about it. You don’t have to lecture me. I figured I could track you down, make sure you were okay.”

“Clearly not okay,”

“I’m gathering that.”

“What… are you?”

“An Aries.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And a werewolf.”

Taglist: @almaperegrinespipe @justyourwritter69 @maddess @bxrbiewrites @jasminebelding @i-need-somebody-else @sapphic-girl @pianogirl2121 @ohmy-godyes @littlebluestone @kacka84 @143bc @lenam07 @tforjtap @iwishforausername @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @honeymoonbbie

#Kate Bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #Kate bishop x you #Kate Bishop x y/n #Werewolf au #ask

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gruviasama · 1 year

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Gruvia Week Day 5 - Temptation ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Summary: She was an angel, and he was a demon; their story started in the Garden of Eden.

Rating: T (Implied smut)

Genre: Fantasy and Romance

Day 5: Temptation - Gruvia Week | Fanfiction ♡ @gruviaweek

When Juvia first saw him, she was resting in a full-grown white oak tree on the outskirts of the Garden of Eden, a shared land between Gods and Monsters that allowed them to walk freely amongst each other. His icy aura filled the air of the flowery path as he stepped toward the open field, creeping closer to the lake's edges. Juvia winced as she watched with every step he took; the lively green grass turned crisp and faded yellow, leaving a trail of his deathly presence in his wake.

A demon, she quickly noted mentally as she continued to watch him carefully and eerily as his cold nature sent intimidating shivers down her spine. The once fresh spring day dropped sharply in temperature, yet he stood shirtless and unbothered by nature around him. She couldn’t keep her eyes from trailing his muscular form, yet it was less of his body that her eyes sought and more of the dark kiss of the devil that covered half his skin and up along the side of his face. The mark was not common, but Juvia recognized it as a sign of a demon.

"Are you going to come down or continue to watch me from up there?" Juvia gasped as the sound of his husky voice flooded her senses. She had always heard that demons had heightened hearing abilities, but she didn't realize his ears were keen enough to detect her, even with her lack of movement.

Juvia felt a lump form in her stomach as she considered her options. As an angel, she was more than capable of defending herself, but the power radiating from this particular demon neither felt harmful nor welcoming. With much hesitation, Juvia carefully came down from the safety of the covered branches and stepped in front of the man.

"An angel…" his deep voice said in an amused tone as he sat on the bounder near the shore.

Juvia uncomfortably shifted under his gaze as he unashamedly let his eyes roam every inch of her body. Though her modest white dress covered her protectively, that did little to shelter her from his lustful gaze. As an angel, it was easy to catch any sin, big or small.

"A demon." She replied calmly, not letting herself fall into his intimidation.

#Gruvia week #gruvia week 2023 #gruvia fanfiction #gruvia #Gray Fullbuster #Juvia Lockser

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theimpurelily · 9 months

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Meet Me in the Garden

Summary: Riftan Calypse promised to live by his step-father's words. A grub should keep to the ground. Looking higher will only bring misfortune. However, when he sees Maximilian Croyso after ten long years the look in her eyes makes him dare to hope.

Would it really be so bad to look up?

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mention of suicide, child abuse and racism

Status: Complete

A/N: The first part of my series Forget-Me-Not. The story starts at chapter 22 of Riftan's POV. Click the name of each chapter to get a link to the song the chapter is named after if you're interested.

I posted part 1 in bulk but part 2 will start up on September 18th with a new chapter every Monday

Update:

I posted part 1 in bulk but part 2 will start up on October 2nd with a new chapter every other Monday

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

#under the oak tree #utot #maxi x riftan #riftan pov #riftan calypse #fanfic #utot fanfic #under the oak tree fanfiction #table of contents #forget me not #meet me in the garden #secret romance

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purplecatsketchs · 1 year

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Maxi fanart for my Under the Oak Tree short fanfiction "Restrain and Passion" set in the regency period

#under the oak tree #maximilian calypse #fanart #my art #fanfic illustration #ao3 fanfic

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

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⋆ f a v o u r i t e s ! ⋆

m.lists are getting out of hand :> nsfw 18+

FT. JJK ⁺ ₊ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ BLEACH ⁺ ₊ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ UOT ⁺ ₊ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ⁺ CSM

tighter ⋆ reader who can't take all their d-

not tonight ⋆ 21+ megumi thought

your dentist ⋆ suguru notices bruising on your soft palate

pink skirt, no underwear ⋆ choso wants to touch you

inexperienced kento ⋆ thought; how he sounds

he wants your hands... ⋆ ft. bleach men

again ⋆ ichigo wants to go again

knight & royal ⋆ UOT : riftan treats you nice

pair ⋆ CSM : getting drunk with aki

quickies ⋆ your fave doing it quick !

thank u for enjoying my fics w me :3

m.list

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sophiewolfheart-blog · 1 year

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Hello everyone! So I decided to make a Halloween fic this year. (Yes I know it’s late, but it’s better late than never.) I really hope you all enjoy the read as much as I enjoyed making it.

I also am going to make this world in this fanfiction my own. Keep the theme going and do other fics and what not based in it just for fun.

Happy late Halloween everyone!

Halloween Hunt

Demon Malakai Black x Plus Size Reader x Monster Luchasaurus

Kinks: Con-non con, primal, breeding, bondage

Word count: 2458 words

Tags: @writtingrose @omg-im-such-a-masochist

It’s Halloween night with a full blood moon casting its eerie glow across the land. Many elders of the town had chosen to stay inside, for they fear the legend that has haunted this land for decades. A demon lord was said to come during full blood moons with those who follow him, but legend also speaks of a black scaled monster who obeys the demon. A terrifying beast who could destroy 3 men at once if commanded to attack. Despite it being a faded memory the warning of being out during a full blood moon was still the norm for some older generations. The younger generation however have no fear of this legend and enjoy the night either trick or treating, or partying to celebrate the day of All Hallow’s Eve.

A young woman named (Y/N) was walking alone along a forest pathway surrounded by ghostly white river birch trees. the blood moon’s light causing the orange leaves on the ground to look brighter, seemingly to illuminate around her. Her home sits in the middle of the massive forest, the trail was originally for horses and wagons to travel. Now it’s her own private trail to her little cottage. As she walked a cold wind harshly blew through the trees, causing (Y/N) to shiver as the atmosphere seemed to change from peaceful to a darker somber one. Her eyes looked around cautiously as she felt she was not alone on this path, feeling a dark gaze from somewhere within the forest around her.

She walked quicker along the path to try and hurry home. However when she reached a bend that would lead right to her cottage, a strong scent drifted in the wind to her that was unnatural within her forest. The smell of oak, mahogany, and musk filled her nose while the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She began to run as fast as she could down the path, her heart pounding in her ears with pure adrenaline and fear. She could just hear a deep, guttural growl before heavy footsteps charged from the forest. She never looked back and only focused on the path ahead of her, the path to safety.

Within a few minutes of running she could see the bright porch light of her cottage, however as she got closer a figure appeared in her way. Putting on the brakes (Y/N) stops dead in her tracks, staring into the blue and white eye of who stood in her way to the cottage. His dark hair and auburn beard framed his face as he took a step toward her. “Well hello, does a little thing like you live here all alone? It’s dangerous out here, anything could be lurking in these woods.” His voice held a dark tone and yet sent shivers down her spine. (Y/N) took some frantic steps backwards trying to get away from the man before her, however her back slammed against what felt like a solid form of muscles. A chuckling growl vibrated the chest against her back while a clawed hand grabbed her arm. “Little girl’s shouldn’t be alone. You never know what kind of monsters might be in the shadows.”

Before he could get her other arm she managed to duck under his arm grabbing her, then with a grunt she kicked his knee making his grip loosen. With a harsh pull she freed her arm and ran to the side where she used the trees to block the other man from getting her. With great effort she ran for the front door with her hand already grabbing the key from her pocket. As quick as she could she managed to unlock the door and get the door open, unfortunately she failed to realize the monster had caught up. His body slammed into her and both fell to the floor with him on top of her, pinning her down he laughed softly while his red eyes filled with hunger. “Nice try little dove, but a mere human can’t outrun the likes of me and my master.”

A dark chuckle came from the door, then the sound of it shutting and locking reached her ears. As the beast above her moved to lean closer to her face, (Y/N) felt something firm pressing against her thigh. The man in the suit groaned and laughed softly as he got closer. “Really? The chase got to you that quick, Luchasaurus?” He folded his arms over his chest while Luchasaurus glared at him over his shoulder. “I can’t help it! The hunt is such a turn on, then seeing this plump girl running for her life just made things worse. Don’t kink shame me, Malakai!”

Malakai just laughs and looks over their little prey now at their mercy. His mismatched eyes scanned her struggling form with a malicious grin. “I think we shall have fun with this one before taking her soul. Get her to the bedroom and use these to restrain her.” He handed Luchasaurus some silk made rope before the monster scooped her up with a growl. “Don’t you dare fight me, or else I will take a bite out of you. Understood?” (Y/N) shivered with a nod as she let him carry her to her bedroom. She was too afraid to even talk as the two men ‘s aura felt dark and that they were not bluffing.

Luchasaurus laid her with her head hanging over the edge of the bed and tied her hands to each post before using his clawed hands to rip her clothes to shreds. Malakai laughed seeing how eager his best monster was. “You can get the first taste Luchasaurus, I’m gonna make sure she can’t scream.” Both men stripped off whatever clothing they had on as (Y/N) tried to press her legs together, her cheeks flushed pink while her eyes tried to look away. Malakai grabbed her neck with a deep growl vibrating his chest. “You better open those legs before we get forceful.” With a gulp she slowly opened her legs before letting out a yelp as Luchasaurus grabbed her plump thighs roughly, lightly cutting her flesh with his claws and making a little blood trickle down her lifted legs.

“Look at this curvy girl, Malakai. She is going to look adorable covered in bruises and cuts.” Luchasaurus bent his head down to her (F/C) lace panties while licking his fangs. He slowly bites the crotch of the panties and her clit through them. (Y/N) yelped from his bite before her face went full red, feeling him taking her panties off with his teeth. Malakai slapped his cock against her slightly open lips. “Open up princess. Obey us and we might spare your life.” His hand lightly squeezed her throat in encouragement then grinning like the Cheshire Cat as her mouth opened. “Good girl.”

Slowly the tattooed demon pushed his cock into her mouth just as Luchasaurus slid a finger into her with a grin. “She is already wet for us, master. Is the little dove turned on?” He roughly pushed his finger in then curled it, making (Y/N) flinch and choke on Malakai’s cock. Both men groan watching her reaction with hunger. “Hurry the fuck up and get her ready. I want that delicious pussy clenching my cock like her throat is.” Luchasaurus nodded as he pulled his finger out to grab her hips with both hands before pressing his tongue against her soaking folds. (Y/N) let out a muffled moan while her legs flinched in his grasp.

Suddenly time seemed to stand still as the monster jerked back with a shocked look on his face. “Malakai.” His red eyes flashed brown for a moment before turning back to red, he made eye contact with his master and both had a look of hope before a new hunger clouded their gaze. Luchasaurus grabbed her hips and gently lifted them up before shoving his tongue into her folds with a hungry growl. Malakai started to thrust harder into (Y/N)’s mouth while one hand gripped her throat while the other gripped a handful of hair at the back of her head. “Fuck! Just when I thought this evening couldn't get better.” He grins down at her before making eye contact with Luchasaurus again. “Wij heb een fokker gevonden!~”

The monster between her thighs began eating her out as if it was the last thing he would ever devour. (Y/N) felt waves of pleasure as he ate her out as if it was his last meal. Malakai groaned as he shoved his cock once more down the little human’s throat before pulling out. (Y/N) coughed and gasped for hair as the demon above her laughed. “Laten we samen deze kleine fokken.” Luchasaurus grinned as he sat up with her arousal soaking his lips and beard. “Agreed. Let’s double stuff her till she passes out.” Malakai untied her hands only to put them together behind her back. He then took a seat on her bed.

(Y/N) struggled until the demon forced her to sit in his lap after he leaned his back against the headboard. He then grinds his cock against her soaked pussy. “Good job, my warrior. She is perfect for us to ravish and stuff.” She felt the monster come up behind her and rub his cock against her wet folds as well. “W-Wait! I can’t take you both! It’s impossible! Y-you will kill me.” Malakai grabs her throat and kisses her roughly. “Oh, you will take both of us. And we will stuff you till our seed flows out of your tight cunt.”

Before she could get another word out both men shove their cocks into her pussy, making her almost scream from the slight pain. Luchasaurus groaned as he pressed his face against her neck. “Mmm! Fuck she’s tight as hell!” Malakai moaned as he kissed (Y/N) again as his tongue shoved into her mouth. “Mmm, yes. So tight and fertile.” Without giving her a chance to adjust they start thrusting into her, growling groaning let both their lips as they fuck her. She moaned when Luchasaurus bit her shoulder as his thrusts became rougher, making her breasts bounce in Malakai’s face.

“F-Fuck! I can’t! Too much!” The demon suddenly wrapped his lips around one of her nipples and bit it softly, causing her to choke on a moan as her pussy tightened around them both. Luchasaurus’s growling moans became louder as his right hand started rubbing her clit. “Mmmm! Fuck yes! Get tighter for us, little dove. Drive us feral to breed and claim you.” Both men started to get more handsy and grab her curvy body wherever they could. Their lips and teeth touching and biting her delicate skin to claim more of her body as theirs.

(Y/N) was so confused and yet could not help but be turned on by their words and actions. Her body was burning with intense pleasure as her pussy was stuffed. Slowly she gave into the lust and leaned back against Luchasaurus while still riding Malakai. “A-Ahh! Please, please.” This made the monster smirk as he licked along her neck while Malakai pulled back to make her look into his eyes. “Please what? Use your words, tell us what our little prey wants from her new masters?” Her eyes stared into his as his hands slipped to her hips, gripping her flesh to grind against her as his cock slid to the base in her. She fell under his spell as she fully gave in. “Please make me cum. I’m so close, Master Malakai.” Her pussy throbbed around them while her legs shook from riding him.

With a dark chuckle the demon snapped his fingers at Luchasaurus. “Lay on your back, Lucha. It’s time to make her scream our names.” Nodding his head the beast moved slowly to lay on his back with her laying on him. Malakai moved to his knees and looked down at her with a grin. As soon as they got comfortable their thrusting started again with a new energy, their hips slapping against hers rougher now. Lucha’s hands held her hips tight as he picked up the pace. “Fuck! So close, little dove. Master, let me cum in her!” Malakai laughs as he thrusted harder into (Y/N) and makes her take more of Lucha, making the lantern groan. “No, we cum together in this little human. Hold it a bit longer until I say so.” He grabbed Lucha’s throat with a sinister grin. “Or else I will blue ball you and you won’t get to cum for a month!”

He growled in agreement before both men continued to breed her, leaving bite marks and red scratches on her body. Soon Malakai pressed his face against the left side of her neck while Lucha had her right. “Mmm! Make her cum with us! Fuck let’s make her a mother.” Lucha suddenly started to rub (Y/N)’s clit harder and even slapped it as he and Malakai desperately thrust harder into her. “Fuck! Yes dove! Cry out our names! Say you belong to us!”

When both slammed into her together they hit her g-spot perfectly, causing her to scream as she cums on their cocks. Lucha kept rubbing her clit as he and Malakai roared out as they cum deep inside her, filling her with their seed. Both men bite into her shoulder and neck as they claim her, now she belonged to them forever. As she passed out from the intensity the monster softly was licking her neck with a purr. “Sleep now. You did so good for us.” Malakai chuckled as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, you need to sleep. When you awaken, we will take you to our home. Where you will be loved, fed, and spoiled.” (Y/N) tried to speak but was shushed by the demon as he lightly stroked her hair. “Shhh, close those eyes and sleep. You will know our reasoning later.”

Slowly they moved to where all three could sleep comfortably while staying inside her to make sure she gets pregnant. Neither man cared about who got to impregnate her first, they only desired to protect and breed her. She was more important than she knew, a very special human who could give them children. (Y/N) allowed the darkness of sleep to take her as she curled up in the arms of a demon lord and a monster, feeling safer with them than she ever did before. The young woman had a feeling her life will never be the same after that All Hallows Eve night.

#malakai black smut #malakai black fanfiction #aew #all elite wrestling #aew dynamite #luchasaurus #halloween #all hallows eve #luchasaurus fanfiction #luchasaurus smut #demon malakai black #monster luchasaurus

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