#Festival of The Purple Sea
Text
money, power, glory - coriolanus snow
on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor—after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?
cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo
the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.
you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.
you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness’ in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.
‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.
you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.
‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’
drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.
‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.
drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.
‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.
you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.
and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.
among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.
drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.
‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.
he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.
‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.
‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.
he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.
‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.
‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.
‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’
his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.
‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’
your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’
president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.
‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.
he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.
the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.
‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.
‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’
you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?
‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.
‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’
you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.
‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.
you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.
—
drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.
‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.
the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.
let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.
‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.
‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.
‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.
your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.
‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.
drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.
‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’
your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.
‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’
‘others?’ your voice falters.
‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.
you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.
you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.
you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.
every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?
—
the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.
your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.
without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.
you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.
you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.
you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.
the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.
you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.
‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.
you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.
‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.
you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.
‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.
‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’
you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.
‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.
in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?
‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.
you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?
‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.
you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.
he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.
‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.
‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.
‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’
you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.
‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’
your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?
‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.
‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.
‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.
‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’
he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.
‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’
you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.
he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.
his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?
but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.
‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.
your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.
‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.
‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.
he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.
‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.
‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.
‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.
your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.
he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.
‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.
your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.
‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.
your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.
‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.
you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.
‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.
‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.
‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’
you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.
finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.
you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.
you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.
'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.
his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.
'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.
feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.
hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.
'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.
your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.
'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.
and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.
'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.
you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.
‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.
when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.
‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.
you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.
he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.
he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.
he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.
‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.
you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.
‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’
you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.
‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.
you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.
'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.
'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.
'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.
he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.
'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.
you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.
as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.
‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.
you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.
‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.
you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.
‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.
‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.
‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.
the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.
you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.
‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.
‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.
you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.
you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!
‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’
when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.
‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.
he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.
'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.
another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.
'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'
the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.
'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.
coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.
when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.
‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.
your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.
‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’
#coriolanus snow#tom blyth#coriolanus snow x reader#tbosbas#hunger games#smut#coryo x reader#the hunger games#fanfic#tbosbas fanfic#tbosbas smut#the hunger games smut#the hunger games x reader#x reader#female x reader#tom blyth x reader#drabble#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus snow smut#tbosbas x reader#coriolanus x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine#tom blyth fanfiction#the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Some Professor Widogast thoughts:
So, you know about how weird it is to see a teacher outside of a school setting? That’d definitely be a thing with the Academy students, but at least for most of the Professors it was at normal places like the market or at Balls or whatever. Not Caleb, though, or well yess also then but also other times.
Like you’re a fancy rich kid, you go to fancy wizard school, and you’re doing a rebellion by sneaking out to this underground club with these crazy new age bards and a bar and a fight ring. You feel so badass and then you get there and your Transmutation 101 teacher is there, drunk, getting playfully grinded on the left and right by a purple tiefling and a married halfling that’s husband is dancing on her- and you just leave. Just right away. You don’t even have time to notice Expositor Lionnet trying to get to second base with her wife right behind them.
One student is from a prominent land owner in the Zemni Fields, their family goes to Blumnethal’s festivals to set up stands to sell wares and have a good time. They go to a fight pit that they hear is really cool, they have a keg stand and everything, and they get there and their teacher who’s pushing 40 and teaches their ‘Advanced Components 205’ every Wednesday is doing a keg stand, being held upside down by a blue tiefling and a half orc dressed like they stepped out of smut book with a sea theme, while two scary looking lesbians and and Halfling in sundress cheer him on. And when they let him down, the whole group immediately jumps into the fighting ring and destroy the competition even though the Halfling looks like they are too drunk to see and none of them are in decent gear. The group gets bored right away, start a three way shoulder war/chicken fight, which goes to hell right way because they all try to cheat. The Monk has their Professor in some sort of leg lock when the student’s father drags them out.
A student’s family goes on summer vacation to Nicodranas. To their horror, they find out that Professor Widogast and his friends don’t believe in bathing suits when they go to the beach.
The best part? Everytime something like this happens, nobody believes it.
645 notes
·
View notes
Text
...
Not Requested |
Fluff |
High School Gojo x reader |
Warnings |None
You'd woken up to see the sun went down. After the day of festivities you wanted some silence, and bask in the ambiance. As a sorcerer, this was a rare opportunity to enjoy the good in life so you wasted no time, throwing on your beach hells and a coverup over your purple bikini. As exited the room and gaze at the moonlit beach, you spot Gojo Satoru sitting alone on a couch looking off into the distance, his striking figure illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Under the dim light he looks so heavenly, all by himself and uncharacteristically silent, but otherworldly all the same. As you draw nearer, you can't help but be captivated by this heavenly essence and the arrow cupid shot at you hurts— he was simply too good for this world, especially his mesmerising eyes despite the burden it brought upon him. Your heart flutters with anticipation as you approach him slowly, wanting to make your presence known without startling him.
"Hey there, handsome," you call out playfully, your voice carrying on the gentle ocean breeze.
Gojo turns to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but it quickly transforms into a charming smile. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite tease," he quips, his tone laced with amusement. You chuckle and stop in front of him, within arms reach and lean down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "What are you doing here all by yourself, precious?" you ask, genuinely curious.
"I'm just enjoying the view," he replies, his eyes gazing out at the vast sea and the shimmering moonlit waves. You know its more than that, though, with the way he taps his finger along the back of your thigh, he squeezes gently before taking a palm and pressing it to his lips, your heart melts. It doesn't take much for him to continue naturally. You were his comfort, you were his home."For once, I feel like I have a family. The people at Jujutsu High and Riko, they mean a lot to me…you know? You guys…are the first people to treat me like I'm more than six eyes, that I'm more than just Gojo." He's distant, just a bit. His eyes land on your form, and your breath is taken away, for the millionth time. Your heart swells with affection for him, admiring the vulnerable side he rarely shows— as in rarely. "You do have a family," you say tenderly, reaching out to lightly touch his hand. "And I'm part of it too, you know."
Gojo gives you a playful smirk. "Oh, really? Since when did you become such a sap?"
You laugh, not missing a beat. "Since I met you, Gojo. You bring out the best in me." He laughs, spreading his legs as an inspiration for you to sit, and he holds your leg, lightly passing his palm along it. It's then you realise his infinity is off, and you keep that in mind.The two of you engage in light banter and teasing as the night goes on. There's an undeniable romantic tension between you, and you can feel the air shift…it's dark, the moon is out and the ocean breeze caresses your hair. You're still in your bikini— and he tugs on the sting of the bottom piece. It's such an innocent act, his attention is on you completely and you know that. You enjoy flustering him by brushing your fingers against his cheek, kissing his nose or playfully ruffling his hair, revelling in the way he stammers for words, something that rarely happens to the ever-confident Gojo Satoru.
But— even amidst all the teasing, you never hesitate to lend him a helping hand when he needs it— not that he does— whether it's in a battle against curses or simply providing a listening ear when he's troubled. Your flirty and hot persona never overshadows the genuine care and concern you have for him. He's your best friend, after all and you were more obsessed with him that he could ever know.
As the night deepens, you find yourselves sitting closer together, your knees almost touching. You gaze deeply into his pretty eyes, your heart pounding loudly in your chest— you just have to say something you can't do this. You can't hide this anymore. "You know, my gem," you say softly, "you have the most captivating eyes I've ever seen. They're like galaxies, filled with endless wonders. I could never get tired of them."
Gojo seems taken aback by your straightforward compliment, but he can't help but be enchanted by your sincerity. "And you have a way with words," he replies, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "You always leave me speechless."
Smiling, you lean in closer until your faces are mere inches apart. "I've got a question for you," you whisper, your breath mingling with his.
He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Ask away." But you didn't know what to say, your mind blanked out and you didn't know what to say. He knows though, he knows, so he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender and passionate kiss. It's so weird because you never imagined that Gojo Satoru would accept your feelings. You never imagined that this man, this god before you would fall for you. He lets out a breathy whimper, and the moment it reaches your ears you could feel yourself grow weak and you collapse into his arms, hands buried in his hair as he grabs your waist. The moment is everything you fantasised about and more. In your dreams he was more dominating but here he's soft and tender. Your heart soars as you realize that your feelings are truly reciprocated, and you revel in the newfound joy that fills both your hearts. You have always admired Gojo Satoru, but now you have something even more special – a deep and passionate connection that goes beyond friendship. When you finally pull away it's silent. "Fuck— I just— this is…God you're so pretty."
"And you're so handsome."
"Oh baby I know, but you? You are just out of this world." He makes you smile, and he leans in to kiss your cheek, then your chin, along your jaw, your ear—
"(Y/n), I want to be your one and only."
"You already are."
…
#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo imagine#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru oneshot#gojo satoru drabble#satoru gojo x reader
894 notes
·
View notes
Text
Craving
Summary: Hunter sees you in a dress and doesn’t know how long he can wait to get his hands on you.
Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW. 18+. Smut, PiV, cunnilingus. Established relationship. Hunter being horny.
Word Count: 3500
Author’s Note: Wow this took me way longer than anticipated to finish! This is a spiritual successor to my Crosshair fic Handful. There was a dear anon who requested this (awhile ago, I’m sorry it took me awhile haha).
Please enjoy Hunter being horny over reader in a dress. Once again, this takes place on Pabu where everyone is happy. It’s what they all deserve, dammit! Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy. 💛
Hunter was suffering. He was absolutely, positively suffering.
His grip on the supply container was faltering, his eyes transfixed on you at the end of the dock.
Hunter was supposed to be helping Wrecker haul supplies from the dock to where the festival was being set up, but he hadn't made much progress, or any at all.
You were wearing a new dress, one that immediately resulted in all of Hunter’s senses going haywire when he saw you in it earlier in the day.
You had emerged from the bedroom adorned in the lightweight sundress, rushing out the door with Omega to meet Phee at the docks to help with setup.
You had volunteered to help Phee and Shep put on a cultural festival, taking on most of the organizational tasks, so you’ve been busy the last week with last-minute setup duties.
Games, food, performances, it was going to have all the works. You wanted it to be perfect for everyone, and today was the day.
You kissed him quickly on the lips, saying you’d see him later.
Before he could even respond or compliment the new clothing, you and Omega were gone.
Hunter was left with the image of your backside jiggling under the flimsy, short dress as you shut the front door of your shared bungalow behind you.
Your shoulders and neck were completely exposed, thighs on full display. Thighs that he already knew were going to be wrapped around his head later that evening.
How you looked in that split-second has been replaying in his brain all day, waiting for the moment he can get you alone, thinking of all the delicious cries he’ll pull from your plump lips as he pleasures you beyond comprehension.
He needed to feel you under his hands and see how much more of you he can get to jiggle under that dress. Hunter needed to trace your curves and peel back the thin material inch by inch, tasting and worshiping every centimeter of your body.
“Hunter, ya need help?” Wrecker stepped in front of him, blocking Hunter’s view of you, interrupting his fantasy.
Hunter blinked, coming back to reality.
Wrecker had easily hauled his share of supplies and Hunter’s pile was almost untouched.
“Oh yeah, sorry. I’m just a bit distracted today.” Hunter huffed as he lifted the crate fully. Wrecker grabbed a few more, precariously balancing them in his arms.
“Heh, I’m excited about the festival, too!” Wrecker smiled, assuming Hunter was distracted for other reasons.
“Everyone has been working hard to make it happen. I heard there’s going to be LOTS of good food!” Hunter nodded, half-listening while watching you out of the corner of his eye.
You were inspecting a crate of unfamiliar-looking fruits, making sure they were acceptable to sell at the festival.
A slight breeze coming off the sea was rustling your dress, lifting the hem and exposing more of your thighs, giving Hunter another view that made his body burn under the already hot sun.
Hunter swallowed thickly, feeling sweaty as he walked with Wrecker, thinking he might not be able to wait until after the festival to have his way with you.
The sun was setting over the calm ocean, a full moon peeking out from behind clouds, stars blinking into existence as the sky turned a deep purple.
The festival was in full swing, laugher, music, and mouth-watering scents hanging in the air. Hunter barely had a chance to talk to you all day, since you were busy making sure the festival was going according to plan.
As he walked through the crowd, he spotted Crosshair with Omega at one of the game booths, while Wrecker was chatting up one of the food vendors.
Tech was with Phee, trying to explain in excruciating detail the significance of a cultural dance that was being performed.
Echo was sharing wine with a local artist, admiring their paintings, though his eyes were mostly admiring the artist.
Hunter smiled to himself, pleased to see his family just be…happy.
Comfortable.
Ordinary.
Hunter never imagined himself settling down anywhere with anyone. Yet here he was, with you, the love of his life, and Omega, who now has stability and can be the child she deserved to be.
Ever since you all decided to settle on Pabu, you immersed yourself with the people of the island, often helping Phee in the museum, cataloging artifacts, and helping newcomers settle into their new lives.
Hunter was proud of you, seeing how much work and energy you put into making this festival happen and knew how much it meant to you for it to be successful.
Hunter was scanning the crowd, trying to find you. You were still busy, running around and making sure all the festival-goers were satisfied.
You needed to remember to enjoy yourself, too, and Hunter was going to make sure of that.
Hunter grabbed two cups of wine, finally finding you in the crowd.
You were speaking with some musicians who were about to begin their performance, making sure they started on time to ensure the performers after them stayed on schedule.
Hunter couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful you looked in the setting sun, his heart swelling at how lucky he was to have you. Something else began to swell in his pants, watching your hips sway under the silky looking dress material. You were still wearing the dress from earlier, his fantasy not forgotten.
You heard your name, turned, and saw Hunter walk toward you, holding the wine.
You excused yourself from the musicians, realizing you hadn’t seen him all day. You felt a little guilty, smiling as he approached you.
“Everything going okay, mesh’la?”
You nodded, taking the wine you realized you needed.
“Yes, even though I just had to tell Crosshair to cool it on the ring-tossing game. You won’t believe how many stuffed tookas Omega has now…”
Hunter chuckled as he kissed your temple, his arm coming around your lower back, bringing you in close.
“Everyone is having a good time…do you have time to take a break? I’ve missed you today.”
You let out a soft sigh. “I know…you know how I can get. I just wanted tonight to go perfectly for everyone.”
You sipped the sweet wine, watching Hunter’s eyes darken as he pulled away, his eyes roaming your form.
“It is, I promise. You should be proud of yourself for organizing this. I’m proud of you.”
You smiled at his words, feeling his hand ghost across the top of your ass. “Thank you, Hunter. I feel like I owe it to the people here for accepting us so quickly.” Hunter nodded in agreement, still subtly feeling up your ass.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to watch the performance, but I think you have something else on your mind.” You raised your eyebrows at him, seeing a familiar glint of need in his eyes.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you how irresistible you look in this dress.” His voice dropped an octave into a smokey whisper as his lips brushed over your earlobe. “I’d love to show you…if you have the time.”
Hunter moved his arm from your waist, running his hand down your side, lightly pinching at your hip, feeling the fabric between his fingertips.
Kriff, it was softer than he imagined. Hunter’s hungry eyes met yours, and you knew what he was thinking.
You sipped your wine, a coy smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you. I was hoping you’d like it. I think I do have time for a break.”
You traced your hand over his chest, throwing him a devilish look. Hunter took that as a yes, quickly taking the wine from you and setting both your cups down.
He took your arm, leading you through the crowd until you were on the outskirts of the activities. You quickly walked down an empty corridor, the sounds of the celebration fading.
Mesh’la…” He growled in your ear as he led you down an empty alleyway, smelling the wine on his breath.
“I don’t think I can wait any longer…to show you how good you look.” His dexterous fingers slid up your body, the flimsy material of the dress exciting him, knowing what lays beneath.
You shuddered as he licked your earlobe, gently taking it into his mouth before lightly dragging his canines ran down your neck.
You were trying to stay quiet, but his alluring utterances and touches forced whimpers to leave your lips.
“I need you.” His voice was ragged, breathing in the sweet arousal on your skin, mixing with the salty twilight air.
You grasped his wide shoulders as he nipped and sucked at your skin, feeling his cock harden against your stomach. You let out a whine at the sensation, your own need growing intensely.
“Can you feel what you do to me?” He husked, pulling away and looking directly into your eyes. “Every since I saw you this morning, I’ve been wanting to fuck you in this dress.” You could feel how wet your panties were now, realizing how turned on he was by your outfit.
Hunter’s lips were on yours, vigorous and all-consuming. Your knees buckled at his eager kiss as he slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders.
“H-Hunter someone could see…” you broke away from his impassioned kiss momentarily, realizing how hot and heavy you were getting in the alleyway. His chest reverberated with a deep laugh.
“Let them see - let them see how lucky I am to have someone like you…” his lips were on you again, this time his large hands slipping over your ass, giving a hearty squeeze that made you squeal.
Hunter’s grip slipped under your thighs, hauling you up and pressing you into the wall. Your arms flew around his neck for purchase, his groin pressing hotly into your center.
“But maybe it’s time to head home, what do you think?” He sucked on your collarbone, kissing up to your bare shoulder, nibbling and sucking as he went. “We have the place to ourselves, let’s make good use of it, hm? I’ve been biding my time to get you alone.”
You nodded, remembering Omega was spending the night with Lyana after the festival.
“I don’t think we’ll be missed, we won’t be gone for too long…” Hunter stopped, waiting for your answer.
You slid your palm down to his crotch, rubbing his painfully hard length through his pants, giving him your answer. “I suppose I can reward you for your patience.” You purred, palming him slowly. “I won’t make you wait any longer.”
The second you got through the front door, Hunter was all over you. His hands roamed, bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and squeezing your breasts through the dress.
Goosebumps erupted all over your hot skin, even in the tropical Pabu air.
Craving burned hot in your veins, your nails digging into his wavy locks. You tugged lightly, causing him to groan against your mouth, knowing he liked it when you pulled at his hair.
You don’t remember when he removed your panties and bra, or how you got on the bed, but now he was hovering over you, his clothes discarded.
A predatory look flashed in his eyes as he took all of you in beneath him.
The way the dress hugged your features, leaving little to the imagination, set his senses ablaze.
He could see your hard nipples poking through the dress, your delicious curves highlighted almost sinfully as you gazed up at him, the same want in your eyes as was in his.
The feeling of the soft fabric was maddening, greedily grabbing fistfuls of your soft flesh as his hands explored your voluptuous form.
He was still groping as he planted wet, sloppy kisses up to your ear.
“I want to take you in this dress.” Hunter licked at your pulse point, feeling your heart rate increase under his tongue.
“How do you want me?” You gasped, needing more of him by the second.
“I want you on my face.”
His voice was husky, his words thick with feverish cravings that sent lightning bolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“Is that okay?”
You nodded dumbly, your thoughts muddled by passion.
Hunter let out a low grunt of approval as he rolled off you, laying on his back, beckoning you to him. How could you deny him, especially when he looked like this?
His eyes were hooded, his breath labored, some of his curly hair falling haphazardly out of his bandana. Hunter’s control was already unraveling and you’ve barely gotten started.
“I know how wet you are, mesh’la. Let me help you. Let me taste your perfect pussy.”
A shudder ran down your spine as you you crawled over and positioned yourself over his head, hiking up your dress as your thighs surrounded his face. You braced yourself on the headboard, looking down at the man between your legs.
Hunter’s pupils were blown with wild lust as he gazed up at your pussy, his mouth watering with anticipation.
“I don’t want to-I don’t want to hurt you or-“ You whispered, trembling at his breath ghosting over your exposed cunt.
Hunter chuckled, carefully caressing your thighs, his touch gentle. “You could never hurt me. And if this is how I go, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gave your thighs a curt squeeze.
“Now sit on me, please.”
Hunter clutched the soft flesh of your ass, keeping your dress pulled up as he drew you down to his mouth. The second his tongue eagerly lapped at your folds, you let out a high-pitched whimper, your chin falling to your chest. “Hunter…! Oh, stars…”
Hunter began licking and probing, switching between fucking you as deep as he could with his tongue and suckling on your clit. It was almost overwhelming, your airy mewls becoming heavy moans as Hunter devoured you from beneath.
Hunter let out a primal growl as your arousal soaked his face. Your inner thighs were now coated in your slick, your clit swelling with every suck and pass of his tongue.
All your nerves were on fire, heat bubbling in your lower belly, the obscene sounds of Hunter lapping and practically purring beneath you was building your release quickly.
Hunter’s senses were ablaze, his hips instinctually bucking, his cock weeping as his face remained buried underneath you, intensely focused on your pleasure.
Hunter loved feeling the weight and warmth of you on his face, hearing every sweet cry that left your lips, inhaling the scent of your sex. It was almost overwhelmingly perfect. You were perfect.
He was at the core of you, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Hunter’s fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, your dress bunched in his fists as he licked long stripes up and down your swollen lips. He made sure to keep the pressure on your clit, feeling your thigh muscles constrict around his head.
“Hunter…I’m close…don’t stop…” You could barely form a coherent sentence as he continued his feast.
Your thighs were quivering, your dress sticking to your body, and you were letting the most lewd sounds escape your throat, not holding back and letting Hunter know how he was making you feel.
You were gripping the headboard so hard you thought it might crack under your grip.
Burning heat was licking in your loins, a molten coil tightening and threatening to spring loose with every move of Hunter’s tongue, his thick muscle rolling and pressing against your clit.
You glanced down, finding it tough to keep your eyes open, and the look in Hunter’s eyes looking back at you between your legs was what sent you over the edge.
His eyes were blown with lust, black and deep, a carnal determination to feel your release on his tongue and taste every drop.
You threw your head back, his name a chant leaving your lips as you convulsed over him, your muscles spasming up as your orgasm rocked your entire being.
Hunter let out a satisfied groan, keeping you down tight against his face, letting you grind and ride your orgasm against him, not slowing his tongue and lips sucking at your clit. He didn’t want to miss a single drop.
You began to relax, your thighs now jelly, trying to get air back in your lungs. Hunter’s ministrations slowed, and you slid off of him, laying at his side.
“Mesh’la…” Hunter made no move to clean off his face, shining with your juices.
“I’ve been waiting all day for that. You taste incredible. As always.”
You were trying to come back down from the atmosphere, your mind spinning with the intensity of your orgasm, but still needing more.
“Now, how do you want me?”
Hunter asked, sultry as he licked some of your slick off his lips, savoring your taste.
“In your lap. I want to ride your cock.” You knew this was one of his favorite positions since he was able to feel all of you, and it made his heightened senses short-circuit every time.
Hunter didn’t need another second to comply, maneuvering himself to sit against the headboard. “Yes, ma’am.”
His eyes flashed as you sat up, lowering yourself in his lap. “Take my cock. I’m all yours.”
“Do you still want the dress on?” You asked sweetly, sliding your still sensitive pussy against his throbbing cock.
“Yes.” He rubbed his hands on your ass, feeling the soft fabric and your supple flesh underneath, the sensations driving him mad. “Kriff, yes.”
He pressed his face into your neck as you lowered yourself on top, taking in all of him. The stretch was wonderful, finally having him inside you, hearing the hitch in his breathing as he bottomed out.
Hunter grunted, feeling your tight muscle clench around him.
“You look ‘sgood in this dress…feel ‘so good…I love you…” He slurred as you bounced on him, all of the sensations you were giving him building almost too quickly.
You grasped at his shoulders for leverage, moving up and down, feeling every ridge and vein of his thick cock against your walls, your whines and mewls matching his deep groans as you increase your pace.
You knew he wouldn’t last long like this, and didn’t want him to hold back.
Hunter clutched your waist, thrusting up against you to match yours, driving deeper into you.
Your sounds, your smell, he could feel his end building fast.
“I’m not going to last…” He rasped, now licking at your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, adding to your pleasure. His thrusts up into you became stronger, hitting that magical spot so deep inside you, your eyes rolled back into your head.
Hunter hastily slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders once again, tugging the front down to expose your breasts,needing to feel your pebbled nipples on his tongue.
All you could do was let out breathy gasps, another orgasm building to a breaking point with each snap of his hips and debauched slurp as he sloppily sucked your tits.
“Hunter…I love you…I love the way you make me feel…oh stars…keep going…” Your words faded into gibberish as his mouth teased and tantalized your breasts, his movements becoming erratic.
“Cum for me. I want to hear you, feel you…cum on my cock…please…” Hunter’s voice was guttural, desperate, murmuring between suckling and nipping at your tits with his teeth.
You were delirious at this point, your breasts being ravished by his mouth as he kneaded and groped your thighs and ass, his cock bringing you closer and closer to the glorious edge with every frantic movement of his hips.
“Hunter…you feel so good, make me feel so good…”
“That’s right…you take me so well, you’re beautiful like this…I can feel everything…”
Not only was he feeling his pleasure, he could feel yours too.
Hunter could hear every subtle change in pitch of your moans, feel every muscle twitch in your cunt as you milked him, smell the overpowering scent of your sweat and arousal…he was undone.
Hunter let out a muffled shout against your chest as he came hard, erupting inside you. Hunter wrapped his arms around your torso, tugging you flush against him as he rode out his pleasure.
His cock twitched and swelled inside you as he frantically bucked his hips, filling you to the brim, feeling the warmth spread in your cunt.
Only you were graced with the privilege to see your Sergeant fall apart like this. He was a mess, letting out low moans as his senses amplified every sensation.
Your orgasm followed right after, his cock rubbing your clit in just the right way, still sensitive from before. You cried his name like a prayer of devotion, holding him close as ecstasy blossomed throughout your body. “Hunter…oh Maker…Hunter…!”
Hunter kept his head huddled into your neck, his breath fanning across your chest as he listened to your heartbeat and felt your wet warmth flutter around his softening cock.
Your movements slowed, basking in one another, not quite ready for him to leave you or for you to leave him.
You couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle as he looked up at you, a small smile on his lips, his face still glistening with your juices from before.
“Was that a nice enough break?” He whispered. You smiled back at him, kissing him softly.
“Yes.” Was all you could say, still trying to catch your breath. You moved off him, laying down on the bed, already missing how he felt buried inside you as you re-adjusted your dress.
Hunter hummed in contentment, rising off the bed and heading into the refresher. He walked back moments later with a damp towel, wiping the inside of your thighs and gently cleaning you up.
“You’re a mess.” He smirked. “You can’t go back to the festival looking like this.”
You sat up, playfully nudging his shoulder. “I have you to thank for that.”
Hunter kissed you, cupping your cheek and tracing his thumb over your flushed face. “I can’t help that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. With or without the dress.”
He pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your face.
“I’ll have to add it into my weekly rotation.” You teased. “I’d prefer daily.” Hunter smirked, kissing you sweetly again.
Hunter laid next to you, and you rested your head against his chest, tracing your fingertips over his tattoo that ran down his torso. “We should get back soon…” You muttered.
Hunter’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow. “Mmm…yeah…” was all he could muster.
“If I’m not there to stop Crosshair from winning every game, there won’t be prizes left for anyone.” Hunter laughed, cracking open his eyes. “We better get back then.” Neither of you moved, still relishing in one another.
You hummed, thinking. “Ten more minutes won’t hurt.”
Hunter smiled. “Fifteen?”
“Omega might come back with an army of stuffed tookas by then.”
Hunter playfully sighed. “Okay, ten minutes. But only if you promise to wear that dress the rest of the night.”
Hunter may not be a soldier any longer, but his reflexes and strength still remained.
He had you pinned underneath him in an instant, his lips centimeters from yours. “I’m not done with you, yet.”
Your breath hitched at his provocative promise for later, one that he fulfilled over and over again after the festival ended, even after your dress was long discarded.
Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @littlemissmanga @secretthegriffin @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @523rdrebel @dukeoftheblackstar @sleepingsun501 @pb-jellybeans
Taglist Signup
#Hunter x reader#Hunter tbb x reader#Hunter x you#Hunter tbb x you#Hunter tbb#the bad batch fanfiction#the bad batch smut#the bad batch#Hunter smut#tbb#tbb Hunter#starrycatwrites#clone thirsting#x reader#reader insert#sergeant hunter#tbb fanfiction
622 notes
·
View notes
Note
What are some ways to describe summer ?
Summer is not just a season; it’s a vibrant setting that can add life and color to your writing. Whether you’re crafting a sun-soaked romance or a beach thriller, the way you describe summer can immerse readers in your story. Let’s dive into how you can capture the essence of summer, focusing on the various senses and elements that make this season unique.
Sights
Sunsets that paint the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple.
Children chasing ice cream trucks down suburban lanes.
Sunbathers dotting the coastline.
Sprinklers casting rainbows across freshly mowed lawns.
Flower gardens in full bloom, a riot of colours.
Sunglasses showing reflections of the bright world.
Sun hats and flip-flops scattered around pool decks.
Fireflies illuminating the night.
Street markets bustling with locals buying fresh produce.
Hikers on forest trails.
Sounds
The cacophony of cicadas in the late afternoon.
Waves crashing against the shore in a constant rhythm.
The sizzle and pop of barbecues in backyards.
Children’s laughter as they play outside.
Ice clinking in glasses of lemonade or cocktails.
The distant whirr of lawn mowers.
Splashes and shouts from swimming pools.
Chirping songbirds greeting the morning.
The crackle of bonfires during cool summer nights.
The melodic chimes of ice cream trucks roaming the streets.
Smells
The salty tang of sea air at the beach.
The overpowering scent of chlorinated pools.
Freshly cut grass after morning lawn care.
The scent of sunscreen and tanning oils on warm skin.
The smoky aroma of grills at a neighborhood cookout or family barbeque.
Fragrant blossoms like jasmine and roses in full bloom.
The earthy smell of rain on hot pavement.
The mix of fruits, vegetables, fried food, and flowers at an open-air market.
Melting tar with an accompanying heat shimmer on hot roads.
Campfire smoke clinging to clothes and hair during outdoor adventures.
Activities
Beach volleyball games, sand flying as players dive for the ball.
Leisurely picnics in the shade of ancient trees.
Hiking trips taking advantage of the long daylight hours.
Sailing and boating, the wind filling sails on sunlit waters.
Outdoor concerts, where music floats on the warm night air.
Road trips with car windows down, hair whipping in the wind.
Fruit picking in orchards and berry farms.
Camping under the stars, a tent and a sleeping bag for a home.
Water fights with hoses, water guns, and balloons.
Attending summer festivals full of food, music, and dance.
Character body language
Wiping sweat from the brow or fanning themselves to cool down.
Squinting against the harsh sunlight or seeking out spots of shade.
Sipping cold drinks, or gulping down water.
Lounging lazily, limbs relaxed and sprawled out.
Applying sunscreen meticulously.
Adjusting sunglasses or hats for better protection.
Dipping toes tentatively into the sea or a pool.
Tugging at clothes sticking to sweat-dampened skin.
Laughing with carefree abandon, a reflection of summer’s ease.
Turning pages of a paperback with fingers damp from pool water.
Positive descriptions
The liberating feeling of diving into cool water on a scorching day.
The tranquil peace of a sunrise beach yoga session.
The simple pleasure of ice cream melting on the tongue.
The bliss of a hammock nap swayed by a gentle breeze.
The joy of endless blue skies promising adventure.
The warmth of sun-kissed skin after a day outdoors.
The satisfaction of a well-tended garden coming to life.
The contentment of sharing a sunset with loved ones.
The thrill of catching the perfect wave while surfing.
The comfort of balmy evenings spent on porch swings.
Negative descriptions
The oppressive heat making the air feel thick and suffocating.
The relentless buzzing of mosquitoes on a muggy night.
The sting of sunburn after a day of neglecting sunscreen.
The frustration of packed tourist spots and overcrowded beaches.
The exhaustion induced by long days and sweltering heat.
The discomfort of air thick with humidity.
The annoyance of sand finding its way into every nook and cranny.
The disappointment of a rained-out picnic or canceled event.
The lethargy of a heatwave, energy sapped by the relentless sun.
The discomfort of trying to sleep in an overheated, uncooled room.
Helpful Adjectives
Scorching
Balmy
Sultry
Languid
Radiant
Dazzling
Parched
Breezy
Rippling
Sweltering
Sunny
Lush
Blistering
Tropical
Vibrant
Humid
Verdant
Golden
Glowing
Fragrant
Torrid
Tranquil
Crisp
Sizzling
Flaming
Steamy
Refreshing
Shimmering
Lazy
Stifling
Invigorating
Sparkling
Zesty
Fervent
Stuffy
Arid
Saturated
Juicy
Sunbaked
Fetid
#writing tips#writing asks#writers#creative writing#writing#writing community#writers of tumblr#creative writers#writing inspiration#writeblr#writerblr#writblr#writers corner#writers community#Tumblr writers#tips for writers#helping writers#resources for writers#writing reference#writer#writing advice#writing resources#writers on tumblr#writers block#how to write#writers and poets#writing tips and tricks#writing help#help for writers#advice for authors
141 notes
·
View notes
Text
Agreement with the Sun
An Arataki Itto x Reader Fanfic
Tags: Arataki Itto x Ruler!Reader, Fake Marriage, Made-up means of governance for Inazuma haha, SLOW BURN (At least I think it is <3), Reader is reserved but a little arrogant, Workaholic Reader, Himbo! Arataki Itto, Sunshine Arataki Itto, Eventual Fluff
Author's Note: Wow I actually gained the courage and posted this fic! Constructive criticism is much welcomed! Take note, I got too silly...
First Sunrise, First Moonfall - A Child of Ame-no-Uzume
🎶
O, Sunkissed Moon, beloved by the Sun,
Its rays kiss your face, love questioned by none
🎶
He didn’t know what he expected. But, definitely not this.
If only he could get into a spar right now. Bust some bad guys with a jab, left-right, and a 'kapow!' that would be sure to wake him! But instead, the insanely boring stacks and stacks of papers made his eyes heavy even though he usually slept with his eyes open. Like, dude, what were these even for? It was a waste of good trees if you ask Itto.
If only he could catch some awesome beetles, he would have some fun with a bunch of kids by now and finally break his ridiculous losing streak which has been a major headache! However, two out of three cups of tea got cold from the incredibly long conversation by nerds who he would rather not upset unless he wanted to live in a nightmare.
Without having anything fun to do, he just spaced out. After all, Itto was surrounded by walls made of the finest purple silk and materials. Its design resembled the gentle waves of the sea and the eloquent color of electro. He eyed the gifts of foreign jade trinkets, placed proudly on quality wooden tables and the illuminating lanterns crested with Inazuma’s proud element. The scent of fine sakura perfume wafted through the air in the dim yet well lit room in Tenshukaku.
Man. He shouldn’t be spacing out like this! He is Arataki Itto for archon’s sake! The Arataki "Above All, Bold-Blooded" Itto! He can do whatever he wants… So why couldn’t he do all those he would rather do?
Well, it was because of you, The reigning ruler of Inazuma. He didn’t realize there was another ruler other than the Raiden Shogun. He didn’t really care who is in charge of Inazuma as long as he can live life as much as he wants, but maybe, you were also the reason why the humans became friendly to the onis and the rest of the yokai. He huffed, only a little as to not interrupt the conversation you and Shinobu had.
If only he wasn’t so awesomely charming and handsome that night!
You were just looking around that night. You were tiny, small compared to him, maybe, a little shy. With your cloaked figure, were you possibly a traveler?
"Hey, man! You look like you ain't around here!" he chirped as he tapped your shoulder and his hand returned to his hips. "Enjoying the festival so far?"
"Oh. I actually live in Inazuma. I just don't come out often."
"An introvert! Hey, gotta respect that. You know, a lot of cool people I know are introverts like the renowned golden-haired traveler! Savior of Dragons, Conqueror of the Abyss, Teyvat's hero! Too bad, they ain't here though. Miss 'em." You nodded at his words as you dropped your hood down. And here it is, Itto always knew he was talented since birth at making friends! You finally lowered your guard, and you even gave him a smile.
…Hm? Pretty?
"Haha. I did meet them. I'm glad they reunited." Oh, so you knew the Traveler’s goals too? You’d have to get pretty close to them to do that. Just who are you, small mysterious person? "I haven't enjoyed the festival yet. I don't really know what to do," you added with fingertips pressed together and an awkward smile.
A smile curled up and a loud boisterous voice emerged from Itto, "Hahaha! Well, you are in luck, my compadre! I, Arataki the "Festival King of Fun and Revelry" Itto is here to serve you! When there's fun to be had, I am most undoubtedly there!" Oh, he could feel that adrenaline pumping into his veins! He has to get the gang into this! He looked over at his growing gang and shouted, "Hey, guys! Let's show 'em how to rock a real Festival!"
That was how the great Arataki Itto managed to get the seemingly-uptight you to a night of holler and laughs. What surprised him the whole night was not during the height of the clinking drinks and shared enthusiasm, but during the distant singing of an old man and the diminishing hype of the night. Shinobu had just pointed out your status as ruler, as the esteemed sun of Inazuma.
No way. No way.
You know how to party, he'll give you that. But, he can't believe he has been picking up, carrying you, oni-handling the second-in-command from the Raiden Shogun like a bunch of boxes… For the whole night no less!
He was also crazy loud, and he hoped he didn't say a joke that was offensive that could ruin his 150-day streak without getting into jail.
He began to shove the feeling of cold sweat in the backroom of his mind, and Itto smirked as his pointer and thumb framed the chin of his gorgeous face, "Heh, looks like Arataki the "Festival king of Fun and Revelry" served a hotshot tonight! Was my service just as awesome as you expected, esteemed sun?"
You let out a laugh. "Mister Arataki, you are adorable."
Shinobu and Itto flinched and widened their eyes. A hoot of laughter was so unusual to see from someone who is deemed stoic by the public. And, a compliment? Surely, Itto has greatly achieved many things tonight compared to everyone else in Inazuma. Of course, it is expected of the oni king! And, "Mister Arataki"? Prissy and pretty name to add to the long list of titles and all, but where did the sudden politeness come from? He just remembered that you were calling him "Itto" as the whole gang hollered while you were trying to scoop some goldfish.
"Of course, I had fun," you grinned.
Phew. Good thing you aren't nitpicky. He bowed exaggeratedly as he chuckled, "I am glad to be of service."
Itto knew you could see how his head was getting bigger than his body now. You smiled a little wider, "I enjoyed it so much that…"
Huh. There's more? Well, he was ready for you to compliment his entertaining charm.
"I wish to be your betrothed. Arataki Itto, will you marry me?" Itto witnessed you shine and sparkle to coax him to agree— you placed your hand on your chest as you knelt down on one knee, staring into his eyes with eager glee.
….HUH?
You met eyes with your day-dreaming future husband, and gave him a welcoming smile in the midst of an important discussion, cold tea, and stacked papers. It was a little forced, but the way he smiled back was so genuine and infectious, your true eloquent smile appeared. His infectious aura and presence was what made you enjoy that night and what made you choose him.
Good. He is the perfect candidate as a husband for you: an intimidating resting face everyone will cower in fear from, then the friendliest smile that knows no inequality, exclusive and outgoing personality, the leader of a gang that has been giving itself a good name in recent years, and no true influence to the government of Inazuma.
You were glad to have met him that night.
It was your time to rest in the stuffy yet plain room. Tired eyes fluttered to the beautiful sights of the Festival. Dancing sakura petals of the wind waltz with the lights of the city. The hustle and bustle sang and harmonized with the music of Inazuma. Culture of games, masks and silk infested the streets to satisfy the people and Yokai. Commissioner Kamisato was right; the Shirasagi Himegimi outdid herself this time. The night was too alluring to stay in your room as warmth started to bubble in your heart. Maybe, you won’t spend your night in your stuffy room today.
Indeed, those elders would criticize and lecture you, but at the very best, those grimy sons or selfish daughters of theirs will have no room in your work and your thoughts. At the very least, in your marriage with Itto, he wouldn’t do much for Inazuma other than some minor inconveniences. He would do his own things, and you would do yours. He wouldn’t have any problems with money, shelter, and clothing, and you wouldn’t have any problems with annoying suitors. Now, you have a reason to turn them down.
You also gave your husband his freedom to love whoever he wants.
In the lengthy contract that cited rules and regulations and written agreements between the Arataki Gang Leader and the Esteemed Sun of Inazuma, there, you have written: “The Esteemed Sun of Inazuma, □□□□, agrees for the Arataki Gang Leader, Arataki Itto, to have a romantic or sexual relationship outside of the contractual marriage between the two parties.”
“Hm, are you sure you want this part to be in the contract? Won’t it cause some kind of scandal? It might not jeopardize you, esteemed sun. But the Arataki gang will face grave repercussions." Kuki Shinobu voiced out.
How lucky was Arataki Itto to have a jack of all trades like her? You got a little envious, but the feeling hid behind the curtain. "Dear Kuki, is someone with the likes of Itto even interested in romance?" you whispered.
She actually pondered on your joke, but you pressed on with a grin. "Either way, please notify me if he plans to have a lover. I will make a scandal wherein I have another lover as well as make the narrative sympathize with Itto. Now, they won't be so rude if they think with their little heads. To kill the attention on me, I will announce something beneficial to Inazuma’s-"
"Wait," Itto tapped in, long fingers playing a rhythm to the dark wood. "You're going to sacrifice your reputation? For me to have my own lover?" He raised his brow.
"Of course? My "love life" won't affect my service.”
“Aren’t you technically my lover according to this contract?”
“Well, do you love me?”
“Uh…”
“Think of this as a marriage for convenience, Itto,” you gently smiled, mostly because he was cute, but slightly you placed him at a corner. “We don’t have to love each other.”
"Heh! Well, think again, sunshine!" He crossed his arms and widely opened his mouth. "I'm not gonna be some kind of cheating jerk and fail this marriage! I ain't gonna fall in love with anyone or ain't gonna make out with anyone else but my future wife! I am gonna be an awesome and committed husband as granny oni taught!"
Honestly, you stifle a laugh. "Is that so? It isn’t really cheating since we don’t have feelings for each other, and this relationship is obviously one of empty commitment. You will get bore-"
Before you could add anything, you could feel Itto's hand grab yours as he brought it to his lips. "Then, I'll use my good ol' Arataki "The Handsome Oni" Itto charm to make you fall for me" he winked.
You pondered. Does he read those cheesy light novels?
DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.
Thank you and God bless!
#notice how I posted at April 1#HAHAH#arataki itto x reader#itto x reader#arataki itto x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#arataki itto fanfic#itto fanfic#genshin fake marriage#genshin fluff#Dafifish writes#itto slow burn#arataki itto slow burn#arataki itto eventual fluff#itto eventual fluff
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Six
Creator's POV
I can feel my heart racing in my chest. The inside and outside of this room is silent, except for my heavy breathing. The door opens and a few kenin rush in.
"Sozunoshi! Are you alright?!" The older one asks.
While panting, I nod. Whatever dream I was having, means something.
After having breakfast with Ei I run into the city and look for a teleport way point. When I do find one, I stop to think about where to go. I wonder if going back to Liyue would be good, but I also want to see what Fontaine looks like in real life plus I want to find out if people can breathe underwater in the water around Fontaine. So I make up my mind to go to Fontaine.
Closing my eyes, I think of the Court of Fontaine, I feel a familiar warm feeling wash over me. When I open my eyes I'm met with a crowd of people.
"Umm... h-hello," I stutter out.
The people stay silent for a bit before they move closer to me. The noise, the amount of people, and how close they are makes me freak out. Tears flow down my cheeks.
"What is going on here?" A voice asks.
It sounds like a woman, but it has this authority to it that makes the people part like the red sea so whoever just spoke can see me. As the crowd parts, I see a tall red hat and long purple hair.
I know that hat and hair, I remember it from the Roses and Muskets event... It belonged to a hardened badass and hidden softie.
"Chevreuse," I mumble.
She looks at me, and stares. Her cold expression doesn't falter. She was followed by many of Special Security and Surveillance Patrol officers following behind her.
"Your grace, ludex Neuvillette has asked me and my best officers to escort you to the Palais Mermonia," she told me.
There were whispers from the people around us. I had enough of this being seen as a god thing and looked behind me and there are gardemeks. If I can teleport through the teleport waypoint, maybe I can teleport to locations like in the game.
So I close my eyes and think of Mondstandt city and hoped I ended up in the right place.
Venti's POV
Diluc was trying to cut off my wine drinking again. The Angel's Share was getting full. I walked out and then saw a flash of light. Running towards the light, I see... the Creator.
Helping them up, I lead them to the Angel's Share. When we get inside I led them to bar and sat them down.
"What would you like to drink?" I ask.
The Creator tells me what drink they want and I order it for them.
"It's been awhile, where have you been?" I asked once our drinks were in front of us.
The Creator told me what happened and the story was a mess. I feel like they are hiding something from me. I get Diluc's attention and he agrees to have the Creator stay at his home again, but they seem nervous and say they have to go somewhere. As me and Diluc tries to stop them, they get up and dash away from the tavern.
When I return to where I'm staying, I see a letter from Ei.
Reading it, it seems like she is getting Inazuma ready for the festival to welcome the Creator back. I smile and remember Teyvat has five more days before the Creator will be here, forever.
#genshin fanfic#cult au#sagau#creator!reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#Platonic Neuvillette#Platonic yandere
48 notes
·
View notes
Note
An AU where tamlin (disguised as female) and rhysand fall in love tthen tamlins like wait i have to tell u something then rhys finds outs hes tamlin and undergoes a sexuality crisis
YES, I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Don't know why but this is giving me a Cinderella retelling vibe. Btw sorry for the late response anon, but here's how I think this would go down.
*Trigger Warning- Innuendoes, non-explicit mature content.*
The white trail of her dress was like an angel's wings dragging across stone carved from the mountains of Hell. Lace lined her arms and the top of her breasts. A long slit ran up the side of her thigh, revealing the same lace work hugging her legs.
Golden hair spilled down her back and shoulders, flowers and rings of gold weaved through those luscious strands. Her shoulders and collarbone deliciously bare, off the shoulder sleeves hung over the lace of her forearms. An angel indeed, left in the company of devils.
Rhysand watched her from his throne. His eyes locked in on those slender legs as they moved her through the crowd. The females eyed her, disgust twisting in their face, constricting their eyes and noses. Males stepped out of her way as she moved past them like fluid.
A powerful, or perhaps idiotic, decision to wear such garments, not a stain on the white silk. A symbol of purity, as if anyone from this Godforsaken city could be called pure.
She looked up to the throne set high above the people below it. Her eyes were of the deepest green, as if they had been sucked from the heart of a forest, flecked with gold like stars. Their gazes locked and for a moment, the world ceased to exist, everything turning to a black void and low drone of voices. Even though her head was tilted up to see him, Rhysand couldn't help but feel like she was looking down on him, like his existence was worth little more to her than whoever else wished for her presence in bed, or hand in marriage.
Then she turned away, she turned away and every nerve in his body burned for her to look at him again.
What was this strange, heady feeling? Rhysand tilted his head, watching as she walked back into the crowd, unable to disappear from view, as she was a sliver of light in the sea of black and deep Night Court purple.
'Are you staring at her?' A familiar laughing voice boomed in his head. Rhysand allowed the smallest of smirks as he cast his eyes in the direction of his friend and General.
Cassian grinned back from his place beside Azriel, stationed close to the throne but not close enough that they overshadowed him.
'There are many 'hers' here tonight, Cass, enlighten me on which you speak of.'
'Oh, don't be so formal, High lord. The pretty one in the white dress, everyone's lookin at her.' He murmured it in such a low tone Rhysand had to suppress the urge to snap.
'Careful Cass,' Azriel murmured through the mental bond, 'Rhysand's already called first bite.'
'There is no first bite, Azriel.' Rhysand replied smoothly, 'Though it is a... proud choice to wear such clothing.'
'A cocky choice more like it.' There was Mor, Rhysand was wondering when she would but in with her opinion, 'To wear robes like that when our Court uniform is solely black, blue and purple is insulting at the least, an act of defiance at worst.'
'Calm yourself, Mor. She hasn't done anything as of yet.' Rhysand drawled.
'Apart from looking like an angel with her wings cut off.' Cassian said.
'Get back to work you three.' Rhysand ordered, shutting out the tones of his friends before resuming his former position, sitting on an oversized throne being bored as all Hell.
Rhysand scanned the ballroom again, watching the waltzing taking place before him. The deep, low tones of the music in the air hummed like background noise, nothing more than decorative festivities meant to give the people an opportunity to move their bodies in a fashion that wasn't simply standing around.
Music had never been the Hewn City's strong point. Such artistry was better off in Velaris, where good people could actually be found.
Rhysand sighed, if the Darkbringer's army wasn't so powerful he would have had Azriel and Cassian bring the foundations of this place down and allow the wicked cruelty festering down here to be crushed. That's all these people deserved after all.
Too lost in his own bored musings, Rhysand failed to notice the swift, silent steps coming for him until she was standing directly before him.
Rhysand near jolted but forced his body to remain calm. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.
Her arms were toned and muscular, her waist clipped and hips flaring out to show off curvy thighs. For a moment the urge to grab them squeeze pricked his mind.
"You are standing before the throne, yet you are not on your knees?" Rhysand hummed, his voice deceivingly kind.
The female before him wasn't stupid and he figured that out quickly by the hardened glare she gave him. But it was clear to see she lacked fear of consequence, because the first words she spoke to him were, "Do you always just sit on your ass on this throne, or will you actually mingle with your own people?"
Rhysand opened and closed his mouth, completely and utterly at a loss for words.
"I beg your pardon."
"My pardon is granted; now will you answer my question?"
Rhysand stared at her, unable to form a coherent sentence that did not entail yelling his indignation. So, he opted for a gentle brush of his talons against her mind.
Finally, she narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back on instinct, remembering how dangerous the male before her truly was.
"Are you drunk, lady? Or perhaps do you lack self-preservation? You stand before my throne, asking insulting questions and assuming you give pardon to me?"
She tilted her head to the side as if she was truly pondering his question, "It has been mentioned that I lack any real self-preservation, but I like to call it a lack of tolerance for entitled self-serving Night Court royals."
Rhysand couldn't help it, he snorted, a quick, genuine sound. He had no idea how it even slipped past his defenses. Her lips quirked up in a slight grin, counting his reaction as a win on her side. He quickly coughed into his hand trying to cover the sound but that only seemed to serve to amuse her more.
"What is your purpose in antagonizing me, lady?"
"I am not antagonizing; I am asking a genuine question. Are you going to sit on your ass for the whole party, or will you join the festivities?"
"I'd hardly call this," He gestured to the stiff, tense dancing- if one could call it that- taking place below them, "Dancing."
She glanced at the people behind her, then she looked over him again. Her green eyes so sharp as they swooped up and down him like a predator's watchful gaze.
Even though she was but another Hewn City citizen that he could have tortured and executed if he wished for it, Rhysand couldn't help but feel as though he was not the one in control.
"Perhaps the people would be more responsive if their ruler joined them instead of sitting up so high above them." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg as she waited for his reaction.
"Who are you to tell me how to rule my people?"
She grinned at his scowl. A grin with bone white teeth and sharp, gleaming fangs. Between that glowing smile and the way those gold specks in her eyes seemed to shine brighter, Rhysand felt his world shift from one side to the other and it was dizzying.
"I am the person telling you to get off your ass and come dance." She said.
Rhysand blinked his violet eyes; she blinked her green ones back.
"Are-are you asking me to dance?"
"No."
"No?"
She took his hand in her own. Her hands weren't soft and dainty, no, they were calloused and firm. Hands like his. Hands that were used.
She tugged and Rhysand, adding horror to curiosity, followed her silent order. He stood up.
The High lord was marginally taller than the female before him. But he was surprised at her height regardless. In a good set of heels, she would surely surpass him.
She was playing some game, doing something to him that Rhysand couldn't figure out.
"Asking would insinuate you had a choice to dance or not, you're dancing with me, that's final." Her cheeky pink tongue slid across her fangs, red spread across Rhysand's face. A strip of blotchy red that undoubtedly did not escape her cunning eyes.
Sucking in a breath, Rhysand tried to find the will to rebuke her. But before he even got a sentence out, she was pulling him down to the dance floor.
Looking out at the sea of people. Rhysand watched as jaws dropped and eyes widened. Even the music from the orchestra faltered for a moment as eyes went to the feared High lord of Night being half-dragged by a strange, beautiful female in a dress of pure white.
When Rhysand's eyes snapped to those watching they quickly resumed their ministrations. Pointedly not making any eye-contact with the Lord or the mysterious lady.
Once in the center of the room, she spun on her heel and put a hand to his shoulder, forcibly placing his hand on her waist. Then she smiled up at him. A beautiful display of pearly whites with a sweet gaze.
"Well High lord? Show us all what talents you keep hidden while you're sitting on the throne."
***
"What do you mean she can't be found?!" Rhysand yelled, Azriel didn't so much as flinch, Rhysand did notice the slight roll of his eyes.
"I mean no one can find her. Like she just," Azriel gestured to nothing, "Disappeared into the night air, and from what I've gathered, no one had ever seen her before."
"What does that mean?" The High lord hissed, knowing very well what that meant.
"It means your little crush wasn't from the Hewn City, somehow she snuck in there. Which means she could be from anywhere."
"Impossible. It's impossible to leave the Hewn City or enter it without my permission." Rhysand stood up from his chair, walking away from his desk and towards the large window behind him. Looking out over the view of Velaris. Soft evening sun was upon the world, casting tall shadows over the ground and filling the air with a soft cool breeze. The scattered lights of the city looked like stars on Earth.
"Even if she somehow snuck in as you say, she couldn't have left. The security is to tight."
"I don't know what to tell you Rhysand, she danced with you then disappeared."
"Impossible." Rhysand repeated shaking his head.
Her waist in his hand had been like heaven pressed against him. Looking down into her eyes are they moved, spun and turned had been a religious experience. Nothing in the world compared to her long fingers travelling up his neck to brush the underside of his chin. No drug in the world could ever get him higher then when she had let him spin her away from the ballroom.
"Hello, Night Court to Rhysand!" Cassian smacked the side of his head. Rhysand reeled around and went to punch him right in the throat, but the larger male caught his arm before he could get close.
"Give it up, Rhys, it's been a week. The girl's not comin back." His General told him.
"You don't get it, Cass. She..." How could he move on from that. From the heady feeling of her hands on his body, travelling to find any skin not protected by his clothing. Nothing could compare to her heavenly voice whispering back-handed compliments and jokes about him stepping on her toes.
"Cassian's right, Rhys. Let it go. Who knows? Maybe you'll find her again. For now, we have other priorities." Azriel insisted.
With a strained groan, Rhysand turned back to the window and put his hands to his head.
They were right, of course they were right.
But how could he focus on other things when he could only feel her lips on his skin when he led her out into the dark, empty hallways, away from the ballroom?
***
He dreamt of her. He dreamt of that night. Of her dress flaring out, brushing his legs as they danced. He dreamt of her laughter, a honey-sweet sound in the midst of so much darkness. He dreamt of her knowing smile, and the expression on her face. As if whatever game she was playing, she had won.
He dreamt of whispering in her ear. Turning up his charm, trying, near desperate for a chance as she seduced him within an inch of his life.
He dreamt of her hands wrapping around the collar of his shirt and her telling him to make it worth her while.
Pinning her against the cold wall. Rhysand buried his nose into the crook of her neck. She laughed and buried her fingers in his dark hair, pulling until he looked back into her eyes.
She smirked, a glint of danger in her eyes. Quicker than his hazy brain could think, she jutted her head down and nipped his neck, leaving a small bite mark. Rhysand near lost his damn mind. Roughly grabbing her hips he shoved her more forcefully against the wall. His own head going down onto her neck. Leaving darkened bruises on her pale skin.
She clicked her tongue, "So rough, needy, are we?"
"Gods above."
"The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins." She murmured in such a seductively low tone; Rhysand may have lost a part of his mind to her in that very moment.
Trying to keep his thoughts on one track. Rhysand moved his hands up and down her thighs, bunching her skirts in his hands. Her breaths turned heavy, and her face went a splotchy red. Rhysand felt a smirk matching hers curling on his lips.
"You're right. No one's here to see how the Lord of Night plays with such alluring delights like you."
"All talk. No play." She drawled.
"Not one for foreplay, darling?"
"I'm one for proving you know how to wield the thing between your legs, darlin."
Rhysand loosened a near feral noise. But as he went to push back her skirts to reveal what was between her legs, the loud ringing of the stroke of midnight rang true through the Hewn City.
She sucked in a breath and drew back from him, eyes wide and mouth agape.
"Is something amiss, lady?" Rhysand asked, trying to keep the hot, heady feeling of the moment but concerned for her reaction.
"Midnight." She whispered.
"Yes, lady." Perhaps she was on a curfew, that was true for a great number of females in this City, "Do not worry over any curfew, I will grant you-"
"No," She sharply pulled away from him, forcing his hands off her, "No, no, I have to leave."
"Lady, I-"
"This was good," She smiled, it was girlish smile that he hadn't seen before, almost an apology for her hasty escape, "This was good, but I must go."
Then she was sprinting down the hall. Dress following her like a cape. Rhysand watched her, stunned into immobility.
He looked at the place she had just been, then a vital thought crossed his mind. He didn't have her name. Without another thought, the High lord of Night found himself racing after her.
"Lady! My Lady, wait!" He called out, but she didn't slow. Grabbing the edge of a corner she whirled around and was gone from Rhysand's eyes.
As he rounded the corner and stared down the dark hallway. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. If it weren't for her floral scent clinging to everything he was, he would've convinced himself she was never there.
***
Rhysand dug his spoon into the tasteless porridge before him. Flinging small scraps onto the table. He pointedly didn't look at any of his family.
After Rhysand set his cup of near empty coffee on the table with an unnecessarily loud clang, Mor growled, "Rhysand, what is your problem?"
"Nothing is my problem, Morrigan." He hissed back, finally looking up to meet her equally hateful stare.
"He's lusting after the angel he saw two weeks ago in the Hewn City. Mad he can't find her again." Cassian dobbed on him. Grinning as he swallowed his own breakfast.
"Angel? You mean the girl wearing white?" Morrigan rolled her eyes, "She was arrogant for wearing that. It was practically bridal wear."
"She looked like a Goddess on Earth." Rhysand cut her off.
Morrigan levelled him with a hard stare, "Rhysand, leave the shitty poetry for Tamlin."
Azriel nearly choked on his coffee as he started giggling, his shoulders shaking. Rhysand growled at all of them, "I don't understand how no one has seen her since. Azriel, instead of laughing, how about you go and make sure the sentries at the Hewn City aren't skimping on their jobs?"
Azriel held up his hands, in an 'I'm innocent' manner, "Don't snap at me. I have checked every nook and cranny. Skewered every sentry for information. No one saw her enter, and no one saw her leave."
Cassian hummed in a low tone, "There could be a weakness in the Hewn Cities defenses allowing people to enter and leave as they please."
"Which means you both check again. From top to bottom, side to side, I don't want one household, one corridor, one room unaccounted for."
"Yes, Lord fell in love after one dance." Cassian taunted as he stood from the dining table. Looking at Azriel, he jutted his head to the door and the Shadowsinger nodded. Standing up he gave Rhysand a warning glare, before he followed his brother out the door.
Only Mor and Rhysand were left in the room. Not for long as Morrigan stood up, picking up her plate before she looked down at Rhysand.
"That female was in the wrong for wearing a white dress. Don't waste your feelings on such women." Mor warned him, before disappearing as well.
Rhysand never got the chance to tell his cousin, that the cocky, self-assured attitude that female had was half the reason he was going insane for her.
***
A year passed and Rhysand never saw the female again. But he didn't forget that night. It repeated in his head over and over. He examined every word, every expression, every shift of her lips or eyebrows. Every movement of her dress shifting on her body. He didn't forget. Couldn't forget. In his hottest fantasies he sought out the feeling of her skin under his fingers, in his darkest nightmares it was her warmth he was drawn too.
Over and over, he spun himself in circles. Trying to forget and move on, but lulled back into her memory like she lived in his head. Always finding him, never letting him leave. At times Rhysand wanted nothing more than to comb through every household, every road, every path in Prythian just to hear her laughter in the distance. Other times he wanted to rip out his mind and meticulously pick her memory out of his head, just so he could focus on something else without her smile lurking in the corner of his thoughts.
Cassian and Azriel had long accepted he was going to take a good long while to get over her. So, they resorted to simple teasings and rolling their eyes. Morrigan was less inclined to entertain his pining. Snapping at him whenever his mysterious lover came up. Becoming colder and more reserved. He didn't know whys he was so affected by her. Why she hated the idea of this woman just for wearing white.
He supposed it should've been considered an insult for her to wear such as color when she had nowhere near the authority. But Rhysand couldn't bring himself to care.
He wouldn't see her again, that he was starting to convince himself of. Finally, on solstice when he went the whole day without thinking about her, Rhysand thought he was ridding himself of her.
Then he was invited to a solstice celebration, hosted by Helion.
They all went. Everyone did. Even the other High lords. The Day Court palace had been transformed into a party, decorated with gold and lights that swirled in his vision. The drone of voices filled the air. The smells of good food and wine enticed Rhysand to fall away from his entourage not long after they arrived. Blending into the crowd. Rhysand found a male offering drinks to all, he took a glass and sipped on the delectable liquid whilst observing the party from the outskirts.
People danced, spinning around, twirling, pushing and pulling. Music was in the air, blending into the mix of laughter and chatter.
"Don't have a throne to sit your ass on," Every part of Rhysand's body was set on fire as he heard the voice that haunted his dreams whispering in his ear. He couldn't even turn as a too familiar hand slid down his chest, "So you're standing out here, avoiding everyone."
Rhysand finally forced his eyes to turn, and there she stood. His memory did her no justice, for she glowed with an alluring nature that his mind could not capture. Those golden curls were decorated with the same flowers and golden rings as before, except tonight a pair of striking antlers stood out like a crown.
Instead of that heart-stopping white dress, she wore something very different but equally as royal, equally made Rhysand wished to tear it away. A suit of dark emerald, green, a pressed white shirt underneath a waistcoat decorated with striking golden embroidery that swirled in the shape of flowers. A long jacket made with the same material as the waistcoat covered her arms and slid around her waist. Rhysand wanted to rip it away and place his hands on her waist once more.
"It's you." He breathed, unable to say anything more.
"Miss me, High lord?" She murmured, voice falling into that seductive low tone. Rhysand went weak, becoming nothing but putty for her hands.
Near shaking, Rhysand took both her hands in his. Gently pressing a kiss to each finger, he whispered against her skin, "Dearly."
She took in a breath, when he looked up, he saw her green eyes were soft. Her face ethereal, warm in the light, divine like a Goddess.
"I missed you too." She admitted.
"My darling-" He started, then she pressed a finger to his lips.
"Come with me somewhere... private." She said, looking out at the sea of people.
His blood started racing. Heat warmed his cheeks. As much as Rhysand wanted to take her against the floor where they stood, he found a different desire was battling his sexual ones. The urge to pull her close, breathe in her scent and forget the rest of the world existed was getting stronger by the minute.
She held onto his hands tightly. Then she moved, dragging him along behind him like she did when she took him off the throne. Rhysand went more than willingly. She kept them in the shadows of the party. Not a soul paid them any attention.
They found an empty balcony. She all but shoved him out then closed the curtains and the glass door.
Finally, she tuned back to him. Oh gods, if she looked beautiful in the warm chandelier light, she looked bewitching in the silver of the moon. Rhysand nearly dropped to his knees. In that moment, if the female before him told him to martyr himself in her name, he would've and he would've done it smiling.
How did one person he met a year ago have such a hold over him?
"Darling." He meant to purr the word, but it came out broken, desperate, near begging. He planted his hand on her hips and pulled her close. Pressing his nose into crook of her neck like he had in his dreams an unaccountable number of times, "My darling."
She slid her hands up his chest and Rhysand felt higher than the moon itself. Felt like he was amongst the stars themselves.
Then she pushed him away. Rhysand panicked for a moment. Fear took hold of him, strangling him till he couldn't breathe. Fear she would run away. Fear he would never see her again.
"Wait-" he started. Then she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, keeping him at an arm's length but not letting go. It eased only a sliver of his worry.
"Rhysand," She murmured. Oh, gods his name on her tongue was like being handed a slice of heaven itself.
"Yes, my darling."
"I... you have to forget me." She told him.
Everything spinning his world came to a crashing halt, "My... my lady, I-"
"Forget me, forget everything about me. This cannot be." She told him, beginning to let go of his collar. Beginning to let go of him.
He was quicker than her this time. This time he didn't let her leave him. He took hold of her waist and pulled her back to him.
"What do you mean it cannot be?"
"I cannot be with you, you not with me. It would never work. It... we can't."
"We can." Perhaps she was already engaged? A forced marriage maybe? Or was she worried about someone low-ranking being with a High lord.
"Rhysand-"
"It will work, I will make it work. I will kill any that need to be killed. I will fix anything that needs to be fixed. I will get on my knees for you if that's what you want, please just... don't leave me again."
Tears pooled in her eyes; Rhysand desperately wanted to get rid of them.
"There is something about me you must know Rhysand." She said.
"Tell me, whatever it is, I can handle it." He insisted.
She huffed a laugh and lightly shook her head, "You will hate me once you know it. You will hate me and you will make my life hell for it. I would rather you just forget me."
"No. Never." He nearly shuddered, what could she know that would possible invoke his wrath?
"You are going to hate me." She told him, not a question, a factual statement.
"Tell me anyway." He said.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Stepping away from him she forced him to let go. He felt the need to reach out, but held himself back.
Then in the blink of an eye, she changed. Her suit changed as well to fit the new body it held. Her torso became longer. Her shoulders filled out the shirt more. In a second she was taller, almost exactly his height. Her jaw become more carved, slightly broader. But her eyes, hair and skin stayed the same.
Rhysand felt his mouth fall open as a ringing in his ear drowned out the background noise of the party.
Tamlin pointedly did not look at him. He looked out over the view of the Day Court. Rhysand's eyes could only look him up and down.
"I'm sorry Rhys." Tamlin murmured. His voice deepened, but still rich like the sweetest of honey, "I'm sorry."
How...
"I wanted to escape for one night. I went to the Hewn City, it was the only place completely and utterly removed from Prythian. I saw you and I... it pissed me off how high and mighty you looked. I didn't know how far it would go."
How did...
"I had to go back at midnight, lest Lucien and Andras send out a search party looking for me. But I... I couldn't stop... thinking about you." He whispered the last three words like they were cursed.
How did Rhysand never know?
Everything about Tamlin had remained Tamlin in his female form, except having a more feminine look and high-pitched voice. His personality remained precisely the same. The same sarcastic, dare-devil attitude. The same cocky, self-assured air about him. The same cheeky smart cunningness.
"I'm sorry for leading you on, but I-"
Rhysand laughed; he couldn't stop it. It burst from his throat like a tidal wave. He nearly doubled over. Tears springing from his eyes.
Tamlin's face turned from shock to indignation and finally mild amusement. He crossed his arms and waited for Rhysand to collect himself.
"You done, yet?" Tamlin drawled. Rhysand forced himself to take in a deep breath, controlling himself.
"Yes." Rhysand said.
They both looked at each other. This was the first real one-on-one interaction with each other since... since that night all those years ago.
"Do you hate me?" Tamlin whispered, "Not just for before but... for this?"
Rhysand barely heard the question, too busy watching the way a hair fell from its place to frame Tamlin's face.
"I..."
Did he?
He should. He had to. He had to feel angry for this. For being led on like this.
But he couldn't. The fire he had felt when Tamlin appeared in female form just minutes prior still burned, in fact... it was getting hotter.
"I don't know." Rhysand said.
Tamlin gritted his teeth, not liking that answer. He turned on his heel, striding away from Rhysand. He opened the glass door and called over his shoulder, "Well when you figure it out,"
Tamlin turned just enough to look Rhysand in the eyes, "You know where to find me."
Tamlin tossed the curtains open and they were faced with the Inner Circle staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths.
Tamlin just gave them a cocky grin and a wave before he strolled away. Heading for Lucien and Andras who called him over, oblivious to what had just occurred.
***
No one had spoken to him. And Rhysand didn't speak to them. Once they got home, he beeline for his office, shut and locked the door. They all assumed he was humiliated. Embarrassed at having been obsessed with the male he claimed to loathe.
Rhysand sat in his office for days. The shadow twins brought him meals. Neither speaking, just walking through the walls to hand him whatever they had prepared, then they left.
They all assumed he was thinking of ways to murder the male that had made him insane for a year.
They were all so far from the truth.
Rhysand sat in his chair, staring out at his city, wondering how Tamlin was still stuck in his mind.
He half-expected to at least be only thinking of Tamlin's female form. Still obsessed with how she looked.
But no, his mind wouldn't let him think of her, he could only think of him. Could only think of Tamlin's laughter, Tamlin's smile, Tamlin's face. Tamlin dancing with him. Tamlin touching him. Tamlin beneath him-
Rhysand scrubbed his face with dry hands. Trying to rid his mind of those thoughts.
He shouldn't think like that. He was a High lord for the God's sake. It was his Cauldron-given duty to marry a female. Fuck a female. Put an heir in a female. And give the Court their next High lord. All with a female.
What kind of reasoning was that? He shouldn't be thinking like this because it wasn't him. He didn't... males simply didn't think like that. It was... it wasn't.
What was he trying to convince himself of? Didn't he preach about Velaris being a safe haven for all that wanted to do as they wished with their bodies, give their love to whomever?
Everyone else could do what they wanted. But he couldn't. He wasn't like that. He just wasn't.
Right?
Right.
Tamlin's eyes appeared in his mind's vision and Rhysand nearly flipped his desk.
Slamming his head back against his chair, Rhysand groaned loudly.
He stared up at the ceiling, thinking the untouched white would distract him. It only served to make his mind wonder back into dangerous territory. Tamlin with his hand on Rhysand's shoulder. Tamlin nipping his neck with his sharp teeth. Tamlin grinning as Rhysand went down on his knees-
"God's above." Rhysand whispered.
'The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins.'
Instead of a female's voice murmuring, it was Tamlin's. Rhysand lost his own breath for a moment, eyes shuddering closed.
Rhysand forced his eyes open. He forced himself to stand up, roughing brushing himself off. He looked out at the view of Velaris.
Hands trembling. He roughly threw open the window. Wings appearing on his back as his wards dropped. He fell into the wind and shadows of Night.
'Do you hate me?' That torturous voice whispered in the cavern of his memory.
"No." Rhysand spoke into the night as his wings snapped out and he shot up into the clouds.
"How could I ever hate the best thing that ever happened to me?"
The twins would go into his office the next morning with breakfast, and they would find an empty room. Mor would be frantic, and Cass and Az would search Velaris from top to bottom.
But they wouldn't find him, because Rhysand was going to the place his mind and heart had been stolen too.
Rhysand was going to Spring.
Rhysand was going to Tamlin.
Thank you so much for this prompt! It was very fun to write!
By the way this is what I imagine Tamlin's dress in the Hewn City to look like. Found this image on my Pinterest feed.
And here's the inspiration for Tam's suit at the Day Court party.
#acotar#tamlin#pro tamlin#rhysand#rhyslin#tamsand#tamsand au#acotar au#anon asks#acotar headcanons#rhysand being obsessed#as per usual
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
coaxed you into paradise
Chapter Six: Too Old To Care
Description: Saera Targaryen was her father's forgotten daughter. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her sister and seeks solace in the arms of her uncle. Not realizing that the consequence of their affair is just as dire as her sister's.
masterlist
previous chapter <<
Time Skip : 5 months
DAEMON TARGARYEN looks at his lover with infinite passion, earning a confused stare from his brother. Viserys clears his throat and crosses his arms, "And how is your marriage with Lady Laena?" he asked cautiously as his brother rolled his eyes.
"She's always at Driftmark, how am I supposed to know?" he retorted curtly and Queen Alicent scowls ever so slightly. The two brothers were always at ends with each other — and Daemon was always seeking to get on his brother's nerves.
"Saera seems to have taken a liking to her. Alicent tells me that she was there for The Twins' birth." Viserys explains as he tries to ignore the telltale sighs of an unhappy marriage. "We were there, her husband was not." he remarked with a dark chuckle as he takes a sip of his wine.
In his mind, Ser Harwin was reckless and imprudent. It might seem like he holds love for his lady wife (and her sister) but he knows men like him. Those who only love the hunt but not the prize.
"Ser Harwin was occupied with the festivities leading to Prince Lucerys' birth." Queen Alicent explains as she glances at her husband, hoping to get a reacting from him. She sighs, realizing that Viserys was purposefully acting blind once more.
Rhaenyra was his favorite daughter. He'd always be blind when it comes to her.
"I'm sure he only wished to help us," King Viserys declines the insinuation, and instead opting to call his daughter, Saera, who was currently trying to calm Daegon down.
Saera smiles at Daemon, and offers a small bow to her father. "Father, uncle, Queen Alicent." she greets as Viserys offers his hands to carry little Daegon. "And where is Alyssa?" he questions as he presses a kiss to his grandson's forehead.
"She's with Laenor — she seems to be taken with the sea," she replies remembering that her daughter was currently on the rivers leading to Kingslanding. Often times she wondered if her daughter was a Velaryon and not a Targaryen. A punishment from the gods because of her affair.
Daemon frowns not remembering sending his daughter to swim, but keeps his anger to himself. "You should've asked for me, I'm sure Laenor should be occupied with his own litter." he stated as he takes another sip of his wine.
"Alyssa doesn't like it when you take her, I suppose it's because you don't let her spend enough time in the water." she jested and his face softened. "She could get sick," he defended and Viserys chuckles.
"Which reminds me that they need dragon eggs," he reminded himself as he casts a look towards his servant, signaling for him to gather the dragon eggs. "Thank you father. I asked Harwin to get some a few weeks ago, but he still hasn't found it in himself to travel to Dragonstone." she complains as his father kept playing with his grandson.
Her eyes softened, assuming that her father loved Daegon more than his cousins. After all, Daegon and Alyssa were real dragons. Their blood was unsullied by the blood of men.
"Is it really appropriate to give her children dragon eggs? They are Strongs, not Targaryens." Alicent buts in the conversation and earns a glare from Saera. Daemon takes a deep breath, before slumping down his seat. "How can you claim that Queen Alicent? When their hair is white, and eyes are purple. Saera's children are dragons," he enunciated the last sentence and Viserys gently glares at his wife.
Daemon was right, Daegon and Alyssa bore the face of Old Valyria. The insinuation that they were anything less of a Targaryen, brought great insult to their father's house.
"I apologize," she looked down, realizing that fighting would lead her nowhere.
HARWIN HOLDS ALYSSA IN HIS RIGHT HAND, and kisses Saera's head. "Our fathers have grown closer since the twin's birth." he states as he smiles at his daughter. "Yes, my father has offered them dragon eggs." she replied while placing the big crate down on the floor, and glances at Daegon who was currently sleeping on their shared bed.
On her right laid a beautiful red dragon egg — it was small but she knew that it would grow once hatched. It reminded her of Balerion's skull, and she knew that it would be perfect for her children.
On her left was a blue egg — it was the largest egg she's ever seen, and its color held the ocean and skies. She smiles, this egg would be perfect for her daughter, Alyssa.
Harwin walks towards her and sits on the floor. His eyes were fixed upon the dragon-eggs and Alyssa reaches for it. Saera takes her daughter from Harwin's hands as they both reach towards the egg.
Alyssa's small hands land upon the second egg, and Harwin chuckles. "Of course she'd choose the blue one," he smiles and presses a kiss on his daughter's head.
Saera holds her breath, and shares a smile with her husband. She wasn't expecting for the egg to hatch right away — some dragon eggs, do not hatch at all. But she should've known, that a true dragon wasn't bound by time.
The egg crackles, and Harwin beams in glee.
The egg crackles for the second time, as Saera carries the egg and holds it closer to her daughter.
It crackles for the second time, as a grey head pokes underneath the broken shells. "A dragon!" Harwin exclaims as the egg fully opens.
The dragon was adorable. It had grey scales, but its underbelly was the color blue. Alyssa giggles as the dragon climbs atop Saera's hands.
"A dragon indeed," Saera replies as she closes the chest shut.
next chapter >>
taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @duhitzdae @schniiipsell @areaderinlove @Honeybeeandsea @i-yam-awesome @minaxcarter @ladystardvsts @brezzybfan @rockerchick05 @ladyyaya22 @flawroses @joygirlmelii @princessmiaelicia @prettybiching @caspianobsessed @sweetybuzz25 @eudximoniakr @saraandthejets1 @naturallyspontaneous @uniquenightsheep @hnybitches @lxdyred @inpraizeof
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x reader#ser harwin strong#harwin strong x oc#harwin strong x reader
521 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part ten (Eris x Reader)
Warnings: None I think?
Part nine Part eleven
Tag list: open
You and Eris decide to go steal something important, but it seems everyone had the same idea!
“When you said break in, I was thinking more of an in and out, no one sees us type of thing.” I say as I look at the dress and top half swan mask he had placed on the bed for me.
“This is more practical. I would have had Lucian join us, but I realize him and the rest of the spring court aren’t really fond of masks anymore.” He said smoothly as he tied his mask on.
I couldn’t look away at times like this. I loved watching him scheme and plan, loved watching those gears in his head turn as he thought.
“So, you’re not the tiniest bit worried either?” I ask, holding up the mask.
He shook his head. “It was a very special spell, I doubt anyone alive today has the means to recreate it.”
I pursed my lips as I silently added, what about someone who came back to life?
“Well then, this should be easy.” I say casually, collecting my clothes and mask and heading into the bathroom to change.
When I exited, Eris was fiddling with something in his hands.
I cleared my throat and he looked up, his eyes widening as he took me in.
I had decided to use a bit of magic to make my hair appear red, eyes too. My dress crackled and hissed as I moved, the cloth cut and sewn to look like hundreds of fall leaves. It showed a generous amount of my chest and shoulders, but otherwise it was long sleeved and the skirt was long and full.
“I didn’t expect-” He started, and I cut him off with a wave.
“I know, but even with the mask if people see a purple eyed Illyrian I think they’re going to know who I am.” I said. Straightening my posture and giving my voice a haughty lilt, I say, “I am Erica, your cousin from across the sea.”
He bit his lips, trying to hold back laughter. “Ah yes. Eris and Erica.”
I let out an involuntary snort before I forced my face into a chilly mask. “Come now cousin, we wouldn’t want to be late to the party.”
He came to my side, extending his elbow. “You’ve gotten better at lying.”
I snort as I take his extended arm. “I think you forget I managed to pass as a male for weeks in an Illyrian camp. I’ve always been good dear, you’ve just never seen me in action.”
I shoot him a sharp grin before he winnows us out.
***
We step into the ballroom, A male announces our names, and we descend the stairs.
We had discussed the plan outside. He would be the distraction while I hunted down the item. If anything happened on my end, I was strong enough to fight my way out of it.
And if anyone asked Eris what happened to his cousin?
What cousin?
If it were anyone else, I would have felt like it was an abandonment, but I knew Eris.
Even if he publicly distanced himself, he would be by my side the moment I needed him.
As we hit the final step I tripped, my eyes meeting a set of purple ones.
Eris swore under his breath, pulling me close so I didn’t fall to the floor. “Are you alright?” He whispered, his face only inches from mine.
“Hello Eris, who’s this you’ve brought with you?” My brother asked, his eyes sharp and cruel as he looked down at me.
I automatically stand ramrod straight, answering for Eris, “I’m Erica. His cousin.” I don’t bother to bow as I give him a sharp grin.
His smirk falters for a second, but Feyre comes up beside him, and I’m even more surprised at her transformation.
I never would have thought she could look this menacing.
Eris wrapped his arm around me. “I’m letting her join me for the festivities tonight, she wanted to know what a ball in Prythian was like.”
“But the real question is, what a high lord and lady like yourselves are doing at a party so unfitting someone of your standards?” Eris shot back, the mask of the cruel and heartless lord snapping into place.
This. This was when I should slip away.
But…
“I’m guessing the same as you.” Rhysand said, his upper lip twitching upward. He turned to look at me, and I had to try not to flinch away. “I hope you enjoy your party girl.”
As he stormed away, I tried not to let it get to me.
Eris tugged on my sleeve lightly, “Are you alright?”
I nodded silently before drawing myself to my full height. “I need to excuse myself for a few moments dear cousin.” I say cooly, turning on my heel and making my way through the crowd.
I’m quick to duck into a hallway, and shove off the heels I was wearing and ran barefoot through the halls.
The plan had been for me to stroll through, take care of things quietly with virtually no time limit.
That was before I was in a race against the Night Court’s Spymaster.
I used my powers freely, winnowing myself each chance I got until I was near two large doors, two guards one each side.
With my magic, I made quick work of leaving them unconscious.
I was no daemati, but I had never wanted to be one.
Even watching Rhysand as a child, I knew that if mishandled it could be very dangerous.
Pushing the door open as quietly as I could, I took a singular step inside before I froze, a figure in a black cloak already bagging the magical item that had fallen through along with me and the other two dead souls.
I was about to knock this one out too, but I paused.
“Sam?!” I whisper-shouted, and he whipped around, his cloak still hiding his face.
He had an iron dagger in his hand as he studied me. “Y/N??”
#a court of frost and starlight#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#a court of thorns and roses#a court of wings and ruin#acomaf#acotar#acowar#azriel acotar#acosf#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#pro eris vanserra#y/n x eris#eris x y/n#y/n reader#y/n#feyre cursebreaker#feyre acotar#feyre x rhysand#feyre archeron#feysand#faerie#fae#sarah j maas#rhysand acotar#high lord rhysand#rhys acotar#rhysand
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sending My Love From the Other Side
Things we should discuss:
Pete’s sexy metal Viking princess unitard, he’s waiting to be rescued by a barbarian, I can only presume he is a bride-prize for the hero who can save him
The Folie-ness of it all, the ship at sea but not doomed, not this time; instead it is a vessel of hope
The mythology-of-the-band frame narrative
How the title references back to Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash
Stardust stardust stardust and Pete’s fear of space objects
What do Field of Dreams and The Princess Bride have in common?
For those expressing concern about Joe’s absence both on Sunday and in this video—he writes in his recent book, None of This Rocks, about emergency back problems during the latter end of this pandemic, compromising his ability to walk for a brief post-surgical time, exacerbated by overworking. He writes about learning boundaries, learning to rest, and asking his band for accommodations for his health. It seems likeliest that he’s recovering from a back-related issue, rather than conscientiously abstaining from participating in this record as he describes doing with MANIA.
General ranting about lyrics:
DISCLAIMER: It’s not me, okay, it’s the text, it’s Pete being incapable of writing anything that doesn’t sound like it’s about forbidden queer love, I could not make this shit up, I truly could not
“Model house meltdown”
Reminds me of walking through the house in your shoes, I’m supposed to love you; reminds me of I’m just playing house, no idea what I’m doing now. It’s a very dark Tim Burton-y sentiment from an outwardly happy man living a domestic fairy tale.
“We were a hammer to the Statue of David, we were a painting you could never frame, and you were the sunshine of my lifetime.”
THE PAST-TENSENESS HERE
Right from the start, this sets us up for something universally perceived as perfect and beloved being destroyed. This could be a reputation, a cultural relic, a profound piece of history, a narrative, a love. We were a hammer that destroyed it, that perceived thing…
We were a painting too profane to be displayed in a museum, hidden and damned? Or we were larger than life, uncontent to be contained by a frame, always in motion, chimeric and twining, together apart, together apart, a tesselated image you can only see if you zoom out and unfocus your eyes.
You have all read my opinions about twenty years of Patrick = sunshine metaphors, which seem to be getting pretty FUCKING literal here at the end of days.
“Nowhere left for us to go but heaven, summer falling through our fingers again”
Among other things, this seems to be a VERY explicit reference to Heaven’s Gate.
I am feeling the hope of MANIA (you know my manic poly dream reading of that beautiful, purple beacon of hope) replaced by what the pandemic / apocalypse did to us all. So much for stardust, indeed.
Summer symbolizing touring, festival circuits, linking to the recent FOB instagram post that showed video from the Hella Mega Tour with the caption “take us back here.” The liminality and fleeting-ness of those spaces, those selves, that unmoored time of doing nothing, being everything. The way they want to be home when they’re on the road and the way they want to be on the road when they’re at home. Summer slipping through our fingers again, like the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, gone past, gone past.
“What would you trade the pain for? I’m not sure”
Isn’t that a fucking question, my friends!!! The pain of longing, unsatisfied, love, unrequited or unconsummated, forbidden and forsaken? The pain of not-having, or of having-had? The pain it was to be together? Welcome to my glossary of suffering
And what would you trade it for? Is this a question of, what is it worth and I can’t imagine giving it up? Or is it a past-tense question—a way of saying, I traded that exquisite pain to get what I have now, and I’m not sure what it was for, I’m not sure if it was worth it.
“Every lover’s got a little dagger in their hand”
Tbh someone smarter than me will have more to say about this, I am sure. Tarot and betrayal and the way love has thorns and anything worth having always hurts, everyone you trust with love will hurt you and let you down at least a little bit, imperfections and prices paid. But it’s also a very classic, very catchy and poetically deep sounding chorus of the type FOB loves to use and do not always hold a deep reading.
“I saw you in a bright clear field, hurricane heat in my head.”
More field-of-dreams invocation and playfulness! If there is not a stadium show at that field, I am going to light something on fire, it is the only pilgrimage I care about from this day forward.
“Inscribed like stone and faded by the rain: Give up what you love before it does you in”
LITERALLY what can I even SAY about this and the past tense and the DECISION, the question popped by MANIA that was answered only by global cataclysm and forced separation, the way they began work on this album in early 2021 (per Joe’s book). I can only hear this in conversation with the tracks on that record.
“The kind of pain you feel to get good in the end”
I was all prepared to do some read about morality and queerness and what you give up for the people you love, until @carbonbased000 said, “I love the pain line and I want to give it a kinky read so badly but we both know it’s about tennis”, and you know what. She’s right.
To summarize: there’s a lot to say, there’s a lot to feel, I love this song immensely and I hope you do too. I hope to explode more thoughts soon and uhhh maybe write another fairy tale. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, EVERYONE!
#tryst theory#peterick institute#so much for stardust#fob8#fob#peterick#i do not remember my own tags for organizing lyrical analysis so let me get back to you on tht#fob deep lore analysis#sending my love from the other side#fall out boy
187 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii this is my first request ever lol and I wanted to ask for a aonung x male reader where they go on a swim together and aonung gets hurt so they go back and reader is helping aonung and soends the night with him
✰ 鏡花水月 !
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: sorry for the long wait <33
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘆𝗺𝘀: kyouka suigetsu - flower in the mirror; moon on water
𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: ao'nung/male!na'vi!reader
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: short, grammar mistakes, slightly got uncreative
"Where are we going?"
Ao'nung claimed, that he had to show you something really cool, so you just let him drag you with him.
"We are nearly there, just a moment!"
You groaned but didn't complain, since Ao'nung would ignore it anyway.
────
"So, here we are!"
You stared in awe at the small pond, it was beautiful, especially in the night light.
The surface was shimmering like the stars, blue and a little bit of purple shining on surface. There even were a few flowers swimming in the water, truly mesmerizing.
You could make out the ground, seemed like the pond isn't really deep. But it was wide, it would take a little while to swim to the other side.
Ao'nung was the first in there, followed by you. The water was cold but not as cold as the sea, it was pleasant.
He even splashed some water in your face, what started a little splash fight.
You two swam for a short period, since Ao'nung went out of the water after a few minutes. You looked after him, confused.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Ao'nung turned to face you, that's when you saw the little bit of blood on his shoulder. You came out of the water immediately, running towards him to check if it's bad.
He hissed when you touched the wound and slightly pulled back from your touch.
"Uh, we should get back and get someone to look at it."
"Nonsense, it's nothing, really." You scoffed at his stubbornness and dragged him by his ear back to the village.
He complained a few times but gave up after he noticed, that you wouldn't listen to him.
Turned out that he swam against a sharp edge, which led to his bleeding. He was really extremely stupid.
────
You got back to his Marui and pushed him down on the floor. His family wasn't there since today was some kind of festival that they all attended. Except you two of course.
You got some ointment to treat his wound. After closer examination, you noted that the wound wasn't deep, so it would heal in a short time.
"It will heal soon, just try to not move your shoulder too much." Ao'nung scoffed and mumbled something you couldn't hear, except a little "thank you".
You smiled to yourself and laid down beside where he sat, confusing the boy next to you.
"What are you doing?"
You turned your back to him and put your arms under your head, so it would be more comfortable for you.
"I'm sleeping here, stupid. Someone has to lay an eye on you. Now, rest."
He did as you say, mumbling again but you didn't really care about it, you only noticed the warmth that radiated from his body.
Tonight, you fell asleep with a smile on your face.
© 2023, VANTE_1920PM
#── ›★ zekes avatar imagines#avatar#avatar imagines#avatar way of water#avatar 2022#avatar the way of water#avatar headcanons#aonung#ao'nung#aonung x reader#ao'nung x reader#avatar ao'nung#avatar aonung x reader#avatar ao'nung x reader#avatar aonung#x reader#fluff
163 notes
·
View notes
Note
Shayna Baszler x Fem!Reader going to a vikings game with her?
With you || Shayna Baszler x Reader
Summary: You got Shayna Vikings tickets for Christmas. Watching her excitement at the game is the best thing ever.
The day had finally arrived—the day you’d been eagerly anticipating since you first handed Shayna the tickets to the Vikings game as a Christmas present. You could barely contain your excitement as you both made your way to the stadium, the air thick with the buzz of anticipation.
Shayna had been thrilled when she unwrapped the gift, her eyes lighting up with a mix of surprise and delight. The way she hugged you, whispering her gratitude and excitement against your ear, was a moment etched into your memory.
Now, as you approached the stadium gates, Shayna’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Her hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you navigated through the sea of fans clad in purple and gold.
The energy was palpable, electric with the collective anticipation of the crowd. As you settled into your seats, Shayna’s eyes darted across the field, soaking in the grandeur of the stadium and the pre-game festivities.
The first kick-off sent the stadium roaring to life. Shayna’s excitement was infectious as she cheered for every play, her enthusiasm contagious. You couldn’t help but be swept up in her fervor, her joy becoming your own.
With every touchdown, near miss, or impressive play, Shayna’s reactions were a spectacle in themselves. Her laughter echoed through the stadium, her eyes lighting up with every twist and turn of the game.
Midway through the game, the Vikings scored a spectacular touchdown, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Shayna turned to you, her grin stretching from ear to ear, her eyes bright with excitement and exhilaration.
"This is amazing," she exclaimed, her voice barely audible above the cheers. "Thank you so much for this, for everything."
The warmth that spread through you at her words was indescribable. To see Shayna so immersed in the moment, so utterly happy, was a gift in itself. You couldn’t help but smile back at her.
As the game drew to a close, the Vikings emerged victorious. The stadium erupted in celebration, but amidst the chaos, it was Shayna’s elation that stood out the most to you.
On the way home, Shayna couldn’t stop talking about the game—recounting her favorite moments, the plays that had left her breathless, and the overall experience. Her excitement was still palpable, a vibrant energy that filled the car.
"Thank you," Shayna said again, her voice soft with gratitude, as you pulled into your driveway. "Today was incredible, because I got to experience it with you."
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Moments like these, where you got to share in Shayna’s joy, were priceless. As you walked hand in hand to your front door, the memories of the day settled in your mind, knowing that this Christmas gift had created a day you both would treasure forever.
#wwe fanfiction#pro wrestling#wwe x reader#wrestling#wwe#shayna baszler#queen of spades shayna baszler#shayna baszler x reader
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
'Close your eyes' ❤️❤️
For porteng? 👀👀👀
Absolutely <3 Thanks for sending in a prompt!
‘’Close your eyes.’’ Portugal breathed out softly, hands working through the tangles of England’s scruffy hair as he quietly watched out of the window; A sentinel against the black of the sky, a surprisingly natural state for him to be in as he relaxed against a pile of cushions, a wry smile on his face as England lay, his face moon-like in the shadows of the room.
Fireworks lit up the sky like falling stars, exploding into fragments as they hailed upon the new year’s festivities; A rolling, thunderous tide - sweeping England up with it and leaving him quite nauseous, tumbling through the darkness of his eyelids. ‘’Portugal,’’ He bleated feebly, hand rung over one ear as he stared up into the pitch sky (interrupted by a dazzles of gold, like coins raining from above), ‘’Make it stop.’’ He bit his tongue as a tremor worked its way along the ridges of his spine, England grounding his heels into the soft plush of Portugal’s raggedy sofa as he lolled his head on his husband’s plush lap (the faint smell of Portugal’s cologne teasing apart the knots his nerves had tied themselves in).
Portugal shrugged, bending down to kiss England’s cheeks - and then his nose, then his eyes. Finally, Portugal got to his husband’s lips where a scar trailed across, contorting England’s smile ever so slightly; The cause of it was a mystery to most, although Portugal snorted softly at the sight. ‘’It’ll be over soon, just keep your eyes closed.’’ He whispered as a hand drifted to cup England’s soft chin, eyes focused on that short - innocuous - scar and the tale that had accompanied it all those centuries ago.
(Portugal sat on a lonely pier, watching the silver moon dance on the dark waters of the Atlantic; England set himself down beside Portugal, his body ramrod as he stared into the distance - eyes slightly unfocused, one swollen and turning purple. ‘’Are you-?’’ Portugal paused for a heartbeat, something fluttering in his chest - something angry and protective, a rooster thrust into a pit, spurs bloodied - and Portugal forced himself to continue.
‘’Are you okay? W-who hurt you?’’
England chewed his lip nervously, nose scrunching as he swung his legs quietly. ‘’No-one.’’ A heaviness clung to those simple syllables; Atlas imparting the world to Hercules, England’s face flush with shame. ‘’I-I don’t want you to think I’m some fool-’’ He spat derisively - glaring at the sea as if one of the waves had cast itself up and suggested the very term itself. ‘’-But, nobody hurt me.’’ He shook his head. ‘’Unless, of course, you count your damnable cobbles.’’
‘’W-’’ Portugal blinked. ‘’What? The cobblestones?’’
‘’My horse tripped.’’ England confessed sheepishly. ‘’Flung me right over its head. Cut my lip.’’
Portugal stared at his friend in a half-amused and half-relieved way, a lop-smiled smile creeping along the contours of his face. ‘’Ah,’’ His shoulders slackened, eyes bright with mirth as he leaned backwards to the stars - and tried desperately to wrestle his laughter down to the pit of his belly. ‘’I-I’m just glad that-’’ Portugal snorted loudly. ‘’-Sorry, permission to laugh?’’
‘’...Only because you asked so nicely.’’ England replied softly, a hazy flush across his cheeks that brought out his freckles - Portugal yearned to kiss each one; The same way that the moon gently bid the sea to dance - as he nodded quietly. ‘’I-I suppose it is pretty funny…’’)
‘’What are you staring at?’’
England was peering up at Portugal, a bemused expression on his face. ‘’You were giggling.’’
Portugal simply smiled, bending down to give England a kiss on the nose with a snort. ‘’Just remembered something funny.’’ He replied calmly, eyes gleaming as he imagined all those theories of how England got that scar on his lip; A fight with the Vikings from aeons past, perhaps? Or maybe he’d fought one of his siblings and they had gashed his lip open?
Either way, only he knew the full story. ‘’Close your eyes, dear.’’ Portugal murmured softly, kissing England again (the scar brushing against his lips, as the fireworks crackled outside).
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Every Opportunity Pokemon Missed by not having Drew in Destiny Deoxys: A Non-Comprehensive But Still Long-Ass list
Art above- credit to the lovely @salon-maiden-anabel ! So. This is a topic that, if my sister mentions, she knows I will go off about it at the dinner table while my mother stares on confusedly. This is a topic I feel very strongly about, and I decided to put it into words for this post-and I KNOW I'm not the only one with strong feelings about this topic! @raich-raichu I know you showed interest in this topic when I said I'd do it so hope you don't mind if I @ you! THIS GOES FOR EVERYONE: PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE REBLOG WITH YOUR OWN OPINIONS AND/OR ADDITIONS ON THIS. I thrive on hearing everyone's takes and opinions. Images are included which makes it kind of long, each number on my list has a corresponding image below. For funsies. Also, I imagine this happening right before the last grand festival, though I know that’s incorrect. It just gives me more developed characters to work with since advanced and battle frontier Drew are pretty different development wise. This is with late AG Drew.
Some background. Why do I think Drew should be in Destiny Deoxys (which will be referred to as DD for the sake of my carpal tunnel)? What is the connection? Why DD and not, say Temple of the Sea? The key is the location. Drew is canonically from LaRousse City. And DD is the ONLY time we ever get to see it. Connection has been established. So... what would he even do in the movie? I'm glad you asked! Let's get into it. A numbered list of every missed opportunity the writers had by not including him.
1.) Character building through backstory. We know little to nothing about Drew's backstory, and this would have been a really natural way to learn more about it. We could have had a scene where we learn, oh, this is the flower shop his mother worked at and he grew up helping tend to the plants or whatever. This is the garden where he met budew. Just little things here and there would have been fascinating, and this movie's setting was a PERFECT opportunity for it. Plus, here's the vision. We get a semi emotional, nostalgic scene with his favorite place as a child, right? Rare Drew emotional moment, maybe sharing it with May and co.? And then, later in the movie, we see that place destroyed by the conflict in the city and we get an emotional sad moment there!!!! And in the ending credits with the song??? WE SEE HIM AND HIS POKEMON STAYING BEHIND IN THE CITY AND STARTING TO REBUILD IT (after waving at Ash and co. on the train back to mainland Hoenn). Guys, my vision is CLEAR AS DAY. Greenhouse time.
2.) Seeing him interact with other characters. Drew isn't the most extroverted guy out there, and we only ever really see him talk to Ash, May, Solidad, Harley, and Brianna. Also, May is the only consistent one in that list. That's literally five people, for those of you keeping count at home. In DD? A large cast of interesting characters for him to interact with, possibly childhood acquaintances that know him! We have Rebecca, purple hair metagross trainer who likes her computer more than most people. Sid, a human golden retriever. Rafe, who's basically Drew but with brown hair and none of the redeeming qualities. The two twins, whose names are never spoken and are only in the credits as Audrey and Kathryn (one of them also has a masquerain iirc, or at least a Surskit!). And Tory, kid who is scared of pokemon and tbh I wouldn't change Tory's role or screen interactions much. I would, however, say the others have a lot of potential for interactions with Drew. Rafe taunting both Ash and Drew at the same time? Rebecca and Drew getting along well because they're the only two who appreciate silence as a form of hanging out? Audrey and Katherine taking little sibling roles, possibly? Tons of possibilities here.
3.) Shamelessly plugging the contestshipping agenda here, but why else do you all follow me? Anyways, Sid from Destiny Deoxys has a sweet but entirely blatant crush on May (who actually knows and does not give much of a shit, though they get along well anyways). Now, I usually do not like jealousy tropes. I think they're easy to do poorly and for them to come across as posessive, which I am not a fan of. HOWEVER, I am a fan of Drew being all moody and bitchy /affectionate. I can see it going either one of two ways: one, we get asshole Drew back from season one of Advanced, who makes snide remarks at Sid who would likely brush it off as fun banter, further annoying Drew who literally cannot get under Sid's skin due to Sid's overwhelming optimism, or two, we get the Drew that has all of his walls up, hiding behind this cool facade of professionalism and aloofness, sort of emotionally overcompensating for trying to hide how much it irks him. Either way, would have been fun. Could have been used for comedy, too, since May is dumb as shit with the guy who has genuine feelings for her, but clocks the puppy love crush from Sid immediately. Would I have trusted the pokemon company to do this trope well? No, but it could have been funny as hell in the right hands.
4.) On that note, THE PASSPORT PHOTO SCENE. May isn't the most photogenic person in the world. Does he tease her about it? Does he make some offhand remark about how he thinks she looks nice before aloof-ly and deftly moving on from the topic, leaving her with the rare compliment as she tries to figure out if he was serious or not (or was it for her beautifly)? Does he show her how to retake it? DOES SHE GENUINELY SMILE IN THAT RETAKE PHOTO, LOOKING AT HIM BEHIND THE CAMERA ROBOT THING???????ASDFGHJKL so much potential with this already gold scene.
5.) More location-based character building. LaRousse City is home to the (or at least a) Battle Tower, and no mention of contests. This means, likely, that LaRousse is a very battle-enthusiast city. Did this make Drew feel like an outcast as a kid, being interested in something different from his peers? Could have been interesting.
6.) Let Drew have his hero moment. Let's be honest- most of the times that we see him, he's being either a jerk (affectionate), head-over-heels in love, or pathetic (see: Who What When Where Wynaut drowning incident). And in what I would categorize as an adventure anime, he has remarkably... little adventuring, save for a traipse in the woods with On Cloud Arcanine. This can be his moment to actually shine! He's obviously a great battler, though he prefers contest-oriented formats. He beat Ash with a type disadvantage. He's a strong trainer- let him put it to use and try to hold off the Deoxys clones (bonus points if he's holding them off from May, not that she needs him to save her ass).
7.) Forced togetherness with the crew. We know Drew has no issue spending time with May, and he's at the very least quite tolerant of Ash. But... Brock? Max? Fun fact, Brock CANONICALLY does NOT like Drew. At all. Calls him nails on a chalkboard. Makes this face at him (pictured below). Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want more of that. Tell me to my face that you don't want more of him having to socialize and of Brock being... like this. Shit's hilarious.
Look at him.
I need more of this in my life.
8.) The angst. He has his entire city destroyed, let him have a grieving moment for it. Hell, let him have a moment where May tries to reach out and he has to decide if he's going to let her in or shut her out. Does he snap, like he did in May, We Harley Drew'd Ya? Does he let her in, like The Unbeatable Lightness of Seeing? Do the other LaRoussians reach out to him and let him know, hey, we're in this together? DO THE PLUSLE AND MINUN TRY TO CHEER HIM UP??????
9.) Let him get separated from the group, or let the group get separated from him. Let him have panic, uncertainty, worry for his newfound friends. Humanize him a little bit for casual viewers who know him as 'that asshole with the roses'. You know how Pokemon loves shots of people reaching out to save someone? Give me that. Let him not reach their hand in time as Deoxys clones pull them away or as they get lost in a swarm of security bots. Give me a Drew that thinks he’s failed, that it’s his fault. It isn’t of course, I just like putting him through it. Then… give me a reunion scene. An “oh my god, you’re all safe, I thought I had lost you” scene. Did you guys know we don’t get a single contestshipping hug????? Ever???? No, her keeping him from drowning doesn’t count. I think that’s a crime and I think a “thank god you’re alive” hug, from either end, would be amazing. Ship mode activated. Imagine. May, spotting him from across the city plaza once the dust settles, and sprinting to him, nearly knocking him over with a hug that he hesitantly returns, before realizing he doesn’t want to let go. Alternately, the other way around: he lets his walls down long enough to hug her, to feel safe to break down for a minute in her arms because he was so fucking worried. May, short-circuiting slightly because wait, is this really the same rival that she accidentally threw a frisbee at and hated so long ago? Give me Sid reacting forlornly in the background too fhdhhf. I love Sid, he’ll be ok. (Also: Brock having a moment of “Oh. You’re still alive. Great.” Kidding, mostly.) also… Brock giving Sid a “yeah, I know how it feels” pat on the back???? Just a concept.
10.) More Roselia teasing him. She's the biggest contestshipper out there. I love this little green rose gal. We need more of her being snarky to her trainer. She had so much personality with so few appearances, I love her. GIVE HIS OTHER POKEMON PERSONALITIES TOO!!!! Give them time to shine! My own takes here, but I like to think Absol is over Drew's bullshit 24/7 and is the serious one of the group. Flygon? no thoughts head empty, like most reptiles. Ft. a picture of my own no thoughts head empty reptile, who made friends with a cricket in his cleaning bowl below under Roselia gif. The others, no idea but there's my takes.
153 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sindria's Prophet #34
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33]
[AO3] [wattpad]
*Sinbad feeling jealous and possessive (this is why I put the kinda yandere tag on AO3) (it will also become a thing for a while so expect to see it tagged here often)
~POV Generals~
What had they just witnessed? Mori waved at them as she left to return to the festival; all the while, the Womanizer of the Seven Seas stared after her instead of paying attention to the women on his lap. No one had expected Mori to flirt with Sinbad to tell him 'no,' but clearly it was affective. All of the Generals knew of the growing soft spot Sinbad was forming for his Prophet, but never had they expected their over confident King to look so lost.
The giant's laugh boomed across the whole platform, Sharrkan whistled, and Yam squealed.
Yam was barely able to contain herself. "The Rukh are going crazy! There's no way he could deny his feelings after that!!! Mori will definitely move into the Purple Leo Tower sooOOoon~!"
Pisti giggled and added. "Why stop there? She should just move straight into King Sinbad's bed."
Sharrkan gestured towards them with his cup. "Here's to you two making winning the bet better for my pockets."
On the first day the Generals met Mori they started placing bets. Would Sinbad realize his feelings before going to the Kou Empire? Would Mori be moved into the Purple Leo Tower as soon as Sinbad realizes? Both women immediately bet that Mori would move into the Purple Leo Tower before the trip to the Kou Empire -Yam because of what she saw in the Rukh, and Pisti because she thought she could push them into it with enough interventions and it was funny to her. Nearly all the Generals placed bets one by one. Sharrkan waited until after the meeting the other day, when he decided on Sinbad not being interested in Mori at all.
Yam yelled at her 'Arch Nemesis,' "What's that supposed to mean??"
"Have you seen our King? If he was actually interested in Mori this would be over already."
"Are you blind??"
Drakon commented at the other table. "He can be very stubborn, but it seems even Sinbad is finally notices the change in himself." The first household member had bet that his King would ultimately figure it out before his trip to the Kou Empire.
Hina mused. "He's like a little kid having a crush for the first time. At least he's mature enough to not pull their hair as he struggles to figure it out." The giant's bet was on Sin not realizing his feelings until after he leaves for the Kou Empire. Their separation would be the trigger.
"True," Drakon agreed, "but he doesn't have the best track record. Sinbad has no experience with a real relationship."
"Ain't that the truth. Still, I'm sure we'll be hearing good news soon."
Drakon smiled and nodded with his old friend.
Pisti yelled, "I have to know what she said!" before following after Mori.
For the record: Masrur had added to both Drakon and Hina's bets instead of making his own -he trusted the experience of 2 men that had actually gotten married over the words of a womanizer. Spartos refused to be a part of the bet on principle. Nearly all of the Generals agreed on 1 thing: as soon as/if Sinbad accepts he's in love, nothing could stop him. Ja'far was the outlier on that point. Sinbad was following Mori's pace whether he was conscious of it or not. If Mori wasn't ready he'd hold back which meant that even if Sin did realize his feelings, there was a high chance that nothing would change right away, so the only bet he placed was against Sharrkan.
---
~POV Mori~
I held back giggling until I was out of sight. I don't know if Sin naturally gets more subby when he's drunk but it was in line with how he's shown getting clingy and sappy when drunk in the og and side comics. Regardless, doming him was thrilling. It was obvious that Sinbad preferred being the dom, but as a switch, I was happy to learn he could be a good sub for me under the right conditions~ (I may be asexual, but I'm the horny sex favorable type, and into BDSM.) I know I won't have an opportunity to actually be sexual with Sinbad since we'll never be in a relationship -I set those rules to protect myself- so I would just have to enjoy playing with him outside of a bedroom.
I meant what I told him too; he can be with whomever he wants when I'm not around because if someone is mine they will come back to me with their full attention -not that Sinbad was actually mine. 'That shocked expression on him was so cute!' This felt wonderful. For that moment I was the only thing he could think about. It was almost like he had feelings for me. It didn't stop me from being pissed though. 'He really asked me to join a bunch of call girls that were being paid to fawn over him??' At least he took his punishment well, so I was able to let off some steam.
It wasn't enough though. I had too much energy left. The mix of negative feelings barely hiding under the good ones were a strong reminder to my ex fiancé. Wish fulfillment would only trigger me. I needed a distraction asap. There was still one thing I hadn't gotten to do yet at this festival -and I love dancing and singing- so I chose that.
As if to answer my wish, the waves brought Pisti to me. After I answered her questions, she was more than happy to help me learn the dances here in Sindria. Most of the dancers were locals, but there was an area where tourists were learning some of the basics. Pisti stayed with me until one of her boyfriends showed up and whisked her away. By that point I had found my rhythm so I didn't have a problem with not knowing anyone. No one would bother me here. The more I embraced the moment and unmasked, the happier I was. Finally. This was what I needed. The waves helped me learn the patterns of the music and dances, so I could keep up better.
---
~POV Generals~
The women around Sinbad whined for his attention, and he returned it, but barely. It was obvious to everyone who had known him through the last decade that his heart wasn't in it. The Womanizer of the Seven Seas was unable to keep it up. He got up and walked to the edge of the platform alone. He was standing there before Pisti came back and remained staring out at the festival after she returned and explained that Mori wouldn't be back anytime soon.
Sahel, Drakon's wife, smiled. "I see why you thought it was different this time."
Her husband nodded, "I believe this might be the moment I was waiting for. Our King is finally thinking about it in earnest."
Sharrkan grumbled into his cup. "If he realized he likes her, then why isn't he doing anything?"
Sahel answered, "He's still processing his feelings." She looked between her husband and Hina. "Teasing him will only make him double down."
The giant rested an arm on the table and leaned on it. "Then how would you push him?"
She put down her cup and turned towards their King. "Your Majesty!" Sahel called out and Sinbad looked back at her. "You should go after her if you're that worried!"
The King pressed a hand against his closed eyes before combing it through his bangs.
"It will make you feel better!"
Sin turned back towards the festival.
Hinahoho snorted another laugh. "I thought you said not to tease him!"
"Give it time."
---
~POV Mori~
When I finally stepped off the dance floor, the moon was high in the sky. I got carried away and turned wrong, so my left hip tried to pop out of the socket. I've had loose joints since I was little so I knew how to take care of it. After putting it back in place, I tried to find a place to sit down; my legs felt ready to give out on me. Most of the benches were taken up by the elderly, and families with young children just like earlier. I finally found a spot a bit out of the way. As soon as I sat down, I knew I was not going to be able to get up for a while; my feet, back and hips burned from over use even after fixing my bone alignment. My feet would be fine in an hour (I pace all the time), but I could tell I wouldn't be so lucky with the rest. I looked around at the view that was going to keep me company while I rested. Luckily, I could still see the King's platform from here, and the steps leading up to the Palace over the city- "Shit." 'I have to climb those steps, and the steps of the guest tower get to my room. Maybe I should stay at a hotel tonight. I'll send Sin the bill since this is his fault.'
---
~POV Sinbad~
Somehow, that was the hottest thing Sinbad had ever experienced and it was someone turning him down. None of what happened made any sense to him while it was happening. That feeling only Mori gave him had filled him to the point of stupidity. Mori said they fell for him while reading his Fate; even if it was said in jest, there had to be some truth in it, so how could they turn him down? Becoming sober let him remember Mori admitting to being a tease on purpose. 'Damnit.'
No matter how much the others made fun of their King, he wouldn't budge. Nothing was wrong with him. He wasn't sulking. Sure, not flirting with groups of women was the rarity for him, but the Prophet knew exactly how to get under his skin. He had been too drunk when Mori was messing with him, but not so drunk as to follow after them. Still, he couldn't deny that ever since they left he was abundantly aware of their absence. 'Maybe I should follow after them.' It is what he had wanted to do since morning.
Pisti had returned hours ago, but not the Prophet. Hina even took his children home to bed, and the other Generals started turning in, but Mori still hadn't returned. Ja'far let him know that the Sindrian knights that were guarding the Prophet were sending reports, but it wasn't enough. The King had to go make sure everything was fine with his own eyes.
The waves led him to where Mori was sitting on a bench farther away from the dance stages than he was expecting, and she wasn't alone. There was a group of men around her. The fact that Mori was smiling at them made something dark twist Sinbad's insides. She didn't like when he flirted with multiple people in front of her, and yet here she was doing the same thing to him -although, she didn't know he would see.
One of those men grabbed her hand and all of Sinbad's muscles tensed on reflexed. Mori's expression and tone hardened immediately. "What do you think you're doing?!" She wasn't interested in them at all. The only person she likes holding her hand is Sinbad.
He shouldn't feel this giddy that she rejected them. Maybe something was wrong with him after all. Sinbad called out to announce his presence. "So this is where my Beautiful Prophet has been." The men surrounding her froze in a satisfying way.
"King Sinbad!" Mori looked tired, and the glint in her eyes was relief that he came for her.
Sinbad shouldn't have held back from following after her. The waves rose the closer he got.
The man holding Mori's hand let go and took a step back after making eye contact with the King. Sinbad directed his words at his Beautiful Prophet, "It's getting awfully late," then scanned the faces of the group bothering her, "You were planning on coming back soon, weren't you?" And then looked back at her.
Mori's laugh was full the nerves. "I wanted to go back much earlier, but I uh..." she glanced at the recent problem before looking back at her King.
The group of men said some hurried good'byes before leaving around the corner. Too bad for them that the waves gave away that they were still there -just out of sight.
Sinbad offered Mori his hand. "Now that you're free, let me escort you back." He wanted to replace the memory of that man's hand with his own.
Mori took his hand with the one he wanted, but stayed sitting. "Thank you for coming to get me." They squeezed his hand.
His heart swelled; he squeeze her hand back. "The waves will always lead me to you whenever you need me."
Her face turned a little pink. "You never quit, do you?"
"Do you want me to?" Sin teased.
Mori's smile dropped as she seemed to think about his question honestly. She answered through a pout. "No... because then you wouldn't be you."
He laughed. "Good. Because I don't want to stop either." Mori's words always managed to warm his heart. "Shall we go back now?"
Her free hand gripped the fabric of her skirt. "People talking to me isn't the main reason I'm still here."
"Hmm?" he encouraged.
Her smile grew like a child being caught red-handed. "I danced so much that I hurt my hips..."
Sin wished he had seen it. "Ah- Pisti said you were dancing." The stage was too far away from where he sat. He'd have things rearranged for next time.
"Yeah. It was really fun but," she looked down at her legs, "I can tell my legs will give out if I try to walk back on my own right now." Her head whipped back up at him, and she flailed her free hand. "I was hoping I'd be better enough to walk back *before* someone came looking for me."
The feeling of being watched stole his attention for a moment. Those men were still watching from around the corner to see if Sinbad was going to leave Mori alone again. He hadn't been completely sure at first, but this was proof they were coveting his Beautiful Prophet. 'Now what should I do to make sure no one else-'
"HMM???" Mori's voice cracked and pulled his attention back to her. They made eye contact and she took her hand back from him to covered her face with both hands. "It's nothing! I'm tired so I just had a very dumb idea for how I could get back without walking."
"Oh?" This side of her always made him want to tease her. "I want to hear this 'dumb idea.'" Mori's knees tensed, and the way she moved one hand to pulled at the fabric there paired with her words and made a very interesting idea form in his own head. In fact, it was a good way make sure unnecessary people stayed away from Mori in the future. Sinbad didn't want to end up punishing his own citizens because his Prophet was too Beautiful to resist. The waves were on his side.
Mori released the remaining hand covering her face and started flailing it in front of herself as if she was trying to shoo something away. "Don't pay attention to it! I said it's stupid! It's not necessary!"
It took a second for Sinbad to realize what she was talking about. She was trying to shoo away the waves that were gathering around them. The waves were responding to his idea, but from Mori's reaction it was also the 'stupid idea' she was hiding. These waves were moving this way because they wanted the same thing! His heart felt like it was going to burst from that feeling only Mori gave him. He couldn't blame this on being drunk like he could earlier. He couldn't say if this feeling was what everyone thought it was yet -this was still too new to him to be sure- but he also couldn't deny that Mori was special to him. Sinbad had never felt particularly lonely, and yet meeting someone else that could undeniably feel the same waves as him gave him a sense of connection he didn't know he was missing.
He could respond properly, but that was less fun. "What shouldn't I pay attention to?" He smiled as he leaned over her.
Mori glared up at him, but he wouldn't respond until she said it directly. "My waves." Yes. She was the only other person that could feel the waves. She was able to understand an aspect of his lived experience that no one else would ever be able to truly understand. And what's more, she knew his greatest mistakes and still stayed by his side.
Sinbad laughed. "Yes. But what about them isn't necessary?" She was being too cute to correct right away.
Why wouldn't he want to make sure no one could take her from him? Surely, not wanting to keep her all to himself would be a true sign that there was something wrong with him. If this feeling was what everybody thought it was then he was starting to understand the hype.
"You-!" Her face was growing more red by the second. Mori clenched her eyes and turned her head down. "Their suggestion!" Her hands held her legs by her knees where the waves were focusing. When he didn't respond, Mori's eyes peeked up at him while her head continued to face down. "...It's not something a King should do, right? And... those rumors have already spread outside the Palace..."
She was right; only a few hours ago, he was intentionally trying to counter those rumors. And she rejected him because of that decision. King Sinbad let out a sigh he couldn't hold back and uncrossed his arms. Her expression was a challenge to deny it, and he obliged, "It's fine." He had let his Generals teasing bother him to the point that he missed something very important. Not anymore.
"But..." Mori's protest had no strength behind it.
Sinbad rested a hand on the back of the bench. She fell for him while reading his Fate, but she also couldn't see past everything she knew about him from those same visions -just like he had also been stuck in his own self perception. Yes, he was finally seeing things clearly. If Mori had never told him about those parts of her visions then he would have figured it out sooner. "Let me help you get back. I don't mind walking with you, but I have a feeling we've both thought of a faster method. These wave are responding to my will just as much as yours."
Mori broke eye contact. "But... I don't want to be the reason others pressure you about something you hate that much. In my visions you had a nightmare about being married." She's wasn't rejecting him because she's didn't want him. It was because she was afraid of being rejected by him if she crossed the line.
It was true that he had never he wanted to get married or have a partner before but, "I'm actually fanning those rumors on purpose right now." Mori's head whipped back to look at him; their expression asked the question they couldn't verbalize. He was fully willing and able to change to get whatever he wanted.
Mori's blush reached it's fullest extent. "Ah- um." They broke eye contact. "Gimme a minute."
"Take your time," was what he said but it wouldn't be long before they'd agree. The waves had only gotten stronger.
Not even 30 seconds later Mori furrowed their brow. "It is late. And I'm exhausted. And I shouldn't walk in this condition. And there's no way I'm going be better enough get there on my own tonight." Sin laughed at the excuses they were using to accept it. They looked up at him. "I don't know why you want to feed the rumors now, but don't ignore the new rule I placed when you want to get rid of them again."
There was no way in hell he'd flirt with anyone other than Mori when they were an option. "You'll never have to worry about me doing that ever again."
"Okay then." Their expression dared him to take it back, but he never would.
"Then, may I carry you, my Beautiful Prophet?" Sinbad learned earlier that night, that Mori prefers explicit over implicit consent, and using it on her made her pupils dilate in a very satisfying way.
Mori hid her face in her hands again. She took a few deep breaths as she regained the will to answer. A quiet, "Yes," snuck past her fingers, and was followed by a slightly louder, "I'll just be embarrassed."
"I can live with that." Sinbad reached down to follow through on the waves' direction. His right hand went under her knees, and his left around her shoulders. Mori continued to cover her face with her hands as he lifted her. She didn't hesitate to lean her head against his shoulder. The weight in his arms made that dark feeling from earlier dissipated completely. 'Mine.' Carrying her back would send the clearest message: Mori wasn't just Sindria's Prophet, she was Sinbad's Prophet.
((Time to remember to breathe.
I was on a stay at home vacation this week so I was able to make time to finish this chapter. And because I had extra time I gave in and painted the last illustration :3
I'm going to try to have the last 2 chapters of the arc done very close to each other because of all the emotions involved))
#magi prophet fanfic#magi sinbad#sinbad x oc#sinbad magi#king sinbad#sinbadxoc#magi fanfiction#magi fanart#kinda yandere
43 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fagzone
FREE PALESTINE
tafiiswerdi
Untitled
travoconnections
Travo Connection
accio-rpg
Hogwarts University (Accio RPG 2.0)
aliyah-78
Aliyah