#If spot of inconsistancy just tell me

[spork-supremacy]

so what if I per se wanted to make another long fic. What If I per se wanted it to have each chapter be inspired and borderline following events from Epic:the musical but it’s Jay’s off screen journey in DR. I’ll outline it saga by saga to demonstrate my idea.

Also no same time frames won’t apply because mentally I could not handle Jay being away from everyone for twenty years. Let alone write that myself. I’m weak and want him living a very full rest of his life.

and pretty much some characters don’t have perfect parallels so they’re very interchangeable.

this is long.

Troy saga- I’m thinking this mostly could have chapters/songs 1-4 be on a field mission Jay is sent to command by the administration. Maybe around or in imperium because they were trying to gain intelligence on the “unethical energy source”.

Also Jay keeps his yin pendant and knows that he’s either married or engaged. He has no clue who but he’s given her a name in his head. For reference sake Penelope.

the issue is my dude has no child. So there is no chance he should mention having one.

Unless he got vaguely stuck with one post memory wipe. Maybe a literal infant at first, but would roughly now be 3-5 by the events of S1. He is left in the administration.

Or we go Nya pregnancy before the merge route, but she found out a week before the merge. They made little cards to tell everyone and he kept it in his wallet that also had his ID. So he knows he has a child, but he has no idea where that is.

because Telemachus doesn't actually know who his father is and I would like to keep that so I can keep the vibe. Acidentally created a need for a child oc, shit.

warriors of the mind would be hard to translate but I could just treat it like a dream sequence. Probably Nya or smth. Maybe she is a figure he thinks he makes up in his head who only appears when he sleeps and he befriends.

he just assumes he’s crazy because realm of madness and all.

cyclops saga- could easily be that second half of that mission where they do find something willing to wipe out his people. However at the end there is this thing where Odysseus is cursed by the cyclops and Poseidon follows him every where. Now because no character is going to be consistent parallels, what if the cyclops was just Ras’s master in hiding for reasons. And also I guess the Poseidon stand in would mostly also be Ras. And one out of three Zeus appearances.

No, I like it so I’m keeping it.

and my good bye could be some dream sequence after he makes it home to his office. It’s of the Nya figure being a manifestation of his own disappointment and is like “okay I’m out”

months have now passed. Maybe a year.

storm saga- Easily could be the entire way back to the realm of madness on the mysterium mission after his appearance in season 2 pt1. People lost their portal devices that day. They make a stop at the cloud kingdom for a deal to ensure safe passage home because writers of fate and such and they give him a thingy/ Euphrasia?. Wind bag. Master of wind. Eh?

Then boom Ras. Shows up like “you hurt my master now I have to kill you.”

people die once more.

Circe saga- I feel that most of it could work out like actually story. Get on island, save men from magic, Hermes is replaced by a helpful messanger dragon of sorts, figure out a way home. Bonus points the witch try’s to prove that all men suck by trying to seduce Jay and he’s just like. “But my hypothetical probably real wife...” That he can barely remember.

point is they’re directed to the remains of the cursed realm or departed realm.

underworld saga- they go to underworld. See parts of their squad. The dead ones. (Bonus points for fitting in an elpeanor moment). Now, tree’s a whole thing with Odysseus seeing his mother. I don’t know if I want it to be that way. Granted grief killing Edna, who was already old, could punch a lot considering he doesn’t even remember her, just vaguely recognises the voice of his mother. Anyway the go see a prophet like. “You can go home this way. And yes you do have a wife/fiancé. However I see her with a very creepy dude.”

yes it’s in the same way as the play.

also the chorus just works so well.

“I see a song of past romance, I see the sacrifice of man, I see tales of betrayals and a brother’s final stand. I see beyond the brink of death, I see you draw your final breath. I see a man who gets to make it home alive. And it’s no longer you.”

Anyway guess who decides to embrace his inner monster.

-thunder saga

Once more very simple one. Go through danger the same way, shit Ras. Thunder bringer is the point where Jay switches sides.

-wisdom saga

this one I have trouble with solely for plot reasons. it mainly because of Telemachus’s role and the suitor plot line. At best I could have it do we can make it the tournament or sources.

I've decided unkown pregnancy route for the kid's origins because it's much easier than the other version. Point is Little boy loves his mother and can't wait to meet his father. Telemachus has a whole battle with antinous over saying natsy shit about his mother, later Athena helps.

Consider this, the kid, still to be named, aged around 6, maybe 7, actually picks a fight with a random child, who disrespects Nya in some way, and who has clearly been raised too violently. At this point the general "punch your way out of this one" conclusion can not be reached but instead replaced with Nya picking up her child and leaving, telling him he should know better than to resort to violence, and instead use his heart.

The entirety of legendary- we'll be fine, for plot aligning reasoning would be the kid feeling akward in the crowded and new environment and being extra vigelant of creeps or general bad people. Also most of we'll be fine probably wouldn't apply well, but we keep Nya telling the child about Jay and how similar they are.

love in paradise would be very hard. Unless....

It's literally a one off where Jay finds himself stuck on an island. Probably stepped on a portal device and is now completely stuck, with no way home. Or even knowing where home is anymore. Instead of regular events, lets say Calypso- stand-in is actually a powerful being that helps him with clearing his mind and healing a bit because the man is a wreck. She's forcing him to self care and he wants to leave. Also I'm gonna give her mind related powers, kinda like neuro.

God games is fun because I could have that just be Nya finding a way to call on the source dragons, specifically energy and begging for some devine intervention. She has to convince many dragons.

Vengance-

I'm not sorry for loving you could either be another dream about Nya that helps him realise she was being genuine. Or It's the calypso stand in who is a shape shifter who tries to convine him to stay by shaping herself into "who he loves most" even though he doesn't know that is and just takes it as a further sign to go and pay the ninja a visit.

The same messanger dragon that helped him with the witch comes by to provide assistance across the sea and to the shore then leaves.

Now this could go down the forbidden Jay route, but here me out, he does find Nokt and the forbidden five randomly and kinda goes off on attacking them. At this point he'll electrocute anything in his way. Then Ras and Arin show up, the tiger man fully healed. Less intentionally and more they all ended up in one place type thing. Fight ensues. A storm approaches.

Arin is encouraged to hide. He actually comprehends the power scaling he's up against and does just that.

During the fight instead of finishing Ras off themselves, the five all stratigically retreat. The strength and at some point they realised you don't want to be on the other end of an electrical shock. Maybe Jay kills the weakest one. for funsies.

He goes for a beaten Ras next, aiming for the kill. He tries his best at least, but doesn't bother to confirm before taking the cloak and hat of one of the five that had been lying on the ground, and walking off to whereever home is.

He notices Arin, does bother much to question the kid on too much, and asks him where the ninja live. Arin just points to the vague direction of the monastery and says "On the mountain outside Ninjago, can't miss it."

And so Jay walks.

thats all I got so far. Until the Ithica saga comes out I guess.

I was very loose with vengance but that saga is all about just getting the vengance.

[cutiesigh]

❤️🖤🩷

Wuthering Waves has taken over all of my free time recently, so here's a sketch of Scar!Ren I originally shared in da 14DWY Discord!!

[singingcicadas]

The way it's depicted, Cybertron's pre-war societal issues had a lot less to do with Functionism and more to do with unchecked government corruption, massive wealth disparity, high layoff/unemployment rates, and disenfranchisement.

People were starving, they needed work, they weren’t getting any. Those that were fortunate enough to have work didn’t get paid living wages, much less have anything to spare for health contingencies. Even then stability’s still the luxury of the top few tiers; they live one cut away from layoff. The government cared only enough to exacerbate these issues by coming up with new ways for exploitation. Any attempts to protest or lobby were shut down through political persecution. As a result the masses turned increasingly to crime, drug abuse, thuggery, and violence. Extreme acts of terrorism gets lauded as long as the collateral damage's suffered by someone else. Morality and caution are eroded in the face of desperation.

Meanwhile the many alleged restrictions of Functionism are just lip service complaints made by the characters which doesn’t match up to most of the stuff we’re shown. Like if Rung could become a psychologist, a specialized job that requires higher education, despite having zero background on top of such a weird alt that he had to be classified as an ornament, then wow the functionists must be open-minded. If Dominus Ambus could be a scientist/doctor/explorer/author/successful social rights advocator during the height of functionist control with a minesweeper military-use alt (assuming that his secondary alt's the same as Minimus'), then wow the functionists must be accommodating. If Tyrest could become chief engineer under Nova and later go into law, a complete change of profession, while being a jet, then wow functionism's flexible. If Ratbat and Momus could become senators in a society that discriminates heavily against beastformers and labor frames, then wow that’s progressive. If every Prime from Nova to Zeta (with the exception of Sentinel, his alt’s a tank, he only has wings in Megatron Origin as part of his Apex armour upgrade), every single named pre-war senator other than Proteus and Momus, and four out of five of Nova Prime’s buddy club (only Galvatron's a grounder) were wingframes in a society that supposedly discriminates against wingframes, then wow that’s… inconsistent worldbuilding.

Megatron didn’t get into bloodsports or start a war because he didn’t get to pursue his dream job. He got driven into the pits and down the slippery slope of moral degeneration because his only source of income was cut off by the mine closure incident. People wanted livelihoods above anything else, it's the failure to provide that that made the miners go off the deep end and resulted in the death of a guard. If Functionism actually ensured that everyone could be guaranteed a job or at least minimized the unemployment rates, then stratified castes or not, there would have been no war. People, or societies, are generally capable of tolerating an incredible amount of injustice as long as the majority still have a chance at scraping by at the end of the day. But the government, and later Megatron, kept yanking the rug out from under everyone over and over until they no longer even had a chance at that; there's no other choice left but fight or die.

[vampiric-prose]

I can’t fathom how rocks and stone and earth can simply chip away,

Crumbling through the years,

All on their own,

A victim of plain wind and rain.

I can’t understand a cavern so wide,

So deep,

So hollow,

So treacherous.

I can’t describe the Grand Canyon

Any more than I could describe myself.

I can’t go back and rebuild the rock from erosion and dust,

I can’t fill the Grand Canyon any more than I could fill my own soul,

My own hollow pit of a body and soul.

[damnprecious]

I went for a coffee and then later to a restaurant with a friend I haven't seen in person for a while, and both times the friend correctly figured out the side of the table my stupid brain would require me to sit at

sometimes...being known is Good

[bredforloyalty]

i don't think we do luv i don't think we do

[stariomctrashio]

debauchery fit for a god

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[satinroses]

How Yan! Adepti react to feeling jealous (separate)

A/N: I FINALLY finished all the 10+ story quests I had lined up that I was procrastinating doing. It was gruelling. I've never pressed space bar so much in my life. By the end I couldn't feel my ass as I'd been sitting on it for too long BUT on the positive, doing Xianyun's story quest made me nostalgic for Liyue and got me motivated to write a little bit! I may do a harbinger one if I feel a bit silly, I'm not sure yet but please let me know if that's something you might be interested in! <3

(also i’d usually give this a little final read through but i am so exhausted so i just wanna get it posted so please forgive any silly mistakes or inconsistencies)

Word Count: 7.0k words

Includes Zhongli, Xiao, Xianyun, Ganyu

Warnings: Yandere Behaviours, if you are uncomfortable with dark themes please don't read! obsessive/possessive behaviours, younger Zhongli has serious issues - honestly all of them do, threats, violence, murder, manipulation, stalking, implied somno (depends how you read it) in Xiao's excerpt, some truly earth shattering delusions

Ganyu:

Renowned throughout Liyue Harbour for her mild manner and keen work ethic, the overworked secretary of Liyue Qixing was always a welcome sight around the harbour. It had taken Ganyu months to push past her bashfulness alongside countless encouragements from her colleagues and friends to confess her feelings to you.

It had only been once Captain Beidou had drunkenly declared that she would tell you herself if Ganyu didn’t muster up the courage that the Qilin had decided to tell you. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stuttered out her confession to you in the evening lantern light of Liyue Harbour.

Much to her delight you did not coldly reject the woman, instead you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips before muttering that you felt the exact same way.

In her thousands of years of life Ganyu cannot recall a time she's known more peace than the time she has since shared with you. Your mere presence coaxes the insomniac into a gentle slumber. Every day she gets to spend by your side is a day in which the woman is glowing with giddiness, so much so that even the conqueror of demons had noted the positive change to Ganyu’s disposition.

Ganyu had always adored her position as secretary even if it had caused her immeasurable stress, she had always strove to serve Liyue in whatever way she could and never resented her position in spite of the responsibility it entailed however now that Ganyu had something to treasure, someone she wished to hold close she couldn’t help the annoyance that crept over her when she was asked to work overtime for the 5th time this week.

The Adeptus wanted nothing more desperately than to return to your shared home (she had insisted you move in with her as soon as possible and you simply couldn’t say no to her large violet eyes as they glimmered with unshed tears at the thought of you rejecting her offer) and monopolise you for the evening, ushering you into bed and holding you as tightly as the poor qilin could, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

Ganyu prided herself on her maturity but even she couldn’t prevent glowering when she was denied yet another precious night in your company after Baiwen begged Ganyu to stay and help fill in some paperwork. 

She had dedicated herself to ensuring the smooth running of Liyue harbour yet even she could not fend off the envy that shadowed her as the thought of you running around the harbour without her. Every single person that was allowed to gaze upon your face while Ganyu was away from your side were rapidly earning spots on the Qilin’s list of enemies (a list she had only created 20 seconds prior)

Due to Ganyu’s soft and sensitive demeanour it’s easy to forget the sway she holds over Liyue. Several of the Qixing owing her favours after her years of servitude, she is in possession of countless embarrassing secrets she has gained access to due to her position. She holds the ears of the wealthiest people in teyvat as well as having fought ferociously in the archon war in bygone millenia.

Ganyu helped construct the very nation of Liyue into what it has become, moulding it with her very hands into the prosperous land it is. The people of Liyue have seemingly forgotten that Ganyu’s servitude is entirely her own choice. She does not serve the Qixing because she sees them as above her, she serves the Qixing because she wishes to, because she understands Liyue would collapse without her guiding hand.

Perhaps people will remember that when a man who makes a flirty remark to you will have a letter left on his doorstep detailing a solemn secret he long thought buried.

Perhaps people will remember that when the girl who blushed when your hands brushed as you both reached for the same bag of wheat is arrested for fraud despite her desperate claims to the contrary.

Perhaps people will remember that when the vendor who overcharged you goes bankrupt the following morning.

Perhaps people will remember that when the treasure hoarder who accosted you for your mora is found weeks later deep in a cave in Minlin, impaled with countless frosty arrows.

Rest assured, if people forget just how fierce Ganyu can be then she is more than happy to remind them.

Xianyun:

Xianyun often considers herself above such petty emotions as jealousy and possessiveness. 

She loudly declares herself one of the most measured of the Adepti, harbouring centuries of combat prowess and mechanical genius, raising two independent and fierce young woman on Mount Aocang, remaining a fierce and honourable servant to Morax and enduring the insults that flying rat that accompanied the traveler spewed at her, intentionally and not. Xianyun regarded herself as a dignified and patient woman.

After centuries of not being proven to the contrary, to the mighty Cloud Retainer there is no issue that cannot be overcome with the technical brilliance she has acquired or the thrumming power of the illuminated blood in her veins or so she had believed until recently.

Despite the mystery and majesty the Adepti commonly shrouded themselves in as they dwelled in their mountainous retreat, Xianyun had always been vigilant in ensuring that she honoured her vow to Rex Lapis and safeguard any of his subjects she comes across.

After doing her divinely ordained duty centuries ago and saving a young man from a rock fall she had since become accustomed to receiving offerings from the man's family and his descendants in the centuries since then. 

As an adepti offerings of thanks and acknowledgments of her mercy were not uncommon, especially to one so revered as cloud retainer. Even so she continued to be surprised that his descendants remained vigilant in offering their sincere gratitude towards her centuries after she saved the man.

If you asked Xianyun herself she would claim she holds none of the descendants in higher regard than the other however if you were in her presence when a certain individual climbs up the path to Mount Aocang you would be able to see in the way her breath hitches and she stops her sentence, her entire being frozen as she watches them set down the home cooked meal and offer a gentle prayer of thanks.

Even in her crane form her eyes never once stray from the visitor. She trails her vision over them, intaking every aspect of their appearance. how their hair falls over their face, how their breath comes out in warm puffs after the exertion of the climb, how they let a satisfied grin fall upon their face as they set the meal down.

Despite her tenacity and confidence Xianyun has still not formally introduced herself to her visitor, instead opting to watch from afar. She goes out of her way to personally ensure that your journey to Liyue harbour is safe and uneventful as she trails after you in her avian form, her eyes on the path ahead of you. She is more than ready to dart down and defeat any hillichurls or geovishaps or clear the rock slide blocking your path before you’re even aware the obstacle is there.

If anyone were to inquire about her vigilance in ensuring your safety she would puff her chest out and remind them of her contract with Rex Lapis and the duty she had to guard Liyue Harbour and all its inhabitants. 

Shenhe and Ganyu have long given up on inquiring about you after a flustered cloud retainer gave them the same monologue about her sworn duty to Morax for the 27th time.

Does she do this with every visitor to her domain? For thousands of years one has been a most faithful servant to Morax, to question one fulfilling their duty is to question ones-

As far as Xianyun is concerned she is simply doing her duty as an adeptus, there is no ulterior motive and she will ensure that she emphasises this to every person who inquires about her interest in you.

She even goes so far as to have Shenhe and Ganyu give her regular updates on your life when you haven’t been out Mount Aocang in a long time (read: over 24 hours)

Upon formally moving to Liyue Harbour, Cloud Retainer assumes the name of Xianyun and decides to use her mortal form to officially introduce herself to you. She will not allow you to know of her true identity as the subject of your reverence until she believes you are both adequately acquainted. One wishes simply to know you she thinks to herself

Again this is merely her curiosity at work she convinces herself. she merely wishes to know you are safe or so she attempts to convince herself, ignoring the tender fluttering in her chest at the thought of seeing you up close. 

No this is simply her duty as an adeptus. She takes her contract seriously, nothing more. 

She doesn’t seem this invested in any of the other citizens? One does not have to justify Oneself to the likes of you.

From the updates she had instructed Shenhe and Ganyu to deliver when she still resided on Mount Aocang she knew you frequented the Yanshang Teahouse. Unsure of when you would decide to visit it again she simply decided the best course of action would be to go to the teahouse every night from midday to closing until her eyes could meet yours.

On the 4th night of waiting to see you again she was growing antsy and entertaining thoughts of banging down every door in Liyue until she found you once again, her eyes darting around the room frantically. Her vision danced from face to face in a frantic tango until it settled on a familiar one.

Her entire being relaxed as she saw you seated at a table, soft hands clasped around a cup of tea taking tentative sips. The warm glow in your eyes made her feel as though she was feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time yet seeing that tenderness and affection directed at the person seated opposite you made her illuminated blood simmer as violent imaginings filled the adepti’s mind, a thousand different inventions to bring nothing but distress to your counterpart.

Equally Xianyun’s mind raced with a dozen different ways to fix this situation. No one but her deserved to see the soft glow in your eyes. No one but her was worthy of your reverence. To see you sharing the admiration she thought was only reserved solely for her... One would not stand for it.

You do not survive fighting in the front lines of the Archon war and a thousand tribulations afterwards by allowing slights against you to go unanswered. Xianyun was no stranger to seeking out her own justice. 

Such a shame for the person next to you that they are visiting from Fontaine and as such she has no obligation to hold back. Even if they were from Liyue she is not entirely sure even Morax could prevent her from exacting her bloody vengeance.

Although she had originally decided to stay in Liyue harbour permanently she now found herself longing for the recluse of Mount Aocang, her only little world where the only people that mattered were the two of you. That was all she needed. You would soon learn that was all you needed to.

She would pack tonight and leave for Mount Aocang at first light. 

The next time you would set foot on the mountain you would not be leaving again.

Xiao:

The conqueror of demons

The vigilant Yaksha

The bane of all evil

Throughout his many millennia of life Xiao has been called by countless titles but from you he longed only to hear his name on your lips.

After saving you from a few hillichurls he had anticipated the usual stuttering of gratitude that was so common from mortals, however what he didn’t expect was how his heart tugged at the sight of relieved tears in your eyes. Large wet eyes looking up at him with unabashed admiration.

The adeptus was puzzled by the clear reaction his body had to the tender gaze you bestowed upon him. With flushed cheeks and dilated pupils the vigilant yaksha quickly fled from the scene, not even muttering a word. He spent the night attempting to disregard how the gentle trembling of your lips replayed in his minds eye or how he simply couldn’t rid himself of the thought of how soft and supple your skin had seemed in the cool moonlight of Liyue.

The following day and night the yaksha busied himself with slaying the beasts and scum that loitered within the vicinity of the Wangshu inn. When you disregard the fervent replaying of your interaction yesterday that thrummed through his brain, the day had passed exactly as he had anticipated. 

Torment.

Suffering.

Misery.

These were parts of his day that was not foreign to him. They certainly were not comfortable but there was an air of familiarity around these emotions. Perhaps his day would have ended in a similar way had it not been for the sound of hesitant feet making their way onto the top balcony of the inn. 

He peered down from his position on the inn's roof inquisitively. Verr often made a point of ensuring any visitors to the inn avoided the top floor in order to grant the Adeptus much needed solitude. 

Instead it was… you. Again.

In your hands sat a plate of almond tofu, your fingers gripping the porcelain plate almost hard enough to smash it as you called out hesitantly

“Adeptus Xiao?” 

His hairs prickled as he heard you call out his name. Hearing his name on your tongue, echoing your pronunciation of every syllable, rewinding and replaying the noises you made. The hitch of your breath before speaking, the breathiness of your words, the fondness in your tone despite your nervousness.

He wanted desperately to drop down and greet you, to ask you to say his name again. He would beg if he had to yet he couldn’t move

“If you’re here… Miss Verr told me you enjoyed almond tofu so I’ll just leave it here for you. I-” 

You cleared your throat, your voice gaining some timbre as you gained some confidence speaking to what you hoped was the Adeptus that had saved you

“I wanted to thank you for saving me yesterday, without you i wouldn’t be here now”

You placed the plate onto the balcony before giving one last hopeful glance around. No sign of the adeptus. Regardless you whispered a soft hopeful prayer that the adeptus would find the token of gratitude you were leaving him.

As he heard your footsteps retreat down the staircase of the inn he finally allowed himself to breathe again. Leaping down onto the balcony of the inn with feline grace, he picked up the dish you left for him. His mouth pooled with saliva, his appetite was not for the almond tofu before him. As he traced the sides of the plate where your hands had once been, his heart fluttered like a teenage boy with a crush.

Xiao had spent the day thinking of you far more than he would dare verbalise but this new interaction with you had fanned the spark of interest into a blazing obsession. To think that he had been on your mind too, it was overwhelming for the adeptus, he almost didn’t want to believe that one such as himself could be blessed with something so tender to cherish as you.

He took care to watch over you vigilantly, rarely straying from your side. Ensuring your safety and acting as your shadow became his priority, however he still maintained a distance between you both, fearful that perhaps he may frighten you away with the intensity of his desire to guard you his karmic debt might overwhelm him in your presence.

The yaksha’s usual post at Wangshu inn was quickly abandoned in favour of his new perch on your roof. Of course he would never wish to invade your privacy but when you leave your bedroom window open like that… surely you must have some idea that the yaksha has taken an interest in you. Perhaps you know Xiao is there, you’ve seen him in the corner of your eye and this is your way of inviting him inside and you're simply too timid to declare it.

Even if you haven’t seen him and this isn't an invitation, clearly your senses are rather dull and you cannot be trusted to watch over yourself. He has been trailing you for weeks now so if you truly haven't noticed him then that’s all the more proof that he should slip inside your bedroom window… to keep a better eye on you while you remain defenceless as you rest.

Those are the two primary justifications he cycles through as he tentatively slides through your window, his feet silent on your floorboards after thousands of years mastering the art of agility. He wanders around your bedroom, flitting through the little trinkets you had scattered about; pretty seashells, crystals, a vase of silk flowers, your outfit for the following day. 

He huffed out a breath at your mortal amusements, countless little testaments to your interests, a dozen tributes to your fascinations. Despite the superfluous nature of these curios you had scattered about, because they were small remnants of you he simply couldn;t bring himself to feel disdain for them, not when they brought him just a little closer into your world.

After he had thoroughly explored every countertop in your bedroom, his eyes darted to what he had been attempting (and failing) to ignore this entire time. Watching your peaceful slumber brought him more relief than he cared to admit. He perched tentatively on the side of your bed.  Despite his attempts to restrain himself, he simply couldn’t prevent the wandering of his hand across the soft blanket that covered you.

Once he had traced his hand against your form, separated only by the blanket, he let his hand grasp onto a corner of it. Slowly peeling the blanket off of your form like a present that the archons had carefully wrapped just for him, golden eyes darkening as he drank in your body, covered only by sleep wear. 

His deep, trembling intakes of breath stopped only when he saw your brow scrunch as you tossed in discomfort, reaching for the blanket he had since removed. Any moment you would wake up, he was sure of it. With no time to cover you back up with your blanket and even less to put your ornaments and baubles back in their spots he slipped back out of your window silently, returning back into the shadows to observe you faithfully.

The following nights he didn’t dare creep back into your bedroom. You now kept the window shut and curtains drawn. He would be dishonest if he said he wasn’t slightly frustrated by this development but moreover he was glad you didn’t simply ignore such an occasion. After all you didn’t realise it was him in your room, for all you know it could have been some debauched pervert. He would be thankful that you’re so vigilant about your safety if that was the extent of your preventative measures, however it was not.

You now had a friend staying with you. Admittedly you could just be having them stay with you as a deterrent or precaution to any unsavoury folks and yes he likely did give you quite the fright but you have no need for anyone's protection but his. You need only speak his name and the conqueror of demon’s is at your beck and call. He would be your undeterred shield, your unyielding blade to set upon any who would harm you if only you would let him.

Being around you makes Xiao feel tender and breakable for the first time since he signed his contract with Rex Lapis. He should hate how you make him feel but he can’t… he’s not sure he could hate anything pertaining to you. Well perhaps one thing: that friend who seems insistent on escorting you everywhere. Perhaps Xiao wouldn’t mind it so much (he definitely would still mind) if your friend wasn’t so liberal with his gaze, just by analysing the man for a few moments Xiao could tell he had less than noble thoughts about you.

After about a week of being on such high alert your friend convinces you to get out of the harbour, that perhaps some time away would do you some good. Perhaps you could go to Mondstadt for a week or so together. Usually you would be inclined to disagree with his spontaneous ideas but for almost a month Liyue has been smothering you. Initially you attempted to ignore the oppressive gaze you felt upon you, convincing yourself it was a mere delusion, a cruel trick your mind was playing but after last week you were certain there was a real cause for concern behind the gaze that followed you wherever you roamed.

Upon overhearing this conversation Xiao’s blood ran cold. Going to Mondstadt means leaving the area in which he can best protect you. Going to Mondstadt means you’re in far more danger than he could allow, sure he could ask that troublesome bard to keep an eye on you but that simply means opening himself up to questions he’s not even sure he knows the answers to just yet. 

The accursed day finally arrives despite Xiao’s feverish wishes to the contrary. You begin the trek to Mondstadt when the sun is high in the sky, he keeps his eye on you, eagerly awaiting any moment you might need help, any opening for him to sweep in and keep you in Liyue for even a second longer. Perhaps this time he might mutter a word to you, tell you ‘you’re welcome’ when you inevitably drown him in gratitude or extend an offer of an escort all the way to Mondstadt (of course he’ll be escorting you regardless of whether you’re aware of it or not). 

Instead you make it all the way to Wangshu inn without issue, much to the yaksha’s irritation. As the sun began to shrink into the horizon and the stars began to glimmer softly in the gloam coated sky, you beg your friend to stop in the inn for the night, hesitant to continue on with the daylight quickly dwindling however they refuse, insisting that you were practically at Stone Gate already and to keep on going for a little while longer, spewing empty promises of protecting you if anything might attack you. You shifted nervously, your eyes looking askew but you conceded, following dutifully after your companion through Dihua marsh.

As expected you didn’t get far in the dark without bumping into several hillichurls however much to your misfortune it wasn’t just a handful of meagre hillichurls. The mitachurl towered over you, his thick club raised in the air before slamming down next to your head as you rolled to the side. You darted out from under the beast, your eyes searching through the chaos for your friend only to be met with a distressing view. Your supposed friend fleeing the battle, their eyes searching for yours, tinged with pain as they mouthed a quick “I’m sorry” before continuing their desperate flee, leaving you to fend against the hillichurls alone.

Betrayal and dejection flooded you as you watched the person who had promised to protect you both from whatever had been watching you and whatever beasts you may bump into in the darkness. The stinging in your tear ducts and burning in your chest became dampened as you felt a swift tap to the back of your neck as your world faded into darkness. You felt no pain, no more betrayal as you collapsed. 

- 

Xiao had originally intended to take advantage of this situation. To appear by your side when the battle seemed lost, saving you if only to see your eyes light up in recognition of the yaksha before you but when he realised that wretch was fleeing from the battle, surely leaving you for dead he couldn’t stand still for another moment, his fingers curling around the air, instinctually craving the weight of his weapon to rest in his palms. 

Using the end of this spear he hit you with just enough force to send you into the soft slumber of unconsciousness, catching you gently before laying you down on the grass, cradling your head like one would a newborn babe. With you carefully positioned out of his path he donned the mask of exorcism that usually sat at his waist, the karmic debt swirling around him in much higher intensity.

Slaughtering a small camp of hillichurls was a small feat for the conqueror of demons however he would not stop there. Xiao refused to rest until he felt that justice had been served for you, his most beloved.

Xiao scooped up your sleeping body before taking you back to Wangshu inn. When he first took up the mantle of protector of the inn Verr had offered him a room as thanks for his service and until now he had little need for it. He entered the dusty room and lay you down on the bed, brushing hair out of your face. The room was filled with only barebones furniture but perhaps tomorrow he would go to your home and bring you some of your pretty ornaments to make it seem more homely for you.

He allowed himself one small indulgence before he would head back out again to seek retribution for you. He removed the glove on one of his hands and took his bare, trembling fingers he traced across your lips. Memorising every inch and crevice of your soft lips beneath his fingers brought him a sense of unfathomable peace he had not felt since… he couldn’t remember anytime he had felt a sense of calm remotely similar to this.

Despite it paining him to do so the yaksha managed to force himself out of the stupor you had coaxed him into with your gentle breathing and sweet scent. Placing his glove back on and summoning his Jade winged spear the adeptus took off into the night once more.

When he returned to the remnants of the hillichurl camp, it didnt take long for him to find a trail. Following the dragging footsteps in the dust led him directly to your ‘friend’, now curled up at the foot of Wuwang hill, snot coating their face as their sobbed into their hands, wracked with grief and distress at their actions.

Even now the adeptus couldn’t muster even an illusion of sympathy or understanding, seeing them in this state only made his loathing for them grow.

They had truly deluded themself into believing they were a worthy protector for you? They couldn’t even defend themself.

With the hatred clawing up his throat like bile, Xiao couldn’t contain the Karmic debt slithering over him. His grip on his polearm tightened as he raised it above his head.

The fact that they truly believed themself to be a competitor for your affections would have almost been humorous had it not been for their display of cowardice not even an hour prior.

He plunged his weapon into their soft flesh methodically, his grip not faltering for even a moment. If it weren’t for his concern about you rousing afraid and alone, he would have taken his time and drawn their suffering out. He would have shown them that a few measly hillichurls were the least of his issues, instead he gritted his teeth, deciding to place your happiness and safety over his own desperate lust for vengeance.

Xiao quickly turned to abandon the scene. Even staring upon the filth’s body, thinking of the warmth and affection you had shared and how quickly they had forsaken you… No, he couldn’t end it like this. He turned back around to the almost corpse- the last few vestiges of life were flickering. Xiao resolved to make the last few breaths of air your friend would take as painful as possible. Digging his foot into their chest before he raised his polearm once more. Cutting and slicing, skewing and carving until all that remained after the frenzy was a mound of meat, muscle and bone.

-

Xiao crept into the room hoping you still remained asleep. A rare smile blossomed across the pale face of the Yaksha as he saw you curled up on the bed.

Dropping his spear by your bed Xiao stared at you longingly 

He had waited so long for the moment in which he could express his feelings to you properly. He wanted to show you he loved you without fear. Now that you were lying in his bed, eyelids closed and breathing deep, Xiao made the decision that he could indulge himself fully before you woke up. 

Just this once as a reward for saving you.

He’s sure you won't mind after all the time and energy he has devoted to ensuring your safety he’s almost positive you would be fine with him taking his fill. 

Surely after two millennia of selflessness he has earned the right to be a little selfish.

With one swift step Xiao turned around to lock the bedroom door behind him.

Zhongli:

The reaction of Zhongli varies significantly depending on which phase of his life he is in. The man who goes by the name Zhongli has mellowed out considerably since his days as Deus Auri, If someone had stolen your attention away from him they may be greeted with several snide remarks and biting threats, if somebody stole your affection away from him then Zhongli would have a much less pleasant reaction however if either such thing occurred during his younger years as the Lord of the Adepti and God of contracts it is unlikely any potential suitors will escape unscathed.

In his youth Zhongli was far more of a slave to his draconic instincts than he was willing to admit. Upon the realisation of his intense feelings for you, the warrior god is far more frightened than he lets on. You are so fragile in comparison to him, so breakable. Not only that but humans are so flighty. Where Adepti may be content to sit on the same mountain top for centuries in solemn meditation, the same cannot be said for mortals. He has watched them flit about, to and fro for centuries and he would be lying if he didn’t find the mortal proclivity for change rather unnerving. 

He has watched humans profess undying love for one another before turning around and betraying their vows to each other. It’s not that he thinks you’re anything like those adulterers, really he doesn’t but… you humans are slaves to your desires (he says, completely unaware of the irony his statement brings), he doesn’t want you to bring harm to your relationship because your human heart is fickle (you have not been made aware of your ‘relationship’ with the Lord of Geo) so he shall personally ensure that no one and nothing will allow you to stray from him.

And yes this is all because he cares about you and definitely not because when he sees other mens eyes flit across you he has to use every ounce of self control to prevent him from smiting the filth where they stand for allowing their lecherous eyes trail across you like a cut of meat at the market or a pretty jewel to possess (again, completely lacking in the necessary self awareness to recall how his own lustful eyes rake across your form).

Any man that makes an advance towards you shall meet a grisly end.

The shopkeeper who gave you an extra bag of rice on the house flees Liyue harbour muttering nothing but reverent prayers and desperate pleas for mercy to Rex Lapis for his transgression.

The Physician who helped bandage up your torso after you were wounded by a follower of Osial was offered a far more lenient punishment. Any place his skin may have made contact with you is carved off, his life is only spared as he was helping you however Morax cannot help the way his claws dig into his palms leaving fresh welts in the calloused skin, still unused to this humanoid form, unable to contain his rage at the thought of another touching you in a state of undress, even if only to heal you. Your bare skin is for his hands alone. If someone had to dress your wounds then they should have summoned him (please note that he has not made his affections for you known to you or anyone else for that matter)

After his most recent battle, felling yet another God who rivalled him for the position of Archon, Morax who had decided to take some weeks to allow for Liyue harbour to recover and the Adepti to rest. However when he learns it was a follower of Osial who dared to mar your delicate skin… He is rallying his Adepti with a fervour and aggression unseen from the warrior god. No one is entirely sure what has incited Morax to take such a devotion to ensuring Osial is destroyed but with his pupils in slits and his grip on Vortex Vanquisher so tight it looks as though the staff may snap, none of the Adepti are brave enough to question their lord.

Despite being renowned as the most fearsome of fighters no one, not even the closest of Morax’s allies had seen such a slaughter brought down by the Draconic lord of Geo. 

Barbaric.

Savage. 

Monstrous.

A slaughter.

Countless words could be used to describe the massacre Morax unleashed upon Osial, the Overlord of the Vortex and all his followers; however those were the most commonly repeated in the months following the extermination.

All knew to be wary of Morax, however that was the day the people of Teyvat truly learned to fear his wrath.

He hoped that when you looked out of the bay of Liyue Harbour and saw the Guyun Stone Forest, a complete destruction of every remnant of Osial and his forces, you would be reminded of his love for you, you would realise Morax is clearly the superior choice compared to all the other men around you.

Who but Morax could give you Teyvat?

Who but Morax would engulf the world in flame if only to see you smile?

Who but Morax could and would give you every comfort mora could afford?

He had frequently entertained various plans for his courtship with you; however the one his mind spun most frequently was to win the Archon war and assume his role as one of the chosen seven. Then he would raise you up as his consort, granting you immortality and binding the two of you eternally in a contract of marriage. 

Of course that didn’t mean he couldn’t let his mind wander to other fantasies, his mind swirling with thoughts of spiriting you away to his palatial domain and keeping you there for days, weeks, months, years, however it took for his insatiable desire for you to be satiated. Only then would he leave his domain to win the war and return to you as the victor of the brutal war and one of the seven, finally able to rest a crown upon your head. 

Admittedly he had yet to confess his desire to take you to wife or even that he loved you so desperately and fervently that it was one of the few things that managed to frighten the lord of contracts.

But surely you knew, even if he hadn’t verbalised it. He refused to believe you didn’t feel the tug between you both, reeling you together. You simply must understand what it's like to look into his eyes and feel as though you’re seeing clearly for the first time in your life. You have to know what its like to feel as though every step apart is energy wasted. You too must crave to feel his bare skin against your own, willing to merge into one if only to bring you both closer together.

Even if you somehow did not feel the same things… surely you must feel his gaze upon you. When he looks down at his city his eyes rest only on you, no matter how much he tries to break his gaze away from you.

Besides he doesn’t need words when he has made his romantic intentions towards you more than obvious in the way his draconic instincts have been roaring for him to. You have accepted his gifts of courtship happily, you clearly understand that he can fulfil his role in providing for you and any young you may have. He has seen you wearing the glaze lily in your hair, the very same lily he had his adepti scour the war torn lands for days to obtain. 

Admittedly you seemed rather hesitant to accept the chests of mora and countless jewels he had left on your doorstep but equally you didn’t reject the gifts. As far as he was concerned that was proof enough that you had accepted his offer of courtship. By all draconic standards you were now officially entered into a contract with the rising Lord of Liyue and he would not take any contract lightly.

Despite the occasional event where some filthy wretch had to be taught to keep their lecherous eyes and hands off the Lord of Contracts future consort and the fact that he had not been able to converse with you about the future of your relationship, he believed his ‘relationship’ with you was going exceedingly well. 

In spite of this and much to the rage of Morax, another reprobate had decided to give you an offer of courtship.

Morax can feel rage thickening in his veins, viscous and violent. Watching you blush softly at the Mortal’s meagre proposition. He understood mortals were far more inclined towards change and adaptation than a being such as he could even begin to comprehend as a deity that stands unchanging as stone, refusing to be eroded by the sands of time or the winds of change. Even so he did not expect such a flagrant betrayal. You don't even have the decency to look shameful as you forsake every thoughtful gift the lord of contracts had spent countless hours pouring over to ensure you received only the best.

Even if Rex Lapis didn’t currently have the time to display his affection verbally he had ensured that he had more than made up for it with his opulent gifts, only the finest for his future consort.

He had been desperately trying to restrain himself from stealing you away to his personal realm every time he saw you pass through the centre of the harbour. He had managed to restrain himself, displaying such self control and patience that he surprised even himself but a man has limits and the prime adeptus could stand no further insult.

How dare that vermin stand where he should, face to face with you, gazing into your eyes, drinking in the warmth that pooled into your cheeks, his arm extended with a meagre sweet flower clutched in his sweaty palm, the stem already drooping from being clutched so tightly.

Perhaps if you begged softly for the poor fools life Morax may bestow a rare act of mercy and only remove the man's eyes or tongue rather than his life, if only to see his beloved happy however all thoughts of Mercy were dashed when you accepted the flower with a soft smile gracing your face.

He didn’t think it was possible for his beloved’s glowing smile to inspire such a primal rage within him.

The city of Liyue harbour came to a stand still as their mighty Lord descended upon their city with a swiftness imperceptible to the naked eye to stand between you and your would be suitor. 

A clawed hand clasped around the mortal man’s throat, blood trickling out of the small incisions the razor sharp claws of his humanoid form.

The man gasped for air however Morax’s grip was not dissuaded. His hand only faltered when he heard a familiar voice cry out

“Lord Morax! Please! Please release him i beg of you” 

He turned his attention to you now perched on your knees, grasping at the bottom of his robe in a desperate plea and display of reverence. Although his blood still simmered with the fury of betrayal both at you and the wretch that had tempted you away from his side, seeing you now on your knees for him, tears welling in your soft eyes he simply couldn’t stay angry, not at you at least.

He threw the young man down on the ground with a sickening crack, watching him writhe around desperately clutching at the wounds on his throat.

No more waiting and no more distractions. This little infraction has persuaded him to do exactly what he needed to this entire time. 

Taloned hands scoop you up, pressing you close into a solid, warm chest as you are quickly whisked away from the harbour and everything you had ever known. He should have known better than to allow you to wander freely without his stewardship or guiding hand to lead you.

Thankfully here in Morax’s private domain you two will be able to remain unbothered for as long as he sees fit, remaining far away from any man that may dare to tempt you away from him and he can rest easy knowing you will be tended to by the servants whilst he goes out and deals with the rodent that tried to damage he and his beloved’s relationship. 

Not that it shall matter anymore once the mortal is disposed of. After all, despite his reputation as a war monger and monster, Morax is capable of understanding and empathy. You cannot help the fact that it is human nature to wish to try every experience, to culminate a portfolio of countless events and adventures, it really was a failing on his behalf to not keep a closer eye on you. Not to worry, from here on out he shall never part from your side, he shall be with you every moment of every day to remind you of your vow.

Of course if he wins the archon war, and he will, he knows in his very bones that he was born for the role of archon then he shall have the power and authority to raise you up by his side, as his consort and bestow you with eternal life and only then you shall truly remain at each others sides, forever. He shall not even entertain the thought of you being stolen from him again, covetous creature that he is.

[maikissed]

a secret sweetheart

jude bellingham x reader

summary: an unexpected article containing an appaling gossip is out. everybody wants to know who Jude's secret sweetheart is... warnings: none, maybe some misspells, I'm sorry, I'm writing like crazy to release some stress as of late...

You jumped up on you seat as soon as your eyes landed on the article. Your mouth wide open, you were hurriedly eyeing the words written in the most outrageous and presumptive manner. And the pictures too, how was it that the moment captured by lenses of a camera was showing such inconsistent image? Giving off the impression that everything described below might most likely be real. Your eyes turning wider and wider with every read word, you turned restless in a span of a second. You huffed analysing the photos, your lip nervously placed between your teeth, you were fuming. It perfectly presented your wide smile, little summer dress on you, his hand placed on your hip, he was looking down at you, his eyes engrossed in something you might have had said seconds before the picture was taken, delicate, tender smile upon his lips. It was indeed sending some kind of message. And you were furious.

“Jude” you called after energetically entering the living room.

His eyes shot up from his phone, he eyed you curiously.

“Have you seen this?” you approached him quickly, the screen of your phone practically in his nose.

He groaned, grabbing your wrist to steady your hand and fleetingly eyed the article. Not even giving it a proper attention. He didn’t seem bothered at all, your eyes widened at his reaction, or lack of it, truth be told.

“What about it?” he asked nonchalantly in a calm voice.

“What about it?! Can you see what it says?!” you screeched, feeling almost hysterical.

“I can see they called you stunning” he beamed at you, relaxing on the sofa.

“Jude!” you almost yelled “The whole world now believes that I am your secret sweetheart!” you accented the last two words using your fingers to present the quote gesture; these were in fact words used in the material.

He opened his mouth to comment on that, but you silenced him angrily with a quick flick of your hand and started to read:

“Now we can say that it is kind of unexpected turn of events for us. Jude Bellingham, an English professional footballer who plays as a midfielder for spanish La Liga club Real Madrid and the England national team, finally presented his secret sweetheart! Not yet spotted accompanied by any lady, despite many rumours of dating the prettiest lot of models and famous influencers, was seen strolling the streets of California with an… unknown beauty. We must say she is stunning, true pleasure to the eyes. And we are surprised, we’ve been hearing so much about his latest infatuation with the Dutch model, Laura Celia Valk” you could hear him scoff but you did not avert your gaze from the article, raising your voice to make sure he won’t interrupt you “But there weren’t any unveiled revelations about their relationship and now we can openly say – multimillionaire star has his eyes and attention somewhere else. And his eyes are full of adoration! We have it all on pictures! Just take a look and tell us this is not the most enjoyable view of a young love blossoming between these two. Why all this secrecy, Jude? Scream, shout and show your happiness to the whole world! We’re waiting for some more sweet content from these two!”

Your cheeks heated, your chest rising and falling in exasperation. You looked at him expectantly. You could see he was fighting a smile, the corner of his lip rising in a smirk. He was amused, you were vexed and anxious.

“When will all this shite with Laura end?” he frowned and you grabbed the nearest pillow placed beside him to throw it in his direction.

“It ends now because the whole of Internet will blow out with these pictures!”

“Wait a second, let me call them and tell them to delete it this instant. What was the name of the site again?” he leaned to grab the phone from you but you swiftly yanked your hand up.

“Be serious” you growled.

“We were on vacation, they were smart and took the pictures. It’s how media and paps work, there’s not much we could do” he shrugged, still way too calm about this for your liking.

At some point you were prepared that the ongoing, growing interest in his persona would make him more vulnerable and seen, followed. You knew people were very much interested in private lives of stars, especially the rising ones that were the hottest subject around, but you hoped that none of such assumptions would be brought regarding the relations between you two. It was a threat for your own life, your privacy. You feared the repercussions, yet somehow you turned a blind eye. And there you had the consequences. Right in your hand.

“What happens if Kit sees these?” you murmured looking away from your friend.

“Is he that insecure?” he mocked, but you didn’t answer him, your gaze timid and withdrawn as you looked at him briefly “What is it? You didn’t tell him who you’re friends with?” he asked in a simple voice, you stayed silent and a second after you could hear him let out an amused gasp “Ooh, were you keeping me secret, sweets?”

You sharply turned your head to spot a cheeky grin painted on his face. You started to look for that pillow once more.

“Why would I bring up the subject of Mister Jude Bellingham so soon? It’s very fresh, he’d probably end up pining over you” you spat, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Is your choice in men that poor?” he chuckled.

“Don’t be rude” you fought “Like your choice in girls is most tasteful”

“From that appealing article I’d say it is”

Your hands fell down your body and you squinted your eyes at him, agitated by his unmoved attitude and ignorance.

“You will not use me for your good press!” you hissed turning around with intention to leave the room, but Jude quickly grasped your hand before you stormed off.

“That’s not what I meant, y/n” his voice calm and gentle when he pulled you closer to where he was seated.

You stood between his knees, upset and worried, your head down.

“Come here” he murmured making more room for you to sit beside him.

Many thoughts kept raging through your brain. You’ve been thoughtless and silly, hoping that your lives would stay easy and uncomplicated no matter the odds. There was worry blooming inside you, but not exactly about your own self, your own private life; you worried such events would made you both have to choose. Choose to be close, or choose to finally part. You were fearful.

“What’s on your mind now?” he whispered, gently nudging your side.

“How can we be friends amongst all this?” you asked turning your head to look at him.

He had the extraordinary ability to calm your nerves with a soft blink of his eyes, delicate, reassuring smile and tenderness seeping into his gaze as he looked at you. You held it in highest regard, the fact that he always was your safe haven. It should worry you, it did sometimes, but you relished in it still.

“Oh no, don’t start with it” he whined with a funny look on his face “I’m not breaking up with you because of some gossips”

You snorted at his reaction.

“How will I be able to date if any man I meet would most likely compare himself to you?”

The sarcastic question made him laugh loudly and you slapped him briefly on the arm, feeling abashed. How infuriating this boy could be.

“Too bad for them” he shrugged “You can date me then, everybody thinks you already are” that added sentence making you scoff.

“Fuck you” you retorted.

“Sure, why not, we could start with that to break the ice”

“Jude!” you gasped in protest, adding a frustrated groan at his flippancy, trying to stand up from the sofa, but he was quick to snatch you back into his arms.

Your life would most likely complicate much more as long as he was present in it.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!” 

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place. 

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding. 

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to  theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.” 

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.” 

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between. 

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room  having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?” 

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it. 

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it. 

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it. 

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length. 

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorsky @fan-goddess

[gloryy-vs]

Neteyam breeding kink fr he is his daddy’s son

||

YALL ARE FILTHY.

me too.

characters: 25 y/o neteyam x na’vi!reader

ratings: SO NSFW. breeding kink, praise kink, heavy choking, KINDA? vanilla, submissive reader, biting, soft dom neteyam, neteyam wants a baby momma????

||

His hand wrapped around your throat, pushing you down onto the hard woven mat, while his free hand dragged down to your loincloth, undoing the knot hurriedly. His eyes looked greedy, hungry even, while yours were glossed over in tears of desperation. Neteyam didn’t bother taking his time with you, already rock hard from the thought of filling you up with his seed.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me right? Spread those pretty legs, cmon baby.” He said, and you obliged instantly. Your legs were spread open in front of him while his hand trailed down further, fingering you roughly. Small whines and mewls escaped your lips, it was as vocal as you could get considering his hand never left your throat. Neteyam forced another finger inside, pressing against the soft, gummy spot inside of you. Your back arched, craving the feeling of his hot cock inside of you. Your golden eyes must’ve spoke for you, as Neteyam leaned down to litter your cheek with kisses.

“So pretty. You wanna have my babies? Use your words, pretty girl.” He said, releasing your throat from his grasp. He never stopped fingering you, and out of embarrassment and pleasure you slurred your words.

“Yes…m’gonna be a good girl. I want your babies, sir.” You said, back still as arched as it could get. Neteyams eyes went dark, his hand lifting your left leg over his shoulder in an instant. The larger male grabbed a hold of his cock, stroking it before teasing your already sensitive hole. With a small smirk at your flinching reaction, he slipped inside of you, stretching you out and filling you up as much as he could with his member. One hand remained on your left leg while the other dug into your right hip, and his pace started out painfully slow, he wanted to feel every ridge inside of you. You inhaled sharply, nails digging into the mat beneath you in ecstasy.

“Faster, Teyam. Faster, please.” You slurred, raising your other hand above your head to grip at the mat there. That would be the only time he takes an instruction from you. He pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip of his cock in before slamming into your harshly. His thrusts became animalistic. Each one packing more need, desire and strength. He couldn’t help but admire your moans beneath him, as he bit into the leg he placed over his shoulder, his fangs sinking in lightly. Your eyes rolled back at the interaction, the slight pain in your leg mixed with the immense pleasure you felt inside of you was too much to deal with and he definitely wasn’t slowing down until you were dripping his cum. His eyes grazed over your bare body, watching as your breasts swayed from each thrust. Neteyam released your leg, leaning down closer to you as his hands traveled to your breasts, then your waist before settling on them. His fingers dug into you again, leaving small crescent shapes on your back. “You take me so well baby.” Neteyam said.

“M’gonna cum, Teyam!” You whined in response, while your hands grabbed onto his arms, leaving faint scratches as they repeatedly traveled down each time he rammed himself into you. He shook his head, braids swaying back and forth. “Not until I fill you up, baby. Cmon, keep it together for me, princess.” He said breathlessly. Your face went red, and he could tell the pet names were getting to you from the way your pussy got wetter and took his length in deeper with each thrust. Neteyam was nearing his climax too, slowing down the pace with hard trusts, but inconsistently. He threw his head back, fingers scratching from your waist down to your knees as his hips bucked softly, and his stomach tensed. “You ready pretty girl? Take it all baby, take it all.” He sighed, leaning down closer to you as he finally let himself cum inside of you, pressing himself as deep inside of you as he could.

“That’s it baby, let it out.” He softly said while he caressed your face. As soon as he gave you permission, you came all over his cock, feeling the hot and sticky liquid drip down your thighs and onto the mat. He refused to pull out, slowly pumping in an out of you. Neteyam loved hearing the sloppy noises, and seeing how his seed spilled out of your cunt the second he did decide to pull out. Your legs went limp, quivering a little afterwards. He kissed you from your neck down to where he left his marks on you, licking over the small bit of pooled blood from the bite he gave your leg. “You did so good, girl. Such a good cum dump, aren’t you? Look at me, babe.” Neteyam said, his hand traveling back to your face and pushing it so you could look at him. All you could muster was a nod, your body feeling tired and used after the endeavor. He smiled, giving you another kiss on the lips. Now it was time for your favorite part, aftercare.

[hoshifighting]

can i request sub!chan with cock praise?👉👈 like, you would say, "i feel so full" and suddenly, he would be begging for you to praise how big or thick he is inside you or something along those lines hihi

sub!chan x cock praise

WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, praising kink in general, big cock, submission x domination, dirty talk, whiny!chan

chan’s always been that guy who’s ardent to please, wanting to do everything right and make sure you’re completely satisfied. he’s got that puppy energy, all wide-eyed and attentive, and when it comes to being in bed, that’s amplified times a hundred. now, add in cock praise, and you’re looking at a completely different side of him. like, chan wants to make sure you’re feeling good—he lives for that, tbh—but deep down there’s a part of him that craves that validation. he needs to know he’s enough for you, that what he’s giving you is everything you want and more. so, when you start talking about how full you feel, how his cock is stretching you out just right? you’ll see it in his eyes, how much that messes with him.

he’d start off all shy about it. he’s not going to outright ask for it, at least not at first. chan’s the type to go all in—thrusting deep inside you, feeling your walls clench around him, and biting his lip to hold back his moans. but when you start saying things like, “god, you feel so good inside me,” or, “you’re filling me up so perfectly, what perfect cock” he’s done. he won’t be able to help the way his body reacts, his hips stuttering for a second, his breath catching in his throat. and you will know when he’s craving more, even if he doesn’t say it right away. but once he hears you say it? really say it, like, “you’re so big, baby, stretching me out so good,” it unlocks something in him. suddenly, he can’t get enough of it. he’s practically begging for you to say more, his voice wobbly, all breathless and wak. “please, tell me more,” he’d whisper, his hips grinding into yours, trying to hit that sweet spot inside you as you tell him exactly how much he’s fucking you up.

his hands are gripping your hips, his forehead resting against yours, and you can see the way he’s trembling, barely holding himself together. “do i feel good? tell me i’m filling you up, please,” he’s pleading, his voice breaking between moans. it’s like he needs the words more than he needs to breathe, and the more you give him, the harder he goes, thrusting into you like he’s got something to prove.

and when you give in, when you really lay it on him—“you’re so fucking thick, baby, stretching me out so good, i can barely take it”���it’s over for him. his head falls back, and he lets out this whiny/pained moan, his hips picking up speed like he’s chasing that high, trying to bury himself even deeper inside you. he’s not even thinking straight anymore, he’s just running on pure instinct, fueled by your words, by the way you’re praising him, telling him how good his cock feels. you’d see this shift in him—his body’s moving, but his brain’s short-circuiting, completely overwhelmed by the fact that you think he’s so big, that he’s the one making you feel this good. it’s like all he wants is to hear more, to keep you talking, keep you telling him exactly how much he’s ruining you with every thrust. he’d be whimpering by the end of it, his voice shaky as he begs for more. “please, say it again, tell me how full you feel, tell me how i’m stretching you,” his words coming out all broken between breaths.

and then, when you’re close, when you’re right on the edge, and you say something like, “i can’t take it, you’re too big, but it feels so good,” that’s it. end of the night. his whole body tenses, his thrusts getting inconsistent, and he’s moaning louder than ever, so caught up that he can hardly think. all he knows is that he’s filling you up, that you’re telling him how good it feels, and he’s doing everything he can to keep that going, to make sure you keep saying it, keep praising him until he’s completely spent.

in those moments, chan’s usually all about you—making sure you’re feeling good, that you’re taken care of. but when it’s about cock praise? suddenly, he’s the one who’s vulnerable, the one who’s craving your approval, your words. and the more you give it to him, the more he melts, the more he wantss, practically unraveling beneath you as he tries to live up to everything you’re saying. he’s the kind of sub who wants to be good for you, but when you start telling him how big he is, how perfect his cock feels inside you, it’s like his brain short-circuits. suddenly, all that confidence he usually has fades, and he’s just a trembling, moaning mess, desperate for more praise, more validation. “please… say it again. tell me how big i am,” his tone full of desperation.

[blxckmassbaby]

Joe Burrow NSFW HC’s

A/N: this is my gift to yall for puttin up with me and my inconsistent writing,(and a late birthday gift for my best friend i love uu @k9iriz )i’ve had writers block for football for a while negl BUT HOPEFULLY WHEN THE SEASON STARTS ILL BE BACK ON MY BS. I MISSED YALL. LETS HAVE SOME FUN!

Right off the bat I just KNOW Joe’s a talker.

“Don’t squeeze me so tight baby,god damn you’re gonna make me cum so quick…fuck.”

“You like that huh? You can feel me can’t you? I know it feels so good I know,baby..”

He LOVES to use his hands so of course he loves fingering you<3

He’s hooked on that feeling…how warm and tight you get when his thick fingers are pumping in and out of your pretty pussy over and over…driving you crazy.

While that hand is occupied he uses the other to wrap around your neck,play with your tits…press his hand on your stomach..(iykyk)

He loves that look on your face when he finds that spot inside you. (better put that towel down lolll)

He loves testing your limits,putting you in all sorts of positions and damn near making you black out with pleasure.

HE’S A EAAATTER

Joe could spend the rest of his life between your legs if he wanted to.

He loves your taste…when you squeeze your thighs around his head so much he has to pin them down while he eats you out.

“Nuh uh baby. Let daddy eat it..you’re okay. You can take it,be my good girl.”

He’ll make you look at him…

“Look down,baby. You see me? See how good you taste on my tongue hm?”

Whenever he does come up for air,he kisses you. Making you taste yourself on his lips.

“Taste good? That’s you,baby.My girl tastes so sweet for me.”

Two words…mutual masturbation.

He loves watching you make yourself feel good,the way you struggle to keep your eyes on him while he touches himself in front of you..but you’re not the only one.

He can get lost in his own pleasure too,when you feel good…he feels soo good.

Whenever you moan a certain way,or say something to him that he really likes he’ll throw his head back,buck his hips into his hand,just completely lose his shit.

He doesn’t have wanna take his eyes off you. He loves to watch you come undone even when he’s not touching you.

“There you go,look at me. You feel good,baby? My girl feel so fucking good? God..cmon,mama…tell daddy how good your pretty pussy feels..”

He loves creampies..fight me on this.

One of the main reasons you’re on the pill is because he can’t control himself,but you love it,and so does he.

He turns into a different person when he fills you up…and when he sees that look in your eyes,when you feel him fill you up…god he just loses it.

When you both cum,if he has the energy to,he’ll keep fucking you,just to fuck his cum even deeper into you.

“yeah…there you go baby..that daddy’s girl..let me fill you up.”

A/N: AHH HAPPY ALMOST KICKOFF YALL. we’re so close to football season im so excited this year’s gonna be a movie. IM SO EXCITED TO HOPEFULLY GET BACK IN THE SWING OF WRITING SOON I MISSED THIS!!

[that1fanficwriter]

If The Hat Fits

Dodge Mason x fem!reader

Summary: Dodge shows you what happens when you wear a cowboy’s hat

Warnings: smut with plot, little bit of a marking kink, no use of y/n, unprotected sex but reader could be assumed to be on bcp.

AN: I finally finished this! It has taken me literal minutes to finish this. This is my first time writing smut so we’ll see how it goes. I’m very open to feedback. I recently got back into Panic so hopefully, everyone will like it; let's just ignore any plot or character inconsistencies. I also have no idea how rodeos or anything like that works.

Even though you had grown up in Texas, you had never heard about what happens if you wear a cowboy's hat. You started dating Dodge shortly after he moved to Carp, and it had been going swimmingly ever since.

Today you were meeting Dodge over at the farm at the edge of town where the rodeo is being held later this afternoon. You had never seen Dodge compete, and you were worried because, living in Texas, you always heard about things like this going awry.

Once you got the field (is it considered a field? arena, maybe?) and parted ways with your sweet cowboy, giving him a god luck kiss, you chose a spot along the fence so that you could get the best view of your man.

Finally, after a little while of waiting, everyone came out for the competition.

~Time Skip because I don't know sports~

After the competition was finished, you patiently waited for everyone to congratulate Dodge before you approached him to give him your own congratulations on his achievement.

"Hey there, cowboy. You did pretty well out there." You say as you meander over to Dodge and wrap your arms around his neck.

"Why, thank you. It always helps to have my good luck charm cheering me on." He bends down to pick you up and spin you around. Once he sets you down, you pull him down to kiss you.

"Should we get going?" You ask.

"Yeah, let me go grab my stuff." He responds. Before he can walk away, you grab the hat from his head and put it on your own. Dodge surprises you and doesn't say anything; he gives you a cheeky smile and walks away. As you lean against the fence, waiting on your phone, you see Ray sauntering over to you out of the corner of your eye.

"What do you want, Ray." You say, groaning, ready for the conversation to be over already.

"I see you're wearin' Dodgey boy's hat." He says with his signature smirk.

"Yeah, and?"

"Don't ya know what happens when you wear a cowboy's hat?"

"No," you say, put off, "would you care to enlighten me?"

"Oh boy, I think that I'll let Dodge clear that up for you since he's coming over this way right now," Ray says before walking away to go torment someone else.

"What did the idiot want?" Dodge asks as he meets you and watches Ray walk away.

"Who knows. Something about what happens when you wear a cowboy's hat." You shrug before grabbing Dodge's hand and walking to the car. While walking, you notice the blush starting to creep up Dodge's neck. "Ok, why are you blushing?" You ask, poking his cheek.

"What? No, I'm not." He deflects.

"Oh yes, you are. I can see it right here. Your ears are turning red." you giggle. "Seriously, what is it."

"Oh, you know, it's just the hat thing."

"Ok, what is the "hat thing," though? Ray wouldn't explain it to me, and I have no idea what it is."

"Really? How have you never heard about it? You have lived in Texas your whole life, right?" He says, turning to you in disbelief.

"Yes! Now would you just tell me already!" You turn to him.

"Sure, let's get in the car first, though, alright?" He says, trying to get you into the car.

You go to the passenger side of the car and get in while Dodge does the same on the driver's side.

"Ok, now spill." You say, facing Dodge.

"I still can't believe you've never heard of this." He laughs. "So, supposedly, if you wear a cowboy's hat, you have to ride the cowboy. You know, the whole “save a horse, ride a cowboy” thing?" He blushes again, running his hand over his face and behind his neck.

"God, that makes so much more sense now." You blush, realizing what this means.

"Exactly. Now that you know, do you want to uphold it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do." You say, taking his hand in yours.

"Well, my sister and mom aren't home today, so do you want to go to my house?"

"Absolutely," you reply, smile beaming off of your face.

Dodge lets go of your hand and begins to drive back to his house as fast as possible, while both of you hope you won't come across any cops and get pulled over. Once you get back to his house Dodge all but drags you out of the car and into the house. As soon as the door closes, you are pressed against it with Dodge at your lips. With passion growing, he continues to kiss you and starts to move the two of you towards his bedroom.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He whispers into your neck as soon as you are in his room and pressed against the door. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” He asks again, just to be sure. (Consent is so sexy)

“Yes, of course,” you breathe, “I want this so bad. I want you.”

Once those words are issued from your lips, it is as if all control Dodge had before is gone. He immediately begins to attack your neck with kisses and love bites.

“Dodge,” you moan, “what’re you doing?”

“If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right and make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.” He replies, making his way down your neck towards your cleavage.

He slowly works his hands up underneath your shirt, feeling the full expanse of your skin and asking permission to take it off. You nod and let out a moan as he leaves a particularly large hickey beneath your collarbone, right where everyone would be able to see. Dodge slowly began to undress you. After breaking your kiss to take your shirt off, Dodge immediately dives back into your lips this time picking you up to set you on his bed. He slowly starts to kiss his way down your body, only stopping to take your bra off and leave more than a few hickeys on your boobs just for him to see. He slowly starts kissing lower this time; kissing all the way down to your belly button but skipping over your shorts to leave love bites on the inside of your thighs. After felling successful in leaving enough marks on you he looks up with is brown doe eyes again.

"I just want to make sure this is still ok with you," he says giving the inside of your thigh one more kiss.

"Yes, absolutely yes," you groan out.

After hearing your need Dodge jumps back up to give your stomach one last kiss before taking your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. After ridding you of any unwanted barriers Dodge takes advantage of the newly exposed skin to leave a few more hickies, once again, only for his view. Before he can get even more carried away you stop him.

“You know, I find it a little unfair that you haven’t taken off any clothes yet.” You point out, pushing yourself up to your elbows, displeased at Dodge’s state of undress, or lack thereof.

“Would you like me to fix that for you, princess? Or would you like to do the honors?” He asks, standing with a shit-eating grin. You blush in response.

"I would absolutely like to do the honors," you reply, pushing yourself to kneel on the bed. Slowly you start to kiss him again while you unbutton his shirt. Once you get the shirt all the way unbuttoned you push it off of his broad shoulder and down his arms without breaking the kiss. Then you slowly start kissing your way down his body, making sure to leave a few of your own marks in return. Once you get down to his perfectly chiseled v-line you decide to leave Dodge a group of hickeys in the shape of your initial.

"What are you doing?" Dodge questions, peering down.

"Nothing," you giggle, "just leaving you a little surprise."

Dodge just nods as you slowly start unbuttoning his jeans and pull them down. Once his pants and boxers are kicked off by his feet Dodge pulls you back up into another heated hiss.

"Baby, as much as I would love for you to suck me off right now, I think I might burst if I don't get into your cunt right now and besides, you need to prove that you can wear my hat," he whispers into your ear. He pulls back from the kiss and guides you back on to the bed and sits against the headboard. You crawl up the bed to straddle Dodge, leaning in again to kiss him as you start to grind on top of his throbbing member.

"Ugh," he moans, "you're already so wet for me. Practically drenching my cock and I've barely even done anything."

"What can I say, I love to reward my brave cowboy after every rodeo," you whisper, leaving a hickey near his pulse point. You make your way back up to his lips again while taking his throbbing member in your hand and sliding it up with your throbbing cunt. Slowly sinking down onto him you take a moment to adjust to how long his cock is. Both of you sighing as you sheath his full member inside of you and you feel the pressure turn into pleasure. Once you feel ready you start to move, grinding back and forth on Dodge’s dick.

“Ugh,” Dodge grunts out, “sweetheart you feel so good, so warm and soft around me. I’m not sure how long I’m going to last.”

“Dodge, baby, I can feel you so deep inside of me.” you reply, taking his hand from your hip to put it on your stomach so he can feel the slight bump his cock is making. Dodge moans and throws his head back in reaction, giving you the perfect opportunity to keep littering his neck and chest with kisses as you grind onto his cock.

Eventually, your doting boyfriend can tell that your legs are getting tired despite that fact that you are close to coming. He grips your hips with a renewed fervor and helps you alternate grinding with bouncing on his cock. As Dodge starts to get closer you feel his hand tighten on your hips and he buries his head in your neck. You feel the cusp of your orgasm start to approach and you gasp out.

“Yes! Dodge! Right there!” You say, out of breath as your orgasm washes over you. You feel Dodge’s movements still as he pulls you closer and releases inside of you.

“I love you so much sweets,” he moans into your ear, “fuck, that was so good.”

“Well I guess you have Ray to thank for that.” You giggle, placing a few more nips along the expanse of his neck.

“Shut up,” he says as he flips the two of you over and pins your hands above your head. “I don’t know about you, but I think I need to return the favor.” He pushes his already hard cock back into your pussy, wet with arousal and the mixing fluids of your previous orgasms.

“So did I prove that I can wear your hat? Did I successfully save a horse?” You tease in between moans.

Of course you did, and I had no doubt you would be anything less than capable.” Dodge moans out, continuing to languidly thrust into you. “In fact, I think you should wear my hat to school tomorrow and show if these marks so everyone knows that you’re my girl.” He says, leaving a new string of love bites across the top of your cleavage.

“Ah! Dodge!” You giggle, pushing his head away. “Stop it, now you’re just tickling me. Besides, are you sure we can handle the ribbing from Ray; not to mention that then the judges in panic will know how down bad you are for me. Wouldn’t want them using it against you.” You point out as Dodge stills inside of you.

“Babygirl, I have wanted to scream my love for you from the rooftops ever since we started dating. I want every guy in the state of Texas, hell, the world to know that you are taken by me; that we’re together until the end of time.” Dodge says, placing a gentle had on your cheek and staring into your eyes.

“Oh Dodge,” you exclaim, “you mean everything to me, I don’t know what I’d be without you.” You throw your arms around him and pull him into a kiss, subtly moving your hips again to encourage Dodge to start thrusting again.

He takes the signal and quickly find the right tempo for the both of you. Snaking an arm between your bodies he starts rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, giving you the perfect stimulation to bring you to the precipice quicker than before. You pull him closer to you, your nails leaving marks along his back as you tumble over the edge. Dodge makes sure to cum at the same time as you and lets his body weight rest in too of you once you both are spent.

“Why don’t I get you cleaned up and make some snack so we can have a night in tonight. My mom and Dana are out of town for one of her appointments so you could stay the night and I could take you to school tomorrow.” Dodge suggests, slowly pulling out of you and moseying over to the bathroom.

“That sounds perfect,” you reply, turning over to face him. “I love you, you know that?”

“Of course I do,” he replies, coming back with a warm washcloth, “I know because I love you with every fiber of my being. Now get comfy because I’ll be right back with snack and my laptop so we can watch our show.” Dodge disappears into the hallway and presumably into the kitchen to make a snack. You fluff the pillows behind yourself and nestle yourself down in the covers, content to wait for your adorning boyfriend to come back so you can cuddle into his side and relax for the evening.

A/N: Not proofread yet. Please let me know how my smut writing is and send me more ideas of what to write!

[ajokeformur-ray]

The breeze seems to whisper 'I love you' // Astarion x gn!reader / Tav

This is my first Astarion fic so I really hope I bring him justice; he deserves that and everything else which is good in life. It took me three days in total to fall head over heels for him, and this piece is dedicated to @ace-tarion for being such a sweetheart in this, as in everything. I love you, dude!❤️

I haven't played BG3, I know maybe 80% of the plot (tadpoles in brain = bad = travel to Baldur's Gate), I've watched a ton of Astarion clips, so apologies for any inaccuracies or inconsistencies. I'm just here for Astarion (though I'd love to play BG3, I don't have any technology capable of running it💔).

Content: You/Tav x Astarion (established relationship), canonical past for Astarion is hinted at and laced within narrative, cuddles, animals referred to as 'snacks' within mentions of Astarion (only a mention; no actual description of animal-feeding/mentions of anything pertaining to animals being fed on).

Summary: Night-time falls, your heart sinks into your stomach as surely as your body sinks into your bedroll, and you want cuddles from Astarion.

Word count: 1, 624.

I am accepting requests for Astarion ❤️ no smut and no pregnancy/birth/kids!!

You lay on the cold, hard ground. The earth is unforgiving, soaking up the day's sweat without offering any kind of reprieve. Stones and hard clumps of dirt dig into your back through the bedroll, the wind is slightly too cold and it penetrates your thin blanket, haphazardly thrown over you in an attempt to ward off the elements.

Everyone has a tent, except you, and you make it a point to lay as close to the fire as you can on the nights Astarion is out hunting; it wouldn't do to help yourself to his tent. He keeps his tent away from the others, though still adhering to the semi-circle layout chosen by the others around the campfire. He would not mind you letting yourself in to his tent, he would likely welcome returning to you there, and yet you cannot justify it even to yourself.

After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserves every ounce of privacy and the security of knowing his tent is his own.

You sit up just enough to shuffle yourself closer to the fire, curling inwards as a shiver wracks your body. It isn't cold, necessarily, but your temperature is not conducive to a restful sleep. You lay on your back, gazing up at the stars which punctuate the sky, breaking up the inky black and blues with pinpricks of white, yellow, and some dull spots of grey from the stars which died many eons ago and are now fading from the sky.

You promise yourself you'll try to remember their placement in the sky.

Despite the best of intentions, you know that you won't.

Your vision goes blurry at the edges as you continue staring up at the night sky, looking for any constellations you recognise by way of finding yourself a bedtime story to recount as you try to fall asleep. The leaves on the trees sway gently in the breeze, and your mind wanders, as it so often does, to Astarion. Your sweet vampire, who simultaneously breaks your heart and put it back together in the same moment every time you uncover more of who he is, more of his past.

Oh, but you love him.

Of its own accord does your body take a long, deep breath in, your heart sinking into your stomach as surely as your body melts into the bedroll. All of your thoughts of Astarion and all of your feelings for him are safe inside yourself, and they serve you now in warming you from the inside out.

Your eyes slide closed, and if you press your forehead closer into your blanket, you can almost tell yourself that you can feel Astarion lying down beside you, you can smell bergamot and feel his silver hair tickle your cheeks, you can feel his fingers intertwined with yours, your legs tangled together, his crimson eyes upon your face so intently fixed like he's scared to blink in case you disappear before his eyes, leaving him clutching only the cold night air, his equally cold body pressed against every line of yours...

You smile to yourself and burrow deeper into your blanket, feeling sleepier, warmer and closer to your rest by the second. Thoughts of Astarion flood your mind and you curl up tighter, as if to keep all these thoughts right where they are. You know if you open your eyes that you'll be alone; you know not where Astarion is this night, but you know he is trying to sate his hunger with the snacks which live in the forest.

So you keep your eyes shut.

As you allow yourself to slip further into your threshold consciousness, you wonder what Astarion would say to you if he returned at this very moment...

"Hello, sweet. Gods, you are beautiful."

You smile again and squeeze your blanket ever tighter to you. Yes, he would probably say something like -

Wait.

Wait.

Was that - ?

With great caution do you open your eyes, ready to slam them shut again once you see that Astarion isn't there, that he didn't just speak to you. But instead of the cold hard truth slamming into you, flowers bloom in your heart because Astarion is here, looming over you, his silver curls seeming to be glowing in the soft moonlight. His crimson eyes seem black, his charming smirk soft at the edges as he gazes down at you with obvious fondness, vulnerable such as it is.

Of all the stars above me, this one's the prettiest, you think to yourself, and you open your eyes wider to better enjoy the view.

Astarion's smirk melts until it becomes a smile as he kneels down beside you, one of his arms reaching out to brush a leaf away from your face. His fingers ghost across your skin, and you shiver. "Thank you, darling. I know I'm beautiful. Not enough people mention it." His joke fades into vulnerability, as it so often does around you.

But it is no matter. You always meet him where he is, and right now it is no exception.

You smile at Astarion, all of the love for him shining in your eyes until they look like molten galaxies, and he swears he feels his heart, which stopped working centuries ago, skip a beat. You are unguarded where you lay in your threshold consciousness, not embarrassed to have spoke aloud your thoughts, and Astarion wonders if the old saying, that love makes fools of people, is true. You lay at the foot of a vampire, at the foot of a predator, smiling at him, physically and emotionally vulnerable, completely unguarded. Most others at the camp are asleep, Astarion can hear, and yet here you are...

Wait. Why are you awake?

"Darling," Astarion's voice is a hush and you strain your ears to be able to hear him. He bends closer to you to accommodate, anticipating your needs before you fully register them yourself, "Why aren't you sleeping? No harm shall befall you when I'm here." Long ago, he had sought your protection, but now he wanted you both to be safe. If this is how the mighty fall, then Astarion must admit that he is happy he lost his balance. He quite likes the view from down here.

You shake your head and shuffle closer still, unable to get close enough to your most beloved vampire. "Can't sleep without you." I just want to be held.

Oh, help him, but this is devastating in its simplicity. His undead heart bleeds and words have brought Astarion to the point where they run dry. Instead, he stands, and reaches a hand out to you. The message is clear - he wants you to accompany him to his tent, he wants to carve a piece of heaven out with you amongst all the chaos unleashed, he wants to hold and to be held.

Astarion just wants you, and who are you to deny him?

One of your hands slips into his while the other pulls the blanket away from you and Astarion's smile widens as he effortlessly pulls you up to stand beside him. You bend to scoop up your bedroll, and follow Astarion into your tent. The door flap flutters in the wind as Astarion releases it, and it settles in place like a butterfly finding a flower.

You find yourselves easily, your bedroll dumped next to Astarion's, pushed up close until his bedroll becomes a double. It's a well established routine for the two of you, with you spending more nights here than you don't. You never enter his tent if he isn't here, and you certainly never come in without his permission. One day, Astarion will find the words to convey his appreciation for your concern, but until then, he will remind you at every chance he finds that you are always welcome. He finds it greatly ironic that you seek permission to enter space and he, a vampire, does not. He knows he is welcome, wanted, cherished, loved.

It took some work for the both of you to get here, but his months with you are the counterweight to the hell he escaped from.

He'll never be able to thank you enough, he has no idea what he is doing, but perhaps this is a start.

Somehow, through the fuzziness of denied sleep, you end up back in bed, your blanket around you and Astarion's still chest under your head. He lays beneath you like he is patiently waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, and you take the opportunity to wind both of your arms around his waist and squeeze, pulling yourself up just enough to be able to bury your face in his neck. One of your legs slips between his, anchoring the two of you together.

Slowly, like he's afraid to move too quickly in case you disappear within his grasp and leave Astarion holding nothing but the cold empty night air, his hands settle upon your back and a sigh which seems to come from deep within him spells peace for the both of you. "This is nice," Astarion's voice rumbles through your ear and you press yourself ever closer to him, unable to get close enough. Your arms constrict around him again and you feel yourself smile as all those sleepy dreams you were having earlier are now here, beneath you, wrapped around you. As you hold on tighter, so too does Astarion, until the two of you are so completely intertwined that the elements cannot reach you. He has no body temperature and yet you are the comfiest and the warmest you have ever been.

Safe.

This time, Astarion doesn't tell you that you accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud.