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quinnsadilla · 4 months

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fluff alphabet |clarisse la rue

author's note: Hi lovelies, please send me requests! I don't know what gave me the confidence to think I can write, probably delusion. Also, this is according to my personal views of Clarisse so don't be mad if it's different from what you've imagined. Leave a comment, I love interacting with people, xx.

warnings: I tried my best to keep it gender/race/cabin neutral for the most part but there are still some feminine coded things here and there. English is not my first language so excuse any grammar mistakes.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Starting off strong because with Clarisse sparring is a must. Although she doesn't like to think there will ever come a time in which she won't be there to protect you, it's still an essential part of life as a half-blood. And who better to train you than the daughter of war herself? And in case the apprentice becomes the master and you happen to beat her or pin her to the ground or even hold your dagger to her neck? Oh boy, she's done for. Actual heart eyes.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

She pretty much loves everything about you, she can't really just choose one aspect. Though, if she had to, she'd probably say she loves you for being supportive, understanding, and patient with her. You understand her better than anyone. That's what made her know you were the one for her. You can control her anger issues and calm her down when she's on the verge of exploding and she thinks that's beautiful.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc?

The art of intimacy or comfort never came easy to Clarisse. Her relationship with her mother isn't the best and hasn't been for a while now and her father is a grade A asshole. Her first instinct when you're feeling down is to fix it, to ask you who or what happened and give them a physical piece of her mind, but that's not always how it works. She'll pull you to her lap and hold you through the night or for as long as you need, wiping your tears and kissing your cheeks. She'll let you vent your heart out. You can tell her anything. Or nothing, if you prefer. She's not the best with words but her actions speak much louder.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

She's never thought that much ahead if she's being honest. Never allowed herself to daydream too much into the future, choosing to live off the present for now. Sometimes, however, she pictures what could be only described as an utopia; to go on such a fantastical quest that the gods can't help but grant the both of you immortality, that way you'd bask in the glory of your love forever and ever.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

On the outside looking in it would seem Clarisse is the dominant one for sure. And in some ways she is; she likes that you can rely on her, she wants to provide for you, yearns to prove herself capable of such. Still, you're the one in charge. Clarisse is completely devoted to you, and your relationship means more to her than anything she's ever felt before. She cherishes it like no other, always at your beck and call.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Clarisse is intense, that much we know. Her anger runs deep and her passion burns red. She's not perfect, and doesn't try to hide it either. She's hot-tempered, arrogant, she's got a short fuse and she holds grudges. Her fatal flaw is pride, which sometimes gets in the way of her good senses, so you'll most likely be the one apologizing first. Despite all that, she can't bear the thought of you being mad at her and absolutely hates fighting with you. It's like it's tearing her apart, especially if you're sad over something she said or did in the heat of the moment. Truth is, she is a fighter at heart so when all is said and done she'll try and make it up to you in some way, somehow.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

She is so appreciative of everything you do and are. As previously stated, Clarisse didn't get much love growing up so any semblance of that is something she clings hard to. She notices everything, every little thing you do for her and the underlying of your words. How you treat her and others is always stored in the back of her mind and she loves to be loved by you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Clarisse is a very closed off person in general, she doesn't like feeling exposed and being possibly seen as weak. She'll tell you things but there's still some matters you have to pick up on your own and know how to approach them, especially regarding her feelings and personal struggles. She's very honest though, she feels like she owns you that much and appreciates you if you do the same for her. The more your relationship progresses you'll notice being able to read her like an open book because although she does her very best to hide it there's an underlying vulnerability to her behavior in certain moments you'll take proper notice of the more you know her.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Clarisse has definitely become more gentle since you. It still doesn't extend to your friends and family but more so how she behaves around you and knowing she doesn't have to put up that though front all the time. Her sense of self worth has improved as well, especially when you reassure her through her insecurities and doubts (never being the son her father wanted etc.)

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh, boy. Clarisse’s jealousy is very fuelled by… Well, anything really. She doesn't necessarily need a motive to go toe to toe with someone, just staring at you for a second longer than she deems them worthy of and she's ready for a fight. It's hard for anyone to get close enough to flirt with you because she's always there, by your side, kind of like a guard dog. But only because she knows how amazing you are and her insecurities do blurry some lines on what's acceptable. She's working on it though.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Clarisse is definitely a good kisser. She doesn't have much experience, if any, but she's a natural. It sounds cheesy but the first time she kisses you was like butterflies and church bells dancing loudly in the wind. The way she cups your face so uncharacteristically soft and how she breaks off the kiss with a series of small pecks only to smile one of her beautiful smiles so close to each other's faces… Magical. It could be at the fireworks on the fourth of July or it could be in your favorite spot in the woods, soaked in lake water during a midnight swim or after a heated argument. No matter how many times Clarisse kisses you, she'll never not feel electricity similar to her spear’s sharp edge digging into her body and soul.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Clarisse does not have a clue what she's doing. I feel like she'd say something in the heat of the moment; either confessing her true feelings or masking them by saying something hurtful she doesn't actually mean. In the latter scenario she'd storm off and berate herself over it but her pride and fear that you'd never look at her again made her put off her apology for some time and let it all sink in to talk to you when she's ready. That is until you start properly ignoring her and she nearly goes crazy with longing, just missing your overall presence and having her stomach turn to knots at the way things were left between you two. That's one of the few times Clarisse sucks it up and reaches for you. The apology is awkward but overwhelmingly honest and she tells you she's an idiot but you're content in forgiving her and giving her a second (actual first) chance.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Again, Clarisse never thought she'd live to see the day she'd actually have a marriage prospect. Her life just doesn't seem complete without you anymore and the moment she realizes that she's done for. It would probably be while you're laying in bed together, your head on her chest while you play with her fingers. Your eyes are heavy with sleep but hers are wide open, thinking. “Will you marry me?” said while staring into the distance and you probably think she's joking except Clarisse is not one to joke about that sort of thing. “Not now. But eventually.” and whether you ask if she's serious or just accept it right away, she'd look at you seriously for a beat and then tackle you into a bear hug, crushing you underneath her. She doesn't see the point in a big wedding, but if that's what you're into, she won't mind.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

She is not immune to babe or baby but would still like to keep some variety. Things like sunshine, gorgeous, angel or others (I'm looking at you, person who created the “mama/s” HC). She does like your name very much, or probably a shortened version of it. Don't expect her to not tease you if any of these make you flustered.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Clarisse likes to think she's good at hiding it when she's absolutely not. As Taylor Swift once said, you can hear it in the silence. Just the way her eyes soften when she's looking at you speaks millions, but people also get whiplash at how fast her mean attitude changes whenever you're around. Her love giving languages are probably acts of service and physical touch. She loves to do things for you, feeling all big and mighty whenever she can make your life just a little easier. Touching is also a must but we'll get to that in a second.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Clarisse is not very comfortable with public displays of affection, because she is afraid of being judged or mocked by others for being weak or soft. She prefers to keep her relationship with you private and intimate, but doesn't mind the little things. She does gloat about being with you as well as showing you off, so that everyone on camp knows you're hers. She brags about you all the time and I mean, seriously, all the time. She's not a big hand holder but she almost over compensates by grabbing at your hips and thighs, throwing an arm over your shoulder or hiding her face in your neck. She especially loves bonfires when you sit on her lap and she can hold firmly onto your waist while she's talking to her siblings or just press her forehead against yours when her social battery is low.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

She's very perceptive. She may not know what has changed right away but she's also persistent so she'll figure it out in an instant. If it's the way you did your hair or something that happened along your day, even if you change your usual greeting. She notices and she'll definitely ask you about it.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Clarisse wants to be loved, that's all she’s ever wanted, and she has so much love to give, therefore I believe she'll do just about anything to make you happy. That includes being an absolute sap. She honestly doesn't mind how cliche it is, if it works on you, you bet she's using it. If anyone cares to say anything remotely negative about you or your relationship she will promptly glare them into oblivion or give them something to really worry about.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

She is your absolute biggest supporter. Especially if you don't believe in yourself, then she's trying even harder for you to see just how well you can do something if you put your mind to it. With something like sword training she is more than willing to help you, rewarding you with kisses and cursing you for distracting her with your pretty face.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Clarisse doesn't mind change, she rolls with it. If you have a certain way of doing things, a routine you like to follow, that's fine by her. If you're unpredictable, even better. She just loves to see what comes next in terms of your relationship, not necessarily needing anything to amplify her love for you. It's already hardwired into her.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

She knows you like the back of her hand. Even the slightest furrow of your eyebrows or tilt of your head and she'll be there in a second asking what's wrong. She does learn to be more empathetic towards your own struggles, which was hard at first because she wasn't sure how to see things from someone else's point of view. Though road but you make it work.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

She doesn't have much to look forward to so Clarisse values her relationship with you very highly, as you are one of the few people who can see past her tough and aggressive exterior and appreciate her softer and more vulnerable side. She is fiercely loyal and protective of you, and would do anything to keep you safe and happy.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I actually read this one on a Wattpad story a while ago so credit to the original creator but, Clarisse has a teddy bear named Mr. Muscles she's had since she was like, nine and she cherishes it like it's her most prized possession. When she introduced this piece of information to you, you just found her so incredibly adorable you couldn't contain the giggles and she gets so hot in the face she pushes you off her bed and it's honestly one of the most memorable moments in your relationship.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

I headcanon Clarisse as your personal furnace as well as a koala bear so kisses and cuddles are a must, especially if it's cold outside. She loves to take naps with you, it gets to the point where she has trouble sleeping without you (so you give her a vial of your perfume to spray on Mr. Muscles for when you're away).

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Clarisse with you: 🥰

Clarisse without you: 😡

She gets snappier than usual and easily annoyed but she'll also get really sad because she's never had to deal with being away from you. Her siblings try to cheer her up by shoving some kid's head into the toilet but she's so disinterested in anything that does not involve you she just goes about her days training until she can see you again and show off her muscles.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

The answer is yes, one hundred percent. “Touch her and you die” trope goes so hard. Not only that but she would willingly sacrifice the world and herself for you and your relationship. She would go out of her way to make sure you are okay, that you are fed and hydrated and well rested, even messing up her own sleeping schedule in order to take better care of you.

#* ༄ ꒰ effy's works ꒱#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo

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misc-obeyme · 4 months

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If you're doing requests, can I get Solomon headcanons, theme "sightseeing in Devildom/Human World", genre is fluff or author's choice if easier.

Hello there, my friend!

Ahhh yes this is definitely fluff. And honestly I think that's the best genre for this prompt! Because imagine what a silly guy Solomon would be, taking you all over the place just to see you smile.

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Solomon sightseeing in the Devildom/human world

Warnings: none

When you tell Solomon that you want to do some sightseeing, you quickly find out that there are a lot of places an immortal sorcerer can take you. Across worlds, he knows all the best places to see and things to do. If you need him to tell you where he's taking you, he will. But left to his own devices, he'll keep every destination a secret. He loves to see the look of surprise on your face when he teleports you somewhere new.

In the human world, he takes you to famous places. He insists on selfies at the Eiffel Tower and the Great Wall of China. But he also takes you to quiet, out of the way places. He shows you a field where he found a rare flower needed for magical potions. He brings you to the hill with a view of what was once his hometown. Solomon shares these pieces of his long life with you, from a time before he knew who you were.

Solomon takes you to some of his favorite restaurants in the human world, too. You're blown away by the delicious food. You're also unsurprised when one spot kicks you both out the minute the chef catches sight of Solomon. Apparently, he once tried to show them how they could improve one of their dishes and ended up making the oven explode. You let out a long suffering sigh while Solomon just takes your hand and runs, laughing the whole time.

He shows you places in the bright sunlight, but he also takes you to locations better experienced at night. Have you ever seen the aurora, MC? He knows the perfect arctic spot to huddle together and watch the bright colors on display in the sky. You may be freezing, but he keeps you warm with his own body and a little bit of magic. He can't resist adding a little magical flare of his own to the aurora's display.

Although he's spent a lot of his life in the human world, Solomon has spent considerable time in the Devildom as well. He will tell you stories about his journey through the rings of the Underworld, though he will insist that you needn't walk through them yourself. He can teleport you to any place of interest. He's more likely to take you to hidden marketplaces and tiny magic shops. You find a plethora of cursed objects and spell books. You try to talk him out of buying you an item that makes your eyes sparkle when you look at it, but it's useless. Nothing you could say will dissuade him.

Solomon shows you places in the Devildom that you never knew existed, but he also takes you to places you may have heard about already. He sneaks you into the Demon Lord's Castle in an attempt to get past Barbatos long enough to show you the rumored torture dungeon. Once again you find yourself laughing as Solomon is promptly kicked out. You're pretty sure Barbatos pretended not to notice you for a short time because you got farther in that you expected.

Although he is no fan of the ocean, Solomon also takes you to a hidden beach within the Devildom. The water is black beneath the moon and starlight. Solomon holds your hand, keeping you close as you stand upon the shore, his eyes out far across the sea. And then, slowly, small lights appear. They begin to pop up more rapidly until the edge of the water is full of bright blue and purple lights. They glimmer gently as they ripple along the waves. Solomon tells you about a Devildom sea creature that only shows up at certain times. You're so entranced, you're barely listening. But Solomon turns you to look at him in the soft light. The way it plays in his silver hair makes your breath catch.

Solomon will take you anywhere you want to go. Just say the word and he'll make it happen, whether in the Devildom or the human world. He loves to see you full of awe and wonder, the way you look at him with delight brightening your features. As long as he can stay beside you, Solomon will go wherever you might lead him.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omnb #omswd #obey me solomon #om solomon #solomon obey me #obey me solomon x reader #om solomon x reader #solomon obey me x reader #obey me x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon headcanons #misc cozy comforts #misc writes

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extinctspino · 1 year

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can you do a wednesday x gn! vamp reader where wednesday is intrigued by readers fangs and eventually pricks her finger on the readers fang?? you can write whatever else you want after that

(sorry if this is weird)

-<3

Fangs

Pairing: Wednesday x GN!VampireReader

Wordcount: 1K

Warnings: Blood

Author's note: I'm sorry for my lame ass titels, but it's just so hard to come up with a good one haha

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When the fact about you and Wednesday dating became known, people started asking you questions like: "What do you like about her?" "How long have you been dating?" and so on and so on.

Great question actually, what do you like about her?

You adored every single part of her, even her more murderous side. The way her dark eyes traveled over your figure whenever you approached her flustered you.

And her looks sure are pleasing to the eyes. You could stare at her for eternity - quite literally in this situation.

The list goes on and on and on. After thinking about all the things you liked about her, you also wondered what she liked about you.

Wednesday was fond of not only your personality but also of some of your attributes that came with being a vampire.

Whenever you sit together during lunch she watches you like a hawk.

While you're happily talking about how you almost fell down the stairs that day she listened but mainly stared at her favorite thing about your looks.

Your fangs.

Of course, every vampire had fangs but yours stuck out to her. They reminded her of her extensive collection of knives back at her house. She wondered how sharp they were and if you would be able to bite through bone or not.

She was like an eager scientist that wanted to know absolutely everything about a certain subject.

You - being the dense vampire you are - didn't even realize her secret obsession with your fangs.

"I was literally about to slip, but I think god wanted to gift me because I was just able to grab onto the railing!" You were still pumped with adrenaline because of your most recent experience.

"I saw my life flash before my eyes, and I'm immortal! So you get what I'm trying to say, right." You stopped your silly rant and looked at Wednesday who was sitting in front of you.

She was staring at your face the whole time and you just noticed. "Is there something between my teeth?" You showed her your teeth and expected an answer, but it never came.

"Hellooooo?" You waved your hand in front of her face and that seemed to do the trick. "Sadly, you didn't fall down the stairs. I would have paid money to see that."

She got up from her seat and turned to leave, "I'll be in my dorm."

You looked at Thing, "Is it something I said?" Thing only shrugged in response before following after Wednesday.

You knew your girlfriend wasn't mad at you, but she must have something on her mind. You shook your head and decided to visit her in her room after finishing your food.

While eating you repeated everything you said over and over again in your head. Oh, how this girl could make you feel with one single action.

You were taking your leave when Yoko suddenly approached you from behind. "How are you doing these days, Y/n? You haven't been sitting with us these past few days, already replaced us?" Yoko chuckled and playfully shoved you.

You grinned and pushed her back, "Of course not! friends for eternity right?" You gave her a fake suspicious look. You were only able to hold that face for 2 seconds before bursting out in laughter, dragging Yoko with you to the depths of endless laughter.

"Don't worry, I'll sit with yall tomorrow. See ya!" You shouted and entered the building on your way to Wednesday's shared room.

You knew she would be alone in there because you saw Enid being all lovey-dovey with Ajax.

You knocked on the door and let yourself in. "Hey." You greeted her, but she didn't reply since she was rapidly ticking away on her typewriter.

You smiled at the sight and went to go sit on Wednesday's bed. "I'll be done in 30 minutes." You nodded and leaned your back against the headboard.

You watched Wednesday for a bit and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep. Your soft snores didn't make Wednesday falter from her novel, but something else sure did.

You were sleeping with your mouth slightly open and part of your fangs stuck out. Although Wednesday was hesitant she didn't want to waste this opportunity.

This went against everything she stood for - but technically dating you was also against her book so it didn't matter anymore.

She stalked up to you silently and sat on the bed next to where you were laying. She stared at you for a good minute before lifting her index finger and placing it on your lip.

She lifted your lip a bit, revealing your fang. With her index finger from her other hand, she kept bringing it closer until it was hovering right above your pearly white fang.

Who knew Wednesday could make such a stupid mistake? She touched the tip of your fang - in her defense, she didn't expect it to be so sharp.

Small drops of blood dripped from her finger and landed on your face. The smell of blood nearby woke you up. Wednesday didn't even have enough time to hide what had just happened.

You gave Wednesday a puzzled look, but you connected the dots when you saw blood on her finger and tasted blood when you licked your fang.

"I didn't expect it to be so honed." Wednesday deadpanned dryly. You gave her a fake offended look - deep on the inside you were a tiny bit offended.

"Oh yeah? Why don't we test what sorts of things I can bite through." You gave her a smug look, showing off your sharp-edged canines.

You thought it was best to just dismiss this whole situation. I mean, it's Wednesday, what did you expect?

"That's a wonderful proposition." She got up and walked toward the door, "Well? I already have lots of ideas." She trekked through the door.

"What have I gotten myself into?" You sighed as you begrudgingly went after her to god knows where.

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday the series #wednesday addams #wednesday addams netflix #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #wednesday show #wednesday imagine

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grassbreads · 1 year

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What Tai Sui is and Why Everyone Should Read It

So if you follow me, over the past couple weeks, you've probably noticed me obsessively screenshotting and posting about a book called Tai Sui. And now that I've finished it, I'd like to try and convince y'all to give it a chance.

What Is Tai Sui?

Tai Sui is a chinese web novel—a relatively unpopular work by the very popular author Priest (author of Guardian and Sha Po Lang, among others). Unlike a lot of the most popular web novels on tumblr, it's not a danmei. It's in fact rather important to the plot and themes that there is almost entirely no romance, but I promise you, it is absolutely worth it regardless.

What is Tai Sui About?

Tai Sui is a steampunk xianxia cultivation story. For those unfamiliar with xianxia and cultivation, this is a particular genre of Chinese historical fantasy.

The official summary of Tai Sui reads as follows:

“If I had a choice, I would only want to be a little insect in the mundane dust, born in confusion, dying in mediocrity, never seeing the light of day beneath the fog of Jinping City.

Better than taking this wrong road to heaven.”

You may have noticed that this summary is not in fact really a summary. It gives you a glimpse into the story's themes, mood, and destination, but it doesn't exactly tell you what happens in it.

That's because Tai Sui is one of those works that's incredibly hard to summarize. The story is incredibly wide in scope and changes massively over its course, to the point that any summary that encapsulates the whole thing is going to feel like a spoiler. However, I can try my best to add a little detail without giving too much away.

Tai Sui is the story of Xi Ping—an obnoxious, trouble-making rich boy with no interest in cultivation—who gets unwittingly involved in a plot to resurrect the "evil god" Tai Sui. This plot pulls him into the cultivation world against his will and, over time, threatens to rewrite everything he is.

Tai Sui is the end of immortality.

Why Should You Read Tai Sui?

Tai Sui is one of the most compelling stories I have ever read. It is a love letter to the power and promise of the whole world and its many mundane people. It also has some of the best worldbuilding I have ever seen.

Tai Sui is written in omniscient perspective, and though Xi Ping is very much the main character, as the story progresses, we spend more and more time alongside characters that aren't him. By the time the novel ends, his entire continent is at stake, and we the audience know that continent and its troubles inside and out from countless angles. Everyone from the immortal demigods of the cultivation world to the most wretched, miserable paupers is given a grand sense of emphasis.

Tai Sui is a deconstruction of the cultivation genre. It establishes a magic/cultivation system and its history, lets the main character live in that system for a while, and then dives deep into that system's depths. It looks at the cultivation genre, at the idea of people who leave behind their status as mortals for greater things, and asks "How does this really work?" and "Is this how the world should be?"

Tai Sui is the story of countless people who were never supposed to be powerful coming together to make the world a better place. It's well written (and very well translated), exciting, heartbreaking, and incredibly beautiful. It's also funny as hell.

I cannot recommend this story enough.

Warnings/Caveats

As I said before, Tai Sui is a deconstruction of the cultivation genre. If you're unfamiliar with this genre, while the book is certainly readable, you are going to be thrown head first into the deep end with the tropes and terminology at play. It's absolutely worth the learning curve, but it will be kind of a lot. Maybe do some light googling about what a cultivator is before you pick it up. (Or just ask a fan. I think most of us would happily explain anything that would win a new reader).

There are portrayals of people/cultures in Tai Sui that are heavily inspired by minority cultures in real-world China, and some of these portrayals play into pretty harmful stereotypes. It's not SPL "Barbarian" or TGCF Banyue levels of racist, but it's something to be aware of and careful about. I'd really recommend reading from the perspectives of those from the cultures in question (including but not limited to the post I linked) for more about the issues I'm talking about.

Tai Sui's English translation is 930,000 words long. I believe this is a strength, since its length is what allows it such an incredible scope. It is also a fucking daunting commitment, and I acknowledge that.

Finally, while Tai Sui doesn't need too many trigger warnings, it does contain some pretty viscerally upsetting depictions of inequality and mistreatment, as well as a few instances of violence toward children. You can't uplift without first seeing what the people need uplifting from, and hooboy. They need it.

There's also some scenes that are technically rather violent, but the goriness is not presented as gore, if that makes sense. It never feels intensely or overly violent in the way some fantasy novels do.

Links

If all my gushing and propagandizing has convinced you to give it a try, you can find the original Chinese version (where you can buy chapters to support the author) on JJWXC.

The complete English translation is free on the website of E. Danglars, who does a truly incredible job with the translating.

Happy reading :).

#my desperate shot at propagandizing now that my followers have sat through months of on and off obsessive tai sui posting #besties it is genuinely so good #it made me cry. and that is a fcking feat.#tai sui #priest #cnovel #webnovel #long post #I'm not putting a readmore on this bc I want to force y'all to look at it #sorry #book rec #invasion of the frogs

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huramuna · 4 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 4.8k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features.

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek.

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly.

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter.

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.”

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own.

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that?

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away.

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set.

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive.

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?”

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure.

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you.

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him.

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock.

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand.

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly.

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night.

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet.

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle.

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.”

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond.

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’.

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it.

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand.

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies.

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape.

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be.

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought?

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you.

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking.

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn.

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been.

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying.

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly.

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–”

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached.

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off.

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes.

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red.

What had you done?

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epiphyllous · 3 months

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when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [3]

Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs? (Astarion begins to think he does not deserve you.)

Word Count: ~9k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", following Astarion romance route in his POV + my hc/additional scenes, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, mutual pining, Wyll/Karlach, implied Wyll/Reader [Part 2]

[Act II: Moonrise Towers]

Getting into Moonrise was almost too easy. It is a relatively stressless trip if not for the grand introduction of Ketheric Thorm. The man truly is invulnerable, walking up the steps of the tower without care after being killed twice right before their eyes. It is no wonder Moonrise follows his command, convinced of his authority as the Absolute's chosen.

It is equally as easy to convince Moonrise that they are all willing followers of the Absolute. Z'rell is the only person they truly had to demonstrate loyalty to, but Astarion watches you display just enough cruelty to the goblins to prove your place.

“Your lust for the neck pricker is succulent,” she suddenly says, eyes turning to him. Astarion looks to you in question, only to see you glance away in mild embarrassment. “It almost makes me want to take a bite out of him myself.”

“Enough,” you say, clearing your throat. “Surely you know by now we're loyal to the cause?”

She does, or she says as much when she assigns them a mission to help Balthazar get the artifact responsible for Ketheric Thorm's immortality. Astarion doesn't really know the details, not caring much to pay attention when he already understands the gist of it involves killing someone. Besides, he is more interested in what exactly Z'rell saw in your thoughts. If only to tease you about your ‘succulent lust’ for him, he means to bring it up the first chance he gets.

You must realize this, because you take your time exploring Moonrise Towers and keeping them all preoccupied. Gale manages to get blessed for the first time in what seems like forever by his goddess when he rids of the foul Netherese magic circle in Balthazar's chambers. Karlach gets her chance to pet the undead guard dog in Ketheric's private quarters, and you keep him preoccupied with all the chests they have to unlock.

Astarion gets an opportunity to talk after they find Melodia Thorm's room and the letters she gave to her husband, but he finds you solemn in thought at the discovery, so he decides (for once) to leave you be for now.

Then they meet Araj Oblodra, and the thought completely leaves his head.

He barely resists the urge to cover his nose for how foul her blood smells. He manages to smile rather than grimace when they first greet her, though he finds his efforts wasted when she sets her eyes on him to be bitten. Astarion can't imagine something he would want to do less.

When the drow asks if he ‘belongs’ to you, Astarion watches as you frown. "Astarion can answer for himself just fine," you say. "He's his own person."

It is almost adorable how disconcerted you look when the drow continues on, as if you can't quite understand why anyone would think you could own him. Astarion finds it annoyingly familiar though, the way he is viewed as something lesser without needs or preferences. Your easy agreement to his own autonomy is... refreshing. He has known your proclivity for all things good and fair, but to have you display it in full for his sake, Astarion feels touched.

“I will have to decline,” he tells her with a stiff smile.

The blood dealer bristles, not expecting his response, and he begins to feel uneasy despite himself. “Excuse me? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it.”

Astarion nearly bares his fangs in response. “I gave you my answer,” he hisses, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees you shift, stepping closer to him. The unease at refusing the offer dissipates knowing you are there to support him, even when the drow becomes increasingly displeased.

“Can't you talk sense into your obstinate charge?” Araj demands, and you quip her with a short and sharp smile. That’s one he hasn’t seen in a while, Astarion thinks, forced civility wielded like a weapon against those who have found themselves on your bad side. Which you do have, to his past surprise. Astarion just never imagined that he would bear witness to someone landing themselves in it just because of the way they speak to him.

Astarion would be lying if he said he was not pleased.

"I don't really see why he needs to say yes,” you drawl. “I'm surprised he said no, to be honest."

Ugh, you are honest even in the worst of times.

"Sorry, one moment..." Amusement and exasperation battles in equal strength as he pulls you away just enough to speak to you privately. "Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some potion?" He asks, though when he sees genuine confusion flit back into your expression, he confirms your question is out of curiosity not persuasion. You seem almost panicked at the thought of his suggestion being true.

"What? No," you reply back to him, alarmed. "I would never!” You desperately scramble to explain yourself. “I just thought you'd jump at the opportunity to bite people. I was, you know, just a little surprised.”

Funnily enough, you may have a point. A point that need not happen in front of an annoyed drow, but a point nonetheless. He could never truly fault you for being right, however inconvenient it is sometimes. (In the past, he would never have imagined he would feel this way about you.) "Well, yes, you aren't wrong,” he says, “but something smells off about her blood. I don't need to taste it to know it's going to be awful."

He shudders for good measure, and he sees your lips quirk up at his dramatics. He thinks briefly about how he has only known the taste of your blood, besides the time he was compelled to take a bite out of Gale because of a cursed frog. The drow's blood smells worse than his netherese poisoned blood, and in comparison, yours is almost sweet. Astarion finds himself elaborating without prompting. "Nothing that will kill me, but I'd rather not go through it if I don't have to."

You nod. "Okay,” you say easily, “if you don't want to, you don't have to.”

"Alright," Astarion replies automatically before his surprise can stop him. Just like that, he thinks, and he can make choices for himself just by how it makes him feel. It's rather novel. The realization is quite overwhelming, despite how simple you make it seem. He pauses, shooting you a quick smile-- or what he hopes is a smile. "Uh, thank you."

You only wave your hand at him and turn back to the drow with an unapologetic smile. He faces the drow with you and turns her down again, much to her immense displeasure.

You manage to lift Araj's moods somewhat when you offer up your blood for experimentation. Astarion isn't happy about the exchange, for who knows what the drow will do with your blood, but you seem genuinely curious enough about the whole concept. You get a flask made from your blood in return, which you give to him almost immediately.

“A gift,” you tell him. “Let me know what it does if you drink it.” A flicker of guilt comes and goes when he accepts it, and for a brief and endearing moment he thinks this may be a gesture made because of the misunderstanding earlier. He feels pleasantly surprised by how quickly you come to his defense and try to make amends when you think you have done him a disservice– as though his feelings mattered.

You tilt your head curiously. “Can you still smell my blood in the potion?”

Astarion opens up the flask and takes a look. In the bouquet of herbal scents, yes, he can identify your blood mixed in it. He rather thinks he is quite familiar with it, and it is a taste he can never get tired of.

He wants to thank you but finds that he has bigger things to be grateful for. He has never been shy of showing thanks, but what you've just done for him in front of Araj is too important to him for it to be said in passing.

At every chance you get, you make him feel... seen. Safe. He is his own person, vampirism be damned– a living being with his own thoughts and feelings, and you make it known to him and to everyone even if he himself cannot see it. Your goodness remains in the face of temptation, and you are unwavering in your beliefs when you believe it to be right. How does one even begin to thank you for not betraying his faith in you like that?

(What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if you had demanded him to bite the drow, regardless of how he felt? If you had placed more value in the potion's abilities than in his own free will? He suspects his relationship with you would be unsalvageable. For some things may be forgiven–and he feels as though he would forgive many things for you–but he cannot afford to lose himself again, even to you.)

Astarion doesn't get a chance with you alone for a while, the party having moved on to trying to break the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. The tieflings– Rolan will absolutely hate the fact they will have saved Lia and Cal for him--and dark gnomes alike all wait in the prisons for the right time to hatch their plan. They are lucky to have them show up when they do and guide them out without a single trace. Astarion is almost disappointed that there wasn’t a fight to be had.

He waits until the freed gnomes and tieflings steer their way to Last Light Inn in the distance before he speaks with you. Water laps at the makeshift port the prisoners sailed from, and as Gale goes into the logistics of his mage hand magic to Karlach, he approaches you.

You look into the distance, beyond the point of where the Moonrise Tower's light can reach. When you turn to him, as if feeling his gaze, he feels a moment of déja vu.

"I wanted to thank you,” he tells you.

You look confused, glancing out into the dark before coming back to him, and he realizes perhaps you think he's somehow grateful for releasing the prisoners. Not a strange notion, but certainly what would be a first for him, considering who they saved. "For what?"

"For what you said whilst we were in front of that vile drow,” Astarion continues, finding himself more impassioned than he previously thought. “You could have asked me to throw myself at the drow, my feelings be damned.” He pauses for a moment to gather himself. “But you didn't, and I'm grateful."

Your response comes easily to you as it did before. "Of course.” You tell him, “I wouldn't want you to do something you don't want to.”

Your words are gentle, but they leave him feeling exposed. It's as though his chest has been opened and now you bear witness to what he has kept hidden for so long. He is by no means fragile, but it does not mean he is unaffected by how vulnerable he feels in the face of your unconditional acceptance.

"I admit it's a novel concept. A little intimidating.” Astarion stops again, musing over his words and willing for his voice to stop shaking. You wait patiently for him until he confesses, “For two hundred years, I used my body to lure pretty things back to my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing-- it never mattered. It would have been easy enough, honestly, to just bite her. Face a little disgust and move on from it like I did before."

“Astarion,” you begin softly, and he feels his neck prickle with an emotion unfamiliar to him: embarrassment. You pause then, finding the words you want to say. “I want you to keep telling me how you feel about things. I need to know what you're okay with and what you're not because,” and it is your turn to look abashed, “I don't always know what you want. I'm not the most observant person, and I would hate it if I accidentally made you do something you didn't want to do.” You breathe. “So, thank you, for telling me.”

“It's rather odd to hear you thank me,” he admits, and he unfurls fists he hadn't realized he was holding. He leaves it unsaid, how difficult it has been to be truthful to himself and to you. He isn't sure if he can remain so in the worst of times, but he knows this at least: he will continue to try.

He thinks it is the first time he has been given the chance to.

You make a face he would have laughed at if he were not so relieved. “I've said thank you to you before.”

“That is not what I mean, dear,” he replies dryly, and when he hears footsteps approach, he knows this conversation has reached its end. (An expert, Astarion carefully sews himself closed, though he leaves a stitch untethered so perhaps next time it will not be so hard to undo. The thought of being seen becomes less frightening when he knows it will be you.)

“Gale and I might've found something you might want to check out,” Karlach says, pointing behind her. “Looks rather nasty and sort of important.”

“Man, can we ever separate the importance from how disgusting it ends up being?” You bemoan, walking up to Karlach and easily accepting the arm she puts around your shoulder. “How gross?”

“Quite nasty, even to our standards,” Gale replies, grimacing. “I think that's saying quite a lot, considering our adventures so far.”

Astarion hears you mutter a small ‘ew’ under your breath and he huffs in laughter. “Well, as long as it involves blood and violence, I'm sure it won't be too terrible of an encounter,” he says.

Entering the adjacent bowels of an illithid colony threatens that viewpoint, but the rest of them are too preoccupied with their own thoughts to call Astarion out for it. All in good time, he thinks as he brushes off the organic bits off his clothes without drawing attention to himself.

Shadowheart is beside herself when they enter the Gauntlet of Shar. As one of the only and largest places of worship of the dark goddess, it is impressive in its grandiosity and in how unwelcoming it makes itself to be with its dark corners and tall pillars. If Shadowheart finds rapture in the temple, Halsin and you find it unsettling with how cold it is, though you keep your opinions to yourself.

For Astarion, he finds the temple rather homey; it is quiet and lonely, but it is still leagues better than the dreaded halls of Cazador's castle. When he tells the party just as much, he receives matching looks of incredulity.

“Do you… happen to like tall ceilings, Astarion?” You ask, comically sincere about it.

“Perhaps he sees the beauty in the silence,” Halsin offers. “It could be seen as…” He pauses. “Peaceful.”

Astarion sees Shadowheart turn her head a tad too late to hide her laughter.

Peaceful is giving the Gauntlet too much credit. The silence of the temple is unsettling at best, abandoned by those who used to worship it. Abandoned, it makes for a lovely home for a devil– more specifically the orthon they are tasked to kill in order to fulfill Raphael's deal.

Astarion could care less why Yurgur is here, but if the absence of living Dark Justiciars is of any indication, the orthon must have overstayed its welcome after the war. His ability to turn invisible is a tad irritating but he and his army are no match for them and their combined wit. You have quite the arm to throw his bombs back to him, and in the aftermath, there is nothing but dust.

As though he were watching, Raphael appears to them soon after to uphold his end of the bargain. He seems a midge too satisfied to be revealing the truth about the devilish contract etched onto Astarion's back, but perhaps he is simply happy to have gotten rid of his enemy vicariously. Astarion pays no mind to the devil when he leaves, mind whirling with the implications of the truth.

In short, it is overwhelming. (The feeling is quickly becoming familiar.) Two hundred years of questions finally answered. The reason for his pain all those nights ago, the horrors he has had to face all these years finally having meaning. It is a dreadful conclusion to result in, with more problems introduced than closure given.

Astarion lets out a thoughtful hum, and the concern on your face would be funny if his thoughts weren't so preoccupied. "You okay?"

"It's a lot to take in." Astarion pauses, looking over to you as you wait patiently, though there is still a veneer of concern behind your eyes. He finds that in your patience, he realizes he is afraid–of what is to come, and what this revelation means for him. Another realization is the fact that he trusts you in full. It should scare him, the way he feels like he can turn to you for help, but it does not--not as much as it used to. "What do you think I should do?"

"Well," you begin placidly, "anything to do with devils and demons never ends well. And," you glance at him, "the sacrifice of all vampire spawn doesn't sound too good to me."

"There's only the seven of us," he says, though he knows one is already too many for you to leave dead. The thought both irritates and comforts him in equal measure, especially when you give him a practiced look of exasperation. "Though that does include me. Just when I was about to start enjoying life again."

"And about Cazador." You continue plainly, "I don't think you'll be free until he's dead."

His heart leaps, and then something settles. How quick you are to get to the heart of the problem, not that he will ever admit it to you. "I hate," he says, "how right you are. If I thought he'd stop at nothing to find me when I was just his plaything, he'd go to the ends of Faerûn to bring me back knowing this contract." He swallows inaudibly, preparing his next words. "We need to take the fight to him, but I can't do it alone."

"You won't be," you say so easily. It pulls at heartstrings he wasn't aware existed. "You'll have me."

"Yes, well." He clears his throat. "Let's not overestimate ourselves; the two of us will certainly not be enough to go against a true vampire lord. Though..." Astarion trails off, trying but failing to stave off from the warmth that courses through him. "For what it's worth, thank you."

Your smile is beatific, and Astarion begins to think perhaps he doesn't deserve you.

As the umbral gems are collected, it begins to feel like the beginning of the end for the shadows that lurk. Everyone can feel it; it is the way hard conversations are beginning to be had, all loose ends tying up before the coming of a new chapter. Astarion sees you speak to Gale about his so-called destined fate to die against the Absolute, to Arabella about her future beyond her parents’ death, and to Karlach about hard decisions and an ending that seems all too close to come. You are busy with all matters of import that Astarion has not had a moment's time with you for the past few days.

He loathes to admit it but he finds himself missing your company. A ridiculous notion, he is sure. It's not as if he has not seen you around camp or not exchanged words with you at all. If anything, you still proactively seek out opportunities to see him when you are free, but all attempts to find the time to spend with him end up taken by someone else.

Astarion remembers once upon a time when he had barely cared to recognize the effort you put into spending time with him. Now, when he is bereft of your presence, he cannot stand the fact that everyone seems determined to thwart your every attempt.

He says as much to Karlach– though he may have complained more about your busy-body schedule than admit the fact he finds himself in want of you. Much to his dismay, Karlach is similar to you in the worst of ways, seeing through him easier than most. Though it may be due to her straightforward manner more than anything.

“Aw, Astarion, if you miss them that much, you can try to see if you can talk to them when they’re free too. Ooh!” She exclaims in excitement, “Do you want me to distract everyone for a little while? So the two of you lovebirds can have a moment together?”

Astarion is quick to turn her down. It embarrasses him to a degree that he misses you. He doesn’t think he is quite ready to admit it to himself, let alone to other people. It feels… final, like a turning point that Astarion isn’t sure he can take– should take. Surely, he thinks, you find other people’s company more enjoyable? “No, that won’t be necessary, darling,” he says airily. “It is hardly that important to warrant that much effort from either of us.”

He thinks Karlach’s look is much too sympathetic for his liking, so he excuses himself to read the Book of Thay again. At least then he won’t have to listen to his own thoughts.

That being said… Astarion's gaze follows you when you flit back and forth in camp. The book lay in his hands, opened but nearly forgotten, and he starts to take Karlach's words into consideration. Surely, initiating conversation with you should not be that hard? He has propositioned you twice already with no qualms and yet he doesn't know what to say to get your attention when it is not of sexual nature. He has never cared to, never been able to if he wanted to– and now when he has the chance, he stands rooted to his spot, unable to do a thing when Wyll asks you to dance with him as though it is second nature.

And of course you would accept– why wouldn't you?

He may have grown out of prince charmings and fairytale endings, but you? There could not possibly be a better match for you than Wyll, who is the epitome of everything you could ever dream of. Handsome, righteous, selfless– Wyll is the hero of every storybook, and Astarion would not be surprised if the heavens decided to make you for each other. Wyll twirls you in his arms, leading you with a gentle hand that is befitting of your nature. And you laugh, light and joyous, the two of you looking at each other with bright eyes.

Astarion would never doubt the fun that the two of you have together. But he knows you would want more than that. You dream of true love and world peace, dressing up in all white and walking down the aisle to swear yourself to another person for life. You bleed love with your every touch, and he has never tasted love until you.

He doesn’t know if he will ever be capable of loving you the way you deserve. (After all, what has he ever given you but lies and deceit?)

Astarion watches as you take a deep bow, laughing all the while as Wyll claps at your performance, and something inside him churns with an unfamiliar bitterness. Jealousy? Envy, perhaps. (Of who– maybe Wyll, maybe you, maybe both.)

But then you bid Wyll farewell and turn to him, and your face lights up as bright as moonglow. Astarion hates the way his heart trembles at the sight of you.

“Hey, you,” you say to him warmly, and a part of him wants to be spiteful– for invoking uncomfortable emotions he does not know how to deal with. The other half is simply glad that he has you at last.

Bad habits are hard to break though. “I see Wyll has made you his latest dance partner,” he says, unable to remove his scathing tone. You are more surprised than upset at his sudden animosity, which is a boon in itself. You look at him curiously though, with eyes that see into him too well for his sake, before you reply.

“For practice.” You say carefully, “For somebody else.” Before Astarion can inquire on who, you change the subject. “Do you know how to dance?”

“I know enough.” He clears his throat, continuing, “Dancing is an easy way to proverbially and literally whisk someone off their feet after all.”

Your eyes brighten at his words, and Astarion begins to think your earlier joy was not because you were dancing with Wyll but because you love to dance in general. “You want to teach me how to dance?” Your smile reaches your eyes, as it always does for him. “I bet you know how to ballroom dance. That sounds dreamy enough for you.”

“Without music? Hardly a dance,” he tells you, but when he sees you deflate, he is quick to say more. “When there is a proper setting, you can be the first to witness my skills personally.” He finds it inconvenient that his mood shifts with yours, because when your countenance lifts with hopeful anticipation from his words, he finds himself pleased to have caused it. “For now, I think my words will suffice in charming you just fine, don't you think, darling?”

“Confident you still have more lines to give me?” You ask teasingly, and Astarion is nothing if not a proud performer.

“Every time I heard the tieflings cry, I remember how you sounded crying for me,” he recites sultrily. “And now all these accolades from the Harpers are nothing compared to the sound of my name uttered from your lips.”

There is that familiar look of embarrassment and delight again. You laugh in response, leaning your head into his shoulders bashfully. “You're too much,” you tell him, your arm pressed against his. He relaxes at the warmth from your touch.

Guilt, envy, jealousy: he yearns for you despite everything he cannot be. In the end, he is but a selfish man at his core, and whatever he wants he will take. Until the moment you choose someone else to love and to hold, he will simply count down the hours till the sound of midnight chimes. But he will not let you go until then– and not a moment later. (Though perhaps if there is a person he can learn to love, it is you.)

Astarion goes on, line after line, if only to keep you here with him. “If you don't remember how much you enjoyed it last time, I would like to try again.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and watches as your eyes darken in response, “Until you can think of nothing else.”

“I hope,” Shadowheart interrupts with mirth, “you know he practices these lines when you're not here.”

Astarion sputters, and he narrows his eyes in mild annoyance when he sees Shadowheart pass by with a knowing smile. “Excuse me-”

“If you wanted your practice to be a secret, you might want to be quieter next time.” Shadowheart pauses. “Or perhaps not set your tent next to mine?”

“I don't know, Shadowheart,” he croons, “perhaps you might benefit from learning a thing or two from my charms.”

“Rather doubtful–”

Astarion hears you laugh long and hard as the two of them bicker. It is difficult to come up with retorts when he cannot help but be besotted at the sound of your joy. He hopes it is not obvious to everyone else.

His worries seem all the more unimportant when they complete Shar's Trial. It turns out that the Nightsong is not a relic but an aasimar--Selûne's own daughter. Astarion already knows a fight lies in wait the moment Balthazar stops talking. After Balthazar swiftly joins the land of the dead, it is Shadowheart's faith that is put to trial. When she refuses to kill the aasimar, Astarion isn't sure he should be impressed she would deny her goddess or by how spectacularly her goddess lost her trust in the course of the journey.

It's one of the reasons why he has never subscribed to the words of any god. What have the gods done for those who believed in them? Queen Vlaakith, who now swears to destroy Lae'zel despite her intrepid loyalty. Selûne, who could not save Ketheric's wife and daughter or her own child from a hundred years of captivity. Shar, who took advantage of the grief in Ketheric and innocence in Shadowheart for her own means. Mystra, who plucked Gale from a young age and cultivated him into a man who never felt like he was enough.

There is simply no use relying on them for anything. For what can they offer to him now when none has answered him once in the past two hundred years?

Astarion thinks you feel similarly. You could have easily been a cleric, a healer of the people blessed by the gods. But instead, you walk the path of the paladin, an oath created not in servitude to a higher being but to the weak and vulnerable. (Even then Astarion thinks that is too restricting for him, bound to do good by others no matter the situation. Believe him, he's already been on his best behavior by not pointing the sharp end of his dagger at anyone who tries to trifle with them.)

He once believed that your heart could know no evil, so being a paladin was easy. But he has grown to know you like the curve of his bow, and you are no saint. You become angry at others, yell and curse, and gods, you had the attitude to match him from the very beginning so he should have known even then.

But perhaps it is because you are like anyone else that your ability to keep your oath shines far brighter than any devotion to a god. It is a part of you that no one can take away, and it is a concept that both amazes and discomfits Astarion in equal measure.

Even now at the top of Moonrise Towers, you still hold mercy in your heart for a man like Ketheric. Of course you would sympathize with a heart like his, twisted and mangled beyond repair because of love and grief. Astarion wonders how long Ketheric Thorm has gone without anyone trying to understand him? A hundred years at least, since the death of his wife and child, and here comes a wayward paladin and their party of four, giving him a chance for redemption.

Astarion watches as Ketheric Thorm, the human he was, falls without a fight, and in his place, rises the undead chosen of Myrkul.

They've gone from fighting goblins to living machinery to literal shadows. To think those pales in comparison to the avatar of necromancy before them, all bones and scent of death. It would be so easy to be afraid, but then Astarion looks at you, lips moving in a silent prayer for courage, and he finds it less daunting to know that you can continue to move on despite your fear.

You are quick to dispatch the party: a group to free Dame Aylin from her shackles and another to start the fight against Myrkul. As Astarion sees Wyll, Shadowheart, and Jahiera teleport themselves closer to the aasimar, he knows quickly what team he's on. (“We work well together, you know,” he told you once after knocking down the goblin camp. He finds it somewhat comforting to know that statement is still true today.)

“Ready?” You ask him, a scroll of dimensional door in your hands.

“Darling,” he drawls, long bow in hand, “I thought you'd never ask.”

It ends up being a hard battle: cold, grasping hands of death from the unliving attack from all sides, the avatar of Myrkul summoning horrors beyond comprehension when they get close enough. And still, Astarion's hands remain steady as they aim deadly arrows toward a deity until it falls just like anybody else.

“It's over,” he hears you breathe out, eyes wide as Ketheric falls to his knees for the very last time. It is a horrible sight to see a man in his last minutes, soul broken by grief and the gods that took advantage of that, and body broken by the aasimar he deceived in turn. Still, when your hand finds his in the aftermath of such horrors, he understands two things: he has never cared for someone like you before in his life, and all things must come to an end.

It is only a matter of when.

(And a third thing– Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs?)

They stay behind to help the Harpers rebuild the Last Light Inn. It's enough time to see where allegiances lie, who is to join them for the final act in Baldur's Gate, and to see the glimpse of the shadow-land curse ebbing away. Astarion doesn't know who, but someone suggests a celebration of victory as an ode to those who had fallen, and suddenly life is breathed into the land and its people.

He's always loved a good party and he figures everybody feels the same. He can only hope the wine that's provided is even a smidgen better than the one in the druid grove. And he deserves a break– all of them do. Astarion watches as the Alfira and Lakrissa drag you away to some pre-celebratory hangout during the event's setup and cannot find it in himself to be anything but amused.

As it turns out, in between the cobwebbed walls and doom-and-gloom, Moonrise Towers has plenty to offer for the celebration. The leftover rations– whatever is still good after the battle anyways– serve as the basis of a banquet. The old and dusty black and white robes and attires of the Selûnites that once occupied this place are still in good condition, if you discount the mothballs and eaten up bits.

It makes for a nice change in pace for many at least, though Astarion thinks he'd rather wear something with embroidery than don a goddess’ servants outfit no matter how nice it is. It is a good thing Shadowheart is not quite Sharran or else there would be quite an upset. She is more preoccupied by her conversation with Dame Aylin than with the festivity preparations, but he knows she will join in due time if you have anything to say about it.

In the quiet bustle before the banquet, people flit back and forth, busy. Whether they are preparing the necessary things for the celebration, healing the wounded, making the burial grounds, or getting drunk ahead of the game, there is something to do. Astarion finds himself in the last category nursing a cup of wine and watching the processions, His Majesty curled up at his feet.

The last person he expects to make time to speak with him is Wyll.

“Care for some company?” Wyll asks with a smile.

Astarion shrugs, hiding his surprise behind his nonchalance. “I suppose the wine can be shared.”

Wyll nods. “Much thanks,” he says, allowing Astarion to pour him half a glass before taking a cursory sip. Astarion follows after him, though he watches Wyll carefully in the corner of his eyes.

“I've hunted demons,” Wyll begins, “orthons, devils, and monsters. When I met our leader, I never expected to eventually fight against a God. Did you?”

Astarion lets out an airy laugh. “Knowing who we're following, I can't say I'm too surprised.” He waves his hand flippantly before crossing his arms. “Goes to show even Gods can fall… and that paladins seek nothing but trouble.”

Wyll laughs at that, and Astarion tries to not make it seem like he's almost dropped the glass. “Makes you hopeful, doesn't it?” Wyll tells him, “That there's nothing that cannot be done at their side?”

And there it is, Astarion thinks wryly. Their single point of similarity lies in their affections for you. He was wondering why the righteous Blade of Frontiers was making conversation. But still, with the jealousy that swirls low in the pit of his stomach, he thinks of you and the miracles you have created from seemingly nothing and warmth spreads and overtakes any and all bitterness.

“Astarion,” Wyll starts, faltering for the first time. Astarion barely has enough time to turn to him when he continues to greater incredulity. “I was wrong about you. Truly wrong about you.”

What? Astarion stares at him for a moment before he realizes he's taking a moment too long. Being snarky comes like second nature. “Let me guess,” he drawls, “you thought I'd sucked blood, but instead I just suck. Was that your witty jab?”

“No! I mean it,” Wyll says. He is sincere as he always is, and Astarion wants to sneer at it, if only he wasn't reminded of you. (He's grown used to people saying what they mean, and part of him is scared of it.) “There's little between us we share, but you've fallen in love and stood by your lover. This is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate.”

Wyll means you, he realizes. You and him: lovers. It seems to become less of a lie with each coming day if Karlach and now Wyll seem to see right through him. “I– thank you,” Astarion replies, bewildered, “I suppose.”

“Pay it no mind,” Wyll tells him, clinking his glass to his. “After all the fighting we've done, it puts a lot of things in perspective. I don't want to leave things unsaid nor undone.”

Astarion snorts into his glass; hardly a charming gesture but he finds it easier to be less than such these days. “See, that's where you and I can agree on!” He says slyly, “Is that where all your night time dancing practices have been for? To woo your love at the first chance you get?”

Wyll coughs into his hand, and Astarion watches in glee as he grows embarrassed. “I hope you haven't seen me in the earlier nights; I was quite horrendous.” He sighs. “I can only pray that no one else has noticed besides you and our leader… I was hoping to keep it a secret until later.”

“Knowing our camp, it was never a secret to begin with,” Astarion says dryly.

“I just…” Wyll continues almost wistfully, “I want to give her something to look forward to. She deserves the world after everything she's been through– let alone a dance to truly and well whisk her away.”

Astarion can see the lovestruck gleam in Wyll's eyes as he talks, and he recognizes that look not when he looks at you but instead… “Karlach?” He asks, watching as the mighty Blade of Frontiers fidgets in place, “So you've been practicing your dances for Karlach?” His smile widens not unlike a cat who has captured a canary, both from the fact he has nothing to fear from Wyll and from the way he now has the ammunition to tease the man. So this is what it means to kill two kobolds with one stone. “I hope you haven't been practicing other things without her too.”

“Astarion, please.”

It's moments like these when Wyll is trying to sink into the floor from mortification that he is reminded how young the warlock is. He never imagined talking about love with him of all things, but here they are– it surely isn't the strangest situation he's been through. “I'm sure Karlach would be happy to have you ask her to dance, skills be damned.”

“I'm sure,” Wyll says warmly, “but I want to give her only the best, if I can.”

And if that wasn't another sentiment Astarion has grown familiar with.

Before guilt can sink his mood, Astarion clears his throat. “You wouldn't happen to have a few dancing lessons in store for your fellow companion, would you, darling?”

Wyll is kind enough to not say anything to his question, though the knowing looks he gives Astarion throughout his guidance is reminiscent of Karlach that he escapes as soon as he is able. With the party soon underway, more people come into the main floor with fresh attire. Alcohol is poured and music is played with Alfira leading the fray. Lakrissa, never far from her lady bard, meets his gaze and nods her head upward.

“Upstairs,” Lakrissa tells him with a wide smile. “They're doing some finishing touches. I'm sure they won't mind if you get them.”

There is that damned knowing look again, he thinks, walking up the stairs. He pauses for a moment halfway up, gazing at the party quickly underway and at the people he has met thus far. He spots Dammon and Karlach talking near the door, Wyll across the room building his courage to ask her to dance. Shadowheart and Lae'zel sit at the bar drinking in surprising camaraderie next to Rolan and his siblings, still ribbing him in usual manner. Harpers are scattered in the room, Jaheira to the side watching on after having said her goodbyes prior; she will be joining their party to Baldur's Gate, after all.

Halsin was preoccupied with Thaniel so he may or may not be joining them later on, though Astarion doubts he would disappoint you by not showing up. Not seeing Gale in the midst if the celebration is strange, considering how much more eager he is to converse with others. Astarion's pondering answers itself when he sees Gale exit your room.

“Ah, there you are,” Gale greets him cheerily. “They're about done with their preparations– they thought they'd ask me for my opinions on their appearance. And despite my admitted inexperience in the matter, I hope I did my due diligence in reassuring them they looked fine. The rest is up to you, I'm afraid.” He puts a hand on Astarion's shoulder and squeezes lightly, and the look in his eyes grows somber for just a moment. “Treat them well.”

If he had a heart still, it would pang with guilt. “Don't I always?” Astarion says airily, and Gale gives him another pat and a wide smile.

“That you do, my friend,” Gale says warmly. “I am ever glad to see my two good companions happy together. Best wishes to you both.”

Gale leaves him and Astarion stands outside your door, unsure what he is waiting for. He peeks inside, watching as you tinker with your jewelry in the mirror. In the reflection he sees you in all your glory. You are beautiful as ever in your evening attire, simultaneously dashing in your knightly way as you are beautiful and warm and real. You notice him in the mirror and turn to smile at him, and guilt settles into him like lead.

You deserve more, he thinks with finality, and Astarion knows then he can no longer delay the inevitable, despite himself. You must know the truth about his intentions for you, even if it pushes you away from him and renders your protection for him. You deserve nothing less but his honesty. He only wishes he were not so cowardly as to have done it sooner, if only to not ruin the rest of your night.

(But the truth is, Astarion has a little hope that you will still love him despite it all– because he thinks he wants something real with you too.)

“There you are,” you say warmly, walking up to him. “Are you ready to dance?” You take his hand in yours, and he holds onto you for dear life.

"I was waiting for you,” he tells you weakly. He squeezes your hand as if asking for strength. “Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."

Lovely as you are, you are nothing but concerned for him. "Yeah, sure! Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine,” he tells you automatically. Deflection comes easily for him. “I just-- feel awful."

Your sympathy is almost too much to bear that Astarion musters up the will to push forward before your compassion weakens his resolve. He must confess now or he never will. He swallows painfully.

"Look, I had a plan,” he begins to explain, “a nice simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me." He lets out a shaky laugh– entirely inappropriate and unreflective of his feelings, but what else is he to do? Does he even deserve to show you how much turmoil he has gone through to reach this point in telling you?

"It was easy,” he continues, trying to ignore the way his chest twists painfully when he sees you flinch, hurt. “Instinctive.” He lets your hand fall from his as he gesticulates, weaving his story dramatically in the only way he knows how lest he feel too much. Your arms draw themselves in as if to brace yourself for a blow, and all Astarion can think is that he must– he must continue on for better or worse. He cannot bear doing this a second time.

“Habits from 200 years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it,” he tells you. Astarion feels his voice shake. “And all I had to do was not fall for you. That was where my nice, simple plan fell apart."

He sees a flicker of something in your eyes as he finishes. He can't quite place what it is– he can hardly begin to process how he's feeling at the moment. But the truth is finally out in the open, and the tension in his body is pulled taut like a bow string as he waits for your response. He wants so desperately to make excuses, to go on about anything that would salvage his relationship with you, but he won't. You have been patient with him time and time again, and it is only fair for him to do the same.

No one ever told him how hard it would be though. To wait. You stand only a foot away from him and yet the distance between the two of you feels vast.

"...So,” you begin quietly, “did the nights we spend together... did they mean anything then?"

You're ridiculous, he thinks, almost laughing in fond incredulity. He half expected you to storm out of the room, demanding he never speak to you again. The fact you are still talking it through with him is more than he could ever ask for. "Of course it did,” Astarion tells you fervently. “That's the problem. Or part of it. You–” His voice catches with emotion. “You're incredible. You deserve something real.”

He watches as you blink in rapid succession, willing the tears that come easily to you away. Astarion thinks about the way you yearn for simple touches, sweet romances, and true love. And even if he does not yet know how to love you the way you want, he knows this: “I want us to be something real."

Astarion reaches his hands out to meet yours before he realizes it is happening. The utter relief he feels when you close the distance (so small yet so far) between the two of you is insurmountable. He thinks you can feel the way his hands shake when you hold onto them. Or is that you? He thinks, savoring the warmth seeping into his skin. No matter– nothing else matters but the way you are still here with him now.

"So do I,” you say wetly. “More than anything."

Astarion knows better than to look into a gift horse's mouth, but it is in his nature to question when good things happen to him. His question comes out quietly, disbelieving, "Really?"

And he can see your expression soften-- not of pity or sympathy-- just affection as you huff good naturedly, as though he were just absolutely silly for doubting you. "Yes, of course," you say, cupping his face just as gently before you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.

You are warm in his arms with the sweet scent of lilac.

When was the last time he has been held like this, he wonders. Without precontext for sex or expectations for something more. Like when he was helpless but to see you preoccupied with others, it is in times like these Astarion realizes he is inexperienced when it comes to affection in its purest form. It makes him… lost in a way, to know what he does not know.

[Can he tell, you wonder, that you've been wanting to hold him like this from the very beginning? To make him feel safe. To let him know he has nothing to worry about, at least when it comes to you. You hold him tightly, and if love could be poured out from you to another, you would have it spill over and more.]

But you don't seem to care. You never have. Giving little bits of affection to him wherever he can accept it without expecting anything given back. He wants to learn how to be with you starting now.

Moving his arms around you to embrace you is unfamiliar, but his hands find purchase on your back, palms flat and firm. Your heart against his chest beats steadily, and Astarion finds that he doesn't want this moment to end. He feels vulnerable in a way he has not felt in a long time, if ever. Everything seems easier to say to you, now that you accept him, flawed as he is.

"I just,” he begins quietly, “don't know what real looks like, not after two hundred years of playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you pull away, but only for a moment before you are holding his hands gently. He continues, “Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels tainted.” He feels his mouth twist at the word, and he looks down, shame burning his tongue despite himself. “Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.”

“I don't know how else to be with someone,” he confesses, “no matter how much I'd like to.”

Silence fills the space the two of you take up. It would feel suffocating if not for the way you rub his hands with your thumbs, grounding him to this moment. It feels so easy to just run away, but he stands with you until you find the words to speak. You tell him finally, “You are important to me no matter what you're going through.” His breath catches. “And if that sort of intimacy makes you feel uncomfortable, we can be together without sleeping together for as long as you need.”

You are firm with your words, and Astarion blinks away wetness in his eyes and tries to reach for levity as he always does. “Why, that almost sounds like a challenge,” he says, and when you do a little laugh, he feels lighter.

The two of you are by no means a perfect union. Far from it: who would ever imagine a vampire rogue and a devoted paladin to be a match for each other? And yet, you want to make the two of you work. He wants it to work, whatever it is they are. Rather than fear or apprehension, he finds himself in anticipation for an unknown destination with you by his side.

(It feels a little bit like death, in a good way. To imagine this is how people feel all the time– excited and terrified all at once; how do they all do it?)

Astarion lets out a laugh of his own. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next,” he says. He raises his hands where they are connected to you. "But I know that this? This is nice."

Your smile is wobbly with emotion, and your eyes shining with an affection that Astarion has grown familiar with. "Dance with me?”

Astarion responds by taking one of your hands and placing a kiss at your knuckle. The smile he receives from you is daylight and he basks in its presence. “Shall I take the lead this time, darling?”

“Only just this once,” you tease, and he is almost giddy at the banter. Oh, how quickly the two of you begin anew, as if no hurt has been done. Eyes wet with emotion now dry and upturned from mirth as Astarion dramatically presents your hand, walking down the stairs to join in the banquet.

How ridiculous mankind is, for celebrating while their fate looms over the horizon at Baldur's Gate. How incredulous people are for still holding onto hope even when hope seems all but lost. Astarion still thinks it unwise to trust others in a world where only the strongest survive, but perhaps he has changed just a bit if he thinks it is not quite so impossible to believe in it himself.

He is not healed– and he feels he will not be for some time, not as long as Cazador still lives. But much like the shadow-cursed land, he feels as though he is healing. At your side, with his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours to twirl you on a wooden dance floor as you laugh until you are breathless– he can finally try.

And perhaps that is all that matters.

(Sleeping beneath the stars, a night before reaching Baldur's Gate, Astarion thinks about how you have given him precious, impossible moments of comfort. He had only expected to have a few more before an untimely death but after time and time again, the two of you live.

But just how long will that luck last?

With Cazador, the two avatars of death, and the elder brain looming over their fates, Astarion feels a fear unlike what he has ever faced, for he has far more to lose than just himself now. It suffocates him. Because he is not good enough- not strong enough. Not for you, not for Cazador, nor for the gods that never answered him.

Unless…

If he takes Cazador's power for his own, if he can ascend and become a creature far beyond a true vampire… he can finally keep the two of you safe– for good. From all the evils of the world, from the Cazadors, from whoever dares to threaten the two of you.

Whoever must be sacrificed to make it happen be damned. Astarion will be selfish enough for the two of you.

A part of him wonders if you will still love him then.)

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #thank god i split act ii into 2 parts

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dragon-ascent · 1 year

Text

Mora For Your Thoughts?

Zhongli is always interested in what you have to say, no matter what it is.

★彡penny for your thoughts, zhongli edition.

"Mora for your thoughts?"

You smile up at your husband, whose question has pulled you out of your midday reverie. Zhongli sets the tea tray he’s been holding on the table, settles beside you on the couch with a tender smile and kisses your cheek, eagerly awaiting your answer.

"Well," you begin, "I was wondering why cats get nine lives, but dogs don't."

Zhongli rubs his chin thoughtfully. "A fascinating question. In fact, I seem to recall a story from centuries past that tells the story of a cat and his dog companion, and how they once compete for immortality." He pauses, knowing that the story will take all evening to narrate - which he will only do if you're fine with it.

You rest your head on his shoulder, knowing full well that any story from Zhongli's internal archives is bound to be a treat. "Go on." There is tea, and there is time.

******

"Mora for your thoughts?"

Sitting by the windowsill, you keep your gaze upon the clear sapphire sky up above. "I was just wondering what it would feel like to soar in the sky, unfettered by the troubles of the world below."

Zhongli hums. "If I weren't living strictly as a mortal, I would love to let you ride on my back across the skies."

You turn to him, a big smile on your face. "Wow, really? In your dragon form?"

"Of course, dearest. Though I doubt that would be possible at present, but perhaps one day." He, too, now looks up into the blue, blue sky.

You shake your head. "It's the thought that counts! Just imagining it makes my heart race! I've always wanted to ride you - I...I mean ride on your back while you're in dragon form..."

Zhongli throws his head back and laughs, a pleasant, rumbling baritone that never fails to make butterflies erupt within you. With golden eyes full of mirth, he says, "For now, I shall regale you with descriptions of the sky and clouds from my own experiences. Would you like that?"

"Yes please! Tell me all there is to see and experience alongside the loftiest birds!"

And thus, your husband kisses your forehead and begins to narrate his skyward anecdotes, each description more vivid than the last, until it feels like you are up there in the skies atop a draconic Zhongli, feeling the wind race across your face and the clouds split into tendrils like cotton.

******

You narrow your eyes down at the book you're reading, utterly displeased with the direction the author's taking. Though you suppose it's to be expected of a run-of-the-mill romance... still, you sigh and look up from the novel, finding Zhongli's own inquisitive gaze upon you. He is reading a book as well, but for now chooses instead to focus on his beloved.

"Mora for your thoughts?"

You smile at the fondly familiar question. "I just find it frustrating how, in the novel I'm reading, the main character is more attracted to the man with anger issues and a drinking problem, rather than the level-headed and genuinely kind man."

"Ah, a case of second-lead syndrome, hm?"

"Yup," you affirm, and then sigh again, "it wouldn't be so bad if the romance scenes were at least well-written. None of them seem romantically-charged at all. It's frustrating. There's so many things the author could have done..."

"Is that so?" Zhongli sets aside his book, his eyes carefully trained on you. "Have you any suggestions?"

It's an innocuous question, so you answer without hesitating. "They could've had a scene where they were pressed together in a tight space, or had to share a single bed at a busy inn...and their kissing scenes are drier than the Desert of Hadramaveth! I would've liked it if their kisses had both passion and tenderness."

A soft chuckle, and Zhongli is now cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch contentedly as his thumb draws soothing circles along your cheek. "Shall we enact your romantic fantasies and make them a reality?"

Saying this, your husband kisses you, equal parts tender and passionate. What follows makes sure you know firsthand that what you two have is miles more powerful than words in the pages of a book.

#zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #sini writes #zhongli x you #fluff #mora

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midnightshade · 9 months

Text

Title: The Greatest Curse

↷Synopsis: An Assortment of NSFW and SFW Headcanons of how Kenjaku would be in a relationship

Pairing: Kenjaku x Reader

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: E (Explicit)

Word Count: 3,373

Warnings: Slight Possessiveness and Controlling Behavior from Kenjaku, Breeding, Pregnancy, Marking, Rough Sex, Mentions of Violence, Exhibitionism, Anal, Consensual Noncon

Author's Note: I updated this because I had accidentally deleted the other one from my old blog, so I re-did it. Hope y'all enjoy ♡

Masterlist

reblogs and interactions are incredibly appreciated ♥︎

Kenjaku loves life. He likes living and he likes people! He hasn't been jaded by his long life and sees the opportunity and potential in even the mundane. That being said, he doesn't often let himself get attached to people.

It makes sense. He's functionally immortal, so getting attached to any one individual can be impractical. Making long-term friends instead of just allies or finding a lover seems like an impossibility. So when he finds himself getting attached to you, he does what he usually does when he feels a connection forming: deny it.

His immediate reaction is to try and deny any feelings of fondness he has for you and keep you at arm's length. There's definitely a "testing period" for Kenjaku when he notices he's taken a liking to you.

You will notice a shift in his personality. Kenjaku is a polite man, all things considered. He's capable and willing to work with others to achieve his goals, but you will notice him pull away.

He isn't outwardly rude, especially if he still needs you as an ally, but his responses are kept clipped and he is more demanding of you than before.

If you manage to push past this roadblock and he finally accepts that he likes you, it's like a 180.

He isn't especially doting, but he is devoted.

Whatever the reason, if you've somehow managed to slip past his defenses and become someone he actually cherishes, consider yourself blessed.

Just by virtue of being with him, your relationship will not always be the safest or the healthiest.

To be blunt, you'll know he loves you because he hasn't killed you. If he's allowing you to stay at his side and to warm his bed every night instead of just disposing of you once you stop being useful, then he loves you.

Because this type of love is so rare for him, know that he tends to be possessive. I do see him preferring more capable partners, so if you can defend yourself or if you're clever enough to get out of a bad situation, he has no issue with letting you wander and do as you please.

But he will check up on you, and he does tend to prefer having you close by. Just for his peace of mind.

He will mentor you in any variety of subjects if you ask. He finds it fun to share his knowledge, and watching you learn and grow is an exciting side project for him.

Kenjaku isn't typically one to say "I love you," aloud. It isn't like he'd never say it, he's just more likely to show love and affection through acts of service and physical touch

He likes to be touching you when he can. A hand on your shoulder or an arm coiled around your midsection. He enjoys hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder or your head, usually to look over what you're doing.

Likes soft affection like kissing your knuckles or your forehead. He is prone to grabbing your chin or cupping your face to make you look at him when he's speaking.

Admittedly, his controlling nature can bleed through in little behaviors like that. He sees you as his partner, but he's more comfortable leading the relationship.

He doesn't really get jealous, but he can be protective. If you're targeted, he won't waste his time dispatching the problem.

If someone hurts you, there's really no question about what their fate will be. Messing with you is the single dumbest thing anyone can do. He will have no mercy and he will not hold back. All it takes is one wrong move before they're reduced to an unidentifiable stain of red on the pavement

He likes a partner with ambition. If you have the drive to pursue your goals, he finds that incredibly attractive. He will nudge you in that direction if you're more on the timid side.

He likes children so he is very keen on it if you're either good with kids or have some sort of fondness for them.

Even if you struggle with children, don't despair. For a millennia old evil Sorcerer, he's surprisingly talented with kids and he's more than happy to teach you how to properly care for and spend time with them.

If children are something you 100% do not want, he will struggle a little with that. He likes children and he wants them, especially with an actual lover. I don't know if he will be okay with never having children.

The kids he's already had were mostly for experimental purposes. He wants to experience what it's like to actually have children just to have them.

He might try to convince you or manipulate you into it. He might love you, but Kenjaku is used to getting what he wants.

Isn't big on most pet names, but he will call you things like "dear" or "love." Likes it when you call him pet names, though. He finds them amusing

If you're in a relationship with him, you have to accept all of him, especially his work. He enjoys his work, and he's naturally very curious. He loves you, but he isn't abandoning his work for anyone. It's his passion

If you have a quick and ready mind and show that you're just as curious as he is, he will fall for you hard and fast. He craves intellectual stimulation and wants someone to call an equal. He loves talking to you about anything and everything. It's comforting for him to have someone to dispel the loneliness for once.

However, his work isn't just fun and games. He is not a good person. He has killed people and destroyed lives without a second thought just to further his goals and satisfy his own curiosity. You have to accept this part of him as well if you're going to be with him.

Seriously, if you're at all squeamish, a relationship will not work with him. He's prone to dissecting curses and humans alike, and you've definitely seen his brain on more than one occasion. Not to mention the amount of blood he has on his hands.

If he trusts you enough, you will end up being involved in his plans, meaning you'll be getting your hands dirty. His work is important to him, so there's no greater honor than being entrusted with it.

He is happy when you take a genuine interest in his work. He's the type to guide you through the process of dissecting a curse and see it as a genuine bonding experience.

He likes quiet moments together. He is especially fond of when you rest against his chest while he reads over something. Will often play with your hair at the same time

Regardless of whether or not you're a Heian Era Shaman who has been following him for centuries or a Modern Day Sorcerer, please have some fun with him.

He has a deep love and appreciation for life. He likes to have fun! (Often at the expense of others) Don't be afraid to be spontaneous with him or drag him somewhere just because it piques your interest. He enjoys someone who likes to have fun.

He's interested in new inventions, always has been. New tech, breakthroughs in science and medicine. Even TV and video games.

He actually loves video games. He doesn't always have time for them or to keep up with new IPs, but he enjoys playing with you. Especially retro style games and puzzle games like Portal.

He can be a little shit. He will pull little pranks on you or come up behind you and tickle you. He enjoys getting a bit of a rise out of you and thinks it's funny when you yelp and pout at him. He'll give you kisses all over your face as an empty apology.

Little things show his trust for you. Letting you sleep with him, eating the food you make without worry of poisons, allowing you to tend to the stitches along his head. All of those are rather vulnerable situations, and he doesn't shrink away from letting you near.

He's a great cook. He's had time to practice, so he'll surprise you every now and then with a meal he's prepared. It's typically vegetarian, because that's what he's used to, but it's always delicious and leaves you wanting more.

Be warned, this is Kenjaku we're talking about. He can be manipulative. He'd rather talk any problems out, and he doesn't have patience for childish screaming matches or arguments. He'll talk circles around you, anyhow. He knows how to bend people to his will.

He is a vain man, at least I tend to think so. He has an aesthetic he likes to keep to, even when he's changing bodies, and he tends to prefer more traditional styles of fashion.

Because of this, I think he might be a little insecure about his appearance. He'd sooner gargle shards of glass before ever admitting to it, but once you enter into a relationship with him, there's this slight hesitation from him to change bodies if he thinks his new host won't be as attractive.

As such, he greatly appreciates loyalty. Assure him you still love him, no matter what he looks like, regardless of whether he's a man or woman. It puts his mind at ease.

If you don't flinch away at the sight of his brain, he will fall deeper in love. Being able to handle the sight and also see him in such a vulnerable position means a lot

He's a possessive man. As mentioned before, he likes people but he rarely allows himself to get attached. Being his lover means he is very fond of you, which means he is not letting you go

When you die, he will reincarnate you. It doesn't matter if some other poor soul has to die so you can use their body, all he cares about is having you back with him where you belong.

And know that he will revive you as many times as necessary. If you die in action or of old age, no matter what era he met you in, he's bringing you back.

Til death do us part, but not even death can part you from him. You are his, and that's just how it is.

Loving him isn't always easy or safe, but if he's let you by his side, know that you're the most important person to him. You're under his protection, and he will see to it that you're well loved and well taken care of.

NSFW Under The Cut:

Kenjaku is a walking breeding kink. This man gets insanely horny thinking about flooding you with his seed and getting you pregnant. It doesn't matter if you physically can't get pregnant, he's going to fuck and fill you regardless.

His breeding kink isn't just for show, either. If you two have been together long enough, he will want children eventually. He'll either breed you himself or, if you have a dick, he'll jump into a body with a womb and carry the baby himself.

His favorite position is a mating press. Any position that lets him fuck you hard and deep and that lets his balls smack against you is his favorite.

He can't bring himself to pull out. If he's fucking you, he's milking his balls inside of you. It just feels better to cum inside and he enjoys the intimacy of it.

The one exception are the rare times he pulls out when he's fucking your mouth so he can cum all over your face. He loves seeing you painted with his cum.

He needs to cum at least twice a day, so prepare to have your holes stuffed often

To say he prefers rough sex would be an understatement. He can be violent in bed and he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure.

If you're a one-night stand that could be a problem because he would care very little about your pleasure or comfort, but as his lover he would be more attentive to your needs.

He'll slow down and be more gentle if he needs to be and he never pushes you further than he thinks you can take. He'd also implement a safe word if necessary.

Not to say he never enjoys slow, gentle sex just for himself because he does. He likes to see you come undone underneath him, watching you fall apart with every slow roll of his hips and every gentle kiss to your face.

He likes marking you. Leaving bruises all over your pretty skin, biting you and sucking hickeys all over your neck. They're presents from him, proof of his ownership.

He also likes being marked in return. He will keen if you rake your nails down his back and if you bite him, he always encourages you to bite him harder. He doesn't mind bleeding a little.

He is great at aftercare, despite what people may think. He'll clean you up and make sure your injuries are tended to, all the while praising you for being so good.

He likes to cuddle after sex. He enjoys the quiet intimacy of holding you in his arms, basking in the afterglow. Sometimes, he'll doze silently as you both regain your energy, but usually, he'll engage in pillow talk, usually about whatever has piqued his interest.

His marking kink ties closely with his breeding kink. He sees the act of breeding you as another way to mark you as his own, and if you can get pregnant, he will show you off a lot and ensure everyone knows he's the one who put a baby in you.

He has a praise kink and a body worship kink. He's vain, so hearing his partner call him beautiful or handsome really gets him going. He likes to be pampered and worshipped in bed, even as the dominant one. He wants you to submit and praise him for making you feel so good.

He also likes praising you. He takes pleasure in watching you blush or look away in embarrassment at his words. He'll say the nastiest shit in your ear in the sweetest, most affectionate voice he can.

Just like in the relationship itself, Kenjaku prefers to take a more dominant role. He doesn't like giving up control, despite what he might say otherwise.

He gets a headrush knowing you completely submit to him. Having that power over you is intoxicating.

He'll let you top him, but don't mistake the situation. You may be the one fucking him, but he's the one in control.

If he's in a male body, please play with his ass. He turns into a drooling mess if you fuck him in the ass. Whether you're using your fingers, your dick, or a strap-on, it's one of the few times you can actually make Kenjaku beg for more.

Tease his asshole with your fingers, lick and kiss at it before shoving your fingers in, and his thighs will start to shake before he demands more. He's a size king, so the bigger the better

He also loves being eaten out. Spend enough time between his legs eating his ass (or his pussy if he has one) and he will fall deeper in love with you. He'll pull and pet your hair and moan out praises as you please him with your mouth.

It's rewarding seeing a man like Kenjaku turn into a desperate mess.

If he has a dick, depending on the body he's in, he loves having his balls played with. The fastest way to get him in the mood is to come up behind him and grope and fondle his balls. Squeeze them gently and tug on them and Kenjaku will slam you against the nearest wall and fuck you until you're unconscious.

Big on Somnophilia. He will discuss it with you if that's a boundary, but if you give him the go-ahead, he will take advantage of it. There will be times when you'll wake up, and he'll already be balls deep inside of you.

He is not shy, and he has no shame. He actually gets turned on fucking you in front of people and sees it as another way to claim ownership. He has no problem continuing a conversation while you're moaning and creaming around his cock.

He has a stupidly high libido, but his self-control is even worse. Sure, he may not mind bouncing you on his dick in front of people, but if you're purposefully trying to get him to lose control, he has no problem ignoring you.

Be careful, though, because when he gets the chance, he will pull you aside and bend you over the nearest flat surface and fill you up until you're a drooling mess.

He will walk out with you trailing behind him, legs shaking and cum still dripping out of your twitching hole while he looks like he hardly broke a sweat from breeding you.

He likes to cockwarm you, but he's more so obsessed with the feeling of you cumming around his throbbing cock.

He'll play with your pussy or stroke your cock mindlessly while you shift and grind yourself against him. He's stubborn and won't move, but his free hand will be placed firmly on your hip to keep you still. When you finally cum, he revels in the way you clench and pulse around him

Kenjaku loves edging and overstim. Receiving and giving. He will often do it together, edging the both of you while he fucks you, making the sensations more intense until you just can't handle it anymore.

When he's built up the pleasure enough he'll make you cum over and over and over until you're crying from overstimulation. But he won't stop until he's satisfied and exhausted

Please have fun with him. Sex can be passionate and romantic, but he never wants it to be a chore or a job. He wants it to be fun!

Make jokes, be silly, laugh at the weird noises bodies can make sometimes or if one of you accidentally hits your head against something from going too hard. He doesn't want it to be boring.

He loves pleasuring you just as much as he likes to be pleasured. He's more giving in bed than people may think.

If you have periods, he literally does not care about having sex while you're bleeding. You've seen his brain, he's killed people. Do you think a little blood will gross him out?

His dirty talk is more graphic and usually tends to be about the act itself, about how he wants to fill you up and make you scream for more.

He's fine with calling you a slut or a whore, but he doesn't like calling you thinks like stupid or ugly. Even he would never go there.

You have probably kissed his brain at one point and yes, the mouth inside of it can be used. He has eaten you out/sucked you off with it before and it was as strange as it was arousing.

Not to mention a little nerve-wracking since you were concerned about hurting the very sensitive organ.

Kenjaku finds it arousing and very comforting that, even in bed, you don't find his Technique off-putting.

He's into consensual noncon. Dubcon, to be more specific.

He likes it when you struggle against him and make him work for it. He likes to force you down or force your legs open

Fight back against him, and it'll really get him going, but he does have a limit.

He would be turned off if you cried or screamed at him to stop, even if you were acting. He likes a little chase and struggle, but the idea of actually forcing you turns him off.

Having you fight back a little, only to submit and beg for more is what he wants. He wants to be desired, after all.

He may be rough in bed and possessive, but he loves you more than anything.

You're his, every part of you, but that also means every part of him is yours.

#kenjaku #reader insert #sin of lust #Kenjaku x reader #jjk reader insert #Midnight's Grimoire

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aethon-recs · 1 year

Text

24 Tomarrymort Recs for 2022 (One-Shot Edition)

A thank-you to the Tomarrymort community, inspired by @sitp-recs's wonderful rec lists!

Criteria for this list: one-shot, complete, published in 2022. I tried to include a wide array of tropes and themes and ratings, but of course I haven't read everything published on AO3 in the past year, so please always feel free to drop fic suggestions in my Ask box! I aimed for 22 fics (for 2022) but found too many unforgettable fics in my bookmarks, so 24 it is.

(Standard rec list disclaimers apply: please mind the tags; this is not intended as the ultimate reclist, only a reflection of my own tastes + what I had time to read this year; recs are arranged alphabetically by fic title.)

Multi-chaptered fics and WIPs will get their own posts, but for now, please enjoy these wonderful one-shots that were all written in the last year and remind me of how multifaceted and talented our little corner of the fandom is! These amazing authors made me gasp and cry and laugh and heavy breathe (sometimes all within the same fic). *

Tomarrymort Recs (One-Shot Edition)

Alive Really Isn't Your Color by @meles-merrivale (T, 6k)

A beautifully written, bittersweet take on Harry's life after the war and what it means to fall in love with someone you're supposed to hate and who's supposed to be dead. There's so many stunning, evocative lines from this fic that I could quote, but I'll leave you with this one: "How did Harry ever think Voldemort didn’t understand emotion? The man feels everything, feels it with his whole body, twisting his face and coiling his magic and tearing apart the world with the force of it."

contrapasso by hanamichi (E, 13k)

This was GRIPPING from beginning to end. The author does an incredible job with showcasing Harry's struggling emotional state after the war, and his grief is just so palpable. Harry and Voldemort's dynamic is gorgeous here.

From Every Ruin by @officialsporkintheroad (M, 5k)

Time loops beloved! This was such a clever take on the classic graveyard encounter, and there's nothing more that I love seeing than Harry losing it with every successive time loop.

Gaunt by @wixen-writes-tomarry (M, 8k)

A sense of uneasiness pervades this fic — lots of haunting prose and elements of psychological horror — it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. A must-read if you like alternate takes on Harry encountering another one of Tom's horcruxes (in this case, the ring horcrux).

In Your Image by @perhaps-sunlight (T, 11k)

An AU loosely based on the Portrait of Dorian Gray, with Tom as a painter who's found immortality and eternal youth by stealing his victims' souls away and what happens when he sets his eyes on Harry— very suspenseful and gripping throughout, and I love how it cleverly weaves in elements of canon that were very fun to recognize!

knock it off by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts (E, 3k)

Harry having a masochistic streak is a characterization that I adore, and this fic does an amazing job delving into this aspect of his psychosexual development that by the time he meets the locket horcrux, it all goes downhill from there. It's also so funny and written in a snappy way, I laughed out loud at the ending.

Love at First Sight by @dividawrites (E, 5k)

One of the funniest things I've ever read in this ship — every single line of Harry's desperate pleading to Voldemort had me howling. And it wouldn't be a Divida fic without super hot smut at the end (featuring! actual! hemipenes!!) The best take on creature inheritance trope I've read.

My Decorated Horcrux by @youknowmevj (E, 4k)

I love Voldemort wins AUs; it's fascinating to explore the dynamic that he'd have with Harry in his new regime, and oh, does this fic deliver! Voldemort adorning Harry and showing him off is always a treat, plus Harry remaining his defiant self — so many fun elements in this PWP.

on the other side by @philolust (E, 3k)

One of the most haunting things I've read this year. Voldemort's POV is surprisingly heartbreaking; actually, the whole fic is heartbreaking. I don't want to give too much away, but this is an EXCELLENT take on the trapped-in-a-room trope.

On the rejection of love by Baryshnikov (T, 2k)

A really interesting exploration of Tom being aroace and what that means in terms of being in a relationship with Harry. I love this author's series on aroace Tom overall; it was hard to pick a favorite!

paradise / circus by but_seriously (E, 5k)

Snappy banter and really hot smut in this PWP, a perfect generation mashup that showcases a great depiction of how Harry doesn't actually hate Tom as much as he claims 😊

Personal Assistant by @phantomato (E, 10k)

This one is an absolute masterpiece, an incredible study in suspense. It's a really unique take on a universe where Voldemort never comes back after his initial downfall on Oct 31, 1981, and features a very realistic depiction on who Harry grows to be if he didn't have the formative childhood adventures that we saw in the books. There's an incredibly skillfully crafted mystery at the heart of this story, and when it all comes together in the end, I screamed and gasped and immediately reread it looking for clues that Phantomato had layered in all throughout.

saw you in a dream by @duplicitywrites (E, 2k)

Dream sex with Voldemort! The writing is so ethereal and floaty and poetic, packed full of intensely sensual phrases like, "Its shadowy form sinks deeper into Harry's body, soothing him. Harry can feel it everywhere, like ice through his veins, like they’re two halves of the same whole." It's the perfect dream sex sequence fic 💖

Sola Fide by @crowcrowcrowthing (M, 8k)

So very atmospheric and a fascinating depiction of ritual magic and Voldemort as an actual god! AUs are a really great way to explore what makes the core of a character — that even if it's the characters thrust in different circumstances, you can still tell who they are at their core, and this fic does a fantastic job of reimagining Harry and Voldemort meeting under different circumstances.

Something New by @itsevanffs (E, 2k)

A fresh (and super hot!) take on A/B/O dynamics, featuring both Alpha Harry and Alpha Tom, with both of them overriding their natural instincts in different ways in order to be with each other. The control, the restraint, the desperation, the taboo-ness of what they're doing within their society — all amazing elements that have made this into one of my favorite A/B/O dynamics that I've read. Alpha/Alpha is so underrated! (Also, not a tag that can be filtered yet on AO3, for some reason).

such a heavenly way to die by driftingsea (M, 7k)

This was SO clever and funny, and an amazing play on Harry being MoD. I don't want to give too much away, but let's just say this fic perfectly captures how murder is the ultimate Tomarry love language.

take this kiss (upon the brow) by @audair (T, 2k)

Incredibly beautiful and poetic prose. The mysterious backstory behind the Tomarry established relationship had me on the edge of my seat. This is one I'll reread over and over again for the haunting and atmospheric prose.

The gift by @metalomagnetic (E, 1.6k)

The perfect follow-up to 'Either must die' told from Voldemort's POV — surprisingly sweet and, not surprisingly, very sexy. As always, Metalo's fics pack a huge emotional punch; this one accomplishes it in just 1600 words — every single sentence is emotionally significant and not a single word is wasted - a must-read if you've read EMD.

the monster you (don't) see by Lils_White (E, 2k)

Harry pining for Voldemort after the war. A lovely, haunting, perfect depiction of dream sex, where you've left wondering what is a dream and what is real.

The Ties That Bind by @mosiva (E, 8k)

Mosiva writes an amazing Harry and Tom dynamic, as well as consistently delivers on great smut, and Tom here is a gem. This fic showcases Tom at his manipulative (sexiest) best, and the progression of Harry growing more drawn to Tom feels very natural and unrushed. Also, did I mention how hot the smut is? The author has other chaptered works that are worth checking out as well, if you like this dynamic!

The Train Station at Forever by @vdoshu (T, 1k)

This is one of the most deeply emotional takes I've seen on the endless reincarnation cycles theme (usually due to Harry being MoD and Voldemort being tied to Harry's soul). In just 1000 words, Doshu does an amazing job of capturing the angst and torment of Harry and Tom achieving "immortality" in this manner, and left me in shivers.

We Still Have Time by @duplicitywrites (T, 9k)

This was SO BEAUTIFUL and SO SAD, an incredible depiction of holding onto someone you love even after death, and I can't even think about this fic without wanting to weep. One of the most heartwrenching things I've read in all of fanfic, in all of my years reading fanfic. I very rarely cry reading fics, and god, I cry every time I've reread this fic. This is duplicity angst at its finest.

Wrath of the Lamb by @penmanner (M, 6k)

One of the most unique takes I've seen on Harry time-traveling to Tom's time in the 1940s. Something goes wrong, and Harry has amnesia but still a sense of purpose. The author's writing is gorgeous and poetic and does an amazing job of illustrating how disorienting Harry's experience is. I absolutely LOVE the amnesia trope, and this fic does it amazing justice.

you, me, a room we made by @kkeikatt (E, 9k)

This PWP was a delight to read. Voldemort and Harry trapped in a room together and the best option is to fuck each other? YES. Sign me up. The smut is extended and memorable and oh so glorious.

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #2022 reads #2022 recs #one-shot recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs

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moremaybank · 1 year

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heyy! if you have time, i'd really like some angst that will make me cry... lol i was thinking klaus x wife! reader where they have been together all these years and he lets his paranoia get ahead of him and hee daggers her to "keep her safe" and then years later he undaggers her and she is all betrayed and whatever else you want ❤️ thanks!

PARANOIA — k.m

pairing klaus mikaelson x fem!reader

summary klaus goes too far while trying to protect you and your shared family.

warnings angst, klaus and reader arguing, klaus daggering reader

author's note hope you like it, babes!

klaus masterlist

yours and klaus's story had always been sacred to you both.

you'd met as children, klaus teaching you how to craft paints from the countless flowers he'd found in the forest. you tended to cuts and bruises branded on him by mikael, wiping away his tears as you tried your best to take even a fraction of his pain away. you were turned together, struggling to adjust to the changes that came with being immortal. when klaus broke his curse, you were right there by his side, reassuring him that you would navigate through it together.

you'd fled each and every home you'd made together, constantly on the run from the man klaus called father. you fought tirelessly to protect his siblings, the ones you'd considered to be your family as well. you'd hunted down doppelgängers in search of breaking his curse, fought against the numerous enemies klaus had made over the centuries, built empires together...the list goes on.

but never in a million years had you ever expected to find yourselves where you were right now.

"i've had enough, klaus! for weeks now, you've been pushing me away. casting me aside like i'm some toy you're no longer interested in playing with. i deserve more! so you're either going to talk to me, or i'm going to have to investigate for myself."

"leave it alone, y/n. this does not concern you."

"of course it does! we've been building a life together for a thousand years. your battles are my battles. your triumphs are my triumphs. every single decision you make affects me, and vice-versa. we've always faced our problems together, so why is it any different now?"

"it's different because you've become a weakness!"

klaus's statement caught you off-guard, and you swore you felt your heart shatter at his tone.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

klaus squeezed his hand into a fist tightly, trying to calm himself down before he said something he would never be able to take back.

"i will not allow my enemies to use you against me. if they manage to take you away from me, they can use your knowledge about my family and me as ammunition to tear us apart. everything we've ever built will end up in nothing but ash, all because i wasn't smart or brave enough to take the proper precautions needed to protect my family."

"our family! ours!" you argued. "we're married! does that not hold any weight for you? because it does for me.”

klaus remained silent, avoiding your gaze as the guilt coursed through him. he didn't want this. not for you and not for himself. but what choice did he have? he'd betrayed his siblings left, right and centre any time it had served him, but even he knew that he was wrong. and he was trying to make things right. no matter what, he'd always protect them. even if it meant losing out on the things and people he'd loved. like you.

"this isn't you, klaus. this isn't us. we're supposed to be honest with each other and make each other better. forever. even when we lose our way. especially then. but we can't do that when you refuse to talk to me or even look at me, for that matter."

you approached him carefully, hands smoothing up his arms to rest on his broad shoulders. it took a bit of silent pleading, but you got him to look at you. "please, my love. whatever's going on, we can deal with it together, just as we always do." klaus refuses to answer you, and you sigh. "this is bigger than just us. it's about our family. now, i will go down swinging for every last one of you, but you need to let me."

klaus shrugged your hands off of him with a huff, "that's the problem."

"what? what is?"

"the fact that you won't ever let these things go. you would fight to the death for us, and that is the exact thing that is going to get you killed."

tears welled in your eyes as your expression changed. you crossed your arms in defence, brows furrowing as you looked away from him. "oh, so— so what? it's perfectly fine for you to risk everything to save our family, but when i try to do the same, it's an issue?"

"you aren't listening—"

"no, you aren't listening! you don't get to make decisions for me. you can't just cut me out of your diabolical plans and expect me to sit here and take it. this affects me too! why can't you see that?"

again, klaus had no answer. you struggled to accept it, because how could the man who always seemed to have something to say have absolutely no words for you now?

"you're letting your paranoia cloud your judgement. you can't give it the power. you have to trust that we'll be okay."

"trust can be a fickle thing, love. anything can change in an instant. and you're right, i am paranoid. i'm allowing my demons to control me, and the only way i can take my power back is if i try to beat it. and i only know of one way that i can." klaus started to walk toward you, much too calmly for your liking. a look of confusion washed over your features. a chill ran down your spine at his tone.

"klaus...what's going on with you? seriously." you backed up with each step he took forward until your back hit the wall behind you.

klaus's hand came up to your face, gently holding your gaze on him. "i refuse to let anything happen to you. you're too precious to me," he breathed. "and it pains me to do this. in fact, if i could be killed, this would be the very thing that would end my life. but i cannot afford to take chances with your life."

klaus reached behind him, his movements calm so as to not startle you. he pulled the dagger out of his back pocket and slowly brought it forth. you looked downward as you felt the tip of it pressing against your chest ever so slightly.

"klaus, no. you can't. you won't."

your eyes met klaus's again as he took a deep breath. "i need to know you're safe. this is the only way i can be certain."

a combination of fear and anger was caught in your throat, but you forced yourself to speak. "if you do this, you'll lose me forever. and you know very well that forever is a long time, especially for a vampire."

"i don't have a choice, sweetheart," he whispered. and with that, he plunged the dagger into your heart. he held onto your frame as it grew lifeless. tears were cascading down his cheeks as he shut his eyes, clutching onto you. "even if you grow to hate me, you'll be alive to do so."

ten years had passed. the mikaelsons had relocated again and again, defeating their enemies as best as they could while doing so. though it hadn't been all smooth sailing.

your presence was felt by the lot of them. the ferocity with which you would fight for them. the love and constant kindness you showed them. the way you believed in the good parts in all of them. there was so much to love about you, and in light of klaus's actions, there was so much to regret the loss of.

none of them could say they were happy about the circumstance you'd been in, yet they couldn't deny that it quelled the fear of their enemies bringing you to a permanent death by their hands.

but now that the fire had died down, klaus could revive you.

klaus stood over your half-living body in your coffin, his undead heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.

"you cannot leave her like this forever," elijah spoke as he approached klaus from behind.

"i know. but i'm not ready to lose her," klaus breathed. "what if she never forgives me? i don't know that i can see myself going on without her. but i do know that i will turn into a man that even i won't be able to recognize."

elijah's hand came up to rest on klaus's shoulder. "you have to allow her to make her own decisions, brother. she will forgive you, or she will not. but she deserves the freedom to decide as she chooses."

klaus nodded his head, the movement barely noticeable. he knew elijah was right, and even if you chose not to forgive him, he could take comfort in the fact that you were alive and breathing. it would absolutely suck, but still, you wouldn't be dead.

"i'll leave you to it," elijah said, "but remember that all things aside, she loves you. no matter if she's hurt or angry. she loves you, niklaus."

klaus listened to the clicks of elijah's dress shoes against the ground as he left him alone with you. he took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was about to come. his hand wrapped around the dagger, closing his eyes as he carefully withdrew it from your chest. he placed it on the small table next to your coffin, taking a seat on his chair as he waited for life to spring back into you.

a few moments passed, and klaus watched as your fingers twitched. the grey complexion that took over your body started to fall away, the true tone of your skin taking its place. you groaned as you woke up from your decade-long slumber.

"love?" klaus questioned, quiet as a mouse. he stood up, approaching your coffin. "are you—" he paused with a huff, "how are you feeling?"

you sat up slowly, turning your head to look at klaus. the man you'd trusted with your heart and soul. as you stared at him, you didn't know if you felt that same trust. not after he betrayed you in the way he did.

"how am i feeling? " you asked. "i'm feeling like you daggered me and left me in a lifeless sleep for god knows how long." you sat up, climbing out of the coffin and smacking klaus's hand away when he tried to help you.

"sweetheart, please. let me explain—"

"explain what, klaus? i've given you everything. every last piece of me, and then some. and it still wasn't enough for you to trust me. do you know what that feels like?" he doesn't respond, but he keeps his gaze locked on yours. "it feels like choosing to love and stand by you was a colossal and utter waste of my time. a thousand years worth."

klaus stepped closer to you hesitantly, as his hands found your face. "i know you're angry with me. i understand. but you have to know that i only did what i did to protect you."

you sighed harshly, removing his hands from you. "don't. you don't get to do that. you don't get to dagger me and shove me in a box when my existence isn't convenient for you. i deserve more than that. more than you."

"y/n. i'm sorry. i did what i thought was right. i did what i knew would keep you alive. i was trying to protect you."

"i don't need you to protect me, klaus. i need you to respect me a—and to see me as your equal. but you don't. you just see someone you can push around. and i'm done putting up with it."

you began to walk away, but you paused, turning back to face him. “as the centuries passed, i’ve seen you do terrible, unspeakable things to a lot of people, but i always thought that you had a limit. i thought i would be your limit. but i guess i was wrong.”

"that's not true, y/n. you are the most sacred thing on this planet to me. you're everything. i couldn't risk losing you, especially not when i had the means to stop it," he replied. "please don't do this. don't walk away from us and everything we've built."

you scoffed, "there is no us, klaus. not anymore." you looked into his blue orbs, the very pair of eyes that once brought you so much joy now being the ones to bring you pain. “rebekah tried to warn me all those years ago, and i shrugged her off because i believed in you and i believed in what we had. but now…”

“…what are you saying?”

“i’m saying," you paused, "maybe she was right.” and with that, you left him. lost, alone, and afraid of what was to come.

klaus tag list (join here!): @princess-charming-01 @maybankslover @kittyqrt @darkmoonbloodshake @techlipse @the-kaya-aa @catmikaelson20 @hopesdadswife @amournoir @skydisneylover @iluvniklaus @diyabhanushali1 @your_best_hoe @ijustlovetoread @lyn07 @elenavampire21

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson angst #the originals #the originals x reader #the originals imagine #the originals one shot #the originals angst #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries one shot #the vampire diaries angst #tvdu #tvd universe #joseph morgan

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lady06reaper · 3 months

Note

hii!!! kenny x immortal! reader???? :DD

I have been WAITING for a Kenny ask, like foaming at the mouth

(ngl ive sent this in to other authors and got nun, no hate to them tho)

Kenny x Immortal! Reader

TW: death, alcohol, NSFW under the cut

Alright, right off the bat yall know each other because your friends with the group but they don't know your immortal whereas you know Kennys immortal (just go with it for now ;) )

How Kenny finds out is you and the four were hanging out by Kennys house in Sodosopa where that big building is

Yall decided to climb to the top and drink and do normal teenager things

like truth or dare

and Cartman being the asshole he is decided you need to jump off the building for the dare

"(Y/N), truth or dare?"

"Dare"

"I dare you to jump off the building"

"Okay, not that far of a fall"

you just shrug that shit off, turn to where your facing the guys and do a free fall backwards

they immediately scramble to see over the building

"Oh my god! Cartman killed (Y/N)!"

"You bastard!"

they just continue on like nothing, but Kenny remembers and the next day he confronts you HARD about it, like interrogation

"YOU'RE IMMORTAL!?"

"Yeah? So are you doofus"

Yall, he was a simp for you then but after that it just made you 10x hotter

you two got closer due to this

granted he can't take you out on fancy dates, but a picnic with PB&J at Starks Pond is just as good

yall best believe you guys tried to see who can hold their head underwater the longest

he VERY clingy now, like if you were mortal he'd still be clingy, but this is something else

like attached at the hip, granted yea you're immortal but that doesn't mean he wants to see you die

I can see either one of you do dumb shit and then die, and when you resurrect the other gives you a lecture like a parent

!!NSFW!!

he would quite literally ask if yall could fuck till one of you dies of an orgasm

I dont think he'd be into any kink that would involve harming you or him

but you best believe the bitch is gonna bite and scratch HARD

like you're bleeding hard

but dont worry! he will take care of you afterwards and make sure you aren't in any sort of medical danger

i fell like even though you're both immortal he wouldn't get tired of fucking you, whether its hard core or vanilla as hell

I hoped you enjoyed it! I'm so happy this was my first Kenny request. I have been thinking about writing an actual oneshot over this but idk.

#south park x reader #south park #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick

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pearlywritings · 1 year

Text

Behind the wall of falling snow we love

synopsis: Pierro is a mysterious man, the kind that guards his secrets well. One of them is being you, his lovely wife, his heart, his everlasting lover. And tonight he is finally stealing you from your duties and bringing you to his residence where you can drop the masks you wear for the people of Snezhnaya and be just a married couple.

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: smut, established relationship, immortal lovers (you and Pierro are Khaenri’ahns), religious themes, sliiiight a/b/o feature, oral, biting, unprotected sex, obviously size difference

word count: 8.1k+ words in total

author’s note: the words of prayer are actually a translated and altered from French song Ave Maria Païen from Notre Dame de Paris musical.

Ave Tsaritsa, please pardon me, if in your house I have come begging.

The Cathedral of Tsar the Saviour is a majestically built and decorated temple, having been honoring the previous Cryo Archon in the past, and now being full of prayers offered to the Tsaritsa. Today the official designation is the only reminder of in whose name it was founded, as every last piece inside and out was completely replaced with symbolism of the new deity, and Pierro personally made sure of it, solidifying her position and showing what a good and valuable asset he was.

And still is.

Ave Tsaritsa, no one ever taught me about kneeling.

Half-truth and half-lie. The people of Khaenri'ah had their ruler, to whom bowing heads and, on occasion, getting down on their knees was an etiquettish must. But they never had a god to humiliate themselves before. Even now, he doesn’t quite do so, always proudly standing akin to a frozen statue near the goddess, that is not his. Nor yours.

Ave Tsaritsa, please will you keep me from the misery, madness and fools, who rule this evil world?

That's what the purpose of the Harbingers is - enlightening the Snezhnayan people according to the wishes of Her Majesty Tsaritsa and ensuring that nothing can undermine their faith in her and push them off the intended path. Who knew that religion can be such a powerful instrument? Too bad it ended up in his and your hands. Of that he also made sure.

Ave Tsaritsa, I'm a stranger and you're my last recourse.

You were strangers to this snowy land; weakened and exhausted by the curse were your bodies the first time you ever saw your future salvation. Back then the kindness in her eyes wasn’t hidden behind a veil, and the heart, not yet frozen, tightened at the display of your tightly intertwined fingers, the stubborn desire not to let go of each other’s hand touched the deepest parts of her immortal soul. Nowadays Pierro may call it a memory that’ll never be proven existent, because the only person capable of telling it has locked herself in the Zapolyarny Palace, rarely appearing in front of anyone, and The Jester, despite the folly of his code name, is not an idiot to go and flaunt around about his dear one.

Ave Tsaritsa, please can't you hear me? Please take down all these walls between us. We all should be as one.

A wall between a follower and an Archon…foolish to try and break it. But the Cryo Archon heeds as she is fond of your singing, and you can hardly call yourself her follower, having willingly become an instrument in the silver-haired wise and cunning man’s hands. You became the holy wonder of Snezhnaya - a maiden, who hasn’t grown older a day over the centuries, and many generations came to witness your divine service and had your voice stuck in their minds, piercing their very souls. And the man could claim with certainty - you were loved by the people.

Ave Tsaritsa, please watch over my life night and day.

She really doesn’t, but Snezhnayans do, however it was by your wish and with your consent, that he put you before so many watchful eyes, and the Archon’s ones as well. But then again, if you want to hide something precious, you should put it right before the seeker’s nose. He made you adored, he secured your safety with the right deeds of yours - all Abyss would break loose if something happened to their cherished high priestess and no one would like to incur the wrath of the Tsaritsa and the Harbingers.

Ave Tsaritsa, oh please protect me. Please guard me and my love; now I pray.

His stone heart flutters for how softly, how tenderly have you sung of who your heart is beating for. Not for the deity, no - it’s pumping blood for the very man who is standing in the shadow of a wide pillar, gazing at you from behind a mask and holding a thick cape similar to his own, with his plans quite evident.

Tonight you are leaving with him.

Ave Tsaritsa. Amen.

You breathe the last words of the song against your hands, clasped together in front of you in a prayer, and the sound seems to infiltrate every corner of the grand catholicon. Your figure is ethereal, kneeling on the steps before the huge stained glass of the Cryo Archon your words were directed to. Basking in the light of the moon, pouring through the glass and painting you in the sacred blues of Her Majesty's robes, you look like a holy being, and had Pierro not known you were a sinner like him, he would've been tricked by your false chastity. Whiteness of the high priestess’s robes is pure, much purer than the snow outside, but now tainted by the colors of the Archon you both swore to serve.

Even if she doesn't, Pierro watches you, and his gaze will never waver.

Your archbishop’s crown reflects the light and diamonds gleam coldly, just like they are. The long veil hides your soft pretty hair he loves running his fingers through so much. It soothes him, reminds him of the times he used to witness you braiding them in the morning and unbraiding in the evening, sitting on the edge of your shared bed and talking about everything and nothing.

Now this became a privilege, one you are granted only once every couple of months. Sometimes separation is unbearable, but the different flight of time immortals experience makes it more tolerable. And you both know - it’s a small price for the power you managed to obtain.

Slowly you open your eyes - breathtaking cosmic crystals, that shine with pretensive innocence and have fooled and enchanted much more mortals you care to count. You are already doing so much for them, no need to try and remember every single one, it’s the clerics’ job and they fulfill it excellently under your guidance.

Pierro thinks this position suits you. You are not stupid, far from it, while leading others along the path he wants, you see right through it, never forgetting your homeland, never forgetting who you are, never forgetting the pain. You always were like this, even half a millenia ago your ingenious character intrigued him and pulled him to you like a magnet. Winning your affections and uniting your destinies by marriage is still one of his biggest personal achievements.

Despite being cursed, he is a blessed man and was one long before the doom was brought upon his nation. You are his eternal blessing.

You descend more gracefully than the deity behind you ever could in Pierro's eyes, because you were descending to him. Robes and the veil flow behind you magnificently - a sight he witnessed thousands of times, yet it still gets to steal his breath away, because you look like a lovely bride to be wed.

And I would marry you again, in every other world or timeline that is existent.

That’s what you told him when he admitted the reason for his awe-stricken expression during your first century of living in the land of snows. Even now, the cold and terrifying advisor of the Tsaritsa feels the same.

“Have you waited for long?” You start speaking not even halfway close to him. The question echoes in the majorly empty space, and prompts the man to step out of his hiding spot, becoming the victim of the moonlight as well.

“No, I have not,” his answer is short, but only because he doesn’t like getting personal before you two are back in his manor, where he knows no one can interfere. You simply nod at that.

“I’ll go and change. Will you wait for me, Lord Pierro?”

Always.

“Of course, Your Eminence,” he doesn’t ask you to take your time, and you know that while he is an embodiment of patience, you don’t have any second to waste.

Putting the crown on the pedestal and laying out your ceremonial clothes for the trusted deaconesses to take care of tomorrow, you can't stop the excitement pouring from your heart. Two months ago you couldn't meet due to the passing of the Eighth Harbinger - you were busy with the memorial service to commemorate La Signora and your beloved was stolen away by his duties and complications, caused by her death. While you did not hold anything against the fair lady, your thoughts were far from mourning, only thinking of the wasted time with an edge of bitterness. It happened before, and you learnt to bear with that, but even with all your practiced patience you'd never want the repeat of that three-year long occurrence when you haven't seen or heard from him at all due to your respective occupations.

You sigh in relief when the heavy fabric and furs are brought upon your shoulders, hiding the elegant, yet simple outfit, reserved for your outings. The weight of his big gloved palms is also welcomed and the deep sound of his voice washes like calming waves over you.

"Should we be on our way?" You don't see him, but you know the glow his eyes possess. Usually unreadable, they glint with emotion, the one - you can proudly declare - reserved only for you.

"Yes, we should, My Lord. We have quite a number of things to discuss and settle."

The staff of the Jester's manor know that their master and the head of the priesthood have business to discuss and under no circumstance should they be interrupted for the night and the next day. Fireplaces are lit and fresh wood is prepared. The room, that became your personal chambers in his estate, is cleaned and readied for your most comfortable stay, and the servants make sure to move as far away from the West wing, where it and the living room you use for your discussions are located. Eavesdropping is akin to a death sentence, but many would consider themselves imbeciles for trying to sneak on the two most respected and praised people in the whole country.

How fortunate it is that the Jester's personal chambers are in the same wing, just at the other end of the corridor? Servants have just one part of the building to avoid during those times, not worried about accidentally doing something wrong in regard to him and you.

Little do they know what exactly happens behind the closed door, since no one is allowed near them during these particular times. They can’t even fathom the sins your bodies bask in, perfect images crumbling down and revealing the real yous, wild and yearning, drinking up each other's touch like a life-saving water of the oasis, work talk replaced with sweet moans and low grunts and long-forgotten names occasionally slipping past your parted lips.

This is why the sheets get burnt after every stay of yours. Staff members know that's being done to prevent anyone from feeling tempted to steal and sell the fabric, touched by the skin of the Saint. In reality no one needs to know of the reasons behind torn holes and stains.

Pierro destroys them personally in the morning, as you calmly sip on your tea, seated in the armchair of his bedroom with nothing but the silk bathrobe covering your body (replaced by just his shirt occasionally). Only then you devote some of your time for actual discussions and planning, while having an amazing supper and regaining your strength for another couple of rounds, that do not even have to include the bed.

Sometimes, though, the discussion starts when servants leave you till the next evening - the time you inevitably shall depart.

"Anything notable on your side?"

You hum, plucking a pristine white petal from the water surface and twirling it between your fingers. The large floor-installed pool is enough to fit at least three people of your lover’s complexion, but there is only you, water up to your collarbones and pleasantly hot against your skin. Hundreds of petals float around you, covering your body from two piercing eyes and occasionally bumping against your bent knees, and you don’t even want to think how many flowers the servants wasted just to “please” you.

“Nothing much, and nothing of concerning importance” you admit with a huff. Church is actually a pretty good source of information; with Snezhnayan being such good believers and followers it is not hard to gather intel through confessions and later pass the concerning ones to Pierro for him to see if it actually can cause harm. But as of later it was very calm.

“Though I must admit, one young lady really caught my interest,” you throw the petal away and sink a bit deeper, water pooling around your neck now. You lift a leg, stretching a little, and from the corner of the eye watch the half-naked man, seated on the edge of the pool, following with his attentive gaze the path the droplets make down your smooth skin before they disappear somewhere at your thigh.

“And that is?” Oh, these eyes. If you were standing, you’d certainly sink onto the nearest piece of furniture, unable to fight its magic even hundreds of years later. His mostly bared body becomes the next victim of your fascination, and you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling that tingling sensation at the tips of your fingers.

“Well…” you hum again, holding his inquiring gaze and slowly, teasingly lowering your leg back into the water. “If you take all of your clothes off right now, I might tell you."

'All of his clothes' is an open shirt and a pair of pants, both made of a very light fabric. He probably abandoned the robe while walking through your bedroom, and the mask was most likely taken off there too.

"Oh?" His chest shakes with a deep chuckle, that has that specific dark edge to it, that makes you aware of why people submit to him. "It seems the information is really not of such a great importance, if you are asking me to undress in exchange."

"Mmm, you saw through my intentions. But can you really blame me? It's been so long…" Your voice trails off and you sigh, diverting your eyes elsewhere, sight quickly obscured with the images of your last encounters, making your heart clench. You must stay unbothered, but this is so excruciating, being trapped in the land of raging blizzards and frozen landscapes and the loving touch becoming not an everyday thing, but a seldom occurrence. The memories of what it used to be like are almost non-existent at this point, having been wiped out of your mind with the new reality.

Gaze falls onto your wrist and a small smile tugs onto your lips. An intricate band of the metal one would never find again and the stones that lie deep down in the mines of the miasm-contaminated homeland, rests against your skin, gleaming beautifully in the light. The same is wrapped around Pierro's wrist, just a bit wider than yours - one Khaenri'ahn tradition you were allowed to preserve - the symbol of your marriage, which in the broad daylight stays hidden under your long sleeves.

The rustle of clothes doesn't register in your brain right away, but when it does your head whips to the side, just in time to see the silver-haired man sit back down, carelessly dumping his nightwear near the side of the tube.

"Happy now?" All sorrowful thoughts leave your mind instantly when all of his body is on display for your hungry gaze. With a soft splash you lift yourself slightly, enough to get on your knees and move closer to him. His braceleted hand immediately takes a hold of yours and you comfortably lean your chest on his thigh, using an elbow to create support for your head to look up at him.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, my love."

My love. Sometimes Pierro thinks you are just a dream, a pretty, nostalgic dream, where love is not just a concept. Snezhnaya and the closeness to the Cryo Archon affected him far more than you. He toughened up, his gaze got heavier and frown deeper, lips are always drawn in a tight line and voice is even and cold, lack of emotion coming straight from his almost destroyed heart. Just one part is still alive, and warm, and capable of feelings.

This part is loving you.

"Do I deserve to be told what caught your interest?"

You smile at that, happy that he is willing to engage in a chat that doesn't relate to your plans at all. It's one of the things that serves as a reminder that you are special to him, more special than anyone and anything else, be it the Tsaritsa or your scheming.

"Oh, that's a funny thing!" Beaming, you trace one of the scars on his abdomen with your finger, noting with a smirk how it tenses under the touch. "One of your colleagues gained a faithful admirer. Quite a hopeful one, if I am being honest."

Pierro hums, showing that he is actually listening, and reaches his hand to gently pat your hair. You are so pretty, leaning on him, breasts pushed against his leg, back arched and fingers caressing his stomach, which soon becomes an absentminded gesture as your unkissed mouth moves in speech.

"She's been coming every week for three months already, lightening candles for his safe return."

'Not Arlechino, not Columbina,' he notes, attempting to distract himself from the image before him, but still noticing every single detail about his perfect wife. Hand slides to graze the side of your face and put a stray lock behind your ear. You glance up at him and, holding his gaze, turn your head in the opposite direction to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, just above the wedding band. Pierro sharply inhales.

"Either way, she's been confessing her affections and, as the priest described it, did so "in a dreamy voice a young girl would talk about upcoming marriage". You think I spoke to my parents the same way about you?"

Your gaze turns curious and the notion of your question finally manages to return his focus. It's not often that you voice the things from the past, but on particularly calm days like today it just slips.

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I don't remember…"

Yes, that is why. And sometimes it just hurts.

"But no matter. Honestly I am quite surprised that people like her are a rare occasion. I mean, all of the Harbingers have qualities that might make you fall in love with them."

"Do many live or get close enough to witness those?" Pierro raises a brow and you roll your eyes, poking his side.

"Fair point. That's probably why she chose to fall for Childe. Young, energetic and outgoing he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve."

"Tartaglia, huh?" Makes sense, if he thinks of it. "But a marriage? Already?"

"Of course not! All I said she sounded like that, the only way the wedding is happening is in her imagination!" You burst into giggles at your lover's silly assumption, not missing him huff and tighten a hold on your hand.

"You are quite talkative today."

"I haven't seen you for four months! I missed you! You can't seriously expect me to be silent just staring at you with wide lovesick eyes."

As the man watches you dig your elbow in his thigh to push yourself off of him to stand up with the most fake offended look on your face, he thinks that his life would've ended had you succumbed to the fall of Khaenri'ah. You are the one keeping the part of him alive, cradling his heart in your loving hands, passing your warmth and aligning his heartbeat with yours.

Pierro loves you with everything left in him, and he himself can't measure if it's a lot or a little. He doesn't remember what it's like being humanly soft - but you tell him he is doing enough. And he chooses to believe you.

When a shadow is cast upon him his attention is stolen back by the present. Even with his huge complexion he has to crane his neck a bit to look at you, standing at your full height and staring down at him.

"But you are right," white lashes flutter when a warm palm cups a scarred side of his face, but he doesn't let himself succumb to the peaceful feeling, not yet, "it's time to finish with the conversations for today. Let's move to the bedroom."

Pierro is convinced that your body was created for worship. So soft, skin smooth despite all your hardships, locks thick and heavy, cascading down your shoulders, lips plump and sweet, lower one seductively caught between pearly teeth as you lead him back to your room, holding his wrist with both of your hands.

You are bared to each other, and can sense the space filling with the heat of arousal your bodies radiate. Every step closer to the bed ignites a small fire in the pit of your stomach, fueled by anticipation. Just a couple of meters and he'll push you down and pin with his weight, caging you with no thoughts of letting go for a long while, oh, you can already feel it with every cell.

With an abrupt stop you tug him closer so his body practically bumps into yours, and, releasing his wrist, cup his face instead.

"You are so handsome," you smile, standing on your tiptoes to reach and plant a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "And I bet you'd look even better on top of me."

Tempting, but he has other plans for now.

Your eyes grow wider, but a sparkle of excitement is clear in them, when the tall, broad man slowly, not breaking eye contact, gets down on his knees. Well, he did say your body was created for worshipping, so it makes Pierro your most devoted follower.

His lips are a relief against your heated skin and you sharply exhale, sliding palms to the back of his head. The kiss lingers against your stomach, the only 'ugly' part of your divine body. The place where the curse decided to bloom, circling your waist akin a wide belt, variations of dark splotches creating a bizarre picture on the canva of the skin. Still it is lesser than his is, but the price you paid for it was a devastating one.

"You are beautiful," he whispers, pressing another kiss, and then another, and then some more, leading a path down your pelvis. "So, so beautiful…"

"So now we are exchanging compliments?" Your fingers play with the longer strands of hair at the back of his neck as you are looking down at him, not missing a move, not missing the way his eyelids slide close, when he is almost there.

"Rather speaking truth," is his short answer, before his hands start prying your thighs apart.

"One leg on my shoulder," the command sends shocks through your body and you immediately obey, almost too excitedly throwing your leg over his shoulder. A kiss to the inside of your thigh is your reward.

"Now stand still, and once I secure my arms, put the other one too."

The anticipated display of physical strength makes you lose your voice for a moment and all you can do is quickly nod.

"Words, my dear, I need your words."

"I-I understood."

"Good girl."

The praise makes you blush and is enough of a distraction from what he is in the process of. But not a minute later, both your legs are on his shoulders, their broadness giving you enough room to keep your thighs spread. The globes of your ass are literally resting in the crook of his elbows, arms reaching up your back and palms splaying against your shoulder blades, creating a perfect support to lean into.

Your breath hitches when his warm breath ghosts against your slicked folds and heart begins violently beating with your body realizing the sheer strength of its partner and future pleasure this man is going to provide. And oh Archons, centuries proved how masterful he is in both.

First shudder wrecks your body when his thick tongue traces along your slit, coating it with saliva and teasing you with flicks of the tip. You blissfully sigh, closing your eyes and enjoying the small shocks sent down your spine with every drag of his wet muscle, before he steals your breath away by dipping it inside.

Pierro hums, content with tasting you again after so long, and you are so pliant in his arms, putting an ultimate trust in him, that his own sex swells at the thought. The tip of his tongue catches against your clit, which makes you gasp and tighten your hold on the back of his head, involuntarily bucking hips forward. But he is not going to give you everything right away, no, he is going to show you his faith slowly, so you can understand every single notion behind his actions of praise and worship.

That is why he is drawing his face away, smirking at your needy whine. Attention shifts on your thighs - the last time he thoroughly marked them, so harshly in fact, so you would’ve still had them aching for days to remember the time spent together. Now your flesh is so pristine clean, that he hardly suppresses the urge to bite you right away. Instead he wills himself to plant kisses, sucking the skin occasionally to leave the blooming spots to darken later in beautiful hickies, undeniably hidden by your long and many layered garment. The hairs of his beard tickles you, contrasting with the slight tingles of pain, when he decides to lightly catch the skin between his teeth and urge you to pant and squirm in his hold.

"Stop teasing me…" You try to turn his head back into the direction you most need him in, but yelp, when he digs his nails in your back and bites on your other thigh. "Pierro!"

He only groans, flexing his shoulders to shift you in a more comfortable position, licking the stinging spot he's just abused.

Biting your lip, you have half a mind to reach a hand and touch yourself since he doesn't, but the man knows you well. He glares up at you, the dangerous glint in his eyes doing not much to scare you, but that's not his intention. It's a warning.

"Don't look at me like this," you huff, still taking one of your hands from behind his head, but reaching to cup your breast instead, "I can take a little bit of teasing, but not when you give me a taste and then ignore my aching."

The way you roll the erected bud between your fingers ignites fire in the pit of his stomach, leaving his cock half hard. Who is the one talking about teasing?

A soft cry leaves your lips, when he finally dives back in. Your lover sucks on your clit like there is no tomorrow, pressing the tip of his tongue against it hard. It twitches in his mouth from stimulation and your back arches, fingers grabbing and messing his hair from the intensity he's attacked you with.

Pretty moans and deep groans fill the room as he delves his tongue into the hole - rubbing against your walls deliciously. Slick gathers at his chin and slowly drips down, just a couple landing on his twitching length. You taste divine, in all the years of his life he's never drunk anything that would come close in comparison to your nectar. He grinds his face deeper into your pussy, beard tickling the insides of the thighs and nose nudging the swollen nub, as he savors you.

Your heels dig in his back, your own arches into his arms, and you feel so so heavenly. The palm pressing on his head is as secure as his own hold on you, not letting him back off this time, so unwilling to lose this building pressure in your belly, that'll soon explode, giving you the sweet release you've been yearning for.

Pierro relishes in your throaty whine when he drags the first orgasm out of you, gulping down whatever your spasming cunt has to offer. He feels your legs trembling, but he also knows that this tiny form of relief is nothing compared to how strongly he can actually make you cum on his fingers and cock, when you writhe and thrash under him, begging for no more, or when you are stuffed to the brink and unable to move, weakly clawing at his shoulders to stop. He wonders where tonight will lead you two to.

With an oof your back hits the bed, and his arms slide from under your body. Your hand drops to your side, as the one that was fondling with your chest rests on it, feeling your heart beating against the outstretched palm.

"See, was it so hard?" You smile at him, rising to his feet and wiping his glistening mouth and chin. "Maybe I should sit on your face more. It brings you to action faster."

Wordlessly Pierro grabs your waist and shifts you higher on the bed, climbing onto right after. He lets you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer, slotting your mouths together and sharing a kiss full of unspoken passion. He presses himself on you, pinching your hip and making you gasp, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth. You taste yourself and moan, sliding your own appendage against his, licking at it playfully.

Only you make him feel like this - hot, bothered, desperate, thoughts reigned by you, - everything the Jester is not, but your husband is. Only your touches and your embraces can comfort and relax him, only your kisses steal his breath away and cloud his mind, only your softness against his sturdiness is a perfect match, one that makes so much sense. Only with your heart his agrees to synchronize, sharing one beat, one melody. Only because of you he still knows what love is and that this is the feeling you two share.

When he breaks apart, chest rising and falling in sync with yours, he can't help but focus on your neck - another canva begging to be painted and who is he to decline? Your head falls back as his teeth graze down your throat. Legs, having a mind of their own, spread, and Pierro doesn't miss a chance to use it.

Your cunt is still sensitive when he plunges a long finger inside. Walls flutter and tighten around sudden intrusion, and the skillful thumb starts drawing slow circles on your clit.

"So tight…" He growls into your skin, leaving a tenth hickey on your neck and collarbones. "In four months you must've forgotten the shape of me…"

"I'll be quick to remember, mmm," you bite your lip, when he starts moving and curling his digit, all the while switching his attention to your full breasts. Your moans grow louder than before as he teases your pebbled nipples with his tongue, enveloping them in his mouth, gently sucking and releasing with a wet pop, blowing cool air on them right after only to feel you squeeze his finger.

Pierro is working your open with one and then two digits, not forgetting to play with the bundle of nerves, making the slick gush that soon even you could hear the squelching noise your pussy is making. What would've made you shy and embarrassed on your first couple of nights with him, now turns you on more than anything, prompting you to roll your hips to meet his own movements. Sometimes you feel his hard dick brush against your thigh and you gaze at him in silent question. He shakes his head, declining your help, and adds the third finger.

Now that's a really tight fit and he has a hard time dragging three fingers against your gummy, but resisting walls. You attempt to relax, but there is little you can do with how big everything about him is. Your body grows restless and fingers dig into the pillow above your head, back lifting off the mattress in a sensual arch and feet planting to bend the knees. Once or twice his real name drips like honey from your swollen lips and the man's heart skips a beat or two, your own name whispered between your ribs as kisses are pressed against the skin of your stomach.

When his mouth envelopes your clit again your moans get louder and thighs twitch to close around his head, but he uses his now free hand to push them away and pin you by the lower stomach down. Your fingers reach in his hair again, tugging on silver strands when he sucks particularly hard or curls his digits and brushes that delicious spot inside, that makes you see stars bright enough to outshine the ones in the sky.

Pierro loves when you grab onto him, doesn't matter where or how, he just loves having your hands on his body: holding, caressing, palming, squeezing, cupping… Every single touch makes him aware of your mood and desire to have him, which makes bringing you to mind-blowing orgasm even more satisfying. You inevitably scratch him, leaving a mark of your own.

He softly hisses as you dig your nails in the back of his neck, almost breaking skin to draw blood, and with a trembling scream cum. Pierro fingers you through your high, feeling your walls spasming and slick running down his hand and your thighs, soon to ruin the sheets, and watches you shudder, mouth hanging open and sweet noises creating a pretty melody. Could anyone witness a scene more divine? He can swear he is the only one.

You bite your lip when he plants a kiss to your clit and slowly pulls his fingers out, leaving you so empty, and more yearning than before.

"I want you," is your breathless demand, hands reaching for him. The man quickly grabs them, bringing closer to his mouth to kiss every single knuckle.

"Patience, my dear," is his quiet murmur, which makes you grimace.

"What is here to wait for? I've been waiting for so long, I have patience of a saint!" Literally. "Tonight is the only time I can forget about it, please don't take it away from me, I know you want me too."

And you are right. After having your taste and getting to feel the welcoming softness of your pussy he wants nothing more to sink in and mold you back to the shape of his cock.

Then why wouldn't he do just that? Taking wife's lovely advice never hurts.

He places a large hand above your head to steady himself, preventing him from crushing you with his burly mass. You hold your breath in anticipation, when the big mushroom tip parts your lips and presses against your opening. With a deep inhale Pierro grits his teeth and pushes inside, stomach immediately flexing when your walls swallow an inch. His gaze is on your face, making sure you are alright as he is slowly working his massive dick into your cunt. He knows you can take him, even if sometimes after big breaks your body screams that it can't, but the habit of checking on you just never died.

As he finally fully settles inside, he understands that his ability to move is to be cruelly tested. Your walls have an almost vice grip on his girth and the man above you groans as you tighten even more with sweet moans falling from your lips. Hair disheveled, hands fisting the shits beside your head, legs desperately trying to wrap around his wide waist but to no avail. Your struggle - to embrace his body, to take in his girth, - amuses him, but he has some pity for his dear wife, as his big scarred palms slide down your hips, leaving a trail of fire igniting sensations on your skin, and up to your knees, grasping under them and securing your legs where you want them, where he wants them. You cannot escape, you are his.

"If you don't relax, I won't be able to move."

"But it's-" you mewl when he experimentally rolls his hips.

"Don't tell me it's too much. You've taken it for centuries, don't tell me you can't take your husband's cock now," the man smirks at the way your eyes light up, and the hand with a bracelet on it reaches out to him. He lets himself a moment of vulnerability, leaning forward and into your palm, eyes sliding close and hips stilling, pelvis pressed impossibly close to yours. You feel the hairs of his beard grazing your skin, and softly run the thumb over his lips, usually drawn in a tight line. Breath chokes when he opens his mouth and bites the tip of your finger, gently catching it between his teeth. Your heart skips a beat and you tighten again, eliciting another groan from him and prompting the jaws get a little bit tighter too.

"Relax," sounds more like an angry order, but you know it's just because the man is slowly but surely losing control because of your body.

"What, can't you take your wife's pussy?" You cheekily shoot his words back at him and instantly regret it.

Because Pierro lets go of your poor thumb and launches forward, crushing you a little with his weight, and closes his mouth on your neck. Your whole face goes red from how lewdly you moan when teeth bite hard on that special place that makes you go absolutely wild once stimulated. You still haven't figured out the cause of these, and making you a subject of Dottore's research is the last thing Pierro would do in his life. You discovered it after the curse settled in your bodies and just decided to embrace this new feature, since it proved not to be causing any harm. Quite contrary, it brings you unimaginable pleasure.

Your whole body heats when he tightens his jaws a little more and you claw at his back. You have no idea what you want - him to let go or stay like this, but the unbearable need for him to move gnaws at your insides.

The man smirks when you arch into him, breasts pressing to his chest and pelvises flush against each other. He rolls his hips again, and this time his cock slides smoothly between your walls.

"Good job, love," you shudder and whimper when hot breath ghosts against your ear. Pierro murmurs quiet words of consolation, licking at the bruised place, where the dents of his teeth are already becoming pretty pronounced. He doesn't forget to thrust into you, setting a steady pace and trying some angles to find the perfect one to hit all your favorite spots.

It takes a bit of time, but he figures it out, grabbing you under one knee and pushing it forward to put you in a position that lets him reach deeper, tip kissing your cervix. From now on he grows relentless with only one thought in mind - to satiate you. He fills you over and over with his length, bulging veins caressing your walls, eliciting the sweetest noises your throat is capable of producing, each one sending shivers down his spine.

"More… Please, more…"

You look truly debauched under him, so different from the serene and gentle expression everyone is used to. Only he can see you like this and it feeds his ego, eyes glinting with lust and thrusts growing even more relentless, each bursting pleasure. Skin slaps against skin, sound mixing in you joined noises of bliss. Pierro is grunting above you, pace hard and deep, driving you closer for the third orgasm. He releases your knee, but throws that leg on his shoulder instead, leaning on you even more, so you practically scream when thick hairs on his abdomen start rubbing against your neglected clit.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, both palms firmly planted on both sides of your head as he practically pistons his dick in your cunt. You can only wrap your hands around his arms to steady yourself at least somehow, but it all comes crashing when the tight knot in your stomach snaps.

Your eyes grow wide in the mind-numbing orgasm and your head falls back. It’s almost embarrassing how fast you reached your high this time, your stamina failing you, absolutely destroyed by your husband’s actions. He is still moving inside, helping you to ride it out, snug between your walls, where he belongs.

However you both know it’s far from the end. Suddenly he picks his speed, changing deep and hard pace to a fast one, driving himself into you almost wildly, chasing his own high this time. Your grip onto him only gets stronger, nails biting in his skin as your pussy tightens every time he pushes in. Pierro’s name flows from your lips like a mantra and he lets out a growl-like grunt of your own name. The loud squelches that your recently milked cunt make are clouding his mind and making his reddened cockhead leak with arousal.

Your gaze is hazy from overwhelming pleasure, but even in such a state you could see his tense jawline, blown pupils, drops of sweat sliding down the side of his face and flaring nostrils. The sight makes your pussy contract especially hard, forcing the man to choke and halt in his movements. He feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, and knows, that you are hanging at the brink of yours as well.

“Cum with me,” you frantically nod at his request, heating up from the way he grunts, rutting into you, nudging your pulsing cervix as he fills you with his hot cum. It triggers you and with a loud moan of his name you let the orgasm wash over you again.

Your lover is gentle, grinding slowly, pushing out just a little and then all the way in to keep his load inside. He pants heavily, shoulders dropping and head lowering to press his forehead against your knee, eyes sliding close to catch a small break from the first long-awaited release he’s just experienced.

Moments like this - away from his duties, with you in his arms, filled with absolute bliss, - remind him happiness is possible, that he can rest in your embrace and be caressed by your love, be it in the form of emotional connection or the primal need to mate through sex. Sometimes one thought of you is enough to make his day brighter. Seeing each other is a blessing, since he doesn’t have time to hide in the shadows of the Cathedral to watch you speak to the Tsaritsa’s people, and you have no opportunity to slip out unnoticed and unquestioned to go and visit him. This is why every touch of your hands, every kiss, every thrust, every word exchanged in the privacy of his manor matters, and you try to go as long as your bodies are able to.

Only when you let go of his wrists and relax in his hold, does he stop his movements and carefully drop your leg back onto the bed. Then, ignoring your protests, he slowly slides out, mesmerized by your gaping hole, desperate to be stuffed again by his still hard cock, so wet with your juices it almost shines in the dim light of the bedroom.

You scowl at him for leaving you empty, but your gaze doesn't lose softness reserved for this man only. The amazed way his eyes are glued to you warms your heart and lessens the ache in your core from being ripped of the opportunity to cockwarm him.

"See something you like, my dear?" You flash him a knowing grin and run one of your hands sensually down your body. Star-shaped pupils dart at the movement and immediately sharpen, when two fingers reach and spread your folds. "Do you, perhaps, like the mess you made of me?"

"I do," he breathes out. "Always do."

With a sweet smile you reach to his shoulder, gently sliding an open palm over tense flesh. You are far from satisfied, desire igniting even brighter in you, so you use his moment of distraction, lure him in with your moves, only to gather your strength and roll your bodies, reversing the position. Galactic eyes widen slightly, when his back hits the mattress and your body hovers over his.

"My turn," you lunge forward and bite on his neck, pride stirring in your chest when your lover's self-control slips and he actually moans.

"You…" You hum at his low growl, lapping at the bitten place, knowing that the job to arise his hunger here is done.

"Yes?" With a cheeky grin you face him, closely watching his expression, loving the way his lips parted in silent pants.

"A wicked woman."

"Wicked? How rude and salacious calling a high priestess such names."

"Not her," a big scarred hand reaches forward and cups your cheek. So warm. "But the woman I married."

"Oh? So it's a good thing?" You lean happily in his hold, rubbing against wide palm. Pierro slowly lifts his upper body, steading yours on top of his with the hold on your hip, and takes the sitting position with you settled on his thighs. Hot breath brushes against your lips and you let your eyelids slide close.

"The best."

As he indulges you with a fervor-filled kiss, you reach between your bodies and graze just the tips of your fingers against his cock. Two sets of eyes fly open at the same time, but while he stares at you with yearning, your eyes crease in mischief. Simple caresses soon turn into your palm wrapping around his girth and slowly sliding up and down his semi-hard length. The bite you've granted him just moments ago does it work magnificently, turning him on the same way it was with you. Attempts to restrain his hips from jerking up to thrust into your hand don't go unnoticed by you and you tug on his cock roughly to elicit a groan out of him and bury your tongue in his mouth.

Palm which was resting on your cheek up to this moment abandons its place and drops to your other hip. Thumbs smooth over the night sky painted skin of your waist, soothingly rubbing. It makes you hum in content, caressing the cavern of his mouth languidly.

Palming and groping continues for a while, shift in pace obvious after the previous round (if you were to count by the times your lover came). His cock finally stands proudly against his toned stomach once again and you lift yourself with his help, lining the tip to your hole.

Pierro feels how his own semen drips down onto his length as you position your body the most comfortable way possible given the challenging stretch your thighs have to endure because of the wideness of his figure, including the hips. Pussy inevitably releases thick white substance, coating him and surely ruining the sheets even more.

Your walls show no resistance when he slides back home. How fascinating this part of your body is - molding to his shape quickly no matter how much time has passed since the last time. He knows he is big, he's made you drool and cry and mindless plenty of times in the past (he still can, but it takes more rounds and much rougher behavior), yet your pussy always takes him.

As if to prove the statement, you press a palm against your stomach and feel an outline of him, nestled deep inside your heat, a prominent bulge appearing whenever he shifts.

"I missed this…" You admit with a smile, rubbing up and down, absolutely enjoying the view of his greeted teeth, heavily rising and falling chest. “Mmm, I can feel you twitch inside…” Your teasing voice is so beautiful and the man can’t help it but lean forward and kiss the column of your throat.

“I missed this too…”

“Then let’s take the most we can from this night, shall we?”

As your lips meet in another kiss and hips start rocking again, Pierro silently agrees, secretly, just like every time, praying to no one in particular for the night to never be over.

taglist: @we-wo-we-wo, @secretartisanclodhairdo, @eiscoathanger

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #pierro x reader #pierro x fem!reader #jester x reader #pierro genshin #genshin impact smut #moonlit pearl stories #my longest fic so far

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bestworstcase · 4 months

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You've said before that RWBY's writing can be non-formulaic other than the 3 Act structure that it follows. What is it then that makes RWBY's story and writing so different (especially from more typical pop culture writing) in that regard?

to be completely honest i think a significant factor is that rwby is written by people who care about telling a story and have a very clear vision of what story they want to tell that they are resolutely sticking to no matter what. rwby is pretty remarkable in its sheer indifference to 1. what the fandom wants and 2. mass market appeal. paraphrasing but isn't one of the writers on record saying that they keep an eye on the fandom and if they see a lot of people not getting something they try to make it more obvious in the text? <- i think about this all the time.

bc like. before V9 i tried really hard to manage my expectations because i didn't feel sure, at all, that i wasn't just reading around a bad case of protagonist-centered morality—like i could count on one hand the number of people besides me whose writing on salem aligned with my interpretation and what i thought was going to happen thematically in V9 was so DRASTICALLY different than what the fandom largely seemed to expect and when you're that far off the common thinking then it's kind of like, is it really everyone else who's wrong or is it just you?

and then it turned out i was right. i was in fact so right that i underestimated how hard V9 would go on delivering what was set up in the first eight volumes.

which is fucking mind-boggling to imagine from the writers' perspective. the fucking guts it take to have a finger on the pulse of this fandom and not budge an inch on what this story is about!

<- being formulaic is safe. it is easy. it's palatable. for all that everyone loves to complain about unoriginality, there are a lot of people who just want to be entertained by something familiar. rwby doesn't give a damn whether you like it or not, it's going to keep being the story that it is, you know?

so they're very willing to take creative risks. that's really the heart of it. but there are a few specific like, technical aspects of the narrative that make rwby what it is:

#1, the narrative status quo gets turned on its head not just once, but repeatedly. the fall of beacon, the lost fable, the fall of atlas, the ever after. and by my count there are at least two more key changes before the story ends. it's not all that common for stories to upend the narrative status quo once, let alone multiple times, but rwby is a story about change and the structure of the narrative reflects that. (this also synergizes quite well with the three-act structure.)

#2, the characters are wrong about all kinds of things in all kinds of ways, constantly. some of them lie. some of them make very confident, very wrong assumptions. all of them are working with incomplete information. the ancient immortal character who's spent millions of years alone is cryptic and awkward. half the cast belongs to the keeping secrets cult. the goddamned avatar of knowledge is an unreliable narrator because ruby asked specifically for ozpin's side of the story. the narrative blithely informs the audience in V5 that "truth is hard to come by" is an important enough theme to say it out loud and then throws the lost fable down like a gauntlet. good luck.

#3, related to the above, in most stories the heroic characters know (or learn) and believe the story's themes and the villainous characters reject the theme and embody the anti-themes. in rwby, theme/anti-theme is decoupled from narrative role: ozpin is on the heroic side, but he represents many of the story's anti-themes (fear, distrust, lack of faith in humanity, blind obedience of authority); salem is the main villain and notional big bad, but she believes the theme—so much so that the fandom regularly quotes her soliloquy to express the core theme: "even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change," and "there will be no victory in strength." this opens the door to a lot of really interesting character complexity and is critical for making "salem wins by negotiation" narratively possible at all.

#4, the story takes fairytales seriously. what sets rwby apart from a lot of "deconstructed fairytale" stories is that the point of taking the fairytale logic apart is not to be clever or edgy or grimdark or hyperrealist or cynical about it; the conceit is a tragic, broken fairytale that keeps going forever until it's mended because fairytales are not real but they are true. rwby rejects the moral and emotional simplicity of fairytales in order to weave a fairytale about lifelike characters rather than archetypes. that's a lot rarer than darker and edgier retellings or irreverent parodies by a wide margin.

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myangelhaven · 6 months

Text

This is my recommendations of BANGCHAN fics! It will be updated once in a while for new stories I have read. Hopefully the links work (lemme know if it doesnt)

Credits to the authors!! All informations written are taken from the authors' post and has not been modified. Reminder that some fics are NOT for minors, so please read the key and avoid 18+ contents.

HAPPY READING!!

KEY

[❀]: fluff [𖤓]: angst [☄]: sad [☾]:smut [⟡]:smau [✮]: my favs

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮----------BANGCHAN-----------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

ONESHOTS

ten things bang chan says when he thinks you’re asleep by @soobnny [❀]

Surprise shower by @ch4nb4ng [☾][cheating?] w/ Changbin as bf NEW

Teasing Chan was fun, especially with Changbin being your boyfriend, but you become surprised when you feel Chan creeping up on you in the shower instead

Myth by @astraystayyh [❀]

Skimming across the edge of being friends and something more with Chan is a dangerous game. Even more so when you're both sharing the same bed.

tmt (too much tank tops) by @skeezsbbygirl [❀]

A love song and a confession by @lotus-dly [❀][𖤓][f2l]

Confessions of a dirty mind by @minisugakoobies [❀][☾]

The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

Title track: I'll always want you by @lotus-dly [𖤓][fwb]

7:57am by @lotus-dly [suggestive]

Love me, even in my darkest moments by @lotus-dly [𖤓][hurt/comfort]

Let me let you go by @ppiri-bahng [𖤓][unrequited][hopeful ending]

You find out your best friend has a girlfriend and you haven’t been the same since. Angst, unrequited, hopeful ending

You're how I pray by @inniejeonginnie [❀][suggestive] 1k

chan lies about his love life to get a reaction from you, but to him you're not only a crush, but his entire heart, faith and adoration

Not For Sale by @thevampywolf [❀] 1.1k

Our last dance by @iridescentxstars [❀][𖤓][☄][werewolfau][immortalau][death] 1.3k

chris lived a full life, a life better than he thought he would but everything must come to an end for those who are not immortal

Can't control myself by @cosmic-railwayxo [𖤓][unrequited love] 1.3k

Slow down by @joyfulhopelox [☾] 1.6k

When We See it by @changbeanie [𖤓][❀][✮] 1.6k

Six years. Six years have gone by since the day you left. Six years later, Chan opens your present and relives all the memories made with you.

Because it's love by @imagine-a-life-like-this [fwb][suggestive] 2.7k

it was supposed to be a no strings attached arrangement, but unfortunately for her, she fell in love with him, knowing that he had someone in his heart. but what if that person was her all along?

Corruption with chan by @tasteleeknow [❀][𖤓][☾][mafiaau] 3.2k NEW

I really fucking like you by @thevampywolf [❀][𖤓][idolau] 3.4k

Zip by @cb97percent [❀][☾][✮][fwb] 3.4k NEW

You and Chris' understanding of what "friends with benefits" entails is different than what is commonly accepted

Stay the night by @sulfurcosmos [❀][f2l] 3.4k NEW

being awfully nervous when they're having a sleepover because they just worry their thoughts will be wandering when they're sharing a bed

Take me back by @loveliestfelix [❀][𖤓][✮] 3.7k

Dream you by @charmercharm3r [❀][𖤓][☾] 4k

He cheated on you— in your dreams, then took kiss it better too literally.

Sweet by @tasteleeknow [❀][☾][brother's bff2l] 4.1k

you��re his best friend’s little sister. he’s obsessed with you, and you him. he has very good self control—until he’s forced to share a tent with you. forced proximity with corruption kink.

Koala by @tasteleeknow [❀][𖤓][✮][roomates to lovers] 4.3k

your roommate is a very physically affectionate person, you’re not. after brushing him off over and over it takes him going on a successful date for you to realise maybe the thought of him touching someone else like he did you was worse than anything. clashing love languages, jealousy and mutual pining.

Better or Worse by @jl-micasea-fics [❀][𖤓][☾][☄] 4.7k

Married life is tough, and you’re approaching your limit. Can you rekindle the flames you once had with your distant husband? Or is it already too late?

Hatefuck with Chan by @ballelino [☾][𖤓][✮] 4.9k

your love-hate relationship with chan turns more into the former than the latter

overtime by @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf [❀][𖤓][☾][bossau] 5.5k NEW

You work as bang chan's personal assistant. with a comeback on the horizon, he tells you needs you to pull some serious overtime.

Ghostface by @bruh-changbin [𖤓][☾][✮] 6.2k

Love me, love me not by @scxrlettwxtches [❀][𖤓] 6.5k

when chan rejected you, you never expected that it would become the catalyst for your love story, rather than the end of it. but, life and a few welcome matchmakers have a way of playing with fate.

Connected by @j-0ne25 [❀][𖤓][☾][mutual pining][bffs to lovers] 6.8k

What happens when your best friend asks you to review his nudes? You help him, of course, while being busy ignoring how the pictures make your heart race, how they are intended for someone else and how much you are actually in love with him

From grace by @changbeanie [❀][𖤓][☄][demonau] 7.1k

He was a fallen, a follower of Lucifer, a creature of deception. All that aside, what if the darkness was not as one-dimensional as you perceived it to be?

Touch by @fizzydrink698 [☾][werewolf au][frenemies to lovers] 7.2k

Then, he finally notices the first-aid kit in your hand, and he changes.

The corners of his lips turn up, twisting into a smirk. He raises his chin, one eyebrow arching at the sight of you. It’s a smug, quietly dangerous look from Chan that you’ve never seen before. One that sets your nerves on edge, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“Why?” Chan asks, and his hand drifts up to undo his top button. “Are you here to play nurse?”

Unexpectedly Fallen by @iridescentxstars [❀][☾] 7.8k

sometimes you don't expect to find comfort in someone but sometimes life has another thing in store for you

Hate the club by @charmercharm3r [𖤓][☾][exes] 7.8k

Seeing your ex at the club is one thing, letting him take you home after he broke your heart is another.

Overdue book by @ch4nb4ng [❀][☾][librarian] 7.8k

You liked to read a couple of naughty books here and there. But when one librarian gives you his books recommendation, and you lose it, you must be punished

Waiting for us by @j-0ne25 [❀][☾][✮][mutual pining] 7.9k

A ruined Friday night—after randomly getting ghosted by the guy you went on a date with—gets a little more bearable with your closest friends around you. For some reason, Chan is a little more clingy today and you blame it on the tension that’s been between the both of you for some time now, when you start flirting with his roommate instead to get a reaction out of your best friend.

Bubblegum by @cb97percent [𖤓][☾][✮][situationship][3some] w/ LeeKnow 8.3k NEW

Minho constantly being in love with himself in the group chat frustrates the shit out of you, and you desperately want to teach him a lesson. Meanwhile, Chris has other plans in mind.

Promise this by @changbeanie [❀][𖤓][arrangedmarriage] 8.7k

Can I learn to love you?

Marital duties by @ch4nb4ng [❀][☾][✮][established relationship][marriedau] 9.4k NEW

Having a job that meant traveling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husband's

Really F**king Like You by @jl-micasea-fics [𖤓][☾][strangers to lovers] 10.7k

Tinder matched and subsequently ghosted by the hot guy that lives across from you, you’re mostly resigned to singleton life, dejected and somewhat fed up. That is, until a screwed up delivery turns things around, in the most unexpected of ways.

Falling rain by @staytheword [❀][𖤓][☾][☄][f2l][postbreakup] 11.1k

You fell out of love. It happens. All you need is time to piece yourself back together. But as you and your friends meet for a movie night, you don’t expect your ex to be there - yet he is, and it looks like he’s doing much better than you do. Luckily, your friends are there for you - especially Chan.

Perilous Desires by @iridescentxstars [𖤓][☾][✮][slowburn][asylumau][psycho][dark themes][don't read if uncomfortable] 11.8k

getting made to work the night shift, you're assigned to the ward the dealt with the more... demented of the patients. the ones who are a danger to society. except for him - or so you think

Parasitic by @luvknow [❀][✮][e2l] 11.8k

your roommate is going abroad for the semester and now you’re forced to share your apartment with bang chan, who you basically lived with for the past semester except he didn’t pay rent, he ate all of your food, and crashed on your couch after a long night out. you were going to do everything in your power to avoid him until your roommate comes back. that doesn’t work out so well.

Between the Lines by @straylightdream [𖤓][☾][✮][arranged marriage] 12.5k

After being used a nothing more then a pawn to gain the upper hand on Chan. They’re left in a strained marriage and only one way out.

The chance of love by @maatryoshkaa [❀][𖤓][slowburn][e2l][tutorau] 13.8k

Red pen, empty classrooms, and an overheard phone call: The one where you’re determined to find one flaw about your seemingly picture-perfect class president, and he’s determined to make sure you pass the class—no matter how hard you’re trying to fail.

Priceless by @chaoticminhos [❀][𖤓][e2l] 14.3k

priceless; adjective; so precious that its value cannot be determined

Amethyst by @pucchinpurinracha [❀][☾][✮][camreader] 15.4k

you reigned queen in your carefully constructed world - a double life hidden from your friend and roommate, chan. but the universe had its way of throwing surprising curveballs at you and in a series of hilarious events, the secrets behind amethyst and arpeggio were laid bare.

Outta my Head by @straylightdream [☾][𖤓][✮][slowburn] 17k

He’s a lives next door and is someone who sleeps around often. You’re a nurse who is struggling to get enough sleep because of his night time activities

Enemies-to-lovers by @taelme [✮][slowburn] 21k

request: Hey! Can i request and enemies to lovers slow burn with bang chan where they dont like each other but theres undeniable chemistry

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄more to come!⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

☆--------Chan's masterlist || skz masterlist---------☆

#skz masterlist #bangchan recs #skz recs #bangchan x reader

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