#which didn't deserve it either. but it was just any and all sexuality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atinystraynstay · 2 months

Text

Cupid's Arrow - Choi San

Synopsis: You refused to spend another Valentine's Day alone. You have tried online dating, having friends set you up on spontaneous dates, and even made efforts to flirt in public. This year, you were settling for something a bit different - speed-dating.

Pairing: non-idol!Choi San x fem. reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, trying to find love in a major city

Warning: mentions alcohol consumption, slight vulgar language, suggestive sexual activity

Word Count: 3.8k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"This is.. West 4th-Washington Square. Please stand clear of the opening doors."

Your heart was racing, your body practically trembling as you stared forward. Was this actually going to happen?

Ding

Quickly but carefully, you pushed yourself out of the opening of the subway. You didn't want to get trampled by the crowds of people trying to get in. You've learned better to just move as quickly as possible if you want to make it to your destination on time.

You also learned how easily frustrated people get when they are behind someone who either doesn't know where they are going or is just walking slowly.

Last year, you took the leap of faith and moved to New York City. Like many others, you dreamed of moving to this extravagant place to make a name for yourself. You daydreamed of walking the busy streets and having a cute tiny apartment with a skyline view. You sacrificed that latter wish for an in-unit washer and dryer - a real jackpot find!

While you certainly have made friends in the city, you often find yourself frustrated with the dating department. You have been on several first dates, a few that turned into second and third dates. One or two turned into potential relationships.

Yet, it would quickly fizzle out.

At first, you thought that it was something with you. You tried changing how you approach first dates, how you dress for them - anything that you thought you could be doing wrong was thought over meticulously.

"The problem isn't you," your roommate vowed. Your racing mind was settled by the NYC Dating Queen herself. She has been through the wringer with guys throughout the whole city. "You're in your 20s in New York City," she laughed. "Most guys are thinking with their dick first then their brain. Ever notice how many guys are reaching back out, begging for another chance?"

You slowly nodded your head. "Yeah, which is so annoying because by the time they think straight, I've already moved on."

Maybe you were a bit old-fashioned when it came to love. No, you weren't in the market to settle down quite yet. You wanted to meet someone and take things slow, go on dates, and be exclusive before making that big of a commitment. Getting the conversation out of the dating apps was the first milestone you wanted to achieve.

"Good! Don't give them any type of satisfaction. All of these guys are dates from Tinder?" "Yep," you announced, making sure to pop the 'p' before taking a sip out of your wine glass. "So you're also getting the mix of tourist guys who are just horny and wanting to fuck while visiting the city."

You groaned at the realization, your head leaning back against the arm of the couch. How was she always right about this kind of stuff?

"You deserve to meet your prince charming in another way. Clearly, dating apps are not cutting it." "And going up to a guy at the bar scares me," you confessed before fixing your posture.

The two of you were sitting on the couch. It was a snowy night in the city which caused many of your evening plans to get canceled. The two of you were nestled on the couch, watching a movement on HBO Max with a chilled bottle of red wine. Your other roommate managed to escape the apartment to go on a date tonight. Lucky bitch.

"You know how our lovely roommate is out on a date?"

You nodded again as you looked over, an eyebrow raised. Wherew as this going?

"She only got together with him once she deleted the dating apps and tried something different." And the look on your other roommate's face told you she had something planned for you.

That was how you find your way navigating through the busy streets of Manhattan. You had no idea that speed-dating was so popular, or that it could be successful. Your roommate's current relationship gave you hope that meeting someone this authentically could be the solution to your problems.

Tonight, speed-dating was taking place at a bar in Greenwich Village. You've honestly been trying to come grab brunch here as you were drawn to the aesthetics shown off on social media.

It did bring a smile to your face to see the white-painted door surrounded by vines. Three brick steps led up to the front door. It was like a little escape room all the steel and concrete of the city.

Even though you were ecstatic to be going to this new place, it didn't help your nerves. You were the type of person who loved getting to know someone for sure, but something was intimidating about going on multiple "first dates." You had to put on a good impression for more than an hour.

“Hi, you also hear for the speed dating?” A voice called out from beside you.

You looked over to see the most gorgeous man. He was tall, dressed in a black button up which peaked from the grey winter coat he was wearing. His hair was sleeked back with a few strands framing his forehead. He also wore this soft smile which made your knees weak. He was definitely going to be hot commodity tonight.

You nodded slightly, offering also a gentle smile. “How could you tell?” “Let’s just say I’m hoping to get to know you better tonight,” he said, winking.

It took everything in you not to let your jaw drop. You never met someone who spoke so coolly. He was the total package.

“Come on, let’s get you out of the cold. You’re practically shivering.”

Maybe it was from the chilly evening hair. Or maybe it was your nerves overriding your system. Either way, you were not going to disclose the truth. Not when this gentleman had his hand placed on your lower back to help you inside.

“Already trying to win me over?” You asked teasingly. “How could you tell?” He asked, matching your tone from earlier.

The two of you shared soft laughter as you crossed the threshold into the cocktail bar. There were tables lined up with white linen, a candle in the middle, and a short bouquet of flowers. Frank Sinatra was playing overheard, both screaming New York and romance. The mystery man stood slightly behind you, his hand leaving your back which you already missed.

“Hi! Sorry, we are closed for a private event,” the hostess said. “Oh no, sorry! We are both here for the speed-dating event,” you explained.

The hostess blush lightly from her mistake before nodding her head. “My apologizes, I assumed you two were already a couple since you walked in together. Can I get your name, please?”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at the insinuation. Sure, you guys happened to cross paths with the handsome stranger. Possibilities were endless though!

“Y/f/n y/l/name” “Great! All checked in. Here is your number ticket that indicates your table. And here is two drink tickets for the evening.”

You nodded, saying a quick “thank you.” You took the tickets before putting your phone in your purse. It bought you enough time to overhear the stranger behind you and gain some pieces of his identity.

“And your name, sir?” “Choi San.”

You smiled to yourself once you got his name. Choi San.

Not wanting to linger anymore, you began making your way to the long row of tables. Each table had a heart laminated and taped to the table. They were numbered 1-16. Glancing down at your ticket, you saw you were placed at number 7, your own lucky number.

More people were beginning to file into the establishment. However, you were trying your best not to scope out too much. You wanted to go into this open-minded, wanting to take in the experience while remaining open to the potential of finding a new connection. It didn’t help that your mind was already infiltrated with a man named Choi San.

“Looks like I’ll have to wait a little bit to get to know you, pretty girl,” San said.

He winked at you as he passed by your table, heading towards Table 8. Looks like you’ll be ending your night on a high note if he would be your last encounter of the night. You watched him for a moment. He sat on the opposite side of you, giving an indicator that the men will either be transitioning or the females will.

Feeling your eyes on him, he looked over at you too quickly for your liking. It didn’t give you enough of a chance to glance away. Your cheeks were also a key indicator what you had been up to, which weren’t really concealed despite the dimmed lighting. He chuckled lightly underneath his breath before he got to work at shrugging off his jacket.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away when his jacket off did in fact confirm the black button up he was wearing. What kept your attention was the way his fingers got to work unbuttoning the top 2, revealing his golden chest underneath. You wanted to be respectful, but you couldn’t help but slightly gawk at the man adjacent from you.

“Keep your eyes on me, angel. I’ll be coming for you.”

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

"Welcome ladies and gentleman to our fifth annual Cupid's Speeding Dating! Here is how it's going to go. Men are going to move to the left, switching the seat to chat with a new woman. You will have five minutes to make your best first impression."

Your eyes shifted over towards San, seeing that he would be moving further away from you at first. However, that just means you get to be the last person he talks to tonight.

"You know, there are a lot of things I can do in 5 minutes." You were interrupted by your internal thoughts by the man across from you. Your nose scrunched up as you understand quickly what he was suggesting.

"Please do not exchange numbers or socials until the next of the event. We want to make sure you are investing more into your conversations."

The guy across from you smirked again, winking. Ugh! Does this guy really think he has a chance?

You leaned back into the seat, wanting to create distance from you and your first date of the evening. You weren't much of a person to fixate on appearances. I mean, the guy was quite attractive. Yet, the moment he opened his mouth, all possible attraction flew out the door. It honestly just made you yearn more for San.

Noticing movement out of his peripheral, San glanced over. He flashed you a smile before going to pay attention to his current date. Sure, he knew he was most excited to talk to you, but he also didn't want to be rude. He just couldn't help but glance over to make sure you were okay.

"You can begin!" The host said excitedly.

Soon, the cocktail bar was filled with chatter. You decided to take a sip of water to ease your nerves, but also try to come up with a conversation to have with this guy. You were forced to be sat at the same time for the next five minutes anyways.

"So, what's your favorite position?"

This might possibly be the longest five minutes of your life.

Luckily, the guy talked more about himself which helped time run out. He was leaning across the table, as if he was trying to look down the top of your dress which caused you to only lean back into the wooden back of the chair. You also were silently thankful when the waitress brought over your first drink of the evening.

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

"Okay, gentleman, please move one to your left."

The guy across from you let out a groan before pushing himself up. "I'll catch you after tonight," the guy said, winking. "Maybe we can go home together. Or slip into the bathroom for a little fun." You didn't even catch his name nor did you want to.

"It was nice chatting with you," San said next to you. "Good luck this evening!" There is an example of a gentleman.

As he got up to head to the next table, he smiled once more at the girl he was first chatting to. He also took a moment to glance at you, smiling a bit brighter. You felt as if you were going to melt in your seat. You just had to wait 14 more rounds before you got to be alone with San.

The second quickly blended itself until the 10th round. Sure, you loved chatting with the guys, and you could see yourself potentially going on a real first date with one or two. However, the whole time, you kept glancing over at San.

It would cause a twitch in your heart when he laughed at another girl's joke. The further he separated from you, the less you noticed his eyes finding yours. The reality that he could be more interested in someone else was beginning to set in. He could very much land at your table, being the last date of the night, and be exhausted. He could already have his heart set on another which caused you to sigh softly.

"I see you have eyes for someone already."

Looking up, you were greeted by a wide smile. The gentleman in front of you took a seat in front of you, running his hands through his hair to push back his hair. He was wearing an all-black outfit - dress pants that had a white, thin strip running up the side; a black v-neck that showed the silver chain around his neck, and a slightly oversized black sport coat.

"Sorry," you laughed lightly, blushing a bit. You didn't want to give off the wrong impression, especially when this gentleman seemed kind.

"No need to be sorry. Should introduced myself since it sees that you're gawking at my best friend," he said proudly. "My name is Wooyoung, and you are?"

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit intrigued. "Y/n." You took a sip out of your cocktail before setting it down on the counter. "You are friends with San?" "Oh, I see you two are on a first-name basis now. When is the wedding?"

Your cheeks got hotter as you took another sip out of your drink, which caused the young man to laugh. "Don't worry, I've seen him checking you out as well." "Stop, you're just saying that," you laughed. "We only met literally 30 minutes ago. There is no way that he is checking me out and I haven't noticed."

Leaning back into his chair, a smug grin curled onto his lips. He had one hand on the table, and the other resting on the back of the chair.

"You have no reason to trust me since I'm a complete stranger. However, I know my best friend. And I can tell you right now that if you look to my right side, you would be able to see San. And I bet he's fuming that his best friend is chatting up the girl he's been eyeing all evening."

You raised an eyebrow at this man's analysis. He looked at you challengingly, egging you on to look over to his right.

Unable to resist, you looked over. Your eyes widened as you noticed San was glancing from his date over to your table. His fists were clenched slightly while he did his best to maintain his composure in front of the woman he was chatting to. Yet, it was as if steam was about to shoot out of his ears.

"See?" Wooyoung said triumphantly. "You've got San wrapped around your pretty little finger, y/n."

Seeing San make eye contact with you, his eyes widened before he quickly looked away. You couldn't help but smile a bit brighter, your confidence starting to rise again. Maybe Wooyoung was right after all.

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

"I'll definitely be seeing you around, y/n. Have a good rest of your evening," Wooyoung announced. He pushed himself up from his seat, about to move to the next table.

One thing you learned about Wooyoung in your short encounter was that he was filled with evil schemes and plots. For example, calling out how you and San kept looking at each other as if nobody could notice. You learned that while San was his best friend, he also liked getting a rise out of him.

Before you could say anything back to him, Wooyoung moved closer to you. He leaned down to press a firm kiss to your cheek, one everyone at the speed-dating event could see. Your eyes widened at his action. What was he thinking?!

People seemed to notice which caused cheers from the guys in attendance while the other women gasped. "Please keep it moving, Romeo," the event host announced. "You'll have enough time to show affection later."

"You'll thank me later," he whispered to you before moving to the seat at the next table.

You felt a bit guilty for not remembering the four guys. They seemed very friendly, having personalities that made it easy to talk to. You guys couldn't describe what on Earth was even said, not when your mind was counting down until you finally got to talk to San.

"You're a great listener, y/n. Too early to ask for your number?" "The host said no exchanging until after."

You looked over to see San standing up straight. You didn't think he did so maliciously, but it was obvious he was annoyed by the guy still sitting down. The guy you just talked to glanced over at you before putting his hands up in surrender and getting up.

Just as quick as the guy stood up, San slid into the seat. He moved the chair in so he could lean slightly over the table. "Do you like knowing your a hot commodity, angel?" He asked softly, a drastic change from how he just spoke.

"I have no idea what you are referring to," you said innocently.

San's hand moved to rest close to yours, his fingertips ghosting over your own. It sent electric shocks throughout your body just be being in close proximity.

"So you don't want to admit that my best friend had you giggling? You couldn't have thought that Wooyoung was seriously that funny. He gets all his best jokes from me!"

You could see San was getting a bit worked up. His chest was puffed up, wanting to present himself as a better option against whoever stood in his way, even if it was his best friend. Little did San know he had no true competition when you've had your eyes on him all evening.

"Actually, I found it adorable how jealous you get. Wooyoung merely pointed out this fact," you said, smirking.

You noticed then San's shoulders slump over a bit. His cheeks were flushed as he stared at you for a moment before looking towards the end of the row where Wooyoung was. Wooyoung, who was watching you two this whole time and offered a wave over to you two.

Sensing that San was getting a bit flustered, you moved your hand to rest on his. This caused his attention to move back to you, a smile curling onto his lips. He glanced down at your hands, eyes flickering to yours. You were not sure what he was looking for, but it became clear once he slipped his fingers in between yours.

And he looks for consent before doing anything? What a jackpot.

"I'll have to admit though. I was also getting jealous. I didn't like seeing you laugh with other girls when it should've been me," you confessed. Sure, you were just as embarrassed owning up to your faults, but you also hoped an ounce of your truth made San feel better.

It seemed to do the trick as his body relaxed. His thumb gently caresses the side of your index finger. You noticed his eyes were not leaving yours whatsoever, unlike before when his eyes would wonder around.

"Well, darlin', we don't need to wait anymore. You've got me all to yourself."

You and San spent the next hour or so chatting. You talked about your childhood, how you both ended up in New York City, and all your favorite things. Every time you talked, San looked at you as if you were made out of gems. He just adored listening to you, finally being sat at the same table with you.

San has always wanted to come to the United States. At first, it was to practice his English. However, he quickly realized that he wanted to learn more about people. He was currently researching graduate programs to study Sociology.

So not only is he kind and physically attractive, but he also was outgoing and intelligent. He was just checking every one of your boxes!

But he also was falling hard for you. He was impressed with how you took a leap into moving to New York City by himself. He was lucky to have Wooyoung whoo made the whole transition easier, so he couldn't imagine taking on the city solo. He admired your courage.

He also wouldn't vocalize it quite yet but he almost felt as if you two were destined to be in the same city.

The two of you didn't even notice that the other participants had left. The guys you had talked to tried staying around to grab your number, fuming at how San seemed to have snatched all your attention. Being the great friend Wooyoung is, he ushered them out so you and San could be uninterrupted.

It was as if Wooyoung was your own Cupid, doing everything in his power to make sure the love connection worked.

"I'm sorry, love birds, but we need to close up for the night."

San and you looked around, not realizing that all the tables had been cleaned and cleared after the event. The room was silent except for the noise of movement in the kitchen.

Looking back at you, he bit his lip. The clogs were stirring in his mind as if he was trying to figure out what to do next. Of course, you two would leave the cocktail bar, but then what? He looked as if he was afraid to say goodbye, and so were you.

"Why don't we walk around the Village? I'm sure we could find a late-night diner that isn't too crowded." "That sounds perfect."

San helped you out of the table before lifting yup your winter coat. He held it out for you, assisting you in slipping your arms through the sleeves. You turned slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, which made San light up like a little kid on Christmas day.

He quickly slipped on his own jacket before going to rest his hand back on your lower back. He nodded his head, both apologizing for overstaying but thanking the host for putting together the event.

She smiled understandingly as she witnessed San escort you back outside. His free hand pushes the front door open for you.

Maybe love did exist in New York City after all.

321 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 7 months

Text

Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you.

__________________

Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either...

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥

#yandere bg3 #yandere!bg3 #death shepherd #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

412 notes · View notes

slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 9 months

Text

and.. ACTION! - Margot Robbie

Pairing - Margot Robbie x fem!reader

Fluff, angst and homophobia (happy ending), implied NSFW

Word count: 2.7k (didn't mean for it to be that long lmao, it's juicy though)

!!not proofread!!

(reader is a film director)

Margot POV:

I've just stared working on my new set for Barbie and it's taking a bit of getting used to because there are 2 directors for this movie Greta Gerwig and Y/N Y/L/N, and don't get me wrong they're both amazing directors but it's just new having two.

At the minute we're on break and I'm sitting with Ryan, America and Y/N. I've grown close to everyone in this cast, we're like a family but I have gotten especially close with Y/N I don't know what it is about her but ever since the first time I heard her say "and.. ACTION!" I've been having these feelings for her. I can't really put my finger on what the feelings are though, I thought at first I just wanted to be her friend because she was cool and endearing but now, I'm thinking it might be more. But, I'm straight so it can't be right? Yeah, it can't be Margot you're being delusional. (we're all a bit delulu sometimes xx)

"Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second there." her soft voice snapped me out of my trance. "Yeah no, I'm fine. Just thinking." I replied tripping over my words a bit, I always seem to get nervous around her maybe it is.. no it can't be.

"You sure, you seemed pretty focused, I don't want you to worry you're pretty little head about things okay? You can talk to me if stuff is bothering you, you know that right?" and there she goes again, making me blush. Is she flirting with me or just giving me a compliment? Either way, I can't help the crimson blush that invades my face. She's always been so caring, always making sure I'm okay. I don't deserve her. Looking down now, slightly embarrassed I reply "Yeah I know, and we'll uhm- there is-" I fumble over my words now second guessing myself "isn't anything so don't worry about me, I promise okay?" I hold out my pinky so she can link her own around mine. "Okayy, if you say so but my offer still stands I'm always gunna be here."

I give her a warm smile and suddenly the moment is ruined by Ryan walking in and telling us we're needed on set. "I'll see you later?" she asked with the cutest smile ever on her face. "Of course." I replied.

Okay, yeah. I like her, in the same way I normally like boys. Wow, this is new.

Y/N POV:

We've just got off a back to back shooting day, hardly any breaks apart from the quick 5 minutes that I shared with my favourite person. Margot, obviously if that wasn't clear. I don't even think she swings this way but, a girl can dream right? Anyway, she's joining me and my parents for dinner tonight and, well, they're not the most supportive about my sexual orientation should I say. So, she offered to be a buffer, you know, soften the blow a bit when they throw insult after insult my way. I mean I could just bail the dinner but, they're my parents I owe them certain things so, I have promised to always make an effort to go see them, no matter what. So that's how I ended up here, walking to Margot's trailer and knocking on the door.

"Ready to go endure around 2 hours of relentless condescending comments from my parents?" I said to her as she opened the door.

"Of course I am, it's my favourite hobby." She replied sarcastically. I giggled and offered her my arm which she willingly took.

On the walk to the car we had polite small talk about how our days had gone, as we hadn't seen much of each other even though we're on the same set. She was in the Barbieland set while I was on the real world set with America and Ariana.

We get in the car and I start driving. I'm lost in my thoughts worrying about all the ways this could go incredibly wrong. Margot's soft voice snaps me out of my trance.

"Are you okay? And don't bullshit me Y/N you've got worry written all over your face." I sighed deeply and she put her hand on my thigh. I blushed deeply at the contact but didn't let that stray me from answering her. "I'm just really dreading this night, it's the first meal we've had together in about a year so, i don't know what to expect really."

"Hey, normally i'd say look at me but you're driving and that probably isn't smart but," i chuckled lightly at that comment "you don't need their approval about every single aspect of your life, because it's your life. Also, who cares if they don't agree with your sexuality? It's none of their business who you bang."

I genuinely laugh for the first time this evening at the last comment. I briefly glance at Mar and smile. "Thank you for that, really. It helps to hear it."

"No problem okay? And if at any point during the meal you're just thinking 'I need to leave like, now' then just tell me and I'll act like my apartment had been broken into or something so we can leave. I'm an amazing actress you know?" There's an evident smirk plastered across her beautiful face and I giggle at her sarcasm. "I'm fully aware and I'll drop you a text if it gets too unbearable."

"Good." She says smiling as she turns back around so she's facing the road again. The car ride continues in a comfortable silence and Taylor Swift playing in the background.

Time skip to when they're at the house

Margot POV:

"Okay we're here." I hear y/n/n say as we came to a stop outside her parents house.

"Hey, you've got this." I say as I take her hand and give it a light squeeze. "Yeah, I hope so." She responded anxiety prominent in her voice.

We walk up to the front door and knock. Not even a second later it swings open revealing a short woman who appears to be in her sixties and a man who appears to only be a tad older behind her. "Oh my goodness, y/n/n it's been far too long." After saying that she instantly pull the y/h/c into a tight hug. "Hiya mum." She says back awkwardly patting her back, y/n is not a hugger. Any parent should know such a small detail like that about their kid. I internally roll my eyes because I can see the stiffness of her body as her mum squeezes even tighter. "Ah, you must be Margot?" Her dad says from behind the mother and daughter. "Oh, uhm, yes that's me." I say extending my hand for him to shake which her returns politely. Her mum has now fully released her grip on y/n and extends her hand so she can shake mine while saying. "Hopefully not girlfriend." My face goes flat. No emotion, just plain hatred for this woman already and I haven't even stepped in the house. I clear my throat and say, "No, I'm not but I don't think it would be an issue if I was." Both her parents just shared disapproving looks but beckoned us in none the less. This was going to be a long night.

Time skip to them eating tea (dinner)

Y/n POV:

So far nothing about the comment earlier nor the subject had come up so it had actually been a really fun night so far. So far. I knew it was all going downhill when we sat down at the dinning table because that's when topics like politics and live life come up. I was not excited to say the least. "Guys 'cmon foods ready!" my dad yells from the kitchen. Me, my mum and Margot make our way to the dinning room where there is a gorgeous looking Sunday roast laying in the table waiting for us. "Dad that looks amazing." I say to him.

"Just wait till you taste the stuffing I got some new herbs from the garden and chucked them in, it's really tasty." We all went to our respective seats on the table my parents opposite me and Margot. As soon as my mother opened my mouth I knew it was all going to go horribly wrong.

"So y/n/n any news?"

"Like what mum?"

"Oh well, I don't know, a boyfriend?"

Margot shot daggers at my mum but she didn't take any notice.

"No." I say, trying to be as blunt and cut off as possible.

"Oh don't worry dear, a nice man will make his way into your life soon enough." My dad chimes in.

"Yeah, and then you can settle down and have a proper life with children and a proper man not any of that 'lesbian' nonsense you've been talking about." *you can change that to whatever your sexuality is but i just chose lesbian bc it fits*

I sit and stare at her with a flabbergasted look in my face. "For the last time, I. Am. A. Lesbian. I'm not going to find a nice man because I'm not interested in men, just because you don't understand that doesn't mean that you can't accept it. Also I'm not being funny but it doesn't matter who I end up with, my life is 'proper' and as long as I love the person I end up with, which I will; very dearly it doesn't matter what their gender is, but I'm just letting you know it will be a girl. And, I don't give a flying fuck wether my children are adopted, if they're IVF or anything! Okay?! Because at the end of the day they'll be my children and I'll love them unconditionally so, that's all that matters. And I'm not being funny I shouldn't of even come tonight because every single time I come it's the same thing over and i over again, you are both like broken records!" By the end of my rant I'm practically yelling at them and at some point in my rage I stood up from my chair. I look at them both, waiting for some kind of comeback.

"Never speak to me or your father like that again. You are a worthless piece of shit dyke and no child of mine!" She yelled at me and by this point there were tears rolling down my face. She then continued, "Imagine what Margot thinks of this, huh? You arguing with your parents and speaking to us in that manner? She also must be appalled that you're a, a- lesbian." she held so much disgust in her voice when she said that it made my blood boil and when Margot instantly rose from her chair I could tell it had the exact same effect on her.

Margot POV:

"Well Mrs Y/L/N-"

"Please call me Claire."

"Okay, Claire. Do you want my honest opinion on this topic?"

"Yes dear I would, please knock some sense i to this girl."

As soon as those words left her mouth I turned to y/n/n and thought to myself 'well it's now or never' and I put on arm around her waist and the other behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It was a sweet innocent kiss and we pulled away rather quickly because we were obviously still in front of her parents. As we pulled apart she was beaming and so was I. Her face was a light pink now and it made me feel good knowing I did that to her. I wa brought back to reality when her mother chimed in again. "How long has this sinning been going on for?" Y/n head snapped round to mine looking panicked but I just scoffed loudly and said "This loving, caring relationship has been going on for 6 months, since we started filming together." I saw her mother roll her eyes but now it was her dads turn to stand up. "That's it! I've had it with you!" he paused for a second and I glanced at y/n and tears were rolling down her eyes because we both thought that she was about to get practically disowned for the second time tonight. "Claire, why can't you just be happy for our daughter, she's in love for christ sake! I don't care if she's gay. I care that she's happy,I care that she's loved. I don't understand your inability to do such things!" Me, y/n and her mum looked just as surprised as each other when those words left his mouth. Choking back even more tears y/n said "Thank you dad, really. It means a lot l." Her dad then walked around the table and stopped before her went in to hug her. "You don't like hugs do you?" he said

"No, but I guess I can make an exception."

My heat swelled at the scene playing out before me, her mother storming out the house and y/n/n and her dad making up. I was incredibly sweet.

As they pulled away her dad said "I know this hasn't exactly been the ideal evening but, I'm happy for the both of you okay? Now go home and get some rest sweetheart, and it was lovely meeting you Margot and just in advance you have my blessing if you ever want to, you know pop the question. Just to put it out there I'm only saying that because I know people like to ask the dad and I just thought you might be a bit too worried to ask when the times tight because of her mother so, I thought I'd tell you now so, no pressure but uhm- yeah." He said it with so much sincerity and love in his voice it made me instinctively pull him into a hug. "Thank you Mr y/l/n" I said tears pricking my eyes. "Please, call me John."

"Thank you John."

Y/N POV:

I just set there still crying, but more tears of joy at this point and observed the two most important people in my life at the minute share the most sickly sweet moment ever. I was amazing.

Time skip to once you drive Margot home (still reader pov)

"So, 6 months huh?" I said teasingly as I walked her to the door of her house. "I don't work well under pressure, okay?" I laughed at her response and then when she got to the door she looked at me straight in the eye. "I mean I wouldn't be totally objected to the idea of being with you for 6 months." she trailed off getting quieter at the end of her sentence and looking away nervously. "You know, neither would I." Her eyes instantly found mine again and she looked down at me since she's slightly taller. "Really?"

"Yes Margot, really."

She grabbed my face and pulled me into a bruising kiss. Our lips moved in perfect sync, her teeth grazing my bottom lip and slightly biting it causing me to let out a small moan. Her hand that had snaked around to my waist pulled me in closer at that action. Her lip grazed over my top lip asking for entrance which I happily granted her, she pushed her tongue into my mouth instantly and started exploring causing me to move my hands from her hips to around her neck pulling her in even further. We continued until we needed to pull away for air. "You wanna come inside and continue?" she asked suggestively.

"Definitely." At that she picked me up and i wrapped my legs around her torso and we resumed our previous actions. As we got to her room she layer me down on the bed and got on top of me. "Good thing we don't have set tomorrow because I don't think we'll be getting much sleep tonight darling."

And just like always, she was right.

#wlw #lesbian pride #lesbian #wlw fanfic #sapphic #wlw pride #margot robbie #margot robbie x reader #barbie #barbie x reader

294 notes · View notes

celluloidbroomcloset · 6 days

Text

The more I think about it, the more I do wonder if some of the source of the more problematic ships/fan headcanons surrounding Izzy is based in the concept of love/sex as a reward for service or suffering. (Note: I am not at all saying that what follows is 100% correct - mostly just proposing a hypothesis. I'm riffing on @naranjapetrificada's post here, but I didn't want to go off on a treatise on someone else's post that wasn't even directly about this.)

Izzy’s world is upended with Stede’s appearance. He goes from being the trusted second in command to Blackbeard to being thrown off the ship (by his own making, already). All of his suffering (in his own mind) can be traced back to Stede and consequently Stede and Ed’s relationship. The narrative forms him as an antagonist not just to Stede but to the narrative's central concern, the entire reason for telling the story: the Stede/Ed relationship. He is the opposition of the healthy, happy, queer couple, and at each turn, he suffers for it.

In Season 2, his suffering is compounded to the point that he loses his leg in a really traumatic way, at the hands of a man he claims (in the same episode) to love. This leads into his being offered grace by the crew and the start of some shedding of his toxic masculinity (which has been the real enemy all along). And this is where I hypothesize that some fans start shaping him into someone who is now deserving of a reward. Izzy has changed! He’s grown! He’s doing better! Doesn't he *deserve* a reward for that?!

One of the forms that this reward must take is love/sex - and since the focal point of the entire show, as well as the causes of Izzy’s suffering, are Ed and Stede (the happy queer relationship) then his reward must be one or the other, or both. Having suffered and having come to better terms with his gender and sexual identity, he deserves the reward of romantic love and/or sex.

This is all, of course, not right, and the show never even hints that love or sex should be treated as a reward. Neither Ed nor Stede show any desire to provide Izzy with this reward (and honestly, I don’t think that Izzy the character expects that either, even if his fans might). But I do think that some of the anger and some of the “fix-it” mentality of the fandom subsection comes from the fact that Izzy’s character growth is not rewarded by romantic love or sex. (This ignores as well that he does find love in other ways, via his friendship with the crew, but this is also not typed as something he DESERVES or is rewarded for his good behavior.)

Stede in particular, I think, becomes a focus of the combined fan ire and desire because (in their minds) he was the original catalyst for Izzy’s suffering, he has obtained the reward of Ed’s love (thereby depriving Izzy of it), and he can be fitted for the enemies to lovers arc (plus he’s white and there’s undoubtedly racism at play here, as many have discussed). This might even be extended to Ed's love for Stede: that Ed was in some way rewarded for becoming better, that Stede's love healed him and therefore Izzy—who is so much more deserving, right?!—should also be offered that love.

Again, this is all based in toxic, erroneous assumptions both about the characters, about the show, and about love and sex, but all those assumptions have been made by stories in the past and are baked into a lot of mainstream culture.

The "fix-it" nature of ships like Stizzy and Steddyhands come down to some fans believing Izzy is not being granted his just rewards for his suffering and character growth in the form of love and sex specifically from the lead couple who have caused his suffering.

At least, that's what I think is going on.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #edward teach #not gonna tag the other guy right now #fandom critical

45 notes · View notes

gretavanfleetposts · 5 months

Text

Fire in the Water: Chapter Seven

Summary: You had thought dating a vampire would be the most complicated thing you'd ever done. But as it turns out, becoming one is even more complicated. The boys are determined to make your transformation as smooth as possible while each fighting to maintain the relationships they once had and those they now lust for. Author's Note: As always, I'd like to thank the lovely @gretasmokerising for inspiring me and encouraging me and @earthlysorrows for editing and helping me piece everything together/brainstorm Content Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, mentions of killing, blood drinking, fingering and other sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) Word Count: 11.8k

Add Yourself to the Taglist

"I owe you an apology."

Jake had found you sitting on the bed Josh had left behind in his room. The bed was still there but Josh was now gone, where you weren't sure. He hadn't even told you he was leaving. You'd come back from a hunt to find his room devoid of him. Danny had been the one to break the news to you.

"For what?" you asked without even turning to look at him as you ran your hand over the tattered journal Josh had left behind as well.

It made you think he had fled in a hurry but it left you with hope that he would return for it. And you, maybe.

The room that had once brought you so much comfort, like the boy it belonged to, now felt cold and foreign. But that didn't stop you from trying to find something familiar in his absence. It became like your greenhouse. You retreated to it, snuggled up in the covers like they could warm you, hid amongst the books and art and evidence of his previous lives like you could melt into it all, now yourself a relic of one of his previous lives.

That’s what worried you, that you now belonged on a shelf rather than out in the open, something he could revisit only when he took you down and dusted you off. But despite everything, you weren’t ready to be shelved.

"For what I said to you about Josh.” You'd almost forgotten Jake was there. “Well, and about Sam," he added.

You weren't even mad about the conversation. Actually, you'd hardly thought about the entire encounter. The gravity of your jealousy paled in comparison now when faced with the thought of how Josh would be when he returned. If he returned.

"I deserved it. I can't just do whatever I want and expect there not to be consequences,” you answered softly, thumb inspecting the delicate edge of leather binding worn to the point of flimsiness with patches sewn in where they were needed.

You heard a heavy sigh fall from his lips and shifted where you sat when he suddenly came into view, dipping the mattress of the bed under his weight as he took a seat across from you.

"Well maybe,” he admitted, ”But it was still unfair, especially coming from me."

You met his eyes as silence befell you, those eyes which always seemed to tell some story just beneath the surface. He looked so much like Josh in his quieter moments. Sometimes you swore they were impossible to tell apart other than their difference in style. And sometimes, they bore hardly any resemblance to each other at all.

"Do you know where Josh is?" you asked.

He shook his head.

"No. But he'll be back. I know it."

You could only assume it wasn't a guess on his part and that his twin had either told him as much or he had felt it for himself that Josh was only gone temporarily. Regardless, you trusted it was the truth and gave him a nod, turning your eyes back down to Josh's journal. You couldn’t bring yourself to flip open the pages and pry into his soul. And secretly, you worried what he had written in there about you. But even though it wasn’t your business to read and you certainly didn’t dare look, your fingers clung to its leather binding like it was a physical piece of him, the last one you could hold.

"He's not here and I can feel it. I can feel the loss. It's like something was taken from me but I can't even remember what it was I had."

You hadn’t even cried over his absence yet. You didn’t dare entertain what that might have meant.

Jake said nothing but you could practically feel him inside your body, studying your emotions closely. Maybe holding them up to the light to read them better. To try and understand better. There was a thin line he had been afraid to cross since his twin had left, never pushing or pulling too hard, afraid that thread might snap and cause a rift that couldn’t be mended. Maybe he figured it was better to just remain silent but truthfully, his silence only made you worry more, uncharacteristic as it was. Sam was the quiet one; that you were used to. Not this. All of this felt so wrong.

You let out a long sigh.

"I owe you an apology too," you admitted.

"For ruining my fun the other night?" There was a smile that teased at the corner of his mouth but he didn't dare break into it fully before he was sure you were in the mood to laugh about a moment he likely looked back on with something a little less than pride. Hopefully much less than pride.

And you didn't quite feel the humor over the situation yet. Maybe you would have if Josh had left on a more final note. But for whatever reason, if Jake was willing to smile, your own body was willing to smile too, and it grew on your face before you even had time to stifle it.

"No,” you scoffed lightly, “I'll never be sorry for that.”

Your thumb ran over that worn binding once more before your fingers discarded the book altogether, throwing it to the other side of the bed as you turned your mind toward the relationship you’d had with Jake prior to your turning. The feelings you’d had for him, unadulterated by anything more complicated than lust and natural chemistry.

“We were friends before all of this,” you said as you reminisced. “I guess at the very least we could still be friends now. I did genuinely like you."

The smile at his lips widened into something much more sincere, no humor or mischief in sight.

"I did genuinely like you, too."

It sounded like a promise when he said it, a promise that he still did like you and still would like you. Hopefully no matter what mess you inevitably made.

After a quiet moment, he slapped his palms flat over his knees and worked up some friction on the material, physically working himself up to ask the question on his mind that had led him into the house to come and find you in the first place.

"Can I take you somewhere?” he asked with a heavy inhale. “Feels like Sam gets to have all the fun these days."

You gave him an easy smile back, just as sincere as the one he had given you.

"Yes, you can take me somewhere."

—

You felt almost crazy for having agreed to it but there you were, zipped into a tight black dress in the passenger seat of Jake's car, your companion dressed in a matching black outfit, complete with cotton pants, velvet vest to leave his chest exposed, and a worn blazer that he had haphazardly rolled the sleeves of up to his forearms. It was quite the pair the two of you made when you weren't fighting. Or worse, lusting after one another.

“You gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked from the low bucket seat as the dark sedan sped through the fog-filled forest on the only road that led toward civilization.

“I bet Sam never spoils the fun before you get there.” He gave you a smile that you didn’t dare question the meaning of, his brother’s name falling from his lips almost like a taunt.

“Sam only takes me hunting,” you said, ignoring whatever deeper meaning there might have been in favor of the view just beyond the passenger window.

“Could have fooled me,” Jake quipped.

This time, it did earn a look from you.

“Okay, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Don’t tell me you’re the jealous one now.”

“Always been me, baby,” he grinned.

He had a habit of saying things in such a way that made you question his sincerity. This one was certainly no different and you studied his profile carefully, looking for any hints he would give you. It would be a true reveal to know that the boy who had taunted you and teased you almost to the point of breaking had only done it because he felt the exact same jealousy you did.

The damn beautiful boy. He was cryptic in a manner entirely different from Sam, and he was always so pleased with himself, too. You understood it to an extent. If you were as pretty and as gifted, you might have been just as insufferable.

“I’ve got a question,” you changed the subject. Sam wasn’t one for answering your questions but Jake was much easier to corner. “And you have to actually answer it. No half-assed, vague responses. I need a real answer to this one.”

He chuckled at your thoroughness, knowing without even asking that it was a product of your time spent with Sam who never shared more than he absolutely needed to. Sometimes not even that much.

He sent a smile your way from the driver’s seat. “Got me nervous over here.”

“What rule did you break?”

You watched as his face went serious at your suddenness. It was a look you hadn't seen him wear, one of worry and bleak reminiscence. And suddenly, you found yourself worried alongside him.

“I’m not supposed to turn people,” he answered directly.

It might have been the first time he hadn’t padded a subject with his personality.

“But Danny turned Adele. I don’t see what the difference is-”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m not supposed to turn anyone.”

You sat almost stunned for a moment before you asked. “Explain.”

You could see his jaw clench and unclench just below the surface of his skin, marking his frustration alongside the shake of his head. He seemed reluctant to tell you.

“I um…” he cleared his throat, “I didn’t exactly use much judgment with the last person I turned…”

“That counts as vague,” you scolded him as you studied him hard. “Try again.”

“Awfully pushy tonight, baby,” he quipped. It was evident he was hoping to dissuade your interest. But seeing as it involved you and the person destiny had chosen for you, you didn't feel much dissuasion.

“Surely I have a right to know.”

If it wasn't so troubling, you might have found it endearing the way he chewed nervously on his lip and squeezed his hands a little tighter around the steering wheel.

“When you asked if there had been anyone for me…”

You recalled the conversation. It was a night you'd remember in its entirety until the day you actually did die.

“You said she was evil.”

“Yeah, well, I kind of helped make her that way. Turns out, the forces that be don’t really look kindly on vampires turning people who then become…something else entirely.”

Something else entirely. You were suddenly worried that she was more like you than you had even considered.

“If I had been more careful, I would have realized that she was immune to my abilities,” he continued, eyes fixed to the road unwaveringly. “I would have seen it and I wouldn’t have ever turned her if I had known. It was exactly what she wanted.”

“But she is a vampire, isn’t she?” you pressed.

“Yes and no. She was dabbling in ancient stuff you’re not supposed to dabble in unless you want to put a target on your back. Someone was helping her, I think. I don’t know. She needed to be turned for the immortality and once I did it, that was that.”

“What kind of ancient stuff? Like rituals? Like…like witch stuff?”

“Probably not what you’re thinking of but yeah, essentially. She never meant to become just a vampire; she meant to become something much stronger and I was the last piece of the puzzle. You can imagine how the high council felt about that.”

“They barred you from turning anyone over it?”

“She took out several dozen covens before disappearing. The council can’t just let that go without consequences.”

“Why didn’t they just punish her instead?”

“They couldn’t find her. I don’t think they even know where she is to this day.”

It was ridiculous, the jealousy that worked its way into your being at the thought of Jake being so distracted by whatever it was this woman had been doing that he hadn't seen her for what she truly was. You wanted to shake your head and scowl at men entirely for it. But the consequences of the decision had surely left Jake with a bit more care and suddenly it made sense why he relied on his gifts so heavily now, always searching and inciting and encouraging. You just hadn't considered the fact that it might have been in part to protect himself.

“So what happens now that you’ve broken the rules?”

“Danny hasn’t seen anything from the council yet. Seems like they don’t know.”

“And what happens if they find out?”

“I guess we'll deal with it.”

You weren't sure what to think. You didn't understand the high council and their rules well enough to let that determine how worried you should be. But Danny hadn't seen anything yet and surely if he did, it would give you time to prepare. What that meant given these circumstances, you had no idea. You only hoped that if the time did come, you'd be able to control your anger. Maybe you hadn't given yourself over to Jake so easily, but the thought of him being in trouble wasn't one you liked. And the longer you dwelled on it, the more your body sizzled with protectiveness. You didn’t intend to lose anyone else.

You hadn't been paying much attention to the road but when the car came to a halt in a dimly lit parking lot next to a building radiating the steady beat of a loud DJ from inside, you suddenly found yourself forgetting the topic of conversation, your attention diverted to the club that Jake looked far too excited about.

He was becoming an expert at distracting you.

"Jake…" You glanced at him nervously, making a point to let that feeling shine through your body like a bright light so he could see just how on the fence you were. You didn’t need to give the high council any more reason to care about your actions.

"What's the matter, baby?"

He met your eyes with a warmth that could have eased your nerves all on its own. Fuck, it was getting harder to resist him. He didn't even have to touch you now; the want you felt for him tunneled deep into your bones. It was becoming a part of you, as much as you hated to admit it.

"I won't be able to control myself.”

You wondered if he understood the many ways in which you meant it.

"You think I'm going to let you do something you'll regret?” He reached across the center console with the car now parked to take your hand in his, letting his thumb swipe over the veins protruding from your skin only once as he lifted his eyes back to yours. “You can't lose it with me."

It conflicted you. On the one hand, it was freeing to know you were always safe around him. You'd never hurt anyone as long as he was there. On the other, you hated feeling like a child with the safety locks on. It was a different type of freedom you longed for, one that only seemed to exist now when you were around Sam.

Regardless, the present situation called for more than just child safety locks. You knew what it was you were doing. And you knew just how stupid it was, too. Surrounding yourself with intoxicated, beating hearts, warmed with blood that was just begging to be downed. You knew exactly what could go wrong.

Nevertheless, you followed Jake out of the car and into the club.

The smell hit you like a ton of bricks the moment you entered the building. Instinctively, you reached a hand out to grip Jake's as he pushed through the crowd in front of you. He gave you a tight squeeze back, like a promise to keep you on your best behavior. But it would be a challenge, that much was clear. The way the eyes followed him as he walked, gazing after him, lusting after him, you were ready to drain everyone inside the building simply for being there. If the bloodlust didn’t get you first, it would be the anger.

And then there was the music, piercing your overly-sensitive ears as it rang out above the crowd which seemed to move like a heartbeat with it. Maybe if you could loosen up a bit, you could see yourself enjoying the atmosphere. But all you saw was a sea of temptation.

Jake dragged you into the center of it all, his hand still firmly wrapped around your wrist when you reached the middle of the dance floor. There was hardly enough room to breathe and each time a club-goer bumped into you, you felt their pulse digging into your skin. But Jake never matched your worry.

“Hey, don't fight it. I've got you,” he insisted, leaning down so he could speak close to your ear.

You gave him a hesitant nod that he took with enthusiasm, a wide smile working its way onto his lips.

“Pick one,” he said as he leaned in again. “They’re all fairly drunk.”

You turned your focus toward studying the club-goers that surrounded you, trying to absorb anything about them other than how good they smelled. Girls wearing tall stilettos despite knowing how much alcohol they'd down, guys wearing anything they thought would get someone's attention, silver chains, too much cologne. You spotted her amongst the crowd, a short blonde woman wearing a staunch white bandage dress that would have fit right into the nightlife scene a decade ago. She was gorgeous but you knew what the appeal was. You wanted to see her dress stained red as you drained her of every last drop she had to offer.

Thank God Sam wasn't there to hear your thoughts.

You pointed her out with a quick nod in her direction and after Jake followed your gaze, he met you with disapproval, shaking his head.

“White dress is a little risky, don't you think?”

“You told me I could pick,” you argued back.

He was onto you, you could see it in his eyes. You'd looked at her with a little too much eagerness. But with another flickering gaze between the two of you and most likely a thought back to how he had insisted he was the cool brother, he finally nodded.

She was perfect for him, anyway, exactly the type of girl he had gone for a million times in the past. Exactly the type of girl you could picture tiptoeing through the backyard back to the street from where she had come with her heels in her hand and her body littered with bite marks from a night she would remember fondly every time the muscles in her legs ached or she sat in some discomfort.

God, you really had to stop torturing yourself.

“She’s all yours,” he conceded just before grabbing your wrist harshly and pulling you back into him before you could turn away. “Just don’t make any messes, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You didn't even dignify it with an answer. You didn't care for his condescension, even though it turned you on. So instead of arguing back or, even worse, letting him see the fluster on your face at his tone, you rolled your eyes and pulled out of his grasp, giving him nothing but an annoyed smirk before you turned back toward the woman you had picked.

You fought your way through the crowd to her but as you approached, you realized you had no idea what to say or what to do. Jake must have felt your hesitation too, because suddenly, as you pushed your way through the only remaining people blocking your path, he was already behind her, swiping her long blonde hair off her shoulder and dipping down to whisper something into her ear that you could barely hear over the sounds of, well, everything else bombarding your poor ears.

“You don’t mind, do you sweetheart?”

You weren't even certain he'd used his gifts on her yet and she was already staring up at him like he was the only thing that existed in this world.

It made your blood boil.

She turned toward you with excitement in her eyes. “No, not at all!” she squealed.

He gave you an expectant look as he wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her back flush with his chest, and once again moved her hair out of the way with gentle fingers. You could practically hear the shiver they sent up her spine when she felt his cold touch graze along her skin.

He was doing it on purpose, you were almost sure of it.

With her neck exposed, you could see the desire flaring behind his eyes, even as he fixed them to you.

“I'll get it started for you,” he smirked, and then he sank his fangs down into her neck.

From the perspective of the other club patrons, it would look like the two were caught in a moment of passion while they danced. And you knew better than to think the passion didn't exist. Jake never really did anything without passion and if the soft moans he elicited out of her told you anything, it was that she felt that passion too.

It put an immediate flair into your face, heat rushing up through your body. You were jealous just watching the sight, wishing it were you under his fangs instead. You didn't give a shit about the bloodlust, this was real lust, and it overtook your body like it owned you.

“Thought you said she was all mine,” you muttered under your breath as you watched.

He cut his feeding short to meet your eyes again, gesturing you forward with a single finger as he licked the blood off his teeth.

When you were only a step away, he reached forward, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling your face in to meet the woman's neck, your teeth sinking into the puncture wounds he had already so kindly created for you.

It was like all of those other times you drank human blood. Every other thought went out the window. But this time, it was an even more dangerous taste, one sweetened with enough alcohol to get you drunk quickly if you were to keep up the pace you preferred.

Your meal was sandwiched snugly between you and Jake, moaning softly against the air without care for if other people heard. Not that they would; the DJ made sure of that. But whatever Jake himself was feeding her must have been good because as you sucked harder against her vein, he increased whatever dose of pleasure he was giving her and her body reacted, practically falling into yours.

You used your arms to hold her upright, one around her waist and the other holding the back of her head, keeping her hair out of the way as she slumped over your shoulder. Right where you wanted her to finish her off. But the moment Jake felt her strength begin to falter, he stopped you with a strong hand gripping your hair to pull your face back.

She was shoved away in an instant, blissfully unaware as she moved her hair back over the bite and continued dancing with her peers, likely given some jolt of energy to keep her lucid and standing upright thanks to Jake. But he had pulled you into him, into the space she had just occupied as his lips, parted and panting, ghosted over the thin trail of blood carved into the corner of your mouth from a single drop of the stuff.

“Easy,” he hissed, drawing out the word and showcasing the desire flaring through his chest, “we’re not draining anyone tonight.”

God, it seemed almost more humane to kill them than to just send them on their merry way. What would she think of the bite in the morning?

“Well, if it helps, I think I was the only one draining her,” you argued back a bit breathlessly for your taste. “You were the one trying to give her an orgasm in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like one? Is that the issue here, my little dracula is deprived?”

You fought through the swell of desire it incited to narrow your eyes at him.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

But it was no use. He had already felt it and had already plastered that damn smirk to his lips again, letting your hair go as he resumed his scouting about the room.

“I’m picking the next one.”

You had been right to be afraid of who he would pick when he chose a thin, model-like brunette from the crowd that closely resembled Adele if you were being honest. Another woman you could picture going home with him. Actually, there weren’t many women you could picture turning him down for a night of passion.

You grimaced at the choice but it didn’t seem to bother him. And why would it when you were giving him exactly the reaction he wanted?

He beckoned her over to him with nothing but a pointed look with dark eyes. She never even glanced in your direction when she stood in front of him.

“You shouldn’t be dancing all alone,” she said with a sultry smile.

“He’s not,” you mumbled, a sentiment only Jake seemed to hear.

“Would you like to keep me company?” he asked the woman.

You were quickly warming to the idea of killing him if he really was so intent on not letting you kill a human.

“Oh, I’d be more than happy to,” she answered.

This time, he didn’t go straight for her neck but rather went for her lips, pulling her into a kiss. And the only indication that he had broken skin was the sudden smell of blood more potent than that sitting nestled inside of a vein wafting into the air.

And it cracked your resolve.

It happened in a flash. You bore your eyes into the back of her head ready to crumble her from the inside out. But just as quickly, she had lost interest and Jake was suddenly there with his body pressed against yours and his hands shackling your wrists.

"Careful there, dracula, we don't need to do all that," he whispered.

You felt it then, that familiar need that was reserved for him. But this time, you knew you weren’t strong enough to hold out. There would be no stopping him or denying him. You’d make him pay for his actions some other night. But for now, you couldn’t get him alone fast enough.

"Fuck,” his eyes rolled back when he said it, “I love feeling what you feel."

"Jake." You said his name with some urgency behind it.

"Way ahead of you, baby."

Without another word, his hand found yours and he led you quickly through the crowd, back the way you had come.

His lips were on yours the moment your back made contact with his sedan where it was parked amongst abandoned cars, impassioned and intoxicated on more than just the blood and alcohol you had consumed. He pulled the door open quickly, pushing you inside until your back hit the cloth of his backseat and climbing on top of you just as fast.

He connected himself to you again almost instantly, pushing his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss and explore that need that now plagued you both.

He settled between your thighs like he belonged there, fingers working as quickly as they could to pull your panties down around your ankles and slip your feet through them. Free of the stretch of the thin material binding your legs, you hiked your knees up high around his hips, using your thighs to hold his body against you.

His mouth was hungry, moving against yours and muffling the sounds that rose up and out of his chest. But it was the ice of his tongue that chilled you as he used it to explore your mouth and then your skin, pulling away to drag his lips down your neck and over the parts of your chest that were exposed to him. You could already feel the involuntary lift of your hips as his body moved lower, his hands keeping your thighs raised where they were and effectively spreading you out beneath him.

An expanse of fresh canvas for him to work with. That was how your body felt. And he could feel how badly you wanted him to paint you. But Jake was a tease. If you knew nothing else about him, you knew that.

When he shifted his weight backward into the door that confined him near your legs, he did nothing more than ghost his lips over your skin, trailing along your exposed thigh, over the inside of your knee, and down your calf until he was pressing a light kiss to your ankle. And to your dismay, you rewarded his action with a light gasp for air that you didn't need, startled by how cold but soft his touch was on your skin that was surely hot by now.

“You're not seriously going to tease me after all this time in a fucking parking lot,” you huffed in exasperation beneath him.

It prompted a beautifully smug smile to grow across his face.

“You don't want to be teased?” he asked, knowing fully well the answer to his question.

“No, I don't.” It sounded much more like a plea than you had meant it, complete with wriggling hips and half-lidded eyes as desperation took hold of you, setting fire to your skin and every nerve that lay beneath.

He smiled to himself again, dipping down to kiss the inside of your knee and only ever letting his fangs graze skin. “Well then tell me what it is you do want, my little dracula.”

You knew exactly what you wanted. You had wanted it from the moment you learned it was something that could be had, something that could be done to a person.

"I want to feel your gifts. I want you to do what you did to that woman the first time I walked in on you."

Why you were suddenly nervous as his eyes fixed to yours, you had no idea. You knew he would heed your request. In fact, you knew it was all he had wanted to do for probably longer than you realized. But now it was the anticipation that was killing you, knowing that when it came, it would be sudden and there would be no return. You'd be sealing your fate to permanently want him.

He cocked his brow like it was a scandalous request, but he settled down onto his forearm and pressed his lips to your inner thigh once more.

“Well…since you asked so nicely.”

All it took was his eyes on yours again and he was suddenly sending your body twisting through a mind-shattering orgasm that built up strongly from your toes, knotted the muscles in your pelvis, and arched your back hard off the seats beneath you.

If you had screamed his name any louder, you felt certain the entire club might have heard it. But you were well past the point of caring about volume or anyone seeing the two of you as a matter of fact. You were lost in the sea of pleasure that Jake was guiding you through, and not very gently at that. It rocked through you again and again until you felt moisture building in your eyes and a wet release between your legs.

"Oh my god-" you gasped, your hand flying out to the seat next to you in an attempt to steady yourself. Not that it was much use. You remembered the woman you had seen him do this to last. Just as lost as she had been, you now found yourself. Only this time, he didn't stop with his gifts.

In the midst of it all, you felt two of his fingers push inside of you, curling until he could feel what you could, that he had found the right spot. And it rendered you utterly speechless.

You could tell it was just as strong for him too, his eyes winding shut and his jaw clenching impossibly hard as his fingers worked. It was almost like he was working himself through the feeling as well, that feeling that he only felt through you. And just as hard as you had been pushed off that ledge, he fought to not fall after you.

"Fuck, Jake, yes, yes, yes…" It was closer to a chant as tears streamed more steadily from your eyes. You didn't want it to end but it was quickly overpowering your body, sending shockwave after shockwave straight to numb your mind and unfocus your senses.

He moved his body parallel with yours, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while he allowed himself a moment to truly feel it alongside you.

"Shit" he mumbled into your skin.

You could feel the sweat on his forehead as he exerted himself in more ways than one. And finally, after a symphony of pleasure competing to take over your body, he brought you down slowly with his mind, easing you back into your physical form against the seats of his car.

It didn't take you long to regain your ability to move and contemplate your continued desire.

“I need more,” you whispered urgently, undoing his jeans and feeling his painfully hard cock so close beneath.

But his hands were quick to stop you despite the look in his eyes that seemed to scold himself for ever doing such a thing.

“I don’t want our first time to be in a car,” he answered.

It caught you off guard to say the least.

“I didn’t realize you were so picky,” you huffed, equally romanced by the notion and frustrated by the fact that you'd have to wait for his cock.

He couldn't help but smile.

“It just doesn’t feel right. Especially not given how it was my driving that got you killed.”

“Yeah, your driving that brought me to you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, just…drive fast?” This time when it sounded like a plea, you didn't feel any shame. You meant it as one.

He leaned down again, deliberately rocking his pelvis into yours still bare to him so you could feel how mouthwateringly hard he was. He brought his lips to yours and kissed you achingly slowly, thoroughly passionately. And then he pulled away altogether.

“And what if I drive slow?”

“J-Jake please.” Your resolve was slipping and you knew if he didn't drive fast, you'd be pleading with him to pull the car over to finish what he had started right there on the side of the road.

With a smirk, he lowered his face back down to yours, practically touching the tip of his nose to yours as he spoke.

“I will drive fast but don’t expect me to make quick work of you when we get there. So I’d suggest you ride this high because it’s the last one you’re going to get for a while.”

Always such a tease.

—

Jake had kept his promise of driving fast and before you knew it, you were following him giggling, hand-in-hand through the garage, around the house, and across the lawn of the backyard toward his den of debauchery.

But it was the sight of Sam in the greenhouse that stopped you in your tracks, the urgency of how badly you wanted Jake almost fully depleted from your body the moment his eyes caught yours through the hazy glass walls.

Even from far away, you could see it: the upset on his face.

"Give me a second," you whispered to Jake.

He glanced over to the greenhouse and back at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

"You know where to find me."

When you entered, Sam was holding a golden watering can making rounds to all of the plants despite their already wet soil. Maybe it was just an excuse to be there when you got back. But he was clearly now avoiding looking at you.

"I've been watering them," you explained to his back.

"Having fun with Jake?" He never even turned to face you but you could hear something like jealousy on his tongue and in his tone. And it immediately made you feel guilty for the time you had spent with Jake and the want you had expressed for him.

"Sam, I don't want to do this tonight," you admitted somewhat sheepishly as you circled your wrists with your fingers and chewed on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from getting angry with the one person you didn’t want to get angry with that night.

"He's waiting for you," was all he said as he continued on his path of watering plants that didn't need it.

You could feel your frustration reach a new height, your fingernails digging into your skin to stop yourself from doing something you'd regret.

"I had a good night,” you insisted instead. “The first one in a while. No anxiety, no anger-well a tiny bit of anger-"

"Then why let me ruin it?" he shrugged nonchalantly, his demeanor colder than it had been in a while. You felt the chill of it even from across the greenhouse.

“That’s not fair, Sam,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He sighed back and you watched as his shoulders fell and the watering can dropped onto the table next to him. You could see the tension in his back, tension that probably mimicked itself on his face were he to turn and bare himself to you. He knew he was being unfair, even without you saying it or thinking it. You both knew it. And you had never really seen him lose control the way you were prone to, but there amongst the plants that he had grown for you without even knowing it, under a backdrop of golden stars he had made for you and lights he had strung for you, you watched him collect himself with all of the strength his body could muster under your eyes.

“Yeah, well, take it from me,” he said quietly, “we don’t always get what we want.”

You could tell it wasn't what he wanted to say but you couldn't help but hear the truth that rang through it, the truth that spoke to both of you, that you both understood so inherently well.

No, we don’t.

At the mere utterance of the thought swirling around in your head, Sam finally turned to face you and you saw his eyes rimmed with an angry red.

"But this is what you want, isn't it?" he questioned, seeming almost desperate now as his eyes failed to hide his feelings from you.

And suddenly, you weren't sure exactly what it was you wanted. You had thought all this time that you wanted Josh. Had even begun to do more than simply entertain the idea of wanting Jake. But now nothing seemed clear. Nothing felt easy.

"I don't know…” you tried. “I think I do…I have fun with Jake."

It was a feeble attempt and one that Sam saw through, the thinness of it bubbling up his own frustration.

"So why are you keeping him waiting?"

Your brows furrowed inward and you felt the lump grow in your throat. You were almost constantly on the verge of tears now, it seemed. They came out of nowhere sometimes, even when the moment didn't call for it or when you pleaded with your body to remain calm. But now you knew why they had come. You understood what those tears wanted from you, why they begged to be released.

"Adele said you don't believe in the tie," you said, your voice strained as you fought to keep it even.

"I'm not sure what this has to do with me."

Even he looked unconvinced of what he had just said.

You walked toward him slowly, staring him squarely in the face while your emotions creased your forehead. And when you were only a step away, you faced his lie.

"I think you know what this has to do with you,” you whispered. "What would have happened if it had been you that turned me?"

He shook his head quickly, retreating a step. "It never would have been me."

"How do you know that?" you pressed.

"I wouldn't have done it."

You felt the tears bead at your eyes and roll heavy down your cheeks, freezing lines left in their wake.

You gave him a singular nod, as stoic as you could manage. "Right. You would have let me die."

But as you turned to leave him behind, he caught your wrist, simultaneously pulling you into him as he moved you both so your back fit snugly against one of the many glass walls reflecting stars around you. And he leaned his face close to yours to speak, hushed but urgent.

"Why do you insist on asking all of these little questions that don't matter in the end? What good does it do for me to tell you that I would never have been as selfish as Jake? I never would have condemned you to this life, not knowing how strong you would be and how much you'd struggle-"

"And here I thought you were proud of me."

His face changed at your words, his brows dragging down at the inner corners in confusion that matched the glassiness of his eyes.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he asked incredulously.

You could have burst forth with anger. It could have propelled you across the room if you weren't careful.

"No. I don't,” you met him with just as much urgency as he had you, your hands pushing him off of you even though they begged you to let them cling to him. “You never actually tell me anything. You never take me anywhere besides hunting. You never show me any part of you that you haven't curated or don't want me to see. You see the worst of me, Sam, and I still have no idea why you put up with me! Or what you tell the others for that matter!"

He looked almost wounded, standing there where you had shoved him, trying to understand. "Is that what you want? You want me to tell them about the worst thoughts you've had? You want me to tell them how good you feel when you kill and confirm Jake's fears that you won't be able to live without him managing your emotions for you?"

You felt your body run as cold as it was to the touch as his words sunk in. They practically leapt at you, strangling you where you stood. All of those moments with Jake where he had promised you need only ask for his gifts, he would never inflict them upon you unwillingly. It felt like a lie, like some sick ploy to get you to trust him for his own safety, maybe even for all of their safety. And suddenly, you could hardly swallow. You could hardly even speak.

"He thinks that?" Your voice was a mere squeak among the silence.

"I don't tell you everything because there's no reason you should have to carry it all around. Have you ever considered that I’m trying to do you a favor?"

"Do you think that?" you asked feebly, ignoring whatever he had said last.

He met you where you stood once again, braving your vesuvian temper to do what he did best: reassure you with his hands.

"Of course I don't think that,” he said, squeezing your biceps between his palms and fingers. “That's why I tell them it's going well. You don’t need their judgment, you just need time."

But there was nothing he could say. There was no touch that could undo what had been done. The pieces, one by one, were clicking together and they dared not be torn apart. Josh had already said it himself: Jake could control you better than the rest of them. He had practically shoved you into Jake's arms.

"Josh thinks it too, doesn't he? Or thought it, before he left."

If it hadn't been for the super hearing, Sam might not have heard you. Your lips moved, sure, but the sound barely pushed itself out of your throat. And even so, he dropped his hands and met you with real silence, the kind that was deafening. The kind that made you want to scream and hit him and fling yourself at him and make him feel all the pain in the world for choosing that moment to bite his tongue.

But instead of violence, you clenched your teeth hard. You wanted to hear him say it. And you wanted him to look you in the eyes while he did.

"That must mean he thinks it's for the best I wasn't his."

He knew the question you were asking without actually asking it and you could see the defeat already caving in his posture, making him appear smaller without even trying as he shrank in front of you. His face lost any warmth it might have had, hardened by what you were asking of him. But after a long moment of thought, he finally spoke, reluctantly.

"Well if you're really so intent on torturing yourself, yes,” he answered slowly but deliberately. “The thought crossed his mind. He left hoping you’d run to Jake a little quicker than you have."

You swore you could see the walls of the greenhouse around you cracking and splintering, threatening to tumble down around you along with the rest of the world.

"He gave up on me," you gasped to yourself.

"He did what he thought was best. What he thought was safest for all of us."

You were only somewhat aware of Jake appearing somewhere in the doorway of the greenhouse, looking ready to do whatever he needed should the situation erupt. But it wasn't Sam you were angry with. It was yourself. You had clung so hard to the thing you had wanted that you hadn't even realized he had left you.

"You're right, I was better off not knowing that," you whispered with quivering chin and chattering teeth as the tears found their cadence streaming down your face.

Sam only gave the smallest of glances toward his brother but you watched as his face changed when his eyes flickered back to you, having been silently reprimanded by the one who would have to clean up the aftermath and pick up your pieces to glue them back together again.

"I'm a dick, I know, that wasn't-I shouldn't have-"

He fumbled hopelessly, his eyes pleading with you the way they sometimes did when you threatened to disappear from him altogether out there in the woods with blood on your mind and on your tongue. But this time, you didn't see it. You didn't hear the plea.

You felt the first wave as it pushed up your throat, clawing and scratching and writhing to get out. And before you knew it, you were collapsing to the ground from the force of your heart tearing in two, a mangled sob at your throat and eyes clouded with tears, shielding you from seeing anything beyond yourself.

You were fairly certain it was Jake's arms that encircled you after only a split second on the ground, holding you into him as sobs racked your body and burned into your chest.

"It's alright,” he whispered as he held you. “I've got you. I've got you."

When your throat was finally raw from crying and your eyes ran dry of moisture, you'd wonder where Sam went while it happened, if his brother had told him he'd done enough. And you'd wonder if he really had.

—

The next time you saw Sam, you had your fingers wrapped around Jake's whiskey bottle, nursing it in the greenhouse alone. Jake had gone on a hunt, had practically begged you to come with him, but you'd chosen your misery over food for the twentieth day in a row. If it had even been that long.

“Come on,” was all he said as he stood in the doorway.

“Not hungry,” you answered back, not even meeting his eyes as you sipped the dark liquor.

“Not taking you on a hunt.”

You peered up to stare at his face, awaiting an explanation, but when he gave you none as he usually did, you found yourself groaning like a child.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Sam.”

You were aware of how pathetic it sounded, even given your most recent discoveries of your failed relationship. Even so, you never were one to handle breakups well and your vampire emotions only exacerbated that which already had taken a heavy toll on you. Although Sam didn't seem too sympathetic.

“Suck it up.”

You gave him an angry sound as you reluctantly stood, knowing he would be much more forceful than Jake when it came to making you do things you didn't want to do. He had an air of protectiveness to him that suggested he thought he knew what was good for you at any given moment. He was usually right although you'd never dare speak that into existence. You hated even thinking it.

“Such a toddler,” he mumbled as he led you to the garage, holding the door open to his coupe to let you situate yourself in the passenger seat.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked, almost in a whine that you knew would do well to annoy him.

It got the eye roll you knew it would. You sometimes wondered if you gave him headaches.

“No questions until we get there.”

When the car was finally put into park after a near silent ride, you found yourself dizzyingly high on a seaside cliff overlooking a world of ocean that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

The sea looked angry where it raged and rapped against the rocks down at the base of the cliff, the drizzle of rain no match for the angry waters down below.

“What are we doing here?” you asked as you peered over the edge. You knew a fall from where you stood wouldn't damage your body the way it might have as a human but still, you were conscious of where the cliff ended.

“Ever been cliff jumping?” Sam asked.

When you met his eyes to question his sanity, you saw a smile on his face, genuine and warm. It was unlike anything you'd ever seen. It lit up his eyes to the point of twinkling. And with it plastered to his lips, he almost looked free of the heaviness that he usually carried.

"You're not worried someone will see us?"

It wasn't really the onlookers you were worried about, especially seeing as there was not a single soul around and the water was in no spirit to be kind to humans, raging war against sharp rocks down below. But it was the cliff you were worried about, metaphorical more than physical. You'd fling your physical body off that cliff alongside Sam without problem. But now that things felt more final with Josh, you wondered just how much of yourself you would be throwing off that cliff with his brother attached.

"No, I'm not,” Sam shook his head with a daring look in his eyes that resembled one you'd seen Jake wear, well, every time he was around. “People never come up here when the weather is like this."

Sam was already undressing even as he spoke, pulling off his thin purple sweater and baggy joggers and leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs hugging tight around his hips and thighs. But when he noticed your hesitation, and lack of undressing yourself, he threw his arms out to his sides.

"Come on, quit worrying. It'll be fun."

You felt the smile grow on your face without even a thought behind it.

"Didn't know you liked fun," you teased, finally giving in and eagerly working off your leggings and sweatshirt.

Your eyes had scanned over his body, undoubtedly. You hadn't seen that toned chest since the day you met him. Hadn't seen the muscles in his thighs up close ever. But you were careful when you'd snuck your glance, knowing that if it formed even so much as a tiny tangible thought in your mind, it would give you away. Sam, on the other hand, had the privacy of his mind but his eyes were far less careful. They were slow in their movements, working down over your curves as you stood there in nothing but bra and underwear, your skin practically freezing the water droplets as they hit their obstacle along their path from the sky down to the ground.

It was that gaze that seemed to heat up every inch of your frozen body as he shifted his eyes around to study the lines and divots and freckles adorning your skin. He could have lit you on fire with just his eyes alone.

Maybe Jake was right. Maybe you were deprived.

If you had been feeding, it would have been over for you right then. But you were a little more measured when blood wasn't involved. So instead, when you bit your lip and narrowed your eyes at his shamelessness, it wasn't entirely due to the fluster you could feel brewing.

"Hey, control your thoughts," you teased with a pleased smirk before diving head first off the cliff with a running start.

You heard him call from behind you as your body plummeted down to the waters still waging war over rock. "Fuck, you were supposed to wait for me!"

You broke through the water in a thin line, barely a splash being made through the existing turbulence. You heard Sam's body enter the water soon after though you couldn't see him. All you could see before you was darkness. But it was a sea of calm beneath the turbulent blankets at the top. It was almost warm, too, how it engulfed your body and held you there in its peaceful clutches.

Your body floated downward with ease, a slow drag pulling you further under. But with no need to breathe, you didn't fight it. Instead, you let the water claim you. And under the inevitability of the water plundering you down, you felt the same sense of calm that surrounded you flood your body, like it could ease the imaginary ache in your joints and your emotional wounds all the same. Josh was gone. He had left you behind. But there, suddenly, it didn’t hurt so badly.

It was a strong hand wrapping around your bicep and yanking you up through the warmth of the water that evaporated the peaceful coexistence you'd found beneath the surface. That hand, belonging to Sam, yanked you to air and revealed a soaked Sam bobbing along the surface of the water, careful to not let the crashing waves pass over his head.

"I had it!" you called to him over the din of the waves.

"You were sinking like a fucking rock!" he called back, his hand only letting you go when he felt sure you were treading water.

It seemed like an odd display of protectiveness. You couldn't drown. Water couldn't take you away from him. But still, he seemed to watch you with caution.

"I had it," you argued again with a splash of water sent his direction that he dodged with a smile.

The sound of a wave, larger than the others that had passed, rumbling nearby caught both of your attention. Sam's gaze followed your own over his shoulder where you watched a wall of water eight feet high barrel along the surface of the ocean, threatening to beat you both against the rocks at your backs.

With a wave over to you, Sam hurriedly signaled you toward him. You cut through the current easily and when your body found his in the water, your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist and his hands found their own home wrapped beneath the rounds of your thighs.

He inhaled a needless gulp, heaving his chest out and causing you to giggle as he silently told you what he planned to do. And with a single nod of your head, he plunged you both down into the water before the wave broke in the space that your bodies once occupied.

Beneath the water, your bodies broke apart in the silence, remaining close but tethered only by the water pushing you along with its current.

It was once again dark under the water but this time, as you hung suspended the way you were stuck in time, you had a perfect view of Sam with a wall of dark, murky ocean at his back. He floated across from you, staring back and letting the water move you both in an almost dance with one another, close but never touching.

And in that silence, you stole your glances more freely. You let your eyes trail over the hard lines of his body without shame, taking him in in a way you hadn't. It didn't feel like those times you found yourself alone together in the woods. It felt much more like he was the only other person that existed in your world, removed of the bloodlust and the lack of control. He was beautiful in a way that you didn't quite understand yourself, in a way that went deeper than just his body. He was gentle and caring, had taken on the role of teacher and never once judged you for the things you thought. He saw you, understood you, wasn't always easy with his words but was always patient with you. And it was there beneath the waves that it dawned on you: you wanted every part of him. Not the way you wanted Jake, either.

His arm swooshed smoothly through the water, almost in slow motion, catching your wrist and pulling you back to the surface of the water with him.

You followed his strong movements toward a pebbled shore upon which the water splashed much more calmly. With outstretched hand, he led you from the water onto the shore where he dropped his body onto the tiny, smooth rocks with a sigh and fell back to sunbathe beneath the cover of cloud that only let the smallest fractals of light ever bounce off his skin.

The rocks felt cold against your back as you laid next to him but not as cold as the brush of Sam's bicep against your shoulder as you gazed up at the clouds alongside him and resisted the urge to press more of your body to his.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Sam laughed out a sweet sound that instantly burned itself into your brain and made its mark as a sound you'd do anything to hear again.

"You always do, don't you?"

"Has there been anyone since Adele? I mean, I've never even seen or heard another woman over."

It was a topic you hadn't broached, figuring he wouldn't answer anyway. But it was one you had thought about in passing, whenever you'd let your mind wander its way over to the way his hands had roamed your body that day in the woods. They were out of practice, but not without skill.

"A couple of one night stands, never at the house. But other than that, no," he answered honestly.

"You must get lonely. Or at the very least, horny."

"It's not the sex that I miss.” You tried to dispel any thoughts of disappointment you had at the idea of Sam not being interested in sex before he heard. But he continued, “Actually, it isn't really Adele that I miss anymore either."

Oh, you thought to yourself, the realization dawning on you almost instantly and obscuring the fact that he had been so forthcoming for once.

It's Danny you miss.

His silence that followed answered the question you hadn't asked.

"Why don't you fix things between you? Talk to him? I know he wants that."

"Don't try and fix this." He was suddenly more himself again, a little more stern and serious, letting his guard back up.

"He still loves you, Sam," you insisted to no avail, Sam suddenly shifting in the pebbles next to you to put some space between you.

"You don't know anything, you've been around for a whole month. Danny and I were together for centuries."

Even with his visceral reaction, you couldn't help but argue back.

"I just don't understand why you're choosing to give him up when you don't have to."

"You think Josh will ever see Jake the same way again?"

"But it's not Jake's fault."

"It doesn't matter."

"But you hadn't even tied with her-"

"She wanted marriage,” Sam cut you off. “She wanted children. I was never going to damn her to this life. I was prepared to give her a long, happy one with a natural end. And then in an instant, it was all gone.”

You hadn't considered the fact that Sam and Adele hadn't just been casual lovers. They had both wanted more and Sam was ready to give it all to her if he could. It suddenly made you wonder about what Josh had said the last night you'd stayed with him, about not needing the soul tie. Sam hadn't needed it either. He already had what he needed. It broke your heart to think about.

“Soul ties are such bullshit anyway,” he continued. “He didn't choose her, I did. I chose him, too. I chose this life for him and for what?"

It left you suddenly wondering how exactly Sam had become what he now was and he heard the question forming in your mind as you turned your head to study his face.

He sighed a heavy sound, made all the heavier by what you could only assume was a painful memory he had conjured up. He looked resigned when he turned to face you, his hand taking yours and pressing it to his bare chest silently.

The honey brown of his eyes disappeared along with the pebble beach and the raging ocean. And suddenly you stood in an old, stoney house, the floor beneath you dusty and a raging fire going in the corner. It was dim, only lit by the fireplace and a few candles strewn about, but you could see him clearly. Danny sat in the corner, his knees pulled tightly to his chest while he rocked nervously beside himself.

His eyes were puffy and red, like he'd been crying for hours on end. There was dried blood beneath his fingernails and matted into his curls. It covered his thin cotton pants and stained the ballooning material around his wrists. And every now and then, his eyes would glaze over and he would be lost to the world he knew, his head zipping around as he fought imaginary demons, screaming out against the visions that haunted him, uncontrollably.

You squatted low to meet him on the ground, reaching your hand out slowly. Sam was aiming for his knee with his touch, any attempt to soothe him you guessed.

The memory seemed faded around the edges, like it was old and begging to be forgotten, but Danny's voice was clear, like he was actually there, in the flesh, right in front of you.

"Don't touch me!” Danny screamed before your fingers met material. “You cannot touch me! I'm with the devil, I'm possessed, I do not trust myself anymore, Sam." His words were broken by a sob heaving in his chest. "I do not know myself anymore."

And then he was gone again, his eyes clouding once more as he disappeared into some unknown world. Only this time, whatever he saw scared him, and he keeled over to press his forehead into the floor while his hands found cover over his ears.

"Make it stop! I don't want to see it!"

You felt the lump in your throat as you held back your own tears.

The memory suddenly changed and now you found yourself standing in front of the twins, one dressed in brown cotton and the other doused in black. Your eyes caught on Josh's curls first and then made their way over to the sprawling locks of his twin who stood with his foot propped up on a stool and a scowl on his face.

"They should study you, brother," he said with a shake of his head.

He clearly disapproved of whatever Sam had said.

"Why do you want this?" Josh asked from where he sat at what appeared to be a small dining table in the modest home they shared.

Sam hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d used the term ‘centuries’.

There was silence where you assumed Sam had answered and it left you studying their faces closer, trying to get a read on what he might have said.

"You'll be damning yourself to hell alongside him," Josh answered back.

It was followed by more silence on your part, another response from Sam. And you'd have given anything to know what he had said in that moment.

Jake seemed much angrier than Josh had when he responded. "It is thoughtless. You're as rash as they come-"

It must have urged an outburst from Sam because both twins looked suddenly startled. But after a quiet moment, you watched as Josh's face changed, and slowly, he gave a single nod.

Jake, on the other hand, scoffed in stark frustration at his brothers. But it wasn’t exactly disappointment you saw on his face. It was fear.

"You condemn us all," he muttered as he turned away.

The memory evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving you once again staring into the warmth of Sam's eyes. He looked just as hurt as the twins had looked in his memory. You could tell it was one he had lived a thousand times over, one he had forced himself to watch late at night when one of his brothers’ struggled with their abilities, with their hunger. It was a memory he couldn’t let himself forget, forever plagued by the consequences he had set in motion making the choice he had.

"What did you say to them?"

"I told them Danny needed me.” Even with the painful memory at his back, his eyes seemed to soften as you gazed into them, pleading with him to tell you more. “He needed his friend. And if I were to be damned then I would choose to be damned for him. I would always choose him."

The tears were already forming in your eyes, clouding your vision and rolling down your cheeks, when you stumbled across it: the reason Sam was so patient with you. You must have reminded him of Danny. It was why he gave himself to you so fully. He had given himself to Danny that same way.

And in the end, he had lost Danny. It wasn’t hard to see where he assumed this was going, too.

"He doesn't need me now. Not anymore. He has her. But I still think we have some choice in who we love. Who we take with us to the end." His eyes never left yours as he spoke and you could feel the weight of them on you, telling you more than his mouth ever would.

Your chin quivered and your teeth clamped together as you held back the heftier tears. And in your silence, he spoke again.

"I should have told you the other day,” he said softly, “I am proud of you. I am proud of you, exactly the way you are.”

You could feel him in your mind, dancing around with your thoughts. And for once, you felt no shame to have him there, seeing the things you tried to hide from even yourself.

"Can I ask you another question?" you asked in a whisper and with a quiet nod from Sam, you pressed onward. "That memory of Adele that you showed me, you use it to calm down?"

"I did," he answered.

"You have a new one?" you questioned again.

His eyes fell to your lips for the briefest of moments before he answered, just as quietly as you had asked it of him.

"Yes, I do."

He met you halfway, letting your lips meet in the middle of the space that had divided you. But you could feel the hesitation in his hands, working their way across that sea of space to find your body and meld it to his. You could feel the hesitation on his tongue as he parted your lips to deepen the kiss, like he was tasting you for both the first time and the last time. And you could feel the hesitation that must have stolen his mind as he searched yours for any sign of Jake. But when he found none, he was suddenly kissing you back without any hesitation at all.

It wasn't like the blood-covered lust you found with him in the forest. It was a kiss that complicated things, one that made you want to whisper to him to take you somewhere private, away from any prying eyes or ears.

But just as quickly as he had found his certainty, he had lost it again, pulling away from you to rest his forehead against yours and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. He was holding himself back and this time, you understood why without even asking.

Sam had chosen the people in his life and despite how you had been brought into it, you were beginning to believe you had been chosen too. You were beginning to realize he needed you just as much as you needed him, that the life you had found with him in the forest was one he had found too. Every time he left the house with you, every memory he shared, every spoken word he worked hard to say, it was all evidence of him choosing you.

And you couldn't even choose him back.

Taglist: @gvfcinema @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hippievanfleet @crossczeched48 @cassiesgreta @sunfl0wer-power @abby-gvf @joshkiszkasfoot @joshskittytickler @lightsofthe-living-gvf @i-choose-the-road @am-bam @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @themoreyou-love @bumblebeewrites @coolmedown @sacredthesin @jonch-gvf @justdamnpeachy @fallenstar1708 @vanfleeter @laurengvf8 @allybtj @watching-over-hypegirl @hr33gvf @kaitburb @threadofstars @jennasometimesreads @samiiijones @ jakekiszkasmommy @lallisonl @therobynsworld-blog @misshunnybee @sparrowofthedawnsworld @demonrat444 @malany-gvf @myownparadise96 @capturethechaos @st4rdust-ch0rds @montenegroisr @sacredjake @notthedroidz @sinarainbows @kissingthegoat @eraofstardustchords @cherryflo @blacksoul-27 @lyndz2names @earthgrlsreasy @gvfmarge @carlyfleet @thetroublegetssoloud71 @withlovegvf @suzi107 @gracev0609 @objectsinspvce @kissakiszka @amorlizette @stardustcatcher @notsostrangerthing @brokebellsgvf @sweet1squash @imleavingyoufornewyork @lipstickitty @ageofhearingloss @zoe-tally06 @mavvanfleet

#gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka smut #fire in the water #gvf fic #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka fic #jake kiszka fic #danny wagner fic

111 notes · View notes

carlyraejepsans · 7 months

Note

i lowkey disagree w u on ur position on fictional ships and certain portrayals of topics such as incest and pedophilia, but oh my fucking god to have the fucking. AUDACITY to accuse someone of real life pedophila and incest because they MENTIONED being NEUTRAL on a certain topic?? like you didnt even say you think fictional incest is cool and rad or wtvr u afaik (which. even if u did that ask would Still be abhorrent) but ur explicitly Neutral and are VERY carful to tag shit and i just. 1/2

cut for length and also sensitive topics

i cannot fucking imagine accusing someone of such a horrid act with such conviction bc u SLightly DIsagree on a topic. jfc. i block tags and if ur conversations ever drive me over the edge id Unfollow. im so so sorry people are such fucking assholes man. i hope people gain some sense abt these topics im so sorry

yeah no i completely respect your opinion. and i do know where it's coming from. to tell you the truth (basic decency of tagging triggers aside), i DO find most of those fanon portrayals to be cheap and uncalled for a good majority of the time, at least from a literary standpoint. things like dating a minor or your own sibling have serious implications on a character's moral code and interpersonal dynamics where most characters would... not fucking do that! and the moment you don't engage with those implications, it becomes either incredibly ooc or altogether shallow. some people act like a topic being problematic makes it inherently complex and rich, when it can be as tropey and flat as any other "safe" topic. being problematic doesn't make you interesting etc. my point isn't arguing over literary value, it's more like... there's people behaving horribly and cruelly towards the AUTHORS, and making disgusting assumptions like the one that was made against me, all because of fiction you can always filter out at the end of the day (assuming basic tagging etiquette is respected ofc) and like. that's too far. nobody deserves to be treated like this.

not to mention, the "incest fiction recs"/"pro incest posts" those freaks mentioned were literally 1) me gushing about revolutionary girl utena, a deeply feminist and self-aware series that unpacks the misogyny behind anime incest tropes by treating that abuse REALISTICALLY as patriarchal manipulation from a male relative and showing how the female victim suffers and emancipates herself from it and 2) me being annoyed that hs showed one of its characters suffering from csa without acknowledging it AS abuse, even when it would've been not just the morally decent thing to do, but also a genuinely good addition to his character arc (apparently it does do that in the endstory, but i didn't know it at the time). those are both posts about realistic, condemning, and well-thought depictions of incestuous abuse in fiction—which is the only way i ever enjoy the topic btw—but that didn't stop these people from deciding i had an incest fetish and harassing me for weeks on end to the point of accusing me of sexually abusing my teenage brother. like you said, it would be a ghoulish way to treat someone even if their assumption had been right (and it wasn't), but it's like they saw the topic being mentioned and that fact alone was unforgivable, regardless of context. and this crap happens to people all the time! if that's not fucking stupid i don't know what is

#answered asks #csa mention #incest mention #biscia hater moment #BAH. all of that aside thank you for reaching out. that was extremely thoughtful of you and i appreciate it a lot

81 notes · View notes

vole-mon-amour · 13 days

Text

I don't know where I'm going with this, but I find it both interesting and OOC when people write Sebastian as someone who would care for sex. We've seen that he can fuck people, but it's for the purpose of getting the information. He knows how to fuck and make people feel good because he knows people's desires. He's literally a demon, so he does what he thinks the receiving person would enjoy and wants.

And sure, we've seen Sebastian leaning in closer for a kiss before almost eating Ciel's soul even though he didn't have to, he could just take it (I mean, Claude chose to kill Alois and not make it easier on him cause he doesn't really care while Sebastian does care for Ciel).

But I think if Seb and Ciel were to fuck canonically, if Sebastian was to receive any kind of sexual pleasure (such as a blowjob, for example), he'd make a performance out of it for Ciel's sake. I feel like Sebastian either doesn't feel much or he can't truly take pleasure in that because, well, he's a demon. Or not so much as he can't, but he doesn't CARE for that? All he wants if to eat Ciel's soul. Before he can do that, he, according to Yana's deleted post, likes to dress Ciel up like a pretty little doll and make him look right (according to society's standards).

So I feel like Seb would try and make Ciel feel good when it comes to sex. He wouldn't have to do something Ciel would expect from him exactly, but he could follow what he senses Ciel actually wants. He could try and tease Ciel in some ways, but if there's an actual order—to stop or to not do something, Seb, most likely, would have (or at least choose) to obey.

And yeah, Seb deserves to feel good, but feelings to him are such... an irrelevant thing? He's not human. The only way I feel he'd be able to truly enjoy any kind of stimulation is maybe through his actual demonic form? Which is basically a big black void with glowing eyes and big hand and claws, so it's another kind of stimulation. 🤷‍♀️

So yeah, in my mind, if they were to fuck, it's for Ciel's sake. Unreleased sexual tention, hormones, Seb toying with him for his own amusement when Ciel allows him such frivolity. Not because Seb wants and enjoys the feeling of Ciel sucking his dick or whatever (that body isn't even exactly real, so it's kind of ridiculous to me. It's a tool through which he communicates with the world, other humans, and sometimes protects Ciel (Thinking about that injury in, I believe, book of Atlantis?)).

#kuroshitsuji #sebaciel #antis block me on sight pls #antis dni

35 notes · View notes

controversial-blorbo-bracket · 19 days

Text

Controversial Character Tournament Round 2: Heather from Total Drama vs Dirk Strider from Homestuck

(remember that these characters are fictional and your fellow tumblr users are real. i will block you if you harass others in the notes, please consider sending your unhinged harassment to my inbox instead)

Propaganda under the cut, may contain spoilers:

Heather:

HATE: - "she's kind of evil, she only uses people for ulterior motives. she never regrets her actions. like she literally only does it for fun. she's racist, misogynistic, homophobic and xenophobic. also, she has very weak and episodic character growth, which just ruins the character entirely considering that it's a linear story"

Dirk Strider:

LOVE: -"everyone hates this asshole mans emotionally abused his boyfriend even after breaking up, kills himself because things didn't go his way, beheaded himself so said boyfriend would kiss him, became an anime supervillain because ???? anyway I love him" - "man who is responsible for like every bad thing in the comic. but also he's sixteen and didnt mean it. and it wasnt even his fault. but he blames himself. everyone loves blaming him and calling him abusive. i must stress that he is sixteen and socially isolated. he straight up isnt responsible. hes done many things wrong. but literally not the things people blame him for." - "there aren’t words to describe how fucked up this dude is" - "i know the controversial character people normally think of from homestuck is vriska but i've seen a lot of people slandering dirk over the years. he does just want to help his friends. all of the alpha kids are dysfunctional as fuck but i feel like dirk tends to get the most slander of the four of them, which isn't deserved. not to mention what they did to my boy in the epilogues they just deleted his character arc. people are all "oh he's the cool badass" or "oh he's evil and unfeeling" he is sixteen years old. and he likes horses and anime. also a slight side note but he's the one who tends to get sexualized the most which is bad. but that also tends to be controversial in this fandom so i think that should net him extra points." - "half the fandom wants him dead; half love him. he can't make up his mind about himself. any time i reread i go through a period of wanting to beat him with a rock before i warm up to him again. also vriska was already submitted so many times so he's like the next best" HATE: - "Listen I've fluctuated between both love and hate but either time I felt such strong feelings about it"

#possibly my favorite matchups so far #poll #round 2 #total drama #homestuck #td heather #Dirk strider #1 submission #6 submissions #Heather #Heather total drama #total drama Heather #total drama island #Dirk homestuck

28 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 6 months

Text

A Simple Request For An Unsimple Man (Gale x Fem!Oc Tav)

Author's note: Hello, it's certainly been a minute since I've been able to post fic here without worrying about formatting bullshit (love so much that my longest running fic can't be posted here because it relies on italics/formatting techniques within the first 50ish chapters and tumblr makes that a headache)But, I've found myself sinking a bit into BG3/Gale hell and after some prompting my @shallow-gravy about a comment I left about Gale being able to summon a bed, I decided this might be a fun idea and oops have a thirty page one shot! So, have something featuring my tav- Petra and Gale. Still not sure of what I"m doing with these characters, but hey~

Summary: Petra and Gale are more than a little clumsy in the ways that they love, both having their own significant dry spell when it comes to romance and sexual desires. And while the two have shared themselves within the weave, Petra has made a simple request to share their physical bodies as well. Gale is not good at simple.

Warnings: Unprotected vaginal sex, praise kinks, creampies, cunnilingus (tav/petra in this is a cis female woman), fingering, mutual masturbation, tooth-rotting fluff (turns out I write fluff now), soft!dom Gale, and magical sex mishaps.

Petra's mind has been a maelstrom of worries for quite a while now, however, if someone had told her that amidst tadpoles, cults, and shadow cursed lands that her mind would be consumed with matters of the heart and loins- well, she'd think they were crazy.

But, perhaps she's the crazy one.

She never expected to love again, never expected to find someone who felt like home, or makes her heart stutter on every other beat. But she never expected to have a tadpole shoved into her eye or to pull a wizard from a stone- let alone for that very wizard be the one doing this to her. Life is full of surprises, as is her lover.

Ugh, gods- she has a lover.

The very thought makes her face burn, her heart pound, and her guts twist. If she didn't know any better she'd think herself ill, but alas- she's learned that's merely Gale's influence on her. The wizard needed no charms or illusions to win her affection, but he warned her early on- well before either of them had realized what was growing between them, that he had a taste for grand gestures.

And grand they were.

He conjured her stars and shifting auroras against an ink black night, he showed her his home, his sanctuary without her needing to step a foot into Waterdeep. And he plucked their very souls from their bodies, to kiss and touch and merge within a realm beyond their own. Glittering blue forms, never knowing quite where his touch ended and hers began, surrounded and consumed by him. An electric blur of his touch over her very being.

She would have been content with a flower and a bowl of his deer stew, but who is she to turn down the adoration fueled gestures of a man she does not deserve.

Which in part is why she can't help but suspect she might be being just a touch greedy…

Made all the worse by her greed and insecurity tugging her mind back and forth between them like rabid dogs would a slice of steak.

In some ways she's already done the hardest part, confessing her desire to Gale felt like a herculean task in itself, a stumble of poorly put together words while her face burned hotter than Karlach's engine. But ultimately, she got the message across and Gale as always was far too eager to oblige.

Though, he seems intent to oblige her request in his Gale way of obliging.

Because, you see, her request is incredibly simple. Despite her anxiety and insecurity- she wants to fuck Gale the old fashioned way. She loved the way they bonded before and truly will jump to do it again, but she just can't help but also want the more mundane variety. To feel flesh and bone, to touch his skin, to press her lips against his throat and feel his pulse race beneath her tongue. This of course means he'll also be seeing her naked properly without blue blurry auras smoothing out her every- less excited for that, but her desire for him outweighs her shame for herself.

And this simple request, frankly- could have been sated nearly the moment it was made in the privacy of his tent. He needed only to roll her onto her back or pull her to straddle his hips, a few garments tossed aside, the dark providing her with some some cloaking while still getting to feel and see him- gods bless darkvision.

But that would be far too simple, her request instead met with a wide smile a; "Say no more, consider it done, my love," a kiss goodnight, and the looming knowledge that he was planning something.

So, perhaps surprise is too strong a word when she returns to camp after a brief walk alone to find her companions snickering and Gale's mirror image standing outside his tent. Thin ripples of weave radiating through an otherwise perfect copy of her favorite wizard. She knows it could be perfect, saw him make one perfect before- the imperfections intentional, to let her know it's not him and instead a messenger.

Petra skirts past her chattering friends, pretending she doesn't feel several sets of eyes following her as she stands before the replication of her dearest. Who merely beams with that bright smile that she's come to adore, even if it's merely a simulacrum of it.

"Heh, I take it Gale has some plans for us tonight?" She whispers towards the mirror image, trying to keep prying ears from learning too much. Not that her and Gale are secretive about their relationship by any means, but not every one of their friends needs to know when they're having sex.

"That he does and I have the most wonderous task of taking you to see him, words cannot begin to express how eager he is to see you tonight," the mirror image chirps, not even a hint of shame or volume control as his eyes burn with that same flame of adoration the real Gale always seems to carry- her face flushing beneath its heat.

"Ugh, hells you two are going to make me throw up a perfectly good meal, would you please take your simpering gazes elsewhere," Astarion calls out from around the campfire, a hint of a smile in his words, then his lips when Petra turns to glower at him.

"I hardly think whatever shadow cursed vermin you've managed to snack on out here counts as a good meal- but rest assured, I am leaving."

"But of course- after all your little magician is so very eager," he mocks again and if he weren't her friend, she'd kick his arse- still might.

"Oh lay off her, Fangs- it's cute, like two pups wagging their tails at each other."

"I believe nauseating is the word you're looking for," Shadowheart chimes in, "I mean really, not a drop of shame between the two, every time he leaves behind one of those mirror images- he might as well just declare that they're about to go rut around in the woods all night."

"Date nights are perfectly healthy for a newly bonded couple-"

"Dates- is that what you think they're doing out there? In the middle of nowhere, alone- you think they're, what, chatting about their favorite books over a glass of wine?" Astarion cuts Wyll off, incredulous that he would refer to Petra and Gale's outings as a date.

"I mean, wouldn't really be all that shocked if they were- it is Gale, after all…"

"Regardless, I think seeing our friends form such a union is something to be celebrated not mocked."

"Their carnal desires are hardly any of our concern, so long as they remain vigilant in battle- however, I must say I do find it curious that the wizard always seeks to be hunted, he might as well submit outright if he cannot best her in combat."

"Oh, I'm sure he does plenty of submitting."

"I don't know 'bout that, Petra may be bossier but look at the poor thing- redder than a devil's arsehole, probably turns into a mess the moment clothes start comin' off."

Petra grasps the mirror image's arm, her face burning hot and no doubt just as red as Karlach said. She hisses between gritted teeth; "Get me the fuck out of here."

"Your wish is my command, now- let us find more pleasant company," he assures her, quickly walking her away from the camp as their friends speculate about their sex life.

"And by that, you mean yourself," she teases, leaning against the mirror image's arm. The conjured form isn't a perfect match, both from the rippling static like eminence of weave and it being a little less shameful than her Gale. But it carries his warmth, his smell- like the innards of an old library, cozy and welcoming.

"Would you have it any other way?"

"Gods no," she admits, burrowing her face into his arm, hiding her flushed cheeks from his view.

"Careful now, I'd hate to be jealous of myself," Gale's voice rings out, more alive, more human and not right beside her- her head shoots up, the sky is bathed in shifting colors and twinkling lights. Her Gale just a short walk away; "Though I can hardly blame you, he is quite handsome."

And that’s all she needs, letting go of the mirror image, the half-elf rushes towards him- the real him, a small laugh escaping Gale’s lips as she throws her arms around him. As nice as the fake one is, it will never feel as good as touching the real thing. His heat seeping in between their clothes, warming her skin- that must of old books and lavender offset slightly by the salt of his sweat. His large hands holding her in kind, one settling on the small of her back and the other stroking through her hair. She takes a deep breath, a heavy inhale and exhale of him, before finally lifting her head ever so slightly- enough to look up at him,

The way he looks at her could melt all of Frostfell. Those soft brown eyes looking at her like she’s hung the stars and moon, all the while he’s the one who’s conjured the sky above them.

“A good evening to you too,” he greets, smiling so sweetly and she stands up on her tiptoes- Gale meeting her need as she presses a kiss to that very smile. The warm press of his mouth against hers sending heat and butterflies through her very veins, she breaks back before she can get carried away. Not wanting to ruin his plans, but struggling to stifle the desire to kiss him until her lungs ache.

“Good evening,” she hums back instead, squeezing him tighter, her eyes looking around the wide field bathed in the glow of soft purples and blues. It’s largely familiar, the same space and view he created the night he brought their very souls together- when he confessed his fear, his love, and so much more. Where she pleaded for him to stay, for him to live.

Though with one very new addition to the expanse of field- an extraordinarily out of place bed. Lavish and lush with deep indigo blankets, bathed in the glow of the sky and the burning of a torch mounted in the ground beside it- the addition betraying the reason they’re here tonight.

“You know what I can’t help but notice?” Petra remarks after a beat of silence, a quiet moment of simply sinking into one another’s hold- blinking up at her wizard.

“My dashing good looks?”He asks, a small smile and a raise of his brow.

“Mm, yes, but no more than usual,” she plays along, smiling against him. Knotting her fingers in the plush purple of his tunic,debating on if she should slip her hands beneath the fabric- wanting to feel more of his skin.

“My brilliant mind and ever expanding intellect?”

“Well, that just goes without saying,” she assures him, heaping on the praise for him.

“Hmm, than it must be my veritable wealth of charm and wit.”

“Close and before you ask- no, it’s not your modesty either,” she teases, scratching her nails over his back through his shirt- trying to sate her ache to touch him, “What I can’t help but notice is that whenever you pull me away for a night via your mirror image- it seems to mean I’m the one left dealing with the whispers of our companions.”

He grimaces slightly, somewhat between amusement and annoyance; “Ah, yes, a… much unfortunate consequence, but one we simply can’t avoid, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, is that so?” She teases, laughing through her smile, “Funny how that unavoidable consequence seems to benefit you.”

“Life is full of those funny little mysteries, I think it wise to embrace- not question, these curiosities.”

“Thats quite a fancy way of saying you intend to keep throwing me to the wolves,” she chirps, pulling a hand back to slap him playfully in the ribs, he merely laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing; “Do you know that right now, at this very moment- our friends gossiping like hens about which one us… takes the lead?”

“Ah, yes, I’m… terribly sorry to have missed that conversation.”

“And yet, I suspect you’re not sorry at all,” she comments, reaching upward she strokes through his hair- tracing a streak of gray that curls around his ear, soft brown strands slipping between her fingers. He’s so lucky he’s so damned adorable.

“Oh, but I am- absolutely contrite that I could not steal you away before their sordid chatter reached your ears- after all, I’m no more keen on our proclivities being the subject of discussion than you are,” he admits and she hums, a small smirk on her lips as he continues on, trying to insist he definitely feels bad about leaving the gossipy shit for her to handle.

“Perhaps not, but you do seem keen on leaving me to handle it.” She points out again, cradling his jaw- his beard scratching her palm as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. Petra often wonders if he minds the callouses that cling to her skin. Her flesh so much rougher than his, he leans into her touch, presses his jaw to her hand.

“And my apologies are most sincere, however if you still find yourself unconvinced- perhaps I can show you the depth of my remorse?” He asks, pressing his forehead to hers, lips a breath away, “You need only ask, demand any penance you deem fit- and I will gladly pay it.”

“Is that so?”

“There is no sin against you, no matter size or severity, that I would not repent for.”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” she admits, the only thought on her mind when his face is so close to hers- when his lips are just a breath away. When one tilt of her head, one jolt would crash their lips together.

“Hmm, I think you may not have a full understanding of what penance means, my dear, typically-”

“Gale,” she says, looking up at him with the sternest eyes she can manage- no doubt stopping him from prattling off the definition of penance. Because she’s in love with a sentient thesaurus.

“Yes.”

“You have until the count of three to kiss me and if you don’t- I’m going to bite you,” she threatens, not sure how much she wants him to listen- she does like biting him, “One-”

“Thinking over my options,” he chimes, sing songy as he seems equally unsure of which choice he likes more.

“Two.”

“I do rather like your love bites, but your kisses are quite enchanting as well.”

“Thr-”

His lips press to hers, deeper than before. One of her hands twists in his tunic, the other in the his hair. He cradles her jaw and lower back, pulling each other closer, she can’t help the small sigh of happiness and bliss as his tongue pushes into her mouth. The faintest taste of his cooking still on his tongue, a hint of mint where he tried to clear it out- maybe she should have been so kind.

Their kisses are still clumsy, a slightly awkward press and swirl of tongues, both single and isolated for a year or more. But it feels like warmth and love and home in a way she can’t define, heat simmering between her thighs when the hand on her back moves lower. A broad palm playfully squeezing at her ass, tugging her closer, the grope of his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh- a soft moan echoing from her throat, muffled by his tongue.

They break apart, breathing ragged- hot puffs of air across each other’s lips. She can feel the heat clinging to the apples of her cheeks, mirrored in the flush that creeps beneath Gale’s beard. Petra grins up at his beautiful red face, the brown of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black of his pupil.

“Three,” she whispers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nipping playfully at the kiss swollen flesh. Gale groans, deep and throaty, sending molten heat right to her cunt. His lips pulls out from between her teeth as he pulls her into a desperate hungered kiss.

It’s deeper than the last, even more ravenous and rough, both of his hands now groping at her backside- kneading at her flesh, feeling his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh through her clothing. Wishing his hands were beneath her clothes, on her skin, pressing into her properly.

She tugs at his hair, scratches her nails along his scalp as he kisses her deeper and deeper, her lungs burning by the time she feels the back of her thighs bumping something soft. Breaking off the kiss to see she’s somehow been staggered back to the bed. It’s plush blankets and rows of pillows beckoning her. She can’t help but giggle.

“Couldn’t settle for a dirty bedroll, could you?” She teases, stealing another soft kiss.

“The least I could do for your comfort, time spent together in the flesh should be no less beautiful than that spent in the celestial- whatever way you’ll have me, I wish only to make it perfect for you.”

“Then… wish no more,” she murmurs, voice soft as she avoids the intensity of his gaze, the adoration that consumes his words and expression, “You’re here with me, I could not imagine anything more perfect than that.”

“Careful now, keep talking that way- you may never be rid of me,” he tries to joke, to tease- but when she forces herself to look back up at him, she can see the flush of his cheeks deepening as his smile widens.

And with everything that still hangs in the air- Mystra’s unreasonable request, the knowledge that a part of him still doesn’t feel certain of whether he’ll see the end of this journey. The fact he may still make that choice, that he very well still might leave her in some desperate attempt to save the world. She throws her arms tight around his neck, latches her nails into his skin as she tugs him closer, closer. His nose bumping her own, his forehead back flush against hers.

“I truly hope that I could be so lucky,” she rushes out, reiterating her wish- her plead again. That he’ll stay here with her, that she will never be rid of him- that on the other side of this whole ordeal is a future where his story stays enmeshed with her own. That she’ll not have to lose another love, not sure her heart could stand it.

Then it’s another clash of lips, tongue, and teeth- not even sure who started this one, both desperate to get their mouths on each other. And for a moment, she feels herself lifted, feet off the air- she giggles into his kiss before the world shifts every so slightly, her back thumping down onto the soft blankets. Her weight sinking into the plush of the mattress, Gale smiling at her lowers a knee to the bed and climbs up, settling above her.

Adoration, the word comes to mind over and over again whenever he looks at her. Brown eyes soft and clear with nothing but that emotion, letting it sink in through her skin and into her bones, consuming her wholly. She never thought she loved brown eyes so much, disliking her own for so long- but on him they’re so beautiful. Warm and filled with more love than she’s could ever hope to deserve.

She cups his face and pulls him down for another kiss, never satisfied. He said before that moment with her could sate him for a lifetime and while the sentiment still rattles her to her very soul- she can’t say she relates, feeling as if she could have a million with him and still beg for one more, for another, another, another. Not enough time in the universe for how much she wishes to spend with him.

Her hands tug at his tunic, reaching one beneath- no longer able to suppress the desperate need to just touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers, warm flesh and coarse body hair, the soft skin of his stomach. A layer of plush with a hint of firmer muscle beneath, when she presses a little harder. Their lips part again as Gale leans back onto his knees, which sink into the bed on either side of her hips.

She skims her hands down his hips and thighs as Gale grips at his shirt, tugging it off- carefully putting it aside. Petra’s eyes roaming the open exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. The celestial version of him gorgeous, but not truly doing him justice. Smooth glowing blue aura not showing the dark body hair that scatters across his chest, trailing down his stomach and leading to below his waistband. The occasional freckle and even rarer scar that decorate his skin.

Even the mark on his chest, the symbol where the orb took root in his chest. Bruised in the middle, tendrils sweeping out from it- the ones that curl up the left side of his throat growing fainter as they stretch out to vanish beneath his beard- connected faintly to the prominent veins that ghost below his eye. She hates what that thing has done to him, how it’s hurt him- how it’s not being used as a threat against his very life, but even that she finds beautiful on his flesh. The mark of his mistakes, of his devotion to one who never deserved it, proof of him as a man who sought love in worship. His folly is as much a part of the man she loves as every virtue he carries in kind.

“Fuck,” she curses, all the words she can utter as she gazes at him. Admiring every inch of his body that’s been revealed to her. Realizing she’s rarely seen him shirtless, not counting the celestial plane and a few brief, awkward mistakes while navigating river baths in the early days of their travel. How odd that they’ve been so deeply intimate, yet she can’t say she’s seen him fully naked.

Which means he has yet to see her fully naked as well- which scares her even more than the tadpole gnawing at the inside of her skull.

“If you ever sought to deflate my ego, I must say- you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he teases, a brilliant grin on his face as her own burns with heat.

"As if I'd ever embark on a such a fool's errand," she taunts, skimming her hands upward and feeling the heat of his skin. Raking her nails along his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hand, biting her tongue to not make any comments about belly rubs.

"Hmm, given your…tendencies, forgive me if I remain unconvinced."

She lets out a breath of a laugh- "You know, you're astoundingly disagreeable, for a man attempting to bed me."

"Not to add to the matter, but I do believe we've past the point of 'attempting.'"

"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna learn magic just so I can cast silence on you one of these days," she threatens, pinching playfully at his flesh.

"And I'd be honored to teach you, but for now- I hope finding other uses for my mouth will suffice," he offers, dipping down to kiss her again, bracing one hand to the pillows by her head- the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushing along her cheekbone, a soft sigh muffled by his tongue pushing into her mouth. Her hands roam his torso, unable to settle fully on which part of him she wants to touch- his stomach, chest, sides, back, and shoulders all feeling so perfect beneath her fingers.

His warm wide palm brushes down her jaw to her neck, heat and sparks rising to her skin wherever his fingers touch. Unable to help the way she squirms beneath his mouth and hands, the soft noises she whimpers into his kiss, against his tongue as her own presses into his mouth in kind. Burning heat aches between her thighs, barely touched but even the faintest of his kisses or the briefest brush of his fingers pulls desperation from her very soul. Pathetic in her need for him,

Gale's hand leaves her skin for a moment, already cold without his touch, she drags her nails along his shoulder blades- tries to pull him down closer. Then his hand finds her ribs, presses against her side molten warm on her chilled skin. Caught between relishing in the brush of his fingers and the way her insecurities make her body go rigid. Her hope that he may not notice dashed the moment their kiss breaks apart, ragged breath and flushed face not betraying the concern that knits his brows- the worry carved into every line of his face.

"Is everything alright?" He asks, voice lower and rougher, lips swollen and wet- strands of hair beginning to fall and stick against the sweat that beads along his forehead.

"Yeah, yes, of course," she insists, her own voice rougher than she expects as she tries to cram down the bubble of anxiety in her ches- desperate not to ruin her or Gale's night.

"Petra, I would never claim you to be an open book, but you are one that I feel most adept at reading- though, I could still clearly still use some slight guidance and for that I'll need your words. Tell me what is wrong, so I may make it right, please," he tries again, with more words and more conviction- his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along the sensitive point. A little chill curls along her spine in response.

"It's nothing, really," she murmurs, smoothing her palm along his neck- tracing along the tendrils of blacked raised flesh that curls from the orb. Wondering again, if the callouses and scars of her hands bother him.

His hands are softer than hers, more versed in flipping book pages and casting spells than hunting or stealing. He's mentioned spas and bathhouses in Waterdeep, and she wonders what balms or lotions he'd be using were their supplies not so limited. He's not without his scars, she knows- but even the raised flesh feels softer on his body than hers. Subtle faded burns from cooking and casting mishaps alike, a raised crease on his forehead from summoning a toy he wanted as a child- only to have the wooden train set appear and thunk down atop his head.

Her scars and memories aren't so kind. No stories as sweet or kind. No fuzzy nostalgia for raised lashmarks on her back or thighs. No warm feelings about the scar across her lip, the only thing her mother deemed fit to let her keep, the same scar Gale must feel every time they kiss.

Gale has suffered truly and she would never suggest otherwise, she'd sooner fist fight Mystra than deny the pain he's endured, the pain he is still enduring. However, when he hears him talk of his childhood, his mother, Tara, his education- she can't help but feel like a tragedy in comparison. A pitiful thing next to him. Nowhere near worthy of his adoration, his efforts, his love…

"If it weighs on your mind, then it is not nothing."

"Okay, so… it's nothing, but it is silly," she tells him, scratching her thumbnail through his beard, hoping to distract him.

"Then if it is so silly and inconsequential, there will be no harm in telling me, will there?" He says, her nose wrinkling, he's so stubborn, "My aim is not to push you into telling me anything, but what kind of man would I be to notice your discomfort and continue on as if I hadn't?"

"Okay, okay- if you must make sense," she huffs and pouts, chews on her lip and avoids his gaze as she turns her head to the side, "I just am a little…insecure. Without the weave smoothing out my scars, blurring my freckles, and softening me- well, it helped make me someone worth touching."

Her admission hangs in the air for a moment, her chest rigid with tension and swollen with a bubble of anxiety. He must think she's exhausting, asking this of him then getting so worked up over it. Her desire for him outweighing but not fully dealing away with her own insecurities. Truthfully, she'd have been content to strip Gale down,kiss and touch him to her heart's content- while never letting his hands graze her. But, he always has a way of taking the lead when it comes to these things. A fact that can never make its way back to camp.

A soft kiss presses to the side of her lips, where that scar cuts jaggedly through them. Another against her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks as warm welcoming hands cup her face.

"Look at me, my love." He brings her gaze to his. Her heart lurches up into her throat, skin burning beneath the intensity of Gale's expression. "There is no plane or realm or state of being in which you are anything less than a person worth touching. You are my hope and my light- and no matter how or where you are presented to me, you will always be the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on. The stars, the moon, the sun, the very heavens themselves- you put them all to shame…"

She feels like she's been set ablaze. Her face nearly glowing with its heat, eyes wet, and the chill of the night a distant memory as his words burn through her very being. And he means them, gods help her- he means them. Able to hear and feel the conviction in every syllable, see his earnestness in the lines of his expression, in the spark alight in his eyes. And she will never know what she did to deserve him and she will always fear that she may lose him, but she is so happy to have him,

"Ugh, gods, fuck- Gale," she curses, stuttering on her words because she has nowhere near his grasp on the English language, "I don't really know how the hells I'm supposed to argue with that."

"So don't," he says, the request surprising in its brevity. His lips press to the corner of her eye, Petra realizing a moment too late that tears had started to streak down her face.

He kisses down the path of her tears, her jaw, her neck craning to the side as he buries his face against her throat. Feverish and heavy kisses across her skin, her arms wrap tight around his back- digging her nails into his shoulder blades as he bites tenderly at her skin, laving his tongue across the sting he left behind. She groans as he sucks harshly, nips at her pulse point, and she can't help but squeeze her thighs together- trying to get a bit of relief, everything he does just making her needier.

She curls her hand into his hair, twisting the silver streaked strands around her fingers as Gale kisses along her collarbone. Careful as his teeth graze where the skin stretches thinner over bone, the briefest edge of pain soothed over by the lap of his tongue. She moves the hand not tugging at his hair down his chest, skimming down his stomach, and finally presses her open palm to his groin- feeling his cock hardening in his pants, the heat of him through the fabric. A rough, nearly pained groan echoes against her collarbone. His forehead suddenly pressed to her shoulder, twitching beneath her touch.

“Too much?” She whispers against his ear, worried she may have pushed too far too soon. Far too aware despite her eagerness that neither of them have had physical sex in a year or more- probably more, considering his time with Mystra.

“No such thing with you,” he says through a raspy breath, his lips catching hers again as his hands brush up her sides- warm open palms stroking up the taunt freckled skin of her stomach. Stoking a fire that burns inside of her, heat rising to the very surface of her flesh as grinds her palm against him. Desperate to give him even a hint of the same heat burning in her.

His movements halt as his fingers brush the edge of her cropped nightshirt, kiss breaking as his eyes meet hers, a surprisingly silent request from her wizard. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from his hair and cock, Gale provides her the space as she sits up to hook her fingers beneath the edges of her shirt and tug it up off over her head. Petra tosses it aside, shaking out her hair and trying not to overthink being naked from the waist up.

Every fiber of her being screams that she should cover her chest, having gained some weight since traveling with Gale- his cooking having put a few pounds on her, but sadly none of those managed to reach her tits. Small and fuller at the bottom than the top, freckled like damn near every other inch of her.

But as always, there is nothing sheer adoration in Gale’s eyes and with a little press of his palm on her sternum her back is hitting the sheets again. The blankets and pillows all the softer on her bare skin, sinking down into the blush of it. Warmth of the sheets and his hand a contrast to the chill of the open air that’s snuck back in, her nipples stiffening as a breeze taunts her.

Her legs spread for him as he moves closer, allowing him to slot himself between her thighs- a gasp on her tongue when his cock brushes against her core. Cloth grinding against her wet clit, feeling the outline of him against her. She groans and tries to wrap her legs around his hips, only for his hand to find her thigh- a steady palm pressing it back against the mattress. And his other hand finds hers, his large warm palm eclipsing hers, fingers intertwining with her own- as he presses another quick kiss to her lips, the next to her collarbones, another to the top of her breasts, then the heat of his mouth is around her nipple.

“Fuck,” she curses, a hiss of breath as pleasure sparks across her skin- Gale sucks harshly at her chest, teasing her nipple with his tongue, just the hint of his teeth on the fullest part of her breast, and the scratch of his beard on her skin.

She whines and whimpers, fingers knotting in his hair- his hands on her hand and thigh keeping her pinned beneath his weight, only able to arch and squirm against his mouth. Her hips try to writhe on instinct, trying to find friction against her core, trying to refind it. But he presses a little harder on her thigh, keeping his full weight off her, too much empty space between them for her to be sated. A frustrated whine in her throat as he pulls off her breast with a soft wet sound, not offering her any relief to her core or even acknowledgement of his torture, only a small hungry groan as he takes her other breast into his mouth.

The air feels even colder on her spit slick chest, nipple swollen and redder, a scratch of flushed beard burn left behind. Sharp contract making her squirm all the more as he makes the other match. Her sounds pathetic and needy, as he teases her sensitive chest. Every swipe of his tongue, brush of his teeth, scratch of his beard, and hungry reverberating groan against her skin sends a pulse of pleasure between her thighs.

“Gale,please,” she keens, not even sure what she’s begging for, more or less- if she’s squirming to press herself tighter to his face or trying to escape the laving of his tongue on her body. But she can only whine when her cry is met with a groan that echoes against her, reverberates in her bones, seeps through her veins, and settles in the wet heat between her thighs.

His lips pull away from her chest, the hand that had been pressed into hers slips away- palm stroking down her forearm, along her collarbones as Gale’s mouth moves lower. Soft kisses beneath the curve of her breast, down the middle of her stomach, his thumb brushing over her nipple- his fingers nearly chasing after his mouth as he moves down her body. Lips kissing over her belly button as he squeezes at her breast, the sink of his hands into the squish of her chest, large warm hand groping and teasing while he works his mouth even lower.

“Gale,” she whines again, as he presses her thigh tighter to the bed, his beard scratching just at the waistband of her pants. His hand skims down from her breast, fingers pressing soft divots into her hip. Then hook into her waist band, her thigh released finally as he mirrors the gesture of his other.His deep brown eyes looking up as her.

“May-”

“Please,” she cuts him off, hissing her consent, the ragged sound of his voice only making her desparate for more of him. He smiles, far too sweet for a man about to strip her naked- another soft kiss beneath her navel and then he’s tugging her clothes down.

She does her best to make it easy for him, lifting her hips as he rolls the fabric down them, moving her legs as needed when he finally yanks the clothes from her body. Her dearest magician having made sure to grab her underwear with them as well. Petra laid completely bare before him, The air just as cold on the slick heat of her cunt as it’s been to her split slick breasts. A chill curling along her spine, reminding her that despite the plush mattress and the soft downy blankets hugging her skin, they’re unmistakably outside. Conjured bed in the midst of the field, twinkling stars and kaleidoscopes of colors still dancing over head- bathing her blush touched skin in their glow.

Petra presses a hand to her mouth, trying halfway to hide her crimson face as her other hand hovers to hide her cunt. She can’t imagine the sight she must make- red faced, tangled hair against the pillow, throat mottled by his teeth, chest marked with saliva, the red scratch of beard burn lingering along her flesh and slick clinging to the meat of her thighs. The mess his mouth has made of her on full display.

His fingers are warm and reverant when they wrap around her wrist, plucking her hand from where it covers her cunt- exposing her even further as he presses a kiss to her palm.

“None of that, my love,” he whispers against her skin. Her nose wrinkles, heat still burning through her face- no words find her, so she pulls her hand from her mouth and sticks her tongue out at him. Feeling his smile against her palm, a soft nip of teeth against her wrist.

His hand falls away from her wrist, Petra scratches her nails through his beard before allowing her own to drop. A gasp catching in her throat when the broad warmth of his palms presses against both of her thighs. Her knees bending as she allows him to spread her further apart, even more exposed- even more on display than she felt before. His deep brown eyes reverent and nearly eclipsed by his pupils as he looks down at her slick cunt- Petra squirms against the sheets and the press of his hands.

“Gods,” he breathes out, her heart stuttering in her chest, “I could study for ages, read every tome and scroll in all of Faerun and still never be able to conjure a more beautiful sight than you.”

“Gale…” She whines, burying her face in her hands- burning beneath his gaze and words, how can he say these things without a singular fucking drop of shame? And how can he mean every single word of it?

“I’m right here, love,” he answers, pressing his face into her inner thigh- soft lips and the scratch of his beard, her breathing hitches as he kisses her flesh. Another moving further inward, along her skin. His tongue licking the slick that clings to her, his teeth nipping bruises into her thigh.

She squirms and writhes, anticipation coiling tight inside of her, only one goal with the direction of his kisses. Every lick and bite jolting phantom pleasure to her cunt, insides clenching and aching for something more direct, to feel that scratch of his beard and the lave of his tongue where she needs it most. No matter how embarassing the idea is. Need outweighing shame.

And as he moves further between her thighs, he lowers himself down, closer and closer- the skin feeling all the more sensitive as he nears her cunt. His hands and arms shifting, pushing beneath her thighs- a warm support of flesh and bone, his palms settling on her hips, before pressing down. His steady hold preventing her squirming, pinning her in place as he sucks a harsh mark into her skin.

“Please, Gale,” she whimpers, twisting both her hands into his hair, trying to squirm her hips to no avail.

“You have not an ounce of patience, do you?” He murmurs against her thigh, blunt edges of his teeth nipping at her flesh.

“Absolutely fucking not, not with you,” she whines, words burbling out, “I need you, please.”

A smile pressed into her skin and she can see it in her mind, even if she can’t through her thigh- she bites her tongue, waiting for his words to spill forth again. Waits for more waiting. Waits for another three part sentence and enough verbiage to put a dictionary to shame, all needed before he may finally put his fucking mouth on her.

The brush of breath on her wet cunt, his head shifting between her thighs- beneath her fingers and the heavy lave of his tongue through her center. Pleasure shockwaves through her, a half stuttered curse on her lips as her hips jolt and her fingers dig into his scalp. His hands press down harsher on her hips, mattress and blankets denting beneath her, keeping her still as the heat of his mouth consumes her every thought and feeling.

A practised tongue works her over, laving through her slit, dipping inside of her and lapping at the slick that rushes out of her. Each swipe of his tongue only drawing more from her, making her cunt clench around his tongue, feeling herself soak the scratch of his beard. A hungry groan against her, reverberating and twisting the coil inside of her tighter, sounding like a man starved- her insides burn, her hips try to writhe, to find even more friction as his tongue traces every inch of her.

Groans and wet noises against her, echoing and hanging in the open air, mingling with the nonsense of whines and pleads that she can’t seem to stop. Body and voice hardly her own as she's taken apart by every hungry lick into her cunt, pleasure burning hotter and coil dragging tighter.

A bump of his nose against her swollen clit and she's thrown over the edge, embarrassingly easy, a thunder of pleasure through her veins- coil snapping and body on fire as it consumes her very being. Only distantly aware that she's thrashing, gasping, and pressing down harsher on Gale's skull as her body jolts. Pleasure ravages her, his tongue and lips toying with her clit all the while, Gale burying his face into her as he pushes her end further and further, harsh sucks on her swollen flesh, pushing her back into ecstasy's grip anytime it threatens to let her go.

Not so much as cumming again, but Gale refusing to let her stop. Drawing her pleasure out, the faintest sign of it waning met with a firm nearly painful swipe of his tongue or suck against her clit, tracing patterns against it that her blanking mind can’t make sense of- only able to call his name and thrash beneath him, as pleasure edges to near pain.

And finally, he pulls away from her, orgasm crashing down and away to faint tremors versus an active quake. Her throat raw and aching from the noises he pulled from her, cunt throbbing and clenching at the sudden relief and gut wrenching absence- both somehow existing at once. Both missing his mouth and happy to be afforded the chance to come down from her high.

Her breaths are ragged and raw, coming back to her body. Shame aching painfully in her chest, needling at her hammering heart. The first physical bodily orgasm wrung from her by another’s hand in two years. Brought to her end by the stray bump against her clit. Her celestial form not only prettier, but able to endure far more- it seems.

And that shame only grows as the world fully returns to her, realizing just how tight her hands are wrenched in his hair- how harshly she’s pressing against his skull. His breath ragged and hot against her wet thigh, slick with sweat and more. And she can hear how out of breath he is, how she nearly stole the very air from his lungs- nearly drowned him in her.

“So-sorry,” she whispers, letting him go and hiding behind her hands, hating how desperate and ragged her voice is, “I uh, shit- didn’t mean to- I could’ve suffocated you, I’m so sorry, fuck-”

For all her begging him to live, to stay- she nearly killed him with her fucking vagina. Because of fucking course that’s something she’d do. A pathetic excuse for a person, a lover, and just an existing thing.

A huff of breath from him, hot on her already burning skin- it’s light and bubbles into a small laugh, another kiss to her thigh. The bed shifts beneath her, his arms and hands pulling away- Petra dares to peek between her fingers. Gale moves over her- his cheeks ruddy with exertion, his hair sweaty and mussed, beard and lips wet with slick. His grin only wider, more boyish when he meets her eyes through the gaps of her fingers- his own wrapping around her wrists.

Delicately, he prises her hands from her face.

“I can think of no better death, than one between your thighs.”

She snorts, a breathless laugh,; “Oh yeah, sure, and I’d be the one stuck explaining your naked corpse to K'ha'ssji'trach'ash.”

“He may appreciate the chuckle, but do remember the ‘chhh’ sound, comes from the back-”

“I know,” she retorts bluntly, her wizard only laughing in response. She can still remember how her nerves rattled the first time she was tasked with saving Gale’s life. Not evening knowing at the time just how much more precious that life would become to her. Terrified of saying a single wrong syllable of the mephit’s name, moving the thread to the wrong side, or hiting a wrong note on that stupid fucking flute.

Keeping him alive will be the death of her, but as he settles slightly next to her- arms curling beneath and around her- her cunt still throbbing with her drawn out orgasm, his body warm, and his open palm cupping her jaw… She can hardly say she’ll mind.

“I must say, I do feel assured knowing you’d bring me back again.”

“Of course, as many times as it takes,” she admits, her next breath swallowed by his lips. His tongue heavy with the taste of her, his kiss and beard wet with her slick, a muffled groan in her throat at the very thought.

She chases to deepen the kiss as much as she can, pressing into his chest- resting her hand over his forearm. Her tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, her insides aching again, even with the throb of near pain between her thighs from her overstimulation. The soft wet sound of their kisses, her own sigh muffled between their mouths as his mouth starts to taste less like her and more like him.

His forearm flexes beneath her fingers, his palm leaving her jaw, the other hand still holding her close and brushing her ribs. Before she can break the kiss or see where his other hand is traversing, she feels his fingers on her lower stomach and skimming down her body.

“Gale,” she whispers against his lips, thighs squeezing together- his fingers already teasing along her mound, scratching through the sparse patch of dark hair above her cunt. He hums against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw- “I can’t… again.”

Her words are stuttered and breathy, not at all convincing- she’s still thrumming after her last orgasm, cunt still aching and sensitive, every cell of her being an exposed livewire he seems intent to keep playing with.

“You can’t… do what exactly?”He asks, voice edged with teasing as he bites at her jawline. Her thighs draw tighter together as his finger start to push between them. Whining as he kisses at her neck and she can already feel that coil starting to twist again.

“Can’t- cum again, too, mm… too soon, let me touch you instead,” she manages through the kisses and bites against her throat. Petra starts to move her hand that’s been placed in the narrow space between their bodies, groping downward- frustrated with the fabric still clinging to his lower half.

“There’s never too soon enough time to touch you,” he whispers against her throat.

“Gale, please,” she gasps, feeling him groan against her as her palm cups him through his pants- hard within his clothes, twitching beneath her touch.

“Spread your legs for me, dear,” he requests and she knows she’ll fall apart so quick, that the pleasure may ache into pain, but she needs him, the promise of his fingers too much. Petra clumsily obeying, spreading her legs; “There we are, so good for me.”

The words go start to her cunt, followed shortly by his fingers- the faintest brush over her swollen clit. She gasps, his name on her lips as she tries not to lose focus on where her own hand is, squeezing at his hard-on, trying to offer him some fraction of the pleasure he’s so persistent on pouring into her. A strained groan against her neck as his fingers start to swirl around her clit, a wet slide and building friction, already painfully close.

“Fuck, Gale,” she hisses, haphazardly trying to yank at the laces of his pants- cursing herself that she can pick the strongest locks in Faerun but can’t yank open her lover’s fucking pants between the odd angle, not being able to properly see what she’s doing, the mouth at her pulse point, and the finger slowly pressing into her.

“You already feel so perfect around me,” he speaks against her neck as a single thick warm finger pushes into her, opening her up, curling into her- her cunt clenching around him, her head thumping back against the pillows as she gasps. Soul sex aside, it’s the thickest thing she’s had in her in years, her own thin nimble fingers not comparing to his broad palms and long thick fingers.

“Please, please, Gale,” she breathes, not sure if she’s asking for more fingers or for help undoing his pants. Maybe both.

She gets a kiss beneath her ear, another finger pushing into her- slow and methodical in his pace. Not seeking to push her into immediate orgasm again, but to stretch her further apart, to see how deep he can fill her with the twist of his fingers. That pleasure building, aching inside of her as his lips kiss up her ear. Small wet presses that sends little chills as he nears the pointed tips of her ears. Feeling herself coating his fingers in wet, slick and accepting as the press of his thick solid fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re taking my fingers so well,” he murmurs before kissing right at the point of her ear, nipping the sensitive skin and she jolts- face hot with pleasure and shame at how easy she is to take apart.

Then he starts to pump his fingers, no longer idly stretching and curling, finding a rhythm as he rocks them in and out of her cunt. A desperate cry on her lips, fingers dragging in and out of her slick heat- toying and curling in to press at her nerves, only to pull back and push back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries, not able to come up with any other word- even when the laces of his pants finally come undone with her frantic tugging. Biting her lip and groaning when she can finally- finally, shove her hand down his pants, beneath his underwear, hard solid cock finally in her grasp as she barely manages to pull it free from his clothes.

“Fuck,”Gale grits out, a rare curse for the wizard- for once all other words but profanity failing him. His fingers in her cunt pause as she wraps her own around him. The hand on her ribs pulls her tighter, as she feels the heat of him against her palm. Can feel the weight of his cock, can trace the veins along his length as she runs her fingers over him- the stick of precum when she touches the head. Gale breathing rough and ragged against her temple.

“Gods, I can’t even get my fingers around you,” she blurts out, taking the rare chance to be the talkative one- surprised by just how thick he is in her hand. She’s no halfling or gnome, but her favorite wizard stands a good foot or more taller than her- size difference palpable in how her fingers struggle to meet around him.

He bites beneath her ear,rocking his fingers back into her- pace harsher and rough as she tries to stroke him. Smearing precum down his cock as best she can, trying to make an easier slide of her hand up and down his cock, feeling it twitch against her fingers. A rough ragged groan against her skin, her insides clenching as his fingers fuck into her- thoughts of how his cock will feel, how much more it’ll split her open, making the drag of his fingers that much slicker.

“So pretty in my arms, love- right where you belong, so sweet and desperate for me,” he rasps against her ear and she squeezes her fingers around him, feeling the stutter and stall in his hand inside of her. The strained growl against her jaw, his expression furrowed and tense- his jaw visibly clenched, eyes clenched shut. Perhaps the first time he’s fully taken his eyes off of her.

He doubles his efforts between her thighs, working his fingers more harshly into her, fucking his fingers roughly into her. Each thrust and drag along her insides making her sees stars and not just the ones he’s conjured for her. Pleasure spiking higher and higher, building her up- her cunt clenching around him. She tries to work her own hand faster too, cursing herself for not having more experience with this sort of anatomy.

And then a thought, a singular thought manages to surge above the fog his fingers have put into her mind. She needs it to be wetter, slicker, his precum helping but not enough for her liking. Her gestures are sloppy and messy, haphazard with need- pulling her hand off of him, he curses faintly, the feeling of his eyes back on her. She leans forward just a little to drool against her hand, gathering as much spit and saliva as she can, strands straining from her lips. Spit dribbling down her chin and she can only hope he’s not disgusted by the sight, but it’s left her hand wet. Another ragged breath, inhale and exhale against her as she wraps her spit slick fingers around him.

His lips surge forward, catching her own in a messy crash, teeth clanging together as he kisses her- his tongue swiping to catch the spit that clings to her her skin, hungrily groaning into her mouth. She tries to keep up, tightens her grip as much as she can without fearing hurting him, her hand sliding up and down much easier with the glide of her drool and his precum. The piss poor excuse for lube allowing her to at the very least move her hand faster, trying to match the pace he’s set with his fingers inside of her. His palm presses down more firmly, the heel of hand finding her clit. A rough tempest of pleasure jolting through her nerves.

And it’s a rough mix of kisses, moving hands. Being fucked apart by his fingers, grinding against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. A echoing squelch as he takes her apart, the wet slide of flesh against flesh as she strokes his cock- the hungry groans and soft sounds of their kisses, everything consuming her every sense. Pushing her closer and closer, coil pulling tighter, tighter. The drag and tease of him inside of her, the grind against her sensitive clit- the promise of what’s come with his cock twitching in her hand, the bite of his teeth against her lower lip.

The world seems to split apart, crack open, and fall away from her- everything crashed into pleasure, thrown over the edge again. Twitching and writhing beneath his hand, hips thrashing and fucking herself through the shocks. The faint curse and snarl against her lips, the twitch in her hands- the heat of seed spilling over her fingers and hip

Then she’s falling, world truly carrening out from beneath her, yelping as her ass thumps painfully into the muck. A sharp jolt of pain through her tailbone, Gale trying to tug her closer, squeezing her tightly as the world physically shifts around them, his face burying into her hair.

“Gods damn it.”

Petra tries to process the sudden mix of just plain fucking pain. The cold cling of mud to her ass, blinking through the blissed out fog in her mind- no longer coated in the green blue glow of a shifting sky. No longer is her ass burried in a soft silken mass of blankets and sheets, now aching in the cold cling of muddy shadow curse dirt. The only light a mounted torch with faint flickering orange flames. There’s no traces of Gale’s illusions, just him and Petra- naked and sweaty in a patch of mud. The wizard holding her tightly, his face hidden in the top of her head- possibly the most bashful she’s ever seen him, even in their awkward little flirting moments, she’s never known him to physically hide his expression from her.

“Gale… honey?” She says, using a rare term of endearment for her- those usually his territory.

“Mmhm,” he hums vaguely against her scalp.

“I have mud on my ass.”

“As do I.”

“Is there a particular reason why?” She tries, trying not to laugh as she tries to understand why he’s suddenly thrown them into the muck- if he wanted to rut in the dirt, she wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but it seems a little sudden and out of character for a man who still tries desperately to smell like lavender and bath oils while traipsing through the wilderness for days on end.

“Ah well,” he murmurs, finally pulling back and allows her to see his face- cheeks ruddy, sweat beading his skin, his eyes looking down at his slick wet fingers, “Some conjuring and illusionary spells require… concentration to be maintained. And while my multitasking abilities are certainly exemplary,that focus can be particularly hard to keep when…”

“When you’re getting jerked off?”

“Not the wording I would have chosen, but- yes,” he admits, still avoiding her eyes.

And she tries- she truly tries, biting her lip and gritting her teeth, because she wants to be mindful of his embarrassment. But her stomach tenses as a rush of laughter burbles out, snorting as giggles turn to cackles, pressing her hands to her mouth- body aching as she cracks up.

She made him cum so hard the fucking spell broke. It’s so ridiculous, it’s so asinine, she can’t help but laugh- the pain in her tailbone now eclipsed by way her belly aches in laughter. And it only dies when she looks back at Gale, his head bowed slightly still- his eyes avoiding her and guilt eats at her heart. A part of her having hoped he’d be laughing along, that he’d see the humor in this.

“Gale..” She whispers his name, her voice a little ragged and rough.

“My apologies, I- this is not how I wanted this night to go for us, for you,” he explains, face far too contrite and shamed for what is just a silly little mishap, “I think, perhaps, another night if I conserve more of my energy during the day than I did today, I should be able to maintain the illusions for longer.”

“Gale…”

“Or perhaps, I can do just a little more research, see if I can find variations that require less concentration or maybe none at all,” he prattles onward, “I swear, my love, I can give you the night you deserve, I just may need more preparation than I expected, but I will make this up to you, I’ll-”

“Gale!” She yells his name more firmly, finally looking at her- his eyes soft and vulnerable and she feels like she’s scolded a puppy but she leans forward to cup his face, “There is nothing for you to make up for.”

“We’re lying in mud, my dear.”

“Yes, we are lying in the mud and my stomach is streaked in cum because I jerked you off so hard you forgot how to be wizard for a minute- I’m not mad, it’s really fucking funny,” she reiterates, nuzzling his nose with hers as she tries to swallow her giggles- desperately trying to get him to just laugh. His lips curl into a shadow of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach those big brown eyes.

“Perhaps- but I didn’t bring you here to make you laugh, I brought you here to give you a perfect night, to make the joining of our bodies as beautiful as the joining of our souls. And we are lying in mud, you deserve more… I want to give you more.”

“Gale, the night we joined souls you started off by showing me a book of people sixty-nining.”

“A very poignant and beautiful book about newlyweds becoming one in every sense of the word-”

“By putting their mouths on each other’s genitals.”

“That was one aspect of the process, yes- however-”

She silences him with a kiss, soft and chaste- just enough to muffle the words threatening to pour from his lips. Petra pulls just a half breath away, leaning her forehead against Gale’s. Feeling the warmth of him, the cling of the sweat on both of them, smelling the salt of it on him.

“I love you,” she murmurs, whispers it and hopes he can feel the adoration she pours into every syllable, meeting his gaze head on as her voice cracks, “I love you so fucking much and you’re so so much more than I deserve- and if you cannot believe that, trust that I do, that I truly mean it.”

“I do, I truly do, I just, everything you’ve done for me, everything that you are- you deserve the world.”

“And yet the only thing I want from it is you.”

“Petra…”

“So, for a moment, worry less about what you think I deserve and listen to what I want,” she asks, murmuring against his lips, skimming her thumb over his cheekbone, “I don’t need perfection and I don’t need pageantry and I don’t care if it’s messy or funny or weird- I want you, I need you. So please, let me have you. Don’t pull away, don’t scuttle off and worry yourself to pieces because something went wrong. Laugh with me, kiss me, fuck me- gods damn it.”

“Anything for you, dear,” he says and their lips come together again, another reverent press of their mouths- she places her palm against his shoulder, pushing softly.

Quick witted as ever, he gets the idea- laying back for her and shifting off of his side, onto his ass properly as she throws a leg over his hips. His still hard cock bumping against her cunt as she settles on top of him. Breaking their kiss to pepper them across his jaw, nipping at his flesh through his beard, kissing down the marks that curl across his neck. Following them to the middle of his chest, where the orb burned through his flesh- pressing a kiss where the skin is forever bruised blue. The deep rumble of a groan in his throat making heat rush between her thighs.

She sits back a bit, looking down at him- sweat tangled hair, ruddy cheeks, chest laid bare beneath her, and the faint orange glow of the torch light. Her hands run up his chest, thick and broad beneath her- body hair the roughest part of him, scratching beneath her palms.

“Absolutely perfect,” she whispers, raking her nails along the swell of his pecs.

“My thoughts exactly,” he returns, his hands gripping her hips as he smears a thumb through the streaks of cum still on her skin, and she can’t resist rolling her eyes- as if she wasn’t the one to initiate this round of corniness.

Through the flickers of amber light, she notices a flash of deep purple fabric- Gale’s sleep shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. She lifts up a little further on her knees, leaning over him to reach for it, twisting her fingers in the soft fabric.

“Eep!” She yelps at the sudden heat of his tongue and mouth on her chest, a sharp nip to the underside of her breast- “That is not why I was leaning over!”

He smiles and laughs against her chest as she playfully swats at his chest, settling back to her position- his tunic still dangling from her fingers. Gale smiling up at her, too handsome for her to feel any measure of malice.

“You can hardly blame for falling to temptation, especially when it comes to you.”

“You underestimate just how much I’m willing to blame you for anything,” she teases before shifting forward just slightly- “Lift your back up a bit for me?”

“Of course,” he obliges, quickly getting her intent as they softly arrange his sleep shirt on the ground- it’s no four poster bed, but it’ll get his back out of the mud.

“Not much, but-”

“I feel positively pampered.”

“Well, I do live to spoil you,” she teases back, considering for a moment wrangling his pants and underwear down further- his cock still the only thing that’s freed. But, that also means his ass has a modicum of coverage against the mud. Spoiling him again- obviously.

Petra keeps one hand steady on his chest and the other reaches beneath her, feeling again the heat and weight of his cock in her hand. She hums, whines as she steadies her grip around the base of him- a groan deep in his chest, rumbling beneath her as she drags the head of his cock along her cunt. Her body aches with need as she lines him up with her entrance, Gale's hands grip her tighter. His fingers dip into her skin as his breath hitches and his jaw clenches tight.

And she sinks down, her voice straining into a wordless cry as the head of his cock slides into her. Barely even inside of her and already stretching her wide, even having had him in her hand, but she needs to take a moment- not expecting just how much she’d be split open.Not painful, far too slick and ready for it to do anything feel incredible, if just a little new for her.

A strained creak in his tone: “That’s it, no rush- take your time, if it’s too much, you only need to say the word.”

“Gods no, no, it feels good- really fuckin’ good,” she assure him, voice rough and breathy, biting her lip as she starts to slowly lower herself down further, “So, so fucking good, fuck.”

“There you are, taking me so well- perfect around me, like you were made for me,” he praises, voice gritted and his fingers grasping her tighter as her cunt clenches around him, the adoration stirring her insides as his cock buries within them.

Every inch a deeper press, a tighter stretch, never painful but always full- like he could truly split her apar at any moment. But it’s never too much, the drag and sink of him perfect, absolutely perfect. A babble of breathless noise and nonsense on her tongue as she he carves a path into her- her hips finally settling when she’s about to scream out and there’s no more of him to take. Feeling the faint scratch of his body hair where they join, barely tugged down pants rough against her thighs and ass.

The back of his head hits the dirt, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat- his eyes closed as his moves just slightly beneath her. Bracing his feet in the dirt, knees bending slightly as his hips lift up. Bucking inside of her, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure ripping through her- lurching her forward body forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she cries out.

“Fuck!”

“Ah, sorry, are you-”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m good, gods, I’m good,” she rushes to assure him, digging her nails into his skin, leaning forward to kiss at his jaw, groaning against his skin when it grinds him against her insides.

Tentatively, she starts to rock herself on top of him, cursing as she starts to lift off him just a bit, whining at the drag of him inside of her. His hands allowing her to move, guiding her gently despite the harsh dig of his nails, digging red ragged crescents into her skin- blue bruises forming beneath his harsh touch.

Petra barely pulls up before she lowers herself back down, his name on her lips as she’s filled with him again. Her grip on him only growing more desperate- more bruising, as she starts to find a harsher, quicker pace- bouncing herself on his cock, body thrumming and pleasure twisting tight as she tries to slam down hard enough on him. Tries to hit the right spot inside of her, grind her clit just right against his skin as she tries to set her pace. Her motions frantic and desperate, smearing and streaking slick across his skin and clothes, every desperate slam of her hips making her that much wetter, that much more accommodating, body frantic to welcome him into her over and over again.

“Gods, your cunt doesn’t even want to let go of me, look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” he groans, her inside clenching at his choice of words, Gale’s cheeks flushed beneath the dark hair of his beard- his face screwed tight with his pleasure as his cock twitches inside of her squeezing walls. Petra in a frenzy as she fucks herself stupid, rides him as hard as she can, getting pushed closer and closer to the brink- pathetically close to her end, just a little more, a little more.

His hands move further back, curling around her ass, sinking his fingers into the plush flesh- her whimpering at the grope, the feeling of his warm digging into her- squeezing her so tightly. Harsh and firm, when hips roll into her, thrusting in as she sinks down- striking the very nerves she couldn't quite hit hard enough, a torrent of heat and need, stars dancing before her eyes without any magic. The force of his hips jolts her, her shaky arms giving out, her body collapse flush to his chest, nails digging into him as her face presses into his sweat slick skin. Pliant and boneless as Gale takes over the pace, gripping his ass tight between his hands and steadying her as he fucks her apart.

And it’s pitiful how much better it is with him in control, Gale knowing her body and what she needs or perhaps just that much better at giving it to her. Harsh brutal snaps of his hips, every rut of him into her making her body thrum, her mind blanked with every strike at her deepest parts. Carving her out, splitting her open, burying himself into her over and over again- the wet squelch of him into her. Holding her vise tight to his chest, her sensitive tits scratched by his body hair a his motions rock and shift her against him. One hand leaving her ass to wrap around her middle, holding her tighter, clinging closer- his face buried to her temple as he fucks into her, uses her, splits her insides, and makes her body fit hims so perfectly. Not even able to hear or comprehend the whispers and praise whispered against her sweat tangled hair- gripping him tighter, Gale inside her and yet somehow nowhere near close enough. Not able to cling tight enough, not able to burrow far enough into his skin as she burns beneath the sharp bruising pace he drives into her.

Then it all snaps, world shattering and cracking apart, crying out against his chest- mind empty with nothing but pleasure, clenching tight as he pulses inside of her. Squeezing around him, thrashing within his grasp, toes and fingers clenching- curling against him, around him, into him.

A few more harsh thrusts, rushed and hurried into her, followed by a rush of heat. The spill of cum into her insides, burning hot in her cunt, filling her- flooding her, warm in her fucked raw body. She pants and sighs against his skin, breaths rough as she comes back to earth and with no falling this time. He holds her like a promise, tight and reverent, kissing across her scalp and forehead as he rolls through the last of his ebbs of pleasure. Messy as he fills her with his cum, whining against his flesh, she feels it split out between the space where they connect. Filled to the brink with him, overflowed and spilling over with it, feeling it stick and cling to their thighs, their hips, where they meet. The languid slowly roll of him into her fucking his seed back into her, before his hips finally still as the last drop fills hers her, only to drip out again.

They lay in the flickering torch light, skin wet with sweat and settling into each other’s flesh. His heart thunders and pounds beneath his skin, where her ear is pressed tight to him. Able to hear the desperate race and her own hammers in kind, in pace with each other, some relief that may be as ruined and ragged by her as she is by him. Only the sound of thundering hearts and them catching their breath, the faintest chirp of insects from the shadows.

Slowly, steadily, the moments tick forward but time hardly feels like it’s touching them. Only the calming of their breaths and hearts marking the passage. His hands stroke and rub along her back, tracing her sweaty spine, both reach down to idly rub and stroke her lower back, pressing gentle reverence into her aching muscles. His lips burning adoration where they kiss her scalp, skim the scar of her forehead- she shifts to tuck her chin against his chest, looking up at his soft loving gaze.

His hands push the hair off her forehead, cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the freckles that mark her face. A breath of a kiss against her forehead, her eyes closing beneath the touch.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he praises, her eyes opening, her nose wrinkling as she blows a raspberry at him and his stupidly precious compliments- he laughs, “And a complete brat.”

“Hmm, you love it.”

“That I do,” he reponds to her teasing, another kiss and she meets his his lips. Sighing softly, knowing they can’t stay like this forever.

Gently, she sits herself back up,Gale’s hands roaming down her sides- not missing the crease of disappointment in his brow when she’s no longer pressed flushed to his chest. She blinks, swallowing a gasp as she looks down at him. Rough raised scratches now mark his chest, thin red lines where her nails streaked his flesh and just managed to break it. Gently, her nails brush the marks.

“Sorry, I’ll rub some salve and balsam ointment over it for you when we get back,” she promises, guilt creeping in- her nails are polished and due to her left, often have more dirt on them than she’d like- she could cause him an infection, “Maybe I should learn a healing cantrip or two…”

“Thought you believed relying too much on healing magic was a crutch,” he asks, smiling up at her as he chimes the words she’s spoken so many a times when him or Shadowheart try to heal her when she only needs a bandage or a few dozen stitches.

“I mean, for me, yes,” she murmurs, knowing it’s hypocritical- but it’s different when it’s him- he smiles, placing his hands over hers. She pulls her palms from his marked skin, bringing them to the press of his lips.

“Worry not, dear- I hardly mind being marked by you,” he promises her, smiling against her knuckles and her nose wrinkles, his sweet words stirring her heart and only one response falls to her lips.

“Blegh,” she spats, mock gagging at his corny existence, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart thumping- he drops her hands, reaching out quick and giving a small sharp swat of his hand to her ass- “Ah, hey!”

“Do not make gagging noises whilst I am inside of you,” he hisses, voice raised and incredulous- with just the softest edge of a laugh, his lips pulling back to a smile as she giggles.

“Fine,” she reponds, rolling laguidly off of him- letting his cock slip out of her and plopping into the mud beside of him, giving a pointed look- “Blech!”

“Darling-”

“What I’ll no longer gag while you’re inside of me,” she promises, teasing him and his choice of words. His brown eyes rolls, a tut on his lips as he looks at her, before a different glint places.

“Well, there can certainly be exceptions to the rule, should you wish,” he teases and after a beat, his meaning catches her- a way he’d be tucked inside of her that he’d accept her gagging, the idea of tasting him, and feeling him in her throat…

“Is that something you’d wish?” She asks back, smiling a little- grin only widing when he clears his throat.

“Another time, right now…” His voice trails and she watches him shift slight, a a little strained groan of pain his throat.

“Your back killing you?”

“Terribly so,” he admits, shaking his head and starting to sit up with a small grunt- his old achey muscles and joints always giving him issues. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling her over, tucking her into his lap as he sits; “Here, lets get you out out of the mud, dear.”

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck as he make her plop her cum and dirt streaked ass in his lap. And as the afterglow fades and reality settles in her bones, she starts to realize some increasingly pressing concerns. The two are streaked in sweat, mud, and fluids. Her fingers brushing flecks of dirt off Gale’s shoulders, where his skin still met the dirt. His hair messy and tangled with little clumps of dirt, his skin warm and smelling of sweat and musk, Petra unable to help inhaling against his chest.

Beneath them, his shirt is caked in mud, grinding into the dirt under their bodies. His only kind of on pants streaked with cum, clearly stained, dirt on back of it. Her own clothes are tossed in the dirt as well, having hit the dirt through the illusion. Mud on her back and some clinging to her ass, streaked where his fingers groped her- a mess of cum between her thighs.

And they do have to go back to camp.

“Uhm, do you have a spell to clean us and our clothes?” She asks, traces her nails over his neck.

“Yes and no,” he explains, expression slightly tense, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating with a pointed finger, “Prestidigitation can quite easily clean our clothes, with a bit of folding for mine perhaps, and is cantrip as well- fairly simple, only lasts an hour I”m afraid, but that would certainly be long enough to get back and safely tuck ourselves away in our tent.”

“Mmhm..”

“However, it is specific to objects and those of a certain footage, which- you and I do not qualify as. And between our fights of the day and my illusionary work, it’ll take a good nights rest before I can cast much more than a cantrip, so…”

“So, our clothes will be clean, but we’ll be traipsing back with dirt on our skin and reeking of sex,” she double checks because there’s no river near the clearing- the camp using warmed basins of conjured magic for a while now. Which are back at camp. Where their companions are.

“Or we could stay here for a night…”

“And keep tally of the number of shadow cursed insects that inevitably crawl up our assholes.”

“There are the bugs…”

“I think we may have to face the music on this one,” she says, knowing sculking and sneaking back to camp is not a choice- not with Gale’s knees.

“Alas, reality returns far too soon,” he muses, looking down at her where she’s still balanced within his arms and her cheek to his chest, “Still the night you wanted?”

She giggles- they’re caked in mud, sweat, and cum. Sitting in the muck of a cursed lands, the threat of returning to camp to prying eyes and questioning voices. The only reason they can even safely sit here with monsters prying flesh from their limbs and darkness creeping into their souls is the blessing of a captured pixie. Demands of goddesses and moonstruck kingdoms ran by cults all on the horizon. But his arms are wrapped flush around her, the smell of his skin in her nose, the ache of where he was inside her. Skin marked in his love.

“It’s perfect.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale/fem!tav #bg3 fanfic #this is also going up on my ao3 and i'll reblog with the link if anyone prefers that method #but i finally had something I could throw on this blog again

84 notes · View notes