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prettyboykatsuki · 2 days

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chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

#noncon cw #dark content cw #writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #my god....\

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mechaknight-98 · 2 days

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Do you dream of armageddon (NSFW) FT Eunha

Authors note: shoutout to @coldfanbou for introducing me to her he has excellent taste. Featuring “cameos” from other writers as well. Story spoilers ahead for The raid: salvation’s edge and the last story mission Excision!!!!!!!!

“Come on, Crash! We’re going to miss the movie!” Eunha exclaimed, tugging the massive Awoken Titan along with her. The two Guardians were basking in a rare moment of peace after the Witness had been defeated. The cost of their victory hung in the air, but the sheer joy of living another day more than made up for it. As they approached the theater, they saw the Warlocks, Libra-5, and Aeri, already there. The Exo and Human smiled brightly, noticing the bandages that still adorned Crash—a proud testament to his recent battles. The usually stoic Titan radiated warmth today, his sense of relief contagious among the group. Together, they walked into the theater where the last of their raid team, Sayo-8, and Hasuel, waited.

“Perfect! You made it!” Sayo-8, the Awoken Warlock, exclaimed happily. She had worried that “the problem child” Crash wouldn’t show up, but ever since the Witness’s defeat, he had been more lively and engaging. He had even gotten a few tattoos to commemorate their victories, which had surprised everyone. The group reminisced about when Eunha first brought him in—tirelessly raiding legendary lost sectors and perfecting exotics to confront the Witness and Savathûn. When he first joined them, he helped defeat Rhulk, then Nezarec, and finally all three aspects of the Witness. Eunha was proud and grateful for all he had done, as was the rest of the group.

The movie was a celebration in itself—a Golden Age film starring a familiar face, Aeri’s Titan friend Yu, who played a girl with a rocket-powered fist. Laughter and cheer filled the theater, a stark contrast to the recent hardships they had endured. The Guardians relished in the escapism, their laughter echoing through the room as they enjoyed the light-hearted adventure on screen. It was a perfect moment, a reminder of what they had fought so hard to preserve.

After the movie, Eunha and Crash headed back to his place. As usual, he smiled and hugged her. As usual, she kissed his cheek during the hug and said, “Stay safe while saving the world, big guy!” But then something unusual happened.

“I know you live far away, but you're free to stay the night,” Crash offered, his voice carrying a rare warmth and vulnerability.

Eunha turned to Crash, thinking she misheard him. “What was that, Crasilior? It sounded like you said I could spend the night?”

Crash repeated his invitation, his eyes steady and sincere.

She was stunned when he let her inside his home. As long as Eunha had known him, he had never let anyone into his place. She expected a minimalistic haven for meditation but was surprised to see a cozy, retro space filled with Golden Age amenities and art. The room was adorned with vintage posters, comfortable furniture, and warm lighting that created an inviting atmosphere.

In the comfort of his home, Eunha felt a rush of emotions. She wandered through the room, taking in the details. A collection of antique books lined one shelf, and a vintage record player sat in the corner, softly playing an old jazz tune. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of cologne filled the air. She noticed four mini barrels scattered around the room. Curiosity got the better of her.

“Hey, Crash, what are the barrels for?” she asked, her voice filled with intrigue.

Crash, now lounging on his couch, replied, “They are distilling barrels for whisky, whiskey, and bourbon.”

Eunha looked at the Awoken, confused. “You said whisky twice.”

She was shocked when Crash laughed. He rarely vocalized anything outside of orders, questions, random noises, and confirmation sounds. Hearing his laugh, so relaxed and genuine, was a pleasant surprise.

“Whiskey is American, and whisky is Scottish. They have slightly different methods of creation,” he explained, a playful glint in his eye. Eunha smiled, feeling a newfound warmth in their interaction. She gazed into his pale, glowing ivory eyes, truly noticing their beauty for the first time.

“I never realized how pretty your eyes are,” she said, which would have made the teal-colored man blush if possible. Crash smiled at Eunha, who smiled back. She felt the same ease with him as she did during a raid or a strike. It made her wonder why he was opening up now.

“Crash, why now?” Eunha asked softly, her curiosity piqued.

The Awoken instantly understood what she meant. Though he struggled to put his feelings into words, he tried to explain. “When my Ghost cracked and almost died, I realized I had no one. I have acquaintances, but no one to go to. I was guarded but alone, and my heart couldn't bear the loneliness anymore… despite all the alacrity and solo operative mods I could grab. Not to mention when we were running through Salvation’s edge and the witness separated us into our worlds and I couldn't hear your voice. A rage I have felt rose within me as I tore through his little pocket dimension. That moment changed me because the only person I could think about was you. I wanted to get back to you more than anything. I didn't care about the witness anymore or the stakes. I cared about making sure you were safe and we’d meet again”

Hearing Crash’s explanation made Eunha realize that Crash was in love with her. She smiled, understanding that all those small gestures on the battlefield—the finger hearts, the humming, and his prioritizing her safety—meant Crash had loved her for a long time but was shy. Well, tonight she was going to change that. she decided that she was going to fuck the shyness and a confession out of him.

Eunha moved closer to Crash, sitting beside him on the couch. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she said softly, placing a hand on his. “We’ve been through so much together, and I’ve always felt something special between us. I’m glad you opened up to me.”

Crash looked into her eyes, his usual stoic expression softened by emotion. “I’ve always admired your strength, Eunha. You’ve been my anchor in so many battles. I just… never knew how to express it.”

Eunha leaned in, her heart pounding. “You’re expressing it perfectly now,” she whispered, closing the distance between them.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Crash’s home and their memories, they shared a tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of triumph, of overcoming impossible odds, and of a future filled with hope and love. The burdens of their past battles seemed to lift, replaced by the promise of new beginnings.

As she felt Crash submit to her Eunha couldn't contain herself. She began to explore the awoken’s mouth. He tasted like the soda he had at post-movie dinner at the ramen shop.

Overwhelmed by resurging emotions that had been suppressed for ages Crash fully gave himself over to Eunha. Eunha devoured him as she continued to kiss and feel up “her titan” It drove him mad with lust as she got on top of his lap and deepened their kiss while grinding on his crotch. The Bashfull bunny was gone in its place a rapacious rabbit, who needed her bear. When she broke this kiss the air between burned with a heat niether of them could extinguish. She clawed into him as she went in for another kiss.

“I need you inside me Crash. Fuck me! say I'm. Yours!” Eunha demanded. She felt Crash’s surging erection under her and ripped her underwear open as she fished for his cock. When she found it she slammed her bare pussy onto his rod. As much as Eunha wanted a pleasant and welcoming first time with her it was anything but,

“Oh Fuck you're too big you're gonna break me,” Eunha moaned as she slowly revived Crash’s cock. The tightness of her folds was an erotic bliss for Crash. Having all of his feelings returned with Eunha he fell further into love and lust with her.

When Eunha finally took all his cock she smiled at Crash before riding him like he was a sparrow with low handling. Instinctively Crash’s hand found their way to Eunha’s sexy ass. Crash gripped tight as he began finding his own pace as their hips tried to find peace. At first in their fervor, their body rhythms competed with each other. A violent smashing of flesh together, but eventually their bodies found a perfect sync as they tumbled closer to their releases. Eunha was the closet as she had set the pace all night but she needed to hear Crash say he was hers alone,

“Come on Crash tell me whose pussy your cock belongs to?” she demands

Resolutely Crash responded, “My body, my heart, and my cock are yours alone.” hearing that pushed Eunha over the edge as she gushed all over Crash’s cock. Her father's tightness milked his orgasm out of him as he followed her into bliss.

In the aftermath of their copulation, Eunha said, “I won't leave you alone anymore,”

Crash smiled and hugged his new partner tightly

They spent the night fucking, talking, laughing, and sharing stories. Crash opened up more about his, fears, and his dreams.

Eunha listened, her heart swelling with love and admiration for the man who had been her steadfast protector. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, the quiet hum of the city outside a comforting backdrop to their newfound connection.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn filtered through the windows, Eunha woke up to find Crash watching her, a gentle smile on his face. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning,” she replied, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Thank you for letting me in, Crash. I mean it.”

Crash nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and joy. “Thank you for being here, Eunha. I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

As they prepared to face the new day, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Their bond, forged in the heat of battle and tempered by love, would guide them through whatever the future held.

And in that moment, in the quiet aftermath of their greatest triumph, they found something even more precious than victory—they found each other.

Postscript: Destiny 2 probably means as much to me as Magic does and it took a climatic battle several years in the making to see it. So their may be more this may become a series but as of now enjoy the one-shot.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #destiny 2 #destiny 2 smut #destiny 2 fanfic #eunha #viviz eunha #eunha smut #gfriend smut #gfriend eunha

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meiieiri · 20 hours

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).

Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.

Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.

You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.

“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.

Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.

And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.

Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.

“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”

“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.

A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.

But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.

And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.

Whatever fine means.

“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.

You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.

“That depends, you gonna let me win?”

“Never.”

“Y/N! There you are.”

You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.

But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.

“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”

“Yeah.”

Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.

Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.

“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.

“…I know.”

You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.

What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”

You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”

Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!

“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”

Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”

“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”

You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.

“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?

In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.

“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”

Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.

Keyword: friend.

He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…

“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.

But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.

Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.

And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.

The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.

Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.

He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.

This was it.

…

The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.

Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?

Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?

No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.

And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”

A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.

This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.

“I knew it.”

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notsosweetchan · 3 days

Text

PAIRING: Felix x Reader

WARNINGS: smut, sexual language, anal play, filming

Minors do not interact

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Camboy ੈ✩‧₊˚

Felix nervously adjusted the camera, making sure it was positioned just right. He glanced over at his girlfriend, Y/N, who was lounging on the bed next to him. He had always been submissive, and his job as a camboy only furthered that aspect of his personality. But he had never invited Y/N to be a part of it before.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Y/N asked, her voice soft and gentle. She knew how nervous Felix could get when it came to his work.

Felix took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Yes," he finally said. "I want you to be a part of it. I want you to fuck me."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered. She smiled at Felix, moving closer to him. "If that's what you want," she said, her voice filled with desire.

Y/N slowly reached out and began to trace the outline of Felix's lips with her finger, her touch causing a wave of arousal to wash over him. She could feel the tension in his body, but she knew that this was something he desired deeply, and she wanted to give it to him.

As she leaned in closer, Felix felt his heart racing, his breath shallow. He could feel the warmth of her body, the scent of her skin, and the anticipation of what was to come. And then, their lips met, their kiss passionate and intense, as if their need for one another was finally being satisfied.

Y/N slowly pulled away, her eyes filled with desire. "Are you sure?" she asked once more, her voice barely audible.

Felix nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm sure," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of lust and love.

With a trembling hand, Felix reached over and turned on the camera, its bright LED light illuminating the room. He felt a surge of nervous energy, mixed with excitement, as he knew this moment was one he would always remember.

“Hi guys ,” Felix said into the camera, his voice shaky but confident. “I’m here with a special guest today, my beautiful girlfriend Y/N. She’s agreed to join me in something I’ve always wanted to try. And I couldn’t be happier.”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, leaning into Felix's side. “I'm just going to let Felix do the talking here," she said, her voice warm and inviting.

Y/N's eyes sparkled with excitement and a hint of playfulness as she looked into the camera, her lovely face framed by the soft golden light. Felix couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and love for her, as she was the one person who truly understood him and his desires.

As Felix fumbled with the controls of the camera, Y/N gently placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him comfort and reassurance.

Y/N could feel the tension in Felix's body as he struggled to find the right words. He was nervous, but also excited, and she could see the passion in his eyes as he looked into the camera.

"So," Felix began, his voice soft but determined, "I’m letting Y/N have full control over me tonight, and I couldn't be more thrilled."

He smiled at Y/N, a smile that said everything she needed to know about his desires and how much this meant to him.

Y/N returned the smile, her eyes full of love and understanding. "I'm excited too," she whispered, her voice low and intimate. "I'm going to make sure you enjoy every second of this."

She began to undress him, her hands gentle but firm as she removed his clothes. She ran her fingers over his skin, tracing the lines of his body, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

Felix closed his eyes, savoring the moment as Y/N continued to explore his body. He felt her lips graze his, her breath warm and inviting, and he slowly opened his eyes to meet her gaze.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her eyes filled with desireand anticipation.

Felix nodded, his breath catching in his throat. "I'm ready," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

Y/N smiled, a slow and sultry smile that promised a night of pleasure beyond imagination. She slipped out of her own clothing, revealing her body in all its glory. Felix drank in the sight of her, admiring the curves and lines of her form.

Slowly, Y/N moved towards him, her body a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Felix watched her approach, his heart pounding in his chest, and he could feel himself growing hard at the thought of what she had in store for him.

As Y/N reached him, she began to kiss him, her lips soft and inviting, her tongue probing his mouth in a passionate dance. He responded eagerly, his own tongue exploring her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her lips. He could feel her body pressed against his, and the friction was driving him wild with desire.

While Y/N and Felix continue their passionate kiss, their tongues entwining and exploring each other's mouths, she slips a hand underneath his soft, warm skin.

She starts to seductively uncover his most intimate parts, running her fingers along his inner thighs and circling her fingertips around the base of his hard cock. He moans into the kiss as she slowly begins to stroke him, feeling his length grow in her soft touch.

The warmth in the room intensifies, mirroring the desire between them. Felix cannot help but lean into it, arching his back slightly as Y/N's hand continues to stroke him. Her touch is both gentle and firm, as if she knows just how to make him ache for more.

“Y/N ,” Felix murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with lust.

“What was that lix, that’s not my name you know that.”

"I'm sorry mommy," Felix said, his tone filled with playful mockery. "I forgot for a moment."

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers still moving gently over Felix's hard cock. "It's okay, baby," she cooed. "I'm glad you like my touch."

Felix groaned, his hips bucking slightly against her hand. "I love it," he admitted, his voice husky with arousal. She smirked, her eyes blazing with desire. "I know you do," she purred, her voice low and seductive.

Now," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I want you to show the camera the plug you’re wearing right now. Show them how badly you want me."

"Sure mommy," Felix said, his voice still thick with lust, but now also tinged with submission. He turned towards the camera and pulled out the plug that had been inserted into his ass. The camera zoomed in on the large, silicone toy, coated in lube and still clearly visible inside of him.

"There you go, mommy," Felix said, turning back to Y/N and letting her see the toy. She smiled, pleased with his obedience.

Y/N pulled on the plug toying with it just a bit, feeling the resistance of his tight hole before slowly pulling aback and then thrusting back in. Felix moaned and groaned as she continued this teasing motion, his cock growing harder and longer with each thrust.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" Y/N murmured, her voice low and sultry. "You like having a plug in you, showing the world how much a slut you are."

Felix nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, mommy," he panted. "I love it. I want it to stay in forever."

Y/N chuckled, her hand still teasing the plug in and out of Felix's ass. "Maybe one day, baby," she purred, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But for now, I have something else in store for you."

She removed the plug, leaving Felix's ass bare and vulnerable, before she walked over to a small table where various sex toys lay. Felix's heart raced, not knowing what Y/N had in mind next, but he trusted her completely.

Y/N picked up a glass dildo, its smooth surface reflecting the light from the camera. "I'm going to fuck you with this, baby," she said, her voice low and throaty.

Felix's eyes widened at the sight of the toy, his cock throbbing at the thought of what was to come. "Please, mommy," he begged. "Fuck me with it."

Y/N smiled cruelly, the desire in her eyes mirroring his own. She lubed up the dildo, running it over her fingers and then down Felix's sensitive glans. He gasped, his cock twitching at the touch.

"Now," Y/N instructed, "I want you to show the camera exactly how badly you want this."

Felix hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning towards the camera. He spread his legs wide and reached behind himself, lifting his ass up to expose the entrance of his tight hole. The camera zoomed in on the dark pink flesh, slick with lube and aching for the dildo.

Y/N approached him, taking the glass dildo in her hand and slowly pressing the tip against Felix's entrance. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the cool glass barely breach his tight hole.

With a slow, deliberate push, Y/N began to ease the dildo into Felix's ass. Felix let out a low moan, his body arching up to meet her thrusts. The camera captured the moment, unable to resist the sight of the dildo disappearing into his willing hole.

"That's it, baby," Y/N cooed, her eyes locked on the camera. "Take it all for me."

Felix gritted his teeth, pushing back against the invading toy as Y/N continued to work it in. The dildo slowly disappeared into him, stretching his ass to its limit. He could feel every inch of the glass rod inside of him, filling him completely.

"Oh, fuck, that's so good, mommy," Felix groaned, his voice strained with pleasure.

Y/N smirked, satisfied with the outcome. She pulled the dildo out, slowly and teasingly, just to make Felix writhe in pleasure before thrusting it back in. Felix's hips bucked, his cock leaking pre-cum onto his stomach.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" Y/N purred, her eyes never leaving the camera. "You're such a good little slut, letting me use you like this. You belong to me, Felix, and you'll do anything I say."

Felix moaned, his heart pounding in his chest. He loved it when Y/N called him her slut and knew that she was right. He did belong to her, completely and utterly.

Y/N kept up her relentless pace, thrusting the dildo in and out of Felix's ass and allowing him no respite. His body responded to her touch, his cock throbbing and growing harder with each passing moment.

The camera continued to capture every agonizingly pleasurable second, the footage destined to be viewed by her countless fans.

Y/N’s own breathing grew ragged, her face flushed with arousal.

She was just as caught up in the moment as Felix, her desire for him equal to his need."You want to cum, don't you, baby?" she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

Felix nodded frantically. "Yes, mommy. Please. I need it. I need to cum."

Y/N smiled, her eyes gleaming with desire. She knew exactly what Felix needed. With a sudden burst of energy, she thrust the dildo deep inside him, her fingers wrapping around his cock and pumping him in time with her thrusts.

Felix's moans filled the room, his body arching up to meet Y/N's every move. The sight was beautiful to behold, his submission to Y/N complete and unapologetic. The camera captured it all, the expression on his face a mixture of pleasure, pain, and complete surrender.

"Take it, baby," Y/N cooed, her voice a seductive purr. "Take it all for me."

Felix's eyes rolled back in his head, his body shaking uncontrollably as the orgasm finally took hold of him. He cried out Y/N's name, his cock spurting ropes of cum all over the sheets.

Y/N watched him with a satisfied smile, her own arousal still high. She removed the dildo from Felix's ass and stroked him one last time, milking every last drop of cum from him.

"Good boy," she praised, running her fingers through the wetness on his stomach. "You did so well."

Felix collapsed onto the bed, his body spent and exhausted. He looked at the camera “ Thanks for watching I’m going to need a shower,Good night.”

Minors do not interact

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagine #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz imagine #skz smut #Felix imagine #Felix imagines #felix x reader #felix stray kids #stray kids felix #felix smut

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etherealhannie · 3 days

Text

. ݁₊ ⊹ 💫 . ݁˖ . ݁ ,, morning of reflection

pairing ,, bf!mingyu × gf!fem!reader

genre ,, fluff, established relationship

word count ,, 1.3k

song rec. ,, better with you - jeff bernat

the soft glow of dawn crept through the curtains of their cozy apartment, casting a gentle light over the room. the faint aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, gradually pulling mingyu from his sleep. he stretched lazily, savoring the warmth of the bed for a few more moments before rolling over and noticing that y/n was not beside him. pouting to himself, he could hear her humming softly from the kitchen, a sound that filled him with contentment.

mingyu slipped out of bed, pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, and made his way to the kitchen. he paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of y/n. she was dancing lightly as she moved between the stove and the counter, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, her hair tied up in a messy bun. the morning sunlight bathed her in a golden hue, making her appear even more radiant.

y/n’s confidence and competence were evident in every movement. mingyu admired her not just for her beauty but for the strength and passion she brought into everything she did. today, he wanted to show her just how much she was appreciated—not just by him, but in her own eyes as well.

“good morning, beautiful,” mingyu greeted, his voice soft and filled with warmth.

y/n turned, a bright smile lighting up her face. “good morning, sleepyhead. i thought i’d surprise you with breakfast.”

mingyu crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind, planting a gentle kiss on her neck. “i love waking up to your cooking,” he murmured, inhaling the delightful mix of her scent and the delicious breakfast.

y/n laughed, leaning into his embrace. “i love cooking for you. now, go sit down. everything’s almost ready.”

reluctantly, mingyu released her and took a seat at the small kitchen table. he watched as y/n plated the pancakes, eggs, and bacon with an artist’s touch, pouring fresh coffee into two mugs. she brought the plates over, setting one in front of him and the other across the table, then joined him with a contented sigh.

“this looks amazing, baby. thank you,” mingyu said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

“anything for you,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently before they both began to eat.

as they enjoyed their breakfast, mingyu couldn’t help but admire the ease with which y/n handled everything, from her work as an architect to the small, thoughtful gestures she made every day. but he also noticed how often she brushed off compliments or downplayed her achievements. today, he wanted to change that.

“baby,” mingyu began, his tone thoughtful, “do you remember our first date?”

y/n looked up, her eyes sparkling with the memory. “of course i do. you took me to that little italian restaurant, and we talked for hours.”

mingyu smile, nodding. “i knew from that night that you were someone special. not just because you’re beautiful, but because of your intelligence, your kindness, and your passion for life. you’ve accomplished so much, and i don’t think you always give yourself the credit you deserve.”

y/n tilted her head, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “gyu, you’re always so sweet to me. i know i’ve done well, but it’s just… life, you know? i’m just doing what i love.”

“that’s exactly it,” mingyu said, his eyes locking onto hers. “you’re doing what you love, and you’re doing it brilliantly. but sometimes, i feel like you don’t take a moment to appreciate just how amazing you are. not just in your career, but in every aspect of your life.”

y/n’s eyes softened, a tender smile forming on her lips. “i guess i never really think about it that way. i’m just… me.”

mingyu reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricately wrapped box. he slid it across the table towards her, watching her eyes widen in surprise. “i got you something. it’s not a special occasion, but i wanted you to have it.”

y/n picked up the box, her fingers delicately unwrapping it. inside was a beautiful silver bracelet, adorned with tiny charms that represented different milestones and passions in her life: a miniature architectural ruler, a book, a heart, and a small compass.

“oh, gyu,” y/n breathed, her voice filled with emotion. “this is… it’s perfect.”

mingyu stood and walked over to her side, gently taking the bracelet and fastening it around her wrist. “each charm represents a part of you that i love and admire,” he explained. “your creativity, your love for knowledge, your heart, and your sense of direction in life. you bring so much light and love into the world, baby, and i want you to see and appreciate that about yourself.”

y/n looked down at the bracelet, her eyes misting over with tears. “i don’t know what to say, gyu. thank you.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” mingyu said, taking her hands in his. “just promise me that you’ll take a moment every day to recognize how incredible you are. not for me, but for yourself. you deserve to see what I see.”

y/n stood and wrapped her arms around mingyu, hugging him tightly. “i promise,” she whispered. “i’ll try to appreciate myself more, the way you do.”

they stood there for a moment, holding each other, the morning light streaming in and wrapping them in a warm embrace. when they finally pulled apart, mingyu kissed her forehead gently.

“now, how about we finish this delicious breakfast you made and then go for a walk in the park?” he suggested.

y/n nodded, her smile returning. “i’d love that.”

they sat back down, enjoying the rest of their meal with a renewed sense of connection and understanding. as they ate, they talked about their plans for the day, their dreams for the future, and the small joys they found in everyday life.

after breakfast, they cleaned up the kitchen together, laughing and stealing kisses as they worked. then they headed out to the nearby park, hand in hand. the fresh morning air was invigorating, and the sound of birds singing filled the air.

as they walked along the winding paths, y/n felt a sense of peace and contentment. she glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist, each charm a reminder of the different facets of her life that mingyu cherished. for the first time in a long time, she began to see herself through his eyes, appreciating the person she had become and the journey she was on.

mingyu squeezed her hand gently, breaking her reverie. “penny for your thoughts?”

y/n smiled up at him. “just thinking about how lucky i am to have you in my life. you make me feel so loved and appreciated.”

mingyu stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression serious but filled with love. “you deserve to feel that way, baby. every single day. And i’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you do.”

y/n’s heart swelled with emotion, and she leaned in to kiss him. “i love you, gyu.”

“i love you too, baby,” he replied, holding her close.

as they continued their walk, y/n felt a renewed sense of appreciation for herself and the life they were building together. with mingyu by her side, she knew she could face any challenge and celebrate every success, always remembering to love and value herself as much as he did.

in the quiet of the morning, surrounded by the beauty of the park and the love of the man who cherished her, y/n found a new strength within herself. and with each step they took, she felt more confident, more appreciated, and more in love with the person she was and the person she was becoming.

#fanfic #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #seventeen mingyu

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unpopularwriter25 · 2 days

Text

Baked with Love

Summary: Hajime Umemiya frequently visits a local bakery where Y/N, a sweet and caring worker, has captured his heart. Despite his nervousness, Hajime continually finds excuses to see her, often bringing friends who know his true intentions.

Warnings: None

Note: Hi, I started watching the new anime called Windbreaker, so I'm going to be writing for some of these cuties.

The bell above the bakery door chimed softly as Hajime Umemiya pushed it open, the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries wafting out to greet him. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet aroma that never failed to lift his spirits. The warm, inviting atmosphere of the bakery was a stark contrast to the bustling streets outside. Soft music played in the background, and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air.

“Man, this place really does have the best treats,” Hajime said, a little too enthusiastically, as he ushered his friends inside. They exchanged knowing glances but said nothing, familiar with the real reason for his frequent visits.

You stood behind the counter, your eyes lighting up as you saw Hajime enter. “Good morning, Hajime! It’s great to see you again,” you greeted warmly, your smile as sweet as the confections you sold.

Hajime’s heart skipped a beat at your words, and he felt a blush creeping up his neck. “Morning, Y/N. Got any new treats today?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“We do! We just started making these new strawberry tarts. Would you like to try one?” You held up a perfectly golden tart, the strawberries glistening under the soft lights.

“Absolutely! I’ll take one. And, um, the usual for my friends,” Hajime said, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you prepared their order, Hajime couldn’t help but admire the way you moved, so graceful and focused. The way your hands worked, deftly and efficiently, made his heart swell with admiration. He wondered how someone could be so perfect, so effortlessly kind and beautiful.

“You know,” his friend Suo said, nudging him with an elbow, “you should just ask her out already. It’s obvious you like her.”

Hajime shot him a panicked look. “Shh, not so loud!” he whispered urgently. “She’ll hear you!”

Suo chuckled. “Honestly, I think she already knows. Everyone does.”

You returned with their order, setting the tray on the counter with a smile. “Here you go! One strawberry tart for you, Hajime, and the usual for your friends. I hope you all enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’m sure we will,” Hajime replied, his voice softer now. He handed you the money, and as your fingers brushed briefly, he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him.

As they settled at a table near the window, Hajime took a bite of the tart. The sweet and tangy flavor of the strawberries, perfectly balanced by the flaky crust, was a delight. But even more delightful was watching you as you interacted with other customers, your cheerful demeanor never fading.

“Man, you’ve got it bad,” Haruka teased, biting into his own pastry.

Hajime sighed, his eyes still on you. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The sun streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the bakery. The combination of sunlight, the smell of freshly baked goods, and your presence made the place feel magical. Hajime knew he couldn’t keep coming here with the same excuse forever. He needed to muster the courage to ask you out, to see if there was a chance you felt the same way about him.

As they were getting ready to leave, Hajime lingered by the counter, waiting for a moment when you weren’t busy. Finally, you turned to him with that same sweet smile.

“Is there something else you need, Hajime?”

He swallowed nervously, his heart pounding. “Actually, Y/N, there is. I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go out with me sometime? Like, not just here, but… somewhere else?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then a radiant smile spread across your face. “I’d love that, Hajime.”

His heart soared, and he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. “Really? That’s… that’s awesome. How about this Saturday?”

“Saturday sounds perfect,” you replied, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush.

“Great! I’ll see you then,” Hajime said, grinning from ear to ear.

As he left the bakery, his friends congratulating him and patting him on the back, Hajime felt like he was walking on air.

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jules-writes-stories · 2 days

Text

Into the Night

A Retelling of Hades & Persephone | Azriel x Eris | Azris Week | Day 7| Equinox

Cast of Characters |

The first two parts are below. Read the whole story on AO3.

Scarlet hair blew across a pale face, like blood on freshly fallen snow. Golden eyes were lights upon dark water, a windy smile. He wanted this fae of Forest and Flame, like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Ours, the shadows whispered.

Each day was the same. Azriel spied on the beautiful male gliding through Autumn’s citrine-ruby forests, watched him slip between stalks of grain and orchards, the scent of stone fruit and loam cloying in the setting sun.

Somehow the shadows had found their way into this court of hearth and harvest, once in thrall to a wicked Fire Lord, whose wife rose up and took the throne. Now, she ruled as Autumn’s High Lady with her seven sons. And it was the eldest that Azriel desired for his own.

He’d told his brothers, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, and Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed, just how much he needed the prince of Autumn. “Not until the Equinox,” Rhys had insisted. And Azriel was a patient male, a spymaster and a shadowsinger. He could wait for what was his.

Even as the golden cord that bound him to his mate, woven by the Mother herself, dragged at the unruly beast that was his heart.

Today was the Equinox, most High Holy Day in Autumn, and all of Prythian. When Day and Night aligned in perfect balance. It was the one night each year, when the magical boundaries and borders dropped between Prythian’s courts. All fae, High and lesser, Solar and Seasonal, united as one, beneath the Mother’s loving gaze.

Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn, prepared for this night of revelry, like any other. He wore green velvet and diaphanous silk that whispered of trysts in moonlit forests. Gold lined his pointed ears, a single hoop in one nostril.

Warrior, prince, fae of fire—this was his kingdom. And tonight, he would find his pleasure and replenish the land, to give back to its plenty. The prince left for the Forest, his brothers close behind. Fae danced around pyres, in time with distant drumming, already buzzing on wine, the scent of sex, sweet and smoky, in the night.

Eris felt alive and aroused, in need of something he could not place. Soon. The drumming paused as voices hushed. Crackling bonfires and the breeze in ancient treetops were the only sounds.

Now.

His magic was rising. It snapped beneath his tongue, itched his palms. Tingled at his fingertips, and down his spine. Until there were full sparks, flames along skin, at the tips of his hair, wreathing his hands. It was life and death and sex, to forget one’s before and after—not to become or have been, but to be.

Now.

As his magic settled, finally, pulsing through his veins, Eris looked up in awe, ready to receive the Mother’s love. And this was why the fireling was taken so completely off guard. For it was at this very moment, while all of Prythian’s eyes were on the heavens, that Hel’s shadows and darkness came.

* * *

Now. It had to be this very moment. When the wards between their courts were unguarded. Azriel commanded the shadows to bank the bonfires with darkness. Fae cried out as the earth quaked, seeming to cleave open, as the Night Court male landed silently in the darkened Forest.

The shadowsinger reached out and with strong, scarred hands, pulled the fireling, by his narrow waist, to his chest. Mine.

The golden thread thrummed with pleasure at the contact, at the scent of embers and rain, of the male in his arms. Amber eyes took in hazel.

“Who are you?” a voice, breathless, but unafraid, asked in the darkness.

“I am the singer of shadows. I am yours,” Azriel whispered back, his breath against the skin of the male’s white cheek. And then, before the Autumn fae could panic or react, they were passing through folds of space and time.

* * *

Eris was lost in the darkness, his only anchor a pair of strong arms, a solid chest, the scent of mist and moonlight on cedar. He was holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes,” a low voice rumbled, laced with amusement. The Autumn prince did, and what he saw, left him speechless. He clung to the leathers of a male, built like a warrior, with enormous, bat-like wings, spread against the night sky. And this male’s beauty was heartbreaking. His raven curls were perfectly tousled, as if the wind herself had run long fingers through them. Golden brown skin, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes lined with thick lashes.

Eris pulled away with a jolt, baring his slightly elongated canines. Flames coiled along his hands. “Take me back to my home.” He growled, with all the authority of an Autumn prince.

But the winged male simply smirked and stared. His eyes moved slowly, starting at Eris’s red hair, the flushed tips of his pointed ears, then shifted with lazy dominance, downwards, lingering at molten eyes, a perfect nose, kissed with faint freckles, to the male’s pink, pouting mouth.

Heat coiled low in the fireling’s belly, at the base of his spine, arousal licking through his veins, even as he grew angry. Who was this male, to look at the heir of Autumn, with such possession? The fae prince bared his teeth again, flames growing hotter.

Hazel eyes, unphased, unhurried, continued to move down the prince’s lithe frame. They took in the long column of a pale neck. Broad, graceful shoulders and a narrow waist. Hips that would feel perfect in his hands.

And then, the winged male, shrouded in shadows, said, “Eris, you are home.”

I tagged anyone who asked/expressed interest, but please lmk if you ever want on/off my 🏷️

@c-starstuff-man0, @natashachelsea @chunkypossum, @fieldofdaisiies @jir67 @futurehunt @the-darkestminds @hellolordling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @brekkershadowsinger @disney-acotar-hp @moonpatroclus @azrisweek @unanswered-stars @theartofmischief @lilah-asteria

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diorgirl444 · 1 day

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a week in outfits with sweetheart! reader… and dallas ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ •

• what sweetheart! reader wears & does in a typical week of her life + a peek into her camera roll! semi historically accurate but mainly just pretty stuff!!! • warnings: allusions to sex though not graphic, swearing, mentions of religion + not believing

she doesn’t see dallas much during the day of monday but when evening rolls around and she’s all sweet - smelling and soft after her bath, dressed in a nightdress and working on her diary/scrapbook she hears a tap! tap! tap! at her window! she eagerly opens it, smiling giddily her greaser boyfriend clambers in. they spent the night sharing cookies that she baked, telling stories about their day’s and he holds her till she falls asleep. when she wakes up he’s gone as her parents will kill her if they see him but she smiles at the dip in her bed from where he had once been.

dallas when drunk one night had promised her that he’d go antique shopping with her and that tuesday after school she decides to take him up on that offer. he’s grouchy to begin with but softens at all the old military stuff. he can see himself in the shoes of those boys, in a war of sorts himself. he’s also impressed by her ability to haggle prices down and she leaves with a basket filled with china figurines and a music box. when they get out into the warm sunlight she presses silver dog tags into his palm. saying “wear it with your st christopher and think of me dal”

wednesday is horse racing night for dallas and what sort of girlfriend would she be if she didn’t go to support him? she’s always so proud when she sees him out there racing on the dirt track and the confidence in his gaze gives her butterflies. she orders a shirley temple and brings a bag of books to read when it’s not one of dallas’s races. at the end to celebrate his inevitable victory they light sparklers. the hazy golden light reflects of his face and she wonders if he knows how beautiful he is.

on thursdays after he picks her up from school hang out with his friends and hers at the drive in. before they go to it though they stop at the fair where dallas wins her a pretty toy deer. she decides to name it bambi and tells dallas that it’s now their daughter so he better be nice to it. when they get to the drive in it’s a double feature showing of gidget which is one of her favourites and blue hawaii which she’s not so keen on. so after grabbing popcorn, cherry coke for her and pepsi for dallas they sit amongst his greaser friends and her soc girlfriends. by the time blue hawaii is on she’s started to get sleepy so dallas wraps his jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm and she snuggles into him clutching the deer plush.

friday’s are always parties at buck’s place and for reader it’s an excuse to dress up as pretty as possible + maybe kinda slutty for a change! beforehand dallas always steals the sickliest sweet drink he can find from a liquor store as that’s all she’ll touch. she’s also a total lightweight so the night tends to ends up one of three ways. one being that she’s so drunk that passes out and dallas has to begrudgingly tuck her into bed. another one being some jerk hits on her so dallas hits him. or both of their favourite options she doesn’t get drunk, dallas gets overwhelmed by the sight of her in that tiny dress and the two of them suspiciously disappear for the rest of the night…

saturday’s are her absolute favourite days when she can convince dallas to go to dances with her. when they first got together he said he didn’t wanna be involved with “all that soc shit” but one look at her all dolled up and the thought of how other guys might react had him shrugging on a smarter shirt and taking her to the local sock hop. he actually finds himself enjoying it as they play a lot of rock and roll that he likes and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world to get to slow dance with her at the end. afterwards they always stop at dq for greasy burgers, salty fries and creamy milkshakes. and he knows he is the luckiest guy to feel her knee press against his beneath the small table and to see her laughing so at ease.

and finally sundays are church days. her family are very devout christian’s so she’s been going since she was small. she enjoys the peace and quiet though she’s not sure if she actually believes in it all that much. and yeah maybe when her family are handing out the pie she’s made as a a sweet treat and trying to set her up with the pastor’s nerdy son she just might be creeping round the back to go make out with her boyfriend… aw young love, eh?

#diorgirl444 #flo answers #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston #sweetheart! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

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jazeswhbhaven · 2 days

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Astra Meets Mammon for the First Time

Please enjoy this excerpt from my longfic...these two are sick love puppies and it's cute.

Astra’s eyes struggled to open, the sudden fluorescent lighting stinging her eyes letting her know she was not back on Earth in Minhyeok’s room. More importantly, something was rubbing against her, her thighs and trailing up to the small of her back and down to her backside massaging and gripping her ass like kneading dough.

What the… Astra turns, only to be face full of a large, abundant chest. A black neck decoration with a cross draping down toward the upper abdomen that was ripped, solid muscle, and smooth peach-colored skin. Her eyes then met the owner, eyes sparkling like gold, as if diamonds were decorating the irises. Eyebrows low, lids at rest with a laid-back gaze that could give anyone heart palpitations and a wet seat.

Holy fu-what…who is this? Her eyes focused next on one solid, thick golden horn that curled toward the end. The other side was only occupied by a cut stump of the missing horn’s base. His hair was jet black and seemingly soft to the touch. All she wanted to do was touch whoever it was that was holding her in bandaged muscular arms, a heavy gold and black robe. The smell that she had experienced earlier came from this humongous devil, everything about him overstimulating her senses all at one time, except what he sounded like.

“You were squirming a lot while you were sleeping. What did you dream of?”

Astra wanted to excuse herself to the nearest restroom to throw cold water on her face. His voice made this situation no better as her insides swirled and made her shiver with anticipation. She didn’t want to seem forward, or rude, but everything in her brain wanted to tell this devil exactly how she felt.

“I was dreaming of a friend, but I wish I were dreaming about you instead.”

The devil smirks, taking a handful of her backside and giving it a tight squeeze that makes Astra whimper. No one handled her waist and thighs like this, it felt like a massage she was long overdue for. His gaze was overpowering, the smell of musk and spice getting stronger as it seemed the devil was getting excited by her statement.

“Oh? Then I’m right, I knew that I’d like you as soon as I spoke to you. Daughter of Solomon.”

Does he know me? But then, that would mean…is he a noble or a king?

“What’s your name?” Astra asks her hands idly trailing his chest and down his form. She continued behind his back until she was met with a handful of his backside against her fingers and palms. With a squeeze the devil grunted, still keeping a fixed stare on her.

“Mammon. The devil of avarice and ruler of Tartaros.”

“Mammon…do you understand how gorgeous you are?”

Astra at this point was saying whatever came to her mind. He was a king, and whether it was his influence or her true nature, she wanted nothing to do with the outside world at this time. All she wanted was his time, his attention, anything he could give her. She needed him not only emotionally, but carnally. “A human giving me so many compliments the first time seeing me. I like it. I like you.”

“Then, that means...I can break your contract and then that means you’ll be free to do anything you wish, right?”

“Hm? Break what, now? You must mean the pact between Solomon and I…I’m already powerful and don’t wish to break it.”

Astra tilts her head but then sighs. “How am I supposed to create a new contract to claim you if there’s already one in effect? Hell is confusing.”

Mammon’s eyes widen and then lower back to their rested state and he pulls Astra closer to him. His breath was on her neck, his lips traveling and hovering over her collarbone until he picked a spot to lick and kiss her gently.

“Own me? A human? What a proposal…to own the person who owns everything in this Hell is the very core of greed itself. Just hearing you speak of it is…arousing.”

Astra then gently grabs Mammon by his cheeks, staring down at him as he softly smiles. “Then, tell me what I have to do. Letting you slip is not an option.”

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb mammon #whb oc #whb mammon x oc #oc astra content 🌌

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lavenderfluorite14 · 1 day

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A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 11: Fun

Summary: Astarion is surprised, in more ways than one, by the morning after. Rating/Warnings: PG, casual murder, poisoning, degradation/humiliation. Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 10❤️‍🔥

Astarion wakes from his trance surprisingly refreshed. He stretches his nude body languidly, enjoying the brief flash of soreness in his muscles. Beside him, Tav still rests peacefully. He openly admires her, his eyes lingering on the bite marks he gave her last night. The mottled petals of the bruises lay so beautifully against her skin.

The morning sunlight streams through the canopy in golden ribbons as Astarion quietly rises, moving to bask in a nearby sunbeam. His mind goes blank as he lets the pleasure of it all wash over him. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

His plan is working. He’s safe and full. The morning sun feels so warm on his skin.

“Good morning,” Tav interrupts his musings, her voice gravelly with sleep.

“Good morning,” he replies. He’s loath to turn around, wanting to keep sunning himself, so he shifts slightly so he can watch her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re up early! I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

“Oh, I am,” Tav yawns. She arches her back in a deep stretch, her nipples pebbling in the morning chill. Light purple hickeys dot her breasts, each one a small reminder of their night together. They will take days to fade. “I quite enjoyed myself,” she admits, smiling at him. Astarion preens. Of course she did. All according to plan. Behind him, he can hear Tav get to her feet. “Did you have fun?” she asks, suddenly tentative.

“Of course, my darling,” Astarion answers, surprised by the question. “You’re a veritable feast.” “Good, I’m glad,” Tav says, relieved. “Towards the end, I was worried that something may have been wrong?” Astarion stiffens imperceptibly. “But I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.” Astarion isn’t quite sure how to explain this.

“I was holding back a little, it’s true,” he reveals. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were, I didn’t want to go too far.”

It’s the truth, it’s just not the whole truth. For the sake of the plan it was imperative that he perform correctly, and that meant remaining in control. But even though their tryst may have been tailored to Tav’s pleasure and tastes, he still enjoyed himself. Even holding back, he experienced more pleasure last night than he has in decades. But there is no need to talk about all that.

“Oh,” Tav says, obviously chewing on his words. It occurs to Astarion that he has never had to navigate a “morning after” before. Not like this. Is it always so awkward? So vulnerable?

“Now let’s go, we have a long day ahead of us,” he prompts. He turns towards the oak tree, where he had left his clothes, but stops when he sees the pensive expression on Tav’s face. “May I ask about your back first?” Tav asks.

Of course she had noticed it. Most of the time Astarion tries to forget it is even there. He considers brushing her off, burying his shame even deeper down. But a bigger, louder part inside of him howls for comfort.

“It’s a poem,” he explains, crossing over to the oak tree to gather up his shirt. He had left it carefully folded at the base of the trunk. “A gift from Cazador.” He pulls his shirt over his body, fussing with its fit. “He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed that one over the course of a night.” Tav just listens, letting him speak. “He made a lot of revisions as he went,” Astarion finishes, his voice soft and deep. He can’t quite keep the pain from those last few words.

“That’s awful,” Tav says quietly.

“Yes, well. ‘Awful’ does aptly describe Cazador,” he replies.

“Are you sure it’s a poem?” Tav asks.

“Of course I’m sure,” Astarion insists, not sure at all now. “That’s what Cazador said, as he was carving it into my back with his knife.” Cazador, who of course was a completely trustworthy source of information.

“It just doesn’t look like any poem I’ve ever seen before,” Tav presses. “Well, I didn’t say he was a good poet!” Astarion cries. “What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t look like any poem you’ve ever seen before?’”

“Well for starters, why did he write it in Infernal?” Tav asks.

“Infernal?“ Surprise jolts through him, settling in the pit of his stomach where it quickly curdles into fear. He has no idea what this means, but it can’t be anything good. Nothing with Cazador is.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what happened.

“I-Who knows. The bastard was insane,” he says dismissively. “Now let’s go, before I regret my restraint last night,” he purrs, trying to pivot this conversation back into comfortable territory.

Tav looks at him thoughtfully before silently dressing and gathering up her things. His flirtation falls flat, ringing falsely even to his own ears. Its hollow echo follows them all the way back to camp, where they both quietly slip into their separate tents.

They smell the goblin camp before they see it. A miasma of filth blankets the base of the western mountains in a bouquet of smoke, sweat, death, and dung. And, of course, that one singular, arresting note: blood. Old and new, stale and fresh, rotten and delicious. It stinks to high heaven.

There’s a group of goblin warriors guarding a narrow entrance that passes for a gate. Tav pulls them all aside before they engage.

“Listen, you three,” she levels a serious glare at Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’Zel. “I know the past few days have been….” She pauses, trying to choose her words carefully.

“Thoroughly frustrating?” Shadowheart remarks.

“The time of your life?,” Astarion offers, suggestively.

“Bad,” Lae’Zel declares.

“Bad,” Tav agrees. “And I know this group has had its challenges. But I don’t know what we’re going to find in there, and I don’t know what we are going have to do to make it out alive. Hopefully with Halsin, but we need to anticipate the worst. We can only make it through this together. I need the most vicious and ruthless fighters of our group to have each other’s backs today. So, can you put aside your differences to make this work?”

“Of course, darling. I’m a consummate professional,” Astarion vows.

“Affirmative,” Lae’Zel confirms.

“So long as nothing is said to me, I’ll be fine,” Shadowheart says, turning up her nose. Tav sighs.

“I’ll take it. Let’s go.”Tav is all business now, already forging ahead with the business of the day. Which is perfect, because Astarion has absolutely no desire to address the morning’s awkwardness. He’s trying to enjoy his victory, but something still feels off to him. Last night was a success, but there’s a nagging voice inside of him that says it was not enough. That he will need to do more to truly secure his place.

Lae’Zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion all watch as Tav bluffs her way past the goblin guard at the entrance. Just as they are about to pass, the guard stops her and points to a gelatinous turd at his feet. He gestures to it with his hand and pantomimes applying it to his face. Tav takes his suggestion, bending down to scoop up the excrement.

“Oh no,” Astarion whispers to their cohort.

“She wouldn’t,” Shadowheart whispers back, incredulous.

“She had better not,” Lae’Zel growls. Tav looks back at them over her shoulder. Their disgust for this is palpable, magnified in triplicate. Her eyes find Astarion’s.

And she winks.

Tav flings the poop directly in the goblin’s face, immediately souring any hope of peaceful entry. Astarion laughs a high, whooping laugh as he rushes to high ground. He easily snipes the goblins who try to call for help while Lae’Zel, Shadowheart, and Tav clear the remaining guard with relish and ease. So much for goblin security.

“Did you really think that I would do that?” Tav asks them as she leads the way inside. “Did you really think I would smear shit on my face?”

“I’m never quite sure what you are going to do next,” Astarion teases. Tav glares at him, playing at being insulted. Well, maybe she is a little insulted. “I just meant that you are full of surprises, darling.”

Tav hums a low, sarcastic note. “Good surprises, I hope?” she replies. There’s a hopeful glimmer in her eye that makes his stomach flutter.

“Naturally. Only the very best,” he promises, his tone low and provocative. Tav disguises her smile with a playful eye roll.

“If you debase yourself like that for a puny goblin I truly will leave,” Lae’Zel warns. Astarion and Shadowheart hesitate at her words, but Tav giggles as if it is a joke and not a serious threat.

“Noted, Lae’Zel. I will not smear poop on my face.”

Once through the gate, no one questions their presence. The goblin camp is utter chaos, and probably more surprisingly, filled with more than goblins. As they cross a crumbling bridge, they spot a familiar face on a makeshift dias across the way.

“Is that? Volo!?” Tav gasps. Volothamp Geddarm, noted writer, adventurer, and overall smarmy fuck, fumbles his way through a monologue of nonsense as a crowd of goblins jeers and pelts him with trash.

“With fragulous crown and sceptre abrade, Dror Ragzlin short work of the innkeeper made!”

“Bravo!!!” Tav cries, clapping loudly to drown out any booing. The goblins scowl, side-eyeing Tav with annoyance.

“Come on darling, that’s not the kind of show they want,” Astarion whispers. “They want to mock him.”

“Z’ose friends o’ yours?” A female goblin asks, her voice laden with suspicion.

“Of course not! No funny business here!” A flustered Volo laughs nervously. He shoots a quick glare at Tav.

“What are you doing? I’m busy here!” He says, shooing them away. He begins his screed again.

“Dror Ragzlin….Dror Ragzlin….” Volo tries his best, but he eventually trails off pathetically. A goblin chucks a cup at him, splashing Volo with the dregs of stale ale.

“If you aren’t gonna perform, you’re goin’ back in tha cage!” The goblin yells. Volo withers before her.

“Of course, ma’am,” he grovels. She shoves him harshly off the stage, much to the delight of the crowd.

“We have to help him!” Tav whispers to their group. Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’Zel all share a look.

“We are not here for the annoying wizard. We are here for the druid, as you said,” Lae’Zel reminds her firmly.

“It’s true, I did say that. But, we will almost certainly have to fight to free him! Won’t that be fun?” Tav says. Lae’Zel considers this.

“I do not fight for ‘fun.’ I fight to win. I fight for the honor and glory of Vlaakith,” she announces.

“Tav, this is Volo you are talking about,” Shadowheart complains.

“The Volo. Maybe if we save him he will put us in his next book!”

“That’s precisely what I am afraid of,” Astarion says.

“But then we’ll be famous!” Tav smiles sweetly up at him.

“Make us rich and famous and then you have a deal,” Astarion counters.

“Lady of Sorrows, will you two stop flirting with each other? I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but this hellhole is a temple to Selûne,” Shadowheart spits out the name with vitriol. “Even if it’s appropriately defiled, l don’t want to be in a temple of the Moon Witch for longer than I have to be,” Shadowheart whines. Tav looks away shyly, chastened. But when the cleric turns away, Tav looks at him and pulls a face behind Shadowheart’s back. Astarion stifles a smirk.

Something between them is changing, which is perhaps why it feels off to him. They have always shared banter, but it seems as though she’s actively trying to make him laugh now. And if he makes a joke, he can depend on Tav to laugh, even in a wry sort of way. It’s flirtatious, but it’s fun.

Fun. Perhaps he should chase that feeling. After the revelation that there may be more to his scars than he knows, a little fun with his lover at the expense of some goblins sounds like just what he needs. Lover. The word sounds so serious. And yet it isn’t. Not really. It could mean a lot of things.

As they walk, Astarion takes in more of their surroundings. They seem to be in a courtyard, which has been hastily transformed into a feast hall. Meat of some kind roasts on an open spit while goblins fill their tankards from a nearby cauldron of liquor. Merchants haggle with customers while other goblins eat, sing, fight, and make merry in a haze of hedonism.

One voice emerges above the din of the camp, bragging about recent conquests. “Weaker than pixies, humans!” A goblin squawks. A gaggle of his comrades laugh at his harsh words. Even surrounded by admirers, the squat, scarred goblin still catches their group staring. “Wot are you lot doin’ ‘ere? ‘More pests?” he eyes them up and down. “You prolly think you rule the world,” he sneers.

“That’s not true. We don’t think we’re better than anyone,” Tav pipes up. Astarion catches Shadowheart’s eye, then Lae’Zel’s. He doesn’t need the tadpole to know they all firmly disagree with Tav’s assessment.

“Everyone says that, then they spit in our faces,” the goblin snarls. “But no more. Things’re changin’. We got the Absolute on our side.” He gives them an evil look, sizing Tav up. “Ya better learn yer place.” The hairs on the back of Astarion’s neck stand on end as the goblin advances towards them, a look of pure hatred and disdain on his face.

Cazador has given him that look many times, right before he made Astarion do something particularly ghastly.

“Go on. Kiss my foot,” He points to the ground, wiggling his toes. “Or I’ll wipe that nasty look right off yer pretty face.”

“End him or leave him. But do not grovel to this slug,” Lae’Zel says firmly.

“Just kiss the damn foot. Worse things have been shoved in your face lately.” Shadowheart is speaking to Tav, but she is looking pointedly at Astarion. Predictably, it seems the others noticed their rendezvous. He gives Shadowheart a quick, saucy wink. She scoffs but fails to completely conceal her smirk of amusement.

Astarion can see that the goblin is growing impatient. “Well, go on. Give him a nibble,” Astarion urges. It’s horrid work, but it’s one kiss and then she’ll be done. It will be easy and then they can be on their way. Tav looks at him with surprise. He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting, princess” the goblin jeers. Tav rounds on him with a withering glare.“How about you kiss my foot, before I knock that smug look off your face,” Tav says. At the first hint of pushback, the goblin quickly changes his tune. “Look mate, piss off! Yer not welcome ‘ere,” the cretin says, puffing up his chest.” Tav plants her foot in front of him. “Kiss my foot. Now,” she orders, in a tone that demands obedience. Fear flickers across the goblin’s face as the crowd falls completely silent. Tav points down to her foot and a little thrill passes through Astarion as he watches the goblin sink to his knees. He places a surprisingly delicate kiss across the worn leather of Tav’s boot. “There, I done it,” he says, rising back to his feet.

Tav gives him a final once over as she turns away.

“Good,” Lae’Zel says approvingly. The crowd parts for them as they leave.

“Arrogant swine,” the goblin mutters after her, but Tav pays him no mind.

“Aren’t you the domineering tyrant,” Shadowheart teases.

“Only when I’m pushed,” Tav laughs. “I’m not wearing poop and I’m not kissing goblin feet,” she promises.

Astarion will do what he has to do to survive and he doesn’t begrudge others who do the same, but there’s just something about a person who refuses to be pushed around. Who wields power unapologetically. Astarion snakes his hand around her waist, pulling her close. “You continue to delight and surprise me, darling,” he whispers in her ear. Tav shudders against him and he gives her hip a quick squeeze, releasing her as he playfully retreats out of reach. Shadowheart coughs loudly.

“Lady of Sorrow guide us,” she prays pointedly. Her prayer is interrupted by a hoot of terror as a small, bedraggled clump of feathers darts past them and into a crowd of goblins, which parts for it as it scampers away. “What are they doing to that poor creature?” Shadowheart cries.

Astarion leans against a stone wall as Tav barges over, inserting herself into whatever that business is. He watches as she crouches down to speak softly to the frightened owlbear cub. Something has definitely shifted between them.

Funny. Clever. Cunning. Ambitious. Fierce. “It’s no use,” Tav says, returning. “I gave the cub my scent, but it can’t escape so long as the goblins have it trapped.”

“Well, then it sounds like we have some killing to do,” Astarion says. Lae’Zel grunts approvingly.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind killing some goblins to help that sweet cub,” Shadowheart agrees.

“Same here. But let’s try to find Halsin first. Once we’ve freed him, we can grab the owlbear on the way out.”

“We can still have some fun in the meantime though,” Astartion suggests. “What did you have in mind?” Tav asks. He opens his pack and flashes a bottle of Wyvern toxin at them. “We can cull some of the horde as we go. Watch this,” he grins toothily before swaggering away towards the vat of suspicious booze he had noticed earlier. He thumbs the cap of poison, concealing the flask in his sleeve. He loiters for a bit, watching as goblins meander past. He grabs a nearby discarded cup off of a table, covertly pouring the poison inside. He walks over to the punch bowl, pantomiming filling his cup as he slips the poison into the dubious punch. He takes a few fake sips from his glass as he walks back to the group.

“Battle is more honorable. But I suppose this is efficient,” Lae’Zel remarks. “That’s absolutely terrible” Tav admonishes. Astarion frowns in surprise, but Tav quickly drops the act. “I love it,” she says, smiling. “Now, let’s go, before they catch wise,” Astarion snickers, smiling back. The group beelines for the heavy doors to the temple, putting as much space between themselves and their crime as possible. “What will your evil little mind think of next?” Shadowheart says as they disappear deeper into danger.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion longfic #a taste of plums #astarion is bad at feelings #astarion x reader #the night shift #the goblin camp bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fic #astarion fluff #in a dark messed up kinda way

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iwashie · 2 days

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🌸 Tαlk to grow 🌸 S. Kita/ f!reader

It was past noon, and Shinsuke hadn't come back from the rice field yet. The sun was shining bright and hot for a non-fed and dehydrated Shinsuke, making you worried. You sighed, looking at the table full of food.

You put on a hat, the basket full of food and a bottle of tea in your hands, and went after him at a slow pace, hand caressing your belly. It was so hot and the basket weighed, making you think that perhaps it was too much food, but Shinsuke would be working hard all day. He deserved a good set of handmade food.

After wandering through the field, you found him crunched, his gloved hands working in the new bud of rice; you smiled soft while approaching him, listening to his mutter.

Shinsuke noticed you and faced you, seeing you carrying all those heavy things. He got up with a soft groan and took the basket and bottle, holding in an arm and, with the other hand, lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing the marriage ring.

“You should be resting, darling.” He said after a moment, guiding you to a shadow under a tree.

“I know, I know. But my dearest husband hadn't come home for lunch or a break, so I came with his supplies.” You said proud of yourself, head high and arms akimbo. Shinsuke giggled and thanked you with a kiss, helping you sit down.

You two sat in silence while he ate what you cooked for him, a pleased smile on his pink face, cheeks full of food; you smiled watching him appreciating your efforts, it made you feel so warm and loved by him.

“What were you grumbling in there, shin?” You handed him a napkin and filled a cup with tea for you.

“Thinking about why the new seeds haven't been growing yet.” He frowned, his eyes on the vast field, and you followed his gaze. The field was so teeming with rice ready to be harvested.

You hummed and faced him, his golden eyes already on you. “My mom used to talk to her flowers, and they'd grow up healthy. Maybe you should talk to it, so it'll grow up.”

He was silent, and his golden stare on you made you blush, avoiding his eyes. Shinsuke smiled, noticing the tip of your ears red, a chuckle leaving his mouth soon a laughter.

“Don't laugh at me, Shin!” You mumbled, still avoiding his eyes, and pushed him with your arm. He grabbed your arm, scooting closer, embracing you and kissing the top of your head.

“It's a pretty good idea.” He said, muffled by your hair. “My wife, besides being so skilled and generous, is very smart.”

“Shin…”

After kissing you back to your house and ensuring that you were safe at your slow pace until you disappeared from his eyesight , Shinsuke eyed the new seeds.

“Talking to you so you will grow up healthy, huh” He crunched again, ready to work.

You were sitting on the bed, comfortable in your pajamas, a light back pain that took a groan from you while stretching. Shinsuke made his way to you, kneeling between your legs, his head pressed to your swollen belly.

“You are giving your mom a hard time, little girl. Why don't you both take a rest, huh?” You stared at your husband, kissing and caressing your belly.

“She kicked!” He exclaimed, facing you with so much joy in those golden eyes. “She's listened to me!” He pressed his face again.

“Shin-”

“I'm talking to her, so she'll grow up healthy.” He whispered, his warm hands on your belly, and continued to talk to his baby girl, still inside you.

You were agaped for a moment and then laughed, your laugh shaking your entire body. You couldn't find words to describe that moment, just that you were bursting in love with Shinsuke Kita.

“Oh, she moved again.” You said, your hands on top of his.

“She likes your laughter, so do I.” His eyes disappeared in his broad smile.

“You both are so cheeky.” You ran your fingers through his gray and black strands as your daughter moved again, as if agreeing with you.

“I love my girls.” He whispered, kissing your belly and supporting himself on his hands to kiss you.

#iwashie work #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x you

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caramelcleopatraa · 8 hours

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Golden Hour

word count: 1k

x: finished this short thing in an hour at work...... nothing else to say... enjoy :)

content: You sing “Golden Hour” for Roman Reigns at his wedding. Roman x Semeni, Roman x Reader, angst

You had been invited to sing at a wedding. You were excited. You think. You haven't gotten to sing at a wedding in a long time. Of course, this was different this time. Who’s wedding? Roman and Semeni, your longtime friends that have stuck with you since high school, despite you all pursuing different paths. A pro wrestler, a singer, and a model. Who knew you three would go on to be so successful. But that’s not the thought lingering in your mind, no, your heart as you clutch the microphone with obnoxiously sweaty hands.

It was just two lovers

Sittin' in the car, listening to Blonde

Fallin' for each other

Pink and orange skies, feelin' super childish

No Donald Glover

Missed call from my mother

Like, "Where you at tonight?" Got no alibi

I was all alone with the love of my life

You stood at the front of the shiny marble dance floor, accompanied by a shiny, immense grand piano, and a string quartet. You stood farther out in front of the instruments to be seen, but not too far to the point where you were distracting. Singing Golden Hour for the newly wed as they twirled across the dancefloor, love written across their faces. You could almost smile. Almost

She's got glitter for skin

My radiant beam in the night

I don't need no light to see you

Shine

It's your golden hour (oh)

You slow down time

In your golden hour (oh)

God, that annoying, unbearable pain in your chest as you sang the song to your best ability, not showing the state you were trying to desperately betray. Why weren't you happy? Your best friend is getting married. It's not new news. Neither is the widespread burning in your chest. But you thought you had finally gotten over yourself. Countless journey entries, therapy sessions, hour phone calls to your friend Gianna, who tried her best to console you and be with you every time you called. But seeing them together, hand in hand, dancing along to your voice with their love for each other pushing and floating them across the floor. It was unendurable.

We were just two lovers

Feet up on the dash, drivin' nowhere fast

Burnin' through the summer

Radio on blast, make the moment last

She got solar power

Minutes feel like hours

She knew she was the baddest, can you even imagine

Fallin' like I did?

The string quartet sang along with you, cheering them on into their new path in life. Something you should be doing, but you're not. Closing your eyes. That's what you had resorted to doing. Closing your eyes, singing the best you could. You imagined a wonderful white and blue room, adorned with ambient lighting and clouds everywhere. Fog covered the ground, but formed around your feet as you walked through. So captivating, but free at the same time. You wore a wonderful white gown, with silver accessories that shined bright in any room. And you looked up at Roman, wearing a designer black suit, with a silver clip with etched in diamonds attached to his suit, and a blue handkerchief.

For the love of my life

She's got glow on her face

A glorious look in her eyes

My angel of light

I was all alone with the love of my life

She's got glitter for skin

My radiant beam in the night

He took your hand as you two moved across the thick fog. No audience, no guests or family members, just you two. Sharing a special intimate moment with each other. Letting your love cloud your mind. Interfere with your judgment. Living in this beautiful moment. Your whole body tingled, feeling a gust of cold wind, dispersing your picture perfect daydream. They had glided past you like two flies in the hot summer heat. Her gigantic snow white dress brushing your toes as they smile stayed still. Well it was working until now. It's almost as if her snapping you out of your daydream made it worse. If only it was real

I don't need no light to see you

Shine

It's your golden hour (oh)

You slow down time

In your golden hour (oh)

A singular tear rode down your painted face. Staining the layers of makeup you had put on hours before the occasion. The camera man took a picture of you, probably mistaking your hot tear for a tear of joy. He couldn’t be more wrong. God, why were you here? Why did you even offer to do this for them? You should’ve known that you were going to break. It hurts. Seeing them together. In love. In a celebration and cheers to future happy memories, here you are. Questioning your placement here. Among these happy souls, as you stare holes into the side of their head. With anger? Disgust? Sadness? You didn't know. Maybe all three. Maybe none. The piano quiets and the string quartet fades. They take one longing look at eachother, and kiss. A loud explosion of head pounding applause followed. And you fakely followed suit. You wonder if you would have been more forward with him, that you would be standing in her place. All of these people would be clapping with you instead of her. If you would have told her to leave him alone, maybe they would have never gotten married. And you wouldn't be standing there, cursing yourself for being so scared. You looked at him with longing, and her with confused jealousy. As she stood there, and danced with your first love. They looked at you with unnerving happiness, their eyes and smiles thanking you for giving them such a special moment to remember. And you smiled too, wiping your tears to make things seem more dramatic. But Roman's face changed. Seeing right through your paper thin smile. And you knew he would ask you about it later.

Can they even imagine falling like you did?

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

#caramelcleopatraa #roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #joe anoa'i #roman reigns x semeni #roman reigns angst #joe anoa’i #joe anoa'i x reader #joe anoa'i x black reader

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hazelira · 23 hours

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | JAKE

genres: fluff, angst, and comfort

word count: 769

summary: Y/N grapples with the pain of always being "the girl before the one" as she navigates her feelings for Jake. Despite their deep connection and her comfort in his presence, she fears being left behind again. Jake reassures her of his genuine affection and commitment through vulnerability and tender exchanges. This story explores the angst of feeling replaceable and the comfort of finding someone who truly sees and values you for who you are.