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#scratches the divinity itch pretty well
rosegasly · 9 months
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Maroon
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✧ summary: your period has left you with an itch only your boyfriend can scratch.
alter; an excuse for me to write shameless dirty smut.
✧ pairing: pierre gasly x female reader.
✧ warnings: spit play, creampie, unprotected sex, fingering, vaginal sex, menstrual sex, dirty talk, blood, filthy sex. it's pretty much exactly what the summary makes you think it is.
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Fucking hell.
  It’s that time of the month, the one that gives you the most problematic of lower back pains, an appetite of a dumpster diving racoon and the insatiable need to be fucked.
  “Pierre, I-” The words stay caught, breath and syllables all cluttering together into the spaces of your throat as you desperately try not to rut against your boyfriend’s face.
  “Chérie, you smell absolutely divine,” the way he presses his nose against your clothed crotch and fucking inhales has your toes curling, heels digging forcefully into his back. 
  “Please please please,” you beg, unsure what you’re asking for but there’s a twisting in your gut as heat pools between your legs and you feel yourself growing wetter. 
  “Please what, mon amour,” you glare between your legs, a futile attempt at trying to coax him, but he just cocks a brow, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he gazes back, mischief swimming in those beautiful eyes and you want to smack him, kiss him, throttle him and ride him all in the same instant. 
  There’s a long ringed finger, idly caressing your folds from over the cloth of your panties and you could cry from the edge of it all. It doesn’t take too long, easy as it is, to abandon your dignity and beg when Pierre holds your gaze and presses the flat of his tongue against your clothed clit and drags it. 
  “Lick me, Eat me out, Let me ride your face.” 
  At your admission, the cerulean of his eyes grows darker as his gaze rakes your skin, leaving a fire trail without touching it. He grins, smug and cocksure. It’s dripping with arrogance so sweet it’s saccharine, and you would find it disgusting on anyone else, but Pierre wears it well. He holds your attention and slowly drags his tongue against his glistening, full, pink bottom lip in a move so deliberately hot it has you begging all over again, hands fisting in his hair as you tug. 
  Something in him cracks in response to your pleas, or maybe it’s the lone frustrated, borderline hormonal tear running down your face as you clench around nothing and writhe to find some friction and solace. 
  The cool of his ringed finger touches the moist edges of your folds as he tugs your panties off in one clean motion, and then he grabs your inner thighs, spreading you out until the fold of your thighs burns. Pierre kisses your parted folds softly, feather-like and barely there and it’s a gesture too soft for him, but before you can say something, he parts your folds and spits. 
  Your eyes clench shut as the excessive wetness drips down from your clit to your hole, cool against the warmth of your pussy and you tense around nothing. It wasn’t needed. Your arousal mixed in with blood has you plenty wet but you know Pierre. He enjoys marking you, always staking a claim in any way he can and you have no doubt the kinky fucker is delighted at the sight of your hole fluttering close under his spit.  
  The tip of his tongue circles your clit, almost there but not quiet and you are squirming, trying to catch half breaths and god, you love him. Love the way he makes you feel. 
Pierre coats your clit in his saliva before his lips encircle it and suck. You moan, deep and loud and bite your bottom lip to anchor yourself while he teases your pulsing clit. His kisses are gentle, soft sucking motions that almost feel like a pleasurable tickle coming intermittently between rougher, more dominant laps of his tongue. The change in pace and pressure over your clit has you keening, hips grinding against Pierre’s face as you unabashedly chase your pleasure. 
  It takes you a second, dripping wet as you are and lost in the chase. It takes a moment for you to register as Pierre easily slides two fingers inside you and curls.  
  “Fuck,” you groan. 
  The fingers are curving and rubbing right where you need them to, where the pressure leaves your toes twisting and your body taut. Whimpering, you protest when you feel them come out right after and you are on the verge of pleading again when you see his fingers. Glistening and coated ruby red with your blood and arousal. 
You blush, eyeing the sticky mess and you hide behind your hands, embarrassed. 
  “Pierreee”, the whine falls on deaf ears. He finds you peeking and before you can hide again, his lips are parted, tongue out and in slow, deliberate motions, he licks the fingers clean, moaning like he’s sucking on his favourite candy and not your goddamn blood. It’s still bright outside, the sun not setting, when Pierre saw you restless and twitchy and decided you needed to be railed. It’s obscene how he drags his fingers through your folds while dim rays of the sun still illuminate your skin and licks them clean again. Smirks and slides his fingers over his lip, the soft pink staining cherry red, and it’s filthy. Dirty. Beyond fucking hot. 
  “You’re a menace.” you quip, tugging him close by the chain around his neck. It makes you a little delirious tasting yourself on him, the metallic tang somehow sweet coming from his tongue and you’d be mortified if it was someone else, but Pierre has always been able to make you comfortable. How he treasures every inch of your skin that he grazes leaves you flattered, yearning more.   
  You hold him there, head tucked in the valley of your breasts when you ask him to fuck you, mouth the words on his lips, and tow his waist closer by your calves. Pierre groans, arresting your hands decent to his crotch and gripping them firmly above your head with one hand. 
  Holding the root of his cock he buries himself into you in one smooth motion and your breath hitches as you clench, finally assuaged at having been filled. He starts slow but soon you are bucking, pleading for more and it’s all the confirmation Pierre needs before he is pounding into you. The bed rattles under your combined weight but you can’t care for the frame when he’s fucking you like that. Tucking your thighs to your chest to adjust the angle before he’s pushing into you again. Repeatedly hitting the spot that has you mewling, clenching tighter around him as your nails rake a burning path down his back, drenched in sweat, hot and humid under the summer noon. From under him, you see the familiar sky blue of his eyes grow darker into something more delicious, greedy.
  It’s too much, the pleasure, the warm muggy touch of his exhales on your skin, the way he whispers dirty encouragements in your ear, coating it wet with his tongue after. 
  “Come for me cherie, come around my cock and let me fill you up full. Wouldn’t it be nice? Walking around with my cum in you? A tampon plugging it up? You would like that wouldn’t you?” 
  He’s kissing you through the chase, tongue licking the back of your teeth and it tastes sweet. Despite all his words, the roughness that he enjoys in bed, Pierre tastes like the sweetest confectionery and you are frantic, rocking as you come, clenching tighter around him. 
  “Fuck, cherie. So good for me, so wet, so tight. Milking me so well,” 
  The rough pad of his thumb brushes the soft skin under your eye, gently wiping the stray tears. 
  “You did so good, amour.” Pierre kisses you, less tongue and more fond, before he rests his forehead against yours and with a few quick thrusts, he’s coming too, warmth seeping into you as you lock your legs around his waist and hold him through the high. 
  His tanned skin glistens bronze beneath the stray filtered beams of the sun when he rolls away to get the bath running, and you admire the view and sigh, content and blissed out. 
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✧ a/n: hello! if u v come here from my main blog, welcome to my side blog! f1 was taking over my entire personality & tumblr wall so we now have a dedicated space for it. might move all my older stuff here eventually might not idk yet. but! i had fun writing this. i hope u enjoyed it. really cracked the ice with this one. ik u don't believe me now but I write a lot more and better than just filthy dirty smut. so follow! if u d like to read more. & leave me some love and an ask if u feel generous 🥰
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sidthedollface2 · 1 month
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A Crown fit for a God
Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader, Eris x Fem Reader
Summary: Azriel sees you tearfully reading and asks Elain for help with a gift.
Warnings: Pining, talks of war, mostly fluff, Elain (it's fine don't worry) hurt/comfort/no comfort.
Word count: 1.6k
A/N: This belongs with a mini series I’m currently working on but it can be read as a stand alone. I’m not a writer so keep that in mind if you find mistakes. Lol.
Azriel watched from afar as you tenderly stroked the soft petals of a daisy. Your eyes closed as you deeply inhaled the floral scent. A soft smile spread across your face, enjoying the fragrance. Azriels heart beat wildly in his chest at the sight.
You sat on a bench next to a shallow pond, small fish and turtles leisurely swimming about. The sun was high in the sky, rays of light breaking through the trees, casting you in a divine glow. From your small satchel you pulled out your beloved book. One of young romance and finding true love, definitely not one of Nestas collection. The novel was about two friends sent to fight a war, similar to the war you fought in. The male had been caught by the enemy, with no way to tell his partner, she assumed he had passed leaving her to fight not only the war alone but live a life without her mate.
Azriel's heart clenched as you softly cried into the book, wiping the tears that rolled down your hot cheeks. He envisioned himself sitting beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucked in close to his side. Peppering kisses to your temple, soothing your broken heart kiss by kiss. His daydream was interrupted as Rhys requested him mind to mind.
That afternoon Azriel sat next to Elain in her garden, thinking of you and how all these flowers would be jealous of not only your beauty but of your heart as well. He wished to bring you expensive and thoughtful things, place them at your feet like the God that you were, if only to see that shy smile once again.
He shouldn't have asked, but his mouth moved faster than his brain, “Elain, do you think you can show me how to make a flower crown?” he internally winced. Although he ended things with her the moment he saw you, they still remained acquaintances. He couldn’t bear pursuing you while he was bedding her. It wasn’t fair to drag her along when deep down he knew she wasn't what he truly desired. She was pretty and attractive by fae standards but you were incomparable. An exquisite work of art crafted by the first Gods.
“Azriel, is this for…..” she tried to say your name but it hurt too much. Jealousy ran through her, itching to deny him this simple request.
“Yes, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me –”
“Sit,” she relented, patting the space next to her. “What flowers does she like?”
Azriel took a moment to think, scratching at his chin in concentration.
“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know what flower she likes.” He slumped, already feeling useless in his attempt at a sweet gesture.
“That's ok, flowers also have meaning. What do you wish to convey to her?”
“Love.”
Azriel said with a quickness Elaine had never seen before.
“You love her.” Elain stated, smiling at Azriel with pride.
“More than I ever thought possible.” Azriel confirmed with a soft sigh as he cut the stem of a vibrant red rose. “But I don’t want to tell her just yet. Oh, she does enjoy the smell of daisies,” he remembered, picking the white daisies within his reach.
“Then daisies will do.”
Once Azriel gathered enough daisies he proceeded to twist them one by one just as Elain instructed. Holding two daisies, Azriel loops one over the stem of the other making a knot. One by one he loops more daisies to the main stem until it creates a crown large enough to fit on top of your pretty head. Once the main crown is done, he gathers green lace fern and baby's breath intertwining them between the daisies to make the crown appear vibrant and bountiful.
With a friendly hug he thanks Elain for her help and stalks off with a bounce in his step, eager to present his gift to you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Azriel finds you sitting on the wooden bench once again. It had been days since he saw you, Rhys having sent him on a mission before he had a chance to give you the crown. He makes himself known by clearing his throat, “May I join you?” He asks, glancing at the spot next to you, his hands held behind his back.
“Oh! Yes of course.” You glance up at him, noticing he’s not in his usual leathers but a navy collared shirt . It fits him perfectly. Snug around the diameter of his muscular arms and toned pecs. His strong thighs stretch the fabric of his sleek pants, as he takes the seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours.
“I’m sorry to disrupt your reading, but I brought something you might need.”
Azriel then pulled out a blue box with a silver bow from a pocket of shadow, and handed it to you. Surprised at this unexpected gift, you remove the ribbon and within the box folded neatly was a lace handkerchief.
“If it’s real, it will never be over.” Azriel jerked his chin toward your book and your eyes widened.
“You’ve read it?” You beamed, clutching your beloved book to your chest. Holding it near your heart that wanted to desperately find someone. Someone willing to go into battle for the chance to be loved. A chance to find their equal in a world of undeserving immortals.
Azriel smiled and you melted at the sight, he was the light in the dark, a beacon lighting your way and you a moth to the flame.
“Yes, I’ve read it. It gets quite emotional towards the end.”
Azriel looked down with disappointment in his eyes, “I had got you something else, but I’m afraid it wilted before I was able to give it to you.”
You placed your hand on top of his. Azriel didn't flinch but relished in the warmth of your touch. “I’d still like to see it, if that's alright with you?”
Azriel nodded and his shadows carried the fragile crown, gently placing it in your lap. Azriel cheeks flushed, witnessing the cool shadows brushing against the softness of your cheek. For the first time ever he was jealous of them, he wanted to be the one to reach out and touch you, be gentle and tender towards you.
He wasn't known for soft things but for you he’d learn. For you he’d make flower crowns and read romantic books. He’d sit next to you and listen as the wind rustled through the trees, breathing in the citrus scent of your hair and the delicate perfume on your skin.
“I love it.” You gasp, gently thumbing at the browned petals, each touch bringing the flower back to its natural unwithered state. Your touch had the power to bring life to what once was. Flowers, once withered and decayed, are brought back to health. Animals that had been injured or hunted; a single touch healed and brought them back to vitality. Azriel smiled brightly at the display of your magic, “of course you’d be able to fix broken things. Perhaps,” he stalled, looking at his hands, “perhaps you’d be able to fix me too?”
You followed his line of sight, understanding the meaning behind his self-deprecation. Slowly you held his hands in yours, grasping them tightly hoping he’d understand the importance of your words. “Azriel, there's nothing to fix because you're not broken. All your flaws, all your imperfections, it’s what I adore about you.”
Azriels heart could explode, you wound him with your sweet words and gentle touches.
He hopes you’ll want all his flaws, all his imperfections and all his mistakes. He’s had many that's true, regrets that he can't undo, a darkness that can swallow him whole. But despite all his wrongdoings he can only hope you’ll choose him.
With nothing to hold him back slowly he leans forward, a scarred palm cups your soft face and he almost pulls back. Glancing between your supple lips and radiant eyes, he licks his lips closing the distance between–
“ I hope I'm not disrupting.”
Startled, you quickly pull away coming to a stand, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Azriel clenches his jaw, as he stands towering over the Autumn heir in a show of dominance.
Stepping around the winged illyrian, Eris sideyes the boxed gift and flower crown with a look of annoyance and distaste. Before Eris can snatch it, Azriel carefully picks it up and steps in front of you, placing the crown softly on your head. You're breathtaking. He attentively adjusts the strands of hair that frame your face, rubbing your silky waves between his fingers, so much softer than he imagined. Soon, Azriel thinks. He’ll be able to keep you, If you choose to be his of course.
Reminding you of his presence Eris breaks the tension, “It’s time to go love.”
“Will they find eachother again? Once the war is over?” you ask, pleading that true love can withstand even the most violent of battles.
Please tell me love finds a way.
Before Azriel can answer, Eris swiftly pulls you away, wrapping his arm tightly around your waist, squeezing your hip, where he branded your body in a bargain. He kisses the corner of your mouth, looking over his shoulder with a smirk at a seething Azriel.
Azriels deep sultry voice carries in the wind, “in the middle of the chaos on the battlefield, he finds her. And she finally tells him –”
Your hopeful eyes are the last thing he sees as Eris winnows you away, leaving Azriel with three little words whispered in the air. A confession Azriel will one day be brave enough to purr between heated kisses and embraced bodies.
I love you.
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thesiltverses · 6 months
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Hi! I’m obsessed with the silt verses, from the atmosphere and incredibly interesting world you’ve created to the amazing characters. Apologies if this has already been asked before, but is there any media that inspired you in creating this world and story? And do you (or anyone following this blog) have any recommendations for other media that might scratch a the itch of ‘help I desperately need more of tsv in my life’?
Hello and thank you so much for listening!
I honestly don't know if it'll help you scratch the itch because it's all pretty disparate, but some of the main inspirations were probably C.S. Lewis' Til We Have Faces, True Detective Season 1, Gyo by Junji Ito, Ovid's Metamorphoses and classical transformation myth more generally, and maybe a bit of Russell Hoban's Riddley Walker as well (in the changing bleakness of the landscape and in the focus on interpretation of distorted myths to find our truths).
I also think the casual ambient cruelty of the setting, a few of the names, and the caricatured-and-exaggerated-Americana might have their roots in some of Garth Ennis' comics (as a hardbitten and weary believer whose dwindling faith becomes fury against the gods right after divine intervention horrifyingly causes the plot to kick in, Carpenter is in many ways effectively just Jesse from Preacher), but there's just as much stuff in those works I detest, so it's not exactly a fullthroated recommendation overall.
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ddarker-dreams · 2 years
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Mirror’s Ripples. Raiden Shogun x F Reader [COMM]
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Note: the timing of this commission is perfect . happy pride month folks ! 🏳️‍🌈 Word count: 3.5k.
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i.
She’s different from the first time you met her.
This was your initial thought.
It struck you as odd that this little, likely insignificant detail took your mind captive, spreading its roots deep enough to remain ever entrenched. There’s no use dwelling on it, you would tell yourself. Analyzing the intricacies of an Archon should be the least of your priorities. They are eminent and divine, composed of elements not belonging to this world, boasting esoteric knowledge sealed behind lips that know to speak the truth is not always the best option. If it’s an option at all.
She’s different, yes, but this is inevitable. Clocks pause for no one, the gods included. Still, it troubles you. An itch that cannot be scratched. And oh, how long you long to scratch it.
The one sitting in front of you boasts the Electro Archon’s appearance. She can enact the pinnacle of the Raiden Shogun’s skill — the Musou no Hitotachi — surely, no other being could mimic this if they tried. A bake-danuki could shift their body to resemble another, yet this would be an impossible feat for the cunning tricksters. Your ears tell you that her voice, though the intonations on certain words fall flatter than you remember, is the same too.
Is it her mannerisms, then? They are as concise as her blade work. Every movement exudes grace from start to finish. Perfectly calculated and executed, like a well-oiled machine.
She must be something beyond divine. You’ll have to make peace with the fact that the specifics, whatever that may be, will likely never be known to you.
“—This concludes my proposal.”
The Raiden Shogun sits still following this proclamation. Her back is squared, eyes unwavering, folded hands sitting pretty on her lap. If not for the breeze causing her long, violet hair to sway in the wind, you may have mistaken her for a statue.
Instead of immediately responding, as her insistent staring would encourage anyone else to do, you leisurely sip at your tea. The taste blooms on your tongue in delicate succession, shifting from herbal to sweet. The tea leaves that this was brewed with would cost a fortune even to the most affluent person. Finally, you place the yunomi down, unsurprised to see the Raiden Shogun hasn’t faltered in the slightest.
This gives you an important tidbit of information that should serve you well.
In some cases, when negotiating a paramount deal, drawing out the seconds between their proposal and your potential acceptance or denial could net you gains. If their nerves fail them, they might make hasty concessions to keep you on board. More trained individuals might express mild irritation with their body language at you playing such a clear ploy. It always helps to know what type of person you’re dealing with.
As for her…
She makes no attempts to renegotiate or call you out on your silence.
She waits and waits, as if someone whispered in her ear to remain frozen in time while you pretend to mull things over.
What a silly thought, you chide yourself. The Raiden Shogun answers to no one other than herself.
“I accept,” you finally relent, despite having arrived at an answer ages ago. “Our union would be a great benefit to us both. The people of Watatsumi and Inazuma’s mainland are far more interconnected than they’d ever care to admit… be it because of pride or ignorance. One cannot live without the other.”
She avoids the potential verbal pitfalls with elegance.
“The straightest path to eternity are those built by peace.”
This comment elicits the first flicker of familiarity inside you. Eternity this, eternity that; the Electro Archon was nothing short of obsessed with the elusive concept. It’s always been your opinion that she would sooner succeed in grabbing fog than find a way to obtain the eternity she’s never stopped pursuing.
Your lips curl into a smile at the thought, while hers remain straight as a line.
“Does something amuse you, [First]?” She presses, equipping intimidation for the first time in this meeting. A slap to the face would be more subtle. This is added to your mental profile of her as well.
You take another sip. “Many things, your Eternal Excellency.”
“Is this discussion relating to the future for both our people one of them?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what? Do not misunderstand my words. While peace might be the ideal path, there are other roads to take.”
Interesting, you muse. The closest you could get to a flare in emotion from her is when her ideals are challenged, no matter how insignificant said challenge is. It would be an exaggeration to describe this as an outburst. An outburst would require the opposing party to be righteously offended, and the more you scrutinize her actions beneath a magnifying glass, the less convinced you feel dubbing this incident as such.
She doesn’t raise her voice, clench her jaw, glower, or give any signs typically associated with offense. Curious, how painfully curious, like a kabuki actor reciting an entire script from memory upon a stage without emoting once. The dissonance she emits is so subtle you doubt few could pick up on it.
“I meant no offense, your Eternal Excellency.”
For this, she cannot call you a liar, because every word rings true.
“Then allow me to no longer take up your valuable time,” she stands up from behind the ornate chabudai, rising to her full height. You do the same in a far more languid manner. “I take it you’re confident that you’ll be able to talk the aggressors on Yashiori Island down?”
“Since my letters haven’t been convincing enough, I’ll pay them a personal visit. They’ll be gone before the sun makes another lap around the sky.”
“I have your word?”
“You have my word, your Eternal Excellency.”
This must be satisfactory enough, as she doesn’t press for details on how exactly you intend to carry this goal out. For once, you can appreciate the almost detached air she carries herself with, people digging their nose into your business is always a thorn in your side. The only promises you make are those you can keep.
She heads for the grand doors notoriously found inside Tenshukaku’s walls.
Before she can reach it, you speak up, a sudden gust of wind billowing in her direction as if wanting to carry your words inside them.
“If we are to be wed…” you trail off, and in the seconds that follow, her attention is yours again. “Must I always call you ‘your Eternal Excellency’? It’s quite the mouthful.”
Her response comes swift enough to rival the speed in which lightning strikes.
“Then allow yourself ample time to practice — I’m sure you’ll be needing to say it more from now on.”
ii.
Your wife is strange.
While you’ve always enjoyed a good puzzle, there’s nothing more frustrating than when you feel you’re on the precipice of a major discovery, only to realize there are more pieces scattered about. The corridors to understanding her — which would, in turn, better serve you in your own endeavors — are twisted and impossible to navigate. Impossible. How you loathe the word. In a world where cities can exist under the sea and citadels float in the sky, nothing should be impossible. In your arrogance, this was the conclusion you prematurely came to.
Worst of all, who can you lament to?
Certainly not your meek if not well-meaning handmaidens. They would simply nod their head to anything and everything you said, lest they risk upsetting a figure so revered in Watatsumi. Then there is the current Divine Priestess who would undoubtedly chew you out for complaining over such a nonissue. Those Sangonomiya Priestess’ always started out so sweet, then as they gained decades of experience under their belt, became far less affable to your whims.
Hence why you’ve come into the den of an unexpected if not fickle ally — Yae Miko.
“I’ve never seen her eat, drink, or sleep,” you relay to your captive audience. “All she does is work or think about work. Any attempt I make to know her on a more personal level is met with resistance or outright apathy.”
“That might not be such a bad idea on her part. If you had it your way, she’d be serving Watatsumi’s goals alone and forget her people ever existed in the first place,” Yae Miko hums. While it’s not the most pleasant thing to hear, you can’t say she doesn’t have a point. It’s inevitable that despite being joined in marriage before the gods, you both have your own agendas that take precedence above everything else.
Yae Miko doesn’t stop there. “While I never had the pleasure of meeting him directly, the god you served was much the same, am I correct? Of Orobashi’s many tales, indulgence never seemed to be a prevalent theme.”
This question would’ve been a sizable mountain to overcome had you not already posed it to yourself in the past.
“We live in different times, Miko,” you give her the same unsatisfactory conclusion you came to. “Back then, it made sense for gods to behave that way. For every threat they bested, two more would take its place.”
She smiles behind her hand. “Following that logic, would it not make sense for her to view you as a threat born from an opponent she bested? It’s difficult to relax around that, I’d wager.”
Yae Miko is renowned for her ability to rile up others. A few centuries ago, this comment may have done just that, but you’re secure in your position. It would be a dishonor on your fallen god’s legacy to pounce at every provocation. Besides, you’ve seen what Yae Miko is like when she’s actively trying to tear an enemy down. This is meant to make you reflect on areas you want to pretend don’t exist.
That doesn’t mean you need to roll over and surrender, however. Doing this so soon would bore Yae Miko and remove you from her good graces. No, if you ever hope to better understand the challenges before you, you must do better than that. Be better than that. Hence why you make your response every bit as sly as you can.
“I suppose I have no choice but to wait until her blade turns to me, then.”
She looks plenty amused. A good sign, you figure. Boring her is by far the worst thing you could do.
Her ears twitch before she reveals her response.
“Hm… The Raiden Shogun’s sword does like you, just not in that way.”
You can’t remember the last time you were at a loss for words, momentary as the affliction may be. Yae Miko is hinting at something — you know it. The Guuji does not speak if the words have no purpose in being said. That’s why you seek out her company, there are little jewels of wisdom hidden beneath the veneer of a typical conversation. She doesn’t tell you important details outright. If she had to, she wouldn’t think you worthy of knowing them.
That leaves a question that has you burning hotter than any magma bubbling inside a volcano.
What jewels has Yae Miko seen fit to reveal today?
iii.
Your wife may be a ruler, but first and foremost, she is a warrior.
You know this better than most. While the denizens of the Inazuma archipelago often whisper legends of the impossible to defend against move, the Musou no Hitotachi, your knowledge is far more intimate. The Raiden Shogun had the ability to slice your revered god — and the island he was on — clean in two. Her strength is unrivaled. Her prowess is acknowledged by practitioners across Teyvat.
That’s why many might view you a poor fool for asking to spar against her. Not while she was wielding her naginata, either; you insisted she uses her fabled tachi. The Musou Isshin.
While it’s not a duel to the death, it’d be a disservice to yourself to not take the session seriously. She could hit you with the shaft of her naginata to minimize damage, no such options exist when her tachi is in use. It thrums and radiates raw energy unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Being on the receiving end of its attacks is harrowing enough that you almost consider calling it a day and giving up.
Every strike you manage to deflect has your arms begging for reprieve. She’s fast, relentless, a step ahead of you at every turn.
Wiping the sweat from your brow, you focus all your attention on the Musou Isshin within her grasp. What is it that you’re missing? The kitsune hinted at the sword’s importance, you’re just missing the bigger picture.
The Raiden Shogun ceases her onslaught of attacks. She’s giving you a moment to recollect yourself, you realize. This mock battle is rapidly reaching its conclusion. You have no idea of knowing if she’ll accept any other offers you make in the future. Efficiency is her primary function; training against a person below her skill level is a waste of time. Her accepting your invitation the first time was already a miracle.
Before you can continue your ruminations, your legs give out.
“Do you yield?” The Raiden Shogun demands.
Damn that kitsune for getting me into this, you grimace. This doesn’t matter. You hate to admit it, but the Divine Priestess’ who always chastise you are right. Your union led to peace between Watasumi and the rest of Inazuma when war looked to be stirring on the horizon. Embargos were lifted, families were reunited, and money flowed in abundance as people had renewed vigor for trade.
You did everything you set out to accomplish. So why is it that you’re left wanting more?
And what is it you want, anyway? Yae Miko tried to pry the answer from you, but you held it tight to your chest, refusing her a glimpse.
Following the slaying of Orobashi, you could never decide upon what you wanted. The being you followed up from the abyssal depths died, and with him, any direction you once had.
The dreams that rose from his bones were never meant to come true.
Regardless, you long for them all the same.
“I will not yield,” you force yourself to get back up, almost stumbling again in the process. “I won’t… not until I know you. The real you.”
There’s a strange fluctuation originating from her tachi. You barely pay it any heed, not in your borderline delirious state, your normally pristine appearance disheveled from head to toe. Undulating back and forth like the ocean, you give more of yourself than you intended. Giving pieces of yourself meant you would never get them back. That’s why you held onto them for so long.
“You’re not my god, I don’t know if you ever will be.”
You shouldn’t be saying this — you really shouldn’t be saying this. The buildup of energy surrounding her serves to tell you that. It isn’t a friendly spar or game anymore. What you’re playing with is dangerous, electric, and honed to potentially kill should you not tread lightly.
“Why should I care about eternity if I don’t even know why it matters to you? How can our goals ever align when I don’t know what yours truly are?”
The Raiden Shogun is imbuing electro into her next attack. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, the sensation haunting and peaceful all the same. You verbally disrespected her precious, untouchable eternity. What sort of punishment would this incursion earn you? The possibilities are endless, but they ultimately arrive at a single conclusion: divine punishment. Marital status must not be taken into consideration at an offense so unforgivable.
It would be suitable to have your life ended in the same fashion Orobashi’s was, you decide. An honor above all other honors.
Unflinchingly, she raises her blade—
Then the scenery around her shifts.
It’s as if in an instant, you were transported somewhere else, far away from reality. A land familiar enough for you to comprehend while simultaneously being disquieting. This is an unnatural realm where the sky appears as dark crimson dripping down from above, where torii gates pile over each other like fallen warriors along a battlefield, and a rather familiar figure floats in meditation at the center of it all. You blink in awe. Your senses scramble to make sense of the stimuli being presented to them, searching for conclusions that regular logic would never allow them to reach.
“Hm… The Raiden Shogun’s sword does like you, just not in that way.”
Yae Miko is every bit as sly as the rumors make her out to be. She all but handed you the key to your dilemma, gift wrapped and all.
“I’m inside the Musou Isshin, aren’t I?” You wonder aloud.
The figure in the middle, who has the exact likeness of the Raiden Shogun, nods.
“Why now?” You query, sensing she has no intention to harm you.
“The Shogun was about to kill you.”
She speaks as if the Raiden Shogun is an entity separate from herself, you note. There are thousands of questions on your tongue. Questions that, if you gave it more consideration, mattered more in the grand scheme of things than what you decided to voice. They fade away like pesky bugs buzzing by your ear so you can ask what’s most important to you.
“And you didn’t want that?”
“I did not,” her voice might be soft, but it carries far. “I’ll need to make modifications to her… she misinterpreted an initial order of mine as it relates to preserving eternity. Difference of opinion is, in this case, not a threat to eternity.”
This is the Electro Archon you remember speaking with many centuries ago. Your initial gut instinct was right — who (or what) you spoke to when negotiating your marriage was a different being altogether. Her true self must be embedded within this blade. You’ve heard of stories where people seal their consciousness into items, though you never expected an all powerful Archon to make that leap.
It would explain a lot. Aside from one matter.
You force your body to stand despite its protests. While making the trek, she stands, her purple eyes the most expressive you’ve ever seen them. When you speak, you’re but a few inches away from her.
“Why have I not seen you sooner?” You furrow your eyebrows together. She obviously had the power to invite you into this realm if she so chose. “Am I not worthy?”
“That…”
She chews at her bottom lip and averts her eyes. Then, as if realizing this did you a disservice, she forces herself to hold your unwavering gaze.
“That isn’t it,” she promises. “You would think less of me should you know the reason.”
Her sheer sincerity throws you off guard. Why would it matter what you think about her? She is the god here, one of the seven, a divine creation who you scarcely had the right to behold. The masses worship her. Even the people of your island offer her a certain level of reverence afforded to no one else.
“I doubt that’s the case, your Eternal Excellency.”
“What my wife asks, who am I to deny?” She muses. Then, a sigh. “I was afraid. The god you dedicated your existence to fell by my hand. You had every reason to hate me. Selfishly, I didn’t want your hate.”
You hardly hear her over your heart pounding in your chest.
How long has it been since you experienced this adoration for another? Stood in the presence of something greater than yourself, that beckoned you to come with them on a journey historians would scribe thousands of years from now?
Anything she were to ask of you, you would feel inclined to give.
“What is it you want then, your Eternal Excellency?”
For a moment too brief, her hand brushes over yours, testing the foreign sensation. You give her the time she needs to sort through her thoughts. She reaches for your hand again — the one you hold your sword in, you realize — taking it within hers gently. Warmth creeps up onto your face and scarlet dusts across hers. You’ve always thought your wife to be beautiful, if not a touch uncanny from how apathetic she could be. Her true self is a treasure that surpasses monetary value, soars past your wildest hopes and dreams.
When a god gazes at you as if you were the divine, it’s impossible for anything else to matter.
“To be your partner,” she arrives at her answer.
Your partner. Equals. Two independent forces coming together so that their goals might coalesce.
It doesn’t take you long to decide for yourself.
“Nothing… nothing would please me more.”
Indeed, there was no denying the favor bestowed upon you by the Raiden Shogun’s sword. It was rivaled only by your budding admiration for the occupant lying inside the blade.
“And [First]?”
“Hm?”
She smiles.
“Please, call me Ei.”
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eldritch-spouse · 1 year
Note
Characters I wanna stuff in my mouth and nom nom :D
1. Morell & Shags, deadly pretty mushrooms yum yum, deep fried in batter to make tempura mushrooms
2. Belo, I feel like he would taste like chicken or any fancy bird, roasted like the Christmas turkey
3. Livius, laffy taffy man, chew him raw and pull as I bite to see how long he stretches
4. Magus, Glauk & Ivana, ssaaashimi
5. Krulu, Mother, I wonder what gods taste like
6. Zizz, I feel like he has the best texture, like cotton candy or marshmallows, just soft and pillowy and lovely to chew
7. Obie, Mervin, Cero, any way, any size, any serving, I just really like them and want them to be in me in more ways than one
(violent urge anon)p.s. I really loved the new fic you made! Scratches that itch in brain that goes aaaaAAaaAaaa
[Thank yeee, <;7]
TW: Gore; Cannibalism.
1. Make sure you fry Morell well, don't wanna get poisoned now, do you? Also, wring the ink out of Shags' cap before you do anything or you really will die of ink poisoning...;
2. Oof, just thinking about all that work plucking his wings and getting rid of the hair. Maybe remove the wings while he's alive, make him watch it;
3. With no bones on his arms and legs, you really can twist him into some elegant shapes. If you want to make any of these losers into a pretty, elegant plate- Then I'd suggest him first;
4. Magus is a squid monster, you can make aaall sorts of meals, I recommend the use of teriyaki. Glauk probably tastes very weird, he's a blend of species, I'm not even sure he'd be a good meal. They say shark meat has a hint of sweetness, maybe Ivani would make a good shark steak?;
5. I'm fairly certain eating a god would forever break your mind into complete hysteria. Your ears would ring like whistling shrieks and your eyeballs would sizzle to ash. You die with a smile on your bared teeth, consumed by madness;
6. I think Zizz would just melt on your mouth. Whether you're picturing marshmallow or the most tender of steaks, it's something so divine you almost don't want to swallow it. You'll cry as you eat, because you know your meal will be over eventually.
7. Mervin tastes like sour grapes because he's an asshole to the core. Cero is probably so bitter you'll spit him out, or die with a piece of him lodged in your throat. Obie is likely a very fulfilling, enriching meal!
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greypetrel · 7 months
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22 for aisling for au prompts :3
At first I thought about her as a rogue. Then I thought that she would have been funny as a Warrior with a two-handed giant sword, Fenris style. Only, she’s SMOL. If you look at her from behind, she’s a huge sword with legs.
I died from my own laughter and ascended to the next world at the idea, so of course I went with that.
Jokes aside, I think so many things would change for her. She'd be much elfier, and much surer of herself and... Let's say she won't stop yelling left and right that oh no the Herald thing? It's a lie, I'm not, please stop. So, something very very VERY early on!
Tis the prompt list
Discombobulate
22. The MC as a different class (mage/warrior/rogue)
The crowd cheered around them when the proposition got expressed aloud, and Aisling could observe how the Commander frowned hard at the dwarf.
“What? It would be good for morale, Curly, you heard them!”
“It’s highly unproper, and we don’t have time to lose with-”
She was in Haven since a week, alone and suspected of having murdered the Divine through a magical explosion she had no idea how could she have casted, since she wasn’t a mage… And with some magical scar on her hand that glowed in the dark and itched like crazy. Not enough time to fully adapt to her new environment, but plenty to understand that shemlen were a little too fussy with the concept of propriety and personal space… and now, apparently, something that she wasn’t exactly eager to discover whether it was concern over her gender, her race or her stature. Because when she had gone to the smith, Harrit, to discuss about her equipment for the upcoming mission in the Hinterlands, she had seen her request for her weapon of choice refused. After insisting that she knew what she was asking, she was useless with a bow and arrows thank you very much, and slightly less so with daggers as they somehow all assumed she would have been, and still it hadn’t been enough to have the sword she wanted, she had marched straight to the Commander to perorate her request and know what weird thing she had to do to have a goddamn sword in this place. Sadly for her, the Commander had taken a good look at her, up and down, and asked if she was sure about what she was asking.
It had been excuse enough, apparently, for the dwarf -Varric- to barge right in and propose that Cullen proved her in the training ground.
After three councils she was -somehow- asked to participate in, it had been pretty clear that the Commander didn’t exactly like her. Everything she tried to say, he was there to counter it, point out how unorthodox her method were, how little knowledge she had over the real situation of the Inquisition. He was right on how little of the Inquisition and the shemlen world she knew, of course, she listened to her mother enough to had a vague idea of what it meant leading a group of people, but this Inquisition was hardly comparable to their clan. Still, it tasted a little like he was competing… And Aisling was all for bringing a competition in a field that was more favourable. She was there against her will, and she wasn’t staying just to be the emotional punching ball of the first Templar around. If he wanted to compete, that was fine with her: he wasn’t the first human to underestimate her just because she was short, he wouldn’t have been the last.
If this was a way to have less humans to underestimate her for her physical appearance, and at the same time scratch an itch and maybe peg the Commander down a little, who was she to refuse?
“Afraid of losing, Commander?” She chirped amiably, with a smile in the man’s direction.
He turned, and this time he frowned at her as well, as someone in the crowd ooh-ed at her provocation. Good.
“Hardly so. But it’s past my duties to provide you with some physical exercise. I have recruits to train, and we can’t waste any more resources for you.”
Another ooh from the crowd.
“Oh, it’s hardly a waste of time and resources. A trained Templar, the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and now Commander of the forces of the mighty Inquisition against a lonely wood female elf that barely reaches your collarbone? If you want to flatter me, you could invite me to dinner, first.”
“I have much better things to do.” He squinted at her, irritated, in the same expression he had for the greenest recruits that spoke back to his instructions.
“I am a big girl, I can take it.” She smiled wider, keeping her voice kind and stepping forward, steps light and airy. “Come on, Commander, it will only take five minutes. It would do some good for all the recruits to see a duel between two warriors, don’t you think?”
“She’s right, Curly.” The dwarf -Varric- insisted, as he turned to the elf and winked mischievously at her. “It will be a good example, or are you too old to take a pretty elf?”
Aisling smiled at her newly found ally for the afternoon, and turned back to Cullen, nodding to her side invitingly and waiting for his answer. He was still there, arms crossed and glaring. From what she saw of him in the former days, when she had been training alone against a dummy, that was the expression that either preceded him admitting defeat, or him sending the unfortunate recruit to clean the latrines.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” She kept on smiling at him. “Unless you want me to.” She hoped she wasn’t destined to clean the latrines, after all.
After a full, tense minute, and a side glance to someone in the crowd Aisling couldn’t distinguish, the Commander exhaled loudly, grunting a “Fine.” That sent the crowd cheering around them.
“One match alone, no rebounds, and I don’t want to hear a complaint on the weapons you’re assigned for training ever again.” He grumbled, gesturing to his field assistant -a stout woman in a Templar armour Aisling didn’t remember the name of- to get inside the tend he usually stood in front of.
“Fine for me. And if I win?” She asked, innocently enough as she observed the crowd making more space for them, opening up in a wide circle around them.
“What?”
“If you win, I will accept any weapon you and the lovely Seeker deem me reliable enough to wield without emitting a syllable. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, Mythal be my witness, cross my heart.” She crossed her heart with her right index, left palm up in the air most solemnly as she stepped back a couple of steps in the snow. “What if I win?”
Cullen rolled his eyes at her. “Name your wish.”
“If I win, you’ll have to say in Council, in front of Sister Woodpecker-”
“Sister Nightingale.”
“Whatever. In front of Leliana, Seeker Pentaghast and Ambassador Montilyet, that I am right and the wisest, prettiest elf in the compound.”
“Are we really-”
“We are. And you will tell everyone you hear calling me so, that I am not the Herald of Andraste.”
The crowd fell silent at that. Cullen finally stopped glaring at her like she was giving him a headache, and stared at her not understanding where this came from. She didn’t explain herself any further, just contracted her eyebrows up and waited. Miss Templar -Elyse? Elizabeth? Lizzy?- returned back with two training poles, which she gave to her first.
“Thank you.” She nodded to her, with a smile. “So?” She prodded the Commander, slipping one foot behind her and getting in position, the stick held loosely in one hand and the other bent behind her back. She contracted her toes, feeling the terrain under them. Beaten earth, compact from being stepped upon so many times and soaked with snow and humidity. Not the best terrain ever, but it would hopefully offer something to grip upon for her bare feet. A small advantage that her adversary, if he took the bet, wouldn’t have.
He took some more time to answer, clearly studying her with half-lidded eyes. In the end, tho, he sighed and shifted in position as well, nodding to her without taking his eyes away from her.
“Fine.” He finally said, bending his knees twice and swinging the pole in front of him a couple of time, to get used to its weight.
Before he could start, Varric spoke again, announcing loudly the epic duel between Commander Rutherford and the gem of Clan Lavellan -Aisling was grateful that he caught on the Herald of Andraste thing. Camaraderie between prisoners, she guessed. Not real friendship, but it wasn’t a bad starting point if they needed to fight together. He was still speaking, but she didn’t listen to what he had to say: studying her adversary was more important, right now. Way more important, if she wanted to win this thing. And she wanted to.
Being kept there was bad enough, but if the mark on her hand really was the key to repair the big jagged vortex that opened up the sky, she needed to stay. Her mother taught her as such. She may not have inherited her talent with magic and her capability as a somniari, but she was her mother’s daughter: proud and capable and not turning her back to her duty. She had been taught well. And she had been taught well enough as to not blindly accept a bunch of humans to use her as their religious figurehead to convince the Chantry to approve of their organization. She could agree with what they were doing, but she was a Dalish warrior, she bore the Vallaslin of Mythal, she was the firstborn of the Keeper, sister of her First, and she would not bend her knee to a foreign faith. Absolutely no, and she needed at least one other voice to perorate aloud she wasn’t sent by their Maker.
She needed a victory, and she needed this victory.
So, she stood in position, careful to hold her staff in a way she saw the other soldiers around using and was unfamiliar to her, and studied her adversary. Bigger than her, taller with a full head and heavy with muscle. Armoured, but since she never once saw him without it, he was used to its weight, and he would have not been sensible to direct hits. He was a little taller than the average, she noticed, meaning he was used to enemies smaller than him. She needed all the advantage she could get.
“Ladies first.” He nodded to her, a sharp look in his eyes that hinted that he was studying her as well.
“What a gentleman.” She smiled again.
She lounged forward, swinging the bottom of the staff in an upward circle. He parried easily enough, with a clack of wood. She stepped back and tried again, aiming at his shin with the bottom of the pole, and as soon as he parried, at his opposite shoulder with the up.
Parry, parry, movements fluid and easy, automatic.
She circled around him, retreating a couple of steps, and he circled back to keep facing her. Some murmuring around the crowd, but she paid them no mind. She had to learn about her adversary to win this, and she needed to learn it quick.
She snapped forward again, keeping her movement basic enough not to pose a real challenge and not to be too “foreign” to put him on guard. Not really. He was a Templar, he shouldn’t be used to fight against Dalish, and that was, hopefully, the path to her victory. She just needed to have an educated guess on how much similar in fighting he was to the Templars she fought back home, in the Marches. None of them had known what to do with her, but she had been at her full advantage, in the woods she trained in, with her sword in her hands, not a light training stick that weighted nothing at all and the battlefield severely limited by a cheering crowd of soldiers.
They kept it on, she attacking by the book, probing him, and Cullen answering hit for hit, lightly and effortlessly, as he was playing. He was, in a sense, not engaging if she didn’t, not lunging forward. Trying to study her or tire her out, most likely. Too much at ease, she decided, to be holding back. He wasn’t attacking on purpose, and she could play with it.
She frowned and pouted at him, too visible not to be noticed, and saw him raise one eyebrow at her. She said nothing and sped up the rhythm, quickening her steps and her attacks, but never straining away from basics. Left and right, up and down step back and swing in a wide circle, let him duck down and- ah.
His knees were a little stiff, he ducked at the very last minute. She could work with it.
But before… She kept it on, huffing more and more often as they swung around each other, the clacks of wood becoming a syncopated rhythm that filled the open circle. She didn’t hold back too much, not really, and hit him with strength. He could be left thinking she couldn’t endure this too much. After all, she was small and lithe for human standards, and most of them didn’t know how to distinguish a buff elf from a thin one, if her asking for a greatsword caused so much fuss. Different muscular structure, maybe, or simple ignorance. In any case, it played in her favour.
After ten minutes, then, she grunted aloud and did a too wide movement, getting it wrong mostly on purpose. She wasn’t used to such a wide grip, after all: it mattered little. Cullen took the opening -the bait- and slipped his staff between hers and her body, quickly inclining it so he positively hooked her. To his advantage, he was quicker than her reflexes could let go of the staff: he levered her and used her own weapon to unbalance her, making her roll and fall back in the ground on her back.
He was a little slower to come and point his pole to her throat: she expected to be unbalanced, the mistake was done on purpose. She batted the stick away with her own weapon, with one hand, and swung the other end to hit his shin with the other hand.
The crowd cheered, as Cullen stepped back quickly, hissing something through his breath, and she quickly rolled on her side and on her feet, crouching down low and wielding the staff on her back, close to her arm.
A more familiar grip, and the low position could give her some advantage more. Namely, that it was something not doable if you wear heavy, metal armour.
“Get up.” He invited her, breath a little ragged.
“I’m right where I want to be, thank you.” She quipped back, with a polite nod. “Your old joints can’t reach down here, perhaps?”
He huffed in annoyance, but weirdly enough, the next hit was stronger and less precise than before. As if-
She swung around, ducking under his hit and his arm with a quick cartwheel. Wielding her weapon -considerably lighter than what she was used to- with just one hand, let the other free to assist in the maneuver, and as she rolled back to position, she could turn on herself and swing the pole right at his back with both hands, hardly.
It clanged against the metal of his cuirass, but he stepped forward and turned back quickly enough, coming back to face her. He was good, she had to admit. Better than she thought at first and better than she faced before leaving the clan. And yet, there was something stiff in his movement, his reactions came all some seconds behind, as if he was tired. An opening. She just needed to-
The duel became more serious, with both of them, now, putting more effort into it, surer about how their adversary moved. Aisling kept ducking and running around him, taking advantage of being smaller, lighter and more agile, as Cullen put more strength into his hits. She wasn’t in any armour, and he indeed just needed one good hit, and knew which points to aim at. He just had to catch her, first, which she put all her efforts to prevent.
The crowd cheered aloud when the Commander stepped sideways, anticipating the elf’s next movement, and lounged at her. A good hit, but still a little slower, and not taking advantage of the bare feet. Aisling snapped her staff behind her, planting the bottom in the soft ground. It didn’t go much deeper, the dirt was too cold and half-frozen for it, but it was enough to allow her to bend her back backward and slip right under the lunge, holding up with her toes gripping the terrain and sustaining her weight on the training pole.
She smiled, looking at the hit that would have caught her, 10 cm up her nose: it started as a tease, but she was indeed having fun with it. It had been a while since she last sparred with such a capable adversary, and she relied in it. Alas, she had something she really wanted at stake, and he was right in saying the recruits needed their Commander to train them more than she needed a good sparring partner.
As he retreated the stick, with a grunt of annoyance, she rolled back up and quickly engaged him back again. She moved her pole up and then down, with strength enough that he was forced to step back as he parried.
She put some more strength into her hits, and he was taken aback, at first. It lasted little, but it put them in a rhythm enough, with him now stepping backward and her attacking and going forward.
As she parried one hit, she moved her weight on her left foot and kicked his knee in the side, hard, with the right. She grunted in pain – the boot was studded with metal, she hadn’t thought about it, but it was enough to have him stagger minutely.
Enough for her to, ignoring the dull pain on the bridge of her foot, try the same move he did at the start: hook her pole with his and move it sideway, to lever herself up and-
“You’re not heavy enough to flip me over.” He remarked, annoyed.
“I’m not trying to flip you over.”
She informed him, as she pushed on the centre of his weapon, sent him stepping back and put enough distance between them to jump right on the cross of their weapons, her full weight and the force of the jump leaning heavily on him.
He was left surprised, and with two choices: let go of his weapon and make her fall, but with now both weapons at her disposal, or grab on and try to counter. He staggered back and didn’t let go, and the force of her jump and her weight was, apparently, enough to sent him fall back.
The crowd cheered aloud, as Aisling fell right on the Commander’s chest, sitting down heavily to pin him to the ground, slipping her pole free and lean it on his throat. She ignored the dull pain on her knees and shins, where she landed.
“Dead.” She announced, with a satisfied grin.
The crowd kept cheering around them, and she caught her breath, not moving from where she was
“You’re dead as well.” He rebuked, looking up at her.
“What?”
Something pressed in her back, right where her kidney was, and when she turned around, she could see he was pointing a dagger right there. A fatal wound, if it was a real fight: she would have sliced his throat, but he would have stabbed her in her back, in a point that would have had her bleeding to her death if no healer was around.
She blinked twice, surprised.
“You never said anything about second weapons.” He pointed out when she turned to look at him, some glint in his eyes that on a person with less of a stick up their ass could also have been mistaken for amusement.
“I didn’t peg you for one who fights dirty, Commander.” She admitted, still smiling at him.
“Your bad, 10 years in Kirkwall have that effect.”
“Heard it’s a bit of a shithole, indeed.”
He snorted, not fully laughing. They both lowered their weapons, and when Aisling finally got back to her feet, she offered him a hand to haul him up. They smiled and nodded at each other, begrudgingly recognizing some mutual respect as Varric called it a draw and the crowd kept congratulating.
“So.” Cullen told her, after some minutes of batting dirt away from their clothes. “No Herald of Andraste for you, I see?”
“Thank you.” She blinked twice, surprised he got the hint. “And I’ll stop complaining about training weapons.”
It wasn’t that big of a concession, and she could step forward to him. Her mother would have frowned at her, and at her giving anything to a human. Surely her mother would have marched right off that village, and she will not be happy of her being kept there. Her mother wasn’t there, tho, and she’s never been the fondest elf towards human.
Her mother wasn’t there, tho. Her mother was never shown respect as Aisling was, with loud pats on her shoulders by recruits and soldiers she didn’t know the name of, congratulating on her. Her mother wasn’t there, when the Commander bid the smith to provide Lady Lavellan -not the Herald!- of whatever weapon she requested.
“Let her fall under the weight of a greatsword, if she so chooses.” He commented, begrudgingly still but holding a hint more of respect than he had before.
She smiled at him and nodded. “Ready for a rebound whenever you’d like.”
Maybe her time amongst humans wouldn’t have been so bad as she had thought at first.
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templaeris · 2 years
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Did you hear? [ KALSTEN ‘KAL’ ULFHART ] is in town. A [ HUMAN ], I hear that they’re a [ TEMPLAR LIEUTENANT ], rather impressive considering they’re [ TWENTY-EIGHT ] years old. Their friends say that they’re pretty [ DEPENDABLE ], but I’ve heard rumors that they’re also [ UNYIELDING ]. It might just be me, but they remind me of [ A TORN FAMILY CREST, SCRATCHES ACROSS A LEATHER PLATE, OATHS MUTTERED UNDER THE OAK ]. I wonder what side they’ll choose in the upcoming conflict.
—  𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂
full name: kalsten ulfhart, fourth of his name
nicknames: kal, kalion (for his siblings-in-arms in the order)
age: 28
species: human
gender / pronouns: cis man ,  he  /  him
orientation: bisexual
occcupation: lieutenant in the templar order, itching for that promotion
region of origin: frosthold, a bastion on the outreaches protecting wintervale
current place: traveling the land with his regiment
—  𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴
eye colour: light brown
hair colour: tawny
build: hale
height: 6′3″
piercings: all removed, as befits a servant of the people
tattoos: four, one to mark each major victory of their battalion
distinctive features: battle scars, warrior’s braid
face claim: leo suter
—  𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙲
excuse me????
— 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂
 alaric (da:o), cousland (da:o), red hawke (da2), cullen (da:i), kaladin (storrmlight archives), lamorak (arthurian legends), bjorn ironside (vikings), robb stark (asoiaf), jon connington (pre-asoiaf), lan (wheel of time)   
—  𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻𝚂
full backstory tbd pending player discussions but !!! the brunt of things is:
raised in a very family, duty, honour environment, with strict precepts about what the world should look like and how men should behave in it under the law of their Gods
obviously magic was a no go because the Ulfharts are just Boring™ and repressed like that, so he learned to suspect anything out of the ordinary and committed himself to rooting it out - not from fear or even genuine hatred, but as a sort of mercy killing in the hope that it will return erethide to the way it was before
this whole ‘holy soldier’ upbringing routine really left both his worldview and his self-perception narrow as all fucks
seriously, this man has had a grand total of ( 3 ) experiences and they’re all related to direct combat
he’s good at fighting tho
like, seriously good at fighting 
when he was young he though the could coast by on battle prowess alone, what with frosthold being a military enclave and all, but he soon realised he couldn’t hack it at politics and stomach the compromises being an heir entailed (like, talking to elves? reaching agreements with mages? no thank you)
his family practically did him the good favour of ushering him off to the templars before he could cause a civil scandal
he’s been there for the past ? 8 years almost ? in that time, he’s been forced to actually develop other branches of his few precious braincells, like administrative skills (hard running a company) and subtlety. basically, all the commanding traits required to bring his men under heel when necessary
he sees the order as his true family, as he could never really connect with his parents (the ulfharts haven’t communicated an emotion since divinity still walked the earth)
don’t ask him about his younger brother
seriously, don’t
probably dislikes rich people and greater nobles, whom he sees as overly fond of a little thing called power abuse, and is generally a champion of the people provided they’re wiling to follow the Gods and renounce magic (yikes bro) 
did i say repressed???? well i’m saying it again
—  𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚃 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚂
something to shake his confidence in the order!!!!! (BIG VIBES)
a mage saving his life/saving someone close to him/unlikely allies for a greater cause
a catalyst incident that forces him to be the saviour, not in that vague templar way but actually risking his life on his own for a purpose he may not even be certain of
family reunion!!!!
frosthold childhood friends reunion!!!!!
being forced to go back to frosthold to defend something/someone!
strange darkling tidings?????? whispers on the horizon?? the order asking him to go in search for answers to a scholar that might know more about this danger?
battle companions who have seen the best and worst in one another and decide to stand together because of it, not despite :’)))) (i’m weak for 1 trope and 1 trope only okay)
“there was only one bed”
he wouldn’t exactly nosedive headfirst into a torrid affair because he’s just not that Hot Boy Summer type, but I would love to have something/someone that might endanger his dedication to the Order
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railroad-migraine · 2 years
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Hi, love!
I'm in a wonky mood with my writing/Tumblr, so I'm asking a few pages the same question.
How did you get started? (My page is still a lot of my own stuff because I'm not super comfortable putting HCs up for just general terror. Despite the fact that I know the fandom is nice!)
Hiya darling! I chose (a) fandom(s) that I enjoyed, posted a couple "hey I'm writing for this, send in requests" posts with tags appropriate to what I wanted to do and voila - here I am today!
I started because fanfiction helps me focus on what I want my writing to be like! It warms up my creative muscles when wanting to expand upon my original projects. It explores the familiar instead of coming up with lore and such over time, and from that I can extract writing skills and characterisations and mould them into something exclusively mine :)
I put more under a Read More because I tend to ramble! It's pretty much my big thoughts™ as a fanfic writer, but don't feel pressured to read it ❤️
So this blog is still relatively new (just turned one year old aka baby). I had been using Tumblr for probably around five years without an actual account which is in itself quite embarrassing for me lol. Whenever I'd join a new fandom, I would binge the (fave character) x reader tag, and also occasionally check out writing prompts, OC ideas and rare OCxReader tags.
How did I start up though? It was early 2020 that I got into Critical Role, stared watching Campaign 2 and anticipating EXU1. What I noticed was that while the CRxReader side of the fandom was so well and lovingly written, at the time it was quiet. There weren't many blogs, and at one point it was rare for me to find a post I hadn't already come across. So I decided I wanted to contribute to the fandom and write what I would like to read!
I have been a creative writer pretty much all my life, in recent years being recognised for my plays, poetry, and short stories. I have mentioned this before, but I am writing a book in the form of anthologies because I love the short story genre and it is less intimidating than writing a novel from scratch (which I also intend to do in the future).
Writing original worlds and characters is so so rewarding simply because it is your own. You are, to put it bluntly, a divine being pulling threads and weaving them into something unique and yours. But the process can also be draining and annoying and sometimes you're itching to write something comfortable that (in my experience) requires less dedication or wordlbuilding thought.
From my point of view, fanfiction is a hobby. Just like how I do art and hike and cook and train and act, it is something I enjoy and get pleasure from whenever I have the time for it. It's an overused phrase, but practice makes perfect, and fanfic is a great way to both do some writing practice and indulge in your favourite characters.
I am in so many fandoms I couldn't begin to list them all off without boring you guys. Normally, my interest drifts in and out, in between and beyond them. I love Lord of the Rings, but don't see myself writing for it because it's too precious to my childhood. I adore Skyrim, but most of the main characters lack the complexity I want when being sappy and romantic. I adored watching Stranger Things, but I prefer writing about high fantasy instead of urban fantasy/scifi/horror. I love to replay Dragon Age annually, but I lose interest very quickly after indulging in it.
The Witcher is fantastic, and I love dipping in and out of the fandom, but for some reason Critical Role has suited me down to the ground without pause and has been what most of my produced content has been about. It's probably to do with my love for DnD, the broad range of archetypes, deep and personal exploration of characters, and the immense amount of content on offer at my fingertips. Either way, it's been two years and I haven't gotten bored of it yet.
To summarise everything: do what's comfortable for you! I originally wanted to help contribute to a relatively quiet and small fandom, and help my writing skills even when taking breaks from my book. Two birds, one stone.
I'd recommend separating your original stuff from your fanfiction, simply because when they begin to overlap it gets complicated and hard to understand what is truly your own and what are fan musings. I don't want my hard work and worldbuilding to be compared to the world or characters belonging to someone else. FanficWriter!Poet (me as @railroad-migraine) is different to Playwright/Novelist!Poet (me hoping to publish in the next few years).
This is one reason why I don't share my OCs with fandoms. I don't discuss who I imagine "I" would be in a fandom, how I'd look, who I'd interact with or date. Because my OCs may find a place in my own story and world, somewhere not influenced or owned by someone else. It is a personal thing for my eyes only and my creativity to develop later. I don't want to share them until they've found their place in my canon universe. I do love hearing about other people's OCs though, do not misinterpret what I mean. I just personally don't want my characters to associate with a fandom I might not be part of forever. Hence why I write Reader Inserts!
Write what makes you happy (as long as it's not harmful), not what others in the fandom want. Be brave, do not feel pressured, and take your time or step back when you want to. You are in control of your creativity, interests, hobbies and blog. Requesters are only that - requesting. You don't owe them anything.
If you read till the end, kudos to you haha. Have an epic day, you x
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finally gotten into pathfinder kingmaker. pretty fun game
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gwendollin · 2 years
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:: 𝑳𝒖𝒔𝒕 ﹠ 𝑳𝒖𝒙𝒖𝒓𝒚 :: featuring 𝐁𝐚𝐧
♡. w//c. 1.5k
♡. t//w. [ SMUT. ] Fem!Reader. AFAB!Reader. Soft Dom!Ban. Size kink. Use of 'Princess. Good girl. Baby girl.' Praise kink. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. Cream pie. Slight dumbification. Cervix fucking mentions but not focused.
♡. sy//ns. You were his princess, and Ban could never deny his princess.
♡. a//n. Pure smut with the hot fox daddy
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Big.
He was big.
Not just in the way his massive, nearly 7ft frame dwarfed you. No, it was the way his cock spread your cunt's lips wide open, stretching and filling you deeply to the point you felt you might split in two. Your eyes widened as fingers entangled themselves into the sheets below you, sweat beading along your forehead with every agonizing inch of cock that sunk into you.
A kiss was pressed to your temple, the touch sweet and sending your heart fluttering. Words were warm against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine; "You're doing so good, princess, taking all my cock like this."
You whimpered as a response but hips shifted back in an attempt to take the rest of him inside of you. You had to stop the moment the head of his cock met your cervix, the sensation deep in your gut and a delightful mingle of slight discomfort and satisfaction. Ban let out a little chuckle at your eagerness. You'd been laying on your stomach, the massive fox-like man coming into you from behind and craning his entirety over your frame. One of his hands kept him propped up while the other cradled your chin, drawing your head up enough to be able to look up at him.
"You look so pretty," he cooed, thumb brushing against the soft of your cheek. "You gonna keep being good for me? You gonna keep taking my cock as well as you are?"
You nodded in his grasp, a little 'mhm' slipping from your lips. Determination sat on your brows, a glimmer in your eyes as you gazed into slitted crimson irises. Ban flashed you a smile, fangs glinting.
"Good girl," he purred, pressing another kiss but this time to your forehead. Hand released you and your chin fell down to the bed, head turning to look back as soon as you felt his hips withdraw.
The slide back into you felt divine. Gummy walls clamped and greedily sucked him in, pleasure beginning to beat against your stomach and curl throughout your body with every pump of his cock. Eyes rolled up as your lips parted, gentle moans echoing from your throat. The pace was nice and slow at first, enough for you to feel every agonizing sensation that budded throughout your body.
"Oh god," you breathed, head of his cock rubbing up against your deepest core.
Ban's lips met the crown of your head, words murmured into the skin; "You're taking all of me in, baby girl. I'm so proud of you."
The words sent your heart into a tizzy, the praise practically making you glow with both pride and pleasure. You wanted to hear more, to know how wonderful you felt, how you made his cock feel. Yet you kept it to yourself, knowing full well within time you'd get what you wanted. Ban always gave you what you wanted.
You felt his hips rock, stretching your walls and scratching that itch that'd been gnawing at you. You couldn't help it; his cock felt too good, you couldn't stave the craving of having him back inside of you for longer than a few days. You'd clawed at his chest and jacket, fingers and hands kneading at the leather while you mewled like a pitiful kitten for him. Ban would always grin while a hand snaked itself around your waist, pulling you firmly to sit into his lap.
"A-ah, fuck," you'd gasped out. Arms reached out and hands clawed at the sheets, drawing the fabric to you as you felt his cock pound into the sweetest of spots within you. Vision was growing fuzzy, your mouth hanging slack as the pleasure ran hot through your bloodstream, igniting you from the inside out. Deep within your gut the pleasure bubbled until finally the heat rose and you were spilling around his cock. Your cum was slick and wet, oozing around the base of him and dripping down your swollen lips.
"You cumming for me, baby?" he cooed, feeling the way your walls gripped onto him like a vice, massaging him in every single way he so dearly loved. "You tightening up? You feel so damn good, nice and warm around my cock. Cum for me again."
It wasn't like you had much of a choice. He'd fucked you straight through the orgasm, leaving no room for reprieve. Your head laid down onto the mattress below, pants and moans escaping from your lips as the pleasure once again began to simmer deep in your gut. You could feel it coming, that blinding white feeling that exploded from within and coursed throughout your entire body, leaving it exhausted.
"You're so wet for me," the deep baritone of his voice continued to praise, the words showering you and feeling warmer than sunbeams on a Summer's day.
Ban had shifted so that his hands cupped over your own, relieving your digits of their tightening grip along the sheets and instead favoring the clenching of his own. Palms dwarfed yours and covered them almost entirely, your grip weak in comparison to his own as he clung to you.
Again, and again, you'd felt your pussy flutter around his cock and begin to lazily drool cum around him. Cock was slicked shiny and wet, the sounds of him pounding into your cunt filling the empty spaces your wails and moans didn't take up. Ban breathed a soft groan at a particularly heated cinch, your walls tending him in a way that made him bite down at his lip.
You could feel him throb within you, and the thought of his cum made your eyes roll up and cunt spasm around him. You echoed a soft moan laced with his name. Fuck, you wanted him to cum, to fill you so that it'd spill out in a steady stream from your hole when he pulled out. Wanted to feel the way his cock would grow hot and thick before pumping you full. It drove you nearly feral, your teeth connecting with your bottom lip so hard it nearly drew blood.
Just as you'd told yourself before; you always got what you wanted, and Ban was always happy to give it. However, you knew he wouldn't this time unless you said something.
"B-Ban," you whimpered out.
Your fox dipped himself down, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear before giving it a playful little nibble; "Yes, baby girl?"
You swallowed at the nickname, heart beating against your ribcage. Your words were a pitiful babble, lust's fangs sinking themselves so deep into your core it'd become hard to think straight; "W-wanna... Wanna be full."
Ban's lips curled into a grin, cheeks dusting a pretty pink. "Already? But you're doing so good, you've lasted so much longer this time."
You nodded, giving a squeeze to his fingers. "C-cum in me, please, I wan' it so bad."
There was no way he could deny you; not when his pretty baby was practically begging for him. Another kiss was laid to your temple before he'd lifted his hips enough to slide himself partially out and then back in, the act making you groan in delight. He fucked you lazily, taking his time, enjoying the way your ass bounced with every hit of his hips and body shifted against his weight along the bed. You were so cute, so lovely.
You came again, this time with a wail and the tensing of your body. Something had felt different. This felt white hot, burning, your cunt throbbing and aching with a need for release and you whimpered and wailed as mind came to a halting stop. Before you could stop yourself, you'd felt it; a gush of warmth splashing down across your thighs and his cock, staining the sheets and the mattress below. Ban echoed your moans, his deep and low in their bellow. Cock began to throb from within you, your mind falling blank save for a select choice words of, 'cum, please, cum, cum.'
The warmth flooded you and you gasped a little. Ban grew still, his sigh low and long as it escaped from his chest and he spilled deep inside of you. You felt so good, too good, he couldn't help himself.
It'd already begun to leak even before he'd slipped his fat cock out of you. Cum dripped in a steady stream down your pussy lips, soaking your throbbing clit and dripping down onto the sheets below.
You were left a panting mess along the bed, body spent and thighs wet and sticky. Ban drank you in, admiring your unravel with a slight smile before he sat himself along the side of the bed and scooped you up into his arms and lap. Feebly you curled up into him while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
"You did so good for me, princess."
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ploppythespaceship · 2 years
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I've never even heard of Star Trek Prodigy, what is that? Is there a new animated Star Trek show?
This show honestly passed a lot of people by, considering how the common reaction to me mentioning Prodigy is huh? But I think it’s been pretty good so far, and it’s a shame that it’s not getting as much attention as the other new Treks.
So! What is Star Trek: Prodigy?
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Prodigy follows a group of kids and teens from the Tars Lamora prison colony in the Delta Quadrant. They come across a Federation ship deep underground called the Protostar, and use it to escape. The head of Tars Lamora, known as the Diviner, is desperate to get his hands on the Protostar and begins chasing them across the galaxy. Aboard the Protostar, a training hologram of Janeway is activated and, believing the escapees to be Starfleet cadets, begins guiding them into becoming a proper crew as they head towards the Federation.
The main characters are:
Dal R’El, the self-proclaimed captain of the Protostar from an unknown race, slowly but surely learning to put aside his selfish and cocky instincts to become a proper leader.
Gwyndala, the Diviner’s daughter who seems to have been trained for the Protostar all her life, being a skilled navigator and linguist. Originally brought aboard as a hostage, but later joining the crew for real.
Rok-Tahk, a Brikar who seems to be a terrifying enormous rock monster at first glance, but is actually just a young girl who’s never experienced life outside of captivity.
Murf, Rok’s indestructible pet blob.
Jankom Pog, a Tellarite engineer known for his exuberance, argumentative nature, and tendency to refer to himself in the third person.
Zero, a Medusan (remember them from TOS’s “Is There In Truth No Beauty?”) living in a constructed suit so that corporeal beings can safely observe and interact with them. A sentient, nonbinary, telepathic cloud.
And of course, Hologram Janeway, the mentor to this wayward group, guiding them to become better people and an even better crew.
So that’s what Prodigy is. Why do I think it’s good so far?
The characters are all engaging and likable. It’s a nice mix of familiar tropes tossed in with brand new ideas, and it makes for a batch of people that I care about and want to see succeed.
There’s also an ongoing mystery that’s really simple and engaging, but without the entire show relying too heavily on it to function.
The show is a welcome return to the more episodic structure of classic Trek. I know this one’s more subjective, but sometimes I’m tired of long involved plotlines where each episode blends into the last. Sometimes I just want to see an interesting group of characters that get sent on a series of unique adventures. Prodigy happens to scratch that particular itch for me. It still has an overarching story, but each episode still stands on its own with a complete beginning, middle, and end.
Also, if you’re like me and don’t like how newer Star Trek has been trending darker and darker, this will be a breath of fresh air for you. It still tackles some heavy topics, like slavery and abandonment, but it’s not excessively violent or gory. It handles them in a way that’s approachable for kids.
There are a lot of really simple tie-ins to other Trek series that I just love. I’ve had issues with other shows just jamming any reference they can wherever they can *cough* Lower Decks *cough* but Prodigy doesn’t feel like it’s doing that. It feels more like the writers are just taking advantage of the entire Trek universe to slip in some little details that fans would appreciate.
The animation is really, really good. Some of the character movement is a bit stiff, and the lip syncing is frankly atrocious. But the character designs and the settings are superb. Some of the scenes are so gorgeous that they took my breath away on first viewing.
It’s only eight episodes in, so there’s plenty of room to improve, and only time will tell if the quality holds. But for right now, I think it’s well worth checking out, especially if anything above interests you.
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carnal-lnstinct · 2 years
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Divinely Favored: Valentine’s Day Fic
Pairing: Goku & Vegeta x Female Reader ( God of Destruction ) Rating: Mature / 18+  AO3 Warning: ( canon divergent, explicit language, manipulation/gaslighting, implied/referenced cheating and dubious consent present, chapter mostly dialogue )
[ Prologue ] [ Gift Reveal ]
“Oh, it’s been a week already? That was fast..” You murmured looking out the window from the dining hall in your bathrobe. Whis had returned from the Earth with the two saiyans in his company. Time certainly flew by, a week did prove to not be long enough for the sake of you recharging yourself from all your socializing with mortals lately. In all honesty, you were starting to care less and less about The Valentine’s Day exchange with each passing day, but you were still eager to see what fruits bore from the efforts of your firm hand. With a grin, you move back to sit down at the dining table waiting for the approaching company to join you. You slide a decorated woven basket close to you, adjusting the white silk cloth covering the contents inside.
“Welcome back, Whis. Hello boys.” You greeted them as they entered the dining hall. “All pretty and punctual, I see.” The Prince appeared to be wound up as usual but returned your greeting. And Goku, of course, greeted you with his cordial and casual manners that rarely faltered. You grinned more, seeing they did not come empty-handed. Vegeta’s hands looked a lot lighter than Goku’s who carried a long box under his arm. “Look at this. I’m impressed! No default losers here.” Vegeta was relieved to hear you say it out loud while Goku gave a brighter grin at their success. Considering the stakes you laid out, they weren’t given much choice than to meet expectations. “Didn’t it feel good to get your wife something special? You didn’t need my help after all.”
“I take it you can forgive lunch being late seeing as I had to run out to grab it along with Goku and Vegeta for you,” Whis interjected, unloading a bundle of food in front of you and placing a few trays around your basket. Each one had a special, warm aroma to it, some familiar and others completely new to you. Whis proceeds to sit at the opposite side of the table with his own trays. “I am eager to see how this is going to go myself.”
“I have no complaints.” You softly clapped your hands and bounce in your seat itching to try the new arrangements placed before you. Immediately after looking over your fine spread, your eyes returned to the beautifully decorated black box in Goku’s arm. It looked only a foot or two smaller than himself, a box as big as that was sure to compel your curiosity to what it held inside .“So without further delay. Goku.” You chose first, slightly turning toward them in your chair and crossing one of your legs over the other. You take one of your trays in hand to start eating from it. “Show me what you have there.”
“Me first? Okay!” The energetic saiyan slides the thin box from under his arm and stands it beside him, holding it in place with one hand slipping the lid off to show a black dress carefully aligned within at its full length. “Ta-da!” An asymmetrical hem, sleeveless by the looks of it. The dress gave off a dim twinkle when you tilted your head in your inspection. It was beautiful! Almost too tasteful of a choice that you can’t believe he picked that out on his own. The style of it didn’t seem to be something you would expect to see Chi Chi wear. She appeared to be the type to cover herself in neat, comfortable layers from the attire you have often seen her wear. You are genuinely intrigued about how this choice came to find him. 
“That’s lovely! What made you choose such a gift for your wife?”
“Well...” He started to laugh, scratching a finger at his cheek. “If I’m being honest, I had a little help picking out a gift. Chi Chi doesn’t really ask for much of anything for herself. She just wants our family to do our best, so I wasn’t sure what to get her at first. But then I remembered she was upset about losing one of her earrings a while back. We looked all over our house, and even Gohan and Videl’s place, but no luck. Hercule’s always trying to give us money and tends to hang around a lot of women himself, so I went to him to see if maybe he knew somewhere to get a nice pair of earrings for Chi Chi to replace her favorite set.” Goku proceeds to close the dress box and set it down, then reached inside his inner pocket pulling out a smaller black box. He opened it, a brighter twinkle catching the light when the stones of the earrings were revealed. You’re halted mid-bite from your fork at the beautiful glow. “These sorta look like the ones she had, so I’m hoping she’ll like these as much as the ones she lost. The dress was all Hercule’s idea, though. He said if we wanted, he could get us a reservation at one of those fancy restaurants where she can wear it to and he’ll cover all the expenses. That way she doesn’t have to cook for us for a change!” 
“How... thoughtful, Goku.” You’re surprised by how well-meaning his gifts are. It sounded almost identical to what Bulma had told you. Everything served a purpose of fondness and appreciation. “I hope she loves them.” Though there’s not a sign of chocolate in sight, you were hoping to at least see what the special chocolates would be like.
“Yeah, it did feel good to get her something nice and expensive that’s just for her for once. She’s always looking out for us.” He at least appeared proud of his efforts. Even Vegeta appeared impressed by this. You’re sure he’s wondering the same thing you are about Chi Chi and her reaction to a dress as revealing as that. 
You break him out of his daze with a little playful prod to his ego, smirking. “That’s going to be hard to beat.” 
Vegeta’s shoulders immediately tensed and that irked growl followed in tow like clockwork. He steps forward, untucking his arms and making room for himself in front of the other saiyan as he looked back at him. “You’re done now, right? It’s my turn.”
You snickered. You have to remind yourself the gifts themselves aren’t so much the competition, but the goals for their significant other and efforts to obtain them aren’t to be compared. You are judging them on their reasons behind the gifts, that they do meet the expectations Bulma set in place for you to gauge. “Alright, Vegeta. What do you have?” You gestured to him to begin. He approaches you with a paper and hands it to you. The eager light starts to fall from your eyes looking it over, stare locking on him when you looked up from it. “...A folded paper with pictures?”
“It’s a brochure, for a private cruise.” He explained, opening the folds up for you and directing your eyes with his gloved finger along with the writings. “This is the itinerary for each day.” A small bottle fitted in his other hand is suddenly presented for you to take as well. “-And this, too.” You look it over, reading the label across and pressing down on the nozzle, releasing a small spritz into the air between you.
“Oh! It smells... like the earth strawberries. This is that sweet smell that comes from Bulma sometimes.” You recognize the scent of the perfume with a delight. You were actually a fan of this smell but never got around to asking her about what it may have been. You nod approvingly, bringing a proud smirk to Vegeta’s features. “Okay. Tell me why you chose these gifts?”
He stiffens with a slight groan, cheeks filling with a pink color. “...She’s been bringing it up lately how she wanted the two of us to spend more time together. A-Alone time. She told me it would be nice to spend time as just husband and wife for a change since we didn’t exactly have a honeymoon after officiating our marriage.” He shyly admitted, though still trying to hold his stoic bearings. On par for his mannerisms as you hoped for nothing less than see him squirm. “Her father gave me the means to set up the cruise so it’s just us for the entire ride to the private island resort. You know the one.” Ah yes, the one when Frieza brought that ogre to Earth for the Dragon Balls. You return the brochure and perfume to him and he seems to give the bottle a longing look before lowering it to his side. An endearing smile teases the corner of his lips. “The Perfume was...I just happened to notice her running out of it from spraying it so much, is all.” He gives a dismissive shrug, but it only made you smirk again.
“Adventurous. And personal. Very impressive, Vegeta.” You admired of him. “I stand corrected.” There’s a romantic behind that armor, after all. His gift was exactly what Bulma shared with you of her desires. Indeed, she will be getting her surprise. 
“Both gifts are sure to make an impression on Bulma and Chi Chi. How romantic, this Valentine’s day occasion!” Whis chimes in whimsically. “But we do have Lady (y/n)’s gift as well to spice things up. Your motivations for winning this little game are to have that, plus My Lady for an entire day with her blessing, right?” Of course, you are the real prize to be won here in the end, and what their imagination could craft out of twenty-four, consequence-free, hours with you. Goku suddenly moves in closer, larger stature pushing past Vegeta in his eagerness.
“So who wins?!” He excitedly asks.
“Calm down. I’m getting to it.” You waved him off. “But I am curious about something. It seems you both went out of your way on a leap of faith to obtain these gifts. Is part of your Valentine’s tradition not to outright ask your significant other what they wanted, but to surprise them?” An awkward silence falls across the two, both eyes seeming to wander in thought; a realization that perhaps would have made the past seven days more simple. Whis lets out a chuckle to himself and you lightly shake your head with a chesire-like grin at their quiet reveal. “Fascinating..” Truly, your help was needed, but not where it mattered the most which was satisfying enough. A pity you have to keep referencing destroying the Earth to get things going with these two from time to time. You await the day the meaning of that threat loses its vigor, by then all you desire of them will come to an epic climax.
You turn back towards your basket and set down your food tray.  “I am admittedly impressed by your use of resources. You’ve both exceeded my expectations. Looks like I won’t be blowing up the planet and leaving you homeless.”
“Implying you would both just be stuck here for the remainder of your life.” Whis pointed out before taking another bite from is tray with an impish gleam, the thought immediately bringing you to frown. You know what he meant by it, that you would spare your “playthings” after stranding them with nowhere else to go.
“--No one is implying that. Anyways,” You withdraw the fabric from over the basket and lift up a single fruit from inside. The shape could be compared to that of the peaches of Earth, however its skin shined like an apple with its golden color. The reveal brought both saiyans closer to observe it. “This is the fruit of Planet Ambrosi. The Golden Elysia Fruit.”
“A fruit? What’s it for?” Goku asks leaning closer with curious eyes and a hand itching to touch it, but denied when you swatted him away.
“It’s for your wives.” You tap the center of the fruit with your finger, a quick flash of energy bursting in a vertical line as it perfectly fell into two halves in your hands. The natural juices and a few seeds spilled from the seams down into the basket caught by the cloth you placed back inside. “I give you, The Lovers Fruit.”
“So it is just a fruit..” Vegeta’s brow knitted and his own frown grew with disappointment. “...My Lady, if I may ask-”
 “I know, it seems small compared to your actual gifts. But do not let its shiny and humble look fool you, it has quite the potent bite for mortals. Ambrosians are a weaker, but free-spirited race of people, not so different from humans. As far as celebrating every small thing with social activities and banquets of food, at least. This fruit is a byproduct of their world and a remarkable one at that. Not so different from the senzu beans you’re familiar with, it just has a bit more character to it.”
“A single bite amplifies something in the body that heightens sensitivity, sedates pain, lowers inhibitions, and...almost always leads to orgies.” The last line is uttered with hints of disdain from Whis. “At least in the manner we have witnessed its use. But it can be used to craft healing salves, make a refreshing beverage, or potentially make you more durable in a battle.”
 “Naturally, I am given this as a delicious offering in return for allowing their world to keep spinning in peacefully after their barbaric mannerisms tried to take advantage of my mercy once. Its influence isn’t too keen on me or Whis, but they're irresistibly sweet. Each bite is juicy and crisp! But they say the real magic is in “swallowing the seeds”.” You gesture the halves showing off the inside and where said seeds resided. “This one is mine. Yours is not ready yet. It’s on standby, becoming ripe as we speak, and should be ready in time for the winner’s Valentine’s day. I uhh... I’m waiting for their “occasion” to pass.”
“Please don’t take this wrong way, My Lady, but I am dying to know. What have you learned about Valentine’s day to come to the conclusion this fruit is needed for Bulma?” Vegeta further inquired after hearing all he had to. He has no doubt you mean well, however he is keen of your ways and certain there’s a double standard to your innocent-looking gift. The reasons shared behind the fruit’s purpose came as impractical. What it provides, what is being insinuated of his marriage life, he just cannot agree with making use of it. He knows he can be better with the romance, but an aphrodisiac implies some impotence somewhere in the relationship. He’s fucked both Bulma and you to know that’s not the case.
You meet his query with a squinted gaze, uncrossing your leg and rise from your chair making both of them retreat in careful steps back. You size up his tone in his question and the corner of your lip twitches as you try to hold your composure. “Please, do speak up if you feel I have only wasted my valuable time getting this for your wife. By no means am I incapable of finding a better use for it.” That chilling, calm inflection leaves your lips as you speak and set a frightful creeping sensation in Vegeta’s spine. Indeed, you took it the wrong way. “Do you feel I went through the trouble of making arrangements for this to mock you, Vegeta? That’s a trifle I won’t endure for a laugh at your expense.” If he wants the truth so bad, you will give him the answer he seeks. “You. Have been. Inadequate.” You admitted to him, curtly. The grim look that overcame your face left Vegeta taken aback. “She referred to it as distant. “He is trying”, she says. I call it arrogance, and somewhere in the past that selfishness has wounded her deep.” You set the two halves of the fruit back inside the basket and step forward with purpose toward Vegeta who only stopped stepping back when your hand gripped his armor.
“Did you forget what kind of energy a God of Destruction can detect from others? The bane in her soul put there by you? I did set all of this up for her and Chi Chi, yes, because I pitied them and where they chose to hold their faith.” Your other hand cups his trembling chin and holds him in place, bringing his face closer to yours. “Because your arrogance nurtures that poison inside her. Since the day I met her it has yet to fade. Your precious Bulma, you truly hurt her bad once, Vegeta. Am I right? Tell me now, am I wasting my kindness? Shall I act as is intended of me to end the mortal’s suffering?”
“So does that mean me too? Did I hurt Chi Chi?” The Taller Saiyan asks pointing to himself. You turn your head in his direction, looking him up and down and a contemptuous frown is given as an answer. It is true you don’t hold enough interaction with Goku’s wife to fully know her as Bulma, but a look from your trained eyes is all it takes to reveal a soul. Goku frowns himself with a defiant narrow of his gaze. “But I haven’t done anything wrong to her! I mean... I’ve been doing everything Chi Chi tells me and she’s happy about that!”
“Yes... I pity the woman, as well, who must beg her husband to provide comforts to their family.” You sneered back at him. Releasing the shaken Prince you turn yourself to Goku and approach him as well with the same vigor. Him, you grab by the ear, pulling him down to your level before his feet could even lift from the ground. “Hers is like choking on fumes from embers. The fire has passed, yet the warmth of its burning is still there.” Your menacing aura starts to manifest around you  “Feeding you, tending to you. Burning out. I am not so certain what keeps her so complaisantly attached to you. But you can just smile through her disappointments, can’t you saiyan? You agree, then, that my kindness is wasted.”
“Take it easy, Lady (y/n).” Whis calmly urges. “You made your point. Bring it down.”
You release Goku’s ear with a rough final tug, Goku nursing the pain as you return to the dining table. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, you plop down in your chair and roll your shoulders. The corner of your lips turn up in a sly grin, exchanging glances with them once again before “ignoring” them all together and your destructive energy wanes from sight. “Ah, whatever. Don’t accept The Lovers Fruit for them if you don’t want it. Serves me right for sticking my neck out for you for a change. The point of this was to help them for Valentine’s day, and I did. I have interfered enough.”
“I agree, My Lady. Leave the mortals to their affairs.” Whis nods with a careful eye on you. You return to your food as the saiyans reflected on your potent words in silence. You knew giving up that truth would leave them both sick. This comes with the territory, perhaps, of taking up the responsibility for these two. An unintentional meddle on your part, but you can’t help but see malevolence and bitterness in the souls of mortals. It’s in the nature of destruction. They deserved to know, but not from your mouth. You can always sense the reflections of loss and anger in Goku’s soul as well as the penetrating wounds in Vegeta’s that shape their behaviors, too, but it is not your place to define that unrequested. Godly eyes are useful when you need them to be. 
 Goku inches back toward you and assumes an apologetic pose on his knees, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Lady (y/n). Does...the fruit really help?” He asks, voice almost mournful when he looks up to you. “Would it make Chi Chi’s soul happy if I get it for her? I’d be honored to have it i-if you still want to choose me!” 
Vegeta quickly moves from his stupor to join Goku’s side, repeating the apologetic bow himself toward you. “Please forgive my doubts, My Lady. If you choose to give it to me, I will see to its use.” 
You look down at them both and roll your eyes. The truth has brought them groveling for your forgiveness, however a part of you wants to just knock their heads through the floor. “...It can help as any balm to a wound if you are willing to properly nurse it.” You plainly answer, sounding no longer interested and turning away. “It’s a start. For the occasion. The language of love between humans, ambrosians, and saiyans has its complexities, but admittedly not so different from each other. Is this confirmation you are both willing to accept my kindness? ”
“I will.” Vegeta lifts his head to look up at you. “For Bulma.”
“Me too! For Chi Chi!” Goku nods, replenished with energy, hopeful you’re still interested in helping.
You slowly turn back to them, folding your arms under your chest. “No matter the cost?”
“Yes, My Lady.” “Yes, My Lady!”
Your grin grew and you let out a soft laugh. “Well... I can’t ignore that eagerness, then. I guess I have to forgive your doubts and make my decision.” With that said, you push back from the table and stand up once again. Goku and Vegeta both rise from their kneeled states as well with renewed hope of who would be receiving the Elysia Fruit. Taking one of the broken halves of your Elysia fruit, you break that in another set of halves with brute strength alone and place one of those pieces in between your teeth. “Whis, I am going to unwind with my bath now. Please wrap the rest of my food for later.” You requested, chewing down the piece as you walked from the table. Each of your hands finds a part of the saiyans’ attire pulling them along with you. One hand looped around the sash at Goku’s waist and the hem of Vegeta’s armor, both awkwardly following at your side, carried by your momentum. The fact that you downed a quarter of the fruit and brought them along with you to relax spelled out the remainder of their visit, a big shift from showing off the gifts they brought for their wives and painting them the cause of the women’s pain. 
You were either being very forgiving or they were still in some trouble for questioning your kindness. Considering you told them not to even cum until Valentine’s Day, the latter seemed the appropriate assumption.
You’ll make your decision known once you’re done with them.
                             [ VEGETA’S GIFT ]  [ GOKU’S GIFT ] 
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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years
Text
Pacific Love
A/N: So this fic can be read as Part 2 to Pacific Rimjob, or as a standalone fic! This second part is based on the below request for some hot sex followed by comforting cockwarming with Raleigh, the fluffiest snuggliest version of Charlie 🥰
Pairing: Raleigh Becket x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, your pussy serving as a home for Raleigh’s cock Requests: Request from @wayward-avenging​ + a separate request from @rayslittlekitten​
Word Count: ~1.7k
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“Still can’t believe you saved the motherfucking world.”
Your boyfriend sighs, with an exasperated blink of his blue eyes. Hates when you say it in that way, like he alone had saved the day. “We saved the world. Me and my girl.”
“You and the Gipsy Danger?” you reply, the name of his beloved Jaeger. The massive robot you two co-pilot together.
Raleigh heaves another sigh. He’s a fierce feminist, aware that women rarely get the recognition that they merit; the injustice of it makes him want to cry. That’s why he’s clearly so upset at your refusal to take credit.
Brushing a speck of dust off of the warm navy blue sweater he’s got on, you urge him not to sweat it. “Babe, I’m just pushing your buttons,” you admit, reaching to ruffle his blonde hair bright as spun gold and soft as cotton. At your touch you can already sense the energy inside him shifting. Letting go of his frustration as you gently fluff it out of him. “I know I had to carry all your problems, so it’s obvious that I’m the one who did the heavy lifting.”
He smiles as he melts into your hand then brings it down toward his lips so he can kiss it. “You know I’m glad the war is finished... but I gotta say I’m gonna miss it. Drifting.”
“Being in each other’s heads? Well, even better yet... we’ll always have our time together in each other’s beds.”
“That’s true,” he coos, stars in his baby blues. “I really like being inside of you.”
Who gave this full-grown man the right to be so fucking cute? It’s fucking rude. Your fingers wander toward his gorgeous golden mane again and comb tenderly through. “Of course you do. I like it too... and I love you.”
Throughout the war that you have somehow overcome, Drifting together had begun to feel like home. It felt like you belonged in his head even more than in your own. You were just better when you both were in that deep mind-melding zone. The two of you are more than just compatible; the bond you share is magical. It’s pure and powerful as hell.
And thankfully you know a way to bring that level of connection into the bedroom as well.
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***************
Sex with Raleigh Fucking Becket... is a trip to heaven on a one-way ticket.
You still recall and probably won’t ever forget—back in the days before the two of you had met—what all the other women gossiping throughout the Shatterdome had said: how this new guy walking around the halls was tall and good-looking and no doubt even better-looking naked, but probably a dud in bed. A pretty slice of plain white bread.
While he may come off as a teddy bear, with his soft fluffy hair, and eyes so big and bright you never fail to melt beneath his stare... so wholesome it’s really not fair... the truth is, none of those bitches knew shit. 
They didn’t have a clue, just what Mr. Becket could do. Neither did you—until he claimed you as his girl and put you through it.
True, Raleigh insists on sex within a context of mutual understanding and respect. Prefers softcore. Prefers the passion to feel pure, to let your hearts and souls connect. 
But that won’t stop his big heroic dick from fucking like a monster once he knows that you are ready to get wrecked. And all the hardcore kinks of yours... he’s more than willing to explore. 
By now he’s got a kink himself for dirty talk, and roughing you up with his cock—spanking your ass while he slams your cunt from behind and constantly reminds you that you are his filthy fucking whore.
That’s what he does tonight, fucking you up just right. 
He takes more pleasure and more pride, in pounding into you and plunging deep inside, than any earth-shattering war he’ll ever fight.
And so do you—the slick walls of your pussy squeezing tight, around his huge shaft as he plows it through, splitting you open wide... his cock may be the Jaeger as you take it. But this love is meant for both of you to make it.
The bed beneath you creaks and rocks, as Raleigh keeps slapping your slutty ass and railing you with his colossal cock; this wouldn’t be the first time that the power of his thrusts managed to break it.
Having literally saved the world gives you the right to fuck so hard you’ll probably fucking shake it. Shake the whole damn world. The wholesome hero and his filthy whore, his dirty little girl.
Now the war is finally over maybe someday he can flood you with his cum without protection and pump you full of a little baby Becket...
But you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself yet. That’s for another night. Tonight you’re still on birth control as he fills up your hole and hammers you into the bed. Tonight is all about making your man’s cock feel at home inside your cunt so wet, so tight—letting him wreck it, now the two of you have conquered this long fight... and then indulging in a long night that he won’t ever forget.
Once his thick hot cum paints your pussy, so deliciously juicy, your sex and his pulsing in sync in perfect ecstasy... both of you take a breathless moment to recover from the climax so intense and clear the shooting stars spinning around your heads.
Your co-pilot’s full body weight collapses down on yours and crushes you into the bed, so you can feel the muscles of his abs and chest, slick with his sweat, against your back so firmly pressed. He knows just how much you love that—it’s the best, this sense of being so closely connected, after any round of sex you’ve had, completely covered by your lover as you sink into the mattress. Being beneath him in this way makes you feel safe and loved and so alive after your senses get fucked dead.
Raleigh softly tilts his face to kiss your cheek, filling you with the love that gives you endless strength yet makes you feel so weak. Somehow you manage now to speak, reminding him of that one thing that he had said.
“Do you still miss the Drift?”
His cock inside your core is still as massive, almost just as stiff. Meanwhile his loving mouth curves up into a smile as it shifts from your cheek down toward your parted lips to seal them with a kiss. “There’s not a thing I miss. Not when I’m with you just like this.”
As if you weren’t already you are now convinced: Raleigh Becket is honestly a motherfucking Disney prince.
You drown in kisses for a few seconds—or minutes, or hours for all that you know, given that your perception of time always blurs in the sheer bliss of afterglow. Each kiss is soft and sweet and sensual and slow. 
His meat at last begins to soften where it’s buried deep inside you. Pulling out to shift position, for a sleepy snuggle session, is what he’ll usually do.
... But you have something else in mind, which you don’t doubt will feel divine. The thought of it excites you and you know that it’ll be nice for Raleigh too.
“Why don’t you stay,” you softly say, just as he starts to pull away.
“...Stay?” he echoes as he keeps his body held against yours tightly.
“Inside of me,” you murmur quietly. “Isn’t that where you like to be?”
His fully drained dick answers with a twitch. Throbbing against your inner walls and scratching a new itch. He’s catching on to the idea that you want to serve him as his cockwarming bitch.
Though Raleigh hates the thought of using you like some kind of accessory... on some level he knows that isn’t how it has to be. It can be comforting and pleasing for the two of you both equally, to keep him in your pussy, buried deeply.
And as he answers your question it’s obvious that he’s aroused beyond belief. “It’s home for me. If I could I would be inside you permanently. Never leave.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure the war is finally over...” you provocatively murmur. “So just go ahead and make yourself at home, soldier.”
You co-pilot lets out a growl of arousal and nuzzles your shoulder. “You sure?”
“Of fucking course. You know this pussy is all yours.”
“Mmm, that’s my perfect little whore,” he snarls, the words making your toes curl. “Who knew you’re such a dirty girl?”
“Um, you did, stupid.”
He masks his laughter and pretends to be insulted. “Now that’s no way to talk to the hero who just saved the world!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you playfully answer. “Remind me that you saved the world and that you own my body, sir.”
Raleigh’s half-hard dick pushes inside you deeper than it already is as his full weight keeps pressing you into the bed. “Mmm, as if you could ever forget...”
Indeed as if you ever could, when his cock owns you so fucking good. 
You spend all night impaled on his wood. Alternating between cozy cuddling, with butterfly kisses and fluffy hair ruffling... and crazy hard fucking, with him stuffing you so roughly that you’ll surely wake incapable of walking... then cuddling again as his cock slowly softens. Changing up your position every so often, but never once loosening your cunt’s tight hold of him—all the while Raleigh stays buried inside of you just as he should.
Whisper words of love, though words are never enough. You both already know it, and show it... melding into one and the same person, your two hearts as one, beating in unison, just as every fiber of your being and his come undone in complete perfect sync every time you get off.
The war has never felt farther behind you, than now when he’s deep inside you. This is home and there’s such peace, in each release. Such pure pacific love.
While the bond that you forged and explored in the Drift was a gift... one that Raleigh will miss.. nights like this—this feeling of sharing in such absolute bliss—even after the war is finished, love unlike war has no fucking limits. And that’s the true gift.
This is the gift that will keep on giving for as long as you live.
***************
Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖
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nightowlfandom · 2 years
Text
Vampire! King! Ardyn Izunia!- Sadistic
Hey guys! Let’s kick off October with a bang!!! 
ANON ASKS (HEY FRIEND)
Sooo Ardyn is a guilty pleasure of mine. Feel free to do what you want with these prompts, I won’t judge lol. They are all from the prompt list.
7. You like when I choke you don’t you?
62. What a gorgeous dress…but it’d look better torn to ribbons don’t you think?
70. You know…it’s dangerous being out like this. A pretty little sla- I mean thing like you out here all alone.
Thank you for including the actual prompt in the ask!! I may or may not have made him slightly sadistic. Also I got a rude ask telling me to put a read more break...so on purpose I didn’t add one here. It pays to be polite.
CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!
X RATED PROMPT LIST| NON X RATED PROMPT LIST
Leggo!!
...
The hem of your gown was torn to shreds as you ran through the forest. You were barefoot running through the cold and wet dirt. Your feet were starting to itch from the scratching of small twigs against your skin. You were running away from your parents’ palace. 
You were to be married to someone. Someone you were disgusted by. You had two options. Marry or Be disowned. You chose to escape through your window and jump down. You almost hurt yourself on the way down, but it was worth it. 
You had been running for what felt like hours with the moon on your tail. You finally stopped as soon as your palace was nothing but a silhouette in the distance. 
“Guess I’m homeless now.” you sighed, sitting on a small log. “What am I supposed to do?” you groaned. It was dark and you could barely make out the moon amongst the smog. Lucky for you the wind was slightly picking up allowing you to feel the breeze on your skin.
“What’s this?” a low vibrating tone allowed you to come back to your senses. 
You instantly rose to your feet, turning to meet the face of tall man. He looked as if he was dressed for the middle of the winter time with his heavy trench coat and scarf. 
“A scared little lamb all by herself in such a place. You’re a long way from home aren’t you, young one?”
“Don’t speak down on me as if I’m a child, sir.” you narrowed your eyebrows at the strangers. “I’m far from it.”
“Hm.” he smirked. “My apologies.” he gave a slight bow. “What’s a young soul like you doing out in these parts so late in the night?”
“I don’t believe that is any business of yours, sir.” you took a step back. “Now I’ll be taking my leave now.” your voice wavered as you turned aroundd. But just as you turned to walk away, a man, the same man appeared before you.
“ You know…it’s dangerous being out like this. A pretty little sla- I mean thing like you out here all alone. “ he said with his hand held out. “If I may be so bold, I can escort you out of these parts.” his eyes practically glowed in the dark.
“No thank you.” you stepped back. “I know my way very well, thank you.”
Just as you turned around again, he appeared in front of you once more.
“Darling little girl-”
“Don’t call me a little girl!” you seethed.
“Hm, touchy are we. Young one doesn’t like being called a pathetic...little...girl.” he towered over you. “And don’t even think about grabbing the dagger I know is strapped to your thigh...you won’t get to use it.”
“What are you?” your voice slightly wavered.
“Ardyn Izunia...is what I am.”
Ardyn, where have you heard that name. The man seemed to laugh as the look of realization crossed your face. King Ardyn? The ‘Father’ of all vampires. He cackled at your fear struck expression. Your father had told you stories of his evil. 
“Ah the young princess Y/N knows of me?”
“How did you-”
“Know your name, love? Everyone knows of the, most beautiful, kindest and giving of her time. You should know better, how forgetful we are.” he raised an eyebrow.
“You stay away from me.” you warned. 
“Hm are you’re guards going to come and kill me, love?”
“I have no guards...not anymore.” you found yourself saying. You had your hand on your thigh under the slit of your dress. You wrapped your hand around your dagger. “Leave me...now.”
“Hm...anymore? Why? Was the little princess disowned?” he laughed. “Did their royal highnesses finally get rid of their problem child?”
You suddenly felt small and inadequate. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh yes you have.” he took a step towards you. “You’re all alone, with no one?” he cooed. “Which means there’s no one to hear you scream.”
“Hear me sc-”
You were tackled to the floor, your weapon flying out of your hand. Ardyn bared his fangs towards you...” You like when I choke you don’t you? “ he cackled as he tightened his hands around your throat. You felt dizzy, very...fucking..dizzy.
”I must admit, darling girl...you look so delectable. It’s a shame I must kill you...but a vampire must drink.” he moved his hands from your neck allowing you to inhale sharply.
With his arm wrapped around your wrist and bought your shaky arm to his mouth. You were too frozen to even try and move. Adryn inhaled your scent, smiling sadistically down at you. 
You held in your pain as he sunk his needle like fangs into your skin. You wouldn’t scream or cry.
“...So...divine.” the man shuddered. “S-so...addicting.” Was that normal? 
You had no idea why, but feeling this. It was supposed to be painful, it was supposed to be what happened before you died a terrible death. So why were you seeing images...images you shouldn’t have seen.
...
“You look so beautiful in the sun, my darling.” the man beside you caressed your face as you both laid in the gardens. “You are the most beautiful of my fledglings.”
“I’d just better be the only one you treat like this.”
“Trust me darling, there are other people who will sire for me...my fangs will only ever touch your skin...when I’m not feeding or killing.” he smirked. “Come, it’s been a busy day. Lay your head on my chest...rest with me.”
You laid on his chest, the sun casting a glare over your naked bodies. “Can I ask you a question, Ardyn? Is this whole laying naked in the sun a regular thing?”
“Clothes are for humans with no free time...Now hush my dear...rest.”
...
and everything else went black.
...
You awoke on a plush surface. It was soft and velvety. A large, black comforter was covering your body. 
“Oh fuck, am I dead?” was your first thought. You swung your legs around the bed and planted your feet on the floor. Why were you so cold. You walked over to a vanity, standing in front of a mirror. Your arm was bandaged up. “No...I’m not dead.”
“You’re finally awake.”
You whipped around. Ardyn was sitting in an armchair wearing only a silk bathrobe. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”
“W-what? What did you do to me?”
“I didn’t kill you, I know that much.” he rose from his seat.
“What?...Where am I??”
“My home...well. Our home now.” he walked towards you. “I know what you’re thinking-”
“You saw it too didn’t you?” you cut him off. “I know you know what it means...so tell me.”
“I’m not sure...all I know is that I couldn’t kill you. Before I knew it, I bit my own hand and made you take my own blood...I’ve never done that when changing someone.”
“Changing?!” you widened your eyes. “You...you PEICE OF!” you raised your fist when you realized just how clearly you could make out every crevice and divot on your hand and nails. “N-no this isn’t real!”
“Oh it is, my sweet.” he tiptoes his fingers up arm. You took a small step back, staring down at yourself. 
“ What a gorgeous dress…but it’d look better torn to ribbons don’t you think? “ he grabbed your hands in his. “Stop resisting and accept your new fate.”
“I feel strange.” you expressed honestly. “Is it supposed to feel like this?” you stared up at him.
He tilted your head up, staring at your innocence. 
“It can feel even better. Vampires are godly lovers...very few have laid with me...if you agree, you can be mine.”
(HAVE ANY MONBSTER REQUESTS? LET ME KNOW!!! IM TRYNA POST AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE THIS MONTH!!)
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jaskierswolf · 3 years
Note
Geraksier fucking against the wall in the stables at Kaer Morhen? 👀 (from @geraskier-trashh)
@dani-dandelino my love! Please accept some smutty delight this Saturday evening.
Geraskier - 1.2k
CW: 18+, Semi-public sex, butt plug, top Jaskier/bottom geralt.
_______
It had been a long day and blissful day in the vineyards surrounding Corvo Bianco. Jaskier had insisted that Geralt take the day off from contracts and witchering to spend the day with him, just the two of them and Roach. Jaskier had considered bringing Pegasus out with him but they weren’t going far and Roach could carry them both for the short distance. There was just something romantic about being pressed up against your lover as you round through the beautiful meadows of Toussaint. Jaskier hadn’t imagined he’d ever settle down but the Duchy made it easy. It was vibrant, colourful, full of wine, everything a bard could need.
And Geralt was there.
Everything he could need.
After a lazy day of eating the finest food and wine that they could acquire on short notice, exchanging kisses, and generally just basking in each other’s company, Jaskier was… well he was horny. It had all been incredibly romantic and now he had another itch to scratch. The ride back on Roach hadn’t helped, his cock growing hard as he jostled against Geralt’s ass.
He was waiting impatiently now as Geralt saw to Roach. Despite the fact they paid for a stablehand, Geralt always insisted on getting her settled himself, and it was fucking frustrating. Jaskier knew his witcher could smell his arousal, and yet Geralt was taking his time, as he always did. His voice a low rumble as he spoke to his darling mare, and gods, his voice just did things to Jaskier. It always had, but it was worse now that he knew exactly what sorts of things that voice could whisper in his ear during sex.
He bit his lip, his hand wandering down to palm his cock through his trousers. He just needed something to take the edge off.
It didn’t take the edge off.
Instead, it fanned the flames, and he moaned softly, trying to stay quiet. Geralt might be taking care of Roach but that didn’t mean they were alone. He knew the stablehand was probably nearby.
And because he was Jaskier, that only served to heighten his arousal. He wondered how far they could get before someone caught them. He quickly unlaced his trousers and shoved his hand down his small clothes, sighing as he took himself in hand.
“What are you doing?” Geralt ask, the brush hovering just above Roach’s back. The witcher quirked an eyebrow at him but Jaskier could see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.
Jaskier winked at him, biting his lips and moaning louder than strictly necessary, but he so enjoyed putting on a show. He heard Geralt’s breath hitch in his throat, a tell tale sign of his witcher’s growing arousal. Jaskier moaned again, his eyes rolling back in his head. In all honesty, it didn’t feel that good, but he liked having Geralt’s attention on him. It felt good, better than sex even. He’d give up sex completely if it meant he could keep Geralt.
Luckily for him, he didn’t have to.
Geralt growled and pulled Jaskier in for a kiss. He pulled his hands from his trousers and gripped his witcher’s arse, fingers digging into the leather of his unfairly tight trousers.
“You’re a menace,” Geralt murmured against his lips.
“I’m your menace,” Jaskier agreed, nipping at Geralt’s lip and kissing along his jaw.
“Hmm.”
“It’s your fault for looking so divine, my darling. Those trousers make your arse looked utterly sinful,” Jaskier slapped Geralt arse as if to prove his point, kissing Geralt’s neck as he did.
Geralt smirked, cupping Jaskier’s face between his hands and brushing his lips along his jaw. “Thought you’d say that,” he whispered in Jaskier’s ear, nibbling at his earlobe and making Jaskier shiver. “So, I prepared a surprise for you, love.”
Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he moaned loudly, attacking Geralt’s lips with his own, pushing them both towards the wall of the stables as he desperately tugged at the laces of Geralt’s trousers. Geralt grunted as his back hit the wall and Jaskier finally managed to pull the witcher’s trousers down, revealing the toned thigh muscles hidden underneath. Jaskier bit his lip, debating whether to suck Geralt off, but he was ever so curious about his surprise. He groped his lover’s arse, fingers slipping between Geralt’s cheeks until….
“Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have,” he purred into the kiss, catching Geralt’s lip between his teeth as he pulled away. His fingers teased the familiar plug, causing Geralt’s breath to hitch. “Did you have this in all afternoon?”
Geralt nodded. Jaskier just raised an eyebrow at his witcher, one hand stroking the length of Geralt’s cock lazily, a featherlight touch that he knew drove his lover mad. “Yes,” Geralt finally hissed out.
“Oh, ho, ho, sweetheart, you should have told me, I could have had so much fun with this,” Jaskier whined as he mourned the opportunity of fucking his boyfriend in the fields around the estate.
Instead, he settled for lifting Geralt up, supporting the witcher’s legs as they wrapped around his waist, and then he worked the plug out carefully. Geralt grunted as it came free and oil dripped over Jaskier’s finger.
“Oh fuck you’re so hot,” Jaskier whispered, staring at his now slick hand. Geralt didn’t reply, he just ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, pulling his head back and their lips met in a desperate kiss. Jaskier moaned into the kiss as he coated his cock with the excess oil, and they both gasped as he finally pushed inside Geralt. “Oh fuck, Geralt!”
“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, his head rolling back and hitting the wall behind them.
Every thrust was sweet torture, Geralt’s arse hot and tight around his cock. The wall behind them creaked but neither of them paid it any mind, too lost in the feeling of each other. Geralt cursed loudly as Jaskier finally managed to hit his prostate, and he grinned as he continued to pound into the witcher, fuelled by the thrill of having Geralt trapped under him, a fearsome monster slayer lifted up by a humble bard, a delicate flower.
“Fuck, Jask…” Geralt panted against his lips, “I need”
“Touch yourself for me, love,” Jaskier gasped, his movements becoming erratic as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, but he wanted Geralt to cum whilst he was still inside him. Maybe they could even put that pretty plug back in once they were done. The thought made Jaskier moan, and he mouthed at Geralt’s neck, not breaking the skin but gods it was close.
Geralt shifted underneath him so he could touch his cock in between their bodies. Jaskier’s legs were beginning to shake and he was barely holding on, his orgasm threatening to pull him under with every movement. “That’s it, darling, you’re doing so good for me. Can you cum for me, love?” he half moaned in Geralt’s ear, struggling to get the words out but it was enough. Geralt groaned, his whole body shuddering as Jaskier managed two final thrusts before spilling into his witcher. It took all his strength not to collapse to the floor on the spot, but he’d been walking along side Geralt and Roach for decades. He had the muscles to prove it.
“So good for me,” he babbled, pressing kisses into Geralt’s neck as they caught their breath.
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varianthumanwizard · 3 years
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Critical Role Campaign 3 Character Predictions
I have no way of predicting what happens in these peoples heads, but this is just what I would love to see them try playing:
Laura Bailey- I think that Laura deserves to get to play the Rogue she's always dreamed of, but she's also the type of person who loves some spells, so either a race with some innate spellcasting like an Aasimar or Genasi or a subclass that gives her funky options, like a Soul Knife or an Arcane Trickster
Travis Willingham- Travis is often the secret mastermind behind the teams plans, so it could be fun seeing him play up his intelligence a bit more. I think playing an Artificer or a Bloodhunter would let him scratch that melee itch, while bumping up his Int. Race wise, I just wanna see Travis play something small, so maybe a nice Halfling or a Gnome
Liam O'Brien- I do not care what this man plays so long as it is happy! But in all seriousness, I would love to see Liam play a Charisma heavy character, specifically a Sorcerer or even a Bard, maybe as a Tiefling as a spirtual twin to a wonderful little Trickster cleric.
Sam Riegel- Cleric. Cleric Cleric Cleric Cleric. Not only would it be amazing to see Sam play a high Wisdom character after playing two pretty low wis characters. Additionally, Sam kills with spells and has never really played a divine character so I think that would be neat. In the opposite of Travis, I want Sam to play something big, so maybe a Firbolg, Goliath, or even Minotaur
Marisha Ray- I've been seeing a lot of people throwing around Paladin, and I can see it! Gets melee, a bit of healing, and a lot of damage, as well as being able to do things that no one should be capable of (How do you have a +4 to all saves? Dope Paladin Shit!) To compliment paladin maybe bring in something with inate spellcasting and charisma, so maybe a Triton, Tiefling, or even a Drow!
Ashley Johnson- Yasha has had heart eyes for Beau since day one, but Ashley's been eyeing that Monk class for just as long. I think Ashley really enjoys playing a martial character, but with a monk she'd get to flex those muscles while creating all kinds of shenanigans, especially if she picks Mercy Monk to compliment the melee with osme sick healing. Personally I'd like to see her play a Warforged, kind of the opposite of an Aasimar as it's created completely from mortal invention rather than the power of a god.
Taliesin Jaffe- The man, the myth, the legend, what can't he do! Honestly I've adored every kind of character Taliesin has come up with, but I'd love to see him play another full caster, maybe focusing on more of a blaster role as a Wizard. I think it's be neat for Talesin to play a smaller race like a Dwarf, but a Halfling or Goblin could be just as fun.
Suprise Bonus Character under the cut!
Mica Burton- Okay we have no official rumor that Mica might be joining campaign 3, but I heard someone mention it and I can't get it out of my head. I personally loved her as Reani and I think that if they wanted to expand the table she'd be a great addition. I think she's great in melee but she also appreciates some creativity and magic to throw in, so maybe a Gloomstalker Ranger or a maybe a Wild Magic Barbarian. A Pallid Elf would also be really cool to see if it continues in Exandria, and I'd love to learn more about them from Matt!
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