#and he doesn't speak - aloud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickfowlerrr · 4 months

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sit me on your throne.

pairing: geralt of rivia x curvy!reader

warnings: i don't know what i'm writing about but if you're here for smut, there's smut. 18+ only. probably ooc - i've only seen season one. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged please let me know.

words: 4.3k

notes: i really truly do not know. forgive me not.

thank you in advance for reading! any thoughts, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. let me know what you think. (unless its mean then pls don't).

"You kneel before me?"

Your question is born of nothing but pure confusion as you tilt your head in bemusement at the bulking behemoth of a man before you.

He hadn’t done as much when he first arrived, not to your displeasure, so it was odd to see him do it now - especially after the battle he has just fought.

He is at your feet, his long white hair darker and dingier now, dirty as his clothes and skin; marred with caked mud and what you can only assume is the blood and guts of the beast he has defeated.

The stench he carries with him is pungent, nothing but putrid, and yet that somehow doesn't take from his striking good looks; those paired with his brevity and bluntness have held your attention from the moment he stepped foot in your kingdom.

He is a man of little words, this Geralt of Rivia. His jester of a companion having done much of the speaking - perhaps too much - for him since they arrived.

Geralt says nothing still, only meets your gaze as he takes steady breaths. His yellow eyes, feline and harsh, cut through you in a number of ways - none of which you'd care to share aloud. You have a feeling he knows, however, just how affected you are by him no matter how well you think you hide it.

You are alone together, no guards at the ready, no advisors by your side. Most of your kingdom is now quiet and abandoned, including the halls of your once flourishing and lively home. The halls of this castle have been eerily silent since the night your men went on their mission to save their homestead. You had already sent word for The Witcher, you implored them to keep safe indoors until his arrival. They did not listen. Most of them still having seen you as the young princess you once were, the others simply following the orders of their leaders. You may have been their "Queen", but their faith in their commanders was stronger.

Those commanders who led them to their deaths... You still sigh at the loss.

Those who were not taken, slain, by the beast have long since fled for their lives. You cannot blame them. But you certainly could not join them. Your castle once held many souls, but now it is only you and a handful of others. Titles of servants, but you really never were one for titles.

"Your friend?" you wonder.

"Somewhere," he answers shortly, his voice low and deep as he speaks.

You quirk a brow, "Safe?"

"For as long as he keeps himself from trouble."

You hum, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Their relationship amuses you, you must admit.

"You needn't kneel, Witcher," you implore as you sit back on the throne. It is yours in name alone. It has never felt right to sit in. He seems to sense your unease, but he doesn't speak it. You continue, "You have done what you said you would, I will do the same."

Still, he doesn't stand. Not until you flick your eyes and move to stand yourself. He rises easily as he stands before you still. There is not much distance between you, and the stench of him stings your eyes and threatens to gag you. Your face scrunches in disgust as you turn it away from him, grimacing.

"I've had a bath readied for you, and new clothes set aside," you inform him, moving to pass around. He follows you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as his eyes cling to you. "Your meals will be served as soon as you're done. I don't imagine anyone would be able to stomach a bite with that smell coming off of you."

He says nothing but lets out an amused "hm" at your words, still following as you lead him to the bathing room.

You thank Amaleah as you enter and she leaves with a nod to you, her breath catching when she smells Geralt enter behind you. It's as fast an exit as you've ever seen.

You move toward the bath and wade a hand in the water. It's a bit hot for your preferences but it should get him clean. You ensure the soap Amaleah brought in is fragrant enough and still look for some nicer oils to add to the water; when you turn around to ask your guest his want, you find yourself stunned silent as you're met with the sight of his broad, bare chest. His muscles flex under his pale and scarred skin as he moves, his solid chest is covered in dark hair, trailing down his torso. His arms are strong and big and a thought at the back of your mind wonders how comfortable he must be to lie with.

You blink, mouth parted slightly as you take a breath. You watch his clothing fall as he discards them and your gaze follows his hand as he begins to strip himself of the rest of his garments.

He is completely shameless as he watches you watch him. You feel as if you are in a trance, you cannot bring yourself to look away despite the heavy weight of his gaze assuring you he sees you staring.

It’s not an act of brazenness, truly you would look away and leave him at once…if you could.

“I’ve slain your monster,” he speaks and your eyes rise back to his chest, trying to ignore the heaviness of his thick cock as it hangs so temptingly before you. No, not temptingly…Shamelessly. He has put himself entirely on display before you, without an ounce of shame or concern, and you are still frozen to your spot. “Was there something else you required of me, Your Highness?”

The title gets your attention, the breath caught in your chest finally flows and your eyes flick up to meet his. You can't tell entirely if he meant it as an insult or if he thought you'd prefer it to Queen.

You remain quiet for a moment as you try to gather a response. Either way...

“I told you that wasn’t necessary, Witcher.”

“Geralt.”

You swallow hard as he takes a small step forward, and you will yourself to not break his intense gaze.

"Geralt. I thank you, for saving what was left of this ruined kingdom, but I consider myself not princess, nor Queen, any longer."

"Did you ever?" he asks, staring into your eyes a moment longer before he steps closer still, looking you up and down then nudging you aside, eliciting goosebumps along your skin, rising under his touch.

You glance over your shoulder as he continues past you, lowering himself into the tub.

You think.

You know your answer, but you won't say it aloud. Clearly he knows it, too.

You can hear the water sloshing with his movements as he begins to clean himself.

You take a deep breath.

"The clothes will be brought in shortly. You might tell Jaskier when you're done that the food is ready."

"Ah," he says amid his washing, "so you do know his name."

"Of course I do. I've grown quite fond of the bard in the week since you've arrived."

"I couldn't tell," he says plainly, yet still biting - his words sharp with sarcasm.

You furrow your brow at his meaning and then there's a laugh at the door and you look to see Jaskier as he leans on it. "You sound jealous, there, Geralt," he taunts, holding folded clothing in his hands as he pushes off the door to saunter in. "I wouldn't worry. I don't believe I'm the one who's caught her eye." He looks to you with a smirk, bowing before you, "Your Majesty."

"I am no longer queen," you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

"My Queen, none the less," he simpers before standing to his full height.

You smile tightly, eyes narrowed playfully at him before you finally move to exit, leaving them to their inevitable quarreling. And trying not to focus on the tingling still affecting you between your legs.

You eat with the women in the kitchen; the dining hall one of your least favorite places to be.

There is a calm yet solemn energy around you all. A peace in the slaying of the monster who took your kingdom, and still the grief from the loss of it all, your people, their families, friends...

Calliope readies the plates for your guests as you bid them all a goodnight, kissing Amaleah's son on his head on your way out with a 'sweet dreams'. Since his father was killed, the poor thing has nightmares recurringly. You only hope with the monster's demise, they might ease for him some. He is far too young to be in such pain...

You think to pass by the dining hall on your way to bed to thank Geralt once more and wish them both a goodnight as well but think better of it.

You will see them in the morning before they set off. You still owe him his coin and you know he won't be leaving without it.

You open the heavy door of your chamber and once you are inside, begin to undress.

Slipping into your shift, you swiftly make your way into bed. You thought you'd fall asleep quickly, but as you lay there, your mind wanders to thoughts of only one.

You have one hand on your lower belly, the other resting on the soft skin right above it.

You sigh and close your eyes, but all you see when you do is his built form. His dark, firelight stare set on you. His clothes left on the ground as he stands strong in his glory.

You breathe deeply, your hand starting to slowly drift down your stomach as you tickle yourself. You're so tempted to touch where you want it most, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Not just yet.

You slip your hand between your spread thighs, softly running your fingers across the sensitive skin you find there.

It'd been a week of torment, having Geralt so close and not being able to act on your most base feelings. You know he knows what you think when you look at him, if Jaskier can see it, surely, he can too.

You might feel embarrassed but with the way he's managed to get closer and closer to you with each passing day as he awaited the beasts' return, you would wager he feels similarly.

It feels like an age that you lie awake. All the noises about the castle, not that there were many, have settled and it assures you everyone has retired for the night.

Sleep begins to nip at you but the stronger pull is to the dissatisfaction that weighs on you. The emptiness that echos through your body and soul.

Your fingers twitch, and you begin to glide closer to your uncovered core, the need to be touch too much to be ignored for much longer. Your eyes are closed and you imagine it isn't your hand running over your skin, but rather his large, rough palm feeling you, teasing you just so...

Just as you inch closer, your eyes snap open in the dark as a heartbreaking scream cuts through the night air. You sit up, pulling your hands off of yourself. You know immediately where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.

You get out of bed, intent to make sure Hartley and Amaleah both are okay.

You open your door just as the one across the wide hall does the same. You frighten at the unexpected movement but are then unsurprised to be across Geralt.

He is shirtless again, and his eyes are wide as his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hard.

"Yes, I'm fine. It was the boy, Hartley. He has nightmares," you explain, keeping your voice quiet as to not disturb the renewed peace of the night.

The flick of the flame that lights the hallway allows you both to see one another. You say nothing for a moment as your eyes fall to his bare torso.

"Did the clothes not fit?"

He looks down at himself briefly, then back to you. He shakes his head, "I prefer to sleep naked."

You burn at his words, swallowing hard. "Oh. Well, I- I'm going to check on them, make sure they're fine."

"I'll go with you."

It's not a question, it's a statement. You stop in your start, turning to look at him. You say nothing, just blink and quickly carry on as you were.

You make your way down the stairs and down the hall until you see the flames licking at the end of the hallway.

You follow the glow to Amaleah's room and knock gently as you look in the open door.

She turns and looks to you, her eyes tired and cheeks damp as she rocks her toddler in her arms. He is sleeping again as she rubs his back gently, more to soothe herself than anything.

She sniffles, "Your High-" she stops herself, "sorry, forgive me," she whispers.

"Don't apologize. Please," you implore her. "I know it's habit."

"Are you two alright?" Geralt asks from right at your back.

"We are, thank you. Just another nightmare," her voice gets thick at the explanation. You know it hurts her that there isn't anything she can do but be there to comfort him when they come.

You smile sadly and nod. "We'll let you be, then. Do try to get some rest. He'll be okay," you reassure her.

You pull the door nearly closed and wind up with Geralt firmly at your back.

You turn into him but he doesn't seem to mind as he just looks down at you nearly pressed against his chest. You try to budge him to turn and move back down the hall but he doesn't waver. After a second, he relents and steps to the side, allowing you to go back down the hallway first.

It isn't until you come up on the throne room that Geralt speaks again.

"Might I have a word with you?" he asks.

You stop and turn to eye him as he stands at the entryway of the door.

"Now?" you question.

He nods once, "Now."

You approach him trepidatiously, and as you near, he gestures you in the room before him, extending his arm, "Princess."

Your eyes narrow again. And you turn on him, watching as he enters the room behind you. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What am I doing?"

"Princess? Your Highness?" you quote him.

"I assumed you preferred it to your true title," he tilts his head at you.

"True title," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "I prefer no title at all."

"And what shall I call you then?"

You remind him your name, not that he really needs to be reminded. You know he knows it full well.

He considers you, then closes in on where you stand in front of the throne.

You don't move back, no, you quite like the closeness when he doesn't reek of death and innards.

Geralt seems to appreciate your resolve, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile as he studies your face.

"It's a beautiful name," he speaks lowly, taking another step into your space and raising his hand to gently caress your cheek before he leans in to speak against your ear. Your hands touch his solid stomach in an attempt to keep yourself upright, you can feel the muscles as they flex under your delicate graze. "I think I might prefer princess," he husks.

He slips away from you, turning to take a seat on the throne instead. You follow his movements and turn yourself to face him. You're stunned and completely set ablaze all at once.

"Well I don't."

"No," he smirks, agreeing with you, one large hand settling on his thick thigh as he spreads his legs, "you don't."

"It's too bad," he tsks, his voice a smooth rumbling. "No title, no throne."

"I don't want any throne."

Your eyes are glued to his thighs as he brings attention to his lap by rubbing the muscle there.

"None?" he asks before his gaze shifts directly on you, his mesmerizing stare burning into you. His voice lowers deeper than you've ever heard as a desperate longing shoots through you once again, resounding deep in your core. "Not even mine?"

Your mouth goes dry and your brain fuzzy as you take in his meaning.

Unthinking, you step toward him closer.

"You mean to defile the very one you sit on?"

"You don't seem to care for it much anyway."

Another step.

You are nearly stood between his spread legs, carefully you reach out a hand, your fingers light on his thigh. You feel his muscle then, flicking your eyes up. His gaze is dark and heated.

"That's true enough," you say, your voice breathy in a near whisper.

You gasp as your suddenly pulled closer by Geralt's rough hands around your waist. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your shift and its only then you realize how much of your figure he has seen thanks to your nightwear.

"Truer still," he speaks, "I don't mean to defile this throne." He squeezes your plush waist, groping you through your shift as your hands latch onto his solid shoulders. "I mean to defile you."

He manages to pull you onto his lap with little effort, leaning in to crash his lips into yours.

You kiss him back hungrily, chasing his lips as you settle on his lap. Your fingers wind in his hair and you can feel his cock growing beneath you through the material of his pants.

His hands slide down your waist and over your wide hips, reaching for the hem of your shift and pulling it up. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan, shifting your hips atop him.

You pull away, reaching for your dress and pulling it over your head, discarding it behind your back.

Geralt holds you closer, letting his lips explore your heavy breasts as you allow your head to fall back in pleasure, your hands returning to his hair.

"Geralt," you breathe, pulling him off you after a moment.

"Mm," he hums, kissing the swell of your breast once more before he moves to free himself from the restraint of his pants. He knows what you’ve both been wanting for days. What you need.

One heavy hand returns to your back, holding you by your waist while his other grips his red, throbbing cock.

He moves his tip up and down your slick center, making you whimper as he teases you - his cockhead rubbing delightfully against your sensitive clit.

He watches your face scrunch in rapture and holds you tighter to stop your wiggling about as you whimper.

He smiles smugly to himself and when you're just about to open your mouth to protest his teasing, he finally pulls you down on top of him. The sound that escapes you is music to his ears as you grasp onto him, your nails digging into the muscle of his back as your walls squeeze and stretch to accommodate his thick length, the size of him almost too much for you to take.

"Fuck," he groans as your walls tighten around him. He gives you a moment before he begins to urge you to move. He guides your hips, slow and sensually. The feeling of his hands on you motivates you to try and ride him yourself. And you do try, but you cry out again at how big he is, how fully he is stuffing you. You can barely move.

Geralt kisses you as he holds you closer, taking pity on your tight cunt and instead he moves his hands to your soft hips again. He holds you on top of him securely before he begins to fuck up into you.

You mewl as he jostles you, bouncing you up and down his cock, your breasts moving in time.

You pull on his hair, forcing him to look up from where his gaze was fixed, watching his own cock as he stretched you out for him, watching as your cunt took as much of him in as she could, up to your hooded lust filled gaze. You lean into him, chest to chest as you kiss him fervently. His lips follow yours as you taste one another. You nip at his lip and he growls, his hands gripping the ample flesh of your ass, "Keep that up," he snarls.

"And you'll what?" you breathe heavily, eyes screwed shut, jaw tight as you deadbrain on the pleasure coursing through you.

Your answer is a harsh thrust of his cock inside of you, stealing your breath while he slaps your ass, your flesh stinging from the force.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper debauchedly, your velvety walls squeezing him ever tighter as you feel yourself growing closer with every bounce. The tip of him hitting exactly where you need it to. Your body is on fire and you are loving every second of it. The feeling of him inside of you, of his hands squeezing and caressing you everywhere he can, of his lips demanding yours for more.

His grunts are growing louder and his thrusts more powerful, you kiss him hard in an effort to quiet him some, but you can feel what is coming.

Geralt is near slamming you down on top of him, the sound of your ass slapping against his thick thighs mix with the salacious sounds coming from you both and of your slick wetness as you're worked up and down his shaft, your cunt taking him better and better with each thrust.

Your hands move to hold his face, your noses brush as you breathe each other's air, lips touching just slightly.

"Geralt, I'm,"

"I know," he pants harshly, concentrated before taking your lips in his. You whimper pathetically as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. He keeps you moving a top him, your clit being stimulated with every brush of your hips over his, and then with another deep thrust it snaps before you can speak. Your voice is an empty high then silent squeak as your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. Are you even breathing? Your walls clench down on Geralt's cock and he finally allows himself to reach his own high as your tight walls flutter around him, squeezing him perfectly. You ride the waves of ecstasy as his come spills inside of you. You feel him shudder beneath you and it only adds to your feeling of weightlessness, stars in your eyes as you feel, think, breathe nothing but him.

You part from his lips and your bodies are slick with sweat as you both pant heavily. Geralt holds you to him as he softens inside of you, his forehead pressed to yours as your hand comes behind his neck, holding him to you in kind.

Your lips mimic a kiss but neither of you lean in close enough to actually do it. You work to catch your breath and settle for a minute before you finally break the quiet.

"Do I still owe you your coin?" you breathe, smiling when Geralt laughs in your face. You reach to move a stray strand of hair from his face, holding his cheek gently once you do.

Your stare into one another's eyes for a long moment, just breathing and being close.

"Where will you be off to in the morning?" you ask, hoping your solemn tone isn't as audible as it sounded to you.

"Don't know," he shakes his head, eyes straying to your lips.

You take a breath and pull his face closer to kiss him softly.

"I envy you, you know."

"Don't."

You huff a humorless laugh, readjusting yourself on his lap. "Not because you're a witcher. You may not have the most enviable life, but at least you have one. I've never made it past the most exterior gates," you smile sadly, playing with the hairs on his chest as you avoid his eye now.

"I suppose I'll have the chance, now, though. Thanks to you."

"And where will you go?" he asks.

Your gaze floats up to his and you repeat his previous answer. "I don't know. But I won't stay here. This kingdom is..." you shake your head. "I don't belong here. Never felt like I did. But I made a promise to my mother when I was young, and another to my father before he passed. I know I've let them down," you swallow the rise of emotion threatening to overcome you, "but alas, the fall of a kingdom is ever inevitable. Especially under such rule as my own."

"I've heard word of your rule from many. You're known to be kind. Caring. Protective, even. I don't believe you've failed. I think you were exactly the kind of ruler you should have been, who you needed to be. But perhaps it's a good thing you won't be forced any longer into holding power you don't desire. You're now free to do as you wish."

"I am," you nod lightly in agreement. "If only I knew where to start,” you muse with an uneasy laugh.

His hand runs up your back comfortingly; he's pensive, deep in thought for a long moment before he speaks.

"If you ready your things, I don't think Roach would mind a travel companion of her own. She seems to have taken to Belfast… I'm not sure she'd be ready to part with him so soon, anyway."

"Is that so?" you ask him, faux curiosity playing in your voice.

"And Jaskier is easier to take when I'm not the only one he has around to bother."

"Right," you nod, fighting your soft smile.

"And of course your coin would be useful as well."

"Of course," you exaggerate your agreement. "…Geralt, are you getting at something here?"

"Just that, if you want to join us…you might."

You lean into him again, thumb rubbing along his stubble lining his cheek, and this time he kisses you first. More gently than you expect. You can’t help your smile now.

You part lightly and breathe,

"I hope you mean that, Witcher. Because I just might."

#geralt x curvy!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x curvy!reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt smut #geralt fanfic #henry cavill characters

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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remus x animagus!reader where he doesn’t know it’s her yet, and there’s just always this random cat (or other animal) following him around the castle, and cuddling up to him in the hospital wing after full moons

<333

"You shouldn't be in here."

Remus's stern words hardly deter you, especially because by now he's got the strength to push you off of the bed, but he doesn't. Instead he watches warily, neck craned and rolled into miniscule lines of chub that you'd kiss if you were in your human form, as your paws trace a path up towards his head.

"You're some sort of creature," Remus decides, speaking aloud in the deserted hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey only has one other patient now, but they've been quarantined in a separate room due to the infectious nature of their illness. It means that Remus can speak at will, and you're happy to plant yourself over his chest to feel it vibrate at the sound. You're more accustomed to doing so with your human ears, but it's nicer to hear your boyfriend's voice with cat senses.

"You're too smart to be a regular cat," He lifts a shaky hand up to your head, offering you a chance to inspect him as though you haven't already splayed yourself over his chest, "But the castle doesn't allow many magical pets. Which means you're not supposed to be in here at all. Definitely not in the Hospital Wing."

You offer him a soft, plaintive meow, purring when he strokes his knuckles over the space between your ears.

"Maybe you're an omen," He muses suddenly, eyes narrowing, "No one else ever sees you. Are you warning me of some cruel fate?"

You blink at him, slowly, and he decides, "You're not very threatening for an omen."

Remus has professed the exact same observation about your attempts to be threatening in human form as well. Somehow, the tightening of your brows and the downturn of your lips aren't enough to petrify Remus, though it works rather nicely on errant second-years who find themselves confident enough in the castle to misbehave, but too terrified to face the consequences.

You draw back your shoulders and let your fangs glint in the low lights of the hospital wing, mouth open to hiss warningly at Remus.

Your cruel fate is a good night's sleep, you grouse at him, lamenting the fact that he'll never hear the words, you'd rest more if you weren't always dishing out inexhaustible wit.

"Oh, very scary," He chuckles, poking teasingly at your left pointed fang, "I'm not afraid of you, cat, you couldn't hurt me more than I've already hurt myself."

And it's true.

His limbs, long and lanky, bear the scratch marks of his own claws, gnarled nails that lie in wait under the surface to be beckoned by the moon's silvery siren song. There's a tear on his cheek, skin split and blood carefully wiped clean, where he'd fought with himself, with the will of the universe, and tried clinging to his human skin. He's nursing a rolled ankle from thrashing about during his transformation, and a patch of his hair is still reddened with copper no matter how many times Madame Pomfrey had washed it with a wet washcloth. He's barely a boy anymore, more like a string of injuries hanging together with sutures and dittany.

In hopes that companionship works just as well as Pomfrey's healing remedies, you wriggle closer still to his face, draping yourself over his neck and laying your face against his own. It's an awkward position for him, probably more pressure than he's used to on his windpipe, but you keep your weight off of him as much as possible, and purr like the motor of Sirius's bike against his ear.

He's hesitant to accept it at first, which you knew he would be. He needs to be sought out, he needs someone to hold out their hand for five seconds before he decides to take it or not. You wait, one, two, three, four, five, and he exhales, the air hitting your fur.

"Don't be here when they check on me," He murmurs, hand back at his side as your tail curls around his opposite ear, "Thanks, cat."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one-shot #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin dialogue #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin headcanons #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin hc #remus lupin hcs #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you

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zushikiss · 1 year

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jealousy jealousy

summary ; the genshin boys are jealous.. of a child.

warnings ; nothing, just uhm crack yes, reader is implied to have a vision (childe's)

pairings ; childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

notes ; I GOT BORED DURING ENGLISH CLASS WOOO SO HERE YOU GO, i'd like to think that for scara's the reader works with/for nahida as a companion or smthng but it's up to you! Releasing this from my drafts 😭

─ SCARAMOUCHE

"you're really pretty! i want to be your lover when i grow up!!"

the kid in front of you says aloud as you can only let out a small giggle, choosing to play along instead of telling them off.

"well you better study hard then, so you can get a beautiful lover."

as amusing as the entirety of the situation is, the man beside you is less than amused, is this 8 yr old really challenging him?? do they not understand that you are bound to him now?? nonsense he shouldn't let a practical toddler snatch you away.

he grabs you by your waist, swift yet gentle as he looks at the kid condescendingly.

"this one's mine, find another."

and as if on cue, the kid's mother calls them before they can throw an insult at scaramouche, he turns to you and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

"log no.1362, subject reacts negatively to competition"

"haha very funny."

─ CHILDE

(blue is teucer)

he brought you to his homeland to meet his family, not steal the heart of his little brother, you were performing tricks and making little shapes and random patterns with your vision when your boyfriend's little brother speaks up.

"woah! you're really talented! can i marry you?"

you let out a small giggle as you agreed, you weren't gonna crush this cutie's dreams, and you'd be honored to be teucer's first little crush, though both yours and his sibling's giggles were cut off when he clears his throat.

"i know were siblings but your brother doesn't share teucer."

"nuh-uh you didn't call dibs!"

"he is right ajax.. you didn't call dibs."

"isn't the fact that you're dating me enough to substitute for dibs?"

#genshin scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin smau #childe x gender neutral reader #childe x fem!reader #childe x gn reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x you #genshin scaramouche

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greenandsorrow · 9 months

Text

"Boytoy"

WARNINGS; 18+, shameless smut, ken x fem!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, praise k!nk, size k!nk, virgin!ken, switch!reader, sub!ken, dom!ken, the plot doesn't connect with the movie, kinda slow burn, grammar mistakes

Part 1

"you're a doll, you are flawless"

~flawless, the neighborhood~

Y/n has finally graduated from high school. Not only that, but thanks to her hard work, she's been admitted to a prestigious university only two hours away from her parents' house.

Still, even though the distance between her childhood home and her new school is not that important, y/n is currently packing and will soon be moving into her new, small studio apartment.

It's late in the morning and she's going through her old toys, preserved in cardboard boxes at the back of her closet. Her y/h/c hair's on a bun and she's wearing sweatpants.

Earlier the same morning, with her mom's priceless help, she had managed to go through her desk, bookshelf and drawers, organising, packing or simply putting away all the stuff that has been collected in her bedroom the last eighteen years.

"A dozen Barbie dolls and only one Ken.", she thinks aloud as she's tackling the last box, filled with childhood memories.

Ken is staring at her from the bottom of the box and y/n almost feels guilty at how much she used to ignore him during her childhood play time.

In one impulsive motion she picks him up, while observing his perfect abs, blonde hair contradicting the tan colour of his skin and his cute set of beach wear (stripped shorts and open flannel in pink and blue pastels).

"Poor guy, I've been unfair to you, haven't I?", she chuckles mostly to herself.

At around six in the afternoon y/n's done with packing. She's actually driving to her new place as we speak. What's more, she unconsciously threw Ken in her backpack and is now carrying him along with her. Not that he would complain if he knew.

Y/n's Ken doll has been a part of her toy collection since she was six (she stopped playing with dolls at nine). Unlike her beloved Barbie dolls, Ken's never been y/n's favourite. He's always been just.... there. He was simply included in a Barbie set that her parents gifted her with, at her sixth birthday.

Back at Barbieland, Ken has been facing the consequences of his owner's ignorance for as long as he can remember. While all of y/n's Barbies are confident and spending their days living happily ever after (the aftermath of y/n's love and attention), Ken has always been the black sheep. He isn't exactly bursting with confidence. Neither does he own a Dream house. He's also never invited to the parties the Barbies are often having and to say the least, Ken is lonely. He wishes he could say that he enjoys being by himself most of the time, but without even another Ken, his existence seems pointless.

Ken used to cherish the sporadic attention he would get during y/n's early years in life. An outfit change, a walk at the beach or a small talk with one of the Barbies, guided by his owner was all he needed to feel somehow included (or that's what he always tried to convince himself).

Ken, with his limited knowledge regarding the real world, had concluded that the lack of what little attention he was receiving, was due to the fact that the little girl whose possession he was in, had now turned into a young lady. And having the Barbies as an example of how a lady is, he wasn't surprised that the girl had no use for him whatsoever.

Y/n wakes up in the morning, feeling groggy and disoriented. She wishes she could blame that on the environment change, but the truth is, last night she had a rather strange dream.

Y/n's pov:

She had reached her destination at about eight in the evening. After discussing some final details with her unexpectedly sweet landlady, she called her mom to inform her that she's alright and has settled in. Y/n had also managed to unpack most of her things, including her Ken doll that was laying on her desk when she changed into her matching pyjama set and got comfy in the warmth of her brand new, king sized bed.

After such a long day, y/n was equally drained both physically and mentally. The prospect of living alone, without the comfort of her parents' presence, was already enough to trouble her poor brain. On top of that, classes started tomorrow, leaving y/n no time to adjust to her new living conditions. And don't get me started on the actual unpacking and settling in process! All these heavy boxes, suitcases and IKEA furniture had gotten the best of y/n. Obviously, as soon as she found a comfortable position to sleep in, she immediately drifted off.

Y/n's sleep was disturbed by a shuffling sound, coming from the other side of the room. Normally, under any other circumstances, she would be terrified to spot the dark figure of a tall, strong looking man, staring at her in the middle of the night, after probably having broken into her apartment. However that was not the case. In her state of sleepiness and dizziness, her focus fading in and out of consciousness, her brain fuzzy and not entirely awake, y/n didn't feel any amount of fear but translated the image in front of her as part of a dream.

And what was this image in front of her, you may ask. Well, her previously unwanted Ken doll, was now at the feet of her bed, standing six foot tall, looking down at her with an adorably confused expression carved on his otherwise perfect features.

Ken's pov:

Ken was incredibly lucky that y/n thought she was dreaming, because not only didn't she scream at him to get the hell out, but she actually smiled at him. A small, uncertain and sleepy smile, no less a genuine smile. Even in his own state of confusion, Ken felt his insides melt at the sight of this small woman in front of him, smiling at him, actually noticing him.

He advanced closer to the head of the bed, so that he could take a better look at the girl who was sitting there. Ken sat at the edge of the bed and immediately recognised the person in question. She was clearly y/n. The girl who used to play with him and the Barbies was looking at him with intense interest and a glint in her y/e/c eyes that he had never seen before.

He took in her features. Ken had somehow expected to come face to face with a child, but obviously y/n was no longer a little girl but a beautiful woman. Sure, living in Barbieland Ken had learnt that all women were beautiful, however his old "owner" wasn't pretty in the sense a Barbie was pretty. Studying her features, Ken noticed y/n's hair wasn't neatly done like the Barbies', her skin dimpled and crised when she smiled, her teeth weren't the perfect shade of white or identical to one another, the apples of her cheeks were pinkish with sleep and her eyes held a warmth and complexity that made his stomach flutter. Ken was entranced by the simple image of this young lady, without any makeup or pretty clothes. He even felt like he had some kind of power over her, since she was so much smaller than him. He caught himself thinking that he could fit her whole face in the palm of his hand. The sudden urge to be the one to protect her and have the exclusivity of seeing her so unkempt and "naked" washed over him.

"Oh my!! You're actually Ken!", it was y/n that broke the silence, with her thrilled remark about the person who seemed lost in thought in front of her.

Ken was abruptly brought back to reality. How could something like this even happen? It should be practically impossible. One moment he was taking a nap at the beach and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair in a dark room he concluded belonged to y/n. He might not be the brightest guy (the Kens weren't supposed to be smarter than the Barbies anyway) but he realised something very wrong was happening. The dolls living in Barbieland weren't supposed to be able to come to the real world.

"Y/n! Hey! I never thought I'd meet you in person."

She simply giggled at that. Her giggle was spontaneous and made Ken blush, since he was so unfamiliar with women reacting to him in such a way. Her expression was so girly, almost shy, making Ken bolder than he felt. He climbed all the way onto the bed so that they were basically sitting next to each other.

Y/n felt her face growing warmer and not because of the sleepiness. "That's a very realistic dream", she thought to herself. But exactly because she had convinced herself that Ken was part of her imagination she was also about to act bolder than her usual self.

She turned her body so that she was facing him and not just sitting next to him. Y/n then extended an arm in order to brush away some stray hairs that had fallen in his face. That simple motion was enough to make Ken's heart beat as loud as a hammer and he believed y/n could actually hear it from where she was sitting, so close to him. To his utter surprise, she didn't retrieve her hand after making sure his (ridiculously soft) hair was back in place.

Maybe y/n would be intimidated by Ken's perfect posture and dreamy eyes, by his chiseled jawline and veiny hands or by the fact that his pupils were dilated more than was necessary for the dark around them (there were fairy lights all around the room) if she were to meet him face to face in real life. But y/n was in a dream (or so she thought). Her dream, her rules and she showed no sign of intimidation.

With the hand that had just brushed Ken's hair, she proceeded to cup his face, while caressing his perfectly carved cheek bone with the pad of her thumb. Ken closed his eyes at the sensation, since no one had ever showed him tenderness like that. His reaction to her touch only encouraged y/n to continue exploring this life sized Ken doll.

With nimble fingers that made Ken's breath hitch multiple times, she started caressing him, beginning with his collarbones and slowly making a trail over his toned chest to his lower abs. His skin was soft and warm to the touch and y/n's mind was quick to put together multiple ungodly thoughts.

Ken's hands had reached and grabbed the bedsheets as soon as y/n's teasing ones had started going over his abs, torturously slow. Of course he didn't know why he felt the way he did, she was just touching him (as a doll he never had been subjected to anything remotely sexual before this very moment), but he could feel a weird anticipation gathering at the pit of his stomach (and lower). Oddly enough, he didn't move, he didn't even speak, scared that he would destroy this peculiar situation he'd found himself in. He told himself that "You're a doll and this human girl is simply... playing with you?". It didn't sound right but it certainly felt good.

When she reached at his lower abdomen, just below his belly button, y/n drew her hands back. He had felt so real to the touch she started to question her previous belief that she was merely dreaming.

Ken saw her expression change from lustful (he didn't know that's what it was called), to a placated one. She searched his face for an answer, without realising how her doe eyes had captured every bit of Ken's attention.

"Y/n", he whispered under a shaky inhale, leaning towards her like a moth hypnotized by the flame.

"I'm sorry Ken, I really am."

"About what?!", he asked, generally confused.

"When I was little I-"

"Can I kiss you, please?" he knew that much. He had never given a real kiss back in Barbieland but at least he was familiar with the concept.

Y/n was lost for words. A sudden realization that this felt too real to be any short of wet dream had dawned on her (if that was the case she would have woken up by now). When she didn't answer right away, Ken turned his hot gaze on her parted lips. They were swollen from sleep and rozy but not in the manufactured way the Barbies' lips look in the morning. He had to fight back the urge to attack her mouth with his own, since he was still waiting for her consent.

Y/n finally gave the smallest nod, indicating shyness and reluctance, though her gaze was once again intense, making Ken's breath get caught in his throat.

He leaned in, gently but no less eagerly and was pleasantly surprised (not for the last time) when y/n, leaning towards him as well, connected their lips in a soft, slow and lingering kiss.

Y/n's hot breath on his mouth made Ken gasp and draw himself even closer to *his* girl, while his right hand, moving on its own, reached for her already messy hair, tagging at it softly.

Y/n was equally surprised by the kiss. Ken's lips were unbelievably soft and his body emitted a warmth that sent shivers down her spine. She rubbed her thighs together (a motion in which Ken was oblivious to for the time being) as she reached for his neck, taking the lead. She drew him even closer to her, their chests colliding. Ken gasped -again- at the sensation of her round breasts pressing against his mascular body and he reacted by snaking both arms around her narrow waist.

When y/n took Ken's bottom lip between her teeth, tagging at it softly, he let out the smallest moan. In return he drew back, only to smash his lips on her own once more, with a passion and an urgency that made y/n weak in his strong arms. Her tongue asked for access he happily gave and he found himself backing his hips against her as their tongues swirled around one another for the first time.

When they parted, they were both breathless and panting heavily. Ken looked at y/n with an adoration that made her short circuit. He had never felt that important to anyone, but the tight grip she had on his biceps was proof that she wanted him. Really wanted him, needed him, even. Ken was important to her, at least at that moment.

This blissful state of his was short lived, due to y/n standing up and turning on the big light on the ceiling.

After taking a moment so that his vision could readjust to the light, Ken's eyes found y/n again. She was standing now and he took a mental note to never forget how tiny and young, how vulnerable she looked in her gray pyjama set with her tousled hair all over, like a miniature lioness. To be honest, Ken didn't have the right words to describe what he was seeing, but the warmth in his chest (and an unexplainable discomfort in his breeches) was enough for him.

"Oh shit-

Oh my gosh....I wasn't dreaming, was I?"

Y/n looked shocked and Ken grew hot with embarrassment because of it.

"I'm just as confused as you are, y/n", at least he was able to say something. Because now the light was on, he could see her feminine figure and wanted nothing more than to squish her round thighs and then-

"I mean... you're actually Ken...like... HOW?!"

"Please don't be angry at me, I can't explain how or why, but instead of waking up in Barbieland I woke up here", he said with an apologetic look on his face, while standing up like a child that just got scolded.

Y/n took a deep breath in, deciding he was too damn hot to actually be angry at him. It also wasn't his fault and at the end of the day she liked the idea of having a "boytoy" so eager and sweet. She really hadn't done Ken justice as a child but thought she could pay him back now.

You see, y/n's father is working for Mattel and she knows some things the average person doesn't. For one thing, she's aware that Barbieland exists and that on some very rare occasions the dolls come to the real world.

"It's alright Ken. I know it's not your fault"

Hearing her voice was not only soothing to him, but his name on her mouth made him lightheaded.

"but you have to get back. I don't know what it could mean to my world that you're here."

At the sound of that final statement, Ken visibly frowned and felt a weight settling in his chest. He had just come to this world and on top of that he and y/n had shared enough kisses to be considered boyfriend and girlfriend according to Barbieland standards.

He reminded himself, as always, he's just Ken. He's always second, even if for a moment he felt like a ten, lost in y/n's tender but also hot touch.

"I understand, y/n. I'll leave then and get back to Barbieland", not that he knew how.

She too felt she didn't want him to leave just yet, the tension was so thick she could almost see it all around them. Nevertheless, it was past midnight and she had three morning classes tomorrow, so she let Ken go without uttering another word.

To say the least, Ken was heartbroken. In one night he had experienced so many new sensations and emotions and he knew he wouldn't be able to get y/n out of his head no matter how hard he'd try. He ended up dozing off while sitting on her doorstep, looking at the stars and imagining y/n's small hands caressing him lower and lower until...

notes~~

UPDATE!! THIS STORY HAS BEEN FINISHED, LOOK AT MY MASTERLIST FOR THE FOLLOWING PARTS!

Dividers by; @cafekitsune

Hello beautiful people! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of my Ken smut fic :) It's meant to be just spice but I wanted to add some context too. This is also my first time posting anything on Tumblr!

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aemvnd · 20 days

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𝒶.skywalker. ┆ belonging.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ first time writing for anakin in a min …n yes it's a modern au . <3 be kind, pls. !!!

anakin skywalker is a naturally dominant man, and we all know that, but, when you're sitting in his lap, like just now, all pretty and your glossy lips all pouty and kissable, doe-like eyes all innocent and dreamy, anakin cannot help but want to have you, to possess you, to own you in every way possible—completely.

he craves you, desperately, day and night, every second of every waking moment, and his dreams, they're so vivid—they're of you, because of course they are, and you're so beautiful, so perfect, the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, or will ever know.

anakin knows he must have you, giving the sweet-smelling skin of your pulse point a soft, tender kiss, knowing you're a sensitive little thing, but he doesn't care, doesn't care that you whine and playfully swat at his thick, muscular arm, and he just wants you to understand, to understand that you belong to him—that you've always belonged to him.

"anakin," you mewl girlishly, so soft and sweet and naïvely beautifully, he cannot stand it, and he gives you a small, lazy smirk, his blue eyes sparkling as they slightly gaze down at you, watching you, watching your expressions as he wraps his strong, masculine arms around your waist, tugging you closer against himself on his lap, wanting to see how you'd react.

anakin loves your little reactions, always so shy and sweet, it makes him smile, how bashful you become around him, how you try to act as if your little cunt isn't quivering at just the mere sight of him, knowing your panties were already soaked with your sweetness, just waiting for him to lick you clean, happily and eagerly.

and anakin is more than happy to help you, to help relieve you, to relieve that ache you feel, and he wonders if you ever touched your sweet little pussy—good girl that you're, he doubts it, but he wouldn't know, you don't like talking about such 'naughty things' as you like to say, always too bashful around him to speak such lewd words aloud.

anakin has no such qualms, he enjoys discussing how he wishes to devour your sweet little pussy, to fuck you until you're numb and too dumb to speak, your limbs weak and needing his help to do basic things, like bring you snacks or bathe you—he'd do anything for you if you'd only ask, and even more.

"what's wrong, baby?" anakin croons lovingly, raising a large, tan-skinned hand and gently curling two long, calloused fingers under your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him, making your belly flutter with a swarm of butterflies—and anakin cannot help but smile wolfishly, chuckling softly as he can feel the way your body trembles in his lap, needy and wanting, and if you'd only ask, he'd give you what you so desperately crave, what you need.

all you need to do is ask, and anakin skywalker is more than willing to provide that relief for you, in any way you desire—he is yours, yours to command, just as you belong to him.

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 23 days

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jolene

james potter x reader

this is not a good fic for james.. (love him tho) and my remus bias is SHOWING. i love lily. no lily hate.

jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene i'm begging of you please don't take my man jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene please don't take him just because you can

a small part of you knew that, although you were the one dating james potter, lily evans still held a place in his heart. i mean it was sad right? someone you were in love with, someone you were dating, was in love with someone else. but for some reason you had grown accustomed to it, was this stupid of you? yes, maybe. but you didn't want to lose james, as both a boyfriend and a friend. so it felt like a logical thing.

you knew lily evans didn't like james either, not even as a friend. she hated the boy. you thought back to the gossip you had had with her, marlene and dorcas when they found out you were dating him.

"merlin y/n, james?" lily had whispered-shouted the very night she found out that you were dating him.

"hey.. he's not that bad." you chuckle.

"that's not gonna convince her, it's a well known fact lils hates james." marlene laughs.

"that's true." you respond.

"and i thought you liked remus anyway." lily teases.

"that was in like 3rd year, i've been over that ages." you feel your face heat. sure you had liked moony once, but you had liked james for a while now.

"he's better than james though, seriously you can do better y/n." lily tells you.

you giggle, but then see dorcas with a confused look on her face.

"you alright dorcas?" marlene raises an eyebrow.

"yeah i just.. i have a question." dorcas speaks up.

you nod at her to speak.

"when did james get over lily? i'm not saying he doesn't like you of course y/n, but up until the other week, he was obsessed with her." dorcas thinks aloud, in all fairness, asking the question on everyones lips.

you sigh.

"i asked him that, he told me he was trying to deflect the fact that he really liked me, and he was too nervous to flirt with me so flirted with lily instead to hide his true feelings." you mutter, now realising that james' reasoning was.. maybe not the best.

"aww thats cute y/n.." marlene sees the look on your face and tries to comfort you.

"yeah." you smile, weakly.

"and don't worry y/n, i would never go anywhere near potter. and i think he does like you and not me." lily reassures you.

noticing your discomfort, the girls changed the subject, but you couldn't nudge the feeling of doubt in your chest. now that you thought about it, james' reasoning felt a bit.. excuse like? but no, he asked you out, not lily. so he must like you?! relationships were complicating; you guessed you'd have to wait to see how things played out.

your beauty is beyond compare with flaming locks of auburn hair with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green

"hello gorgeous." james grins at you cheekily, planting a kiss on your cheek as you take a seat next to him at the gryffindor table.

"guys do we really need to be doing this at eight o'clock in the morning." sirius fake gags. you stick your tongue out at him in response, causing him to laugh.

"just cos you're lonely padfoot." james chuckles.

sirius playfully rolls his eyes at him, and you see remus looking at you from the other side of the table. you smile at him which he returns but looks away quickly, feeling like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

james wraps an arm around your waist, and starts telling you whatever new prank him and sirius were planning on snape.

"and then we were planning to turn his hair green." he smiles at you.

"poor snape." you tease.

"what? you planning on leaving me for snivellus?" james raises an eyebrow, playfully.

"of course." you respond chuckling.

your playful banter was interrupted by lily approaching you, carrying your transfiguration book. of course, you invited her to sit with yourself and the marauders but she didn't like to be near james for long periods of time.

"y/n, you left this in our dorm this morning." she smiles at you and hands you the book.

you smile back. she looked extra pretty today, her green eyes sparkling, her auburn hair shiny. it made you feel a little self-conscious.

"thanks lils, what would i do without you?" you laugh.

"you wouldn't be able to cope, that's for sure." lily smiles at you, giving you a wave, heading back to her own seaat.

"thank godric for that, mcgonagall would've been fuming-" you turn back to james, your words faltering seeing his face.

his face was bright red and he looked distracted as he gazed off into the distance. you followed his gaze to see what was wrong with him. then you realised. james was looking at lily. and he had a stupid goofy smile on his face. what a prick! he was YOUR boyfriend.

"james, are you okay?" you snap him out of his daze.

"yeah yeah, perfectly fine love." he turns back to you, his blush fading.

then it was as if everything was back to normal. sirius, james and peter engaging back into their normal conversation. you were quieter however. remus remained quiet as well, noticing the dejected look on your face. he gave you a comforting smile across the table and you gave him a weak one in return.

at that moment, you wished nothing more to be lily evans.

your smile is like a breath of spring your voice is soft like summer rain and i cannot compete with you jolene.

"i don't want to feel like a second choice to you james! i love you." you sighed. this was yours and james's first argument. and you HATED it.

"i love you too y/n, of course you're not my second choice!" james tries to comfort you.

"i just feel like you're just settling for me because lily doesn't like you!" you admitted.

"well that's not true y/n, i told you.. i was using lily to coverup my feelings for you." james lets out a exasperated sigh.

"sometimes it doesn't feel that way james, i don't want to be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her (iykyk)" you rub your forehead with your hand.

"y/n.." james puts his arm around you. "it's you i'm dating.. not evans. don't be jealous!"

you scoff. "of course i'm jealous, she's beautiful and you were obsessed with her long before dating me."

"and i'm not anymore. just drop it y/n. i love you not her." james frowns.

you sigh and cave in.

"i don't like arguing with you james." you say, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

"i don't like arguing with you either y/n" he sighs, and pulls you closer.

you couldn't stop thinking about lily though. you were friends with her, and she would never intentionally hurt you. you knew deep down james still liked her, feelings don't go away that easy.

he talks about you in his sleep and there's nothing i can do to keep from crying when he calls your name jolene

gryffindor house were infamous for throwing the best parties. and tonight was living proof. gryffindor had just won a quidditch match against slytherin which of course meant a big celebration. and of course, your boyfriend and captain of the team james potter was the main centre of attention.

"he's nuts." you shake your head at sirius, when you see james dancing and obnoxiously singing to dancing queen by abba in the middle of the common room.

"he's bloody brilliant." sirius takes a sip of firewhiskey, chuckling.

the man in question headed towards you.

"y/n, would you care to join me." he jokingly bows down, holding his hand out for you to take.

"indeed i would." you giggle and take his hand.

he pulls you to the middle of the common room, twirling you around/ you laugh and join in singing and dancing. you could tell he was a little drunk but you didn't mind.

as the party went on, you had somehow lost contact with james. he was a social butterfly of course, probably talking to his friends. you yourself were stood with marlene, dorcas and lily, sipping your drinks, giggling at the antics of some of your housemates.

the party eventually thinned out, at about 3 in the morning, when mcgonagall told them to quiet down. eventually it was just you and as you looked towards the jukebox (which was playing jolene by dolly parton) remus carrying a half unconscious james.

you walked up to the two.

"he's drunk too much." remus chuckles.

"unsurprising, i'm sure he had already had about 4 firewhiskeys in the first hours." you smile affectionately at james.

remus notices your smile, and smiles wider.

"you don't usually come to parties, do you remus?" your question catches remus off guard.

"n-no i don't. just wanted to support my friends." he responds, knowing that was probably a good answer judging by the smile on your face.

you turn back to look at james.

"let's get you to bed ay?" you say, trying to wake him.

"l-lily?" james whispers, seemingly in his sleep.

your heart dropped. of course he was dreaming about lily.

"i'm not lily." you grit your teeth. "would you rather have her take care of you?"

remus sees your face and is quick to comfort you.

"don't worry y/n, he's drunk, he probably doesn't know any better." he says.

you nod and sit down on one of the armchairs.

how could you ever compete with lily evans?

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #angst #x reader #fanfic #remus lupin #sirius black #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n

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faerievampling · 4 months

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The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort

Summary: These are my random head canons about Ascended Astarion and his vampiric bride, Tav/Durge. What would it be like to actually spend eternity with him?

Warning: 18+, mention of sex.

After the ascension, Astarion is so overwhelmed with all his new abilities that he is a bit distant. (Think Lazslo Cravensworth in that one episode of WWDITS where he barely speaks for two weeks all because he’s trying to make a decision about how he is going to reorganize the library) This lasts for nearly a decade, but once Astarion adjusts to his new body, he is able to come back to himself.

Once you are Astarion’s spawn (bride), he no longer needs to mask when lovemaking. He knows you will never leave him. Your lovemaking goes through many 'phases', from being loving and tender to beastly and rough. But either way, he is raw with you, and only you.

Every night, without fail, your vampire curls up in your arms, holding you tightly as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep or reverie. He can’t fall asleep without being in your arms, or vice versa.

You, his most prized treasure, are far too vulnerable during your rest, and he insists on being as close to you as possible, with a dagger close by, of course. Over the years, he never relents. If you two are ever apart, which happens so rarely, maybe once a millenia, he spends the night sleepless and aching for you.

One of the first things he does once the tadpole is gone is hunt down Haarlep, if you made a deal with him. He wouldn’t allow his treasure to be violated and used any longer.

Astarion’s possessive love for you only grows as the years creep on.

Sometime during your third century of marriage, Astarion stabs the eyes out of (and allegedly kills) dozens of men and women who he deigned to have violated you (and thus, disrespected him) by looking at you lustfully. It takes two decades of you begging him to stop before he finally relents.

Ask me anything, and it will be yours. On his own time, of course, which you have so much of. You become a very patient vampire.

Astarion certainly values your life and his, but not others. You have to remind him, lest he lose his humanity completely. And you, as well, have to make sure you have a tight hold on your own humanity. You are a vampire, after all.

Watching your friends pass one by one is difficult, and Astarion supports you through it all, despite him not particularly caring about them himself. He cares about his consort, and he does everything to make you comfortable while you grieve. This is where your humanity starts to slip, when your friends are gone from your life for many years.

If you are able to reverie, you aren’t able to actually look through your memories because of your undeath. The years stretch on so long, you nearly forget how the story began at all. But you always have Astarion, and he does his best to help you both remember.

Astarion never takes another consort or another independent lover. The two of you enjoy threesomes and orgies occasionally, but Astarion prefers it to be just you and him. Astarion did particularly like to watch you get fucked by other men and women. But this changes sometime during your first century of marriage. Astarion demands to have his consort and only his consort in the bedroom. He ultimately doesn’t trust anyone else to be intimate with him. He doesn't want anyone else to touch him. You don’t protest the decision.

Astarion creates regular vampire spawn, more for utility than anything else. He always asks your permission.

After a thousand years, you and your Lord are inseparable. You are not to leave his sight.

He is very powerful, and has become a threat and a target. The two of you rarely speak aloud anymore as your mind connection is so strong that your minds are melded together. Your relationship is beyond spoken word. As Bride and Master, you are unsure where you begin and he ends.

Eternity is a very long time. Astarion agrees, but he never wants to die, and he certainly will never let you go.

In your old vampiric age, the two of you strike fear into every mortal you come across. You can't help it. You are both so hauntingly beautiful and pale, and your intense mind connection makes most mortals believe you to be...absent. Oh, how the sheep forget themselves.

Yet your need for blood is so small now. They needn't fear you, not really. You now only drink from Astarion, which gives you what you need. He loves it, being your life essence.

He doesn't let you drink too much, of course. During your fifth century of marriage, Astarion wants you to feed on him and only on him, as his contempt for others grows and his possessive love for you begins to cause him his own bout of madness.

This causes you to go mad, and Astarion is entirely distraught until you are healed. He spends an extravagant amount of money and a long time healing you.

With the last of your friends dead, you forget to view the mortals as anything but the puppets of your Master. The ways of the world as you knew it slip by you. There is a war, Astarion tells you, but you have no fear. You know he will protect you.

You often go into a vampiric hibernation as you sit on your throne during court. Astarion is still able to put on the mask, but you cannot. Astarion wishes you would try harder, but he also understands.

Even after so many years, Astarion’s body craves you. You are certain you are addicted to each other. You wonder if it is a result of your vampiric marriage.

He pleasures you every night, and you pleasure him; you cannot remember what sex was like before your undeath, but you know that nothing feels as good as when Astarion makes you come.

Halsin is the last of your old friends that you can remember, as he lives to be nearly a thousand. You do your best to remember his face, but it slowly starts to slip away from you.

You feel sad about these things, at times. Astarion cradles you, both your body and your mind, and tries to assure you of your gift. Eternity.

Part 2!!

Masterlist

#ascended astarion #Astarion headcanons #my hcs #spawn tav #Astarion bg3 #Lord Astarion #Ascendant Astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #ascended!astarion

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lazyjellyfish300 · 1 month

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Silent

Miguel O'Hara x Wife reader

A/N: I attempted a smutty drabble. (Technically it's not a drabble but it's short ish) Word count 719 ish 🖤 Personally, vocal Miguel in bed>>>.

But what if he isn't🤔

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT(CREAMPIE, P IN V, ORAL M RECEIVING, BREEDING KINK), Miguel is overstimulated after work and prefers to not talk.

What about Miguel O'Hara who's mostly silent during sex? He's a quiet man at his core. He can command a room when he needs to; his leadership depends on it. He's thoughtful before he speaks. He always just felt it only necessary to talk if what he had to say carried meaning, and only if he had ample time to form his words and craft them properly before he said them aloud. He values substance and he hates being misunderstood.

Despite his ability to lead and direct, he has a limited social battery. By the time he's alone with you after a long day, he prefers silence as his mind recharges with minimal to no touch. Not that he doesn't value your presence. It took you some time to understand this, but just because he wasn't all over you right away doesn't mean he doesn't love you.

When he does come around, that precious space of vulnerability you've built with him over time becomes a safe haven you two can escape to together.

When your head is in his lap, moaning softly for him with your mouth full of his cock.

It took you a while to become fluent, but despite the lack of words and sounds coming from him, he IS communicating with you. The way he presses his head back against the pillow then swiftly brings it back to hold your gaze, eyes a deep merlot set ablaze by the intoxicating way you're spoiling his cock as he gently rocks his hips, giving your needy mouth what it's begging for.

When he's on top of you in missionary, you can just tell he's close to spilling all of his hot love inside you when his eyes go half-lidded, those thick brows of his frown as though he's trying to commit everything about this moment and the flawless way he fits inside you to undying memory.

He melts at the praise you give him, lashes fluttering when you play with his lips, slipping the plush pad of your fingers in his mouth.

"My pretty boy...so perfect..."

The inside of his mouth is so slick. You knead the inside of his cheek with your thumb as he begins to swirl his tongue around it, your pussy getting wetter around his cock in tandem with the way he's bathing your finger with his warm tongue.

"So soft..." you moan.

A low hum rumbles from his chest as he gazes down at your divineness. Somehow this night was only getting started but your body was responding like you'd been fucked out for hours.

He brings his hands to your breasts, drawing lazy circles with his thumbs on the perky buds as he continues to pump you full of his cock.

He's still quiet but he pants, eager to give his darling wife all the dirty loving she's been craving. Giving you this body that you won't admit you've been aching for. Making it up to you for the nights you ended by yourself.

Your knuckles nearly shake as you tighten your grip on his hair, the way he's starting to softly grunt is awaking the most primal, the most carnal of desires in your brain.

His warm sweet breath on your cheeks, the little sounds he is finally giving you have traces of the low baritone of his normal speaking voice. Deliciously masculine. The fleeting drip of raw honey massages your ears, wettening around him even more when you realize you're the cause.

His hands coast downwards and wrap around your hips, those calloused palms gripping them like his life depends on it as he breeds your wet cunt to its fullest, mouth hanging alluringly open as he leans forward to kiss you. Gently pulsing his softening cock with a few more thrusts to make sure it takes. Beads of his sweat from his forehead transferring onto your own. The smell of sex penetrates the air around your naked bodies, so painfully intimate and raw.

No, you don't mind if your husband is a little quiet. The whispery "te quiero..." he mumbles back to you into the crook of your neck tucks your heart into a drowsy rhythm next to his, making it all worth it as the moonlight outside cradles you both to much needed sleep.

🌜

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #spotify #Spotify #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader

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vidavalor · 21 days

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Crowley and Plosives

@kimberleyjean asked in my recent post on rings and apostrophes why it is that I think Crowley pops the consonants of words at times, as in "BooK. shoP", and if there is a technical term for what he is doing. There is.

Let's talk about Crowley's exaggerated plosive sounds--as well as his little "mmm" thing-- and what this all probably has to do with his hiss.

In order to talk about why it likely is that Crowley pops specific consonants when he speaks-- with it being more pronounced at certain times than at other times-- we first actually have to talk about his hiss.

Crowley's hiss is less of a separate sound and more of a slur of what's known as a sibilant sound in phonology-- it's the sound of the letter s or the letters sh. If you say the word "sash" aloud, you're using sibilant sounds twice over-- once at the start and once at the end of the word. While Crowley could probably just hiss like a snake when he's in human form, we never actually hear him do that. We hear a hissing sound manifest in his sibilant sound when he is speaking-- which is to say when he's being a human over a snake. The same is true of Lord Beezlebub, whose fly buzz sound affects their speech. In their case, their sibilant sounds turn into the letter z to mimic a fly (as in, "It izzzzz written" on the tarmac in Tadfield in S1).

Sibilant sounds are part of a group of sounds known as fricatives, which are all softer in sound. They are grouped together based on how your mouth and throat move in forming the sounds and how much air is needed to move through them and in what way to say them. The letters k, p, t-- and sometimes d, b and g, depending on the word and the position of the letter in the word-- are "hard" sounds and are known as plosives. These are the sounds that Crowley tends to pop or to which he gives exaggerated emphasis in his speech. My theory as to why is basically that David Tennant decided that Crowley would feel the hiss is weak and react to it by popping his plosives to seem more intimidating, which really does go along with Crowley's psychology well.

Crowley's hiss is a feature of what of him is a snake and, as a result, will show up in the times that a snake would hiss. That means the slurred sibilant sounds show up primarily in situations in which he feels a sense of vulnerability. Snakes hiss when they're stressed or under duress and they hiss if you try to interact with them while they are digesting a big meal. In demon snake terms lol, it means Crowley is most likely to hiss in exactly the moment he does not want to (when he's anxious or afraid, which is usually when around other demons or angels). He probably cares a bit less about slurring sibilant sounds around Aziraphale after a big meal--or a "big meal"-- and Aziraphale actually probably likes it a bit as it's his life goal to keep that snake blissssssed out but the hissing around other people thing?

Crowley hates it. He haaaaaaates it. There is evidence of Crowley hating the slurred sibilants in a few scenes.

One is that when he shapeshifts into a monstrous snake to scare the guy at Tadfield Manor in S1, Crowley doesn't hiss at him-- he roars. Like a lion. (Lions are also on the arms and legs of his reason-for-therapy-alone throne chair in S1.) And this is his reaction when he makes the guy faint from fright:

He loves it. Ah, control...

Because Crowley is a lot of things, really-- he's a snake, yeah, but he's a big cat, he's a crow, he's a nightingale, he's a black swan, he's a horse... we could go on. To control the hiss when he wants to is to feel in control of himself.

We all know how much Crowley seeks as maximum control over how he's perceived by others as he's capable of generating. It's a normal response to all the trauma he's suffered. It's probably worth considering as well that Satan's attacks on Crowley render him incapable of controlling his own mind and body for the duration of the assault. He doesn't have the option to speak or, if he does, the words aren't his own. These are bodily autonomy violation issues and the result is that Crowley hates anything that makes him feel weak and the fact that he has in the hiss what amounts to a nervous tic that is a symptom of his anxiety disorder makes him feel out of control of himself.

Another example of him hating the hiss is when he intentionally slurs the sibilant s sound while mocking Heaven:

Crowley is not just talking about composers in this scene in general but using first-class composers as innuendo for sexual partners and mocking Aziraphale's potential choices if he gets stuck in Heaven for all of eternity. He does so by combining soft fricatives and his slurred sibilant hiss, showing how he equates the hiss with a sense of what he considers weak and unattractive.

The other scene that suggests this-- and shows how Crowley pops his plosives as a counter to the hiss-- is actually the end of the apology dance, when Crowley pops a t so hard, it's almost its own word: "You were righTTTTTT."

The apology dance scene and its hard T as the final note of the mock-submissive dance also makes it clear that, unsurprisingly, Aziraphale knows what the popped plosives are all about. Plosives are, well, explosive. They have harder, louder, more dramatic sounds. It seems like Crowley pops them both as a measure to counter his hiss and as a measure to try to control it. He's taught himself to respond verbally with intensive plosive popping instead of hissing, which is also why we don't actually hear him hiss all that often.

One of the only times is almost immediately after this:

Because saints and demons preserve us, it's Master Crowley, right? But then Satanic Nun!Nina interrupts them and Crowley starts slurring his sibilant sounds in sarcastic response to Aziraphale telling him that he didn't need to put the woman in a trance.

"Oh, oh, 'xcccussse me, ma'am, we're two supernatural entities looking for the notorioussss SSSSSon of SSSSSatan. Wonder if you might help us with our inquiries?'" How he controls the sentence, though, is really interesting. The extra-exaggerated sarcasm of the last sentence helps him regain control enough that the final 's' in 'inquiries' isn't hissed and he's back in control of it. He's also almost amping up the sibilant sounds he does slur sarcastically as well. Part of why it comes out here is that he allows himself to be less guarded with his speech in front of Aziraphale.

We've actually only heard him hiss his sibilant sounds about three times, if memory serves me correctly, and two of them are related to Heaven and Hell-- the two moments I mentioned above. They're examples of him trying to control-- and then sarcastically wield-- the hiss. (Particularly "celestial harmonies", which he did entirely intentionally.)

There's also one more positive instance of a sibilant slur though and that's this: "Yessssss, the 'Reign of Terror.'"

The long hiss of a "yesssss" in this scene is not one that bothers him because drawing out a sibilant sound during a sexy conversation with Aziraphale is a very different situation than one about or involving Heaven or Hell.

If you look back on the series, there are probably no more popped plosives than in Crowley trying to ascertain just wtf Gabriel is doing in the bookshop wearing nothing but their tartan bedsheet.

"WHaT. Arrre. You. DO. ING. In. THis. BooK. ShhhOP?" 😂

Crowley was literally terrified (and also losing it internally because he just jumped and basically screamed at the sight of Gabriel) and there's a very brief "shhhh" in "bookshop" that starts to slur and has him practically shouting the "OP" to finish the word without full-on hissing. It's a scene built around the plosives, really.

Gabriel probably understands Crowley's manner of speaking more than "Jim" did in this moment as Gabriel has his own affected way of speaking. His defensive speech has the same need for a sense of maintaining an appearance of control and dominance but is usually less about emphasizing plosives and more about conveying a sense of power through a perceived sense of "manliness" in a smug, corporate sort of way. The way he says "but as The Almighty likes to say: 'Climb Every Mountain'" in that 'CEO saying the bullshit company slogan to a junior employee at the company retreat' sort of way.

Gabriel usually uses intimidation through lower, more frighteningly measured tones that carry the sense that if you pissed him off, he would explode and it would not be pretty for you. It's what makes the moment when he does actually a bit shocking and that's when you hear the force come out in his speech a bit.

He pops plosives in the curse and owns the 'fucking' in that sentence as a result. That is top shelf use of a curse word, in that it's selective enough and pronounced in such a way as to give it real power. You know he's going to lose this round because he can't win it but you're still kind of afraid of him-- maybe for the first time.

But Jim? Jim has none of this.

Jim is a guileless lovebug who doesn't understand why Crowley would feel the need to speak-shout at him and pause dramatically so his "I. AM. DUSTING." response is priceless. Jim over-emphasizes all of the sounds because he doesn't know why Crowley only emphasizes the plosives and he pauses dramatically between the words more out of confused repetition of Crowley's speech pattern to try to relate to Crowley than out of understanding that it was meant to intimidate him. He uses the same sense of theatre that Crowley uses without any context as to why Crowley feels like he has to and, as a result, it guts Crowley's whole attempt to intimidate him to compensate for his own feelings of vulnerability.

Crowley and Aziraphale both are fascinated by words and the evolution of language and they speak every language in the world. This means that they both have the ability, in theory, to correctly speak in any accent in the world, which is necessary to be able to pronounce the words in every language. Between that and his self-conscious, trauma-adjacent, plosive/fricative issues, as well as just being interested in how things like pronunciation informs the evolution of language, Crowley is more aware than most of how he sounds when he speaks.

But there's also that his unique way of speaking-- when combined with his low, rumbly voice-- can be very sexy and he's aware of it, namely because it's clear that Aziraphale thinks his sounds-- all his sounds, along the full spectrum of them-- are hot. As a result, we also have scenes in the series wherein Crowley will sometimes heavily emphasize plosives-- and fricatives-- around Aziraphale just for fun because to do so has become a part of how he speaks and because the angel likes it. An example: the "lotsss of GooD DeeDsssss" bit of this:

That Aziraphale likes the full range of Crowley sounds is symbolic of the fact that Aziraphale likes the full range of Crowley, full stop. As a result, Crowley plays around with how he enunciates words, often drawing out parts of them in ways he knows Aziraphale will enjoy. His "oo" and "ou" sounds are often elongated into an "oooh"; he softens fricatives to a breath at times when speaking more gently. At other times, he amps up his RP accent and emphasizes certain words in a sentence with pauses and heavier enunciation ("canopy", "astonish") to maximize their appeal and to draw Aziraphale's attention to them, usually also for wordplay-related reasons ("did you smite them with your wrath?" in Lockdown, for example.)

Then, there is that part of their language thing also appears to be an interest in onomatopoeia, which are words that have derived in language not from a connection to other, previously-existing words but from the sounds of Earth. Crowley, in particular, loves onomatopoeia, and likes to weave words that are that into his conversation-- "frou frou", "whoop", etc.. The word "hiss" is onomatopoeia. Unlike other etymology posts I have written or will write, there is no "derived from the Old French x" or "from the Latin x" or the like for the history of "hiss"-- it's just literally that people heard a snake hissing and said that sounds like "hssss" and so we're going to call it a "hiss."

While Crowley has issues with his anxious snake hiss, though, he actively likes to make the pleasurable sound the humans (and angels and demons) can make-- the ultimate in onomatopoeia. The word that is actually more his anti-hiss than his popped plosives:

"Mmm."

"Mmm" is derived from nothing more than the human sound of contentment. It's an often almost involuntarily hum of pleasure-- the human sound of satiation. There is no other history to the word but that and there has not been since beings began to exist.

Crowley makes the sound unconsciously but he also makes it consciously at times when speaking with Aziraphale because he knows Aziraphale likes the sound of it. Case in point: the very obviously intentional "mmm" in the Edinburgh phone call (and the heavy, exaggerated plosives emphasis on what followed it):

"Mmm" is also something of an etymology joke as well because, at last count, I think I had at least twenty-five instances in a note file here about intentional wordplay between Crowley and Aziraphale that focuses on frequently confused words and phrases (to founder vs. to flounder; whoop vs. whoomp; wittering vs. withering; to get a wriggle on vs. to get a wiggle on, etc..) which I bring up mainly because, especially when written, "mmm" is frequently confused with "hmm", and the etymology of "hmm" is pretty funny from a Good Omens perspective.

While "mmm" is a sound of pleasure, "hmm" is a sound made of consideration, a kind of pause in a sentence to acknowledge something that was spoken and to either suggest you're giving it thought or to show hesitation over what was said-- or, possibly, both. While "mmm" is a contented sound derived from the human body, "hmm" is onomatopoeia because it is imitative of a different, very specific sound in nature...

...it comes from the droning sound of buzzing bees.

To Crowley and Aziraphale, "hmm"-- the sound of hesitation and reflective contemplation-- is a sound of the insects that are symbolically the angels and that's amusing to them since the humans frequently swap it out with their signature sound of pleasure while Crowley and Aziraphale do not find much about Heaven very arousing.

Crowley's new favorite hobby in S2 is making dirty jokes that are going over Muriel's head-- some of which, like his handcuff innuendo while getting Muriel to take him to (literal) Heaven, are a bit on the surface. Others, though, like the frequently confused words wordplay of using "mmm" in protest of Heaven instead of "hmm" in the "mmm, bees" moment after successfully getting one over on the angels-- are examples of just wordplay jokes that Aziraphale would have found funny that Crowley was amusing himself with in the moment.

Crowley is definitely not the only one of the two of them amping up those mmms though. The only bee who has his attention is playing right back...

...and the mmm thing is not exactly new, either...

...like for him to mmm his way through an entire barbecued ox five minutes after this...

Original post that prompted this response:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #aziracrow #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

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