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chuluoyi · 7 days

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✎ the babysitters' club

- gojo satoru x reader

in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

genre: total crack, first years are trying their best to babysit your son to save their grades, an attempt at humor, gojo is irritating as always, fluff, fluff, fluff

note: this is sooo incredibly silly :') some inspiration are taken from the baby starfish onesie, this ask, and this illustration -> if you're wondering how gojo dressed his baby, he's looks just like that :)) tagging @3zae-zae3 <3

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Gojo-sensei... what is that wiggling starfish!?"

On one sunny day in jujutsu school... trouble is once again brewing in the form of Gojo Satoru bringing his baby son to the class.

"Starfish? No, no," Gojo retorted with a displeased expression, directing his gaze towards Yuji and clicking his tongue as he patted his squirming baby, which was still hidden from their view. "He's my pride and joy! Don't refer to him as starfish!"

"But you've got him dressed up as one..." Nobara pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed.

"That's his kid," Megumi provided, wearily sighing. God, he knew already today was going to be a long day.

No one from school had seen your seven-month old baby son yet, and Gojo was determined to make it an occasion to remember.

Beaming with pride, he gently removed his baby from the starfish-themed onesie, revealing him in a tiny black jujutsu outfit specially tailored for him, complete with miniature black glasses. He held him up, presenting him for everyone to see.

"Behold, everyone... my son! Isn't he just adorable?!"

. . . a momentary silence before—

"Oh my goodness, he is!" Nobara cooed, forgetting her earlier sentiment, immediately approaching the baby with shining eyes. "Sensei, how could you manage to have a baby this cute!?"

"Heh! Only the finest technique utilized to create him—"

"Complete bullshit—"

"Hush, Megumi! No cussing in front of my baby! I'll deduct your marks!"

"Seriously...?"

"Now, class, today I have a very, very important task for you..." Gojo said, his voice dripping with mischief as he sported a broad grin. "If you succeed, I'll personally draft a recommendation letter for each of you to Yaga. But if you don't..." he paused for the suspense, scanning his three students' curious faces.

"Then I'm failing you in my class!" Gojo continued with a grin, prompting immediate reactions from his students.

“What! Why?!”

“That's not fair!”

“Sigh.”

“All you have to do was to watch over him until I come back. Everything you need is here— in this bag!”

Megumi rolled his eyes. Nobara raised an eyebrow. Only Yuji who seemed to be genuinely interested.

"Isn't that easy?" Gojo tilted his head playfully, looking absolutely stupid with his blindfold. "There are three of you here. If you can't even manage to look after one baby, then you should not even think about romance and dating."

"Nonsen—"

"Quiet, Megumi!"

And so began the day's mission: looking after Baby Gojo until his father's return.

“Lalala~ look you’re flying!”

“Fwa...”

“Kugisaki, don’t hold him like that! You’re making him cry!”

“No, I’m not— Itadori! Don’t smush his face—!”

“WAAA!”

“You idiot!” Megumi hissed, plucking the poor baby from his clueless friends and immediately soothed him, pulling him close and patting his back. He even gently shushed him, “There, there...”

And Yuji and Nobara could only look at him in awe as the baby's wails turned into soft sniffles, peaceful in his embrace.

"Whoa... Fushiguro, so babies like you, huh..."

"Unfair!" Nobara clicked his tongue, before fixing a wide smile and waved at the baby in Megumi's arms. "Hi baby~ don't you want to held by big sister—"

"He doesn't like you, Kugisaki."

And so, that was how the three of them spent half the day—constantly watching over Baby Gojo, with Megumi supervising both the baby and his two friends.

"Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in him..." Megumi grumbled sullenly, resigned to his fate, his gaze fixed on the crawling baby while he sat on the floor and threw his little sunglasses.

For all the sighs he exuded, Megumi undeniably had a soft spot for the baby. Prior today, he had held him several times, and he'd never admit it, but he'd protect him to the best of his ability, if anything, because you had done so much for him.

“Gojo-sensei is cool!” Yuji remarked. “Of course Y/N-sensei is happy with him.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that.”

"Hey, don't you think he wants his milk?" Yuji suddenly pointed out, as the baby became fussy. Megumi nodded and Yuji immediately reached for the bag Gojo left. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to his friend, but in the process, he accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Ahh, my bad," the boy sighed, collecting the diapers and washcloth, until he realized that there were some more—

"What's that? Photographs?" Nobara picked one of them up, and immediately gasped. "Oh my! Look at this!"

On the picture was the same baby, but much more smaller and swaddled in baby blue blanket and tiny blue beanie. Most likely taken when he was a newborn.

"Whoa, wait, there's something written behind the photo..."

When she flipped it over, both she and Yuji studied the messy handwriting, instantly recognizing it as their teacher's.

Yaaay! ♡ Baby is here! I'm sooo happy you made it! But mama went through a lot to bring you here... so don't ever forget that she loves you very, very much, okay?

"This is sweet." Nobara looked at the picture with a genuine smile, until she realized that there were some more scattered on the floor.

The other picture was of the blue-eyed baby on his arms and knees, wrapped in an orange and black bee onesie, complete with little wings, and behind it was written:

Aren't you just the cutest bee?! And what's more, you've started crawling! Aw, papa is so proud! In no time at all, you're going to be as strong as me!

"What are you two doing over there?" Megumi asked, still feeding the baby with the milk bottle. Nobara beckoned him over.

The third photo was of you smiling so prettily while holding your baby, still in his bee suit, and Gojo also in the frame, wrapping his arm around you, clearly the one holding the camera to take the selfie.

Two my most precious treasures ♡ Sweetheart, I love you. And baby too!

Yuji smiled, as he felt warmth spreading in his chest. "Gojo-sensei really treasures his family, huh?"

"He is," Megumi agreed, because he had seen it all throughout his life.

"Well, no wonder..." Nobara giggled. "Any woman showered with this much love would be happy."

And that day, the trio also uncovered another side of their teacher, that his deepest affection was reserved exclusively for his wife and child.

Well, the sentimental feeling didn't last long though...

"This is our chance!" Nobara said in a hushed whisper. "When else are we going to get an extra family discount!?"

Megumi was so ready to burst a blood vessel as he held the baby—given that he had forbidden his two friends to lay a finger on him. "We are meeting Gojo-sensei here, not to—!"

"Hush! Itadori, don't you agree with me?!"

Yuji nudged his cross friend, trying to appease him. "Lighten up, Fushiguro! We can have more meat!"

At the last minute, Gojo suddenly told the three of them to bring his baby and meet him at the shopping center as he didn't want to waste energy to go back to the school. And like broke students Nobara and Yuji were, they decided to use Baby Gojo to snag an extra plate in a yakiniku place.

Megumi's eyes twitched. "This is not making sense at all, they won't believe—!"

"Shut up, you! Waiter~ here! We have a baby! So we're eligible for the family package!"

The judging stare of the waiter was enough to make Megumi combust on the spot, and yet somehow he passed the four of them as family eligible for the extra plate.

It was later, after they had their lunch that Megumi suddenly had an upset stomach and left the baby momentarily in his two friends' care.

And under less-than-watchful eyes...

"Hey, Kugisaki, meat on this side is the juiciest! Try it!"

"Ooh, you're right!"

The baby only blinked at them in wonder as he stayed in his spot. Not for long though... and it didn't help that they forgot his existence after they went to the cashier and headed out.

"Oi, Itadori! Don't forget to split the bill!"

"Oh yeah! Anyway, why is Fushiguro taking so long?"

Megumi got back right afterwards, and he frowned. "You done already? I haven't even gotten my ocha refill—" and it dawned to him when he saw both Yuji and Nobara with empty hands.

"Wait... where's the baby?"

"—! Oh my god!"

And when the three of them rushed back to the yakiniku place and approached their table earlier, Nobara almost screamed at the empty chairs, "He is gone!"

"You left the baby with the kids and told them to come here?!"

You were positively fuming as you scolded your stupid husband in the bustling mall.

"Well, we haven't gotten much time to spend together, just the two of us!" Satoru retorted, his tone sulky as he pouted. "And besides, Megumi is there. I'm sure they'll do just fine~"

You let out a sigh. True enough, being parents is no joke. Aside from stay-at-home dates, the frequency of the two of you going out had dwindled exponentially since having your baby.

"Technically, you are still on the clock though." You threw him a glare. "You're being a very irresponsible teacher."

Satoru smirked. "Heh, spare me. But I'm being a very good teacher to you in our—"

"One more word and I'm locking you out—!"

Just as you were about to give him your (empty) threat, the building suddenly boomed with an announcement from the mall's broadcast speaker.

"Attention, shoppers. We've received a report from three teenagers that they've lost a baby. He is seven-month old, wears black shirt, has white hair and blue eyes. He is last seen at Yakiniku Q—"

"Satoru..." your voice trembled, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The baby described by the speaker was unmistakably your son, and the realization of him being missing sent you spiraling into panic.

"Hey, calm down." Satoru gripped your hand tightly, his voice steady as he faced you. "We're going to find him, alright? I'm here. Don't worry."

And after taking off his glasses, in a matter of seconds, Satoru figured out where he was.

Nobara's eyes welled up with tears, frustrated. "What do I do, Gojo-sensei will fail us now..." she muttered, biting her lip.

"That's what you're worried about?" Megumi replied, turning to her with a clear glare.

"He's going to be fine! He is!" Yuji interjected, trying to reassure his two friends despite his own rising anxiety. "He’s not just any random baby—who knows, maybe he can shoot cursed energy to protect himself!"

Megumi and Nobara leveled their annoyed stares on him and Yuji immediately regretted his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I still think he can't get far from the yakiniku place." Megumi was too panicked to check with the staff earlier and just went with Yuji's suggestion to report it to be announced, but now that he thought about it— "I think we should go back."

And thank goodness the three of them returned for the second time because, this time, they finally saw the baby safely cradled in your arms, with Gojo speaking to the waitresses nearby.

"Oh?! Gojo-sensei is here!"

But as soon as the three of them came into view, Gojo immediately fixed them with his unamused gaze.

"You three..." his voice was lower and it made the three kids shudder. "What did I tell you about failing this mission, huh?"

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi were visibly spooked, immediately bowing their heads in unison as they chorused—

"Gojo-sensei, we're so sorry!"

Nobara then pointed an accusing finger at Yuji. "But it was his fault! He kept eating away and didn't even oversee the baby anymore!"

"Wha!?" Yuji glared back at her. "No! You too! You kept eating my meat too!"

"Whatever it is, I'm not a part of this—" Megumi cut in boldly. "My stomach hurt so I had to go for a bit, and they couldn't even keep an eye on him—"

You soothed your squirming son as the first years were throwing blame at each other. Gaping in confusion, you couldn't help but wonder how such a simple task had turned into this incident.

"Tsk." Gojo crossed his arms dramatically, and you knew he was just messing with them, as he suddenly turned to you with a grin.

"Nah, as both a teacher and the victim's mother— Sensei~ who do you think is responsible for this? Or should I punish all three of them?"

The three kids before you were quaking in their boots, and you really didn't have time for this right now. Honestly, if if you had to quickly pinpoint the source of this chaos...

You directed your most irked glare at your husband. "You."

“Huh?!”

“You’re the one staging this by threatening their grades, and it results in our baby being missing!”

Now you were bickering with your husband and putting him in his rightful place. Nobara and Yuji gaped, while Megumi heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does this mean... our grades are saved?"

Epilogue

"They said he fell..." You pat your baby's head worriedly as he babbled happily in his crib, your expression darkening into a frown.

You didn't really blame the first years for their lack of experience, but as his mother, the news from the restaurant staff that they had found your son falling from the chair made you extremely uneasy.

Seeing your distress, Satoru’s natural response was to comfort you until you were back to smiles again. He gently tickled his boy's tummy, prompting him to squeal in absolute joy. "Look, he's perfectly fine. You don't need to worry so much, yeah?"

"But it's strange... I'm happy he's fine, but how? Most babies will get hurt or at least be inconsolable after falling. But he was totally okay..."

Satoru shifted his gaze to his son, as now his round, crystal blue eyes that mirrored his blinked back at him with such innocence and trust that even melted his heart.

"Ah, I see." Suddenly he smiled as if he had figured something out. "This is just my guess, but you know my guesses have like... 90% of probability of being correct—"

"Hmm...?"

"He might have activated Infinity by instinct. Heh."

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yandere-romanticaa · 14 days

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⚘ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

m. - "forevermore" typically refers to something that lasts for an indefinite amount of time or for eternity. it implies a sense of permanence or lastingness.

You've ran away from your husband, the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia himself. However, have you truly escaped his grasp?

yandere! tartaglia x fem! reader.

The shimmering rays of bright morning sunlight made the living room come to life as you sat in a classic wooden chair, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. It burned your fingers ever so slightly but you could not be bothered to remove them from the cup.

The pain made you not focus on the massive bouquet of flowers which were placed on your pretty white table.

From the corner of your vision, you could see the card which clung onto the fresh bunch of blooms, the handwriting on it disgustingly elaborate but oh so familiar.

"Blood red roses." The card said.

"I always knew that you fancied roses, and I couldn't resist to get you these specific ones when I saw you looking at them."

Bastard. How he had managed to track you all the way to Mondstatd was beyond your comprehension, but in hindsight, you really should have known better. The Fatui could sneak in anywhere they damn well pleased, be it the hustle and bustle of the city of Mondstatd, to the dirty cracks of the Chasm.

It was only natural that the many agents which were stationed in the city would start to talk upon seeing the wife of a Lord Harbinger so far from home.

You concealed yourself at first, obviously. Most unfortunately, word started to spread like wildfire that you had fled in the dead of night, never to be seen by anyone. And, due to the fact that your husband did not possess a single shred of decency in his body, he proudly showed you off wherever he could.

Just the mere thought of the memory made you shudder.

Your good husband was - is - a wealthy man. He made sure to spoil you in the finest of silks known to man and the endless sea of jewelry which was sent your way, if it were to be sold, could feed an entire army.

Although, he was always particular about your arms. He didn't like seeing anything on them except for the, surprisingly, simple wedding ring he got you.

It was a promise, he had told you.

His eternal promise to you, until the end of time. He would love you, in sickness and in health, there was no force in the universe that could separate him from you.

In a way, he was keeping his promise. He made the trip from the homeland straight to the City of Freedom all on his own.

... He probably didn't even need to hear the reports from anyone of your whereabouts. Knowing him, he tracked you down all on his own, using nothing but his wit and sharp senses.

He was a terrifying man. A man you ought to stay away from, a man who had the blood of countless innocent people on his hand. And yet, those same hands would keep you warm during the cold winter, his soft and pale lips would pepper your body with gentle kisses, making you feel as if you were the most beautiful woman in the universe.

Archons, he'd whisper to himself, his breath hot on your neck, making you blush. He would just say whatever came to mind, completely lost in his blind passion.

I want no one else but you - You are my everything - I will make you mine -

Frankly, you did not know how to feel. In those private moments he was less a man and more a lovesick little fool. He could not keep his paws off you, even if he wanted to. As the evening would go on the kisses would evolve into something more, something primal, carnal even. Tongue and teeth would mesh together, leaving a thick string of saliva between him and you, to which he would always let out that darling boyish laugh of his.

You loathed the fact that in those moments, he truly was ethereal, no different than a star.

What made your skin crawl was the effect his touch had on your mind and body. He became something akin to a drug, even now as you felt the sweetness of freedom with your own two hands you still felt the urge to hold something tight at night because your husband had spoiled you rotten with his presence.

Finally, you turned to look at the flowers as the horrible realization dawned on you - you loved him. You loved that man and it was putrid.

You cannot go back. You would not go back to him.

Jumping off a building would be a smarter thing to do.

As you pondered on and on about your predicament, you failed to notice the lingering shadow in your hallway. Deep blue eyes monitored you like a hawk as he toyed with a switchblade he had in his pocket. What should he do with you? He was furious, naturally. You were the last person in the world he wanted discord with. You broke his heart a little when you left and the fact that you didn't even care about his feelings only added insult to injury.

Even so, he could not help but to feel overjoyed by the fact that you hadn't thrown out his gift. He was half expecting you to burn whatever he sent you to the ground, not to mournfully contemplate in deep thought like this.

That was how he knew you loved him. It was crooked and wrong, but he had you. He had you and you didn't even know it. He'd bring down the heavens themselves if it meant that you could feel a fraction of the love he held for you. His lips curled into a sly grin but his heart pounded like clockwork in his chest. This waiting game was so horrible.

But the hunter in him couldn't resist, cornering you like this was just in his nature.

Victory was so close, he could practically taste it. Soon enough, his wife would be in his arms, weeping and apologizing and he would soothe her, like a good husband ought to. Yes, that was how this scenario would play out.

He was too clever to let it happen any other way.

It would be just him and you, perhaps even with a bundle of joy if the Tsaritsa blessed him. Even so, with you here, he had everything he could ever dream of.

Him and you, against the world, standing by each other's side, forevermore.

💋 TAGLIST: @genshinarchives, @saturnalya @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @alatusprinz @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @lakxcpsta @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @goldenglow149

This fic was born out of my own pure passion and love for Tartaglia, apologies for the Cringe™ I put you all through.

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neckromantics · 4 months

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Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker.

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff

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inupibaldspot · 2 months

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Blue is the color of royalty.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Staring Gojo as the crown prince and you crown princess in an arranged marriage! Sexual intonation is there but nothing major. Mentions of death and cheating as in infidelity. 4.3k words (this is usually too long for me to write)

Gojo remembers that day very clearly, his throat felt constricted, breath felt raspy with the strenuous inhale and exhales, the cuff of his shirt now soaked wet as he wipes his tears furiously trying to console himself amidst the crowd.

He was six when it was announced by the emperor, his father announced an arrangement of love between the Royal Family of Gojo and the Duke of the South. The young crown prince with as equally young you, the second child to the Duke of the South.

Through his tears he hears clanks of fork and plate beside him as his two friends were eating away while Gojo was wallowing in despair, he didn’t want to marry you—he has never even seen you!

Shoko the daughter of the Duke of the North simply liked coming to parties because this was the only place she didn’t have restrictions on how much sweets she could eat. While Geto Suguru, son of Count Geto simply came because he was told to by his father.

He sniffs as he tries to console himself, he already had a fixed idea on how he wants to get married and it was not this! He wanted to save a damsel in distress-be of noble or commoner blood and wanted that event to be a ‘love at first sight situation.’

He peeps over to where a outburst was as people surrounded a small figure muttering congratulations. Surely you were there. He thinks that you were probably surrounded by leeching adults, awaiting an opportunity for a slip-up which would cause an exaggerated rumors. Adults from high society were simply like that.

Gojo stands on the ball of his feet, trying to see over the crowd and from the push in between the cracks of the crowd, he does see you.

And you were beautiful.

You were adorned with the finest jewelry, size fitting your petite figure, with a beautiful dress adorned with classic lace and pearls. He swears in between his mesmerization that you were perfect.

So mesmerized he loses balance and falls over, his butt now on the floor as he soothe the ache while trying to stand up. Geto cackled at the sight. “ What’s wrong? Your expression is so dumb right now,Satoru.”

Gojo clears his throat as he tries to maintain dignity, the dignity of the crown prince. “The lady I am betrothed to is a pleasure to the eye. I am pleased…”

Geto sighs at his friend’s already being stupid. “But you know what I heard-“ he starts. “The young child of the Duke is like a machine.”

Gojo sooner or later (over the years you visited him quite a lot, often staying over at the palace as the travel time between the capital and the south was quite long.) he totally gets what Geto’s words that day meant.

You were literally a golden child for the Duke and now, a golden wife for him; the purest of all pure bred nobles. any work done is to be completed in a day, you oversee everything that is going on in the palace and doing a good job—so much so that his mom the empress was even letting you over see some matters.

“y/n,let’s go out on a walk.” Gojo would beam, excitedly walking over to you. “The afternoon sun is pleasant today.”

You had a straight look on your face as you stare into Gojo’s eyes, as if you were judging ever inch of him. “I rather suggest you get some training done, your highness. Your body seems quite feeble.”

Gojo gwaks at you who is now walking away,with a book at hand either to the library or his mother’s side—the empress.

Somewhere along the line Gojo realizes that you were coming over to butter up the emperor and the empress. You were not there to see him. Gojo seethed . Over time any attraction he felt when he first saw you is now crumbled and blown into dust by the winds. He could not care less for a person who was so busy to even spare a glance at him—fiancée or not!

When he was fifteen he was sent to a neighboring smaller country which excelled in military and academic—the country was said to be 10 years infront of any other when it came to their literary and research.

Gojo felt like he could breathe again, his bone pops as he stretches as he is finally free. Away from you for atleast four years. This new found freedom away from your judging eyes was making feel as if he were floating—he studied he swears, his academic score was always great but more than that he also spend his royal gold coins as he drinks away even though he was under age , and maybe even a few gropes to the beautiful ladies passing by.

This was the first time Gojo had been to the red light district and certainly it was not the last. But who would scold him, he was the son of the one of the most powerful empire Gojo Satoru and was the crown prince. Who would are say anything to him? The thinks to himself as he lays currently in bed, chest bare with a lady who is not his fiancée.

But don’t worry too much, Geto was by his side too! If his parents know about this— Gojo is at least relieved that he won’t go down alone.

At the age of nineteen, he finally comes back to the empire,now standing at a taller height and broad shoulders. The air around Gojo itself feels mature…and extremely attractive—to bad he was engaged at the age of six. He loves the gaze the maids near him gives, affirming and stroking his already enflated ego.

He sends a flirtatious wink at one of the better looking maids with a larger bottom as he signals a ‘follow-me’ as his head nods to a empty room.

Just as he was about to turn the corner,a figure popped up. He had crumbled when he was six and he has once again at nineteen. You stepped out of the corner in a beautiful blue dress with inside frills of white lace, the blue puff on your shoulder adorned with gold and you wearing the same metal on your ears and neck made it so much more ethereal.

“Your highness.My apologies, I’ve been so busy with the revolt at the south border it must have slipped my mind.” You speak, why were you not as fazed as he was. “I had not known you had arrived.” Why was your heart not racing like his was?

But he must say, the years have been good to you. You were taller but now shorter than he was, the fats of your cheeks now slimmed down making the rest of your features more enhanced ,more beautiful. You blink confused as Gojo’s eyes trail around, relishing every part of now an adult you. In this instance you are the most beautiful piece of existence there is in man kind.

“What?” He wears a smug expression as he crosses his hands and stands tall. “Did ya miss me?”

You blink, as if you were genuinely confused. “Yes I did. You are my fiancé after all,your highness.”

And there goes Gojo’s resolution to not fall for you—just with these simple words, he is once again head over heels for you.

You did miss him after all! Gojo giggles to himself when he remembers the interaction,while Geto sits on the sofa, as he sips in the evening tea that was brought in. “But it’s been what? Four years since been you’ve been away.” Geto says, trying his best to control his smirk as he sees thunder clouds form on top of Gojo’s head. “Maybe y/n had been seeing someone else.”

Gojo shakes the part of his brain which reprimands him for his hypocrisy, he had been with women, lots of them when he was away but now the simple idea of a man being with you, makes him worry as if he is ill. His stomach burns with jealousy; it would be worse if it were a single man.

Many men would be worse than a few, a few would be worse than two, a two will be worse…than one? No-

—It would be the worst if you have a simply been with one man who you’ve completely undone your heart to. Does your expression form to a loving one—one he is yet to see? Do you whisper sweet words into that man’s undeserving ears? Oh how he wishes there could be a battlefield where he could fight for your love then he would not lose!

Shoko blows out a puff of smoke, which comes out of a tobacco filled-elaborately design hookah—pipe. “Nope. Your fiancée has been single as a nun.” She says in a matter of fact tone.

“Wha-wait…none?” Gojo manages to whisper out, head still wrapping around Shoko’s reply. “She must have! She does well in high society, is beautiful, anything she wears becomes a fashion statement, and she known for being intelligent! She must had a man or two to console her in the absence of her fiancé!”

Nobles have always done that, husbands leaving for the red light district as soon as he is away from his wife, while the girls wife is in bed with younger workers in bed while the husband was away.

Shoko thinks Gojo is simply bratty as she waves him off, taking another pull of air from the pipe. “Nope—your lady doesn’t play,I think I’ve only ever seen her in work mode.” While Gojo giggles to himself on how Shoko referred to you as ‘his’ lady making her and a Geto raise an eyebrow.

And boy— in work mode you certainly where in his absence of his studies because now he sits in the dinner table,completely silent.

The long table filled with lavish food,the royal couples will most likely never finish and Gojo, the crown prince sits with his mother and father, the emperor and empress with his fiancée.

It was then when he realized—no felt it to his bones that he was replaced! Your smart brain and smooth tongue had worked his way into his parents' hearts and now he sits silently, not knowing how to join into the conversation as if he was the one who was to be married into the family.

“My…your highness.” Your doll like eyes blink at him and with a flutter of your lashes and a hand placed on his thighs, Gojo feels heat rush to his cheeks. “You must eat.”

“Gojo!” His father shouts from the other side of the dinner table. “Don’t be picky, you’re an adult now!” His mother giggled, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

“Oh shut up, old man.” Gojo seethed , he stands on his feet, ready to walk away from the table. But of course his body freezes when you hold onto the fabric on his pants. He grits his teeth.

You were looking at him with a pout, eye brows furrowed as you shake your head in a disapproving manner. “You mustn’t speak to his majesty in that manner, your highness.”

But Gojo wasn’t really listening as his eyes trail down to your cleavage which was entirely exposed from this angle. God—he almost sees red, so much so that it even drips red…drips red?

You shriek, losing your cool as your fiancé stands with a confused look and blood dripping down his nose. You quickly turn to the Royal couple, “My apologies your majesties but the crown prince seems rather unwell so we will take our leave.” You grab a cloth piece from the table and rush to aid Gojo.

You place the piece of cloth on his nose as you lead him by his fingers with a gentle tug, you call out for the maids for help and a doctor while you make him sit on his bed.

The doctor shakes his head. “Your Majesty must’ve been stressed about something…or he may have overworked himself with something.”

You hum as you look at Gojo’s dumb look, a nostril filled with cotton. “What has been stressing your mind,your majesty?”

“Why don’t you think I have been overworking myself?!” He barks back, hand shooing away all of the workers in the room,leaving only him and you.

“Ever since you came back, you have simply been wasting your time away.” You shake your head as Gojo jumps,he is as guilty as charged. “You hardly even frequent the training grounds anymore, your majesty.”

Gojo turned his body and his eyes in your direction while he sits on his lavish bed as he reached out to wrap his hands around your hips,pulling you closer to him.

He rests his chin on your stomach as he looks up at you, you look down at him with a confused look. Why was he acting like this?

“Your majesty this, your majesty that—!” You almost laugh at the amount of sass in this man when he spoke those words. “Quit that and call me Satoru.” He demands.

You let out a smile, gojo thinking that this moment when he is graced with your smile has blessed his years to come. “Okay Satoru.” Gojo is simply undone when it came to you, a clumsy mess. As he feels hot in his head.

“Oh my —“ you shriek again. “Satoru, your other nose is also bleeding.”

Gojo thinks the best way to begin the day if at times when he sees you at the training grounds. After you had reprimanded him for skipping his training, the following day he wake up at 5am and trains till his training was completed by about 8am.

He sometimes see you walk down the near by pathway as he wipes his sweat, clinging to his body from the now heating sun and intense training. Gojo normally trains with Geto Suguru, now a Royal Knight of the Palance, as he is the only one who can keep up with him.

And when ever he does see you, people see the flowers bloom and the air suddenly becomes a tad bit hotter. Gojo waves his hand in the air like a child waiting for you to do the same. You lift your hands gently and offer a small wave, smile hidden shyly behind your other hand, a dignified princess indeed.

But one thing bad about your visits to the training ground? You were alone.

Gojo swings his sword, acting cool making his muscles on his back ripple as he knows your presence is in attendance for todays training. He is sure to impress you!

After his routine was done, he turns to you giving the most handsome stare he could muster with a personal gust of wind to help him today only to find you with another man… You, the crown princess with Haibara, another knight belonging to Geto’s team.

To make matters worse, you looked so adorable and cozy,body heat completely warm as he noticed you were in a jacket, a larger one, one belonging to the military. A jacket that was not his!

Gojo rushes over and quickly takes of your jacket gently before he swings it on the ground, before he gives you his jacket despite your complaint on how ‘Haibara was simply making sure I was not cold.’

He pout as you give him a confused look. “When ever you’re cold, just come to me… Don’t use other men’s jacket…”

There was one day when Gojo realized how easy you could slip away, gone forever.

You and him were in the Royal Garden, Gojo beaming at the thought that you finally decided to hang around him. Your eyes opens as you take a sip from the cup ,confused as to why Gojo was acting like a puppy when thier owner comes back home. Loveless marriage or not, you had to act like you two were in love. The palace walls have ears after all so sometimes you liked to humor Gojo—just a little.

Gojo hums as he has his chin on his hands,pupils turned to heart shapes as he beams at how lovely you are. When you suddenly dropped your cup as you look into his eyes. “y/n…?” Just then blood seeps through the crack of your lips as you tumble from your seat.

Before you fall to the ground,Gojo is quick to reach your arms before you head ground first. He shouts for help as workers and doctors rushed to them,as he wraps his hands around you pleading to the gods above that you are safe. “My love…please come back to me.”

You did gain consciousness the next morning to find Gojo looking at you with gaping mouth, the color under his eyes were darkened. Did he not sleep for the duration of your unconscious state? “Sato..ru..?”

His eyes well up as the skin near his eyes and cheeks flush red, with the first stream of tears you are engulfed and pushed into his arms as he bleeds your ears on how worried he was.

While he was away, he had not been a good human being if he were to be honest. Many of his letters from family,friends and you remain closed, probably burned to ashes by now. If he had gone through his letter maybe he would have been aware that it was found that you had a rather frail health.

While Gojo sniffles into the crook of your neck( he is definitely taking advantage of the situation ) you smile to yourself, a tiny one. Yes. This is the Gojo you remember being engaged to. A clumsy spoiled but good kid.

Shhh—Did you know the walls have ears?

But this time they are talking. There are whispers among the maids, worker, butlers and even the stable cleaner that her highness the crown princess has an affair—a lover. I mean after all your fiancé is a tall attractive man who is literally the crown prince. If such a person was showing such open affection but you were not reciprocating it? Hmmm? Suspicious! I rest my case.

“I was careless…” you mutter to yourself as your look outside the tall palace windows, eyes a few workers who were cleaning up stray leaves by the poarch.

“About what,love?”

A sudden reply to a question where you weren’t expecting an answer made you jump slightly as you peered to see Gojo looking at you with a smile on his face. “Good morning,love.” His hand reached around your waist as he bends down and kisses your forehead. Gojo has been acting far too much like a husband ever since he has been back from his studies and you were still not used to it.

“Kyaa— look it’s the prince and princess.”

“They’re so love dovey first thing in the morning.”

“I guess the rumors on the crown princess is fake…”

You two stilled as hushed whispers were heard. Gojo seemed rather displeased that he was interrupted plus evesdropped on as his hands comically tighten into a fist. “Those insolent fools must not want their tongue…How dare they listen to us speak—“

But you on the other hand had your eyes wide, hands near your mouth as you gape in realization.

Bingo!

You quickly turn to Gojo who seems to still at the unfamiliar attention as he jumps slightly, as you walk closer and place your hand on his chest which sends his heart heat racing. “I need you to act like a lover to me.”

Gojo blinks once.

Twice.

“Was I not a lover to you all these time—?!” He barks, a vein popped on his forehead.

You stare at him with pretty blinks of confusion along with furrowed eyebrows, “what are you saying? You’re my fiancé through arrangement.” You say in a matter of fact tone. “You and I are not lovers, Satoru.”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheeks, his heart is filled with unwanted emotions—anger, sadness,disappointment,shame? Fine! If he wants you to act like a lover— he’ll act like a love. Your lover.

Before you know it, one of his hands slips around your waist as the other grabs your face, his nose now against your cheeks making you shudder at the sudden change in vibe.

He smears his lips around the corner of your lips first, your makeup which took too long for your taste now smeared. He decides to now nip your lower lips, making you gasp as you feel him make tiny licks and nips. “Sa-satoru…” he groans when you say his name.

His lips are finally on yours as the corner of Gojo’s lips tug upwards when he was met in realization that you are eagerly waiting for him with soft presses of your lips as his tongue slips in pretty easily. Something bubbles inside you chest when your thoughts trail to the fact that Gojo was an exemplary kisser—your chest tightens harder when you are reminded of Gojo’s visits to women of the red light district.

You were aware of these but back in the days, you were not bothered at his actions at all—Gojo was simply beautiful after all. You did not mind ever since you first got engaged but at this moment, it tightened your heart as if leaves a nasty aftertaste.

You probably don’t know that Gojo has never stepped inside such business ever since he got back home—to you.

As he sucks, wet presses on your tongue and bites —just as you were feeling lightheaded and wanting more Gojo pulls away.

“Satoru…?” Gojo muttered as swear when he sees your disheveled state, hair a mess, clothing slightly crumpled and lipstick smudged in the sexiest way possible.

“What?” He feigns cool as if there isn’t a significant tightening in his pants as he turns around. “I’m just acting as your lover.” If he wants you to act like a lover. He will do as you say.

Now the walls are giggling, yeah…this phrase isn’t going to cut it anymore. The maids whisper hush talks to the chefs and chefs to the delivery man and then the public. The news is that the crown prince and princess were so in love, they could hardly be apart.

The crown prince sweeping the princess of the ground pulled into a hug, the crown prince sheepishly nuzzling into the princess’s crook of her neck as he comes from behind, quick passionate kisses along the lavish hallways when they think no one is looking( the pair know that they are looking.)

The opportunist in you quickly suggests to his father that it is wise to release the copies of letters you had sent to him when he was away—yea, you made copies of your letters. The emperor was pleased, he laughed and entertained your suggestion. Gojo at this point has given up on making you realize his feelings and simply does what ever you say…

The public raved over the release making the royals more likable to the public, there were even talks on how they already could dream of you and Gojo as the ruling royals.

For the public that wish does come indeed true in the worst possible manner.

The emperor had suddenly fallen ill as he falls into a rough bloody cough, sometimes can hardly eat plus with no energy that he could barely stand. By rule book, in such scenarios the duty as the governor of the empire falls onto the crown prince—Gojo thinks he is ready, he was born to do this after all but all preparations were interrupted when the revolt in the South became a bigger issue more so because that is the region you came from.

Your father, the Duke’s troops kept getting ambushed and were losing morale quickly. Gojo watches you who was praying , to the gods that your father and your people be safe. If that is your wish, he shall be your god.

The same night Gojo groups up his men and marches south. This is the least a husband can do for his lover.

You almost faint when you hear this news,muttering nervously under her breath when you were having a fig-jam toast breakfast in bed. The toast falls from your mouth. “What?”

Now you think you are dreaming, it was one disaster after another! You gently rub circles on your father in law’s hand as Gojo’s father calms you. “It is a duty of a ruler to help his people… Gojo will come back victorious,my dear. You worry too much.”

The empress soothes you, otherwise a straight faced person with never an emotion on your face becomes such a mess for her son. As long as you are by Gojo’s side, his mother can stay assured for the rest of eternity. If you were by his side, Gojo will remain smiling.

It took one season for the idiot to arrived, his hands broken and now hangs on a sling. “I hope you’re not too angered by my actions.” Gojo knew he was wrong to march off that day, he was unprepared too but when he saw the tremble on your fingertips, he simply wants nothing but to make you secure, safe.

He watches you walk towards him before you say. “I think I am dreaming your highness, I had not known you had arrived.” You still has a straight faced look as if your fiancé is all injured with even a broken arm, voice still so steady.

Gojo laughs at this but just as he was about to reply with a snide remark he is cut off, your lips are on his. “You worry me too much, your highness. I fear you are not good for my heart.”

Gojo kisses you. His working hand snaking around your waist. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be when he was away and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to mark every inch of you.

“How ever m-“ you push him away, gojo whine’s already craving the plush of your lips. “I am very displeased by your action. Even if you are the crown prince it is wiser if your discussed with the strategists and make a plan first. That was very—very unwise of you you highness. I cannot from the depth of my heart believe you would do something so stupid— honestly Gojo I thought you were so much smarter than that . Your behavior is very much unacceptable-“

Gojo almost bleeds from his ears as he listens to you lecture him, the crown prince, future ruler now on his knees. He fights back a smile fearing you would be further angered but his mind was filled with thoughts of , ‘shit, I can’t wait to be with this person for the rest of my life.

‎‧₊˚✧[Ending Thoughts ]✧˚: I almost made this a smut halfway through buahaha (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

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brain-rot-central · 5 months

Text

Unholy Desire

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x female!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, religious kink, breeding kink, innuendo, dry humping, mutual pining, reclaiming sexuality through kink, they talk out their feelings

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Takes place in Act 3, pre-Cazador. You've finally made it to Baldur's Gate. You take time to offer prayers to your God after coming upon a small church on the outskirts of the city. You and your lover have grown closer over these long weeks, healing past wounds within your hearts, minds, and souls. Your desire has grown to become... sinful. You have a choice to consider: your Oath, or your lover?

This is the third camping spot you and your team find on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Rotating spots every few days was probably the best course of action, lest the Flaming Fists come to chase you away in the middle of the night.

You find an old abandoned church during your inspection of these latest campgrounds. It has been a while since you had a proper spot to sit and pray. Lathander has been kind in your journey, thus far. You hadn't offered thanks nearly enough for shining light in the darkest depths of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Despite the challenges you faced, you and your companions arrived safely to Baldur's Gate. You kneel down behind a bench within the church and fold your hands in prayer. You hang your head and close your eyes. The sun begins to warm your skin as it shines through a crack in the church ceiling. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; Lathander is receptive to your prayer offering.

You don't recall how long you remain in that position, praying to the Morninglord. When your eyes lift up, you notice that night has fallen. You see a faint glow in the distance, surely that of the campfire. Faint bits of conversation travel along the night air. The conversation sounds jovial; it's probably fine for you to stay here a bit longer.

Astarion stands in the doorway to the small church, eyes fixated on you as you kneel once again in prayer. He'd come searching for you after your companions failed to reveal your whereabouts. He scoffs softly upon entering the abandoned structure. He thanks the tadpole nestled in his skull for affording him the luxury of waltzing straight into a church. Were this a few months ago, he surely would have burst into cinders upon the first step.

You hear a small 'crunch' off to your left; your head shoots up and your eyes settle on Astarion, who is frozen in place. You will your features to soften at the realization it was only your partner, your lover, who came to check on you. "Are you certain you're a rogue?" you speak to him through the darkness.

Moonlight pours through the ceiling and bathes his face as he comes closer to you, now within full view. He looks ethereal in the pale light. The moonlight reflects off his silver hair in a halo. His eyes glint like newly-polished ruby gemstones, his skin glows like the finest cut ivory. You find it challenging at times to believe he is your mate on this journey. Difficult to accept that the two of you had shared a bed on multiple occasions. The thought makes your mouth dry and your head swim. You shake your head slightly, clearing your mind of such perverse thoughts.

"My dear," he begins, his signature posh tone dripping from each word, "if you've truly forgotten just how deft I am with my hands..." Astarion sits next to your knelt form. He drops a hand to cup your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his, "...then perhaps you need reminding."

You swallow thickly as he holds your face, and watch his eyes begin to hood. A smile graces his lips and he releases your chin. He scans the church briefly, snickering. "What in the hells are you even doing here? It's rather... drab, darling."

You stand up and brush yourself off. You proceed to then sit next to him on the bench. "I'm praying, Astarion." You take a deep breath in and meet his eyes. "Lathander has been most kind on our journey. I haven't given him nearly enough of my thanks."

Astarion audibly scoffs. "Ugh, I can clearly see that. But why, is my question."

"We made it safely to Baldur's Gate," you explain. "That's more than enough to be thankful for."

Astarion suddenly stands up and over you. A scowl graces his visage, "And you didn't think to tell me you'd be here?" He places one hand upon his hip. "No one had any idea where you'd gone!" His face falls and he averts his gaze to the side. "I was... concerned that you were still out in the city."

You chuckle. Astarion has a softer side to him that sometimes slips out of his otherwise gruff facade. It makes your heart sing with delight each time you see it.

"I'm Baldurian, my love. Remember? I know the city streets quite well." You reach out to hold the hand at his side, and his palm wraps around yours. "I also happen to be a Paladin."

You follow his eyes as they fall upon the floor. The grip on your hand tightens. "And it's not exactly a daily occurrence to have a blood-thirsty vampiric master hunting you." He sighs, soft eyes regaining their focus on you, "Please, darling, just give me some warning next time."

Ah, he's worried you may have been snatched by Cazador. You stand to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. "My apologies, Astarion. It was not my intention to make you worry." You bury your face in his neck and breathe in. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy; his signature scent. You feel your body slowly mold against his as the smell floods your olfactory receptors. There have been many nights you've fallen asleep dreaming of this scent. It was oddly comforting to you. It makes you feel safe and secure.

Astarion rests his hands upon your hips and leans his cheek against your temple. You stand together in the small ruined church, holding one another, bathed in moonlight from the cracked ceiling above. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me," a low rumble escapes his chest as he speaks. His hands begin to snake up your back, his palms resting on your shoulder blades, "Any clue what I think about when I'm alone in my tent at night?"

You slide a hand up into his hair, twirling the locks between your fingers. You litter featherlight kisses along his jawline, and he tilts his head back to give you better access. The hand in his hair tightens, holding him in place. A soft groan escapes his lips as you lick a stripe up the center of his neck. "I don't think you've ever told me," you say.

He shivers within your touch. You watch his eyes flit to the back of his head as you suckle at the scars upon his neck, "Hells, Tav, I've told you so many times..." his voice comes as a soft whisper into the night air. Astarion's hands slide down your back and to your waist, gripping your hips.

"Remind me," you insist as you watch a purple mark bloom on his neck. His hips stutter into yours, and you feel the hardening length of him ever so lightly brush across your mound. You tilt his head to gain access to the opposite side of his neck, and your mouth descends once more.

Another moan escapes his lips and he lowers his face to your ear. "I..." You feel his hands sink lower, coming to rest on your backside, "I think of you below me." Astarion’s breath is cool yet heavy in your ear as his hips begin to meet yours in a soft rhythm, "Or, bent over, with my cock splaying your darling little cunt."

Your hands drop to his biceps as a shutter passes over you. Your hips involuntarily grind against his, pleasured groans slipping free from both of your lips at the joint friction. His hands grip your ass and he holds you against him. You feel the outline of him press against your sex; your walls clench around the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you.

You lean back in his hold and he dips his face to your neck, nose tracing the outline of your pulse point. You shiver as Astarion begins placing chilled kisses against your carotid artery, and you once again lace your hands through his hair.

"I think about your greedy pussy milking my cock for as much of my spend as it can…" Astarion takes a hand off your behind and guides it to your clothed mound, pressing his fingers slightly upward as he swipes across the general vicinity of your clit, "...until you’re positively overflowing, and my seed weeps down your folds into a pool under us." You buck into his palm at the pressure of his fingers. Your hips grind down instinctively against his hand, and you mewl into his neck.

"Please," you beg, "what else do you think about?" Your voice is airy and ragged. You notice the door of the church is open, meaning anyone could see your current state, were they to come over. You feel a sensual twist in your abdomen, and your hands begin untying Astarion's trousers. You need this man stripped and bare before you, getting caught be damned.

His hands come to rest upon your own. "Oh dear, whatever could I have possibly said to put you in such a state?" he feigns coyness as he takes over for you, undoing the knots to his pants. “Are you certain you can handle knowing more?” You raise your head to meet his gaze and nod, slowly. Your eyes are hooded over in lust and you feel a warm blush begin to creep across your face.

Astarion raises a hand to cup the side of your face in his palm. His lips come to grace the shell of your ear, nipping at it softly with his blunted front teeth. The hand on your cheek begins to slide down to your throat and his fingers wrap around the column of your neck. His grip tightens into light pressure against your throat. “Do you truly want to hear…” his tongue traces the curve of your ear down to the lobe, “how I bring myself to completion…” his teeth tug at your earlobe, “...at the thought of you, swollen, with the ultimate consequence of our couplings?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle. You groan and extend your neck, a silent offering to the hand on your throat to hold tighter.

He guides one of your hands between the apex of his thighs and cups his swollen length in your palm. Even clothed, you could feel how hard he is. It sends electric shooting down your spine, resonating as a throb of your sex. He sucks in a breath at the pressure of your hand. A broken moan escapes his lips and he speaks into your ear again, “Have you any idea how terribly my body yearns to breed you?”

Your head swims, slowly losing all connection to this material plane of existence. To carry the child of an undead would be blasphemy; you would lose your Oath and fall out of favor with Lathander. Yet… you breathe heavily at the thought of being pumped so full of cum that your womb no longer has room for it. Your pussy throbs at the thought of falling pregnant from such a situation. You feel wetness gathering at the center of your thighs.

“Wouldn't that be the epitome of a holy offering to your God of life?” Astarion moves to press his forehead against yours, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“He's…” you try to rasp out a reply, but your voice fails you. Your face is burning and your thoughts are a muddled mess.

“He's what, dear?” You can hear the amusement in Astarion's voice, knowing he has gotten you to the point where your mind can no longer form coherent thoughts.

“He's… also the God of birth,” you force out. You feel his cock twitch against your palm as the words leave your lips. A shiver passes through you at the thought of giving birth to an undead child, Astarion's undead child. Would it even be possible?

“My, my…” You manage to open your eyes and catch the devious smirk gracing his lips, “how entirely sinful that would be. Your holy womb, thoroughly disgraced by the planting of my seed.” Astarion's lips form into a pout, his voice taking on a soft mocking tone, “I wonder if your God would forsake you for such a thing?”

You often forget Astarion is an undead; he played the part of the living so well, would easily blend into any crowd. Yet, during times like these, he relished in his unholy attributes. He'd long teased you about your devotion to Lathander, went on long monologues about how the Gods were graceless and inevitably forsook everyone. He'd told you how he prayed to every God he knew of during the year he was sealed in a tomb by Cazador. None had answered him. He was bitter, you knew this. And yet… he was also enamored by your devotion. Jealous, even, that your attention was divided between him, and a God.

Your arms come to rest upon his shoulders once more, and you move your head slightly back from his. Your eyes find one another; you hadn't noticed before, but your chosen conversation is having an impact on him, as well. Astarion's pupils are blown wide, the reds of his irises becoming thin rings. “...Could we even do that?” you question, “Could we actually… could I… Now?”

A chuckle escapes his chest. The corner of his tips turns upward into a smile. “Now probably isn't the best time, my sweet. Unless you'd like an audience.” He nods his head in the direction of your companions sitting around the campfire.

Suddenly, your periphery vision returns to you. You recall you're in the small abandoned church within camp, with your companions mere feet away from you. You'd almost begged Astarion to take you within earshot of your companions… in a church, after having just finished your prayers. A scowl graces your lips at the thought.

“Oh, don't be so sour,” Astarion says, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, “We can always try to make this a reality later tonight?”

“Astarion, is it even possible for you to sire a child?” You watch his lips purse into a flat line with your questioning, obviously offended, “I mean, with your… condition.”

Silence stretches long between you. You watch his gaze fall to the laces of his trousers and he begins to retie the knots. The silence is uncomfortable, and you begin to fear you'd said the wrong thing. Yet, you genuinely did not know. Could it happen? You'd not taken precautions during your past encounters. Could it have possibly… already happened? You shift uneasily and remove your arms from his neck.

“...I read a book while out with Gale one afternoon,” he finally says, grasping your wrists before your arms return to your sides. His fingers weave between your own, joining your hands. “He'd been raving about visiting ‘Sorcerous Sundries’ again. Something about an old, dusty tome of some sort,” he scoffs. “I haven't a damned clue what he was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. “You went out shopping, willingly, with Gale?”

“I know,” he sighs, “rather unbecoming of me. Though, I often have reasons for my madness.” He raises one of your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, “One being… us. And what our future could be.”

“Astarion…” It dawns on you: he took the afternoon with Gale to research this very topic. To find out if this could ever be a reality for you both.

He unlaces one of your joined hands and brings his palm up to hold the side of your face. “As it turns out, so long as you keep me well-fed, that of which you already do…” a genuine smile graces his lips, “this could very much be a thing between us.”

You smile and raise your hand to cover the one on your cheek, turning your face into his palm. You kiss the inside of his palm, “I think it's best we return to everyone else, lest we get tempted again to start.”

“Of course, dear. I would have to agree,” Astarion turns toward the doorway of the abandoned church, holding out a hand toward you. “Our chosen company of weirdos may turn up with pitchforks should I not return with you in tow rather soon.”

You place your hand in his and follow his lead toward the doorway. “Another night, then?” you suggest.

“No, my sweet,” he says, kissing the back of your hand once more, “tonight would make a lovely opportunity to start.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #inspired by ruby #thank you ruby #your writing is always *chef's kiss*

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slvttyplum · 1 month

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toru is def an ass eater… CAN YOU WRITE A SMUT BASED IFF THAT

honestly i’ve gotten like three requests about satoru being an ass eater so this isn’t a whole fic but more of the basics.

now, satoru being an ass eater is something I believe; it’s just so him. to him, eating pussy is all fine and dandy, but give him the real substance, the real meat.

he’ll lay you on your back and push up your hips so that you’re arching and get to work, his favorite part is squeezing and kneading your ass in the process.

he isn’t shy about it, either. he’s going to eat your ass like he’s hungry for it, and then some. the tingly sensation from him swirling his tongue around and then his fingers swirling over your clit, that was overstimulation at its finest.

why limit himself to only one thing when he can do both. his mouth and chin sopping with his saliva, dripping it back on your ass.

at first, you weren’t a fan, until satoru swooped in and ate that, which was so good, he had you shaking and moaning.

he loved that nasty stuff; he loved being outside the norm. we had mr. ass eater over here, and he didn’t give a fuck who knew; matter of fact, he will tell the whole world he was one, because that’s how much he loved it.

there was something so euphoric about being in between your big soft cheeks just swirling his tongue around and up and down your ass crack, if it wasn’t soaked he wasn’t doing it right.

by the time satoru was done, your ass was filled with his saliva. this man loved eating you out so much that he would moan while he was doing it and even cum.

he was versatile and had no shame about what he was doing. while his other friends were talking about eating out their girlfriends, he would proudly say he ate your ass and ate it well.

satoru was a D1 munch; don’t play with him. if he was going to eat your was, then he was going to make sure you came in the process. there was no room for error or games; he was going to do it, and he was going to do it well.

“i couldn’t let my boyfriend eat my ass, i’m so-.” stop right there because neither of y’all give a fuck to listen.

your man was a muncher, for both your pussy and ass, he ate it up yum yum yum with no problem lem lem, like be real, if you say satoru didn’t eat that ass up you would be lying.

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yrbladie · 6 months

Text

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎WHEN THEY LOSE YOU ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ ayato, diluc, kaeya, neuvillette, zhongli

warnings ：angst, hurt no comfort, mentions of death and body (yours), sad bois, some have quite a comforting ending, others not so much, gn! reader, established relationship, implied marriage (ayato, diluc, zhongli), reader is called 'beautiful' (kaeya), spoiler free, non fluent writer

ㅤHe doesn't weep at first. Don't get him wrong, though, it's just that how could he ever fathom the thought of not having you by his side anymore?

ㅤYou were taken from his arms so suddenly that he wondered if you were ever real since the start, or only a fragment of his imagination, something that had always only belonged to his most beautiful dreams.

ㅤThe only way he knew you were indeed real was by the way people would talk behind his back when they thought he wasn't paying attention, talking about how sloppy he had become. Or the way he would still find small bits of you sprawled over his desk. Trinkets you gave him, and the letters you had sent to him the last time you went to visit your homeland for a week, knowing your lover would miss you too much.

ㅤIt suddenly dawns on him at that moment. How you were not there anymore, how he would never see you again, see your bright and beautiful smile or hear your giggle at his poor cooking skills.

ㅤAt that moment when he suddenly misses you, Ayato gets up and goes to visit you. In a place he never thought he would see you. Buried under the Sakura tree you planted with him last summer, the one where you both had wished for it to be as eternal as your love for each other.

ㅤHe sees your grave filled with flowers and gifts from the people you had known, and even finds the bouquet of flowers Thoma had sent under his name. And he kneels beside it, staring at your name written there.

ㅤHe still felt guilty, that he was not there for you when you needed him the most. That he was busy with work above anything else again. He could have protected you oh so easily, and he wasn't there.

ㅤ"I hope you can forgive this stupid lover of yours, my dear."

ㅤForgive him for everything. Forgive him for not loving you better, and for not being strong enough to be there when you died nor when you were buried.

ㅤAyato now knew, dreams are never meant to last.

ㅤWhen people saw you both together on the streets, with Diluc carefully holding your hand or touching the small of your back to guide you through the streets, like you were made of the finest porcelain, everyone thought they were going crazy.

ㅤThere was no way, the master Diluc Ragnvindr, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt, unmatched in every possible way, had gotten himself a lover.

ㅤWhen you arrived it was like a breath of fresh air for everyone who knew Diluc. You made him a different man, made people see a different side of him Diluc himself doubted existed.

ㅤAnd you were everything to him. Until the fateful day you were forcibly taken from him.

ㅤBut still, he couldn't hope to grieve, he had no time to let himself stop and rest, not even for a minute. In a minute so many things can happen, just like in a minute you were gone.

ㅤDiluc still had Mondstadt to protect, and he would focus solely on that for as long as there was still air in his lungs. Even if his torn heart still churned in pain everyday.

ㅤEven if in the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, he would still sit alone in his dimly lit room, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. The walls of his manor, once filled with laughter and love, now seemed to echo with the emptiness of his loss. The air was heavy with the scent of fading memories.

ㅤEverything in your shared room is a bittersweet reminder of the warmth that had once been, now slipping through the cracks of time.

ㅤOutside, the world moved on, without you. And Diluc couldn't understand it, for his world was you. Every moment without you felt like an eternity.

ㅤAnd in those short moments he wept. Letting the pain flow freely, as if by releasing it, he could somehow reach across the chasm that separated you both. And he still could somehow feel your presence in brief moments, a soft whisper in the breeze or a fleeting glimpse in a dream.

ㅤDiluc had experience in mourning, and he knew that one day, the sharpness of his pain might dull, but his love for you would remain eternally vibrant, a testament to the life you had shared.

ㅤIn his own way, he would carry on, honoring your memory with each step forward, holding you close in the chambers of his heart, as he navigated the path of grief, one tear and one memory at a time.

ㅤIn that way, Diluc could forever hold you close to his heart somehow. The idea that you would have liked that he kept protecting those you had come to love, gave him comfort as he got up for another day.

ㅤYou were his first, but also his last.

ㅤOh, to be loved by the Cavalry Captain, with his deceiving smiles and well thought words. People used to call him such a heartbreaker before you came along and showed to all that Kaeya Alberich could be so much more than that.

ㅤIt seemed like he always had a smile reserved only for you. Different from the grins and crooked smiles he gave for others. With you nothing was ever fake, you had managed to tear down the walls he built to keep himself safe each and every time, no matter how much he tried to keep you at an arm's length.

ㅤBefore Kaeya even noticed you had already made a home in his heart and had no plans of leaving.

ㅤBut of course, fate had always found its way to mock him. He could but only watch as your life slipped past his fingers like sand, no matter how much he held onto you and begged the skies not to take you. Not you too.

ㅤIn the end, Kaeya still had to carry back your lifeless body to Mondstadt, back to your home where you belonged.

ㅤBut did he still belong there now? He was once again reminded of his purpose, the destiny that hung heavily above his head, like a death sentence forever haunting and taunting him. A destiny he just couldn’t seem to escape.

ㅤCursed to loneliness, to destruction. He should have known he didn’t deserve all the happiness you had brought along with your love to his wretched life.

ㅤYou had slipped away, leaving behind a void that seemed insurmountable. In the beginning, Kaeya refused to acknowledge the cruel twist of fate. He clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare, a cruel illusion that would dissipate with the morning light.

ㅤDays turned into nights, and reality set in, stubborn and unyielding. The denial that had once shielded him from the harsh truth began to crumble like a fragile dam battered by the relentless waves of sorrow.

ㅤHe still remembered everything about you. While others would talk about how sweet you were to everyone, Kaeya would remember the laughter shared on lazy Sunday mornings, the whispered promises exchanged under a blanket of stars, and the simple joys of a life built together.

ㅤHe still had your portrait on his desk, a painful reminder of how beautiful you looked when you smiled up at him. And he still wondered how you were. Are you happy now, wherever you are? Are you safe?

ㅤOr do you miss him like he misses you?

ㅤKaeya only found solace on those lonely starry nights, where he laid by himself on the grassy field he always hated, saying the grass always got stuck at his hair as you laughed, calling him such a drama king.

ㅤAnd as the first rays of dawn began to set in, he smiled.

ㅤThe pain remained, a constant companion, but it transformed into a tribute—a testament to a love that transcended the boundaries of mortality. With a heavy heart, he got up, in a silent acknowledgment that life, though forever altered, would continue.

ㅤHe would carry your cherished memories with him into an uncertain tomorrow. With a newfound strength—a resilient ember burning in the ashes of loss, Kaeya had to carry on.

ㅤEven if his fate overtakes him once more one day, the whispers of your voice, urging him to embrace life would always remind him that there was something out there worth fighting for. And that one day, when his body and heart rests for one last time, he will meet you again.

ㅤThe skies of Fontaine have never been cloudier than since the day you died. The rain poured down, seeming endless. Like a mourning prayer for another loss the nation held.

ㅤYour funeral was quiet and quite lonely. You had not really been a person that went out each and everyday, or that easily befriended all that you met through your day. You were a common person, like any other in Fontaine, maybe just a little weird with your outlander ways.

ㅤBut Neuvillette still loved you anyway.

ㅤYour love for each other was nothing grand nor loud. It was almost timid, but shined brightly like an unwavering ember.

ㅤSo it didn't come as a surprise that no one knew about your relationship with each other. Neuvillette was, before anything, an important and key figure in Fontaine, his every move scrutinized under the city's gaze, yet whose true emotions remain hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

ㅤEven to the end, he couldn't even attend your funeral. Watching from the sidelines, like an outsider. He watched as your loved ones paid their respects, leaving their flowers and good wishes that you now may be safe, in the arms of the gods.

ㅤNeuvillette wanted to scoff at this. The gods were silent as their people suffered under their gaze. And most of all, there was no space for people like you on their golden mighty thrones.

ㅤWhen everyone parted and left only your lonely tombstone, did Neuvillette finally came to pay his own respects as the rain fell heavier, a reflection of how he felt inside. Like a storm that could never break free from the clutches of a well maintained facade of a composed judge.

ㅤYou made him so vulnerable as each time you touched his skin, his heart longed for more of you, with feelings he couldn't understand.

ㅤIf only he had noticed sooner, if only he had met you sooner.

ㅤIf only you were still here. To show him comfort once more.

ㅤBut as the calm and collected Iudex wept by the lonely grave, you were still gone.

ㅤAnd in the next day and even the next after that, every day became an act. An imperturbable, endless theatrical piece. Worthy of even being presented at the opera house.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still conducted each trial with unperturbed accuracy, the outside seemed to have forgotten about you. But not him, never.

ㅤHe still heard your voice, just outside his office, while you laughed with the Melusines. He still asked for two cups of tea to be prepared and people wondered who the other cup was for. And he still had the official documents where you accidentally doodled on and had apologized profusely for doing it, but Neuvillette had never held it against you.

ㅤAnd he still loved you. Each day when the rain started again, the pitter patter sound followed the judge as he disappeared through the corners of Fontaine to find you once again.

ㅤHis life was destined to be eternal, and so was his love for you, despite the fact you weren't by his side anymore.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still found small flowers and trinkets left on your grave, he knew he would not be the only one to forever remember about you.

ㅤThe God of Contracts was no stranger to loss and to mourning. He himself had buried more friends than he could count.

ㅤHe had an immortal soul and an unyielding memory. His friends were forever reminders on his everyday life, that he got to walk the places they never had a chance to see.

ㅤEvery time, he caught himself reminiscing about you, about your shared laughter under the bustling night time of Liyue, and the dreams over breakfast.

ㅤAnd how fate took you away from him.

ㅤThe town now seemed to be filled with a haunting silence, even if nothing much had changed. The vendors still called for him to eat and buy their products, he still watched the same plays and stories. But now every corner held a memory, a reminder.

ㅤDays turned to nights, and nights into days, but the pain persisted, insistently. Zhongli found solace in the shadows of the past, where memories of your happiness still lingered like a sweet melody.

ㅤHe never thought of himself as someone to be stuck in time. But your presence and your loss seemed to have made an ever deeper impact on his life than he initially thought.

ㅤAs the years went by, he would still wait for you. With the hope and the heartache that the skies would relent at his incessant prayers and return you to his arms, in another form, in another life, it didn't matter.

ㅤStill, he knew he was not alone. Hu Tao would pat him in the back gently in an almost nudging manner every day, encouraging him to go out again, to rest more. And slowly Zhongli felt like he could gather the shattered pieces of his heart again. Like his wounded soul still had a purpose.

ㅤEven if his body and mind eroded until there was nothing more left of him, he thought that all the memories of you would still be his most cherished treasures.

ㅤAnd so, in the quiet town where love once blossomed and sorrow cast its shadow, Zhongli would learn once more to carry the weight of loss with gentleness. The stars above forever witnesses of his eternal and enduring love for you.

ㅤIn the small shrine he built above your grave, where Zhongli could still feel your presence sometimes, through your pictures and the incense. His heart was finally at peace.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ《◇》

#genshin impact angst #ayato angst #diluc angst #genshin angst #neuvillette angst #zhongli angst #kaeya angst #genshin impact x reader #ayato x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin

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feyascorner · 4 months

Text

Food is not something he's indulged in since he was turned.

He must've enjoyed it once, as every other undead being he's surrounded by. But when he lifts a wine glass to his lips or sips at a broth, all he can do is scrunch his nose, disgusted by the way it tastes. The only thing that satiates him now is blood. He's gotten used to it by now.

So why in the hells he'd thought he could make you soup to soothe your aching throat, he has no idea.

Surely, it can't be terribly difficult? Just a few vegetables, broth, and a pretty bowl to put it in. It would make you feel better if you didn't have to get up and cook for yourself, and he'd get to sit by your side, teasing the way you seem to sneeze every few minutes.

Unfortunately, he's finding that he was horribly wrong.

"You can't feed them this!" Gale exclaims with a groan. "It really is a simple recipe, surely you can make this much."

Astarion glares at him, then back down at the pot of soup sitting pathetically on the stove. He sees Gale testing it one more time with a spoon and shuddering, flinching at the taste. He would taste it himself if it weren't for the fact that it would taste terrible regardless of the culinary quality, but alas, all he can do is narrow his eyes at the deceiving concoction in the pot.

The wizard sets down his testing spoon and sighs. "Look, we can try again tomorrow. We should really feed them soon, anyway."

Astarion frowns. He's killed people and defeated dozens of monsters, and he's brought down by this? A bloody soup? All while getting scolded by Gale, of all people?

He hasn't even tried the soup, but he feels a bit sick.

"Oh, did you guys already cook?"

His ears perk at the sound of your voice, and you pace into the kitchen, wrapped in one of his many blankets. His chest swells at this, but hells if he'd ever show that on his face. "You should be resting, darling."

"I will. I'm just hungry," you sniffle, reaching for the pot of soup. And before Gale can stop you, you're already pouring yourself a serving, and you slowly lift the bowl to your lips, taking a long sip while the said wizard gawks.

Astarion's eyes never leave your expression as you bring the half-empty bowl down to the counter, swiping at the excess in your mouth. You seem in thought, raising a brow before turning to Gale. "Are you experimenting with recipes?"

"It's certainly not one of my makings!" he recoils, almost offended. "I'm afraid I have to give this honor to my friend, here."

Astarion rolls his eyes, readying himself for your criticism of his cooking. He knows you wouldn't be as inelegant as Gale when speaking your concerns about the damned soup, but he thinks it might have more of an impact on him anyway, simply because it's you.

Getting his feelings hurt over a bowl of soup would certainly be a new low for him.

You stare at him for a moment in a painful silence before lifting the rest of the bowl to down the rest. Even Astarion blinks this time, watching in utter disbelief as you drink the soup like the finest wine in Faerun.

And when you set the bowl down, you shrug. "It's good."

Gale's jaw drops, but all Astarion does is stare at you with wide eyes. You yawn, trudging back to your room without another word, his blanket trailing behind your heels. He only snaps out of his trance when he hears Gale sigh obnoxiously loud at his side.

"It's your lucky day. It seems the sickness has rendered her tastebuds malfunctioning."

Despite the embarrassing way, he feels the tips of his pointed ears flush, Astarion cracks a triumphant smile.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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yandere-wishes · 8 months

Text

‧ ₊˚✧ Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon ‧ ₊˚✧

Summary: There's a crack in Neuvillette's heart that bares your name. He sheds a tear for you each day. Yet once you return to Fontaine with your fiance. The cracks and tears begin to grow.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, arranged marriages, affairs.

Author's note: I'm sorry 😭💔😭💔

There've been rumors circling around Fontaine. Ghostly whispers floating between coral-tainted lips and fervid ears. The rumors spoke a bittersweet name. One Neuvillate had long since buried. At first, the notion of your return had felt like a bad dream. like the roar of a tsunami before it crashes on shore. Terrifying yet, ultimately unreal. He'd summed the rumors up to some traveler who bore your mien. To an erroneous article by the steam bird. Anything. anything at all.

Anything that wasn't you.

It wasn't until after a particularly grueling trial that he'd witnessed the truth behind these rumors. There you were in all you're glory. Gleaming akin to the finest pearls laying dormant in the primordial sea. Your expression, when he could catch it, was gleeful, delighted, A drastic contrast to his last unfortunate memory of you. His eyes follow the delicate movement of your gloved hand as it stifles a cheery giggle pouring from your cherry lips. It's only after noting your delight that he becomes conscious of the gentleman accompanying you. A ginger with bloodthirsty eyes and a soul that reeks of carnage.

A splash of heat rolls down Neuvillet's cheek. Right before a splash of cold splatters across his temples. his attention narrows on the sky, as the

clouds begin to weep. What once was a peaceful sunny day shatters like a wine glass on porcelain tiles. Humidity threads through the air robbing him of his breath.

It's raining.

How fitting, Neuvillette thinks as he watches you and your companion run to find shelter.

Neuvillette recalls your smile almost as clearly as he recalls your pulse under his teeth. The taste of your flesh as his teeth left bloody love bites in every wrong place. He remembers saying I love you, albeit there was more to it than that. It had started with I love you and ended with every truth he'd forgotten how to tell. He had shed his human masquerade, in the hope of finding true love. You had screamed that night. You had screamed every night since.

Neuvillette thumbs through his memories. As the rain outside grows more ferocious. He remembers you standing by the sea, he remembers you telling him the phobias that ran deeper than blood.

You hadn't been from Fontaine, not originally. A fallen gear from an ancient automaton whose kin resided across the sea.

You'd been raised in the ways of the hydro court. Even if 'raised; was too generous a word. Morphed or sculpted may have been more appropriate synonyms. You grew up clawing at your own skin, trying to find who was underneath the layers of mindless expectations. You'd been raised as a lady and grew into a harrowing beast that feasted on the stars.

Yet even creatures of unparalleled strength had their weaknesses. Even ever-blessed vision wielders bore a certain Achilles heal.

Yours so happened to be your incompatibility with your foster nation. Or rather with the water itself.

When people asked, as some had tended to do. You'd weaved them tales about serrated Pisces and dorsal-finned leviathans with open maws awaiting their prey. You don't tell them about the vastness, the dark blue landscape that feels all too wide and all too endless. You don't tell them about the things you swore you've seen lurking beneath the infinite waters of Fontaine. And you most certainly leave out the parts about the creature who engraved fear upon your bones many moons ago before you even knew how to walk.

Neuvillette remembers your eagerness to leave. That had, ultimately, been your bonding point. He'd been an outcast. The supreme justice was ever only relevant when he upheld the law. And whilst Supreme Justice Neuvillette was revered and adored by all. Plain Neuvillette was nothing more than a shadow of evaporated water that hunted the streets of Fontaine. You had never wanted to mingle with the people. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it was fate that had brought two lonely souls together all those moons ago. Maybe it was something else.

He had loved you. He swears it on the Hydro archon ( or any other Archon who lacks Furina's fickleness) He'd tried to show you that the waters of Fontaine meant you no harm. He'd even shown you his true form, the utmost assurance. Maybe that's why you fled. Maybe that's why you'd left him heartbroken one morning when the sun didn't rise.

It had rained that day. As well as the following days. Until the surrounding islands ceased to exist.

You'd left him hollow and alone.

Yet your return made the cracks in his heart fester.

Neuvillette had taken it upon himself to cloak you in his watchful gaze.

He'd come to notice how you and that dreadful Fatui Harbinger you'd come to associate yourself with. Rather liked taking long walks

where the sea kissed the shore. He'd also noticed a ring of Snezhnaya Alexandrite perpetually wrapped around your finger.

Neuvillette's footsteps are heavy as they collide with the concrete. He's closer today. So close he can practically smell the scent of citrus and eucalyptus. If he reached out with his powers he could surely touch you, feel the warmth of your body bleeding into him, just like old times. He misses you, yet a part of him pities your return. Neuvillette's grey eyes follow your desolate gaze. It rips open one too many wistful wounds.

"So then Teucer said...Hey darling are you listening?"

Childe's eyes follow your frozen glare, tracing your line of sight straight to the menacing waters that refuse to part from your side. You hear your lover mumble a faint 'right'. Before you feel his silk-clad fingers dance across the back of your neck. Flirting with the chilling fear that rolls off you in waves. You pin your body to him, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his cologne as you bury your head in his neck.

"I'm truly sorry for this darling" Sincerity rolls off his tongue, percolating into the tender kiss he presses to your temple. "I've just been feeling...down lately. Like this inexhaustible sadness is going to swallow me whole. Fontaine was the only place I could convince the Tsaritsa to transfer me for a short while. I just, I need a break from it all." You answer him in a low melodic hum. You get it, truly you do. Sadness is a poison, acidic in nature. It engulfs one's soul. Melting away their purpose, their resolve. Eating away until it reaches their hearts, their desires. It leaves behind empty shells and broken pieces too fragile to ever fully mend.

Who better than you to understand the pains of being soulless, bereft? A mere shell awaiting a miracle that had died long ago.

There's a voice, carved from velvet and silk. It rolls across you like a tidal wave. Potent yet soft. It whispers your name and calls out in hopes of mending broken hearts. You turn to look behind you. All you see is the endless sea.

It's only on the fourth day of your visit that Neuvillette permits you to see him. Actually, see him. It's no longer his ghost that haunts you nor the empty waves that he commands beckoning you by name. It's him, really him. His glare is relentless as he leaves a prolonged kiss on your knuckles. You're in the middle of a conversation with that dreaded harbinger. Something about his older sister wishing to take to shopping upon your return to Snezhnaya.

"My darling it's been all too long, how fare thee my-"

He's cut short, how rude. Yet far be it from him to expect proper mannerisms from the Fatui.

"Hey, I'm having a conversation with my betrothed. Don't interrupt." Childe's eyes morph into his own glare. One which promises blood and violence. The fates of those caught on the other end of said glare are never pleasant.

"As the chief justice of Fontaine, I have to right to interrupt any conversation I see fit."

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. Choke the fear down with a cup of Fonta and ask Neuvillette to join the two of you. It's the nostalgia talking really. Some remnants of the past collide with the present causing your heart to adopt an unsteady rhythm.

It's after that event that Neuvillet permits his presence to be seen by you and your "lover". He's always a mere breath away, following under the guise of being a gracious "tour guide". But tour guides do not wrap their arms around a lady's waist when her fiance isn't looking. Nor do they sneak kisses behind open parasols. You haven't protested about any of this. Maybe your fear of the hydro dragon has perished, replaced with a yearning for your former lover. He prays to every star in Tyvat for this to be true.

It's on the day of your departure that you receive the bad news in the form of an army of Gardemeks. Childe is being arrested, something about a serial disappearance case. Something about a trial. It's a ruse you feel it in your bones. Neuvillette personally appears at the docks and holds you in his arms as you weep. He assures you this will all be cleared up soon. That you have nothing to fear.

But you do, you have all so much to fear. Neuvillette permits you to stay at his house whilst the trial takes place. He traces the shimmering blue of your veins with his lips. He says he loves you, that he refuses to let you slip from between his fingers ever again. He'll keep you here. Keep you safe. Away from the Fatui.

Away from Ajax.

How he wishes he could tear the universe apart with his teeth. Part the oceans and bury the two of you under it. He dreams of keeping you by his side away from everyone else. Neuvillette is the chief justice of Fontaine, it's a prestigious role, one that demands trust. Yet maybe, just this once. He'll have to find the accused guilty regardless of the evidence.

Tag list: @rebeccawinters @fangirl-katwithclaws @starshiningsirius

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happypolicecherry · 20 days

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Alhaitham

Alhaitham is the type to think his s/o is overreacting while arguing with them. He's convinced that he's right and would just be humouring you by wasting his precious time on this useless banter.

He had already won before you could lay your case, so why do you keep insisting that he's wrong? Like, why are you overreacting by fussing over a small matter when Alhaitham had already voiced out his reasons? There's no way you're even slightly right.

Alhaitham already connected the points and drew them solved right to the finest detail. He'd just rest his back leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Stupid turquoise eyes staring directly at you, watching you as you lose your shit in front of him

One crucial point that Alhaitham always forget is, people, grow frustrated when having to explain their point repeatedly to a person who's often said; not up for a debate because they're right. Alhaitham is exactly that kind of person.

So you can only imagine the slight shift of surprise in his expression when he hear your voice crack. Although it was brief because you stopped talking as soon as it happened, it didn't go amiss with Alhaitham. He only began to feel something tug his heart when you looked away from his direction with your head tilted downward, and your fingers lightly touching your eyes.

For once, Alhaitham is taken aback, and his stance begins to waver. Tossing his pride aside, he fast-paced to where you are standing. Although not panic strikened, he dislike being the cause of your tears.

Diluc Ragnvindr

As for Diluc, he'd listen to what you have to say until it involves things he disagrees with such as mending with Kaeya, taking a week off from doing his darknight hero gigs and also letting you help him.

Don’t get him wrong, you are important to him. But some things that you want to happen just does not align or sit well with him, he just genuinely will never be able to find himself compromising for it, so he would rather be straight with you.

"I don't think that's for you to decide." He would start being sharp tongued when you keep pressing on matters he dislikes speaking of. A bad habit of his but he'll never admit it. He would try his best not to dismiss you completely and wants to ensure you, what you are feeling is important to him.

Tragically for Diluc, his main problem is the fact that he forgets he has to be vocal about it. And not just stood there while staring into your soul with his eyebrows furrowed, the idea of you not understanding his thoughts completely leaving his mind.

So, when your voice starts wavering from confident to doubtful, Diluc realised something was wrong. His body would automatically release all the tension he was holding in, his expression softened slightly as he discards his own ego and reaches out for your wrist. His warm hand fills you with comfort almost immediately as he gently pulls you closer to him.

He does not want to see you upset nor does he wants to lie to you, so he chooses to put this argument to rest because it will just disturb you further if you keep trying to change things that his mind is set on. We all know how stubborn Diluc can be once his goal is set. Fortunately, even fire can’t stay bright and roaring forever if you keep trying to extinguish it.

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc comfort #diluc x reader

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brittle-doughie · 2 months

Note

There's a Valencringe event held at CRK's official discord server (sadly I didn't join cuz I'm busy), and this one card cracks me up because this definitely would Shadow Milk cookie give to Y/N cookie XD

Happy (late) valentine's Day anyway

By WildfireOwO on Twitter

A Cringe Day for Chocolates

Oh yeah, some of these submissions were pretty interesting to me lol

Shadow Milk finally had you in his clutches, Pure Vanilla and White Lily watching in stunned horror as you emerge from the chaos, dressed up just like those faerie jesters along with those haunting eyes and wide smile. It was even worse when Shadow Milk Cookie was there beside you, as you two started to romantically dance with each other, with Shadow Milk dipping you in a bow.

“What’s the matter, you two sillies? You don’t recognize your own pal? It wouldn’t matter anyway, they’re mine now~”

———————————————————————

By _leviroyale on IG

“Why waste your time with so called heroes when you can realize your full potential with me, my dear~? I’d appreciate EVERYTHING about you that my other half wouldn’t~”

“B-but that was my rose for them! My card!”

“Shut it, will you!”

“No!”

Old lady cat-fight ensues

———————————————————————

By: CelestialStari on Twitter

“My liege, I present you the finest chocolates as my gift.”

“Heh, that’s nothing! Hey, Baker! Gotcha a real shiny chocolate coins for ya!”

“A Paladin of the Light believes that only chocolate that comes from the heart is the best for someone they cherish!”

You thanked the number of cookies who came to the tower to gift you chocolates. Then along came Pure Vanilla.

“My Baker! I gift you this flower form my garden, for it represents the beauty that you hold in my eyes!”

You didn’t even get a word out before PV got on his knees and desperately presented the flower to you.

“PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!”

He only stopped when you took it from him.

#cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #dark enchantress cookie #pure vanilla cookie

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cypherdecypher · 11 months

Text

Animal of the Day!

Tasmanian Giant Crab (Pseudocarcinus gigas)

(Photo in Public Domain)

Conservation Status- Unlisted

Habitat- Coastal Southern Australia

Size (Weight/Length)- 17 kg; 46 cm width

Diet- Carrion; Crustaceans; Starfish

Cool Facts- Being one of the heaviest species of crab, the Tasmanian giant crab is the apex of its environment. These crabs live a slow life due to their size. They eat as many bottom dwellers as they can, helping to build up their extremely thick carapace. Despite being relatively slow, they can slam their giant claws with enough force to crack open mussels and other crabs. Once every nine years, Tasmanian giant crabs molt their carapace and can be threatened by large species of sharks and seals. People see the crabs as a delicacy, but their harvest is carefully regulated and only specific sizes can be gathered. When a crab has enough strength to snip off a finger like a carrot, I salute anyone who gets within pinching distance.

Rating- 12/10 (Carcinization at its finest.)

#Animal of the day #Animals #Crabs #Crustacean #carcinization #Thursday #May 25 #Tasmanian giant crab #biology #science #conservation #the more you know

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llamagoddessofficial · 6 months

Text

It was the best hidden room in his castle.

Nightmare appeared, emerging from within the liquid shadows at the far corner, taking on a solid form. The room had no doors- that was the trick to it. Only a being who already knew the room’s location in the castle, and had the ability to transport themselves through space, would be capable of accessing this place.

... Though there was no door, there was a window. Just one. A circular skylight, directly above the bed... it gave a perfect view of the stars.

It was a small, comfortable chamber, the obsidian walls draped with finely embroidered midnight blue tapestries to maintain warmth. Ancient murals, moons and interlocking patterns that had long lost their meaning, inlaid with silver- the silver caught the light from the small glowing blue stones that dotted the walls. The room was barely brighter than a dim twilight.

Of course... the most important thing in the whole room was what was at the centre.

... Nightmare approached your bed.

A fine bed, of course. A large canopy draped luxuriously, for even more warmth, protection and quiet. Only the best for you. You were tucked under sumptuous sheets, your head upon a satin pillow, sweet little face barely visible under all the layers of comfort.

... He reached out, tucking the blanket down slightly, to get a better look at you. You were so peaceful. Your cheeks had regained some colour, over the past few days, as had your lips- but your eyelids did not move.

He knew what it looked like. If his damned brother found this room, and the sleeping human, he’d jump to conclusions (as he always did); Nightmare had stolen a human, cursed them with eternal sleep. Worst case scenario, Nightmare was tormenting this human as a sick game- best case scenario, Nightmare has grown so feverishly attached he would rather have someone sleep in his arms forever than be free to walk away from him.

...

And... well. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t enjoying having you this way. But it was missing one crucial detail.

... You would wake up the moment you wanted to.

He sat on the bed, beside you. He reached out, and gently stroked your hair... enjoying the softness and texture.

You didn’t stir.

Nightmare had felt your pain far across your universe. Like a moth to a flame, he came to you- and though he originally had only the intent to feed, he loved you the moment he laid eyes on you. Your Soul, such a pretty thing, cracking under the weight of its pain; the fractures sparkled like fault lines in a diamond. You were holding the agony within, unwilling to let anyone know. You were on the verge of shattering. On the verge of your Soul going out.

When he came for you, you didn’t protest, you didn't even struggle.

You had looked at him with an empty, accepting expression.

Perhaps you thought he was death? Cute.

... So he took you, instead. You let him put his arms around you- he had never had someone accept him so completely, his jealous desire only intensified. He carried you back to his palace, he cradled you lovingly. Once your eyes had closed, he laid you down in the quietest room, in his finest bed... cuddled under his softest sheets and guarded by his most possessive magic.

The spell in question was one he hadn’t used in a long, long time. There was nothing on any Earth that could forcibly awaken you from your slumber. No sound, no touch, no pain nor magic. No power he (or any other great being) possessed, nothing in the wide multiverse. Nothing could awaken you from the outside.

But... the moment you wanted to open your eyes, you would. The tail of the Rupert’s drop. As if waking from a pleasant midday nap, the spell would shatter into dust around you.

It was a one-way spell. That was what made it so powerful.

... He continued to stroke your hair. Your dreams were safety- he ensured nothing crossed your mind but visions of peace and warmth. You curled deeper into his dreams like a hibernating rabbit. He could sense the injuries in your slowly Soul mending, your wounds slowly healing, as you were finally allowed to rest.

You had yet to even think of opening your eyes.

At that moment, the moon emerged. Its light passed through the skylight window... catching a small array of crystals that hung above your bed. Flecks of iridescence silently scattered across the walls, and over your face.

“... beautiful.” He murmured. “no one will ever hurt you again, my darling. no one. i promise.”

...

... You, of course... did not even stir.

#concept was clacking around in m brain like a marble #llama writes #its one of the kindest things nightmare has ever done #he didn't expect to enjoy being kind so much #might have to indulge himself a little more~

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oliviajdjarin · 11 months

Text

Azriel Shadowsinger: Sex Habits

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Headcanons (more like a bunch of imagines) about how Az treats his mate in the bedroom and otherwise.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, smuuuuuuut. Azriel is a switch, so is reader, swearing, lord of bloodshed cameo. This is pretty fucking dirty.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you @cherryjain17 for this amazing, inspiring request. I hope I did it justice.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(pic from pinterest)

Morning

-I am of the opinion that Azriel fucks you differently depending upon the time of day.

-Let's start with morning, shall we?

-Azriel is a scheduled, reliable male. Training in the morning, always, no matter the night he had before. He owed it to his High Lord to always be ready for a fight - physically, and mentally. His constant, consistent training was how he maintained that.

-However, what Rhys didn't know about what he partook in before training wouldn't hurt him.

-When Az would wake in the morning next to your - usually naked - sleeping, curled, warm body, hair sprayed across the pillows, scent unique to you filling his lungs, face painted in pure elation and serenity...

-...yeah, he would get a little hard.

-The best was when you would wake up with him, eyes dull with sleep, but their color still bright. A small, languid smile on your face. He couldn't help but touch you in that moment, his body begging him to satisfy every sense he had with the feeling of you.

-He would begin with your face, dragging the knuckle of his pointer finger across your cheekbone. Opening his palm to feel the entirety of your cheek. Tracing down the column of your throat with his pointer finger. Painting across your collarbone with every digit. Cupping your breasts delicately, fondling them, massaging them. Dragging fingers down the center of your stomach, heating up every inch of it before finally...

-...yeah, I think we get it.

-The interesting thing about sex in the morning with Azriel is that, although it begins slow, he goes fucking fast in the mornings. Pounding his fingers into you over and over again, your cum dripping down his fingers and wrist. When he finally tastes you, it's a feast. Sloppy and wet and messy and you're groaning and he's smiling so fucking big. He gets you right on the edge of euphoria before pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to your lips and turning you around, face pressed against your soft pillow, and plunging himself inside of you without a drop of mercy.

-(All of this happens within minutes because, like I said, he's got a schedule to keep).

-As he ravages you, pumping in and out and in and out faster than your brain can process, he fucking sweats. It drips down his back, down his face, across his lips, down his chest, everywhere. Your still drowsy body loves when you scrape your nails down it, coating your palms with it and fucking up his previously clean, fluffed hair with it.

-The finest, perfect part about his sex in the morning is that, even though it's rough, quick, rabid, he holds you close the entire time. He cradles your head in his forearms, litters your spine in passionate, lingering kisses, holds your hips like a cracking sculpture, caresses your scalp, thighs, and lower back.

-It is a paradox; rough yet gentle, greedy yet giving, horrid yet beautiful, quick yet endless, and hateful, yet some of the most loved you ever feel by him.

-When he finishes, and you finish multiple times, he departs you with only a kiss, and rushes down the stairs to make it in just enough time for Cassian to not suspect anything.

-He gives you smirks and winks all day anyway, much to your chagrin.

Afternoon

-Around mid to late afternoon is when Azriel tends to get an itch.

-An itch to step away from it all: his desk, his tasks, his responsibilities.

-Sometimes this itch can be scratched by something simple: a walk around Velaris, or a flight, a cup of cocoa, or even a quick nap.

-Other times, however, this metaphorical itch can only be scratched by the exclusive, spectacular taste of his mate.

-And luckily for you, Azriel is the fucking king of quickies.

-He finds you within minutes, utilizing the convenient bond cemented in his very bones, and conveys his desires with only a look.

-Some days, you decline. Too busy with work, too tired from a night previous, or just plainly not in the mood.

-On these days, Azriel understands. He leaves you respectfully, always with a short kiss and a silent promise of "later" permeating in the air.

-On the days where you do accept, however, is when Azriel truly lights on fire.

-The caveat to quickies with Azriel, however, is that he cannot risk any...leakage onto his clothing. Whether that be cum, spit, or otherwise.

-Frankly, you couldn't either. The both of you took your jobs and professionalism too seriously.

-Which is what makes these quickies so fucking good.

-He kisses you, hard, and lifts you under your ass against his waist to press you against a nearby wall, covering the both of you in shadow. He kisses you until your head spins before unzipping whatever top you have on, and claiming the shit out of your breasts.

-Gods how he loves your breasts.

-He kisses and licks, nibbles and bites, marks and marks and marks you all over your chest and ribcage, whispering words dripping in honey.

-"All mine, these are all mine, aren't they?"

-"Never going to get enough of these - enough of you."

-"I can hear your heart, baby. Need a break?"

-"Fuck you," you respond, your matching smiles and shining eyes giving away your infectious joy.

-He kisses your tits long enough to make your mouth go dry from hanging open so long, before finally making his way up to your throat, whispering "mine" along the column.

-Never leaving a mark.

-He kisses around your pulse, and sometimes you kiss around his as well, before finally recolliding his mouth with your own, and kissing you like a male starved. Mapping you like a cartographer exploding a new land. Rejoicing in the mix of your skin and your mouth on his tongue like a male on his knees in prayer.

-You would think just kisses from him wouldn't count as a quickie, but with how thoroughly and religiously and hungrily he does, you come close to release every time.

-The both of you counted it.

-On days when his cartography becomes too much to bare, or the ego in your chest roars at the thought of him getting you so close to release by just his kisses, your fingers finagle their way to the tent growing in his pants, and palm him through the leather.

-Azriel felt that, as long as your mouth was not on him, he could control himself. The bar of professionalism would be met, and the risk of leakage would be next to none.

-But you have never been one not to test a theory, especially in the name of science.

-You palm him so wretchedly ferociously and savagely that you can practically sketch the exact curve, vein, and girth of his bulge. That's how hard he gets through his pants. You wonder if there is any blood left for his brain.

-You even push him away from you and lick him through the leather, never enough to stain his pants, but enough for him to feel the heat of your tongue cupping his balls and dragging across his dick.

-Still, he never comes, not once; however, that didn't mean he didn't retaliate.

-On days when you'd suck him off this way, he strikes back like a true Illyrian warrior.

-Unforgiving, and calculated.

-He guides you away from him, and does the exact same thing to you.

-Fingers you through your pants, pressing the fabric so taught against your clit you thought you would explode, before pulling his hand away, and replacing it with his mouth. Licking your folds through the fabric, nudging your clit with his nose, devouring and consuming you through the protection of one tiny piece of fabric.

-The mix of heat and fabric is so delicious that, every time, he leaves you near tears.

-He pulls away from you slowly, makes sure you can stand on two feet, and with one last kiss to your cheek, he backs away from you.

-"Later," he whispers, one of his shadows drying the tears staining your hot cheeks. "I want more of you later. I want more of you always."

-You always somehow return to the task you were attempting to accomplish previously, mind puddy, hands shaking, and breasts deliciously sore.

Night

-So yes, Azriel likes to fuck you fast. Leave you wanting more. Drooling for him. Pooling on the floor. Left on shaking knees. Departing from you with only a few words.

-But his favorite, most beloved way to fuck you is to make love to you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you love.

-And that is how he does it at nighttime.

-But, I am getting ahead of myself.

-After long days of meetings, missions, planning, or even just boring paperwork, there is nothing he adores more than a quiet, serene dinner with you. He enjoys cooking the meal himself, usually making something one of you has mentioned having a recent craving for, and absolutely beaming when you finally walk through the door.

-You join him in the kitchen, and immediately wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He holds you close, breathing in the products in your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

-"How was your day?" you ask him.

-He's honest. Somedays he says "good," somedays he says "okay," and somedays he just sighs.

-You don't usually ask him to elaborate on those days unless you get the feeling that he wants to, but no matter what, he always asks you the question back.

-You are always honest with him too.

-After that, he finishes off dinner, and the two of you eat. Some nights it's full of conversations, sometimes superficial, like how the weather has been, but sometimes they're deep. Deep enough that sometimes he wonders if your words are able to reach inside of his brain and stroke it, hitting it exactly where he needs to be challenged, praised, or questioned.

-It was unreal every time, how well you knew him.

-Other nights, however, were coated in comfortable silence. Maybe you were both too tired to talk, or too content, or couldn't think of much to say. He never minded. If there was anything he could appreciate, it was happy, wonderful, comfortable silence. It was a sign that his day had come to an end, he had kept his Court and his people safe, and he had done at least something right.

-And what better way to bask in the safety of silence than with the person who knows you better than anyone, and the person you have more love for than stars in the sky.

-After the two of you have full stomachs, he always leads you to your shared bedroom by his arm, and pushes your chair in for you.

-Your face heats every time. Without fail.

-So does his.

-He leads you to the bedroom and kisses you once, twice, three times, before departing to take care of the dishes. He pictures how you make the mundane, simple task of getting ready for bed so godsdamn beautiful: your face cleaned, your hair refreshed, your breath newly minted, and your shoulders and jaw relaxed. A timeless beauty. A vulnerable sight, only for him.

-He finishes up and heads back to you, hands clean and soul at ease. He finds you already in bed; maybe reading, maybe writing, maybe already closing your eyes.

-He gets ready for bed himself, making sure his teeth and tongue are brushed thoroughly.

-Some nights, that is it. He joins you in bed and you drift off together, holding each other close at the beginning of the night, and closer in the morning. Smiles on your faces. Soft snores escaping you. Bodies breathing in sync.

-But not most nights.

-Most nights, after him joining you in bed, you pull him in, and kiss him so softly he barely feels it.

-But it's there.

-"Touch me, Azriel," you whisper, "and let me touch you."

-And he lets you.

-The kisses start soft, just lips on lips, before your tongue breaks his lips apart, and your bodies begin to warm up. Either he lays you down on your back or you push him down, either way, one of you gets on top of the other, and the two of you begin to do nothing less than venerate each other.

-So much kissing, so much feeling each other up and down; down each other's backs, across each other's faces, through each other's hair, across each other's stomachs, and so much breathing and groaning against each other's skin.

-This is all before a scrap of clothing comes off.

-When it does, however, Azriel undresses you like a nurse would undress a wound. Almost in slow motion, so he can take a peek at how every inch of your body looks that day. Maybe you gained a bruise, a scratch, a freckle, or a stretch mark. Either way, he wanted to make note of every inch of your body, memorizing every way your skin moved or wrinkled, your muscles flexed. He needs the image of you in his mind constantly updated.

-You do the same to him. Collecting every change in his body and adding them to his mental schema.

-When all of your clothes are finally off, and his mate stands before him completely raw, is when he begins to lose control of his mouth.

-"Gods, have you always looked like this?"

-"So warm, so soft."

-"How come every time I see you, I feel like I've spent my entire life blind?"

-His claim of never needing to resort to poetry holds true, but that doesn't mean he isn't damn good at it.

-After minutes and minutes of leaving hickeys, kisses, and indents on each other, so much so that both of your lower stomachs have begun to boil and your lungs are gasping for air, is when Azriel pulls away.

-"Can I?" he asks as he presses his forehead against yours, his hazel eyes glowing and his bulge pressed against your slick. You nod, smiling, and with one last kiss, he slides home.

-And fuck does he go nauseatingly slow.

-Even if you're on top, he ensures you pierce yourself with him with purpose, sliding his dick all the way in, all the way out, and all the way in, over and over and over.

-It was fucking heaven how well he fit in you, how he got you so wet you didn't even need to try, how deep his dick goes inside of you...

-...and how he has no qualms about never shutting the fuck up.

-Especially when you're on top - the view of you sliding him in and out of you, your body fully open to him to admire, and face at his disposal to kiss and whisper into.

-"My mate, oh my mate."

-"Right there, do you feel that? Fuck you take me so well."

-"My gods look at us, look at me in you."

-"You like that? Right there? I fucking love you. My mate. My love. My soul."

-As I said, poetry.

-One thing he never fails to take advantage of is the full-length mirror leaning against your wall, giving the both of you the perfect menu of angles to view yourselves.

-I think you know where this is going.

-"Look at us, baby. Look at us."

-"You're so fucking beautiful."

-"Look at yourself when you take me inside you."

-He goes on and on, drunk on the feeling of you, diminishing him of any sort of filter.

-I cannot imagine any reason you would want to shut up the most private, silent male in all of Prythian while he's sprouting sweet nothings to you, but if you do, there's one surefire way to do it.

-Reaching out your pointer and middle finger, only two fingers are necessary, and tracing thin lines down the veins in his wings.

-Never will you ever see him go so silent so quickly. His cheeks instantly redden and his voice escapes him. His cock begins to twitch inside you, his grip on either you or the sheets becomes so fierce his scarred knuckles turn a milk white, and his mouth falls open.'

-He becomes immediately and totally helpless.

-The two of you begin to fuck harder then, chasing the high the both of you are so close to, fucking into each other faster and faster and faster until finally you are coming on his cock, and he is spraying across your thighs.

-Finding release with a mate is different than any other - it is blinding, hot, and immeasurably pleasurable. It fills every vein in your body with a molten rapture, forcing you to collapse into his body, and his own to collapse onto yours. The bond within both of your chests throbbing in delight like a second heartbeat.

-After a few moments of you practically regaining consciousness, his warm, sweat covered body begins to move against you, making sure your head is comfortable on a pillow and your body is flat. He then presses kisses all across your face, etching a smile onto your face.

-"I still believe," he whispers against your temple, "that I will never get enough. I love you I love you I love you."

-The smell of sex and sweat vanquishes your nostrils as you stand up and head to the bathroom, Az's eyes burning holes through your skin.

-By the time you return, Azriel's arms are open to you, and you tuck yourself in. He holds you impossibly close, his miniscule chest hair rubbing against your cheek. His wings add a second layer of protection.

-Your body begins to fade, but your mind lingers a little longer to process one final statement whispered into your hair.

-"Gods, never allow me to be parted from her."

Taglist: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz @thatonespriteobsessedbitch @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @azsazz

#azriel x oc #huge azz #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf fanfiction #sjm books #crescent city #throne of glass imagines #cassian fanfic

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