#i wonder if he looks at them & sees himself—both the past & the present—all at once

[hooned]

riki when he saw a child engene in the crowd ⭐

#enhypen #enhypenet #*jelly's #nishimura riki #riki #his giggles when he saw the kid with his picket #the way he looked around coz he knew he was not allowed to jump off #but did it anyway #oh im so .... i love him so much oh my god #like i wonder if he sees himself in the eyes of every child in the crowd #if he’s reminded of the times he was looking at the stage; seeds of a bright dream budding & growing #i wonder if he looks at them & sees himself—both the past & the present—all at once #he's always so gentle towards child fans like #always looks at them with tenderness and loving eyes... he has so much love to give #oh riki you will always be loved by me

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

—PART FIVE

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

notes: gotta keep writing to feed the simps.

PART ONE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

Lucifer sat in his office chair, pen on one hand as he finally did the paperwork that he was procrastinating on for... A few months now, but anyways.

He was deep in thought, the fountain pen fluidly moving along with his hand as he signed the documents. Mind wandering, dissociating even.

He has a lot to think about considering that the next extermination is coming in a few days.

His eyes landed on his right hand, ring finger bare of any rings. He smiled proudly to himself, it took some work to actually remove his wedding ring and he finally did, his divorce doesn't hurt as much as it used to be. He has a lot to work on, his heart, his mind, and his actions.

He's happy that he stopped staying stuck in the past and now, he's ready to move forward. He has let go of Lilith, as the woman wanted. But he'll never forget [y/n], despite the distance and lack of communication, he still thinks of her as his best friend and he's glad she never stopped thinking of him too.

Lucifer sighs, a small smile on his face. Smiling at the thought of her. His hand once again moved gracefully along the paper, ink rolling off the tip of the pen as he signed his signature.

He misses [y/n], he longs to hug her so much.

Knock, knock.

He flinches at the sound of the front door being knocked, the sounds echoing off the castle walls. He lives alone after all, so the palace is deathly silent.

Lucifer groans, rolling his eyes.

It's probably another solicitor or another sinner wanting to have an audience with him.

Choosing to ignore it and continue with his work.

Knock, knock, knock.

There it is again, the annoying sound of someone knocking on his front door.

He exhaled, continuing his work.

They'll go away if I ignore them, just like always.

He mutters to himself, huffing in annoyance as he works.

[y/n] huffs to herself, crossing her arms around her chest. She's been knocking for a few minutes now and nobody answered.

I wonder if he's home?

She thought, standing outside the door. Hand running over the skirt of her light blue dress.

She waits for a few minutes, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm down her beating heart. Mentally practicing what she wants to say to him when she sees him.

Bringing her hand back up, forming into a tight knuckle. She knocked once more.

Knock, knock, knock.

It took so much patience for him not to break the fountain pen on his hand. Lucifer gently brought down the pen on to his table. Bringing both his hands towards his mouth and nose as he exhaled exasperatedly. Closing his eyes, eye twitching a little.

I stand corrected, this sinner is persistent.

Taking a deep breath, he finally stood up from his chair, grumbling as he left his office. Going down the stairs.

Finally arriving at the front door of his, fixing his clothes to look presentable to whoever is at the other side. Raising his guard up as he doesn't trust other sinners.

Finally opening the door, eyes closed in annoyance. “Yeah, yeah. Who's there...” his voice died down when he opened his eyes again to see a familiar angel standing on his doorway, [y/n] looking at him awkwardly, waving her hand at him shyly.

Did he go insane without realizing?

[y/n] is standing on his doorway wearing a cute light blue short dress that reaches beneath her knees, halo no longer on her head but he can tell she used it as an accessory based on the golden bracelet on her wrist. She looked as beautiful as the day he last saw her. Though, he had a tint of worry as he noticed the bandages on her arms and knees. What happened to her?

Is this a hallucination?

“[y/n]...?” he asked hesitantly, afraid that she'll disappear and afraid she's just a fragment of his imagination.

[y/n] smiled, heart beating loudly against her chest. Lucifer stood in front of her. The white suit with red accents really fits him, he's just as beautiful as she last saw him, more even.

He is really here.../She is really here...

Finally deciding to break the silence between them, [y/n] smiled at him, “It has been awhile, Lucifer.”

Her voice was enough to snap him from his thoughts and without thinking, he leaped into her arms and hugged her. Tears finally streaming down his pale cheeks. The action causing both of them to fall into the floor.

The warmth of his embrace around her was also enough for [y/n] to silently cry. She misses him so much, so many years spent without him made her incredibly so lonely.

Lucifer grips into her waist, burying his face at the crook of her neck as he sobbed.

Lucifer wonders if this was a dream at first but he was able to inhale the familiar perfume she always wore and it was enough to make him cry even more.

It felt like the universe finally listened to his pleas. He was just thinking that he misses her so much a few minutes ago and then suddenly she's in his door step.

“[y/n].... You're really here... Wait...” his eyes widened as he finally removed himself from her warm embrace, holding her arms gently.

“Why are you here...?” he asked softly, voice hoarse from crying. [Y/n] wiped her eyes with her hand but he stopped her as Lucifer summoned a clean handkerchief and gently wiped the tears off her cheeks.

[y/n] smiled weakly, “I fell.” she says with a small giggle. Lucifer deadpans, eyes blinking not simultaneously. He stood up and offered a hand to her to help her stand in which she gladly accepted.

“What do you mean you fell? When?” he asked worriedly, [y/n] smiled softly as she placed a hand over his cheek. Thumb running over the red circle on his cheek adoringly.

“I have a lot to tell you but I fell... A few days ago... Charlie found me and she treated me during it all.” [y/n] explained softly, his eyes widening. Why didn't Charlie tell him?

[y/n] can practically hear the question based on his facial expression, she smiles. “Don't get mad at Charlie, I asked her not to tell you...” she says, avoiding eye contact.

He frowns, leaning towards her so he cups her cheeks, his other hand on her chin. He tilts her head so she's finally looking at him.

“Why...? I... I could've helped you...” he asked, voice trembling. Guilty for not being there for her in her most time of need. [Y/n] gently removed his hands from her face, squeezing it assuringly.

“Because I don't want our reunion to be a sad one, I can't bear to see you so sad and I don't want you to see how bad my situation was...” she explained softly, her thumb rubbing circles in his hand. He can only imagine what happened to her based on her injuries. She's right, he might not function properly if he saw her so injured.

Lucifer sighs, shoulders dropping as he understands her explanation. But still, he wished he could've helped her more.

“But hey, I'm here now and there's a lot that we needed to catch up on. Don't you think?” [y/n] says with a giggle, a small smile on her face. Lucifer could feel his cheeks burning up as he looked at her beautiful smiling face.

Lucifer closes his eyes as a grin finally finds its way to his handsome face, “You're right, you got a lot of explanation to do.” he says, offering his hand to her in which she accepted. He pulls her inside the palace, finally closing the door behind them.

Currently, the two are in his room just catching up with one another. Lucifer's hands shined a golden glow over her arms, his angelic powers helping her heal. He listened intently as [y/n] explained what happened to her.

His heart thumped loudly against his chest as he listened how she defended hell and how she finally got under Sera's skin that led to her fall from grace.

“You really did that...?” he asked softly, his hand working gently with her arm as he unwrapped the bandages around her arm. Her arm finally healed after helping her. [Y/n] smiled softly and nodded, “I made a promise to help Charlie and Sera hid the yearly cleansing from the other angels. It was revealed during Charlie's meeting and I was mad.” [y/n] explained to him, his gentle eyes looking up at her as he healed her arm. “I said some things to her and got her mad and I was placed in a trial in which I ended up guilty.”

Lucifer frowns, softly placing down her hand onto her lap. “I wished I was there to help you.” he says softly to her and [y/n] smiled and patted his head.

“It's alright, what's done is done. What matters the most is that I'm here now...” she says, bringing her hand up to cup his cheeks.

“Yeah... But, I hope you know that I appreciate what you did for hell...” he says, nuzzling his face against the palm of her hand. Eyes half-lidded as he looked at her.

“I know and I'll do it again. I believe that the sinners deserve a second chance.” she says, her eyes landing on the many piles of rubber ducks in his room.

“On the sidenote, I see you haven't gotten over your love for ducks.” [y/n] giggles, his cheeks exploding into a bright shade of red as he felt a little embarrassed.

“I can't help it. They're just so cute.” he says with a small pout making [y/n] laugh softly.

“Don't be embarrassed about it, I'm just glad you haven't changed much.” she says smiling at him.

His eyes widened slightly and then he smiled, “I am glad that you haven't changed too.”

[y/n] smiles, turning her head to look around his room. Seeing the portraits of his family on the wall, they looked so happy. She's a little jealous.

“You and Lilith huh?” she teases him slightly, Lucifer flinches slightly and avoids her gaze. “Well... Used to, we've divorced each other seven years ago.” he says, finally looking at her.

[y/n]'s eyes widened, a frown on her face. She felt guilty bringing the topic up. “Oh... I didn't know, I'm sorry.” she says softly, her voice held a tone of regret. Lucifer smiled and shook his head, “Don't be, it was for the best.” he explained, “We just stopped loving each other, that's all.”

“How about we change the topic?” he suggested with a smile and [y/n] nodded, “Since you're here now... Do you plan to stay at the hotel or here with me?” he asked softly to her.

[y/n] blushes softly, the idea of being alone with Lucifer in a large palace seems so.... Intimate. Lucifer's cheeks also burned slightly as he realized what he just asked.

“Staying here with you? Won't I disturb you from your work?” she asked hesitantly, Lucifer shakes his head no.

“No, no, no... You would never be a disturbance to me [n/n]... I would be glad if you stayed here...” he spoke so softly, eyes pleading for her to accept.

[y/n] smiles, she can practically read him like a book. Despite being years apart, their connection never faded.

“Alright, since you looked like you're begging me to stay.” she giggled softly, looking at him with so much fondness.

Lucifer can only stare at her face, she's looking at him like he's the most beautiful being in the universe.

Don't look at me like that, I don't want to fall too fast.

Lucifer blushes slightly, clearing his throat. “I just miss you, that's all.” he says, avoiding her gaze making her chuckle, “I've missed you too.” she says softly.

“I am really happy to see you again, it's been so long.” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her. “I am so happy to be back in your arms...” she murmurs back to him. Lacing her hand with his with him squeezing her hand gently in return.

They have a lot of catching up to do, a lot of feelings to uncover.

END NOTES: the handholding before marriage finally happened lmfaoo 😭 also imma try not to make their relationship fast paced okay, awkward friends to lovers idk. This chapter feels shorter than usual, meh.

TAGLIST I:

@selvyyr @leo4242564 @blushhpeachh @lunanight1021 @dvc4 @nehy019 @lu-ferri12 @lilteamushroom @froggybich @eddiemunson4ever @who-let-me-write-this @gurutan27 @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @hcneyiced @valerie-36 @jovialcat123 @b0nn1e @raeinn @wally-darling-hyperfixation @faefanatic @trashbin-nie @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @hxzbinwrites @snoozewritezz @juskonutoh @mayhimouto513 @hcneyiced @koirb @viylikescats @ren-ren23 @kouyoumarryme @dou-dou @thatsquitepoggers

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lxkeee answers #lucifer morningstar #lxkeee updates #“MLIMAM” — LUCIFER X READER

[soupandsimple]

Pretty, Like… (With James Potter)

[ little Harry meeting his new baby sister after you come home from the hospital ]

* f l u f f 🥰

** includes godfather Sirius Black; indirect mention of Lily (and it’s not positive sooo..)

This was requested: see the ask here

…………….

“Watch your step dove,” James said as he held the car door open for you with one hand and the baby carrier in the other.

You had just arrived home from the hospital after the birth of your baby girl but that had nothing to do with your husband being so cautious with you- that was just an all the time James thing.

You smiled at him once you were out of the car and stepped aside so he could close the door.

“Ahhhh!”

“Well, I think I hear Haz” James chuckled at the sound of a muffled shriek.

Looking to the living room window you see little Harry’s hands and excited face smushed up against the glass.

Harry was five years old but he wasn’t your biological son; the story with his real mother is one you don’t care to tell. It involves her, her past lover and death and that’s where you liked to leave it at.

“My babyyy, I missed him so much!” you said with your hands at your heart. As it almost always goes, he wasn’t your biological son but you loved that boy more than anything. The little girl in the carrier might be your first birthed child but she was not what you considered your first child.

Having made your way to the front door, you heard all three of your locks rattle undone and braced yourself for Harry’s high volume welcome.

“Mummy! Daddy! Can I see her?! Can I see her?!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and down at the sight of you both.

His godfather Sirius stood behind him and shook his head in disbelief. “Those sugary breakfast cereals are tasty and he eats them without complaints but you tell me, is it worth it?” he joked, pointing to the bouncing boy with a faux pensive look.

You giggled at the comment and looked down at Harry. “Yes you can see her but let’s get inside first, okay?” you said with a boop to his nose.

Harry nodded and ran to the living room couch sitting himself nice and straight on the cushion, legs drumming excitedly as he waited for James to bring the carrier over with his new sister.

“Okay Haz, you ready?” James asked, setting the carrier down on the coffee table after Sirius removed two cereal-less, milk filled bowls and took them to the kitchen.

“Yes! Yes!”

“I present to you….Hazel Potter!” James enthused, swiping the blanket away from the front of the carrier like a magician.

Hazel squinted her eyes upon the feel of the newfound light, took one glance at Harry, yawned then closed her eyes again and slightly squirmed back to sleep.

Harry squealed and his hands instantly shot out to, what you assume, grab Hazel’s tiny fisted ones but James stopped him before he got the chance to. “Whoa buddy, gentle, gentle. She’s trying to sleep. We can look at her but let’s let her rest for now.”

Harry groaned a little but smiled when he looked down at Hazel again.

“Mama, she’s so tiny but so big also! I can’t believe she was in your tummy” he commented, voice full of wonder and astonishment.

“Your mum is a real life superwoman, don’t you ever forget that” James told Harry with a gentle ruffle to his hair.

“I won’t!” Harry replied, biting down on his lip to admire Hazel some more.

You gifted James a smile of appreciation as he put his arm around you and kissed your temple.

Although it had been a healthy birth, it still hadn’t been an easy thing for you. You’d always been afraid of pregnancy and all it entailed and James knew that. You braved through a lot these past nine months and he’d never take that for granted for as long as he’d live. But truthfully, fear aside, being able to give your little Harry a sibling and James a second child had without a doubt been one of the greatest pleasures you’ve had in life (along with being James Potter’s wife and the person who Harry called mama of course).

“Hey hey, what do you think of the new sister Haz?” Sirius asked Harry, drying his hands against his pants as he came back into the living room, bending little ways over to take a peek at the little bundle of a baby in the carrier.

Harry smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I barely know her...but she is very pretty, like a bakery bread.”

A bakery bread. He was talking about the loaves of bread you and James purchased at the bakery every Saturday morning. Yes … bread.

Sirius cackled and clapped his hands at Harry’s comparison while James failed to suppress a smile as he nodded and squinted his eyes at his son.

“Well that’s very nice of you to say. She is really pretty huh, like a bakery bread” you repeated lovingly, with one hand laying flat against James’s chest.

Harry nodded and giggled at how his words sounded coming from someone else.

“Can we go put her in the crib so she can be better?” Harry then asked.

“That’s a great idea baby, she’ll be a lot more comfortable there won’t she” you praised, understanding exactly what he meant by better.

James removed himself from your side and grabbed the handle of the carrier to pick it up. “C’mon then, let’s go show baby bread her bread box” James joked for his son’s amusement.

Harry of course instantly laughed with joy and ‘helped’ James by placing his small hands at the back of the carrier on the walk up the stairs, meanwhile Sirius thoughtfully stayed behind to accompany you at your slower pace; ever since you’d first met him, he had always acted like such a big brother to you and you loved it.

“You know, I’ve watched those two dote on you endlessly these past three years but by the looks of it, you’re going to have to start sharing them with little Ms. Hazel Potter now” Sirius teased. “She’s beautiful by the way.”

“Well thank you…. and as for the sharing, I’m not going to mind one bit” you replied blissfully. <3

#james potter x reader #dad!james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter imagine

[shantechni]

I think an awful lot about Splinter believing in the start of the series that he'd lost his humanity.

For the sake of someone named Pete, I will go through the events in chronological order for once-

In Lone Rat and Cubs, Splinter tells the turtles about their time spent running from the Kraang before they found their forever home, and we learn that Splinter didn't easily slip into his new role. Sure, he cared for the turtles, kept them fed and sheltered them from the elements, but he still called them "creatures" and "turtles" before naming them. He didn't see this as an opportunistic situation where he miraculously became a father to a second batch of kids, but rather that he'd fallen into a pool of misfortune and would need to live with this new form while protecting himself and the turtles.

"What terrible deed did I do in a past life that such a curse has befallen me?"

As he considers the turtles' growth and the possibility of a future with them, he then begins to view himself as a potential father. He explains that he wondered if he had the discipline to be a proper father, especially after the loss of his first family, and he realizes it was something he wanted to be regardless of discipline or odd circumstances.

And so, he claims the turtles as his own, and accepts his role as their father.

Though he'd grown accustomed to being a mutant rat over the years, he still draws a line between "Hamato Yoshi" and "Splinter" without knowing it, albeit a blurry and ephemeral one drawn in ever changing sand.

We hear Splinter in the second episode of the series talking about the loss of his family, his home, and his own name. He more or less tells Leo that being mutated erased whatever connection he formally had to the name "Hamato," and the idea is further supported by a similar and more somber scene in I, Monster. Splinter fights off the Rat King's control as he again laments that his entire clan and family, even his humanity, is gone, and he has nothing but the turtles left for him in this new life. Fortunately, he retains his sense of self post mutation, and he's presented from the beginning of the series as one who's in control of himself, both to his sons and friends of theirs, as well as any enemy that comes their way.

However, that presentation of control gives us a bit of a look into his psyche and allows us to consider the idea of him still struggling to come to terms with not being human anymore.

With the introduction of the Rat King, he's taunted by a potential loss of that control for the first time and it shakes him to his core. It makes sense for him to be shaken up since all that'd be left without him is a mindless, humanoid rat who'd lost touch with the human it used to be. Which is why it's so compelling that his sons, particularly Leo, are so adamant about reinforcing the fact that his mutation doesn't erase who he is. It's incredibly noteworthy what Leo says to him when trying to break the Rat King's control over him, "Remember who you are!"

Not who he once was, or the human he used to be, but who he is.

They never viewed Splinter as a separate being from Hamato Yoshi.

The boys aren't strangers to Splinter's old life before them, and they're very much aware of everything he'd lost; the guy talks about certain things frequently enough for them to know his tragedies and recite them without skipping a letter. It's his recollections of the tribulations he suffered through that helped them understand that his life with them is undeniably disconnected from his life with Tang Shen, but not unrelated.

He's still Hamato Yoshi, and his place will always be with his family.

Having been defeated by Splinter, the Rat King runs to find another way of tormenting him, and his perfect target is fear.

Though we got a brief look into this during their first encounter with Falco's twisted appearance, it's not until Of Rats and Men that we get further insight into another layer of Splinter's concern with his rat half: the repercussions that could result from the loss of control.

Throughout all of his years of raising his sons, not once did he ever treat them with the intention to frighten them and make them wary of his every move. The Rat King can easily use that fear to his advantage and weaken Splinter's mental stability enough to figure out how to make mutants similar to him. And he truly makes use of that fear by turning Splinter into his personal puppet.

There's still a considerable amount of concern on the turtles' end that pierces through that fear though. After Splinter teleports across the room to distance himself, Leo looked ready to leap to his side, and the others, despite being threatened literal seconds earlier, remain where they are and are equally concerned.

Eventually, the Rat King strikes again and everyone begins to piece together what's going on when Splinter loses it. Mikey is absolutely terrified and staggered by what happened, and Raph and Donnie tread with caution while Leo and April are the first ones to approach Splinter.

The TV gives them extra confirmation that Falco is back, and to everyone's surprise, Splinter refuses to help them fight Falco, even when Casey is dragged down a manhole by one of the mutated rats in their first attempt to clear the streets. It's not an easy choice for Splinter to make because we see how guilty he feels for his refusal, but the gang doesn't fault him for refusing either. No matter how much they want for Splinter to join them, he's right to worry about what the Rat King, now stronger than before, could force him to do.

April speaks for everyone though when she tells him they all believe in him. They make it known that they aren't afraid of what may happen, and they especially aren't afraid of him.

Unsurprisingly, Splinter changes his mind at the last minute, and, with the help of a recently mutated cat, he chases Falco down to deal with him once and for all. Protecting his family takes priority over his doubts, and by the end of the episode, he overcomes his fear of the Rat King controlling him.

He has his humanity, and that's what makes him different from the rat Falco constantly made him out to be.

And for the first time in the series, in The Lonely Mutation of Baxter Stockman, he says out loud that he has his humanity and is thankful he's fortunate enough to still have it when others lose it post mutation.

I previously went a bit more in depth about it in this post but the boys have witnessed Splinter grappling with being a rat, particularly with the Rat King's meddling, and Donnie sincerely believed giving him retromutagen would be something he'd want. This was clearly an idea that's been weighing on Donnie's mind for a while considering that he seemingly kept quiet about his plan until he completed the retromutagen, and he's the most upset when he has to use the remaining dosage for Kirby.

But Splinter tells him and the other turtles he's content as he is and wouldn't do anything to change himself this far in. And the boys all seem content with his answer.

With the invasion of the Kraang and his defeat at the hands of the Shredder, Splinter again comes face to face with his mutated genes, and there's no Rat King stringing him along this time. He'd been swallowed by delirium with the lack of familial support to pull him out of it, and he became spiritually disconnected from his body as a result. The gang is initially caught off guard by Splinter's state, but they quickly get over it and work to subdue him.

While the boys are pulled away into battle, April uses her powers to sift through Splinter's memories and, after showing him the time he asked her to train with him, we see a memory with the turtles, Karai, and his only family portrait from before his mutation:

Seeing his family is what manages to bring him back to his senses.

We the audience, as well as Splinter, figured that was the end of his troubles with being a mutant rat, but Shredder decided to bathe in some super juice and sent Splinter careening a thousand feet into a dark cavern, the same one Splinter sent Falco down two seasons ago. Being thrown into near total darkness with a fairly debilitating injury and fever was the perfect recipe for him to begin hallucinating, and he believes the Rat King is attacking him when he's most vulnerable. But just when he feels himself slipping further away, his mind goes straight to the day his sons celebrated their 15th mutation day, and just beyond them is Tang Shen.

He regains his clarity, grasps that Falco's been dead the whole time, and is immensely relieved to see Donnie and Mikey after what he'd been through.

"Perhaps a teacher, but never my master."

Falco inadvertently taught Splinter that he's always had his humanity, and his family serves as a reminder of that fact by remaining a constant and significant pillar for him.

His family is his humanity.

#analysis #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt splinter #hamato yoshi #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #april o'neil #2012 splinter #2012 leo #2012 raph #2012 donnie #2012 mikey #2012 april #i honestly lost where i was going with this but here it is😭

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Four - Roots for friendship

♡♡♡

The ball was entirely outside. It was beautifully done. You had been in awe from the moment you arrived.

You left your mother's side in order to explore the grounds and see who and what was happening around you. The music was lively and many people were out dancing. This felt far more comfortable and free than the last ball.

You pass Colin Bridgerton, who is approaching Penelope Featherington. The poor girl is looking rather down. It is, unfortunately, well known that she had not danced at all at the last ball. Nor did her sisters, but you felt most for Penelope.

You were lucky to have even bumped into Benedict that night. Otherwise, you were sure you would have had the same fate as poor Miss Featherington.

The gown Penelope was wearing was much nicer than ones you had known her to wear. You had heard Portia had a habit of dressing her daughters in the most unruly shades of pink and yellow, sometimes even red. Tonight she looked rather lovely.

You carry on walking, leaving them to talk. Though you think Penelope would make for a good friend, you think she would rather talk to Colin alone. You wonder if perhaps there is something between them.

Cressida Cowper walks past you. She doesn't even look your way. You don't see how she approaches Colin, spills her drink on Penelope on purpose, or Colin stepping in to dance with his friend.

Your eyes land on his brother. Benedict is standing off to the side with his eldest brother. Anthony isn't paying much attention to his, though. Benedict nurses a drink in his hand.

You approach. "Good evening, gentlemen."

Both of them turn to you. Benedict smiles. Anthony bows his head in your direction.

"Good evening," Anthony greets you first.

"Are you looking for Daphne?" You ask. He nods. "I saw her over there with your mother."

Anthony glances over, but does not leave to join them. "Is she well?" He asks.

"Seemingly so."

Anthony takes your answer. As long as Daphne is well, all else is well.

You turn to Benedict. "Not dancing?"

"Haven't found a partner." He smiles.

"My card is empty," you say.

"I shall have to remedy that then." He finishes his drink and puts the glass down on the table behind him.

However, before he can ask for the next dance, the music quietens, and a voice calls out amongst the crowd. "I present Vauxhall's newest spectacle of illumination."

You all turn to see what's happening.

"Feast your eyes above."

You look up. All the lanterns above your head light up at once. You smile. It was quite beautiful. You applaud with the rest of the crowd.

You hadn't noticed that Anthony had drifted away from your side to seek out his sister.

"Shall we dance?" Benedict's hand came into view. You chuckled and took it. Benedict led you off to the dance floor, and you both danced to quite a merry tune.

You laughed and smiled. This dance felt quite friendly. No one could ever assume he was actually trying to court you. Not that anyone was paying much mind.

"It seems mother is too distracted. I might had a lucky escape after all."

You laugh at his words.

"Well, thank you for enlightening me regardless."

You both finish the dance with a bow.

"That was quite a lot of fun." He grins at you.

"It is good for one to enjoy a dance, do you not think?" You giggle.

He nods and escorts you back to the sidelines. Benedict catches sight of Anthony looking less than pleased at something. Benedict excuses himself and goes after his brother.

You find Penelope standing alone now. Colin nowhere in sight. You decide to approach. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

The poor girl looks startled as she turns to you. "Oh, yes. Quite."

She doesn't sound overly convincing, but you decide not to push her. You smile and introduce yourself properly. She smiles and introduces herself in return.

"You look lovely." You compliment her.

"Thank you. Mother had to stay home, so I was able to dress myself. Do you like it?" She smooths down the front of her gown.

"I do."

"You were dancing with Benedict, were you not?" She asks.

"I was. We have become friends, of sorts."

Penelope smiles. "Colin is my friend."

"The Bridgerton's seem like good friends to have."

"They are."

You smile at her and link your arm with hers. "May I keep you company a while?"

Penelope looks quite pleased by your offer. "Yes."

You decide to take a turn around the garden with her. You have decided if nothing else, this season you would make new friends in London.

As you finish your lap of the guests, everyone seems to fall quiet and turn off to the side. You and Penelope stop to look also.

There, entering the ball once more was Daphne Bridgerton. Right beside her was the Duke of Hastings.

"My word," you whisper.

Penelope says nothing as she watches the two. People begin to whisper. You would never have guessed that had any interest in each other after the dinner party last night. Tensions at the table had almost been unbearable, and yet, Simon leads Daphne to the dance floor.

As fireworks light up the sky and the music plays, they dance among the other couples.

Penelope slips from your arm to take a closer look. You watch them with a smile. They had seemed ao unlikely, and yet, the way they danced with each other made you wonder.

Anthony Bridgerton was seething. You could almost feel it.

Violet Bridgerton was thrilled.

♡♡♡

An invitation to the Bridgerton house was not something you were rather expecting so suddenly, but it seemed Benedict was trying to make you quite comfortable with the idea of visiting them.

He had stated to his mother quite clearly that you were his friend and should be allowed to come by as you wished. Violet had agreed with him and reminded you upon entry to her home that you were always welcome.

Funnily enough, it was not Benedict who greeted you right away, but Daphne. She smiled when you entered the drawing room.

"Are you coming too?" She asks.

"Coming where?"

"To promenade with us in the park." She checks her hair with her hand carefully.

"I was unaware you were all going out." You confess to her.

"You're more than welcome." Violet walks past you with a smile.

"I'd be delighted." You smile.

Benedict enters the room and smiles brightly. "There you are."

"Did you invite me for this on purpose?" You ask.

"Perhaps."

"Devious," you chuckle. "Still, a walk would be lovely." You turn back to Daphne. "I assume this has to do with the Duke?"

Daphne puts on a smile, but her eyes don't quite light up. You don't question it. "It may," she says softly.

Benedict offers you his arm. "Shall we?"

You take it and nod.

While Daphne would be with the Duke and chaperoned by Lady Danbury and her mother, the rest of the family were free to stroll at their leisure.

Benedict kept you on his arm as you walked with him and his brothers.

"It's lovely out." You comment.

"Yes, very." Anthony responds, but his mind is elsewhere. "Excuse me." He walks off in a hurry.

"What's wrong with him?" You ask.

"I do not know," Benedict sighs.

Daphne and the Duke have gone way ahead. Lady Danbury and Bridgerton are following them.

"Shall we walk this way?" Benedict suggests. You walk with him, Colin trailing behind with his younger siblings, Gregory and Hyacinth.

"How did your sister manage to catch the Duke's attention? Not that she isn't beautiful or witty enough to capture such a gentleman."

Benedict laughs. "Gentleman? I've never heard him described as such."

"You mean because he is known for being... well, a rake?" You ask.

"Precisely."

"Are you a gentleman?" You ask him, looking at him curiously.

"Of course. All us Bridgerton boys are."

You hear Colin try to hide his chuckle behind you. You smile. "Somehow, I question the truth behind that statement."

"You simply don't know us well enough yet. In the last few weeks you've seen very little of us." He looks at you.

"I've seen you a great number of times for someone I bumped into at a ball."

He grins. "Funny."

"Is it?"

"I think so." He continues leading you through the park. "Are you coming back to ours after?" He asks.

"I'd hate to intrude further on your family."

"Nonsense." Colin speaks up from behind you. "You're welcome in our home."

You smile back at him. "Thank you. It feels strange to become so close to a family I've only really gotten to know."

Benedict looks at you softly. "I rather like having a fresh face to look at."

You laugh. "Careful. If your mother hears, she'll be on your case about finding a wife again."

"She knows I shall not find one in you."

"Splendid. I am certain there is some fine gentleman somewhere in London who will suit me quite nicely."

Benedict chuckles.

♡♡♡

You find yourself back in the drawing room of the Bridgerton Estate. Violet had fetched tea for everyone which you were currently enjoying quite nicely.

Daphne was playing the piano quite nicely in the background.

"Two dances? With a duke?" Hyacinth asks, smiling.

"He was quite taken with your sister, Hyacinth." Violet says proudly. "The entire party was, for that matter. All eyes were on Daphne."

You smile at them as you glance at Daphne. She is focused on her piano playing.

"Are you sure the entire party was not simply eyeing a tear in her dress?" Colin asks, sitting next to Benedict.

You were sat across from the brothers. You give Colin a narrowed stare.

"Or some misstep she took on the dance floor?" Benedict asked.

"You two are terrible," you say to them. Both of them smile at you with boyish grins.

"I do wonder, Daphne, might we count on the Duke at the Crawford ball?" Violet asks her daughter.

"I should think it a fair chance."

"What about the Ramsbury ball, Friday? And what about the grand picnic?"

"We shall see, Mama."

The excitement was evident in Violet. She was happy for her daughter's chances.

As the youngest siblings discuss Francesca being away for the rest of the season, Eloise comes in with quite the question.

"How does a lady come to be with child?"

You choke on your tea.

Daphne stops playing.

"Elosie, what a question!" Violet exclaims.

"I thought one needed to be married," she says right after.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Daphne asks her sister.

"Apperantly, its not even a requirement." Elosie says.

"Eloise, that is enough." Violet puts a stop to this conversation.

Eloise nods and goes to sit between her two older brothers. Violet tries to encourage Daphne to carry on playing the piano.

"I take it the two of you know?" Elosie asks thr men beside her.

"Do not look at me," Benedict says.

You hide your chuckle behind your cup.

"Have you ever visited a farm, El?" Colin asks.

Benedict smacks him round the back of the head, nudging Eloise in the process, who growls in discomfort. Violet turns around to face her children. "I do hope the two of you are not encouraging improper topics of conversation."

"Not at all, Mother." Benedict says.

"In fact, we were just heading off to... take our sticks out."

"Colin Bridgerton!" Violet scolds.

"A round of fencing!" He clarifies.

You bite back a smile as Benedict rises from seat along with his brother. He looks at you with a grin and then departs.

Poor Violet looked like she was going to suffer from those boys.

All other conversations in the room are put on a halt as it is declared that Humboldt is coming.

Daphne rises in delight.

You look up at watch as Humboldt enters the room.

"Has someone arrived, Humboldt?" Daphne asks.

"Callers for Miss Daphne, ma'am."

Daphne squeals with excitement.

"But... the duke? You already have a caller, dearest."

"Well, I suppose now I have more." She says excitedly.

You rise from your seat and approach Violet. "I shall take my leave. I think, perhaps, you're going to be quite busy."

Violet smiles at you softly. "Yes, quite. It was good having you, dear. Come again, won't you?"

You nod with a smile. As you walk past Daphne, you smile again, tapping her arm gently. "Good luck."

She thanks you and you leave.

As you exit the house, you find many gentlemen making their way to the door. She did not just have one or two callers. She had many.

Daphne was a diamond after all.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

[mysticmunson]

pink smoothies

alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

summary: following date night, steve is wondering where you’ve run off to, until he spots you at the mall.

word count: 830

an: i wrote this in one sitting but i hope you enjoy this little ficlet to add more lore to this au. i’d like to make this a thing so please request haha. hope you enjoy :)

Steve didn’t consider himself a clingy person, he loved his friends, but he was also content with space, sometimes he needed it too.

This sentiment was soon discarded after you presented, feeling an urge to spend every moment with you. To his misery, you had seemingly vanished over the past few days, and Robin hadn’t cracked on revealing your location.

The last place he expected to see you was the newly rebuilt Hawkins Mall, wearing a flowing dress that ended at your mid thigh. Sipping the straw of a strawberry smoothie, you glanced around, not reaching his eyes.

Without thinking, he walked up, grabbing you by the upper arm and ignoring the way his dick twitched at your squeak in surprise.

“Steve?” You reply, breathless, after he shoved you both into a janitor's closet in the hallway beside the food court.

If looks could kill, you’d be a puddle on the ground. He towered over you, chest heavy with labored breaths as he took in your intimidated eyes as you set down your drink.

A game of cat and mouse was simple on paper, but when you’re chosen to be the prey, it is anything but.

“What’s new, honey?” He asks, hands brushing your elbows, putting you closer as your hands rested on his chest.

He thrived on the wavering gasp you expedited, fingers curling against his polo.

“I was waiting for someone.” You whisper, though the bustling walkways would mask any conversation.

Head cocking to the side, “Who, sweetheart?”

Gulping down your tempted responses, you felt your back touch the yellow wall.

“Trevor Johnson,” You mumble, watching the dark tone cover his once light iris’, “my parents found out I presented, Steve, they set me up on dates with alphas.”

Jealousy bubbling at the thought of you going on multiple dates, he let his hands trail down to your hips, feeling the elastic of your underwear through the thin cotton of your sundress.

“Oh really? And how’s that worked out?” He gawks with a condescending tone, already knowing that he could sense himself on you from across the cafeteria.

“They all say I smell like I’ve been claimed.” You reveal, toying with the silver chain around his neck.

“Oh, it’s because you have,” He chuckles, “I knotted in you. I could smell me from a mile away, omega.”

The biological title made your knees weak, clutching his shoulders as you felt yourself growing hot.

“Did you not want to see me?” He questions, partially playful as he can feel how flustered you are becoming, but needing reassurance.

“Yes! I just didn’t know if you wanted to see me, I didn’t want to lose you.” You blabber, his cheeky grin dropping at the emotion you’re exhibiting, “My parents wanted me to go on alpha dates because I didn't tell them you helped me, but I don’t like any of the other ones!”

Too flustered to comfort you immediately, Steve’s hand cupped your face before kissing you intensely, moaning at the familiarity of your taste.

His palms wander against your frame, pressing your front as close to his as he could.

“I missed you these past few days.” He confesses, rubbing his cheek against your face before nuzzling against the crook of your neck.

“I missed you so much, I don’t want you to leave.” Your lip quivers, making him look at you once more.

“I’ll go to your mom, wear a nice tux, bring her flowers, whatever. I need you.” He confirms, running his thumb against the apple of your cheek, returning the smile you gave him.

Lost in the moment, you were both startled by an unassuming janitor who went for his broom, and only rolled his eyes before ushering you both out.

Rushing out in hand, the pink drink in your spare hand, you catch a glimpse of Trevor across the way.

Guilt initially comes, but soon dissipates as you watch him flirt with a new omega. Feeling eyes on him, he looks to find you, standing straighter before mouth ‘it’s okay’ and lifting your laced fingers.

A cheesy thumbs up was sent your way before Steve pulled you from the building, going to his maroon BMW. After opening the door for you, he jogged to the driver's side, clicking the buckle.

“Alright, let’s go to my place so I can get my dress clothes, then off to yours.” He announces, taking your hand again once the car started.

Your nod is swift, “Okay, is that all we’re doing?”

A vibration shakes his chest as he laughs briefly, pulling out of the parking spot, “I fully intend on fucking you till you forget anyone else’s name beforehand, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

Covering your face in bashfulness, you giggled, already feeling yourself getting more excited. The radio turned on to a random pop station, the wind beginning to blow through his hair and against his sunglasses. You wonder if waiting to be home will be sufficient.

tagging mutuals! @andvys @lilacletter @lesservillain @corrodedcorpses @berryfairy444 @munsonsreputation

#elora writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington moodboard #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanart #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #alpha!steve harrington #a/b/o universe #a/b/o

[hunny-beann]

Desiderium I

Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

-> Part II

Note: This fic absolutely breaks cannon in multiple ways, but I felt the urge to write this and created it thus lol, so I hope you enjoy regardless (and for my own sanity, we'll just call this an avenger!Loki au).

Synopsis:

Loki is plagued by a dream thrust upon him as punishment during his imprisonment, and finds that even once he regains his freedom, he still can't move past the vision of the life he could have had with you. And when those around him struggle to understand his sorrows, he decides to show them firsthand what he endured while asleep that night, and all that he lost both by waking up, and by making all of the wrong choices for far too long.

Oh, but it's never truly over, is it?

And your sudden reappearance proves that.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 5,057

"Does he ever stop sulking?"

Tony muttered under his breath after sparing a quick glance toward the aesir God of Mischief that sat in the corner of the room, staring into a cloud of green created by his own hand with a type of longing he had worn almost constantly for months now.

At first, many had thought his sullen nature to be a result of his capture and subsequent imprisonment, but even now that he was far more free to roam and do what he pleased (within reason), his somber attitude still had yet to let up.

In fact, some would even swear that it had gotten worse.

The God of Thunder included, and also in particular.

From the beginning, Thor had perhaps been the biggest defender of his younger brother, and of course he had, how could he not be?

But even still, when it came to the questioning of Loki's less than enthusiastic (and at times, borderline concerning) behavior, Thor somehow managed to become even more defensive of his confusing family member and all of the quirks that he seemed to have.

This occasion included.

He turned toward Anthony Edward Stark with a slight frown, a sigh that seemed reserved purely for situations concerning Loki passing his lips,

"All of this has been rather... difficult for him. There is much that he misses about our realm, and even more that he has lost."

Tony rose a brow at that, fighting back a groan at the seemingly constant dramatics of the "Odinson" siblings.

Who would have thought that two gods could be so annoyingly theatrical?

"A lot of people have lost a lot of things, Point Break. Some of them at his hand, in case you need a reminder."

Tony muttered, struggling to find sympathy for the green themed deity sitting across the room, a look of deep longing and sorrow in his gaze as he continued staring into the cloud of his own creation.

Thor sighed again.

"I do not, Stark, nor does my brother. He had a multitude of things revealed to him in dreams delivered by the gods whilst locked away. He is... Not the same."

Tony sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to return his focus toward what he'd been doing before he'd made the mistake of mentioning Loki to his older brother.

"Whatever you say, big guy. Just do me a favor though and ask him if he can practice his daily sulking rituals somewhere else. His whole 'woe is me' vibe makes it a little hard to focus."

Thor sighed again at his comrade's obvious lack of compassion toward his clearly suffering sibling, but he nodded nonetheless.

"I will see what I can do, Stark."

And with that, he was taking familiarly heavy steps toward Loki, each growing more hesitant than the last as he took in the full sight of him.

It was no wonder that Tony found his presence to be so distracting, because in truth, you could all but feel his angst rolling off of him in waves, strong and undeniably present in a manner that almost made the god himself shiver.

It was not easy for the god of mischief, what he was going through, but perhaps even Thor himself had managed to underestimate it.

Perhaps he should have been even more concerned than he already was.

"Loki."

He said stiffly upon his approach, watching as the god in question briefly glanced in his direction in acknowledgement before returning his gaze back to his seidr.

"I sympathize greatly with your sorrows, and I wish truly that I could do away with them for you, but a request has been made for you to better contain your bereavements, if possible, and I think it would be best for you to try."

Thor said calmly, though he could see as plain as day that his words had done no good, a fact made evident by the way that his brother turned to look at him, as if both wounded and infuriated at the very same time.

What a familiar look that was for the mischief god to wear these days.

He stood, green cloud disappearing as he did so, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"Do you believe somehow that I have not already done all that I can to contain my grief, you blithering fool?"

He all but hissed, anger controlling his words but a deep and pervasive sadness evident in his eyes, allowing the god of thunder to see far beyond the ruse his sibling was attempting to put up.

Loki was hurting, perhaps beyond anything that he had endured before, and Thor was unsure if that could have been made any more clear.

The god of mischief took a step closer, slowly, threateningly, as if he might frighten the being standing before him, the only one present that had ever truly seen the good in him, the angel before the fall.

A trickster to be sure, but the villain that he so desperately tried to make himself out to be? Thor could not see such a thing, not in the eyes of one he had grown up alongside of.

Not in his brother, regardless of blood.

Regardless of what was said or done.

"You haven't the slightest clue what I have endured, and yet you have the gall to request that I reign in my pain, as if it is not all that has been left of me? All that has not been so crudely taken?"

He snarled, coming closer, ignoring the heavy gaze of Anthony Stark as it landed upon him, and choosing to pay no mind to the fact that he had undoubtedly called the others in, a fact made clear by the large number of footfalls that grew nearer and nearer by the second.

Maybe Tony was simply a fool made cautious by what he had seen the god do in the past, or maybe he just wished to not be the only audience for this particular spat.

Either way, it mattered not to Loki.

The god in question was far too tired, far too angry, and far too confused to let such a disrespect as this pass.

If they did not understand, then he would make them, and maybe then they could comprehend the realness, the immense depth and crushing weight of his pain.

The burden he bore.

The reaping of what he had sowed long ago, without even realizing it.

The universe had never been fair, not to him, and it was apparent now that such a truth had persevered from the very start.

Back before his title had meant more than a whisper to him, before he had felt the need to prove he was more.

When there had been so much more kindness in his heart and light in his life.

When there had been hope,

When there had been you.

Thor put his hands up defensively, though how secure he truly felt in spite of this almost entirely symbolic and pleading gesture was made clear by his tone, which was pitying in every sense of the word.

"Calm down, brother, I meant no disrespect. I simply feel a deep worry for you, I do not want to watch you suffer any longer. It is a heavy weight upon me to know that you are so burdened."

He said appealingly, eyes full of a type of plea and concern that, once upon a time, might have caused the god of mischief to think for a moment, and perhaps even halt his actions altogether.

But now was not then, and after all that he had seen, all that was now and could have been, he found that his brother's words only served to make him angrier.

"You feel a heavy weight, do you?"

He said darkly, stalking ever forward, even as Thor backed away slowly with each step, not wishing to see his family member trapped in a cage once again as a result of some petty fight.

There was rage in Loki's eyes now, though it did nothing to cancel out the sadness there.

It was clear what was driving him, but even more evident was how upset the god was about that fact.

He did not like being so controlled by his emotions, resented the way that everyone could tell how he was feeling in spite of how hard he tried to hide it.

He had done his best to conceal his sorrows and this was what he had gotten? A request for more, as if he would not have hidden them away entirely in favor of allowing those who were once his enemies to see his weaknesses? The way that truth had changed him?

It infuriated him to no end.

"Can you even begin to imagine then,"

He started, voice low, but just loud enough so that every avenger who had now entered the room could hear it from where they stood together in silence, watching as Loki stalked ever closer to his brother, hands still clenched at his sides, jaw unfathomably tense, and muscles twitching with a quiet kind of rage.

"What I am feeling?"

He finished viciously.

Thor frowned, voice still full of pity and something akin to longing as he replied, tone still entirely bereft of fear,

"I know only what you have told me, dear brother."

He said, watching as Loki all but scoffed at his words,

"So in that way, yes, I suppose I am capable of imagining what you must feel."

The god of mischief laughed in response to this, a humorless and cold sound that was choked by some long abided pain, some endless suffering that only a god could understand, and that no mere mortal could ever endure and survive.

"I think not."

He snapped angrily, watching as Thor's brow creased in response, not understanding what about his reply had been so terribly wrong that it had brought about such a strong reaction from his sibling.

Loki continued,

"I think that if you could even begin to comprehend what I have seen, what I have lost, you would never even think to make an attempt at consoling or correcting me, nor could you ever deign to imagine believing that the small amounts of my grief witnessed through my behavior could be decreased any further. If you could truly understand, you would know the weight that I carry, and you would see that it could never be lessened, because there is truly no greater grief than that which I am suffering from!"

Thor stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before finally he spoke up once more, voice slightly smaller, though still not lacking in compassion or empathy.

"Brother, I beg you to help me understand better so I may communicate this suffering of yours to those around us who do not know you as well as I. We are guests here on Midgard, and I cannot allow for you to push this pain of yours onto our hosts so endlessly without solution or a shared understanding in mind. How can you expect anyone to have faith or sympathy for you if you will not tell us what has happened?"

Thor's pleas caused yet another round of laughter to burst forth from the god of mischief, though this one was less pained and a bit more angry, a twinge of eagerness to it that did not spell out anything good, not for Thor nor any of the unwelcome audience present within the room alongside them.

"You wish for me to let them see? For me to grant you understanding?"

Loki hissed out, a familiar and volatile energy filling the room as he began to use his seidr to do just that.

"Loki-"

Thor warned, moving to take a step forward when suddenly, the entire room seemed to disappear beneath his feet, and without warning, he found himself in a place entirely unfamiliar to him, standing amongst his peers in a small crowd that occupied some unseen corner of whatever space this was.

He watched as Tony turned to look at him, frustration and confusion etched into his features and mouth opening to speak just as a familiar voice cut through the silence.

It was Loki, but not the one that those watching had come to know.

No, this was a Loki long forgotten by time and entirely unknown by the avengers present to witness this dream that the god of mischief had once so vaguely described to his brother while in the thralls of his pain.

This was the vision that the gods had shown to the adopted son of Odin during his imprisonment within the Avenger's tower months prior.

This was where his sadness, his grief, and his longing had stemmed from.

And it was clear, as they all watched on, why that may have been.

It was beautiful here, wherever here was.

The sun shone through every window, and this place, clearly a home, was adorned with stunning textiles and masonry, each detail obviously considered and brought to life with such care and intention that it could bring one to tears if they focused on it long enough.

Thankfully for the onlookers though, this would not be necessary, because the Loki in question who stood before them made for quite a distracting sight.

He looked younger here somehow, features untouched by some pervasive strain or anger that had long since gotten to the man that was so well known to them now.

His expression was peaceful, happy, so devoid of the angst or maliciousness that many were used to seeing.

This version of Loki, whoever he was, and whenever he had existed, was one that did not yet know the things that he did now, one that had found something that his truest self had not.

Happiness.

And it was clear, as this version of the god of mischief spoke, where that came from.

"Dearest Starlight, have you the faintest idea of how much I've missed you?"

He muttered into the hair of the woman standing before him, one arm wrapped around her while the other cupped the back of her head gently, lovingly, and with such fondness that it almost hurt to watch

This was a man overcome with, and undoubtedly changed by love.

They could see it in his eyes and the way that they lit up when the woman, whoever she was, moved away slightly to look up at him, and in the way that he pressed his forehead to hers with such love and clearly intentional gentleness.

He adored this person standing before him, and judging by the tears brimming in Thor's blue eyes, she was far more than a simple dream, or someone made up by the mind to have and to hold.

No, this was someone that they had known, perhaps long ago, perhaps yesterday, for the timing itself mattered ever so little.

What mattered instead, was that this individual, whoever she was, meant the world and more to the very person that the onlooking crowd had once believed to be devoid of the organ capable of love and affection.

She was important, and she was special, and above all else, she was seemingly a vast source of grief for the two son's of Odin, though one in particular far more than the other, the latter of which stood amongst them with a sadness that was almost assuredly not for himself evident within his gaze.

Thor may have known this girl, whoever she may be or have been, but his tears were not for his own loss of her, no, they were instead for Loki's. He watched the two of them with such rapt and sad fondness that it was all but impossible to deny that fact.

He adored what the two of them shared, and mourned its absence.

And in truth, the unwelcome onlookers could not help but feel similarly.

This woman was beautiful to be sure, with shining hair and twinkling eyes, and a gentle touch that she laid upon the deity standing before her with such care and devotion.

She smiled up at him lovingly, mouth still curved upward even as she spoke, her reply teasing, but far from mockery, mischievous in a way that was befitting of any love of Loki Laufeyson.

"Just me?"

She asked amusedly, carting her fingers through the god's soft black locks and watching with gentle laughter as he simply rolled his eyes in response before he leaned down to kiss her sweetly without a single word, the arm that was still wrapped around her waist tugging her closer before he finally pulled away a few seconds later, joy obvious within his expression, in spite of her ardent teasing.

"Do not ask me such foolish questions, my dear, or I may just be required to seal your lips against mine for all eternity to keep you quiet."

He murmured with his forehead pressed against hers, his nose brushing against her cheek for a few moments until he pulled back with a sigh,

"I suppose I should change before I make myself at home again, hmm?"

He asked with mock exasperation, tucking a few strands of the woman's hair behind her ear as she laughed in reply, nodding almost immediately.

"That would most certainly make me a happy wife, indeed."

She said, pulling further away from him before walking over to the kitchen area and removing something from the oven,

"Now hurry up and change before dinner gets too cold, foolish prince, or you may just find Thor helping himself to your portion again."

Loki gave an amused glare in response to this, but said nothing more, wandering swiftly down a long and dark hallway until he faded from view entirely.

After this, there was silence for a minute or two, a peaceful and joyous one that was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the woman's gentle humming, or one of a few a small noises from further down the hall, none of which seemed important enough to capture the woman in question's attention.

That being said, as Loki returned, something else did, though it notably grabbed hold of that of the audience as well, who stared on together in shock, though Thor was clearly the most baffled of them all.

For there was Loki Laufeyson, adopted son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, and god of mischief, with a child on his hip, one with hair the very color of his, and eyes that were an exact copy of his own.

The woman standing in the kitchen crossed her arms upon her husband's entrance into the room, raising a brow at him as she sighed and approached the two beings who had just graced her with their presence.

"And what business do you believe our daughter has with being up so late, Mr. Laufeyson?"

She questioned teasingly as she pressed a gentle kiss to the head of the little girl who was being held so affectionately within her father's arms, a sweet burble of laughter escaping her as the woman's lips tickled her skin.

The audience watched on in utter shock as Loki smiled softly at the sight, his shoulders shrugging slightly as he bounced the child, who appeared to be around a year old, upon his hip, arms keeping her steady with a well practiced and easy grace found only within a parent that had been present and involved enough to know their child like the back of their hand.

"I believe she has business with welcoming her dear father home regardless of the hour. Would you disagree, Mrs. Laufeyson?"

He murmured gently as he leaned forward to press a lingering kiss against his wife's lips, smirking at the sight of her reddened cheeks as he pulled away.

The wife in question sputtered for a brief moment before finally responding, glaring slightly up at the god of mischief for his antics, though they were no doubt familiar to her by now, judging by the ring wrapped around her finger and the child she had so plainly bore that sat now upon her husband's hip.

"I suppose not."

She replied gently, watching as Loki placed the child into her high chair, offering a toy of his very own creation to distract her with as he approached his spouse with a rather eager grin.

"No?"

He asked softly as he moved to stand behind her, his hands finding her shoulders and massaging the tense muscles there gently, his smile only growing as she sighed at the feeling and leaned into him with a practiced ease borne clearly of a long nurtured trust.

"How kind of you to see things my way for once, dear wife."

He murmured against the shell of the woman's ear, sending a shiver down her spine even as she rolled her eyes in response to his overly teasing tone and his seemingly ceaseless need to make an attempt at pushing her buttons.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that, my prince."

She sighed out, still clearly pleased with the feeling of his hands rubbing practiced and efficient circles into her skin,

"I am simply allowing you this one small victory while you may still have it."

The god of mischief smirked upon hearing this, his brow raised and his voice low as he replied,

"Allowing me, hmm? What a benevolent ruler you are, starlight."

He all but purred out, and the woman nodded absently, still clearly wrapped up in the feeling of his hands on her body.

"Aren't I?"

She asked, a smile growing upon her face as she spoke,

"Allowing you to wake up our one year old daughter upon your return before you're forced to cease such childish behaviors once your son arrives in a few months time. How generous of me."

Loki hummed and replaced one of his hands that had been resting upon her shoulder with his chin, allowing his now free hand to travel down to her stomach, pressing against it and providing the opportunity for the onlookers to note for the very first time the way that it was rounded out slightly with child, yet another piece of evidence of the love that they shared.

A love that the Loki Laufeyson that they knew, the one that had been captured, imprisoned, and seemingly rehabilitated, had never known.

A love that he perhaps could have had, if only things had been different.

Slowly, faintly, at the sounds of softening laughter and contented discussions, the scene before everyone faded, and the harsh light of the tower persisted once more, blinding them all sharply in a way that the softness of the vision had not managed.

And there, before all of them, stood Loki, looking more than a little haggard with his hair out of place and his eyes brimming with tears.

It was Thor who spoke first.

"It was that which you saw, brother?"

He asked sympathetically, only for Loki to shake his head in response, tone far less angry and much more despondent as he spoke.

The sight of that vision, that memory of a dream delivered unto him one harsh evening to teach him some horrible lesson, had clearly hurt him far more than he wished to let on, and perhaps even more than he had thought it would.

"No."

He said,

"What I saw was far worse, I'm afraid."

Thor's eyebrows creased with both concern and confusion,

"Worse? Brother, I do not-"

"I had entire life with her, Thor."

Loki murmured gently, staring down at his own two shaking hands as if in disbelief that they belonged to him at all,

"I-I had thought truly that everything, all of this suffering and self-hatred had been the real dream all along, and that my time with her, beginning from back when we were all just children again, was reality."

He looked into his brother's eyes then, and allowed him to see the pain there, the sadness and longing for a life he had once believed himself to have lived, a life where he had chosen differently, and found better.

"I did everything the very same as in this lifetime, except instead of choosing power, or some poorly perceived form of acceptance at the hands of our father, I chose her every single time. I married her, brother, stood at the altar and watched her come to me, watched her be granted her rightful immortality at my side, built a house with her, for her, gave her a daughter, and a son, and many other children who I cannot bear to think about because I am in ruin over the fact that they were never real."

He paused, chest heaving, eyes never leaving those of his brother before finally, he continued,

"I know their names, Thor."

He choked out,

"The names of my children, every son and daughter born with some combination of my eyes and her smile, or her hair and my nose. I know their favorite foods, the toy they prefer over all of the rest, and the song that their mother would sing to put them to sleep the fastest."

His tears were beginning to run now, though if Loki noticed, he did not move to wipe them away or to hide them.

"I know everything about them, and yet they are not here, never were, and never will be, and it feels like I have lost all that I ever deigned to love. My wife, my children, a version of myself that I did not loathe, they are all lost to me, and I have died a thousand deaths for every waking moment spent without them by my side."

Thor's own eyes had grown teary now, and he stepped forward slowly, his arm outstretched, as if hoping to reach into his brother and take this pain away with his bare hands alone.

"Dear brother, forgive me."

He said softly, voice shaky in a way that was so very uncharacteristic of him,

"I did not know, I swear it."

Loki shook his head, some shadow of a smile, pained and without any semblance of joy finding his face,

"I know, Thor."

He said quietly,

"But do not waste your apologies on me. It is not your fault for not truly knowing, but mine for believing I could have her back again. She is gone, and I should have known that I could only ever have her in dreams."

Thor opened his mouth to speak, his expression flooded with sorrow, only to find that there was nothing that he could say.

The bridge to you was one that his brother had burned a long time ago, which had been lying in embers since.

Was he not right that you were largely gone from him? A memory of perhaps undeserved yet so very innocent love that he had shut out in order to keep moving forward until the gods had thrust what the two of you could have been upon him so cruelly?

It had been ages now, since Loki had seen or heard of you, and Thor was ashamed to admit that he too had locked you away in memory in favor of moving forward.

A childhood playmate, a most loyal friend far past adulthood, the once almost-lover of his mischievous younger brother, you were a great many things to him, and yet he could scarcely bear to think of you now.

Betrayal was what he had once thought of whenever you came to mind, but now, so many years later, he could see that you had never been the one to betray.

It had been him all along, him and Loki, albeit for two differing reasons.

Either way, the little witch they had once both known so fondly had been long dead to them for many moons now, until the very sight of you so happy, so alive, in spite of the fact that such a vision was a dream brought on by some vengeful deity, sent you careening back into their minds once more.

Where were you now? How had you fared without them, and possibly without your family as well? Were you even alive at all, after all of this time with only a witchling's feeble immortality to keep you alive rather than the godly kind that Loki had helped to bestow upon you within his dream?

Thor shook off these thoughts almost as quickly as they came, and watched on helplessly as Loki began to make his way toward the exit, eyes glued to the ground to avoid making eye contact with the small group of Avengers who had continued to watch on in surprise.

And perhaps, one of them may have piped up to say something, anything to provide comfort to the once so pesky god, had it not been for the sudden shift in the air, followed shortly thereafter by the very shredding of reality itself, as a tear opened up on the far wall, revealing a dark shimmering swirl of colors and lights that soon spat out a figure adorned in clothing that may have appeared foreign to any Midgardian, but was so very familiar to the one aesir god who stared on in utter shock.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed either entirely unaware of the strange circumstance occurring behind him, or uncaring of it, as he continued on his quest to leave the room entirely.

That is, until a voice so familiar that it all but snapped his heart in two called out to him.

"L-Loki?"

It asked weakly, strained and soft, but just barely loud enough to reach him where he stood.

The average man may have froze up entirely, disbelieving their own ears and blaming their minds for playing such cruel tricks on them, but Loki was no average man, and he did not believe his mind capable of making such a mistake.

He knew what he had heard.

He turned around instantly, already wide eyes growing wider when he found you on the floor there, an old cloak of his wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

"Starlight?"

He breathed out in utter disbelief, making his way over in just a few long and intentional strides before he all but collapsed to his knees in front of you.

#loki x reader #loki x yn #loki x female reader #loki x fem reader #loki marvel #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki series #loki laufeyson #loki x reader angst #loki angst

[dhampling]

Your fics/headcanons give me the feeling of eating freshly baked cookies with warm milk while wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer. Just so sweet and comforting. Your post the other day about the number of kiddos he'd want got me wondering: how would astarion handle his partner being in labor? I feel like he would be freaking out so badly internally but trying so hard to keep it together for them. Does it get easier with each baby? Does he cry each time? Also, I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute with his growing family and I'm dyinngggg. Thank you again so much for all the wonderful fics sorry this message was kinda all over the place I LOVE YOU. ❤️

hello my sweet angel!!! firstly - you inspired me. I'm inspired. i wrote something based on the introducing the siblings idea. see below!

He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of it.

Feign exasperation, absolutely. Roll his eyes in jest, move things along with the smallest ‘away, away’ of his free hand at the faces pressed against the inside of the kitchen window as you both approach the house in a beleaguered stumble - snout noses and wide grins, breath fogging the glass trying to gain a glimpse. Incredulously sigh at the fact that it’s just a baby.

It looks like a baby. Sounds like a baby. Smells like a baby. The house tends to have at least one kicking about at any given time, gods; there’s absolutely nothing unfamiliar nor noteworthy about a baby dhampir in Baldur’s Gate at this point. If anything, he’d be surprised if the townsfolk weren’t banging down his door come morning with a council-endorsed petition to encourage him to stop breeding the little shits.

Frenetic. He’s still practically vibrating with adrenaline from the birth still. Shaky hands stilled under the weight of the baby basket. Legs flying.

Another girl, obviously. Another ‘A’ name conjured from the recesses of his ancient wisdom. Some variation of a label he saw in an apothecary a week ago - you’re past the point of putting too much thought into their names, a fact that becomes obvious to anyone who lends it too much of a thought.

Apothecary. He ponders the viability of that one. Apothecaria? Apothe. Antiseptic. Asbestos. Arugula.

Fuzzy as the door swings open into the night and the stew-warmth of the kitchen bleeds outside. He holds the door, the carrier containing the baby; hospital bags strapped to his back, the weight of another little thing on his conscience. A pack mule. He pulls a face.

The eldest steps from the sitting room through the parted gaggle of waiting Ancuníns and takes a look at the new addition.

A brief moment passes.

Then she smiles as anticipated, nodding her approval - a time-honoured tradition in your household ever since the second was unleashed unto her sister - before falling to the back of the crowd, pulling out a chair for an exhausted you; and resigning from her primary carer duties for the evening.

It’s bittersweet. At this point, Astarion can never be sure if this time, the whole bustling through the doorway in the middle of the night with a newborn thing; will be the last.

But as each previous youngling steps in line to greet the newest addition to their chaotic sisterhood, he finds himself looking over to you fondly. The way your hand still rests atop the round of your belly, the other supporting your head as your elbow rests firm on the table. Cheeks aflush, lids drooping closed with each breath; and yet you sit there instead of retiring straight to bed to watch them.

Their eager faces, hushed whispers; fingers poking and prodding the small exhausted thing presented to them once more. Rolling her name around their mouths to get used to the sound. You watch each movement with a warm heart and dopey grin.

Obviously you want this again. He wants this again. This moment of soft whispers and unfettered love amongst siblings.

No, he resolves;-

this won’t be the end.

-

i LOVED THAT SO MUCH. THANK YOU.

with regard to the labour:

astarion cries with the first two babies.

after that, he realises it's probably more important to be supportive to his partner at this moment in time.

he can compartmentalise any emotions he's having with the logic that they can wait, honestly.

none of his worst fears are going to materialise, he knows this now. he's done it before.

with the later babies he's a pro.

he even has the nerve to sit there and exclaim at points that he's bored, and that you need to hurry home as he has a client coming to the shop later.

despite both knowing it's a jest, this always earns him a pillow to the face.

THANK YOU NONNIE!!! I LOVE YOU!

#answered #my writing #dadstarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate

[jmdbjk]

. . .

Just like Jimin rubbing his own head and being shook instantly, we will have many instances where we will be reminded of them... see a photo or a video, hear their voices or a song and instantly be shook that we won't be seeing Jimin and Jungkook much in the next 18 months.

Not gonna lie, it is rough for me to watch Jimin’s live. The level of vulnerability is just too much for me to handle. His uncertainty, his dismay, his level of discomfort and self-consciousness... humiliation(?) over the loss of his beautiful hair, I can't watch it yet. His own disbelief at looking at his own shaved head...

He is facing something unknown and unfamiliar. He's learned a lot over the past year diving into the appearances he had to do alone for his ambassadorships for Dior and Tiffany. I say "alone" but he wasn't alone, he had his manager and staff by his side.

He won't have them when he enters the military base.

I already said in a previous post that Jimin is disappointed that he must, once again, stop doing what he loves and do this instead. He’s just hitting his stride and he has a lot he wants to accomplish. All that, in addition to his habit of self-criticism and his anxiety issues, it is HUGE that he will have someone there who knows this about him and can help him redirect and calm down. He will beat himself up, put himself down and not allow himself to give himself credit for doing as well as he thinks he should. Jungkook will remind him that he's amazing and help him overcome all that noise in his head.

And keep in mind that Jungkook is a level of introvert that requires some amount of "alone time". This "alone time" is when this type of introvert “recharges” or “decompresses” in order to settle or center one’s self. We all see how different he is during group lives versus when he is alone. His introvert thrives by himself. The situation of being with strangers for such long periods is CHALLENGING! Without his fidget spinner lip rings, and again, staff and manager beside him facing something new by himself, he'll be ADHDing all over the place. Knowing that Jungkook has someone he is comfortable with, who understands this about him, is HUGE. He has a habit of tuning out, zoning out and withdrawing and Jimin can help him stay put in the moment.

Besides genuinely missing performing and his fans, it is no wonder that his frame of mind during his last live with us was downhearted.

This is not a situation where one needs the other more... it is a situation where they will both mutually benefit from having the other present.

These guys are not like us. These two have lived the past ten years in a world that is NOTHING like ours. They've grown up and matured living a life that we can't possibly know and understand. Jungkook has several $1000 bottles of whiskey chilling in his refrigerator that he mixes with Cloop soda water and drinks like its kool-aid through a straw. THEY ARE NOT LIKE US.

They've succeeded beyond all expectations, even their own, and had to deal with all the extreme ups and downs of all of that... and now they must put everything they know aside to step into a completely different world with the eyes of the world focused on them. The pressure to not fuck up has to be enormous. Everything they do is amplified. Its not fair, really.

Physically, they will have advantages over their younger fellow soldiers in that strenuous work is not unfamiliar to them, they are accustomed to pushing themselves and they know what it takes to master something that requires a lot of physicality. They are strong and athletic.

And now, emotionally and mentally, they will be fine because they will have each other.

I will miss all of them and be so very excited to count down the days to Jin's discharge... but I will be the most bereft waiting for Jimin and Jungkook.

#jimin #jungkook #bts military service #i understand parasocial relationships now #except its not all that one-sided #they will miss us too

[starriluvs]

Hate me not ———————

Ao’nung x Reader Prompt: Oblivious Ao’nung who has a soft spot and a subtle reader, need i say more. A/N: Sorry this one’s short, been having writer’s block</3 ————————

Since arriving in the Met’Kayina clan, you had felt nothing but exhaustion, physically and mentally.

Between learning new customs and ways, and having to deal with the headache that was Ao’nung, you found that you desired nothing more than sleep.

You found temporary solace in the water, floating amongst the ocean with your arms stretched out.

‘Come on Ao’nung, can’t we take a short break?’ You called out drearily to the boy. Though you didn’t see, he rolled his eyes in response.

He had been misfortunate enough to be assigned the task of personally teaching you.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, you were his least favourite of the Sully siblings. He had tried to tease you constantly- more so than he had to the rest of your family. Yet, you’d never given him face.

Once, he’d called both you and your sister freaks. You’d simply thanked him with a smile for seeing them as unique, before proceeding to show off your forest-suited features. He’d only deadpanned at you before stomping off as he grumbled.

Another time, Ao’nung had called you an ugly four fingered freak in-front of your friends. Tsireya had jumped to defend you, but you’d waved her off with a relaxed grin.

You were delighted to mention how he had been lying- courtesy of the violet tinge on his ears when he’d spoken of you. You’d shot him a smug smirk as you caught him blue-handed. He’d huffed before muttering a ‘whatever’ to himself.

In conclusion, nothing he did roused you in the slightest. He’d always chased for opportunities to see you, so he could take the chance to rile you up.

You never took offence to what he said, always deflecting quickly to flip the situation around. It was irritating.

As was your whole being.

Your slim frame that had caused you trouble in the water at first, and so he’d had to guide you by force, with a hand wrapped firmly around your arm.

Your amber eyes that always shone with vivid emotion. Ao’nung had always found it hard to fully meet your gaze.

Your voice that was so full of life. It was grating to hear your voice, especially when he felt his heartbeat quicken at the sound of it.

The boy didn’t know what was so special about you. Why his body reacted the way it did when he was around you.

——-

Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present. The boy watched as you mindlessly floated amongst the waves, looking as though you didn’t have a care in the world. You looked so relaxed, at peace even.

He was about to tell you to continue your ilu riding, but at the relaxed expression on your face, the boy felt a slight twinge in his heart. As though he were the bad guy, when you rightfully should be practicing.

He mentally cursed his body for feeling such weakness- because of you, at that.

Ao’nung sighed drearily, running a dampened palm across his face. ‘Fine.’ He called out, voice grating against his throat at the hesitation.

He didn’t know why he let you continue floating like an idiot. He only knew that if he didn’t, his heart would’ve felt burdened at disturbing you.

You responded to his sentiment with a small, closed-eye smile. ‘Thanks, Nung.’

Ao’nungs heart lurched at the nickname. He really didn’t understand you.

A serene silence washed over the two of you. You continued your mission to stay afloat, as Ao’nung sat mildly annoyed on your ilu.

The boy stared at your form, wondering how you could benefit from looking so ridiculous.

‘You do realise that you look like an absolute idiot right now. What are you even doing anyway?’ The boy inquired, eyes narrowed in annoyed confusion.

‘I’m relaxing.’ You spoke with a satisfied sigh. ‘After the hectic nature of the past few weeks, I’ve been meaning to destress myself.’

‘You should try it too, y’know? Considering how grumpy you are all the time, it’d do you some good to just relax.’ Your voice called out clear to him.

The boy scowled in response. ‘I don’t want to look like an idiot, you skxawng.’

‘Come on, Ao’nung. Please?’ You dragged out the word to try and convince him.

Ao’nung stared at you for a moment longer than necessary, contemplating life choices.

Eventually, he gave in. He didn’t exactly have much to do anyway.

The sounds of splashing could be heard as Ao’nung swam his way through the water to you. A loud sigh released as he began to float.

‘See, it’s not so bad, is it?’ You coaxed. The boy only let a muffled grumble to let you know he was listening.

Opening your eyes, you swam slightly closer to him. You began to splash your hand in the water slightly as you spoke. ‘Here, Nung. Hold my hand so you can feel my heartbeat.’ You offered, hoping to reciprocate the skills you’d learned from him.

He stared hesitantly, wondering whether you were joking.

‘If you feel my relaxed heartbeat, maybe you’ll be able to do the same.’

Once more, the boy gave in, hesitantly taking hold of your wrist. He felt as though he physically could not say no to you. Curse you for making him feel obliged to go along with your strange ideas.

‘Now, just breathe in, and then breathe out. Let go of your worries, and watch as you start to feel lighter.’ You advised gently, smiling at the soft grip the boy held on your wrist.

Opening your eyes once more, you turned your head to watch as he did what was instructed. Surprisingly so without complaints.

You sank back into the water, embracing the ocean in silence. The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments, overlapping of the waves filling in the silence.

Just as you were appreciating the moment however, Ao’nung unsurprisingly had to ruin the moment.

‘I hate you, you know.’

And you both knew no greater lie could be told.

‘If you did, you wouldn’t be holding my hand now, would you?’

#avatar wow #avatar #avatar x reader #avatar wow fic #avatar fic #aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x you #aonung imagine #aonung fic #aonung scenario #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung x y/n #ao’nung x you #ao’nung fluff #ao’nung imagine

[awearywritersworld]

Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: you and gojo have been more than friends for years, but when geto massacred all those civilians, it left him broken. years later, he finally realizes he needs to pick up the pieces. w/c: 2.1k warnings: smut, kinda angsty, but also fluffy, creampie, gojo being vulnerable, sex with feelings a/n: lovers to it's complicated to maybe we can fix things vibes, fem!reader, softdom!gojo, *NSFW under the cut* masterlist

A steady, slow percussion reaches Gojo’s ears as he stands outside your door late one evening. His hand rises to knock against the wood, though he wonders if you can even hear it over the music. Just as his knuckles are about to meet with the door once more, the melody grows quieter and he listens to your soft footsteps approach. When the door swings open, revealing you on the other side, the sight alone makes the ever-present burden on Gojo’s shoulders feel less crushing.

“What are you doing here?”

A dark shirt hangs loosely from his frame and your eyes trail down to his exposed collarbones before they dart back up to his face. He looks tired and worn, but so do you. 

“I just finished that mission, the special grade in Minato.” 

His words don’t necessarily answer your question, but you still move aside to let the man in. He notices the drink in your hand for the first time when you bring it to your lips and take a small sip.

Your relationship with Gojo is complicated, a fact that weighs heavily in your chest. It wasn't always this way. 

At first, it was simple. You’d never explicitly called yourself a couple, though your actions toward and feelings for one another were those of lovers. Your relationship was left undefined, sure, but never complicated. 

That was years ago, though--- before Geto massacred those civilians, before he tore his best friend's heart to pieces.

You alone had been there to see Gojo’s inevitable breakdown. You would never forget how his voice cracked as he cursed the cruel world and malevolent gods that presided over it. His hair had fallen over his eyes, but they were still shining brightly despite the tears that flooded them. 

Those memories, seared into your mind, make it hard to stay mad at him. Even though he disappears for days at a time and hides his feelings behind that cocky nonchalance... You remain by his side nonetheless.

As he steps past you and into the room, he squeezes your hip in greeting. The warm, dim lighting of the room brings him a small sense of ease, even as violent images from the mission wrack his mind. He moves toward your small kitchenette, making himself a drink to match your own. 

You watch as the amber-colored liquor pours over the ice and fills his cup, grimacing at the sight. You know he hates alcohol more than most things. “Minato was that bad, huh?"

He tilts his head back and lets the liquor run down his throat, trying and failing not to wince at the sensation. He wipes at his lips before nodding, “yes.” 

You sit down on the sofa and he grabs the bottle from the counter before joining you, sitting close enough that your thighs touch. He tops off both your drinks, then leans back, slings an arm around your shoulders, and relaxes into the cushions. You whisper your thanks. It's silent for a little while, save for the quiet music.

“I didn’t think saving people would be such a bloody endeavor," you begin. You're no stranger to the gory reality rattling around in his head at the moment. "Wanna talk about?"

He does and he doesn't spare you any of the details regarding his last 48 hours. Over the course of his recollection, you shift so that you're situated more snugly into his side, your fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt as you listen intently. He chokes up toward the end, struggling to recount the worst and final part.

You place your hand above his knee. "I'm sorry you couldn't save them, 'Ru. I know how impossible it is to endure, let alone talk about."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just presses his thigh into your touch. When he takes the last sip left in his glass, it doesn't sting as much now that he's reached the bottom.

“Well, I’ve got no secrets, baby.. Not with you, anyway. Just dirty shame.” 

Your features soften and you know the meaning behind his words doesn't pertain to cursed spirits alone.

"You should try to forgive yourself."

You look up at him to find that he's already peering down at you. He wants to tell you he can't ever possibly do that. There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't regret how he's treated you over the years.

"You're so pretty," he says instead.

You reach up to pull the blindfold from his eyes, which he lets you do without protest. The praise had made your stomach stir, but the intense look swimming in his irises increases it tenfold.

"So are you."

He leans over and places his empty cup on the table. The loss of contact almost makes you shiver, but it's only a moment before his warmth returns and he reaches up to caress your cheek.

He leans in, closing his eyes and brushing his nose against yours lovingly. When his lips find yours, they taste like whisky, but they're still impossibly sweet.

His movements are slow and deliberate, his hand creeping to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair in hopes of keeping you close. His other hand finds your waist, tugging you toward his lap.

You oblige, shifting to straddle him without breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on his chest, noting the way it rises and falls deeply beneath your palms. He pulls away ever so slightly.

"Tell me you're mine," he pleads desperately against your lips.

"Always have been, 'Ru," you answer honestly.

It makes his heart squeeze and he grabs your face with both hands, pulling it back so that he can really look at you.

"You're so sweet to me."

His tone takes you off guard and all you can do in response is press your lips against his once more. This time, however, it's more fervent--- sloppy, even--- as your hands grab at the other's clothing.

Quickly, you're both left only in your underwear and your now exposed skin is hot against his own. You can feel that he's hardened beneath you, so you press yourself against him and let out a small noise at the sensation.

He grabs your hips tightly and his cock begins to strain against his boxers. As you move, you can feel every ridge of it through the thin fabric.

"Off," you mutter, slipping a finger under his waistband and pulling at it.

He stands, easily supporting your combined weight, and lays you down on the couch. He clumsily slides the boxers down his thighs, his cock slapping against his stomach in the process. The sight of it has you rubbing your thighs together impatiently.

He kneels between your legs, pulling them apart, and pushes your panties to the side. A groan passes his lips in appreciation when he runs a finger up your slit, already slick for him.

He litters your thighs with kisses, moving along so slowly it makes your core begin to ache. By the time he reaches where you need him most, you're squirming under his hold.

His nose nudges your clit as he kisses you there and you exhale sharply.

"Satoru, please," you whine.

Unable to deny you, he hums and slips a finger inside, curling it up to hit that one spot he knows you like.

You clench around his finger, sending a shudder through both your bodies, and you mewl in a way that makes him realize how needy you are.

"N-No," you stammer, pushing his hand away despite the pleasure it was bringing you. A thin sheen of sweat has appeared on your forehead. "Need you inside."

Your plea makes his cock throb painfully and he wastes no time in positioning himself over top of you. He gently presses your thigh to your chest and enjoys one of his favorite views in the world. Lining himself up with your entrance, he rubs his head along your folds.

Leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead, his lips linger there for a moment.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he murmurs in your ear just before pushing in.

A guttural moan escapes his throat when he first splits you open. Once he's filled you to the hilt, he stills, his fists clenching. He'll never tire of the way your warm, tight walls make him feel.

"I'm yours too, you know." He takes his first thrust and relishes in how your mouth falls open in response. "All yours."

Gojo picks up the pace and you grab at his back and bicep, leaving harsh red marks beneath your fingernails. You feel so full it's dizzying.

"Just like that," you encourage him.

He looks down to where you're connected. Everything about the moment is like a drug to him--- your pretty pussy clenching around him, your breathy moans in his ear, his skin flush against yours.

He reaches down to your clit, sliding it between his fingers and rubbing firm, steady circles there. His eyes shift to your face. "Look at me."

You listen obediently, your eyes growing hazy. His mirror your own, heavy-lidded with pleasure. He pushes your other thigh to your chest to match the first. "This feel good, baby?"

You nod up at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks. His mouth finds your neck, leaving a mix of messy kisses and bites from your shoulder up to your ear. "C'mon, cum for me. I know you're a good girl."

You whimper from the over stimulation and feel your core tighten, your thighs tensing. Your grip on his bicep strains and your eyes screw shut. He knows you're close.

"Tsk, tsk," he chides, "I said look at me, sweetheart."

"'M sorry," you cry softly as your eyes pop open.

He hums, a small smile on his face. His gaze is unyielding. Possessive, in a way.

There's a light feeling in the pit of your stomach. "Satoru-"

"I know, baby." His voice is honeyed, "go 'head."

At his words, you feel your climax roll through you, the powerful sensation reaching every single part of your body. Your legs tremble weakly and Gojo thinks the strangled sound you just made was delightful.

He's in heaven. Your pussy is pulsating around his cock and you're still holding his gaze, all fucked out and beautiful.

"You feel so fucking good," he growls.

His hips begin to snap against yours at an unforgiving pace, but his movements soon become irregular.

"Can I fill you up?" He's all but pleading with you.

"Please." He takes satisfaction in the fact that you sound just as desperate as he does.

His hand moves to grab your hip. His is grip painful but elicits a moan from you that pushes him over the edge.

Your name falls from his lips in the same way a sinner begs for heaven. His final strokes are sloppy, but he still nestles himself inside you as deeply as he can

Gojo lowers his face to yours and you kiss along his jawline, before leaving a love bite on his neck. You feel his cock twitch inside you one last time. He rests like that for a little while, but eventually finds the strength to push himself back up.

He's pleased when he takes in the harsh marks he's left on your skin, a reminder that you're his. You watch him intently and Gojo can't help himself--- he leans down to nip at the fragile skin of your collarbones just a little more.

Afterward, he shifts so that he's spooning you, even if the small couch offered little space. Burying his nose in your hair and closing his eyes, his arms tighten around you.

"I love you," he offers.

It's not like you'd never heard Gojo say that he loves you, it's just something you hear a lot less ever since Geto-

You try to shift your mind away from that, staying quiet for a moment. You feel your eyes sting and you will yourself to keep it together.

Turning toward him, he's softened enough that he falls out with the movement. His cum runs down the crease of your thigh and you're left feeling empty.

Propping yourself up, you lean down and press your lips to his forehead. Your eyes well up once more, but this time, you can't make the tears disappear.

"I love you," you finally whisper against his skin.

When you pull away, you know immediately that he's noticed your watery eyes. Loving him has been the hardest thing you've ever done.

He knows that.

Instead of saying anything (he was liable to ruin the moment were he to speak, he knows that too), he pulls you into his chest and strokes the back of your head soothingly.

There's that dirty shame.

But he'll try to forgive himself because it's what you asked. Because he has to fix things before he loses you, too.

#m!writes!smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen X reader #Jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut

[appleblueberry-pie]

MORE YANDRE MILES PLSS I LOVE THEM

im just gonna put whatever comes to mind. trying to be as unhinged as you guys let me be. tell me if you want worse/weirder. fem reader.

Miles stopped caring about how fucked up he became when it comes to you. It doesn't matter when you're his only form of bliss he can find anymore. he kills every night. he can't sleep. he drains his mind and body every day. he has school grades to worry about and how he's gonna get the next 5 thousand from that one gang he made an agreement with two weeks ago. and, yet with the drugs he sees being slipped into people's hands on the way to school, and the syringes he feels cracking under his clean J's, the only thing that's pure enough to cleanse his mind, body, and soul is you. everyone wears the same shit to school every day, but you make it fit your personality and looks perfectly.

cut to the chase, he can't help but imagine being skin to skin with you every night. he wants you to rake your fingers into his scalp. fuck the fresh braids, he needs your nails on his skin. scratch his back, scalp, arms, anything. he wants marks of you on him any way possible. too young for certain activities, but when it comes to you, he'll fucking murder anyone. drug anyone, kill anyone for you. he hates when you pass him and he catches a whiff of your perfume, or even better, your natural musk. because he'll just stay in his head for the next few days. you're his high. he needs you.

he wants you to talk into his ears all damn day and never stop. he wants to hear you whisper, talk, laugh, cry, yell. everything. he never sees you crack a single smile in the science class you guys take together. But when he sees you howling your fucking ass off with your close friends, pushing, grabbing your friends, giggling, squealing with them, it just sets his whole body on fire. he's so fucking jealous of them, he just breaks anything in his vicinity at the thought of not having what you're giving them. he then began to wonder how he could have you for himself. he just wants you to give him all of you, and he'd obviously give you himself. why can't he have that?

when you pair up with him for a project in that science class you both share, he never thanked god so so so much in 15 seconds like he did when you began walking over to where he sat.

it gave him an excuse to stare at you and drink in every square inch of your body like he'd see an angel once and never see it again until he died. he greedily drinks in your scent while you speak. being able to see, hear, smell, and feel you if he tries hard enough, is almost overstimulating for him. he's great at hiding his emotions, but on the inside he wonders if this is what it feels like to take heroine. when you ask him a question about possible presentation ideas, he almost asks you to sit on his lap so he can hear you better.

Miles has been having maladaptive daydreams about you for the past year or so. so it was very difficult in that moment for him to separate his dreams from reality when he finally got a chance to communicate with you. before you left the class to get to your next period, you had already typed your number in his phone. he had already formed in his mind a way to locate your exact living apartment number. that way he can sneak in when you aren't there. miles needs you in his arms as soon as possible.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #reader #yandere character #across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42 miles x reader #yandere miles morales #yandere atsv #yandere earth 42 miles morales

[whaledenwtf]

Halsin x Dryad!Reader - The Summer Solstice

IM BACK BITCHES!!! Instead of doing my presentation for university I'm typing this. You're welcome.

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link All other links will be at the end of the fic!! ENJOY

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), BEACH SEX YEAH, Size Difference, Oh Yeah Did I Mention MATING PRESS

Once again, my efforts to keep him as true to character have been made. :)

WORD COUNT: 3630

Link to some Summer Solstice Rituals I reference here: LINK

You couldn't help but be impressed. It was the summer solstice, and the Arch Druid of the Emerald Grove handling the rituals of the day was excelling. Excelling enough to gain the attentions of Silvanus himself. You were watching his back from behind an oak tree, admiring the musculature. He was tall, strong. You liked that. Your mind flitted between the mortal and what had happened earlier in the day. The Oak Father presented himself to you in your mind earlier today, expressing his excitement of one of his followers.

"His name is Halsin. He has excelled in many of the rituals and in assisting nature. He has even reached Arch Druid status." He had said offhandedly. You were always a curious Dryad, and knew you had to investigate. You knew Silvanus was meddling but you haven't been around mortals in decades. You wanted to join the festivities after all; the summer solstice was your favourite holiday! The flowers are already in full bloom, the summer air is sweet with the smell of hydrangeas and peonies. You knew many of your companions were celebrating on their own, with nature and chosen company. You decide to get a little closer to the celebrations, walking out from behind the oak tree you were hiding behind. Many of the druids turned to look at you and gasped. Many of them dropped their lutes and violins, the sounds of nature becoming louder in the sudden silence. Many of them came to you, with offerings of honeyed mead and flower crowns. You crouch down to a small elf child holding a marigold and lavender crown.

"Little one, may I wear your crown?" They look at their parents for guidance before nodding and placing the crown above your head. It blooms further once it is placed upon you, and the smell of lavender wafts around the air. You pluck one of the lavender buds from your crown and put it behind the child's ear, smiling.

"Now we match." The child giggles in wonder, before running to hide behind her mother's leg, watching you in glee. You rise to stand, only to notice the Arch Druid had turned around to watch you. You are stunned by his beauty. His face is angular, with a tattoo on the right side and a gruesome bear scar on the left. He was perfect, in your eyes. You smile at the crowd you attracted, before walking past them to reach Halsin. When you get close, you smell him and are enamored further. Pine, musk and cedar. You can understand why Silvanus had sung his praises; he was the embodiment of nature.

"We haven't had a dryad join in our festivities yet. May Silvanus preserve you." You bow dramatically, the vines and leaves that make up your clothing sway beautifully behind you.

"An honour it is to meet you, Arch Druid Halsin. Your reputation precedes you." He chuckles, his voice deep and booming.

"I hope you heard all good things I hope." He smirks down at you, hazel eyes glistening in the twilight. The last beams of sunlight shine on the both of you. You glow with a radiance, like water reflecting sunlight, and he is attracted to you. Your beauty, your essence, is all captivating.

"Silvanus has only sung your praises, Halsin. I had hoped to see you in person and was graced by your ceremony. Wonderfully done." He blushes, the tips of his ears burning crimson. He seems at shock from your words; Silvanus has praised him? He feels truly blessed. You turn to look at the onlookers, who were still gazing at your beauty.

"Please, continue your celebrations. The Oak Father wishes you all enjoy yourselves in the time of festivities. Enjoy nature as he intended." You words were clear, and not a moment later, did everyone begin celebrating again. You turn back to Halsin, who is watching you in wonder. You blush lightly under his gaze, before sidestepping to look at the altar of light.

"Beautiful spread. I see you added citrine and pyrite; as well as some local blooms." That seems to snap him out of his spell and he nods.

"The celebration of the solstice is one I take very seriously." You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

"May I?" He waves over the altar, allowing you to do your magic. Your eyes begin to glow green, and sunflowers begin to bloom in your hand. You lay them aesthetically on the altar, smiling.

"Thank you." He tells you earnestly. You giggle at his enthusiasm, smiling as you turn back to him.

"Of course-" You look at the horizon, noticing the the sun had set. "Well, I believe it is time for the bonfire and feast! Oh, I haven't been to solstice festivities in years." You tell him excitedly.

"Join us." He tells you. You smile widely at him, and his heart flutters in his chest.

"I'd love to. I'll dance- oh and sing! I'm so excited!" You are buzzing in place. He finds it adorable. His hand goes to the small of your back ushering you forward.

"Go on! Enjoy yourself." His hand feels warm on your skin, and you blush.

"What about you?" He waves you off.

"I tend to look over the festivities. Have to make sure we do not lose any cubs." You bite your lip, thinking. You had an idea.

"What if I ask you to celebrate with me? Would you join then?" His gaze glances down at your lips before meeting your eyes.

"I can make an exception, for such a beautiful guest." You blush once again. He smirks as your skin darkens, and he can't help but wonder if that blush shows up on other parts of your body, hidden to his eyes.

"Then I will make sure to save a dance for you." You go on your tippy-toes, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, before running forward into the fray. His hand holds his face where you had kissed him, and he smiles. He can't wait.

You had spent the last hour dancing with the children of the Grove. You were showing them the dryad's dance, a sensual dance with a lot of swirling; your arms swaying. Like a willow tree you wave and sway, the wind following your movements. Your eyes catch Halsin watching at you, a heat in his gaze. At the end of the dance, you end with a flourish, arms spread up towards the moon. Flowers and flower petals fall over the children, who squeal and giggle excitedly. They come to hug you and you pet many of them, sprouting daisies and marigolds to give to each child. Once they receive their gifts, they run around the grove, chasing each other and playing. The music changes to a very familiar tune. The musicians begin playing "Down by the River", and you begin to sing. Your voice, ethereal and otherworldly echoes in nature. You begin to dance, voice still echoing. Like a siren, Halsin felt the pull of your voice, and began to edge closer to you subconsciously. Once he gets close enough, you grab his wrist, tugging him into a dance. You begin to circle one another, one of your hands palm to palm with one another. You continue to sing, your gazes locked. He is entranced by you.

"Down, down, down by the river." You end the song, twirling around Halsin. You both bow at one another, as everyone applauds you both.

"Thank you for the dance." He tells you huskily. You squirm under his gaze.

"I was hoping for more than one dance." You tell him quietly. He feels particularly emboldened by your response, and puts his hand around your waist.

"What were you thinking of?" He asks you quietly. Your hands lay on his chest.

"Perhaps we can celebrate the solstice together... privately." He hums, his arms pulling you closer to him. You feel his strength through your close bodies, and admire him further, hands caressing his chest, mapping his body.

"What of my duties?" He asks you. He doesn't seem to want to decline. You look around, noticing everyone having fun and participating in ritualistic dances.

"Meet me near the shoreline after the last song has ended and nature's music is loud again. I will wait for you." Your lips graze his gently. You taste like freshwater and thyme. His lips become numb, and his mind is emptied of all rational thought. His eyes glow amber as he watches you walk to the shore, hips swaying. A low growl leaves his chest, and he almost transforms into a bear. He can't help but curse his need to diligently do his duties. This night will feel eternal.

When the last notes of music have died down, and all that is left of the large bonfire is embers, he seeks your company. The night is dark, lit by glowing mushrooms and occasional group of fireflies. His path is dark, but he has never felt such peace. He walks the path to the shoreline, where your voice carries as you sing; the sound of crashing waves accompanying your music. His heart beats loudly in his ears, the tips of them twitching in his excitement. In all his years of existence, he has never lain with a dryad. It seems surprising, for many of his years he had taken an extensive amount of lovers, all of which were of many different races and ages. His bare feet finally hit the sand, and he sinks slightly in his continued path to you. He sees your ears twitch before you turn around, smiling.

"I was beginning to get concerned." You tell him softly. Your voice was gentle, and the emotions that burst forward from his heart urged him to speed in his walk to you, almost sprinting.

"You needn't be concerned of me." You rise to greet him, hands stretch out. He gets close enough to grasp them, and pulls you forward. You land on his chest, and are forced to look up at him. The stars are reflecting beautifully in your eyes. They are focused on his own gaze, and he has never felt more grateful for all of the actions, faults and obstacles in his life that had brought him here; with you.

"Can I not be concerned for someone I care about?" He blushes at the remark, and you notice the druid's skin darken. His hands let go of your own to grasp the sides of your face.

"You care?" You bite your lip, watching his amorous gaze.

"When Silvanus spoke of you, I must admit it was not the first time I've heard of the admirable and fearless Arch Druid Halsin. Your bravery and attunement to nature always attracted me to the idea of you. Now that I stand before you, my heart beats in tune with yours; the idea of any other being is far away in my mind. You take the forefront of many of my thoughts, and have been for the entirety of the day." His hands pull your face forward, his lips smashing against yours. This kiss was unlike the other; passion, excitement and need were felt in this kiss. You moan against him, and his tongue takes advantage of your lowered defenses. Your tongues move against each other languidly, caressing one another. You pull away from him, only to push him down so he is laying in the sand. You sit atop his lap, and begin kissing him again.

He decided that if lightning had struck him in this moment, he'd die the happiest man alive. Such words and attentions he had never heard, especially from the lips of someone he's come to admire so much. The world around them dissipated, and all that was left was them and time indefinite- your words and touches, your two souls joining in nature's basest form of love. His hands caress the sides of your body, his touch igniting heat wherever they touch, a heat blossoming in the very core of your being.

When air becomes a necessity for you both, you separate. You begin to pull his ceremonial tunic upwards, before laying it gently next to you both, taking care in the important garb. His pants are next, and his undergarments fall with them. You kneel between his legs and admire him. It seems Silvanus had taken great care in his looks, and his personality. If you hadn't known better, you'd believe him a god; crafted from your mind's eye. In a moment, he lifts himself up to remove your dryadic clothing, mostly leaves and vines, so he could gaze upon you. Once both naked, your touches become lighter, hovering over him ever so slightly. His skin breaks out in goosebumps, the hairs rising slightly.

"Your beauty is one I never thought I could ever gaze upon." You tell him sweetly. His eyes leave your face for a moment to gaze at the rest of you.

"Sitting here, with you, shows me that some of nature's greatest beauties are ones I hadn't had the chance to gaze upon yet. No words can even begin to describe how I see you in this moment; your beauty cannot be fully grasped with something as limiting as words." You crawl further up into the crevice of his thighs, your belly rubbing against his hardened member. Your noses are touching now, and you are exchanging each other's air.

"I need you." You whimper, and one of his hands grasp the back of your neck, under the thickness of your hair to pull you into a savouring kiss. His other hand goes to tread the path of your body; from grasping and playing with the pebbled peaks of your breasts, to caressing your bountiful curves to the apex of your thighs. You moan into his mouth as his thick fingers tickle the outline of your cunt, feeling the wetness that has gathered there. He moans when he realizes truly how wet you had become. His fingers then dip in between the seam of your cunt, to gather some of your nectar before separating from your lips to taste you.

His eyes flash golden at the taste of you on his tongue. Your wanton moan turns into a shriek as he pulls you up until your cunt is levelled with his mouth.

"I'm going to savour you now. Devour you, until you cannot stand, and your voice is strained. May I taste you, sweet one?" You respond to him by laying your full weight on his face. He wastes no time in savouring your scent, and... devouring you. His tongue explores your depths, as his nose bumps into your clit. You grind on him, juices flowing down his chin. He grabs your plush thighs, grinding you harder into him. He pulls away for a moment to release his grab on one of your thighs before plunging two of his thick fingers into you and sucking on your pearl. You will not last with his attentions. He is feasting on you, your moans and pants urging him further.

"That's right, my little lavender. Finish on my tongue and fingers. Cum for me." The authoritative tone his voice took shook you to your core, and you finish on his fingers and talented tongue. With a moan, your juices leak out of you. He begins to lick your mess, moaning at the taste of your essence. His grip on your thighs have waned enough for you to scramble away, legs shaking. You land with a thump on the ground between his thighs, grasping his cock in your hand. You stroke him once, then twice, before rubbing the pad of your thumb on his head and spreading his precum around. You pull away to taste him, and moan. He growls at your debauchery.

"I'm going to taste you, Halsin. Need to taste you." You huff out as if out of breathe, before taking him in your hand again. Your lips descend on him, tasting him. Your tongue was heavenly on him, and he grasped your hair in his hands, bucking into you. You moan around him, taking him to the back of your throat. He grunts at your attentions, grasp tightening. You pull away for a moment, taking deep breathes before looking him in the eye and taking him further into your mouth. You reach the patch of hair at his base, the tip of his cock hitting the furthest parts of your throat.

"O-oh. Fuck-" Hearing him lose his sense of self, and the fact he uttered an expletive made you feverish, and you began to deepthroat him, ushering him to thrust into your mouth. He takes advantage of your wants, thrusting into you. Your hands move upwards, fondling his heavy sack. Without warning he thrusts deep, finishing in your throat. You swallow as much as you could, the taste of him tart but delicious; you want more. You continue to suck and bob up and down his member, until he cums again, shaking and groaning loudly. You pull off of him, gathering the cum and spittle that leaked from your mouth and putting it back in your mouth, savouring him. He watches you with hunger. He sits up and growls, exciting you. His eyes glow amber, and without warning he transforms into a brown cave bear. You bite your lip at the transformation, aroused by his show of strength. He transforms back into his elvish form, stumbling.

"I-I'm so sorry, I transform when my baser... urges become too much." You shake your head, before sitting down and spreading your legs. Your hand spreads your cunt open, and he watches how your thighs and lips glisten with arousal.

"Breed me, my bear." His eyes flash golden again, but he refrains from transforming again. His arms grasp your thighs and pull them to your shoulders. You're bent in half, and the tip of his still very hard cock is poking at your entrance.

"Please Halsin. Take me. Make me yours." You tell him, urging him to thrust into you. He grunts and thrusts into you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the sand, breasts pressed against his chest. Your lips meet again, teeth clashing at the force of your kisses. His thrusts are rough, and he continues to hit that sweet spot. You keen in his mouth, and he chuckles breathlessly. He continues his pace, hitting that spot effortlessly each time. His hips grind against your clit with each thrust, and your body is overstimulated quickly. You know you will not last long, his passion and accuracy in driving you wild bringing you closer to your precipice.

His lips leave yours, before latching onto your neck and biting you. You caterwaul at the action, gripping his triceps tightly. Your nails are digging into the skin, but he does not care. He is selfish in this moment, wishing you would stay like this with him forever, until the world has disintegrated around them. He removes his teeth from your neck, before his lips latch onto your nipple and suckle from them. Its too much, and you arch your back painfully as you finish. Your constricting walls bring him to completion, your cunt milking his cock. You whimper as you feel his heavy load inside you, leaking around his cock. He thrusts again, and both of you seize with sensitivity. He pulls out of you gently, before laying down next to you. His arm pulls you onto his chest, and you bask in his warmth.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to you. Your head snaps up to look at him. He looks upset, his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong, my bear?" He shakes his head.

"I'm selfish. I'm afraid for the sun's rise for that may take you away from me forever. I... I do not want to let you go, my love." Your eyes get misty, and your hug him fiercely.

"Why apologize? If I could I'd spend eternity in your embrace." His arms wrap around you, holding you to him tightly.

"But you cannot." He whispers. A tear leaves your eyes.

"I'm afraid not. But I can promise to come to you again. When the wind wafts the smell of lavender and marigolds in the air, that will be me calling to you." He closes his eyes and savours his last moments with you.

"Then let us enjoy what time we have left." You nod, wiping your tears from your eyes.

Until sunrise, he spends his time with you in silence, basking in your company. He has never felt such loss when the person has not left his embrace. This time with you has changed him, and he does not know how he can continue his devotion and duties after meeting you. When the dawn breaks, you're moving out of his arms, heartbroken.

"I will visit you as soon as I can." You promise him, getting dressed in your dryadic dress. He pulls his clothes onto his body, which has become cold without your touch.

"I will not forget this moment with you-" He pauses, frowning at his realization. "And… What is your name?" He asks you, cringing as he realizes his poor manners. You look over your shoulder, smiling gently as the sun hits your body.

"(Y/N). Hopefully fate allows us another moment together, my handsome bear." You disappear with a flourish, fully bloomed lavender and marigolds left where you were standing. Y/N… Your name is sweet on his tongue, sweeter than the taste of you. He can never forget a name as sweet as yours, a name that will probably stay branded on his brain until his last breathe.

THE END.

If you'd like to request anything, please do so! I'm getting back into writing and I'd love to write anything inspired by the people! Send requests here: LINK Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: LINK

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #smut #halsin smut #halsin x reader #halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x dryad!reader #oh yeah we get sex #sex time #you call him my bear #i want him so bad #need his tree trunk arms around me NOW #im attracted to pixels help

[infamous-if]

O kay okay okayaoakayasysayas Since Rowan isn't going to be a LI can we please get his POV reaction (deep crush stage) of MC going over to him to tell him that MC is in love with one of the other ROs? Pleasee I need the angst and I love Rowan and am sad we won't be able to romance him!!

I was listening to favorite crime and kind of went a bit overboard. Please excuse this lengthy and angsty-ish drabble. Aha.... 🤒 ill keep it short next time

The soft notes of Rowan's guitar--affectionally dubbed 'Betty'--rises above his head, filling the silence of his hotel room. He strums aimlessly, absently, his fingers having a mind of their own as they move, creating a random melody that's oddly soothing. Or maybe it's the very essence of his guitar--he always feels more grounded, centered, with Betty in his hands.

Rowan's gaze remains unfocused as he plays, his head tilted, legs crossed on the balcony that overlooks the sleepy streets of their latest tour stop. A soft, pleasantly warm wind curls around the messy strands of his hair, locks sweeping across his forehead like a caressing hand. As the melody takes hold, going from mindless practice to something that sounds like it can be the bones of a real song, he closes his eyes.

Rowan has never been a good singer, but you don't need to be a good singer to make people feel something. He's learned that from the best of them.

I wonder if MC would like this.

The thought of his best friend makes a low groan sound in his throat, and with a huff he pauses the recording of his phone. Suddenly Betty's romantic notes feel like a taunt, a blade to his heart with every reminder of what he and MC are not. They're not together. They're not anything more than friends.

They're not what he wants them to be.

He knows he shouldn't feel this way about them. They're friends. They've been friends since he still thought fart jokes were funny and he had no bass in his voice. That's all they've always been and all they will be: friends.

The word has never sounded so terrible.

Still. If only...

His phone buzzes with a text and he sets Betty down. That blade in his heart only twists when he sees who it's from.

Of course. Did my thinking manifest them? The thought induces both a laugh and a sharp hint of misery from him.

He reads the text: Open your door.

He turns his upper-body to face his door, bursting up once the realization flows through him. He glances at himself in the mirror on his way there, making sure his pajamas are at least semi-presentable. It's MC; they've seen him in worst states, but level of comfortability changes when you want someone to see you in ways they've never seen you before.

In other words, he needs to look good.

Rowan heaves a breath before swinging open the door, remembering to keep the easy smile on his face. MC still looks good even at twelve a.m. after an entire day on the road. It's almost unfair.

"Heyyyy." He grins, trying to appear light. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

MC rolls their eyes. "You're not busy, are you?" They lean over to peek behind Rowan's shoulder, their eyes settling on an abandoned Betty. "Working on something?"

"Nah." He scratches his neck, self-concious. "Just fooling around. What, you need to talk about something?"

MC pushes past Rowan's shoulder to breeze inside, throwing themselves on the bed with a huff. "Iris and Devyn are out and I need to talk to someone."

Rowan takes a seat next to them, snorting. "So I'm the third choice?Wow."

They prop themselves up on their elbows, strands of hair falling in front of their face. Rowan has the terrible urge to lean over and push them away. "You're not exactly the 'serious talk' kind of person."

"Serious talk?" He gapes. "Yes, I am! I'm capable of being serious, you know. I'm not an asshole."

With a laugh, MC rolls over on their stomach and groans into Rowan's pillow. Now his curiosity is officially piqued. What could have MC so...like this?

"What's up?" Rowan's following laugh is both nervous and amused. "Did something happen with Seven?" Seven and MC have been a bit...all over the place since the beginning of the tour. He hardly knows what to call it. "Or did Orion lecture you again?" Orion is another one. That man has been relentless since tour started.

MC shoots him a look before sitting up, copying Rowan's position. His eyes flicker down to where their knees touch, to the proximity that's gone from the size of the bed to none at all.

They've been close like this before. No, scratch that. They've been closer, but this is different. This is different because everything is different.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" MC says, putting their hands on Rowan's.

He clears his throat, the skin under theirs burning with their touch. "Yeah...?"

"And we can tell each other everything?"

"Yeah." He quirks a brow at them, trying to stifle their humor. "Are you dying? Please don't tell me you're dying. You haven't even gotten rich yet to leave me anything in your will."

MC laughs but it comes out a bit uncertain. High-pitched. Rowan knows them. The same way he knows Iris and Devyn. He knows all of them like the back of his hand. So it only takes him another second to realize it.

MC is nervous.

His heart does a weird somersault in his gut.

"I have a secrettttt," MC sing-songs. Even as a joke they still manage to sing with perfect pitch.

The four words are enough to shake his very world, but he manages an eye roll. "Fucking hell, we're not twelve. Just spit it out."

"Sorry." MC palms their face, a nervous laugh escaping them. God. This must be serious for MC to be nervous in front of him? Rowan has never really gave anyone the impression of a harsh judge. Hell, he's always been an open book. "I just...I'm in love with [RO]."

He wished he didn't rush them. He wished he didn't hear those words at all. He's half tempted to grab it from the air and shove it back into MC's mouth so they can pretend it never happened.

"What?" is all the fuzz in his brain can spit out.

MC throws their self back, a wildly breathless laugh escaping them. The sound is even better than Betty's notes. "WHEW. That felt good to say it. Is anyone hot in here? I know I am."

MC keeps babbling but all Rowan could hear is a white noise in his head. MC is in love with RO. MC is in love with them.

MC is in love with someone that's not him.

"I just needed to let that out." MC huffs, gazing around the room. "You should invite me next time you play. You know I like seeing you finger Betty."

Rowan can't even laugh at the dirty inside joke they've had between them since he bought Betty years ago. It suddenly makes him feel wholly small and largely ridiculous: Rowan will never be the person for MC. He will always be the goofy best friend that makes stupid, childish jokes about fingering his dumbass guitar and the one MC goes to when Devyn and Iris aren't available.

He's not even the second choice. He's the fucking fourth.

As if noticing the change in atmosphere, MC awkwardly purses their lips and says, "I should probably get back to my room and get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

He blinks, managing a small nod. "Uh-huh." He runs a hand through his hair, feeling naked without his hat. "Right."

They stand and shoot Rowan a final look. "Thank you," they say after. a moment, "for being my friend."

He's really starting to hate that word.

But he smiles anyway. "Yeah. Ditto."

MC grins, spinning on the heel of their foot to leave the room. Rowan follows, waving lamely at them and watching as they disappear down the hall, whistling a merry tune. It's true; it does feel like a weight was lifted of their shoulders. They walk with a hop in their step. Rowan hates knowing it was RO that is responsible for that.

With a sigh he closes the door, leaning his forward against it. Spinning on his shoulder, he looks up at the ceiling.

"I need to get laid," he mumbles.

Though he has a feeling that won't do much to solve the problem in his heart.

#POV character studies are fun #though I'd like one with victoria or august #they're so underrated!!! #also this was a bit moody #I mean this level of internal pain is a taste of what most routes are going to look like in Infamous! #also pls excuse any typos or awkwars sentences i whipped this out and didn't edit it or anything i dont usually edit drabbles sorry! #also rowan is NOT AN LI!! accept it!!! live with it!!!!! (jk haha) #also idc if I’m 24 Olivia Rodrigo slaps!! #rowan hart #drabble

[yois2aki]

੭୧ if i can't save you... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x g!n reader

— warnings: fluff, descriptions of typical aib violence, fits both manga and live action, one singular suggestive remark, no use of y/n.

— summary: you arrive from a particularly rough game to an almost empty beach, thankfully there's still a specific doctor awake to treat your wounds.

— word count: 2.4k

your leg barely healed from the last game, and you had to play again already.

it was a wonder why there were so many people left in the borderlands. if it weren't for your high ranking on the beach's hierarchy and the minor hope you had to leave this world once all the cards were collected, you would have probably given up. 

it was tiring and stressful. even though so many people were living life as if deathly games weren't waiting for them the next day, you just couldn't brush away the fear of a laser hitting you on the head out of nowhere or waking up with once again new rules to the games.

you waddled to the beach's main hall entrance with the few survivors from the game you played. the three of spades should have been easy, but even you underestimated it, getting scratched violently by a black panther in between. all that mattered was that you were alive, and soon the wound would heal itself like every other did (not really, your leg was full of dried blood, stopping the wounds from opening, but still in critical condition.)

all you had to do was go to your room, take a shower, and go to sleep. there was an executive meeting going on, but you were too unbothered to even care about the hatter's waste of time. you realized everyone you knew would be either sleeping, partying, or at the so-called meeting, which was more of a lecture.

while walking around the hotel rooms, you relished the quietness. it had been a while since you were able to rest, and all you needed was a bed and a pillow to pass out on. that was until a figure in a white jacket showed up in one of the corners of the hall.

"what the-!" you gasped, jumping back at the surprise and placing a hand almost immediately on your chest while trying to catch your breath. dramatic? maybe a little. but you did get scared at his sudden presence.

chishiya stood in place while staring at you. upon regaining your composure, you looked up and noticed he had his signature raised eyebrow look, and you felt the need to explain what went on. "i didn't expect to see you there. aren't you supposed to be at the meeting?"

in reality, you had never been that close to chishiya, apart from the usual small talk due to being both executive members. you had no idea what was going on inside his head at any moment; his expression was definitely unreadable. every time you two were placed together somewhere, the awkwardness made itself present. even if you'd try and engage in a little chat, he'd end it too quickly for you to feel stupid for even trying. if he knew your name, you would be surprised.

instead of answering, chishiya kept silent. usual, you thought to yourself. as your mind ran around looking for ways to end this awkward situation, chishiya's gaze seemed to be elsewhere. your eyes finally met his, but his didn't meet yours. instead, he fixed himself on your legs. 

"you're bleeding," he said bluntly.

"oh..." you looked down at your own legs, bending slightly to take a look at the situation. your mouth opened agape once you noticed just how bad your wounds looked.

you didn't realize it the moment you got it, but the scratch from earlier must have messed up with some other of your past injuries, opening both of them up. a trail of blood was running down your legs, and as you glimpsed to the floor, you realized it was also stained by so. for how long has it been like this? you wondered. 

"yes, i'll take care of it later..." you mumbled pathetically.

it was quite embarrassing to be in this position, especially in front of chishiya. for some reason, you always messed up your words when talking to him or anyone superior overall. maybe it was because you'd picture a whole dialogue in your mind before speaking, and when actually doing it, words came out messed up and switched.

you finally looked up with the stupidest expression on your face, realizing chishiya's eyebrow had only raised more. you bit your lip in embarrassment as he spoke up again. "if you take care of that the same way you did with your other wounds, you'd be better leaving it how it is."

if you could be more ashamed than you were, you would. perhaps he was just trying to get under your skin, but the only thing you wanted to do was get out of this situation. 

you stood there awkwardly as your gaze never met his, unsure of what to say next. instead, he was the one to break the silence.

"follow me." he said after a sigh left his mouth.

and you did exactly so. or at least you tried. you noticed that chishiya didn't even bother to look behind to see if you were actually following, but you also noticed he was moving slower than he usually did, probably because he knew you could barely hold yourself on your own two feet. you weren't even sure how you knew how fast he normally walks.

your thoughts were interrupted as you realized he was actually taking you to his room. you knew this path like the back of your hand since you would always watch where he was going after the executive meetings. this was where you registered that you had been analyzing every single one of chishiya's movements without even knowing it. you probably looked like a creep as soon as you grasped it all.

chishiya opened the door to his room and finally looked at you, as well as at the trail of blood you left behind. something in his gaze — you could not understand what — changed as his movements hurried slightly.

"sit down in a comfortable position," he demanded with a voice that almost seemed caring, pointing to his bed.

you did as asked, although you struggled to be in a pleasant posture due to your legs almost opening apart. 

this seemed all too weird to you. the chishiya that barely looked your way for more than five seconds was the same chishiya that was now leaving his suite with a first aid kit, seemingly prepared to treat your wounds without even asking.

"why are you doing this?" you couldn't help but interrogate. his latest actions were way too out of character, at least to the chishiya you made up in your mind.

"i was bored," he replied sarcastically, a tone of irony present in his voice. now this was more like the chishiya you knew, even though it was obvious that wasn't the real motive.

you wanted to keep smothering him with questions because your mind was way too confused to function properly, but your line of thought was put back as you saw him kneel before you and open the box he positioned on the bed. you would have folded and turned into a blushing mess right there and then, if it weren't for the agonizing pain that decided to come back.

you got a quick glimpse of what the box held: gauze roles, sterile gauze pads, eye pads, a roll of adhesive tape, elastic bandages, sterile cotton balls... your head started almost immediately hurting looking at all the utensils that you had barely any idea what did.

"relax. focus on staying awake." chishiya said it with that same voice from way before, tense but almost sweet. he gathered something on one of the cotton pads; you could not figure out what, as your mind almost went blank. "this will hurt."

and as he finished his sentence, not a single second was left for you to process as he started patting your wounds with it. you immediately hissed at the pain, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you bit into your hand in a way to muffle your whimpers.

your head moved away from the scenario. even though you wanted to keep your eyes on such a focused chishiya, you would have probably passed out from looking at the amount of blood leaving your leg. especially now that, with the alcohol-coated cotton, which you developed a deep hatred for, he had removed the thin layer of dried blood left, securing your wounds.

he moved the piece of pad very quickly around your wounds, removing the blood as fast as he could, probably to make the process faster and less hurtful. the thing is that, if he were more patient, the pain would probably not be half as bad as it is right now. however, you were too dazed to tell him to be more gentle. tears finally ran down your cheeks as you did your best to keep one hand holding you on the bed and the other brushing them away and covering your mouth at the same time.

even through all the pain, your biggest worry was how stupid you probably looked in front of a guy who must have had something to do with the medical department — you assumed by the way he seemed so professional right now.

"calm down. the worst part is almost over." he said, not bothering to look up to guess that you were driving yourself crazy with tears from your whimpers and constant sniffling.

his words managed to comfort you for about 3 seconds, as he finally stopped moving the torturing device on your leg and you opened up your eyes, only to realize he was just picking up another one and coating it with alcohol once again.

before you could even process it, you audibly groaned in disapproval, almost forgetting who was just below you. 

he suddenly stopped, his head finally lifting to look at you with that unbothered classical look, his mouth slightly open. you looked at him hesitantly, your eyes still coated with tears and your face somewhat puffy, quickly realizing your mistake.

"would you prefer for me to leave your leg as it is?" he said it with a superior tone. even though the sentence was formed as a question, you could tell he definitely didn't mean it as one. more like a reprimand.

"sorry..." you muttered under your breath, your eyes immediately drifting away from his, trying to avoid getting his confront once more.

he kept his eyes on you for a second before sighing and shaking his head, his attention going back to your leg as he started to move the cotton pad once again. you hissed between your teeth, your hand moving back to your mouth as you closed your eyes as strongly as you could to avoid any tears from spilling.

to your benefit, this part ended quickly as he finally finished cleaning your wounds. you sighed in relief, now only a sharp but endurable pain left on your leg as you finally relaxed your muscles until he spoke up again.

"your injuries aren't that serious. you were lucky you ran onto me." he commented, staring at his newly finished job. so much, it almost made your head hurt. "there is a specific cut that would normally need to be sewn together, though. however, we don't want to hear any more whining tonight, do we?"

his words traveled immediately to your heart, your face heating up for the nth time during this whole interaction, unable to even stare at him. 

from this moment on, your mind just went somewhere else as he finished patching up your leg. you couldn't lie and say that by the time he was finished, you didn't feel much fresher and calmer, being able to look at your leg and see it coated in white instead of red. 

he finally got up with a sigh and stored everything back into his first aid kit box, entering his suite and placing it back wherever he hid it.

"thank you; sorry if it was an inconvenience," you said in a low voice when he came back. your eyes stuck on your leg, moving it around as if you never had two functional limbs before.

he stared at you, seemingly having fun with your own stuff, with a smirk on his face that, if you had caught onto it, you would have died of embarrassment once again.

"now, be careful not to get wounded like that again." he commented, turning his back to you and moving around the bed, looking for something you didn't pay attention to on one of his shelves. "i might not be as gentle as i was this time."

you were brought back from the moon as he finished his sentence. that was him being gentle? you could practically hear the smirk on his face when he said that, but it still managed to get you thinking. you knew better than to complain, though.

"what were you before coming here?" you remembered wondering a few moments before, due to his skills in treating you. the question came out without thinking twice.

you could hear him stop while looking for whatever it was when you asked that, to which he answered quickly. "i studied medicine. i wasn't a doctor yet, though."

if chishiya could have gotten any hotter to you, he just did. you bit your lip, breaking your process of thinking before your thoughts led you elsewhere. 

"that doesn't mean i wasn't smarter than most of the fools that call themselves doctors at the hospital i studied at." 

there was that snarky response chishiya was missing, you thought. you turned around to see him, finally realizing that he was actually looking for something between his shirts. you tried to peek into it, but he suddenly pulled something out that looked like a soda can, with a few cables around it. he finally moved closer to you again, handing you the item.

"it's a bomb," he added, as you rolled it around your fingers, trying to figure out how it worked. "so you can be more prepared when playing. make sure not to use it on yourself."

he clearly meant the last part as a joke, but that was something that the percentage of happening wasn't zero, you had to admit. "thanks."

even though chishiya seemed stern, there was something about him that attracted you. and something that made him help you tonight, about which you still weren't sure, happened to make you more confused. you wondered about asking him again, but knowing the littlest bit about him would make you sure that he'd just avoid the question once again. at least your leg was patched up, and you could go to sleep peacefully tonight.

— a/n: aaahh im debuting on this account... hope you guys like this little babble i made a few days ago. aib fever is back and i have a lot to say, might as well spill it out! i will make a masterlist soon enough. feel free to leave requests (if it's working) (╥﹏╥)

#୨୧ chishiyas love home <3 #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fluff #alice in borderland #chishiya x y/n #shuntaro chishiya #aib chishiya #chishiya x you #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya imagine #chishiya fanfic #nijiro murakami x reader #nijiro murakami #nijiro x reader #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland x reader #aib x reader #aib x you #aib x y/n #aib #aib fandom #fanfic #fluff

[wri0thesley]

benefaction - thoma x reader (x ayato), 4k

thoma is very used to being the third; the bystander, in these little games that ayato plays with you. but today, on thoma’s birthday, the commissioner has a different proposition. 

cw: not sfw, minors dni. dub-con due to weird power dynamics; reader is a maid and is beholden to ayato because of this, ayato is thoma’s master/lord too. cucking, kind of, of ayato. past cucking of thoma. wanting. piv sex, masturbation, mentions of bondage. use of ‘my lord’ and ‘master’ as titles. ‘songbird’, ‘birdie’ and ‘angel’ are used as pet names towards reader. reader wears a maid dress and stockings. reader is afab but no gendered terms are used.

a/n: happy birthday thoma, you may have a Crumb of pussy

The Kamisato Clan are nothing if not kind employers, so Thoma has not had to work at all today. He’d protested, of course - he had no idea how to fill his time without his chores, and he had things to do! - but Ayaka and Ayato had both laughed and told him to go into Inazuma City, have something delicious to eat, see some friends . . . and Thoma had been forced to spend his birthday away from the Estate, enjoying himself. Ayaka had brought him a bouquet of Mondstadt flowers, and Ayato had left a pile of carefully gift-wrapped books about Yokai on his nightstand, with the cryptic note;

“I hope you enjoy them; I have another birthday present for the most loyal retainer a man could ask for that I’ll bring you later on tonight.” 

It was now ‘later on tonight’. Much later - everyone in the house is in bed, except, it seems, for Thoma and Ayato. Assuming that the young Master had once more spent too long over his desk working, Thoma had just about made up his mind to go and take him a cup of steaming hot tea and gently suggest that he retired to bed when the knock on Thoma’s bedroom door had come. 

“Thoma?” Ayato’s familiar voice, all dark silk, floated through the keyhole. “I’ve brought you your other gift.”

Thoma stood up from the chair by his window, walking towards the door to let the other man in - wondering what kind of gift it could be that would necessitate Ayato delivering it so late at night. 

“You really don’t have to, My Lord,” Thoma says, as he opens the door. “The books were a wonderful gift, I don’t need anything el--”

Ayato walks in, kimono loosely tied about him, soft smile on his face - and then, behind him, with nervous little scurrying steps and a bitten lip, you step into Thoma’s bedroom. Thoma’s mouth goes dry. You’re wearing a bastardisation of the maid’s uniform that Thoma has only ever seen before when Ayato has been in a particular mood - a short skirt, low-cut neckline, stockings digging into the soft flesh of your thighs--

Only now it seems that this little outfit is solely for his benefit. Ayato crosses the room casually and easily and takes a seat that Thoma is far more accustomed to being in when Ayato and you are enjoying yourself - by the window, but facing the bed. He’s elegant as he crosses his knees, resting his chin on his hand and smiling at how you drop into a curtsey before Thoma. Softly, avoiding Thoma’s gaze, you whisper;

“M-My Lord.” 

“I thought,” Ayato purrs, tone dripping honey, “for my other gift, I might lend you our little songbird to do with as you will. I thought perhaps you might like to feel what it is to be . . .” He chuckles. “Commissioner for a night. And you don’t mind at all, do you, birdie?” 

You bob out of the curtsey and look at Ayato through the fringe of your lashes. Your mouth looks terribly kissable, Thoma thinks, as his heart beats a double-time march against his ribcage. 

“Now, now,” Ayato chides you. “I’m not in charge tonight.” 

You move your gaze to Thoma. Thoma’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of you; the swollen lips, the eyes blown and dark, your chest and your thighs and the bare skin and the knowledge of what it is that Ayato is giving him as a gift--

“I’d be glad to be of any assistance, My Lord,” you say, voice all soft and breathy. “Anything at all I can do for you . . . Please let me serve you as you see fit.” 

Out of the corner of Thoma’s eye, he sees Ayato shift - the brush of a hand over the front of Ayato’s trousers, a soft sigh and rustle. But you are still stood before him, and Thoma’s stomach is tying itself in knots. 

How long has he wanted this? How many times has he been tied to chairs, has he knelt before Ayato, has he watched as you lavished attention on the Commissioner or were fucked within an inch of your life and has longed to be in Ayato’s place? And here Ayato offers you up on a silver platter, like a gift? He can barely believe his own luck. 

“I couldn’t possibly accept this gift,” Thoma says, though he wants to grab you by the back of your neck and kiss you senseless. Wants to throw you onto his bed and spread your thighs wide apart and feast on you in a way he’s never seen Ayato do, until you’re a mess before him. Wants to fill you up until you’re chanting his name-- “It’s too much, My Lord, really--”

“Don’t be impolite, Thoma,” Ayato says, a small smile on his lips. “You’ll upset our poor songbird. It was their idea.” 

Thoma looks at you - and you tilt your chin just so, so that he can meet your eyes. Your tongue swipes nervously across your bottom lip, before you say, soft like a whisper;

“Happy birthday, Thoma. Please let me take care of you.”

Any thoughts he had about refusing the gift flow like water out of his mind as he looks at you; so beautiful, so willing, so wanting. The salacious display of your skin and the pitch of your voice and the soft gasp that escapes your parted lips as Thoma wraps one warm hand about the back of your neck and draws you closer, to press his lips against yours in a searing kiss. He hasn’t been allowed to kiss you before - and it is everything he has dreamed of. Your mouth soft against his, something sweet lingering on his tongue as he presses it against the seam of your lips and you sigh as you open for him. Your own tongue nervously presses against his, but Thoma simply sighs further into the kiss, draws you closer. 

When he pulls back, you follow him for a brief moment - your eyes half-lidded, gasp escaping, as if you don’t want him to stop. 

Ayato sighs again, but Thoma carefully blocks him out - lets himself imagine that it is just you and him in his bedroom, that this isn’t one more bizarre way for Ayato to show you both who is really in charge. He’ll let Ayato sit there, let him touch himself, let him do what he wills - if this is the only time Thoma gets to show you how he feels about you, he will seize it with both hands and make sure you know just how much Thoma longs for you. 

“Will you take off your clothes for me?” Thoma murmurs, brushing his fingertips over the softness of your cheek. He very carefully does not phrase it as an order. He does not want to be Ayato, telling you what to do with a smug smile - he wants, for once, you to have some agency in all of this. Your gaze meets his and you nod, eagerly pulling at the something-like-a-maid-costume that Ayato has you wearing. 

You tug off the dress as Thoma’s gaze roves eagerly all over your body - as he drinks you in with the hunger of a man who knows that said hunger is going to be sated. He cannot stop looking at you - imagining how soft and lovely you will feel beneath his calloused fingertips, now that he is allowed to touch you instead of merely wishing he could. 

You unclip the brassiere with a deft movement, letting it fall to the ground, and Thoma’s eyes are drawn to the curve of your breasts and how your nipples tighten and stiffen in the evening air. Your underwear is the next to go, falling down your thighs - and Thoma swallows to stop himself salivating at the thought of what’s between your legs. You leave the stockings you’re wearing on. 

“May I?” Thoma asks, motioning for you to sit upon his bed. You tilt your head to one side and smile at him in a way that makes him want to kiss the smile from your lips. 

“You can do anything to me you wish, My Lord,” you say, fluttering lashes and full lips and so beautiful it makes Thoma’s heart ache. “For tonight, I’m entirely at your mercy.”

“Sit,” Thoma murmurs, and you perch neatly on the edge of his bed. Thoma finds that he’s lowered himself to his knees before you; his palm grazes your knee, as he murmurs; “Spread. Show me.” 

You oblige him eagerly, parting your thighs to show him the slit between your legs. You’re wet; he sees the slick clinging to your puffy folds and the monster in his chest roars in approval. You use two of your fingers to spread the lips of your sex even further apart, shivering at the sensation of being so thoroughly inspected - and Thoma watches with a dry throat as you squirm beneath his gaze and grow even wetter. You like him looking at you. 

“Aren’t you beautiful?” Thoma murmurs, fingers trailing up your thigh, lowering his head. His mouth is close to your cunt, and you sigh softly - hot breath fanning across you. Still, Thoma does not use his tongue, as much as he wants to. He simply studies you, drinking in how you look like this. Utterly at his mercy. One of his fingers ghosts even higher up your thigh - and then he’s dragging it through your slit, wetting it in your own arousal. 

“Open your mouth,” Thoma murmurs, as he raises his finger towards you - and you, obedient and lovely to a fault, part your lips and let him put it inside. You taste yourself on his fingers, and Thoma is dimly aware that you’re getting even wetter at the treatment. A soft groan emanates from Ayato, beside the bed, but Thoma cannot bring himself to care. 

“Touch yourself for me,” Thoma murmurs. He’s had to do this for you several times; Ayato has made him open you up on his fingers before the Commissioner himself sheathed his cock inside of you more times than he can count. But this time, as you slide a finger inside of you up to the knuckle and use your other hand to swirl and toy with your clit, the only person that you are preparing yourself for is Thoma. You whimper, your hips gyrating upwards, a petulant frown on your face. Your own fingers aren’t enough, it seems. 

Still. Thoma watches you for a few minutes - watches the way that you shift on the bed, the way that your slick leaks out from where you have your fingers stuffed inside of you. Listens to the way your breath keeps catching and the occasional whine of frustration that falls from your lips. He lets you work yourself up until there are tears shining like fat crystal droplets in your lashline, threatening to spill down your cheeks, and then he murmurs;

“On the bed, angel. Spread your legs for me.” 

Through it all, Ayato has been making soft, quiet noises. Rustles and groans and sighs. It’s . . . it’s downright distracting, is what it is.

Thoma gets on the bed as elegantly as he can manage - settles himself between your thighs as he sheds his own clothes, as he lets his thick ruddy cock spring free. But Ayato--

The sighing is getting simply too much - and, too, Thoma can hear the rustle of fabric of Ayato’s kimono, the soft slick back and forth of the Commissioner pleasuring himself to the scene before him. Thoma, on his birthday, and with you before him all willing and pliant . . . he feels a certain kind of thrill, a bravery that he has not before thought himself privy to when so much of him is tied up with the Kamisato siblings. Thoma turns his head to view his Master. 

Ayato is beautiful as ever; skin soft and pale and smooth as marble, violet-eyed and handsome in the low light of Thoma’s bedroom with his lips all bitten to redness and his pretty cock clenched in his fist. But tonight is a night for Thoma; tonight it is Thoma’s turn to feel what it is to be the Commissioner. He has you under his spell already. So, his voice only a little dry, Thoma says;

“Did I say you could touch yourself, Ayato?” 

Ayato pauses. Thoma wonders if he has gone too far - if the Commissioner will not like being referred to so casually. But Ayato, instead, lets out a breathy sigh. His face is almost hazily pleased, as he lets his hand drop and lets his cock stand there, stiffly to attention. He wraps his slender fingers, instead, around the arm of the chair.

“Of course, My Lord,” Ayato says, with the pleasure of someone who is enjoying playing his little game. “Perhaps if I do it again you may see fit to tie me to the chair.” He gives Thoma a slow, insouciant smile, that Thoma feels in the pit of his stomach. His own cock jolts. You, neglected for too long beneath Thoma on the sheets, let out the softest little whine that licks down Thoma’s spine. 

“My Lord,” you say, all needy and wanting. “Please. I want you inside of me.” 

If, indeed, Thoma were Ayato, he’s sure he would tell you off for this little indiscretion. Pinch your cheeks and coo at you for being such an adorably wanton little thing who can’t last a minute without someone’s cock inside of you, for leaking your slick arousal all over his sheets. But Thoma is not Ayato, and this opportunity already feels like something that the housekeeper does not deserve - so instead, Thoma kisses your cheeks fervently. His lips brush over yours. 

“I want to be inside of you, too,” Thoma tells you fervently, his words hot with longing. “I’ve wanted to be inside of you for longer than you can possibly imagine, angel.”

You tilt your hips up towards him, a soft pout making your face look all the more kissable. Thoma’s eyes stray between your thighs - to the beads of slick that decorate your folds, the wetness of the pulsing hole that longs to have him inside of you. You, seeing him looking, bite your lip in embarrassment but still force your thighs wider apart. You look almost as if you’re afraid Thoma is going to find you wanting--

“You’re beautiful,” Thoma sighs - and then, his cock brushes against the silky smooth dampness of your thighs, smearing precome all over your skin. You’re still wearing the stockings, and Thoma isn’t sure if he’s ever seen a more lascivious sight than the sight of your thighs pinched by them, spilling from the thin fabric. He slots himself between the lips of your sex, rocking backwards and forwards slowly so that the tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit. You squirm beneath him, eyes bright with lust and need - and Thoma cannot help but tease you, just a little more. His cock longs to be sheathed inside of you, hot and tight and wet - but when will he once again get such a chance? 

“Tell me how much you want it,” he murmurs, fearing he is more like Ayato than he has ever thought. As if in response, a strangled groan comes from the side of the bed - and Thoma chances a single glance at the actual Yashiro Commissioner. His teeth are grit, his jaw set, his face flushed pink - and his knuckles white upon the arms of the chair, as his cock strains against the planes of his abdomen, untouched. It’s a position that Thoma has been in more times than he can count, and oh . . . Thoma never realised how delicious it would be to see his Lord in one and the same. To see a fraction of that frustration reflected on that normally serene, lovely face. 

“Please,” you say, fervent desire in your eyes - eyes that only look at Thoma, like you’ve never wanted anything as badly in your whole life. “Please, put it inside of me . . . Please fuck me, My Lord--”

“Thoma,” Thoma breathes against your mouth, and you whimper again as the head of his cock once more rubs through your sex, wetting itself in all of your slick. You squirm and tremble beneath him, sweat beading on your brow, your eyes bright fire. “Call me Thoma. Say it again.”

“Please fuck me. Thoma--”

He enters you with one slow stroke that steals the breath from your chest. He’s thicker than Ayato, though not as long, and your eyes roll back into your head quite against your will at the sensation of being so thoroughly stretched out. Thoma fancies he can hear your heart beating where his chest presses, sweat slicked, against yours. You stare up at him with a tenderness he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you express towards Ayato. 

“Does that feel good?” Thoma asks you, breathlessly. You cannot respond to him, too far gone in the pleasure, but you give him a hazy nod. Ayato chokes out another moan. “Do you want me to move?”

“Please--” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper on a breeze, but Thoma hears it - and slowly, slowly, slowly he works himself out of you. The channel of your sex clings to him like it does not want to let you go, hotter and tighter and wetter and more wonderful than he had ever imagined that it could feel. 

It suddenly does not matter the circumstances in which he found you in his bed; the only thing that matters is that when Thoma’s eyes meet yours, he feels like you and he are the only two people in the whole world. He slides back into you and your back arches, your hands coming to cling to his broad shoulders. Your nails digging into the soft skin. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you gasp out. “I--I need to-- h-hold on--”

“Shh,” Thoma kisses your sweat-beaded brow. Ayato, perhaps, would tell you off for touching without his permission - but there’s so much apology already in your eyes that he cannot bear to do the same. Perhaps he is not properly playing the role of Commissioner right now, but that’s unimportant compared to you. He looks down at you, so torn up inside with adoration he can barely breathe, letting his hips slide into a rhythm somewhere between gentle and insistent. “Hold on as much as you need, angel. You’re doing so well. You feel so good.”

You tighten at the praise, pulsing around his cock. He knows you like praise, of course, but it’s entirely different to feel it in this way - the proof of it in the way you cling to him. With every slow inexorable thrust of his hips, he thinks he falls a little bit more in love with you. 

“You feel . . . good too . . .” You say to him, though it’s entirely obvious from the look on your face and the hitch in your breath. You, too, have remembered from sessions spent with Thoma by the bedside as Ayato fucks into you with wild abandon that Thoma enjoys being praised. He feels a jolt of heat run through him. “You’re so . . . thick--”

Ayato shifts, hisses through his teeth, a soft groan falling from his mouth. Thoma ignores him. This is how it feels for Thoma, after all - his Lord should get the full experience, surely? Thoma concentrates on you. 

One of his hands slips between your heated bodies, finding your sex so his finger can toy with the pearl of your clit even as he works his cock in and out of you. You writhe beneath his touch on the sensitive bundle of nerves, but it is clear from the noises and breaths that escape you it is a very pleasant kind of writhing. Your pulsing grows more urgent, your heartbeat faster, your breath is gasped in shorter and shorter intervals. 

“Are you going to come for me?” Thoma murmurs to you, amazed at how he’s managing to keep himself in check when he feels close to melting into a puddle every time he looks at the pleasure on your face. 

“O-only if you say I can, My Lo-- Thoma--”

He lowers his mouth against your ear, watching as you dig your teeth into your lower lip and toss your head.

“Come for me, beautiful,” Thoma whispers - and you let yourself go. Your sex clenches and pulses around him, dragging him deeper inside of you, clinging to him tighter than he thought possible. Your back arches in one final graceful swoop and you cry out a noise that is pure pleasure as Thoma feels a gush of wetness on his own cock, physical proof of how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You’re exhausted, he can tell, but you wrap your thighs about his hips nonetheless with a kind of fervent determination. You keep thrusting your hips against his as the aftershocks of your orgasm recede, not letting up for a moment.

“Come in me,” you tell him, with a soft kind of command in your voice he’s never heard before. “Please, Thoma - I want to feel you come inside of me--”

It’s those words that set Thoma himself off. The thought of you begging him to fill you up, when in the past he has wasted his come spattered across your face or your breasts or your thighs, or even across his own tummy when he’s only barely been allowed to touch himself. Sometimes even inside of his own trousers, when Ayato has been feeling particularly like toying with him.

Thoma lets the thick spurts of his release fill you, pressure abating in the centre of his stomach as he gives you everything that he has to give. You whimper again, tossing your head back onto his pillows (he sees himself, later on tonight, with his face buried in the pillow and his hips rocking against his sheets as he pleasures himself remembering this moment), and he feels you come again. A smaller, quieter kind of orgasm washing over you at the sensation of being come inside by the housekeeper. 

Thoma and you are both panting - both sweat slicked and hot and satiated as he collapses on top of you, peppering a few more kisses onto the damp flesh his mouth is closest to. 

The elephant in the room speaks.

“Well,” Ayato tucks himself, still hard, his teeth grit, back into his trousers. “That was certainly . . . an experience. Songbird? Shall we retire to my bedchambers?”

You look blearily up from the bed, over Thoma’s shoulder, well fucked and breathing heavy. Thoma’s own limbs feel hot and heavy as treacle, and he groans as he stretches off of you, softening cock sliding out of you with a slick pop. His eyes glance towards the clock on the wall.

Eleven PM. 

“If you don’t mind,” Thoma says, a smile playing across his own mouth - normally so soft, now sharp as a knife. “I think I have an hour of my birthday left. And I think . . . I’d quite like to spend it alone with them.”

Ayato’s mouth drops open, for a fraction of a second - before he gathers his dignity back up around him, before he schools his face into one of those princely smiles. 

“Of course, My Lord,” Ayato says, though his voice feels a little sharp and Thoma knows he is going to pay dearly for this when he does not have his birthday as an excuse to indulge. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.”

Ayato turns on his heel, elegant as ever, and leaves in a swirl of kimono sleeves and expensive silks - but neither you nor Thoma miss the flush on his cheeks, the bulge in his trousers, the wet patch on the expensive white fabric. Ayato leaves Thoma’s bedroom unsatisfied - and Thoma himself still has an hour of your time, all to himself.

“Thoma?” Your voice comes, soft and lilting, as you reach a hand up - as your palm grazes across his hot cheek. A smile settles on your pretty, satisfied face. He tilts his own head to the side to wait for your request. “Mmm. Will you fuck me again?”

He amends his thoughts.

Not yet satisfied. 

And he is more than happy to assist in that. 

#writing #not sfw text #genshin impact x reader #thoma x reader #thoma x ayato x reader #thoma smut #ayato smut #genshin impact smut #dub con for ts #power imbalance for ts #cucking for ts #genshin impact posting