#what if they have broken. what if they lash out.

[mphountitled]

Poor thing ♡

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: When he's needy

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Non-Smut Submission, Fluff, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) Porn no plot, dumbification, Dom!Chan, Sub!Reader, dollification, ddlg, daddy Kink, Big Dick Chan, Breeding Kink

Idk how this happened. One moment I'm listening to Case 143, the next this exists

Chan’s soft, unguarded eyes follow every minuscule movement that your sleeping body produces while you lay in his arms. His eyes trace the shape of your dark lashes as well as the contours of your slightly open mouth. Perhaps, venturing into more sinister territory, Chan's eyes skate down to your frame nestled under his armpit, where you laid in a fetal position with your stuffed animal held in an almost primal grip. He's not sure when it happens, but the first beginnings of the guilt seep into his lower stomach, accompanied by another feeling that he doesn't really want to dissect.

The smile on Chan's face as he bends down to nestle his face in your headwrap is placid, like calm still waters on a Sunday afternoon. Doing a very good job at hiding the tempest within.

You stir in your sleep and Chan swallows thickly. With his lips still pressed against your head, He stares into space with a vague look of worry and discontent. He knows, logically, that he should not feel bad for his emotions. It was only human, after all, to feel sexual desire for your partner. What did not feel normal, however, is how he managed to grow impossibly hard in his sweatpants, and all you've done was sleep... you poor thing.

This time when you shift again, it's to hike your leg up further along his torso, and unbeknownst to you, a broken moan seeps out of Chan’s mouth because your leg was brushing right up against his tense and stimulated cock. Chan attempts to regulate his breathing through his nose (in and out, in and out) but his brain loses sight of how unethical this all is under the realisation of just how warm you are underneath him. The arm he had wrapped around your frame flexes as he brings his hand up to the curve of your voluptuous hips. It's then when he thinks about them… you having his kids, and suddenly, he's maneuvering you even closer into his arms.

“Are you okay?” Your groans perpetuate through the confines of the bedroom, and suddenly, you've just awoken from one of those ghastly kinds of naps. The kind of nap that existed outside space and time and everything else in the known universe. The kind of nap that had you groggily opened your eyes, crowded with crust as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

His voice is raspy as he whispers back, “I’m perfect, Bunny,” Everything in the universe begins to right itself when Chan presses a warm, slightly sloppy kiss to the top of your head and you can feel yourself coming to grips with your surroundings. A warm sigh leaves your mouth and you melt into the sensuality of Chan’s second kiss which he displays across the side of your face, moving lower and lower and hiking up your leg still splayed over his lap.

Chan’s eyes are closed, brows furrowed and his kiss is lingering. His lips never stray from your skin, and you can feel your limp, half asleep body being pressed further against his warmth. You're suddenly becoming all too aware of your core pressed against Chan’s hips at this angle; you and your boyfriend's limbs are practically entertained.

His warmth is all encompassing.

“Cha-What…” a sleepy little yawn squeaks out of your throat and you unconsciously bring a limp hand up to wipe away all the sleep. Chan watches you with grave, grave admiration. The kind of feeling that squeezes at his heart and, perhaps nore shamefully, his cock. “What time is it?”

“I don't think that's very important right now, is it?” Upon hearing the singsong lilt in voice, you blink up at your boyfriend who begins to come into focus under the hazy orange glow of the bedside table. Your body stretches ever so slightly as you crane your head up to meet eyes. “You don't need to worry your pretty brain about stuff like that,” he nudges his chin towards you as if beckoning to play along with this scen, he's orchestrated for the two of you. Despite feeling your heart strings tugging at the idea of playing along, you're still very much plagued by rationality.

“Chan- I think I need to leave- my roomate-”

“But pretty girls don't think,” he nestles his head into the crook of your shoulders and he squeezes and if begging you to play along, “You never have to think when you have me.”

You could feel the better part of you being dragged into the safe, plush wonderland of your subspace, just from his words alone. When Chan doesn't get a response, he pulls back to make eye contact with you once more, sickeningly satisfied to see the fog fill your pupils.

“But, Channie-”

“You still sound so tired, Baby,” he whispers, and you're quite shocked to find yourself being lifted off the bed, “You want Channie to help take away the tiredness, don't you?”

Chan is still lying supine on the bad as he brings you to straddle his legs. Your hands anchor yourself by the rough skin of his torso through his pitch black shirt while his hands find home on your thigh, “I need you to help me out and then you won't be tired anymore, Okay, Pretty Girl?” The smile he gives you is enough to get any person to bend to his every will and so you find yourself noddingly dumbly, with your eyes still half lidded, and a part of your brain experiencing a sleeplike calmness.

“Channie needs you to be good for him, okay?” You swallow thickly and yelp when Chan lofts his hips, subsequently lifting You as if you weighed nothing at all. His eyes are pained when he uncovers his hard, leaking dick from his sweatpants and your heart clenches in your chest. All traces of rationality are wiped from your brain leaving only a deep itch to enclose his cock in both your hands.

So that's what you do.

“Woah- fuck, Bunny- What're you doing?” Chan looks uo at you with wild, pained eyes and you peer down at him with a tilted head. Ever so clueless. Ever so beautiful, “I wanna help,” You whisper and his cock immediately twitches in your hand, “I wanna help,”

“Fuck, I reckon you're trying to kill me, you know that?” Chan grips your hips, immediately lifting you up with immense ease before having you hover directly over his aching cock that twitches to be inside you. “Daddy needs to be inside you, Bunny."

Chan clarifies all too slowly, as if you needed his words to properly sink in. "Your hands and mouth…” He speaks as he bends you forward, until your breasts were pushed against his chest, and he works To shift your underwear to the side, “They just won't do, baby. I need to fuck you, d'you understand?” he asks with so much concern and so much consideration it has your heart clenching in its cage. You nod slolwy, with a small, pursed smile on your face as Chan brings his face to yours. “You're so pretty you know that-”

“Chan- I'm scared,” you whisper, feeling your courage dissipate with the memories of the last time you tried to ride Chan filling your mind's eye. You barely made it 10 pumps before your legs were wary and your cunt was split into two. He sees these concerns now with your big wide eyes staring into his and he tsks, shaking his head.

“You'll do so good, Bunny. There's absolutely nothing to be afraid of, yeah?” The skoght troeidation in your eyes… The fear... it had Chan's cock only even more eager to slam into your cunt and fuck you with absolute wreckless abandom. He wanted to use you, he needed to make you his dumb, unresponsive toy and Chan shivers as a bead of precum streams down the side of your cock.

“You're gonna do well for me, ‘cus you always do well for me,” You're so focused on what he's saying, so focused you barely realize he's slowly lowering you onto his cock, “You don't wanna disappoint me, do you?”

A cute flash of alarm flits through your eyes, and Chris’ resolve snaps. “Wha- no- of course no-” your once calm and layered ckice cracks off into a broken, solent scream as Chan bring his hips up to slam his cock into your cunt. He keeps it there, head thrown back into the pillows as he releases a deep groan of his own. “F-Fuck Princess, I think I could cum like this,”

“Hurts,” is all you're able to whisper, “Channie-”

“But you're doing so well,” Chan's hands on your hips begin to guide you up and down his monstrous shaft and you felt as if you were being split in two. Being on top of him somehow felt like he was going deeper than how he usually went. “Oh God, you're so warm, Bunny,” He exclaims, looking up at you with his own pained expression, completely and utterly trapped in his domspace as he began to move you up and down on his cock. and your limp body followed, unable to conjure up the strength of your own movements. He had all the control over all your movements, kinda like-

“Youre my toy, arent you, Bunny?” Chan is so completely fargone as he watches your bottom lip quiver and your nails sink into the fabric of his tight shirt. The oain of those nails cutting through the fabric is enough to have him moaning ruggedly in the air as his hips stutter up to fuck you deeper. “Fuck, you’re my fucking toy,” Chan’s a blubbering mess and it only makes you wetter, “You like me deep inside, yeah? You like being split open like this, Don you, Bunny? Hm? You're so fucking perfect hou know taht? So fucking pretty- I need you to have my babies, yeah? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Us having babies.”

Your hips stutter against his, and your neck cranes up to the sky as you finally begin to ride Chan. His jaw is locked tight as you clench around him, “F-Fuck you would like that-”

“Oh God, Channie-”

“You need me to get you pregnant, don't you?” Your head nods almost unconsciously, without the permission of your rational brain and Chan’s speeds up his fucking into you, as he's orchestrating a new form of movement. He was always leading you, even when it came to his pleasure.

“Just like that, Bunny,” he always praised you without a second thought… and those words ran like molten lave down the pleasure sensories all over your body. You could feel the head of his cock prod at your cervix and that is when your legs began to give out underneath you. When you slump forward, Chan is working himself to orgasm with short, shallow breaths. His hips lift to thrust into your dripping cunt and in your mind you come to the fact that you really are his toy. All you are is a -

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum,” he whispers into the side of your head, “Your leaky fucking pussy's going to make me cum, Bunny-”

His orgasm triggers your own and both Your hips stutter as Chan releases his cum deep inside you. His hand clench down on your hips, forcing you to take in every single drop until it's forcing itself out of your dripping cunt by trailing down your thigh. After cumming, Christopher looks bright eyed again, like he's gotten rid of something very dark and very oppressive until the sunny Chan was back.

“So good,” he smiles down at you, “You always do so well for me”

#bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz smut #sk

[celestialwhoree]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝟔

You're not sure whether asking Nikto how he worked out what your favourite foods are is a good idea. Realistically, you know that men in his field are required to be perceptive, to pick out the smallest of details which may be useful later. He's been in your house so many times, in your fridge for a left over slice of pie, or the less that you can barely consider a garage to grab whatever tool he'd needed to fix your wobbly fencepost. On the one hand, his awareness of you, what you like and dislike, is comforting. It feels safe to have someone so constantly tuned in on your frequency. Safe. On the other? Having someone so impossibly attentive to your needs is unsettling. It's been far too long since you've had someone shadowing your day-to-day life - and Nikto is, undeniably, like a shadow.

The picnic is - it's really sweet. Well intentioned. The execution, admittedly is rudimentary, but you're just splitting hairs. A guy set you up a picnic after you practically sucked off his face in your kitchen. You're pretty sure most would've run had they felt the sheer reverence, the need in your kiss. He fixed your fence.

Now you're sat rather awkwardly beside one another, picking at a strange assortment of cheeses and fruits, making stilted conversation as you watch a herd of cows graze a couple of fields down.

"How did you know my fence was broken?" You hum in an absent, obvious attempt to keep the conversation going. Tough considering you barely know anything about Nikto, and yet he seems to know everything about you. Your weak endeavour towards filling the stillness between the two of you obviously doesn't go unnoticed - nor does the way your make an effort to dig deeper and see just how much of you Nikto actually catches.

"You hit it with your car a few weeks ago." He states bluntly, leaving you flushing a beet red. Foolishly, you'd always believed that your sub-par driving skills were just imagined, that no one saw you the way you saw yourself. Clearly, you've been wrong all along.

"You do have your drivers license, yes?" Nikto continues to chide, unable to help the way his blood rushes south when you blush, fluttering your lashes as you avert your gaze to the strawberry you'd been just about to eat. "Mhm." You mumble, trying to feign an indignant look - futile, seeing as he's already caught you in the act of your embarrassment.

"I can help you if you would like." Nikto utters, before he too turns his burning face towards the gingham blanket he'd found whilst trawling the grocery store in the small hours of this morning, trying to be as prepared as possible for your date. He's far too quickly become accustomed to your little quirks and reactions, the way you flinch like a frightened bunny from loud noises, or worry at your lip when you're nervous but still trying to seem nonchalant. You're hardly ever nonchalant about anything. He sees that too. "Is it the car that you struggle with?" He tries, so desperately, to claw himself from the hole he's seemingly fallen into, painfully aware that he's probably coming off as some condescending, patronising prick. He knows you can drive. Kind of. However, the thought of helping you, spending time with you, taking all of the menial tasks of daily life out of your hands, he can't help but to yearn for it. Or maybe it's just you. You're the one thing he finds himself wanting for after a life of solitude. You, your silly little shoes, and strawberry flavoured lips, your bows and pearls. You with a smile so bright it's blinding, and a laugh that could bring the cruelest of men to his knees. You are what he yearns for. The silver lining to the rainclouds which have so long darkened his days. You, you, you.

He doesn't even realise you'd been talking until you stop. Only, of course, to take the next best course of action towards capturing his attention, shuffling towards him until you're sat flush against his side, blinking up at him with a look that clearly suggests that you're asking for permission. The fact that he doesn't get hard right then and there is a miracle - though he's not sure if it's one that'll last. At least, not when you finally work up the guts to crawl up into his lap like a needy cat, searching for attention by any means possible. Last week he was barely refraining from tearing your clothes off and taking you on the counter in your kitchen. This is far more intimate. This is what he wants.

He wants to see the way your cheeks flush pink when his hands slide up your skirt, just enough to brush the calloused pad of his thumb over the delicate lace of your underwear. With bated breath, he wants to watch the way the late afternoon sun turns your hair into a halo of molten metal, cascading from the crown of your head in some glorious inferno.

The little sound of your breath hitching as he noses at your jaw is only the first nail in the cruelest of coffins, burying him alive under the crushing weight of his adoration for you. This, he thinks, this is what he's waited for. This is both his reward, and his punishment for the toil of his career, of his life. His reward, you, so sweet and soft in his lap, pliable as gold, glittering as the brightest of precious stones. Breaking you, breaking your pretty, trusting heart, is entirely out of the question. He'd rather shoot himself in the kneecaps. Walk headfirst into enemy territory and beg to be tortured. Step on a landmine. Any and all of it would be better than seeing you hurt.

Whilst he can't find the words for the way he adored you, he can most definitely find the actions.

Nothing, no man, has ever made you feel the way you do as Nikto eases you to lie back on the picnic blanket, hooking your knees over his shoulders. A kiss to your inner thigh. "I hope you don't mind people hearing, Princess. I intend to make you scream."

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #Nikto #cod nikto #Nikto x reader #nikto x y/n #nikto x f!reader #nikto x you #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #celestialwhoree #say goodnight n go

[green-eyedfirework]

Slade heard the shouting first.  Not many people ventured here, Slade had managed to secure himself a prime position in exchange for being one of the Arena’s best gladiators.  A cell that was more of an apartment, most all the luxuries he wanted, food and pretty slaves and good fights.  He’d killed the last master who’d ordered him to lose a match, and his new one had learnt that lesson well.

There was little more that he needed from life.  Talia knew that a content gladiator was a loyal one, and unlike her father, she’d cultivated that loyalty well.

“Please—Talia—stop—” a younger voice on the edge of desperation, and at least three sets of footsteps.  Slade straightened off the bench and moved towards the front of his cell.

“You know better than that, Richard,” Talia’s voice was coldly amused, “You lost a fight to one of mine, and the Arena voted life.  That means I own you now.”

“Bruce will buy me back!” the voice insisted stridently, “Talia, please—”

“I find myself not exceedingly fond of my beloved at this moment,” Talia said dismissively, “And you will serve far better as a gift.”

“No—”

The footsteps reached the front of his cell, the curtains drawn back to leave only open bars, and Slade watched as his owner stepped into view, poised and calculating as always.  “Slade,” Talia smiled, eyes dark and satisfied, “How are you today?”

“Well,” Slade replied noncommittedly, far more interested in the struggling figure pinned by two guards, “I didn’t realize I’d earned a gift.”

“This particular one fell into my lap,” Talia’s smile grew wickeder, “And I have no need for a gladiator that loses fights, so I might as well use him as a favor.”  That was when the struggling figure jabbed an elbow into the stomach of the guard to his left and made a break for it.

Unfortunately for him, the guard recovered quickly, and made a sharp swing of his staff at the bandages that wound down one leg.  The unfortunate gladiator crumpled with a strangled shriek.

“Come now, Richard,” Talia said, her expression twisted with distaste, “At least try to lose gracefully.”  The guards yanked the limp figure off the ground and dragged him closer to the bars, and the spark of interest at the familiar name coalesced into sharp coldness at the sight of tan skin and dark hair.  Locks of it draped across that bowed face, as though Slade wouldn’t be able to recognize the man that had killed his son.

Talia read the simmering fury across his face.  “He’s yours,” she said softly, watching him, “To do with what you wish, for however long you wish to keep him.  His fate is yours.”

Richard Grayson made a barely perceptible sound.

Talia moved forward to unlock the cell and waited as the guards dragged Grayson closer before snagging the young gladiator’s chin.  “Your master needs a reminder on what happens when he spites me,” she murmured, “Your body will do quite nicely.”

Slade couldn’t see what Grayson did or said, but he saw Talia’s fingers tighten, nails biting into skin, before she let go and stepped aside to let the guards throw Grayson inside the cell.

Slade didn’t move.  Not as the guards retreated and Grayson pushed himself up to standing.  Not when Grayson pressed himself back against the bars, fingers tightened into fists as the click of the lock echoed in finality.  Not as footsteps receded, out of sight and out of hearing, as the beaten gladiator cowered in the corner.

Grayson looked gray.  His expression was fractured and his clothes were dusty and torn and he had one arm pressed to his chest in a way that indicated either an injured arm or broken ribs.  Possibly both.  The other arm was tensed, ready to lash out, despite him wavering on his feet.  One leg had bandages from calf to thigh.

More than all that, he looked small.  Exhausted and trembling and gaunt, like someone recovering from an illness, nothing like the snatches of the golden favorite of the Arena that Slade caught from time to time.  Not too many, no one was stupid enough to let Slade and Grayson in the same room, and especially not the kid’s previous master, but Slade remembered watching his son bleed out on the Arena sands as a sweaty, bloodstained, gleaming young gladiator lifted his dual swords to a wave of cheers that shook the entire stadium.

It wasn’t something he could forget.

“Who knew that the little bird would fall,” Slade said, low and cold, stalking out of the shadows.  Grayson pressed further into the corner but there was nowhere to go, blue eyes flitting around the cell like something would save him.  “You must’ve heard the story of the boy who flew too close to the sun.”

“Slade,” the kid’s voice was passably level, eyes wide and locked on him, “I—I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” Slade arched an eyebrow, “Sorry that you killed my son?  Sorry that you built a career that started by defeating the Ravager?  I didn’t see regret when you stood over my son’s cooling corpse, I saw triumph.”  Grayson swallowed, expression fracturing further.  “You’re only sorry that you’re locked in here with me.”

“Slade—”

He didn’t give Grayson a chance to spout off pretty words—apparently he had a talent for being charming, a talent for making friends.  There were a group of them, young, puffed-up gladiators, that fought on the sands like it was their own.  Excellent, trained fighters.  And cocky and arrogant to boot.

Slade had always hoped for the chance to meet Grayson on the sand.  To have the fight he’d been itching for for years.

This was almost as good.

Grayson ducked at Slade’s telegraphed punch, pushing off the bars and twisting past Slade to stumble deeper in the cell.  Slade turned to follow him, noting his unsteadiness and adjusting his speed accordingly.

The fun was in playing with his food before he destroyed it.

Grayson was talented.  With dual short swords in his hands, and preternatural flexibility, he had gone undefeated for years.  He was masterful at twisting out of the way of strikes, all speed and deadly grace, and even with an injured leg he kept his balance well.

But he was unarmed, his right arm was clearly paining him, and he’d looked ready to drop even before the fight had started.  Even drawing it out, it wasn’t long before Slade grabbed his wrist from a poorly executed punch, and wrenched.

The kid went down with a choked gasp, clutching his shoulder as he landed hard on his knees.  Slade gave him three seconds before slamming a kick into his side—the kid made a harsh, punched-out sound and toppled over.

“Pathetic,” Slade noted, standing over the panting young gladiator, “The golden Nightwing, lying broken in the dust.  A fitting legacy of a boy that tried to fly too high, too fast.”

Grayson set his expression into a snarl and tried to lever up.  Slade ground a foot into the bandaged leg and Grayson collapsed with a strangled sound, trying to claw away.

“If only Grant could see you now,” Slade murmured, “He had a talent for humiliating his opponents.”  What his son could’ve done with a broken bird at his feet—but Grant had been cocky, and Grayson had been smart, and Slade had to watch from the stands as his son gurgled out his last breaths.

Grayson stared up at him with a facade of defiance, half-curled up on the ground.  “Spare me the monologue and just kill me already,” the kid snapped, his snarl unable to hide the waver in his tone, “There isn’t an audience to entertain here.”

Cute.  Slade would take great pleasure in watching that break.

“No, there isn’t,” Slade agreed, and reached down to haul Grayson to his feet and shove him back into the center of the room.  “There’s no one to entertain here.”  He smiled, slow and sharp.  “Just me and you.”

The mask of defiance cracked, and for a moment, the only thing in Grayson’s eyes was terror.

#my snippets #sladick #gladiator au

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 2,9k words | warnings: mentions of domestic violence | masterlist

His senses are numb. The past minutes have become a blur. Beron dismissed them, denied them a healer, and, under the threat of using more of his power against them, chased them away from the Forest House. 

Eris feels broken on the inside, even more than he was before this day. And he feels remorse. Cenka, his loyal spy, is somewhere in the dungeons, wounded, in pain, dying and he brought this upon her. He let her get hurt. He let his little brother get hurt. 

Eris moans when Kallax urges him to go faster. The two brothers have been holding each other up while stumbling outside, almost like they were young boys again and their father had punished them for something silly and they ran away from the Forest House, seeking shelter from his rage somewhere within the forest. 

They are heading into the forest, trying to get as far away from Beron as possible with both of them wounded and broken. They couldn’t stay there, or anywhere close to the Forest House, it could have ended terribly... 

A trail of agony is left behind on Eris’ skin in the form of open wounds. He loses track of time, of space, of everything except the relentless onslaught of suffering. It hurts so much, every small part of his chest and arm, and his soul. It bleeds. 

He can’t believe his father still uses his firepowers on him – the lashes, the faebane, he took it all, but the firepowers? The powers of a High Lord…this was too much even for Eris to take.  

Kallax helps his brother lower himself to the ground, his wounded knees touching the dewey moss first. He braces his hands in front of them, Kallax’s hand resting atop his back. “This fucking asshole,” Kallax growls, swallowing a sob. 

Eris is bent over, his back bowing from all the pain he is feeling, all the wounds still fresh and open whereas on Kallax’ body some already start to heal and seal. “He deserves to die, painfully and slowly. Eris, do you hear me?” Kallax pats his older brother on the back. “You need to end this.”

“I…” The oldest Vanserra brother’s voice is a bit muffled, due to saliva and blood mingling in his mouth. Before he continues, he spits onto the ground, then stiffens his spine so he can look at his younger brother. “I will end it. I will make him bleed.”

Eris shoves his hands harsher into the ground, knuckles turning white, crunching dirt and pine needles between his fingers. “For what he has done to all of us, I will make him suffer.”

Kallax growls in approval, patting Eris on the back one last time (obviously careful of the wounded skin) before climbing to his feet. “I’m not sure…but I can leave you?” he rasps, voice full of uncertainty and remorse. 

“Where are you going?” Eris asks in an equally husky voice, turning his head so far that it doesn’t hurt, but he can see his brother. 

“To her. I need to see if he...if he did anything to her.”

Eris understands without Kallax offering any more explanation – he knows where his brother is going. To his forest-Nymph.

His expression softens with gratitude when he takes in his brother’s face. Kallax all of a sudden looks so much younger, so much more breakable but nevertheless strong, and fierce. 

"Thank you," Eris murmurs to his younger brother, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between them. 

A cool breeze rustles through the branches, making goosebumps appear on Eris’ skin when he repeats his words. “Thank you, Kallax.”

His brother only nods. “Will you be fine, Eris?” He straightens up and brushes his hands down his thighs. “Can I leave you alone?”

Eris assures him that he will be fine. He won’t keep his younger brother here, not when out there there is someone who will take care of him and tend to his wounds. He should go see her, and be safe with her. As far away from their father and his wrath as possible. No longer within his reach and his fury. 

“I will take care of myself,” Eris assures his younger brother, his voice soft but determined, despite the pain he feels. Like I have done my whole life, he leaves unsaid.

Eris notices the uncertainty in Kallax's expression and looks at him steadily, showing both strength and honesty in his gaze. “I will be fine, you can believe me.” 

His younger brother inclines his head, then rolls back his shoulders. He pins Eris with a look. “I just want you to know that you can count on me.” Kallax drags in a deep breath, the lift of his chest visible causing him pain. “I said it before, Eris, you are my brother. Whatever happened between us… we share the same blood and you…can always count on me.” He gives him one more glance over his shoulder and then he is gone. Winnowed away, hopefully to his nymph who will take care of him. 

Eris sends a silent prayer to the Mother to keep his little brother safe and then he lets the pain reach the surface. He allows the hurt to show, knowing that his little brother no longer has to witness it. A cry of agony parts his lips and his arms give in, the whole extent of the pain that Beron caused him hitting him with full force then.

He cries out and pain pulses through him when he slumps to the ground. 

Eris lies on the damp grass, bloodied and battered, his chest marked by burns and scars. The thoughts of his brother and their father's cruel actions weigh heavy on his mind, filling him with a mixture of anger and agony. Beron hurt Kallax and he wasn’t there to stop it. Beron hurt Cenka, and will continue to hurt her unless gets to save her. He has to heal. He has to fight for her.

He can't shake the overwhelming guilt that gnaws on him. Each wound marring his skin is a painful reminder of his failure to protect the people who mean everything to him. His brothers. His mother. His loyal spy.

Anger simmers beneath the surface, a flame fueled by fury and pain. He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms and he grinds his teeth. He won’t ever let anyone suffer again. This has to end. It has to end now. 

This evening Beron won, but it was the very last time. 

With each laboured breath he sucks in, he gains strength to fight for redemption, for justice and freedom within this court. For himself, for his brothers and for his mother.  

Eris finds himself drifting between consciousness and oblivion, but his goal has never been clearer before. Once he is healed, he will make him pay. He will end Beron’s reign. He will end his father!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Tamlin may have caused a lot of damage but he won’t support Beron.” Nesta places her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. 

“You don’t know that, girl,” Amren cuts in, narrowing her brows. “He is unpredictable. We can’t trust anyone from another court – safe for Varian.”

“We can’t trust anyone else?” Nesta throws back. “We can trust Eris.”

Azriel shifts a little at the mention of Eris’ name. He has been standing at the door for a while, not moving an inch or saying a single word, just observing. He watches Amren’s expression closely, hoping to see what she truly thinks there. And if she truly mistrusts Eris. Azriel tightly tucks in his wings when he approaches Rhysand’s desk around which the others are crowded. His scarred hands are folded behind his back, his demeanour unreadable despite the rising curiosity within him. 

“No.” Amren’s answer is so matter-of-factly, so cold, Azriel’s mouth almost falls open. Why would Amren think they can’t trust Eris?

Azriel internally thanks Nesta because she says, “Eris might be cruel and mean, but we can count on him. We can trust him. We are in this together with him, we have the same goal, we want the same for Prythian.”

“What if he wants to become High King of Prythian?”

“He doesn’t entertain this thought,” Rhysand finally says and rises from his chair, his broad hands now braced on the table beneath him. He slowly inclines his head to look on a stack of papers on the right side of the table, then languidly taps his finger against the dark wooden surface. “There was no thought of this in his mind.”

“He probably wouldn’t let you see it if he thought about claiming this position, boy.” Amren throws Rhysand a look, almost in a reprimanding way, but he gives his head a shake. 

“His goal is Autumn and courts that are united, that work together and support each other.” His spine straightens and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Azriel wants to inform them about Beron’s plans with Koschei, which Eris shared with him, but Nesta beats him to it. She reaches for Cassian’s arm, curls it around her middle and says, “Eris is not Beron and I think it is finally time for all of us to understand this.” 

She looks at Rhys first, then at Azriel who offers her no answer. Also no reaction. He only looks at her, and then his features soften the slightest bit. Especially when Cassian speaks up as well. 

“You all know how much I hate Eris, probably even more than Az does,” the general chuckles, “but my mate is right. We only know one version of Eris, the version he wants us to and everyone else to see. And I agree that we should and can trust him.” His arm tightens around Nesta, but this time Azriel doesn’t look away. He looks at them, and sees their love and doesn’t feel envious. He allows himself to happy for them… 

And with this realisation, that he is not bad and doesn’t grant his brothers their happiness, he fixes his posture, now standing tall, his shadows calm around him and then opens his mouth.

“Beron is planning on a meeting with him. Eris informed me that his goal is to destroy Day and Night first, and then march all over Prythian; all of that with the help of Koschei. And Keir,” Azriel says in a loud and steady voice.

Silence blankets the room.

“Keir…” Rhysand breathes, but seems once again speechless afterwards.

Azriel wants to confirm Keir’s name, but he can’t. He suddenly feels a sharp pain pierce through the left side of his body. He doesn’t let it show, only shifts so his hand is holding onto the elbow of the other. Maybe it is heart, reacting to his lack of sleep, or he hasn’t drunk enough today, or his training was too hard the past days… 

Once the silence is interrupted by Cassian’s loud “Fuck!”, chatter and discussions begin about what Azriel has just revealed. But the shadowsinger is no longer able to really listen or pay attention. He bounces his foot when the pain increases. He is confused about where it comes from, what causes the pain. It is not directly in his heart it is…in his soul. 

His breathing quickens and he untangles his arms, bringing one hand up to rub over the back of his neck. 

“This is exactly what Eris told you?” he hears Rhys ask and can only nod in answer. The pain is so damn strong, he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. Sweat starts to break out on his forehead and Azriel stumbles backwards. Pain scrapes through his whole body making him wince internally. 

Azriel drops his hands, clenching and unclenching them, his heart rapidly beating. A breath whooshes out of him. He folds a hand over his heart and takes another step back, slumping against the chair. “I need a moment,” he tells no one in particular but all eyes shoot to him. 

“Az?” Cassian carefully asks, moving closer to his brother and placing his hand atop his shoulder. 

Azriel? What is going on? Rhysand asks him mind-to-mind.

“I just need a moment,” the shadowsinger repeats when the pain within his chest only increases, it has spread out through his entire body and hurts so damn much; almost like flames burn through his veins, setting his whole body on fire.

But it can’t be…it can’t be fire that causes him this pain, unless– 

A wail pierces through ear drums and he knows exactly who this voice belongs to. Azriel’s Illyrian leathers stick to his skin from how much he is sweating by now. His shoulders curl forward, caving in his chest. 

Between quick shallow breaths, Azriel manages to say, “I’m sorry, I think I need to go home now. I’m not feeling well. I feel a little…dizzy.”

“We won’t let you leave like this, Az,” Nesta is quick to cut in, crouching down in front of Azriel, her hands resting on his left knee. “You really don’t look well. You think you caught something?” 

He wants to tell them. He wants to tell them so badly, but he can’t. First and foremost, because he has no time. He has to go to the Autumn Court now. He can’t stay here a moment longer. He has to leave and check on Eris. He has to find out what is causing the Autumn Court male this pain, but he already guesses that he knows the answer. Beron. 

Azriel has no doubts that this pain comes from Eris. They are connected through a fucking mating bond, and there is no more denying it. His want and need stems from this bond. He wants Eris because of this bond, and now he is going insane with panic and terror because someone hurt his mate. Not someone. Beron hurt his mate. And he has to find him now. 

It could be a trap but he has to be reckless, he can’t sit here and pretend nothing is happening. He can’t shove the damn bond away. 

“I think so. I must have caught something,” Azriel murmurs, and lifts his chin to look into Nesta’s eyes. She can see the lie in Azriel’s hazel ones, but only bows her head. “I guess you should lay down and rest then. Sleep always helps me,” she tells him and Azriel nods. 

Azriel’s heart is racing when he pushes up onto his feet. “I’m really fine, I just need rest,” he assures Cassian who grimaces at him. “Lack of sleep and too little food today…nothing tragic,” he lies and bows into Rhysand’s direction, his mental shields tightly sealed. “Inform me tomorrow about what you discussed when I was absent.”

Rhys says nothing, only tips his head in answer. He also doesn’t believe his brother but he also doesn’t try to stop him. The cold between them hasn’t faded yet, there is still a lot to talk about. 

The moment Azriel is outside, the cool air wraps around him like a snowstorm. He unfolds his wings and allows himself to roar with the ache all throughout his body. Then he takes off and shadow-winnows the rest of the way.

This is reckless and completely foolish, but this is what the bond makes you turn into. A reckless fool with only your mate in mind, and all kind of rationality having left you. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

His booted feet touch the ground and a thump hollows through the empty and dark forest. Azriel’s heart shatters when he feels the whole extent of Eris’ pain. The shorter distance between them must have enhanced the feeling. It knocks the life out of his soul and in his mind there is nothing but fear and terror. And confusion. 

He has never allowed himself to entertain the thought of them truly being mates, that the feeling within his chest is really the bond, but now there is no denying anymore.

He and Eris Kian Vanserra are fucking mates, and no one, not even the Mother and the Cauldron can change this. 

Azriel drags in sharp breath. The shadows and mist are like a curtain around him, making it hard for him to see, but the goal is clear: he has to find Eris within the next few minutes.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

[ask-runaan-anything]

I feel like when tiadrin and lain get out of the coin it's gonna be angsty as hell.

Like imagine having to leave your little girl to do your job and when you see her again she isn't little anymore. She's grown- she has her own things now and imagine the. Amount of memories And sweet moments you misses because you were away for so long.

I don't know what state we will be in when we are freed, little shadow, but there are many fates worse than coming back sad.

Moon willing, that is all we'll have to suffer with.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #angst #what if they have begun to shred. or fade. #what if they cannot speak. what if they can only cry. #what if they have broken. what if they lash out. #nothing good comes from torturing souls

[lesbiradshaw]

blah blah blah something about bradley shoving a hand at jake’s chest to push him away during a moment of provoked grief and anger blah blah blah something about that connecting to the moment at the end of the film where jake taps his hand over bradley’s heart right after he’s saved his life and they’ve taken the first steps towards peace with each other

#me when i (35m) have severe abandonment issues and give my nemesis (??m) a callsign that refers to his habit of up and leaving people behind #i have like. an essay in my notes app about their possible exes to lovers dynamic and why they would have broken up the first go round #and i will not stand for everyone just blaming bradley like Yes he pushes people away and lashes out but lbr… #jake is abrasive ON PURPOSE when hes trying to make a point so even if he is being pushed away. hes just gonna push back #and that is quite literally represented in their fight scene where he may not physically shove bradley back #but he doesnt back down either (ie: continuing to claim bradley cant fly the mission aka his initial point under the goading ab goose&mav) #i want to study these two under a microscope they are so interesting to me… #that moment when you a person w abandonment issues come across a person w commitment issues & discuss how to best maximize ur joint slay #sereshaw #hangster #no one jump me for talking to myself in the tags its what i do best

[broodygaming]

Gods that scene where Catra, in S3 "Remember", holds onto Adora and says "stay with me" just breaks my heart. Her hesitation in asking Adora what she wants. Her full, complete buy in of this "perfect" reality. Not perfect because of that power she's always saying she wants, heck, Adora is succeeding in CATRAS perfect reality, in their shared perfect reality. It's perfect because... Adora stayed. She stayed. For once in her life she stayed. Except she doesn't. Even here... she leaves.

#she ra and the princesses of power #spop #and like yadadadadada what catra has done here is bad and it's all sad and all that stuff #but like we're not talking deep interpersonal consequences we're talking broad stroke storytelling motifs #and this one is chefs kiss #like it just hit me that catra (power wise) gets severely downgraded in her PERFECT REALITY and adora is like mid manager #and that's it that's all they wanted #to not be under shadoweavers boot to have some autonomy and to be together #LOW BAR IS SO SAD #to not be left behind AGAIN #gods every time I watch this I relate more and more to catra #the impulse to burn down your bridges before they hurt you #so you say fuck them all and isolate isolate isolate lashing out at anyone who comes near #but all ive ever learned from love is how to shoot at somebody who outdrew you #and it's not a cry you hear at night it's not somebody who's seen the light... it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

[layzeal]

bro is it me or people don’t really understand why lwj received the 33 lashes

#im looking at the lastest wangxianficrecs post and like #someof them have it be ''it's an au where lwj fell in love with wy and received the 33 lashes and punishment'' or smth like that #AND I'M JUST.... GUYS #DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT LWJ DID??? #and it's even worse when people try to paint gusu lan as being cruel and unreasonable for it. GUYS #what lan wnagji did was treason. you know what a common punishment for treason was? lingchi (death by a thousand cuts) #LWJ knew exactly what he was risking when he saved WWX and attacked his own elders. HE KNEW. AND HE WAS WILLING ANYWAY!! #don't underestimate his devotion!!! LWJ KNEW HE COULD BE EXECUTED AND HE DID IT ANYWAYS #and honestly. if he was ANYONE other than hgj he would have been. the whole reason the elders were attacked #is because they were trying to bring him back before the cultuivation world found out about his betrayal #EXACTLY SO HE WOULDNT GET EXECUTED #his response was to turn around and commit treason against his own family and the ppl who were trying to save him! #AGAIN. DONT UNDERESTIMATE HIS DEVTION AND WHAT HE WAS WILLING TO SACRIFICE #Gusu Lan could 100% have executed him for it in the most cruel way. it's what hgj was likely expecting #if not that then AT THE VERY LEAST they would have broken his core and exiled him (another common punishemnt for treason in xianxia) #WWX wonders like 3 times in the novel what terrible mistake lwj could have made that t made him be ounished with the lashes #and why if it was so terrible they didnt just kill for it #the thing is that THEY SHOULD HAVE. but they didnt #WWX IS HORRIFIED AT THE LENGHTS LWJ WENT TO SAVE HIM. NOT AT ''ooooh the lans were sooooo mean for this'' #LWJ commited treason against the cultivation world and against his clan. and was still able to cultivate and rise above and maintain his #reputation. DO PEOPLE NOT SEE WHAT BIG OF A DEAL THIS IS???? #LWJ WHOULD HAVE DIED. HE WAS WILLING TO. HE WAS WILLING TO BE BANISHED WITH A BROKEN CORE AND RUINED REPUTATION #''if he made such a great mistake that was whipped to an inch of his life then why didnt they just kill him for it'' #bro because that was still their second jade. because that was lwj. they didnt want to kill him even after all that #ANYONE ELSE would have been #sorry word essay but i'm just ????? PEOPLE ARE FANDOM BRAINROTTED I TSG #modao #lace speaks

[byanyan]

@quick-drawn sent:ㅤ⚡ an angry text. 👀

texting promptsㅤㅤ.・。.・ㅤㅤaccepting!!

[sms: yee yee mf]ㅤfuck u [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤu dont know me [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤand u sure as shit dont get to know me just bc ur close w lena [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤi dont need ur concern [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤi dont need ur help [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤi don't need u fighting my fights for me [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤand i dont fuckin need u calling lena about my shit [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤif i want her to know about smth ILL tell her [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤthats my fucking choice not urs [sms: yee yee mf]ㅤgo fuck urself

#quick drawn #━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ ANSWERED: IC ⋮ I AM A VULTURE THAT FEEDS ON PAIN. #━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ VERSE: MODERN ⋮ COME ON UP / BRING THE PAIN. #proceeds to block his number so he can't even try to defend himself #have i mentioned that byan struggles even more in learning to trust men? yeah cass has to battle his way through that too (': #point is byan is even more inclined to lash out at him over just about anything #even when it's undeserved #in this case i like to imagine he called lena like 'hey kid came in with what looked like a couple broken fingers u might wanna check in' #or smth along those lines. and the moment lena tries to get in touch byan's just like 'oH GOOD WE GOT A TATTLETALE ON OUR HANDS' #very overdramatic and unnecessarily aggressive. i'm so sorry. he doesn't deserve this lmao

[ridingthatd]

choso stare at you confused, like a broken puppy once you tell him you're to tired to have sex with him, his desperate eyes searching for yours as you avoid to make eye contact. it always happens, choso would give you those innocent puppy eyes, desperately begging you, resuring you that he's gonna be gentle this time just for him to fuck you like a dog in heat, leaving you cum filled and with an overly abused, bruised pussy but he wouldn't stop there he would use his tongue to "calm" your puffy pussy down as he says, gripping you by the hips and holding you down as he suckle on your clit just the way he lash on your nipples.

but this time he wouldn't have his way with you, you sigh as you lay down next to choso. you can feel his pleading eyes on you but you ignore it drifting off to sleep. you blink your sleep away as you start feeling something moving followed with low mutters. your breath hitch as you see a sweaty choso standing by your bed with his throbbing fat cock out beating it close to your face, he was holding his shirt up with his teeth as he stands there with his cock out stroking it , you can feel the hottness of his cock fanning against your face.

"mm, fuck! just a bit- just a bit more" he whines, hips shuddering as he starts going faster, eyes clenched closed, his red sensitive tip leaking. once your widen eyes meet his, his eyes rolls back to his skull- abs clenching before he starts shooting his warm seeds on your face with grunts after grunt. you can feel his hot cum dripping down your lips. once choso realize what he just did he immediately go on his knees apologizing, telling you how crazy he felt without your pretty little pussy.

#choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #x reader #choso kamo #tw noncon

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

#look I don’t know anything about Joe or even Taylor for that matter #and no idea what they were dealing with privately both individually and together #but songs like renegade and YLM paint a very clear picture to me only because my aforementioned parent has similar behaviours and struggles #and it’s so easy to say that you need to stand by your loved ones through their struggles because that’s what love and family is about #but it is SO hard to be exposed to some of this stuff on a never ending basis #especially when the presentation of the illness or divergence is anger/resentment/lashing out #and taking it without fighting back and constantly reminding yourself and them that you know it’s not Them but the Illness is exhausting #because you can love someone wholeheartedly but be absolutely broken inside #because it is SO painful to bear and to just take it #and even if you know it’s not always personal and it’s just how whatever it is manifests #and that they can’t help the way their brain is wired #it just hurts SO much to take it in and realize your own feelings will never matter as much #because they aren’t capable of understanding it in the moment #so you constantly have to be the bigger person and fighting only in their army and being the bravest soldier #but you know inherently that it only goes one way so you have to guard yourself from being vulnerable yourself #I’m just saying that if Taylor was going through anything resembling what I go through with my parent #I have so so so much empathy for her #and I’m so happy for her that she managed to choose herself and realize that it wasn’t ever going to sway back #sigh I’m just in my feelings tonight #and I know the flip side is that in my case my parent would say that no one understands them and they constantly feel under attack #and isolated and alone and in pain #and it’s just a vicious cycle because I know they are their own worst critic and hate themself and that is so so so hard to watch #but it’s just an unfortunate situation where their needs and my needs will just never be met by one another

[yourtamaki]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind. 

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.” 

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets. 

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?” 

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to. 

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

[tired-biscuit]

i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

#he’s such a cutie pie sweetie honey bebi sweetheart!!!!!!! #i love him soooo much #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuji smut #yuji x reader #itadori smut #biscuit drabbles

[thecatspasta]

Inspired by @arrgh-whatever's post on helping ppl with BPD

Edit bc I forgot to add this: Being vulnerable means smth different for different ppl, something that could read as being vulnerable to you can read as just another Tuesday for someone else

[ID: a simply-drawn comic, narrated by a person coloured-in in pink.

Panel 1: The pink person narrates: "So there's a lot of "signs your ex is a narcissist and how to deal with them" and it's not very accurate. So here's how to actually "deal" with a narcissist from someone with narcissistic personality disorder."

Panel 2: This panel has the heading: "1. Supply." The pink person narrates: "People with NPD have very fragile self-esteem, and supply is what keeps us from having a mental breakdown. Supply can be many things, but often attention and praise are effective. Stuff like "Wow! That's super cool!!" can go a long way." A person is shown saying this to another person, who smiles.

Panel 3: This panel has the heading: "2. Criticism." The pink person narrates: "Oh boy. So narcissists take things as personal very easily. It's because if anyone contradicts our delusions that we have built our entire self-image on, it feels like you are attacking us as a person." There is an example shown, where one person says "hey, you were a bit too rude back there," but the other person hears "You're an awful dick no-one likes." The alternative manner of phrasing is suggested as "Hey, you were a bit too rude. You're cool, but some people took it poorly." The second person in this example thinks "I'm still a cool person. It's not my fault, but I can do things to be better." The narrator continues, "We don't really understand the concept of a harmless mistake."

Panel 4: This panel has the heading: "3. Boundaries." The pink person narrates: "With narcissists, setting down strict boundaries is very important. 1. Knowing we have hurt you because you didn't set down boundaries can really upset and annoy us because the delusions that we can do no wrong and know you best get broken. 2. If you let us break boundaries, it can lead us to see you as "weak" and devalue you. Communication is key."

Panel 5: This panel has the heading: "4. Anger." The pink person narrates: "So people with NPD tend to be prone to anger. This is a defense mechanism, because to us, it's either facing the inaccuracies of our delusions and having a mental breakdown, or blaming something else. We do not mean to lash out; we just don't have the skills to cope properly. You can help by: 1. Letting us express out emotions without judgement; 2. giving us praise or attention; and 3. Distracting us from what angered us." Each example of how to help is accompanied by a small cartoon.

Panel 6: This panel has the heading: "5. Other NPD things!" The pink person narrates: "'Love bomb, devalue, discard' is actually: we are genuinely obsessed with you and want you to recognize us as cool, we lose that obsession and move on, we feel threatened in some way and lash out. We can't really handle being seen as vulnerable. We take sympathy and empathy as pity and pity as you telling us we're weak. Not acknowledging we're being vulnerable and acting as if nothing is wrong can be helpful in these situations. People with NPD have a very warped view of reality. We do not mean to hurt you and often do not realise we have. Remember, this won't work for everyone, and talking is very important."

/end ID]

Ty to @aromanticsky for the id

#garlic breath #pasta scribbles #mental health #mental health awareness #npd safe #actually narcissistic #actually npd #narcissistic personality disorder #npd #actually mentally ill #actually neurodivergent #mental illness #neurodivergent #art #my art #cluster b #cluster b safe #npd info #cluster b info #cluster b awareness

[sakkiichi]

COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

#astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #neuvillette x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact x y/n #neuvillette x you #childe x you #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #xiao x you #albedo x you #kaeya x you #genshin impact scenarios #childe x reader fluff #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #xiao x reader fluff #albedo x reader fluff #kaeya fluff #genshin impact

[anantaru]

imagine blade or (and 🤭) jing yuan getting jealous n insecure and smothering you with their love so you don’t leave them :(

cw. jelly boys, rough, fem! reader

jealous blade who fucks you like you're the person he absolutely loathes the utmost— when in reality he loves and treasures you so much, and he doesn't trust the people around you, he thinks they would turn you away from him.

it's scary, yes, that's what it was and it's playing in his mind on repeat, like a broken record and blade was truly frightened, always having his broad, defined arms around you tight while he fucks into your little hole, splitting your pussy with his large cock, slender fingers working on your breasts to stimulate you until your body was twitching against his locked hold.

the shaft of his cock was entirely webbed in your liquids and it continued to ooze out of you when he rushes himself forward, throwing his head back as you moan out his name from the stretch on your cunt.

"you're mine, you're mine, you're mine.."

blade says, over and over, he has to let you know— and he's so impossibly warm on you, secured, and so adorable as he clings to you. thus, your heart was aflame, not being aware what he'd do with the people he saw as a clear threat.

jealous jing yuan who doesn't fuck you hard and messy until you practically beg for it, with salty tears drizzling down your doused lashes— in fairness, it's you who made him experience jealousy for the very first time in your relationship, the least you could do now was handle a little bit of his teasing or leaving him to have his almost cruel ways with you.

it's fun, he promises, biting down lightly on your earlobe while not including that it's only fun for him.

jing yuan probes into you softly, but does not thrust, only letting you feel the crevices of his girth, the pulsing and aching on his reddened erection, especially the thick, heavy vein right on the underside of his shaft, how it twitches and scratches your walls, bulges into you until you feel full and ready for him.

but, you know, good enough for now yet jing yuan still doesn't move.

you moan out together, his smirk showing you first signs of both confusion and irritating, and you look at him with a scattered gaze, awaiting something, just anything, but shudder in your skin when he stills himself entirely, moving forward to kiss your lips.

"just so you know." he chastises, inch by torturous inch beginning to move as you envelope him, jing yuan needed this really badly right now, the warmest and most intimate embrace.

"i wasn't *really* jealous today, only a little."

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