#i thought i could somehow love you so much that death wouldn’t touch you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

e-nonsense · 3 months ago

Note

Hey sis, can I request a Dahlia with burlap and maybe some lace 🤭

Jason Todd X reader where reader is Selina Kyles protege and a vigilante, her superhero name is Kitten.

They had a rivalry going back to Jason's Robin days, flirted like crazy on patrol, started dating in secret and reunite after his death.

You can choose how this goes, your writing is addictive to read, never stop doing what your doing.

Have a good day, and congratulations for 2000 followers! 💓

DON’T YOU LOVE ME STILL?

pairing. jason todd x fem!reader

warnings. smut

a/n. thank you

“tsk tsk, kitty.”

he circled you like an animal would their prey, the red hood had been chasing you for months. he’d get meaner every time you slipped from his grip but somehow he knew you.

your name, your thieving patterns, the way you flirted, everything.

“what now? i haven’t done anything wrong have i?”

you retorted, eyeing his figure. he was a big guy, you’d give him that much, big and clearly very strong. if you weren’t so annoyed at him you’d probably try to sleep with him.

“no?”

“mhm, i’ve been a good girl, Hood.”

jason loved the way you spoke to him, the teasing flirt in you voice. he knew he should’ve told you by now, that it’s him. your jason was home, but he wasn’t your jason now was he? no.

he was different, twisted, dirtied, he had blood on his hands. blood your jason would’ve never spilled in the first place.

“i don’t think stealing is classed as being a good girl, doll.”

you hated how much you liked hearing him call you that, you’re not sure when he had gotten closer but now he was towering over you. you liked that too though, how big he was in comparison to you.

he could dwarf you twice over. snap you in half without a thought, fuck imagine how he’d be in bed— no. back on track. you refused to go down that road.

“stealing to survive isn’t bad, is it?”

“you wouldn’t have to do any of that if you just took my offer.”

his offer. join him, not fighting on the streets but jason knew how well you could take down an organisation. how good you were at infiltrating. he needed that sort of skill if he was going to burn black mask to the ground.

“come on, baby doll. i’ll take care of you.”

you scoffed, turned your head away from him and he couldn’t help it then.

“don’t you love me still?” he asked, head tilting to the side as he watched you, stepping closer to tilt your head back up at him. “i know i was gone for six years—”

“jason.”

he had to give it you. you were so much smarter than anyone would give you credit for.

“that’s me, pretty.”

he loved the tremble of your lips as he pulled his helmet off, tossing it to the side as he revealed his face to you. even behind all those scars you’d know him anywhere.

your hands moved to cup his face immediately, eyes darting across his features. when had his eyes turned that shade of blue, it was bordering green now but they were just as beautiful as you remembered.

“you’re here… how?”

his eyes close as he leans into your touch, leaning his head down so you can hold him without the stretch.

“i’ll tell you another time, baby. i promise, right now i need you.”

his eyes open again and your stomach flutters at the way he looks at you, hungry and wanting. as if he’d waited those six years for this exact moment.

“can i have you?”

“you never have to ask that.”

he doesn’t waste a second, pressing you against a wall. and you’re reminded about the size difference between the two of you again. how’d he get so big?

he seems to have sensed your thoughts because he grins smugly, “like what you see, baby?”

“hm? you like being so much smaller than me that i have to lift you up so you can be face to face with me?” as if to emphasise his point he does just that, lifting you up and pressing your back against the wall.

you wrap your legs around his hips when his hands move to hold your ass, keeping you up by holding under.

“you changed.” you note aloud, eyes running down his upper body, your finger trailing down his chest.

“good or bad?”

“i like it.”

he smiles genuinely, playfully squeezing your ass as he rests his fore head against yours. “i missed you, baby. all those years gone, you were the only thing i remembered clearly.”

he kissed at your neck, whispering into your ear. his teeth scraped your neck. his kisses got more eager, needy and then his lips were on yours.

one of his hands had moved to your front to undo the zipper that ran over your chest. he knew how naked you’d be under the suit, your suit left no room for under garments.

he pawed at your breasts the second they were free before walking you through the set of emergency fire doors, he’d chosen this rooftop on purpose. he lived in this building.

he broke the kiss to walk the two of you down the stairs and onto his floor, you occupied yourself with leaving a series of pretty pink and purple marks on his neck. twisting your head so you could leave one on his adam’s apple too.

he dumped you on his bed, watching the way you bounced on the mattress before pulling off your suit. he did the same, tearing off his uniform, tossing it around the room before meeting you on the bed right after you tossed your domino mask aside.

your hands moved to pull the pair of cat ears atop of your head off but he stopped you. “keep ‘em on f’me.”

you nodded obediently and he couldn’t help but tease. “so snarky earlier, doll. what happened?”

“shut up and fuck me.” you scoffed, spreading you legs open for him.

his eyes dropped to your pussy, glistening in the moonlit room. he eyed you with no shame and you did the same. you mouth watering at the sight of his cock, you weren’t sure it would fit in you, something of that size

his hand moved to prepare you but you shook your head, “please jay. i don’t wanna wait.”

how could he say no when you asked so prettily. lining himself up with your entrance he pushed his tip through with a groan, head falling forward as yours fell back.

his hands kept your thighs spread open for him, “nearly half way, baby. you can do it, good girl.”

you whined at the stretch, he was so big. so big everywhere, his arms, his thighs, his hands, broad shoulder and chest, his cock.

finally he stopped pushing in, filling you all the way up. he waited, giving you time to adjust to his monstrous size. he laid on top of you, calmly breathing, giving you a sense of peace in the middle of all this before you tapped his bicep. “you can move.” you murmur to him.

he nods, pulling out most of the ways until the head of his cock is the only thing inside you before pushing back in, slowly to ease you around him.

his pace quickens over time, he fucks you faster with each thrust. soon he’s plowing into you, your knees hooked over his shoulders so he can angle himself deeper in you.

every time he fucks himself back into you, your body jolts as if you’re trying to get away from him, your thighs quiver. and he’d be concerned about your crying if you weren’t moaning his name like a prayer and asking for more.

“yeah? you like that, baby?” he coos, though his voice isn’t as smooth as intended, its rough and more like a growl. “you’re mine again, aren’t you?”

“yes yes yes.” you chant, nails scratching down his chest. “yours, all yours. jay, ‘m gonna—”

“i know, baby. you gonna cum f’me?”

you nod, “yes, please jay. can i?”

“can you what, doll? use your words, tell me what you want.”

“can i cum? please jay, i wanna—”

“cum for me, doll. show me how good you can be for me, show me and i’ll give you more.”

and you do, you come on his cock and he groans before he comes too, fucking you through it. slowing down when you ask him to because the overstimulation burns.

he kisses your cheek, nuzzling against it. “i missed you.” he hears you mumble, your arms wrap around his neck as he turns you over to lay on top of him, his softening cock still inside you.

“i missed you too, baby.”

he can feel your heart thumping in your chest as you eyes close. “you’ll stay?” you ask, despite this being his apartment.

“i’m never leaving you again.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #[📮] asks #2k followers celebration #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #enzo writes [📝]

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actiniumwrites · 6 months ago

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love amidst loss

synopsis: in the height of the moment, you nearly die and they can’t deal with the thought of losing you

characters: baizhu, scaramouche, kazuha, and cyno x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, near death accidents, not proofread (sorry)

notes: uh so i wrote this a while ago and didn’t finish it up until recently, so sorry of this contains some errors or if any of the game lore has changed or been updated and doesn’t match what i wrote :) lyney was also supposed to be in this but i gave up on his part…sorry 😭

Baizhu:

“Qiqi. Bandages, now!” Baizhu yells desperately. Your heart rate was lowering by the second, while his was rising exponentially.

Qiqi slowly passes the small bin of various bandages to the doctor, “Yes, Dr. Baizhu.”

He can feel his hands shaking, tremoring as they work as fast as they can to close up all your wounds. Even throughout all his strange adventures and experiments attempting to achieve immortality, he’s never felt more afraid and anxious than in this moment. He could care less about hurting himself, but you? You meant the world to him.

“Baizhu…?” your eyes flutter open weakly while your elbows move behind you to sit up. A speedy hand pushes you back down in an instant.

“No, don’t,” Baizhu says, his heart beating out of his chest at the sight of your consciousness, “you shouldn’t be awake right now. I haven’t finished operating.”

Your hands feel fragile and your breathing is weak, but somehow you’re able to reach into your pocket and pull out a small bottle. It’s halfway full and a gentle lavender in color. It’s the concoction he had given you a while ago, in case of emergencies — an elixir of sorts.

“What about this?” you drop it into his hands. He shivers against your touch. What if this is the last time he’ll get to feel it?

Baizhu adjusts his glasses, analyzing the bottle in this hand, “Is this…? You still have this?”

You nod gently, careful not to move too much, “I saved what was left of it. I know you said you couldn’t make anymore, so I used it sparingly. Is it enough?”

Baizhu quickly prepares a bowl and some other ingredients to mix it with, “Yes, of course. I’ll make it worth a thousand lives over, I promise.”

A tender smile pulls at your lips while life beats back into your heart. Baizhu sighs of relief, resting his elbow against the edge of your bed with his pinky outstretched, “Please don’t scare me like that again.”

Your pinky wraps weakly around his, “Promise.”

Scaramouche:

“What’s going to happen to them?” Scaramouche presses, leaning by the side of the bed Nahida had prepared for you.

Eagerly, he places his hand in yours with a tight so grip you’d think he was scared. And he is. Scaramouche is terrified out of his mind. “You idiot,” he mumbles against your hand, “why would you jump into danger for me?”

Your eyes are shut tightly and your skin is so cold. He hates the way it feels like he’s going to lose you at any second, despite Nahida reassuring him countless times he wouldn’t. He still has so much love to give you. And god, what if he never gets to admit that to you? To finally say that he loves you out loud?

His eyebrows furrow and his lips fall into a sad frown. Amidst it all, a weak tone that he can’t be bothered to disguise falls from his mouth, “Please just tell me they’ll be okay?”

Nahida fights the urge to smile as she stands by the doorway of the room, ready to leave and give you both space. She nods firmly, “I promise you they’ll be okay. You have nothing to worry about.”

He nods back silently, loosening his grip a bit on your hand but not quite letting you go. And as soon as the archon slips away from the room, a small and vulnerable, “I love you,” falls from his lips.

And he swears he feels your hand grip his back a little tighter when he does.

Kazuha:

“Man, I drank wayyyy too much,” Kazuha slurs his words as he eyes begin to droop shut. You push his shoulder lightly to keep him conscious, a small laugh echoes amidst the waves of the ocean.

You feel it too — the buzz of the alcohol. The entire crew of the Alcor had been celebrating all night with big lights, tons of food, and an endless supply of drinks. Kazuha and you had already had more than enough, and it wasn’t until Beidou forced you guys to sit out for awhile that you realized just how much you had drank.

As you both sit on the edge of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge, Kazuha nudges you back. Only, it’s a little too forceful and you aren’t sober enough to stop yourself from sliding off. Desperately you reach for the wooden rails, but it isn’t enough to save you as you fall into the icy water below with a terrifying scream.

The water thrashes around you as you so eagerly attempt to stay afloat despite your lack of swimming skills. “Kazuha!” you scream before the water enters your mouth and begins to send you under.

In an instant he dives in, both of you now sobered up and well aware of the fact that a moment of fun had just turned darkly serious. All he can think about his how stupid he was for forgetting you can’t swim that well and that he shouldn’t have pushed you, even if it was a joke.

Kazuha finds you quickly and pulls you up fast. By the time he does, the rest of the crew joins around and helps you both back up and onto the boat.

His heart pounds a million miles per second as he watches you painfully cough out a bunch of water. Your skin is freezing to the touch and there are even a few small tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” Kazuha moves to hold your hand tightly, not only to comfort you, but also himself, “you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You only nod and lean back against the wood of the boat. He joins you quickly and you take it as a sign to rest your head against him. Gentle, but deep breathes leave his chest periodically and he can’t help but feel shaky all over. Kazuha had lost so many people in his life, and he’d have no idea what to do with himself if he lost you too.

“You won’t,” you whisper against his chest.

“Huh? Did I say that out loud?” Kazuha’s bright red eyes widen as they turn towards your resting figure.

You smile gently, “No, but I know what you’re thinking. You won’t lose me. I won’t let you.”

Kazuha hums contently to himself. He wouldn’t let himself lose you either.

Cyno:

“Is it just me or does something seem off?” you pause quickly, halting your footsteps at the slightest rumble of the complex structure you and Cyno had wandered into. You draw your sword quickly while Cyno swings his polearm from around his back.

His garnet eyes dart around the various hallways and statues, scowling as he comes to a realization, “It must’ve been those eremites we ran into earlier. I should have known they weren’t just ‘camping out.’”

Neither of you move as the structure continues to shake. Panicked, your arm grabs onto his as your eyes widen, “What do we do? If we don’t get out of here in time, this whole thing is gonna collapse!”

“Calm down!” Cyno shouts over the crashing sounds of rocks and statues slamming against the floor, “I’ll get us out of here!”

Within seconds later, a giant head of a statue falls from above and crashes just feet away. It happens so fast you lose your balance, feet stumbling as your arm slams against the wall. Suddenly, the panel you’re standing on slides away and sends you flying downward.

“No!” Cyno yells desperately, grabbing your arm just in time before you can fall hundreds of feet to your death.

Your hand barely holds on as you gasp, “I can’t hold on, Cyno! I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to touch anything.”

His eyes widen in fear as you continue to speak. It’s the most scared you’ve ever seen him, but he can’t let you die. Not yet. “Don’t let go, please!” His arms hurt as he struggles to hold on, just barely keeping his balance against the sand covered floor, “I’m not going to let you fall.”

“I’m sorry,” you continue to apologize, eyes welling with panicked tears. Despite it sounding like a confession before death, you continue to hold on as best you can.

As if the dendro archon could hear both your pleas, the shaking stops suddenly. Cyno’s head shoots up and his arm grips your hand even tighter. With all the strength he can possibly muster, he pulls you up to safety.

Unable to comprehend what just happened, you quietly sob and fall against his chest. Cyno doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you as tightly as possible. Afraid that if he didn’t, you’d fall again and he’d lose you for good.

“Are you…are you alright?” He mumbles against the crook of your neck.

You nod silently in response, “I’m okay.”

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missnightshade · 27 days ago

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❝ THREE OF SWORDS ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request? No no. But I promise I'll work on some requests soon.

Summary: Agatha is no stranger to pain and loss. Yet, somehow, even the thought of losing you is too much to bear.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Sickness. Mentions of death (not Rio this time). English not being my first language. Poor ending skills.

Word count: 1.1K.

The Three of Swords:

Grief, heartbreak, and sorrow.

Agatha Harkness was a totem of pain. Most wouldn’t know or believe it to be true. The Witches community could only measure her to their own rules and deception. She was a killer. A heartless, powerful and unruly woman, born to no good deeds.

But for a green eyed, younger witch, she was everything but a bad person.

You would always be reminded of a ghost memory of a smiling Nicholas, laughing in a field of dandelions as his mother chased him. Agatha was carefree then. Her previous Coven a memory left behind and her actions justified by the sweet smile little Nicky would give her.

Agatha never told the full deal with her son’s existence till he was gone while the other woman, still getting to know the Harkness witch, held her by Nicky's grave. It was now lost somewhere in the forests of Massachusetts, long gone and rusted, but his passing held a strong place in her heart still.

Centuries might pass, but it was certain that nothing would hurt her more than that. Not her mother’s hate. Not her trial by the people who she was raised with. Not the many people she lost along the way.

But one day, as you fell sick to the bed, something as strong as her son’s death came close to hurting her.

You laid there, the same green eyes tired as something twisted your health. As Agatha cared for you in the coziness of her newfound house in Westview, you grumbled as the whole contents of your stomach flooded from your mouth into the bucked Agatha held close to you. Her soup, your favorite, completely gone now.

“Doll..we should see a doctor. You haven’t left the bed for three days.” She argued, trying to fix your hair behind the left ear.

A laugh scaped you as your hands, damp and cold, grasped at her touch to make it last. Agatha’s fingers stayed there, slowly moving to touch your right cheek.

“I am a witch, love, much like you. Doctors will do me no good.”

She ruffled, but as her hands felt the hotness that irradiated from your skin, her eyes roamed over the pale face in front of her. Agatha’s thoughts were much like a fortress in the night. Hidden. Protected. But not for you. She felt at ease by your side after so many years. Trust was the one thing only you could give her. And then, as you saw her eyes glistening under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her mind presented itself like an open book.

She feared for your health. The fever and weakness of your body reminded her so much of her last night with Nicholas. Nothing would hurt as much as it did…but losing you to the same fate as him was painful. A pain that not even with all her sorrows and heartbreaks, she was ready to go through again.

“Aggy…” You whispered and when your sweet tone scaped weekly, the bucket was left in the floor as she tried to scape your gaze so the tears rolling down her cheeks wouldn’t be seen. “Love, look at me.”

The weak request acted like knife to her fragile heart. Agatha was tough on the outside, but not at all on the inside. Her gaze softened as her eyes, glazed and red, found yours. You reached out even with your whole body begging for some rest, and without any complaints, she quickly found her place in the bed you shared. She needed comforting, but her body was the one to hold yours. Your lips found their way to her collarbone with sweet kisses untill you reached her face. You nuzzled her cheek, hand gently holding her face to bring her to face you in the comfort of the bubble you both shared. Agatha sniffled, softly tightening her hold to your as if to stop you from fading away. Understanding her needs, you pressed flushed to her, breathing deeply.

“I’m here, my love. And I am not going anywhere.” You reassured. Agatha opened her eyes, gazing at you from the few centimeters between you both.

“You’re so sick, Doll. It worries me that you…you will…”

“Go meet him?”

The way your words stung left her breathless. Agatha had a difficult time speaking up about Nicholas even since. But while she failed, you didn’t. It was important for her to still mention him. To treat him like he deserved: an important part of her that, although painful, was beautiful.

She nodded, and you simply smiled.

“If I was to meet him…know that he would be loved even there.” Her fearful eyes met yours again, but you continued. “But I am not to be dead now. I’m just simply ill. It shall pass. Like everything. Trust me on this one, baby. I’m going to be just fine.”

Agatha breathed out shakily, not noticing how much it affected her.

“I cannot lose you too.”

“You won’t. Ever.”

[ . . . ]

As the morning came, the energy shared between the two seemed to act like a love spell. The curing type rather than the bonding one. Stirring awake, the warmth of Agatha’s arms around your body was missing. You could wait and rest, but the ache and the dizziness were pretty much gone.

You raised, brushed your teeth even, and managed to find a messy haired Agatha quietly moving around the kitchen. She seemed busy with a tea in her hand and potion tools all over the place as something boiled in her ironed cauldron. As she looked up at your figure, her tea was almost spilled all over the countertop as she rushed to your side.

“Doll, what are you doing up?” she touched you, analyzing your whole state as you laughed softly.

“I felt better, so I came down for breakfast. “ You gathered her euphoric hands to kiss her knuckles. “But you…what are you doing?”

Agatha looked over her work station for a minute before going back to you.

“I had a crazy dream-memory about a potion that I used to make for Nicky so he could feel better. I thought it may work better for you.” Her voice trailed behind her thoughts. “You feel better?”

Softly, your hugged her neck with your arms gently bringing her closer.

“Yeah. Not a hundred percent, but much better.”

She breathed out, relived. But even so, she gently walked with you closer to one sip of the potion already ready for you.

“Still. Take this. Can’t have you feeling worse again.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered.

“Only because I love you.”

As you chugged down the contents of the cup, Agatha observed you from her place at your side, fingers gently stroking your waist. Seeing the color back to your pretty features calmed her chaotic mind, and she was reminded once again how important you were to her. When the potion was done, she pulled you closer, kissing every bit of skin that you showed.

“I love you more, stubborn girl.”

You were going to get better. You wouldn't be her sorrow.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha coven of chaos

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inosukijiro · 4 months ago

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𝗖𝗨𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ its late at night and giyuu feels safe in your arms.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. i just want to tuck him into bed so bad and give him lil forehead kisses. i won’t stop saying it I LOVE THIS MAN 🗣️🗣️.

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. AHH IM SORRYYY ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ PLS i went on vacation and got the covid,, it was SO bad i couldn’t function. buuuut moving on — i’ve said it before but ill say it again, thank you soo much for all the love and support ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ seriously, all the likes and reblogs have me very humble. i only ever write for myself so seeing you all enjoy my little stories make me so happy !!

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluffy fluff. cuddles! probably v short, and v bad omg. gender-neutral reader. giyuu-centric. assumed but not mentioned, modern reader in kny. crochet mention ah! 0.9k words.

It always starts like this when Giyuu can’t think straight. His brain is fuzzy and worn out from the day. He often wonders how he gets into these positions, but he’s aware that you just know him too well. Probably because you do know him better than he knows himself.

He always thinks about the time before it became you and him. Where the thought itched at his brain constantly. He fantasized about it. It was so hard not to in every waking moment, he even wondered if it was going to be the death of him.

But here he was, nose buried in the crevice of your neck, laying onto you just enough that he didn’t crush you; but you’d never complain if he did. His free arm wrapped around your midsection just enough to allow his hand to grip your side. The pads of his fingers barely dig into your skin. You could probably feel the tension in his body, his hands are firm and rigid against you. Perhaps he’s just a bit nervous you’d disappear if he didn’t hold onto you tight enough. He might apologize for that, or the fact that his hair is definitely in your face.

Oh, but you might giggle. He can hear it. It’s soft and light. You're so amused by him sometimes. You might call him silly, or you might not say anything at all. You might give the sensitive part of his scalp a good scratch to shut him up. You might, and you always do. The feeling of your nails dig into his head makes him squeak. The way your fingers brush against the strands of his hair. It’s heavenly. He buries his head deeper because he’s so embarrassed. His face is hot, and after all this time he’s still so touched-starved. The smallest bit of your attention destroys any functioning brain cells he has left.

It’s just so good being in your arms. It’s just as good as when you're in his. It’s rare, but when that happens he loves the weight of you on top of him. It grounds him back down to earth. And you’re so cute. Somehow you always end up holding his hand, holding it close to your chest and nuzzling yourself against him more. He can’t get over that you want to be around him as much as he wants to be around you.

Giyuu lets out a sigh in contentment.

He’s so tired but he’s so excited. It’s not his fault that he views you as perfection and it’s also not his fault for taking advantage of the attention you desperately want to give him. You’re so generous, and Giyuu had been looking forward to this for days. His mission had been taking too long for his liking and he wondered if this was some sick torment the universe enjoyed toying at him with. All he wanted was to be at his estate, with you.

But you were such a night owl and that was something that Giyuu found out pretty quick. You spent more time awake in his presence than he did with you. Giyuu thinks, and he wouldn’t be wrong, that you try to savor as much time as you can with him. It’s true, you wouldn’t deny it. But you had sleeping problems long before being with Giyuu; though, it makes him feel guilty that he somehow makes it worse.

You were crocheting something, as always, trying to tire yourself out mentally. Your hands working on the project were raised just above his face, and your elbow could be found resting against his upper back. It was so soothing, the way he could feel you working your hook in and out of the stitches. And every so often a stray piece of yarn might’ve brushed against his cheek or nose, tickling him ever so slightly.

It felt nice. The way you had him caged in your arms. He felt so protected and Giyuu couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe.

He doesn’t know what you’re making; but he’s sure whatever it is will be perfect.

One day he’d get you to sleep though. Yes, he’d get you to drift off so peacefully and do the same to bring you just as much comfort that you do for him. He’d play with your hair. He knows you’d like that. He can almost see it now. The cute noises you’d make and the content, sleepy sigh you’d give as he has you wrapped up in his arms.

He’s in and out of sleep now, drifting off for a few minutes at a time. But he really can’t stay awake anymore. Even though he really wants to. He feels you put your crochet things to the side. However, he barely registers the mumble under your breath when the metal hook makes a ‘TINK’ sound when it’s placed.

It wasn’t too loud but it was too loud for you. You apologize, softly whispering to him but honestly, Giyuu doesn’t know what for. It didn’t disturb him, though he doesn’t worry too much about it when you give a little kiss on his forehead.

He snuggles closer, if that is even possible at this point. He’s on auto pilot as you bring the covers up more over the both of you. You tuck the material right up near his chin and the only thought he has is how cruel it was to make him get up tomorrow morning. Maybe you give him a few more kisses. They’re delicate and you even give him a gentle squeeze as you bring your arms around him; a small ‘love you’ is drowsily whispered through your lips as you rest your head on his.

And Giyuu is out, just like that.

thank u for reading, luv u (◍•ᴗ•◍)

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yandere-sins · 2 years ago

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The Enemy’s Embrace

a/n: This doesn’t really has any big background. I saw a book quote on TikTok and thought that the scene would fit so well in a yandere scenario. So I wrote it! Hope you guys enjoy it :3

Warnings: Yandere, Mention of Stalking, Mention of unconsenting actions, Mention of Killing, Soft Yandere

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A shuddering sigh escaped your shivering lips as your gaze fell from the lattice above your head to the cell bars keeping you locked inside the cell.

There were so many things wrong with you being thrown in the dungeon. You didn't commit the crimes you were accused of and never fought the guards to deserve the resentment they've harbored. They had been downright glad to deliver you into the outdoor cell despite the early-winter cold setting in already, telling you you 'deserved' it.

Why did this happen?

Even after days, you lamented the questions of why and how, but the realization—a realization that made you angry beyond measure, furious and wild—had long set in. No matter how much you tried to ignore it for the sake of your own sanity, it wouldn't let you forget the reason you were here.

Not least because the reason kept talking to you with an awfully smug grin on his face as he waited for you to break.

"I don't mind sharing, you know?"

"I know," you mumbled, turning your back towards your cellmate and hitting your head against the cold stone to remain composed. You knew. You knew so well. The man wouldn't stop talking, belittling you with every word he uttered. And you knew he didn't mind sharing at the cost of you giving in to him.

It was driving you mad.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched your arch nemesis, the man you hated most in the entire world, flap his beautiful fur coat into the air, exposing the free space he had underneath to spare for you. That was if you could lose your dignity and sit between his legs, allowing this awful man to envelop you in a warm embrace.

He was grinning, as always, when he caught your eyes. Smugly. Challenging. Aware. Aware that you were slowly freezing to death in just your clothes while he had cozily bundled up in luxury unbefitting of a prisoner. He had been here longer than you, thrown into this dungeon for his crimes before they even came to get you. Someone took pity on the man who presented himself oh-so-dramatic and charming when he wasn't an insane villain. He just had to wail to and flirt with some of the noble ladies passing by the lattice until one of them decided to drop the poor man such a fine fur coat to survive the cold.

It wasn't like he could come near you or hurt you again from his position, bound by chains around his wrists that weren't short enough to immobilize him but not long enough to walk away from his spot. But even after all this time, he still enjoyed the torment of your suffering; every breath you blew against your icy fingers sending a shiver of excitement down his spine.

Sadly, no one thought of gagging him as would be appropriate for a notorious liar. Though the court believed you initially when you told them about his misbehavior—the following, the touches, the murders all in your name—somehow, he convinced them that you weren't an innocent part in all of this. There was nothing you could have done to convince them of your innocence after he charmed his way into the hearts of the jury with fake reasoning and pleading for justice. He opened his mouth, and everyone played his game—except you.

For these reasons, you hated him. And for your rejection, he loved you.

He could have had anyone, even a noble knight or the princess of the kingdom. But he wanted you, specifically, and preferably on your knees, begging for him. His taunting invitation to a warm huddling under the fur was just another way to torment you. He simply wanted to have you just because he decided you belonged to him, and crush your mind to fill it with the same insanity as his.

You had fought him for years. You barely escaped him on so many occasions. But while it had felt like victory to see him being dragged off by guards to his new home, the outdoor cell you hope he'd never escape from, in the end, it had all been in vain. And as you stood in the cell, facing the grey stone wall, this realization was the hardest to accept in all your life.

Because you were really fucking cold.

Even if you had thought about the possibility of yourself dying while getting rid of this lunatic, the thought still pained you. Things had gone wrong many times, but you always made it. You wanted to live. You fought so hard for your freedom and to survive. How could you possibly just throw it out now and allow him to lure you into his grasp?

"What must I do to make you come here and stop being so wary of me? When have I ever done something for you to hate me so?"

Even when he let out a defeated sigh before he spoke, his voice was nothing but mockery. He once again played the role of a savior. A gentleman, a soft-hearted soul in a cruel world. He was right that the world was a cruel place, especially for a genuine and kind person like you. But if you needed saving, you didn't want it to be from an actor who played the role of the selfless hero while grinning at the blood on his own hands.

"I'm good," you replied coldly, much like you were feeling. Hugging your body, you sunk to the ground, rocking yourself back and forth while trying to ignore the annoying villain on the other side of the cell. Closing your eyes, you tried to imagine the summer sun shining down, warming your skin instead of the cold winter breeze ramming into you. Things would have been much easier if he had stopped talking.

"Not to unnerve you, but despite always being stunningly beautiful, the color of your lips is slowly making me nervous, too. We both know you are freezing."

He just wouldn't shut up.

"I. Don't. Want. You. Near. Me," you repeated the same phrase you've been telling him from day one. A phrase he usually liked to ignore and keep sputtering. However, not this time, and suspicion forced you to open one eye to see what he was doing as he didn't reply.

He was simply staring at you. Blankly, unnervingly. You had to look away because his unblinking eyes were unsettling to look into, wide like those of cats staring at an object of desire but void of the empathy of a human.

"Frankly, I don't care what you want," he muttered quietly, barely audible over the howling of the wind. "But if I beg you to come here and let me warm you, will that help? Would you stop torturing me with that pitiful sight of you if I pleaded and said 'please' and 'pretty please'? If I could, I would already be by your side regardless of if you'd let me, but don't you have pity on me, too? Pity on the man who has to watch the love of his life slowly freeze to death while he can't do anything to save you?"

You were so tired of his tirades. The endless amount of garbage he spoke as easily and freely as a bard sang of overdramatized adventures of heros without flinching about their lies. "Please," he breathed. "Please let me warm you."

Another shiver ran through you—from the cold or the desperation in his voice, you weren't sure—but you didn't move from your seat. Didn't give him the gratification of acknowledging him even if your body began to burn from the cold. You heard the rustling of chains, and when you finally looked up, you could see him twist and turn his wrists in the cuffs, trying to loosen them somehow. Only when he noticed your gaze on him did he change from fighting the restraint to giving in.

Letting his hands sink to the ground as far as the chains allowed, he kneeled on all fours before reaching up one hand, ignoring how the cuff cut off the blood flow to his hand. He could never reach you, but he was still trying. No matter what, he never ceased to pursue you, even in the most impossible situations. It made you shiver even more to know the person that selfishly claimed you as his, had the determination of a starving lion to get what he wanted even when he was chained and immobilized.

"I'm begging you," your enemy emphasized. "I'm begging you to let me help you. Let me hold you, so we can survive this together—or die trying. Together. Don't die so far away from me where I can't reach you. Can't even follow you... I can't even hold your hand. Please don't leave me like this. Please just... forgive me. Have mercy on my unworthy, oppressed heart."

Your eyelids were growing weary from the cold, and your mind even more so from his words. But as your movements slowly stilled, conflicting, old thoughts came to mind. Thoughts that you had chugged into the deepest drawer of your mind after he had been imprisoned. Thoughts you hoped never to have to resurface.

I'll survive this. I can escape him no matter what happens. This is not the end.

Slowly, weakly, your arm stretched out. The realization turned your enemy's expression into a surprised one, then he lept forward, ignoring any restraint and the impact on his body as he reached for your hand. His fingers barely grazed yours, but as you collapsed forward, he managed to snatch your wrist, keeping your face from hitting the dirty ground you two were seated on.

And before you knew it, you were enveloped in warmth.

He shifted all around you for a while until your feet were tugged in and under his legs, body covered by the fur and his—probably hurting—arms, one hand holding the coat closed around you so no draft could touch you, while the other one pressed your head into his chest, his chin resting on top of your hair. Completely absorbing you into the little warm orb that was the world he lived in.

"Finally," he sighed, turning his face downwards to nuzzle it into your hair, ignoring the grime that must have built for days. As if nothing about you could scare him off. He didn't seem bothered by anything as long as it concerned you, but you ignored anything he did for once, letting out a long sigh as the warmth slowly thawed you.

"You're not getting out of this one," he mumbled, planting a reverent kiss on your head, filled with the fulfillment of his longing for you, drawing it out as long as possible. Hand reaching up, he cupped your face and warmed your cold cheek with his palm while his thumb caressed you as if you were the most precious object he ever held in his grasp. "I finally have you," he muttered, and you couldn't help a weak huff as the words ever so softly reached you.

"You can't escape me now. You're all mine. Finally. I waited so long for the day you'd finally give in to me. I'll get us out of here, and you'll never have to want for anything, I promise. I'd do anything for you. You know that."

You simply let him keep brabbling while he kept you warm. Fearing that if you refused him now, he too would reject you. That this really would be the end despite all the hardships you had overcome up to this point. You felt nothing of the worship he felt for you, for him, but if this was the only way to stay alive, you'd bite your tongue and let him confess a million more of his crimes to your ears only. You'd overcome this all the same.

You'd survive this, too.

But for now, you'd be warm, cradled in your enemy's embrace.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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adorethedistance · 1 year ago

Text

Baby Fever - Trevor Zegras x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, smut adjacent content (post-sex interaction/make out), a joke about cheating, a joke about death, and semen... in that order...

Words: 2322

Requested: Can you please do a trevor blurb where him and y/n go to a pumpkin patch with their nephew and Trevor's playing with their nephew and y/n gets so much baby fever please

A/n: Hey y'all! I'm taking a break from the Jamie series of firsts with a requested fic. I kinda riffed on the request so there are some things you need to know beforehand: 1) they're not babysitting a nephew, they're babysitting Troy Terry's kid Greyson 2) I'm aware Greyson is currently an infant but in this fic he's a toddler 3) I understand you asked for a blurb but I'm ass at writing blurbs 4) therefore this is a part 1. (Part 2 coming soon ish?) Enjoy!

Troy Terry had sworn to never let Trevor Zegras supervise his son. Or at least, before I was in the picture anyway. I had befriended Dani over the course of several Ducks’ games after Trevor and I became official. We somehow managed to have the same schedules despite having vastly different lifestyles; at the time, she was a new mom adjusting to domestic bliss, and I was a senior at UC Irvine preparing for my post-grad plans. Now that I’m not overwhelmed with work as a student, she and I grew pretty close. More often than not, we found ourselves having several hangouts without our guys present. Naturally, I saw Greyson a lot, considering the fact that I would spend my time with Dani in the Terry residence.

Our latest hang out consisted of us gabbing about the latest drama with Greyson’s preschool over a glass of wine. In telling me that Greyson was between daycares right now, I offered to take him off her hands for a night so she and Troy could have a much needed date night. At first, Dani refused, not wanting to dump the responsibility on me, but I insisted. There were several pros: I love kids, Dani has done plenty of favors for me before, Greyson’s already comfortable with me, and they wouldn’t have to pay for a babysitter. Pleased with my argument, Dani agreed and the plans were set.

This Friday, the team had a day off and rather than having the guys disappear onto the nearest golf course, Dani and Troy began planning their night off, as did Trevor and I.

“Hey, babe, I was thinking about how to spoil you and thought we could get a table at The Ranch tonight. What do you say?” Trevor asks, holding my hips and subtly pinning me against the kitchen counter.

“About that.”

“What’s up?” He asks, deviously dipping his head down. I don’t give in to whatever seduction game he’s playing, and quickly peck him on the lips.

“I kind of made evening plans.” He takes the kiss in stride and looks at me teasingly.

“Is your boyfriend back in town already?”

“Yeah, he wanted to go to The Ranch, too. I just can’t have my boyfriend and my side piece in one place, soooo.”

“I’ve been demoted to ‘side piece’? Ouch,” Trevor laughs before sliding his hands along my waistband to clasp behind my lower back, and pull me into him so our hips touch. “Fuck. Now you’ll never pick me over him!”

“Oh, that was always the plan. Don’t get it twisted.” He laughs once more before asking,

“What’s going on tonight?” I open my mouth to answer and as I do, he slips his hand down to grab my ass, catching me by surprise.

“Hey!” Right as I scold him, Jamie walks into the kitchen to refill his water bottle. I try to bite back the smile that creeps across my features, flustered by Jamie’s newfound presence.

“Hey Jamo,” Trevor says casually, to try and ease the awkwardness.

“You guys know I still live here, right?”

“Sorry, Jamie.”

“I’m going grocery shopping. Just try to keep it in your room, Z.”

“Keep what in my room?” He asks, playing dumb, much to Jamie’s dismay. He merely shakes his head and leaves the kitchen. Watching Jamie leave, Trevor follows with his gaze, tracking Jamie’s movements to the opposite direction until he hears the front door open and close. After, he turns back to face me, “You were saying?”

“I told Dani I would watch Greyson.”

“What?!” I half expected Trevor to be upset, but he’s sporting the widest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, she and Troy were due for some alone time, so I offered to take him to the pumpkin patch tonight.”

“When?”

“They’re dropping him off around 5.”

“5. What time is it now?” Trevor leans away from me to look at the clock on the oven that reads 2:57. “Oh, we have time.”

“Time for wha-” I cut myself off with a screech as Trevor picks me up and sits me on the open counterspace. He pushes my knees apart to stand between them, the dominant action in tandem with the cold countertop underneath me sends shivers down my spine. He then kisses me passionately, trailing his fingers up the length of my exposed thighs. His hands find the top of my waistband, running along the hem as he presses his hard on into my core. I hold either side of his face in my hands, squeaking once more as Trevor picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.

___________________________

Panting and still slightly sweaty, I check my phone to see the clock reads 4:43. “Shit.”

“What?” Trevor asks curiously. He’s laying on top of the covers, fully nude and sprawled out, after having collapsed on the bed next to me.

“It’s 4:43,” I say between sticky breaths. He shuts his eyes and groans loudly,

“Give me, like, five minutes.”

“Uh, no sir. You need to get me a towel so I can get up and pee.” Trevor’s eyes shoot open and he sits up.

“Right. Boyfriend duties await.” His expression is humorous and I can’t help but notice the way his abs flex through the movement. If it weren’t too late, I’d have jumped him again, then and there. He rolls off the bed, sliding on the nearest pair of briefs he can find. Trevor then grabs the towel hanging on the doorknob, and walks over to where I am on the bed, propped up on my elbows. The gravity of holding myself up causes the beaded sweat to roll down my cleavage, and on to my stomach where Trevor had finished a few minutes prior. He doesn’t say anything but I clock the way his eyes are trained on my chest as he approaches me. I hold out my hand for the towel but he holds it out of reach.

“What are you-?”

“Lay down.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!” I confusedly put my head back on his pillow and Trevor grabs both ends of the towel, opening it up to lay it over me. “I’m calling it. Time of death, 4:44 PM. Rest in peace, Y/n, I’ll miss you.”

“Oh my god,” I say from under the towel. Pulling it off my face, I sit back up to find Trevor snickering at his own joke. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“Very.” He leans down and places a sweet kiss on my lips. When he pulls away, my eyes flutter open and he gently lifts the towel to cover his hand, then wipes off the leftover fluid. I look up at him as he moves, a soft smile of adoration painting my features. Trevor looks down at me and widens his eyes teasingly before relaxing to smile at me again.

The sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall and from the entrance we hear Jamie call, “I’m back! Please tell me you’re clothed!”

“Don’t worry about it, Jamo!” Trevor calls back before wadding up the used towel and throwing it at me.

“Ew!” I should’ve known him being sweet wasn’t going to last. Sliding off the side of the bed, I pick up my clothes and walk into the bathroom to pee. After I’m dressed again, I come out to see Trevor had thrown on the outfit he was wearing earlier: a v-neck polo and board shorts.

“You can’t wear that,” I say in disbelief.

“Why?” Trevor looks at me in confusion. Turning to the mirror that hangs on the back of the door, he takes in the fresh hickeys littered across his exposed chest. “Oh shit.” The revelation is perfectly timed with a knock on the door. Nudging Trevor out of the way, I exit his bedroom and leave him to change. Jamie is unloading groceries with his airpods in and I wave when I walk by to signal that we’re done and he can exist peacefully again.

Answering the front door reveals Dani and Troy in the nicest casual clothing I’ve ever seen. The Terry’s smile upon seeing me and I look at Greyson who’s sitting on Dani’s left hip.

“Hi Grey!” I cheer and he immediately smiles. I then notice Troy holding what seems to be Greyson’s booster seat and as I go to reach for it, Trevor appears behind me. Greyson runs inside and begins punching Trevor’s leg with all the might his almost-four year old arms can manage. I laugh but Dani scolds,

“Greyson, we don’t hit people, remember?” He immediately stops, thinks for a moment, and then proceeds to throw punches at Trevor but without making contact. Dani sighs exhaustedly before saying, “Good enough.”

“How’s it going, man?” Trevor asks Troy, causing Dani and me to look at the guys incredulously.

“You saw each other yesterday,” I tease. Trevor shrugs as he takes the car seat from Troy.

“Terry’s my boy though,” He responds somewhat jokingly. Greyson then speaks up,

“What about me?” The group laughs about the sweet question but Greyson isn’t amused. He looks around, confused, before stepping further into the apartment to scope it out. Greyson then yells, “I wanna go to the pumpkin patch!”

“Read you loud and clear, bud,” Trevor replies. Then, Dani asks practically,

“What time do you need him out of your hair?” To which I reply,

“Oh don’t worry about it, we can hang onto him for as long as y’all need.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, well, his bed time is eight, and that’s usually around when we get tired anyway, so we’ll be here around then?.”

“8 it is,” I say with a smile, leaning away to look at Greyson fully. He smiles shyly before hiding his face against Trevor’s leg. “Why are you being shy, Grey-Grey?” I ask, looking down at his level.

“I think he has a little bit of a crush on you.”

“Really?” I ask with a tiny bit of a laugh. Troy chimes in,

“Yeah, he was super excited when she told him you were the one babysitting-”

“He’s been looking forward to it all week.” Dani finishes Troy’s sentence before they look at one another and smile, “In fact, he told me he has something to tell you, right Grey?”

“You’re pretty, Y/n,” He admits before running away, which causes the four of us to laugh.

“I told you my boyfriend was back in town,” I tease, which then makes Trevor laugh heartily. Turning back to Dani and Troy, they both look confused and I feel my cheeks grow warm in embarrassment.

“Inside joke,” I reassure. They nod and offer a few goodbyes to me, Trevor, and Greyson, before heading out for good.

Closing the door behind us, Trevor sets down the car seat and says,

“I gotta up my game now that I have competition.”

“Yeah, so behave!” Trevor touches his left hand to his heart, giving me a look that reads melodramatically offended, “You’re currently in the lead, though.”

“I better be,” he bites back, wrapping his arm around the back of my body, coming to rest his right hand on my hip. His thumb brushes the hem and I look up at him over my left shoulder,

“You’re still turned on?” I whisper, in shock. Trevor doesn’t reply. His hand slinks down to my ass as he kisses my lips heatedly, before he goes to follow Greyson’s path. I follow close behind and see Greyson’s found Jamie in the kitchen.

“Can I have one?!” Greyson shrieks upon finding a box of fruit by the foot. Jamie laughs at his excitement before asking,

“Do your parents even let you have sugar?” The dry humor is lost on the young child but I snort a laugh.

“I’ve had these before in my lunch!”

“...Okay, sure. Let me open it for you. I don’t trust you to not destroy the box.”

“Jame, can you keep an eye on him for a second so we can get shoes on?” Trevor asks.

“He just got here and you’re already pawning off your responsibility on me?” Jamie playfully accuses Trevor, who looks offended. I laugh, partially at Jamie’s joke, and partially at watching Trevor misunderstand his roommate in real time. Jamie looks at me and we laugh about the joke going over Trevor’s head.

I then head for the bedroom to search for the shoes I was once wearing. Trevor enters a little after I do to pull a pair of white sneakers from his closet. He’s uncharacteristically quiet. I almost want to ask what for, but then I’m overcome with the desire to let him stew in the silence. If I wait long enough, he’ll have to speak. He always does. Or, at least, he usually does.

“Do you want kids?” He works up the nerve to ask, quickly adding, “Someday?” in hopes of softening the blow of the genuine conversation topic.

“Probably someday,” I answer simply, which sends him back into an introspective silence for a moment.

“How many kids would you want?” I look over at him to see he’s staring at me, as if tearing his gaze away would shatter the moment. I continue putting on my shoes,

“I think two is a good number. That way they can have a sibling, but not so many that they would feel their needs went unmet. Why?”

“I could do two,” Trevor says assuredly, ignoring my question.

“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re about two rings short of trying to have a baby with me right now,” I assert in a teasing way, although I’m not joking. The tension of the conversation dissipates as Trevor laughs.

“Fair point,” Trevor squints his eyes at me, “But we can still practice, right?” I laugh again before nodding,

“We can at least agree on that.”

***

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed that and stay tuned for part 2 that'll drop sometime this week or next. let me know if you have a request for either Trevor or Jamie bc I'm on a ducks kick rn! Sidenote: is anyone else absolutely obsessed with the fact that we can copy paste tags now?? saves so much time !!!

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caramelt4me · 1 month ago

Text

Secret. - Part III

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mention of self-harm, blood, substance abuse, violence and suicide

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

𝔸s you laid unconscious on the bed; a crouched Asher watched you intently. A mix of guilt and worry filled his azure eyes as one hand tenderly stroked your head in silence, while the other hand held yours – the fingers intertwined.

Your breathing was low and long, indicating a deep sleep.

One of the several side effects of the medicine he made you take.

He sighed, withdrawing his hand from your forehead to gently pull the chair close, as he took a seat on it – his other hand remained interlocked in yours. His icy eyes stared back at your asleep face that looked peaceful, devoid of any inner conflict or distress from before.

If only he could make you feel the same always on his own when conscious, he thought. Then he wouldn’t have to take the aid of a mind-altering sedative.

Each dose taking away a piece of the old you – but this was his choice, his ugly way to claim you whole – body and soul.

He didn’t want to erase the defiant look in your eyes – no, he cherished it all too well. However, he wished the feeling could reside alongside the maddening love he had infected you with. But alas, if only one could exist – it would have to be the latter.

Then suddenly, Asher’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His brows slightly furrowed, his expression turning colder by the second.

He clicked his tongue and picked it up to answer lowly. “I'm starting to think you have a death wish, Mr. Baek. First you get caught by Damian and now even a drunk maknae is too much for you to handle. Is that it?”

“No, I-I’m extremely sorry about calling again Asher! I do not want to interrupt your time with um—"The manager fumbled on the other side of the line. “But Nex suddenly woke up from his nap and caught me trying to wire his phone, he has locked himself up inside the bathroom—H-He is asking for you and threatening to take his own life if you don’t—"

“What’s the status of the other members?” Asher interrupted, asking coolly. “Did you manage to access their phones before you dropped them to their apartments last night?”

“Y-Yes, only Nex was the problem—I couldn’t find it on him, so I went back to the club this morning—but it wasn’t there, so I came back to his place an hour ago, and it was right there! —in his pocket—I must have missed it somehow—but then he—”

Asher scoffed coldly, in front of you, unable to hide his perpetual frustration with the incompetent manager.

He had once made a silent promise to himself to only show his good side to you, and nothing else. Perhaps, it still counted as long as your eyes stayed closed.

His blue eyes glinted with frost as he retorted sarcastically. “Are you telling me that junkie kid played you like a fiddle in that state? Have you truly lost your touch with age, Baek?”

“I-I’m sorry A-Asher—I--!” Mr. Baek’s voice abruptly died before Nex’s voice grew into a muffled shouting in the background - demanding the older idol to return ‘the stash’ he had rightfully paid for.

Then, the delirious maknae doubled in on it, threatening to ruin the eldest’s untainted reputation with his death— and let the rest of the world know what kind of an obsessive control-freak of a monster ‘his hyung’ was.

The blue-eyed idol sighed, rolling his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Asher had never heard a more pathetic, empty threat.

Unless the youngest had a two-way access from Hell, an exposé would be quite difficult to pull without a suic*de note or an alibi. Of course, both of which would have been easily taken care of.

Still, it was amusing for him to hear the usual timid maknae be so –brazen and loud.

Did he really think he could gain the upper hand so easily?

Asher stifled a cruel smirk, before he cleared his throat.

“I’m on my way. Make sure he doesn’t stop talking, Mr. Baek,” The blue-eyed idol said nonchalant, before adding dryly. “Hope that long tongue of yours is of some use.”

“Y-Yes absolutely Asher! I will—”

Asher cut the call before the manager could finish his sentence.

He then gazed at your sleeping face, knowing full well that you wouldn't stir until the next morning. Another reason why he would normally prefer you to take the weekly tablets – since they had a lower dose and came with milder side-effects.

However, this time, it worked out in his favour – buying him time to deal with his…problem child.

Not that he needed more than an hour with Nex.

A soft smile played on his lips as he turned his attention back to you.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the back of your hand to leave a tender kiss. As he pulled away, his fingers lingered, tracing the lines of your hand before finally releasing their hold.

With one last glance at your peaceful face, he turned to leave – a soft click of the door echoed through the cabin shortly after.

---

The fluorescent bathroom light flickered, casting jagged shadows across the tiled floor. Another wave of nausea hit Nex, forcing him to his knees next to the toilet bowl. He clutched his throbbing head, fighting off the last remnants of a hangover.

His thoughts spiralled into a restless haze, and he could feel the cold sweat trickling down his brow. He was a mess—every muscle in his body pulsed with a dull ache that he knew was more than just the alcohol.

Withdrawals. Again.

The pink-haired idol cursed under his breath.

Maybe he should’ve just taken Clade’s offer, he thought, biting his lip anxiously. Slept with that pervert for double ‘the stash’—if only not for his damn pride.

But then, the little voice of reason whispered, reminding him that it would be useless too – since his dearest hyung planned to monitor them all.

Nex let out a frustrated cry—feeling like a prisoner in his own body as his bruised hands betrayed him –shaking uncontrollably, as he tried to hold one still with the other in vain. His heart began to race like an anxious trapped bird – pounding against his ribs with every beat. With a mouth drier than a desert and his throat parched raw, he could feel the withdrawals getting worse— his terrified fingers clutching his dishevelled pink hair in a futile attempt to calm his overstimulated mind.

If only he could get his hands on one sip of that laced drink, he had tried so hard to arrange for.

But, of course, Asher had intervened, just like he always did.

Then suddenly—

Knock-Knock-Knock.

The door rattled again, grating on his fried-up nerves.

"Nex, open the door!" a voice demanded. It was Mr. Baek, his tone laced with worry. He could almost see the manager’s anxious face through the thin wooden barrier.

“Don’t be childish and throw away the razor blade!”

Razor blade?

His mind went blank for a moment before his grey eyes noticed the fallen razor blade on the floor in his peripheral vision.

Right, of course.

The razor blade, he recalled in a daze; before he stumbled to grab it back in his hand.

He was in the middle of threatening them with his life, which seemed to have worked out in his favour—since Asher was on his way to his place, hopefully with his stash.

Could his hyung really be that soft for him?

Nex chuckled darkly, colour rushing to his cheeks – as he blatantly ignored the gory carnage around, that he had wrought inside the bathroom just to get the point across.

Broken tiles littered the floor, their white surfaces now stained crimson. Blood, dark and viscous, smeared the once pristine walls, creating grotesque patterns that echoed the chaos of emotions in his head.

His gaze flickered to his reflection in one of the infinite shards, that had shattered when he punched the mirrored cabinet before.

His eyes once bright grey—were bloodshot, haunted.

Was this why his hyung kept pushing him to quit? Nex scoffed weakly, a feeble attempt to deny the sobering reality creeping upon him.

“Nex? Are you still with me?”

Mr. Baek’s voice interrupted the youngest’s line of thoughts. “Please don’t do this! —Let’s talk, man to man!”

The pink-haired idol snickered. "Talk? About what? About how you probably bugged my phone already while I’m stuck in here? Or about how hyung ordered you to spy on all of us? Which one will it be, Mr. Baek?"

Silence.

What else could he expect from his hyung’s puppet?

Nex laughed bitterly, before his grey eyes had a cryptic glint to them.

“Say, Mr. Baek…how about we talk about something more interesting?” The pink-haired male casually purred. “Tell me, where does hyung actually disappear to every time we finish a tour? Does he have a secret family or something…staying at a cabin? A lover, perhaps?”

Silence.

“Who is she? Do I know her? Have we met before?”

Silence.

“Mr. Baek, you do realize I’m the one with the leash here, don’t you?” Nex sighed, idly toying with the razor blade in his bloodied hand.

Silence.

“Ya! I’m not kidding Mr. Baek—!!!" Nex was about to harshly blackmail the manager again, when he heard the door knob unlock.

Click. Clunk.

His grey eyes shot in the direction of the bathroom door—as it creaked open, revealing the familiar face of his hyung.

---

Asher ’s face was momentarily unreadable, before his icy blues met the maknae’s terrified grey ones – his unyielding gaze filled with silent judgement for the latter.

His lips curled into a twisted smile as he jingled the bundle of keys in front of the dumbfounded boy, making the youngest flinch and instinctively scurry into a defensive ball.

“Took me some time to find the spare keys in my car,” the blue-eyed idol remarked with a casual shrug, though the glint in his icy gaze was anything but friendly. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, Nex.”

“Hyung...”

Nex’s voice wavered, barely a whisper, as he struggled to meet the older idol’s cold stare. Years of ingrained fear rooted him in place, his trembling hands loosening their grip on the razor blade he had been clutching. It slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor, landing near Asher’s polished shoes.

“Ah.” Asher bent down to retrieve the sharp object before Nex could. His experienced fingers deftly played with it, spinning and flipping it in a manner that was both effortless and unnerving. Unlike the horrified maknae, he handled the sharp edges of the blade with ease.

Asher’s lips twitched into a devious smirk as he chuckled. “I know a thing or two about these. Want me to show you how it’s done?”

“N-No!” Nex stammered, his voice breaking as he scrambled backward, pressing himself against the wall. His arms shot behind his back as if to protect himself, his frantic grey eyes welling with tears. “I-I’m sorry, hyung! I-I must’ve lost my mind—I swear, please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you?” Asher echoed, amusement flickering across his face as he crouched down to Nex’s level. He reached out, prying the trembling boy’s hand from its hiding place. The maknae flinched as the older idol inspected his bruised and bloodied fingers. A harsh chuckle escaped Asher.

“Do I even need to?” he retorted, his tone sharp and cutting. “And here I thought you wanted me to return your things.”

“Huh?” Nex blinked in confusion, his tearful gaze darting to the small pouch that Asher slipped into his hand. The faint weight made his breath hitch. His timid grey eyes dropped to the bag, only for them to widen in recognition and panic when they flicked back up to meet Asher’s cold, unreadable blues.

It was a packet of his stash.

Impossible.

Nex’s hands moved instinctively, fumbling to open the pouch. The addict was moments away from scarfing down its contents when something stopped him—a sinking realization that this wasn’t right. His trembling gaze returned to Asher, who stood over him with a sadistic glint in his eye, his expression screaming of a hidden catch.

“Y-You… you did something to this, didn’t you?” Nex stammered, his voice barely audible as he gulped nervously.

Asher’s smile widened into something more sinister as he replied, his tone calm and detached. “You’re right. It’s laced with rat poison.”

The pouch slipped from Nex’s hands and fell to the floor. Panic surged through him as he frantically wiped his mouth, even though the contents hadn’t touched his lips. His wide, terrified grey eyes bore into Asher, his disbelief mingled with desperation. “Y-You... why would you do that?!”

Asher tilted his head, his expression almost bored, as though the question were absurd.

“Didn’t you want to bring me down with your death?” he asked simply, his voice void of empathy. “I thought I’d help you out myself—make it as pleasurable as possible for you.”

Nex stared at Asher in abject horror, unable to reconcile the twisted kindness laced in his hyung’s words. His unease deepened as Asher casually slipped another pouch into his trembling hand. The weight of it was all too familiar.

“Don’t worry, I gotchu buddy~” The older male said with a cruel smile.

The maknae flinched, instinctively trying to pull his hand back, but Asher’s iron grip on his wrist kept him in place. Those icy blue eyes bore into Nex with an intensity that made him shudder.

“Withdrawals can be a b*tch, am I right?” Asher sneered. “So, hurry up and take it. Or should I help shove it down your throat?”

“N-No—I-I’m sorry, hyung! T-This was a mistake! -” Nex stammered, his voice cracking as he tried to plead his way out. Tears welled up in his terrified grey eyes as he bowed his head in submission. “Please! Please stop!”

Asher’s smile faded into a thin line as he slid his other hand to the back of Nex’s neck. The maknae flinched violently, his breath growing shallow as panic threatened to overtake him.

Without warning, Asher grabbed him by the scruff like a helpless kitten, forcing their faces close until Nex’s terror-stricken grey eyes met his cold, piercing blue gaze.

“Are you sure?” Asher purred, his voice dripping with mockery. “Are you telling me you don’t want to have it your way?”

Nex gulped nervously and shook his head in frantic denial.

“Great,” Asher said with a mockingly cheerful tone, patting Nex’s cheek with false approval as he released him. But his eyes glinted dangerously. “Then, it’s time to do things my way.”

Before Nex could react, a sharp sting pierced his arm. His breath hitched as his bewildered gaze dropped to see the syringe in Asher’s hand, its contents pressing into his vein. Warmth spread through his body, an unfamiliar calm overtaking his trembling form.

“Don’t worry,” Asher said softly, his tone eerily gentle as he watched the youngest’s shivers subside. “It won’t kill you. Just something to help with the withdrawals.”

Nex’s wide, confused eyes darted back to Asher’s icy blues, which were now studying him with a cold curiosity. His panic only grew as his body grew heavy, his limbs succumbing to the sedative coursing through his veins. The maknae collapsed forward, falling into Asher’s cold, unyielding embrace.

“I should’ve done this earlier,” Asher murmured under his breath, stroking the back of Nex’s head with lazy indifference as the boy slipped into unconsciousness. His voice dropped to a chilling monotone. “Killing two birds with one stone.”

---

Initially, Asher had planned to scare Nex off—just another round of their usual cat-and-mouse game. It wasn’t the first time. Nex, with his predictable desperation, was the easiest to handle. But everything changed when Asher overheard the maknae’s conversation with Mr. Baek.

The conversation had devolved into a one-sided exchange once Mr. Baek spotted Asher lurking in the shadows. The manager wisely clammed up, refusing to divulge anything further about you.

But the damage was already done.

Nex’s reckless attempt to extract blackmail material confirmed what Asher already suspected: the youngest was the weakest link.

Desperate and impulsive, Nex’s addiction made him a liability. Yet, that desperation also meant he could be shaped into something useful—a better, much more reliable knight than the old manager to protect you from the outside world.

The idea appealed to Asher, though he begrudged the effort it would take.

Time was the real issue.

Asher sighed, glancing at the unconscious maknae. His time was precious, better spent with you. He resented the hours this would steal from him, but a compromise was necessary.

“Mr. Baek, a hand please,” Asher ordered, his irritation evident as he adjusted the dead weight of Nex in his arms. Though the pink-haired maknae had a baby face, his muscular build made him heavier than expected.

The manager scrambled to help, and together they carried Nex to the living room, unceremoniously dropping him onto the couch. Asher sank into the adjacent seat, catching his breath.

His phone buzzed, drawing his immediate attention. The blue-eyed idol’s fingers darted to his pocket, but his tension dissolved when he saw the notification. Just spam—not the home-security motion detector app.

Relief washed over him.

As expected, you were still asleep.

Asher leaned back; his gaze distant as he recalled dismantling the cameras months ago. They had been convenient, but their presence had hurt you.

Your mind—already too fragile due to being saturated with the medicine and his love, couldn’t handle the perceived invasion of privacy.

He hadn’t understood why it upset you so much, but he couldn’t bear to see you suffer. The motion sensors were one of the smaller compromises he would end up making.

Because more was yet to come.

“Cancel all of Nex’s engagements for the next two weeks and prepare the guestroom in the cabin,” Asher instructed Baek. His tone was clipped, his displeasure clear. “And make sure it’s quiet. You know how light her sleep is.”

Baek nodded hastily but hesitated.

“What now?” Asher snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“W-What should I tell Damien?” Baek stammered. “I know that he’s only a leader in name, but if he finds out about Nex’s absence without a proper explanation, he might grow suspicious. He could even come here to investigate.”

Asher paused, considering the point. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he replied. “Good thinking, Baek. Tell him that the Old man* got Nex checked into rehab. Overseas. Leave the mess in the bathroom; it’ll make the story more convincing.”

Baek blinked, momentarily awed by the blue-eyed male’s quick-witted deception. “Y-Yes, I’ll handle it.”

“Good~” Asher chimed, standing up to get to work.

He gathered the evidence—the syringe and the empty vial—and sealed them in a disposable medical bag. He then tucked it in a separate compartment in his sling bag, away from the unused vials of medicine and sealed syringes—something he always carried on himself in case there was an ‘emergency’.

The blue-eyed idol cast one last glance at Nex, his expression devoid of pity. This was just another calculated move in his relentless game.

A game designed to keep his most precious treasure, you, safe and hidden.

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥��̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

@shadowytravelerlover

#male yandere x reader #soft yandere #stockholm syndrome #yandere idol #yandere scenarios #yandere male #sub!yandere #sub yandere #yandere x darling #possessive #obsessive love #obsessive yandere

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mononijikayu · 6 months ago

Text

“dear theodosia” — gojo satoru.

"I'll be here," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't let you become a story. I'll fight with everything I have to be here, to see you grow, to love you." “Satoru, you’ll live a long and happy life with us, with me,” you said, looking at him tenderly. Worry echoed in your eyes, though. “You and I, we will grow old together. And die on the same day with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren around us.”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 4.6k words

LISTEN: dear theodosia by lin manuel miranda and leslie odom jr.

NOTE: prepared to be sick of me because this entire time, you'll only be getting musical themed song inspired stuff because the songs have gotten back to me and kicked me into the nostalgia of musicals. anyway, this was so cute to me. i love dad-satoru so much. i hope i can write more of him. enjoy this a lot guys, i love you~ <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

spoilers about shinjuku showdown

GOJO SATORU THINKS HE WAS NEVER BUILT FOR DOMESTIC LIFE. When he was younger, he thought he would live a life of solitary proportions. Sure, the elders would have pushed him to marry one way or another and force him to start a family. But he knew his heart wouldn’t have been in it. He knew that nothing in him would be genuine. And he didn’t want that. If he was being honest, his greatest fear was the lonesomeness that comes with his birth. His power had promised him the world. He knew from the moment he could think that he would not be a man among humanity — no, he would be a god. But it was quite clear that being on top is lonely, being a god is lonely, and he hated it.

He never thought that both of you would end up being together. Let alone that he would willingly settle down with anyone. You never truly seemed to be someone that loved that idea — you were still reeling from heartbreak. And him? He was left behind by the person he thought was his shadow, shattered with nothing. It wasn’t ideal, but he thought that you understood. He thought that you both had enough broken pieces between the two of you to be whole again. That if misery was an enemy, then the two of you would win. He was willing to bet on that.

And so, he took the gamble. He opened up, letting you see the cracks and scars that he had hidden for so long. He exposed his vulnerabilities, hoping you would do the same. It was a tentative beginning, filled with uncertainty and hesitation, but gradually, you both found solace in each other’s presence.

The nights were the hardest, haunted by the ghosts of past loves and lost dreams. Yet, somehow, those shared moments of silence, the comfort of a warm hand, and the whispered confessions in the dark, made the loneliness bearable. You both learned to navigate the labyrinth of each other’s fears and insecurities, finding strength in the shared understanding that neither of you was alone anymore.

He was surprised by how naturally the pieces fell into place. Your laughter became a balm for his weary soul, and your touch grounded him in a way he never thought possible. Slowly, he started to see a future he had never dared to dream of – a future where he wasn’t isolated at the pinnacle of power, but rather, standing beside you, sharing the burdens and the joys.

He realized that the life he once dreaded, a life intertwined with another’s, was not a cage, but a liberation. The family he had feared would be forced upon him became a chosen haven of love and understanding. The heart he thought was too shattered to feel again began to beat with a new, hopeful rhythm.

In you, he found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, someone who had been forged in the same fires of pain and loss. Together, you built something beautiful from the ruins, proving that even gods could find grace in the embrace of another’s love. And in that love, he discovered that being on top didn’t have to mean being alone. Instead, it meant having someone to share the view, someone to hold his hand as they looked down at the world together.

Gojo Satoru looked at you now, watching your sleeping form. It had only been a few days since he was released from the prison realm. Throughout that time, he couldn’t help but think about you. Thinking about how you were waiting for him. How your son was going to be waiting for his father to come home. Megumi, Tsumiki, his beloved students. They were all waiting for him. But when he saw you, he didn’t know what came over him. He rushed to you, and your arms opened wide. Just for him.

Time didn’t pass in the prison realm — but for you it did. He could see it. How tired you were. How all of this grief and pain, and suffering had cost you dearly. Your tears felt hot against his shoulders, your cries of relief bellowing through his entire body. He could feel it all; he could never forget it. Even now, he couldn’t. In all of your marriage, he had cost you dearly. You had sacrificed a lot of your life trying to help him achieve his dream for the Jujutsu world. You stood by him no matter what. You made a home for him anywhere and everywhere. You gave him everything.

As he watched you sleep, he marveled at your resilience. The lines on your face told stories of battles fought and won, of nights spent waiting and worrying, of unwavering love and dedication. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light, as if afraid to wake you from your well-deserved rest.

In that quiet moment, he made a silent vow. He promised himself that he would make up for all the time lost, for all the pain and sacrifices you endured. He would be the husband and father you deserved, the man who stood beside you as an equal, not just a protector. The burden of his power and his duties had always weighed heavily on him, but he realized now that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and his heart swelled with an overwhelming love and gratitude. The world outside was filled with uncertainties and dangers, but here, in this moment, everything felt right. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, a promise of better days to come.

“I’m home,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to hope. Hope for a future where the weight of his responsibilities didn’t overshadow the simple joys of life. A future where he could see his son grow up, where he could laugh with his family, where he could find solace in your embrace every night. And with that hope, he drifted into a peaceful sleep beside you, ready to face whatever came next with you by his side.

He couldn’t believe it. How content you had made him — how happy you had made him. And now, he thought you had made him even happier. Even with all that had come to pass, he didn’t think it was a bad thing. He could feel it when he looked at you with his Six Eyes. You probably hadn’t been able to find yourself, being so busy holding everything together in his absence. Yet he could feel it. He could feel the life you had created bubbling in your belly. He could feel it echo with the essence of him and you.

A smile crept onto his face as he gently placed his hand on your stomach, feeling the faint flutter of new life beneath his fingertips. It was as if the universe had given him a second chance, a chance to be there for you and the new life you were bringing into the world. This tiny, growing miracle was a testament to your strength and resilience, a symbol of hope and renewal.

He marveled at the thought of another child, another chance to build a family filled with love and warmth. The future, which had once seemed so bleak and uncertain, now held promise and joy. He thought of your son, soon to be a big brother, and how they would grow up together, surrounded by the love and support of their parents and siblings.

Satoru's heart swelled with gratitude and love as he kissed your belly softly, whispering words of promise to the life growing within you. "I'm here, little baby." he murmured, his voice tender and filled with conviction. "I'll always be here for you, for all of us."

Satoru then held your belly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You stirred slightly, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you murmured groggily, "That tickles."

He chuckled softly, his laughter like a soothing balm. "Sorry," he whispered, not really meaning it but enjoying the sound of your sleepy voice.

You sighed contentedly, your eyes half-opening to meet him. "Do you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. "That you’re pregnant again? I can see the baby growing."

You laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room. "You didn't see Satoshi last time, you know." you teased.

Satoru pouted playfully, his expression a mix of mock offense and genuine amusement. Even with just the moonlight, his childishness can be seen so clearly too. "Satoshi was already too strong as a baby," he defended himself. "He concealed his presence from his papa."

You giggled, reaching up to touch his cheek. "He is his father's son, after all."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening with love. "I guess he is," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "But this time, I won't miss a thing. I'll be here, every step of the way."

You smiled, feeling a wave of warmth and gratitude wash over you. "I know you will, Satoru." you said softly, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “You’ve never failed at that before.”

Satoru's hand remained on your belly, his tone blossoming with so much love. "I can't wait to meet our new little one." he whispered, his voice filled with awe and anticipation. “I’ve always wanted to have a big family.”

“I know.” You whispered to him, taking his other hand and holding it close with your own. “You’ve talked about it before.”

“But it was just hard…..with everything.” He hums, laying his back against the bed frame. “Now it’s going to be even harder — everyone knows about Satoshi now. And now….”

You shake your head at him. “We will be fine. As we always have been. It will be okay, Satoru. You will save Megumi, the kids. You will do us proud. And we’ll finally get our happily ever after.”

Silence engulfed Satoru for a moment. He kept thinking about his own father. His father had died when he was too young, so he didn’t remember anything about him. But he heard stories. He was a rough man to all, but his mother remembered him differently. And so she had a different story to tell.

Gojo Satoru didn’t want to voice it out loud, but he was worried. He worried that, just like his father, he would be a story to his child. That he would be nothing but a forgotten memory. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be someone who loved his child. He wanted his child to know him as Satoshi did. But he didn’t know what would happen now. He still had to face Sukuna and Kenjaku. And it wasn't that he lacked confidence, but he worried still. He worried, and it hurt him. He felt his heart be heavy about this, more than ever.

As he stared at your loving face, the weight of his fears pressed down on him. The thought of leaving you and his children behind, of becoming just another story, filled him with a deep, aching sorrow. He wanted to be more than a legend or a distant memory; he wanted to be a father, a husband, a man who was present and involved in the lives of those he loved.

His hand tightened slightly on your belly, as if trying to anchor himself to the present moment, to the promise of the future growing inside you. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach, closing his eyes as he whispered a silent vow to himself and to his unborn child.

"I'll be here," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't let you become a story. I'll fight with everything I have to be here, to see you grow, to love you."

“Satoru, you’ll live a long and happy life with us, with me,” you said, looking at him tenderly. Worry echoed in your eyes, though. “You and I, we will grow old together. And die on the same day with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren around us.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the determination and love there, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Your unwavering belief in their future together eased some of his fears, but the worry in your eyes mirrored his own. He didn’t want you to worry, he doesn’t like it. Not especially in your condition. But he thinks that you can’t help it. You love him. And loving him will always have its worst. Love after all is a curse among men.

"I want that," he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. "I want to grow old with you, to see our children grow up, to be surrounded by family. I want to be there for all of it."

He lifted his head, meeting your concerned gaze. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with unspoken fears. "I just... I want to be here. For you, for Satoshi, for our new baby. I don’t want to be just a memory."

You cupped his face, your eyes searching for him. "You won't be." you assured him, your voice filled with unwavering confidence. "We'll face whatever comes together. You're not alone in all of this, my love.”

Satoru nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to push past the lump in his throat. Your words, your presence, gave him strength. He knew the battles ahead would be daunting, but he also knew he had something worth fighting for, something worth living for. You, Satoshi, this babe, Megumi, his beloved students, his adored friends — you were worth living for. You were worth returning from hell from.

"I love you, darling." he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. "And I promise, I'll do everything I can to stay with you. To be the father our children deserve."

Your fingers caressed his cheek, your smile a beacon of hope and reassurance. "And we love He smiled, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I know. I love you too.”

You grinned at him and leaned toward him, your lips pressing against his. "And I can't wait to see you as a papa again," you replied, your voice filled with equal parts excitement and tenderness. “You’ll be so beloved by this babe, Satoru. And I know you’ll love our child so much too.”

“I already love them,” he whispered, his smile the epitome of joy itself. “I can imagine it already. They’re moving so powerfully in your belly. I’m pretty sure they’re going to blow us all away.”

You laughed, the sound bright and full of hope. “Can you imagine, Yaga teaching this kid the way Gakuganji has taught me?”

Satoru chuckled, the thought filling him with a mix of amusement and anticipation. "Oh, that would be something to see. Another little powerhouse in the making. But you know, with our combined stubbornness and spirit, I think we’re going to have our hands full.”

"Definitely," you agreed, your eyes sparkling with joy. "But we'll manage. We always do."

He nodded, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. "Yeah, we will. Together."

"You will be," you replied firmly, your hand covering his. "We'll make it through this, Satoru. Together. We'll have the future we've always dreamed of."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, drawing strength from your presence. "Thank you," he whispered. "For believing in me, in us. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you promised, your voice soft but resolute. "Because we're in this together, always. For better or for worse.”

Before Satoru could respond, the door to your bedroom creaked open, the sound slicing through the quiet of the night. A small figure shuffled inside, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It was young Gojo Satoshi, his small form barely reaching the edge of the bed. He looked distressed, your little boy. Satoru’s eyes softened at the sight of your darling boy.

Clutching his favorite stuffed animal tightly to his chest, he paused at the foot of the bed, uncertainty etched on his face. You and Satoru turned towards him simultaneously, your hearts melting at the sight of your son standing there, his eyes wide and teary. His pajamas were rumpled, his hair tousled from sleep, and it was evident that something had unsettled him deeply.

"Mama, Papa," Satoshi whispered, his voice barely audible above the soft hum of the room. He took a hesitant step closer, seeking comfort in the warmth of his parents' presence.

Satoru's heart clenched with concern as he reached out a comforting hand towards Satoshi. "Come here, Satoshi." he said gently, his voice a soothing murmur. "What's wrong, my little dawn?"

Satoshi hesitated for a moment, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to find the words to articulate his fear. "I... I had a nightmare," he finally managed to say, his voice wavering with emotion. "There was a big monster... and I couldn't find you and Papa."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Satoru, silently communicating your shared concern for your son's well-being. Without a second thought, Gojo Satoru lifted the covers, creating a welcoming space between the two of you. "It's okay, dearest dawn." he reassured, his voice soft but firm. "You're safe now. Come, lie down with us."

Satoshi blinked back tears, relief flooding his features as he scrambled onto the bed. He nestled himself between you and Satoru, his small body seeking solace in the warmth and familiarity of his parents. Satoru wrapped an arm protectively around him, pulling him close, while you gently smoothed his hair, offering some tender comfort that could never be echoed in words.

"What was the monster like, Satoshi?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle lullaby in the quiet of the room.

Satoshi took a deep breath, his eyes still wide with lingering fear. "It was... big and scary," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I wasn’t strong enough, mama. It was too much!”

Satoru's heart twisted with empathy as he listened to his son's words. He tightened his hold around Satoshi, his voice filled with reassurance. "Monsters aren't real, my dearest boy." he said firmly, brushing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "But even if they were, I would never let anything harm you. Papa will always protect you."

Satoshi looked up at Satoru, his eyes searching his father's face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nodded slowly, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Really, Papa?"

"Really," Satoru affirmed, his voice steady and unwavering. "You're safe with us, always."

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to Satoshi's cheek. "We love you so much, sweetheart," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "You're our brave little boy."

Satoshi's shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as he nestled deeper into the embrace of his parents. "I love you too, Mama and Papa," he whispered, his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

"We love you more than anything." Satoru and you said in unison, their voices a gentle promise of unconditional love.

As your son Satoshi drifted off to sleep, his breathing slowing into the steady rhythm of peace, you and Satoru exchanged a soft smile. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your family, you knew that together, you could weather any storm. And as the night wrapped it's comforting arms around you, you held onto each other, cherishing the precious bond that bound your hearts together.

Gojo Satoru was happiest here, he knew.

Whatever gods there are, he thanks them now.

For you and his children, will be his dearest treasures.

epilogue

In the days that followed Gojo Satoshi’s night of nightmares, life settled into a gentle rhythm once more. The worry that had momentarily clouded Satoru’s heart lifted as he watched his son regain his usual spark, chasing after Tsumiki's cat or eagerly helping with simple tasks around the house.

One evening, with the leaves dancing in the breeze outside, you and Satoru decided it was time to share some exciting news with Satoshi. The three of you gathered in the cozy living room, nestled together on the couch as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

“Satoshi,” you began, your voice warm with anticipation. “Your papa and I have something special to tell you.”

Satoshi looked up from his coloring book, his curiosity piqued. “What is it, Mama?”

Satoru took a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he exchanged a meaningful glance with you. “You’re going to be an elder brother, my dearest dawn!” he announced, his voice tinged with joy.

Satoshi blinked, processing the words for a moment before his face lit up in realization. “Wait... really?” he exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement.

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness as you watched your son’s reaction. “Yes, really, little one.” you confirmed, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

Satoru thinks that your son will always be the morning sun.His name is just perfect. He was truly the dawn that made your lives ever so beautiful. It’s the way his smile will make him undone, it will always make him feel like the world is bigger than it actually was. When Satoshi was born, all he could think about was that he filled what was empty in Gojo Satoru’s life. And that will never change. Not even if there is a new little one coming along.

Satoru worried about telling Satoshi, because in these past four, five years — he was the only son. He had gotten doted upon as a little lordling, the only dawn in his parent’s lives. But Satoru feels glad that your son was happy. That Satoshi already loves his little sibling as much as Satoru loves this little baby in your belly already.

Satoshi’s eyes darted between you and Satoru, a thousand questions bubbling up within him. “When will the baby come?” he asked eagerly. “Will the baby be able to play with me?”

“In a few months, little dawn.” Satoru replied, his voice filled with tenderness. “But you’ll have to wait until the baby’s a bit older and stronger to play with them, hm?”

“It’s okay!” Satoshi beams tenderly. “I can wait. I’ll take care of the baby and make sure that they’ll grow up strong!”

“You’ll be the best big brother, Satoshi. We know it.” You smiled at your son, kissing the edge of his brow. “You’re already so kind to them.”

Satoshi beamed with pride, a sense of responsibility settling over him as he realized the importance of his new role. You think that you were truly blessed — to have such an endearing little boy who wants to do nothing but good. Who wants to love as much as he can. Who wants to be as kind as he could. You could see all the good, the wonder, the beauty of your husband in your little boy. And you hope that he will grow up to be just like his father.

“I can’t wait!” he declared, his excitement contagious. “I can’t wait to be a big brother!”

You and Satoru exchanged a glance, delighted by Satoshi's enthusiasm. The room seemed to glow with warmth and anticipation, the air buzzing with the promise of new beginnings. As Satoshi's excitement bubbled over, he jumped up from the couch and threw his arms around both of you in a tight hug, his little face radiant with joy.

“I’ll be the best big brother out there, mama, papa! I swear!”

"You will, my little dawn," you said, squeezing him gently. "And you're going to be amazing at it."

Satoru chuckled warmly, ruffling Satoshi's hair affectionately. "What mama said is correct! You're going to be the best big brother this baby could ask for."

Satoshi grinned from ear to ear, his imagination already racing with thoughts of teaching his new sibling all the things he loved. "I'll teach them how to play jujutsu and how to be brave like Papa! I’m going to be as good as Megumi–oniichan!”

The mention of Megumi was a bit gut-wrenching. Satoru’s eyes dimmed a little, a flicker of sadness passing through them, but he continued to smile, his expression gentle yet tinged with longing. You noticed the shift in his demeanor and pursed your lips, feeling a pang of empathy for the ache he carried.

You could only hope that you and Satoru would be good enough. Good enough to create a home where Megumi would feel welcomed back, where he could find solace and warmth after all he had been through. You hoped that soon enough, Megumi would be by your side again, sharing in the joys and challenges of raising this new baby alongside you both.

Satoru glanced at you, sensing your thoughts, and reached out to gently squeeze your hand, offering silent reassurance and solidarity. He shared your hopes, your dreams of a future where their family would be whole once more. You take his hand and kiss the edge of his hand.

"I want Megumi to be a part of this too," Satoru murmured softly, his voice filled with determination. "I want him to see how much love we have to give, to watch this baby grow as he watched Satoshi grow."

You nodded, feeling a surge of determination and love for the family you were building together. "We'll make it happen," you replied firmly, your voice tinged with quiet resolve. "We'll create a home where Megumi knows he's always welcomed, always loved."

That night was filled with the tender innocence of childhood dreams and the quiet anticipation of parenthood. After tucking Satoshi into bed, his eyes bright with excitement for the sibling yet to come, you and Satoru stood together in the doorway of his room, soaking in the purity of his joy-filled imagination.

Satoshi had whispered animatedly about the adventures he envisioned sharing with the new baby—games in the backyard, secret hideouts in the attic, and bedtime stories where he would be the storyteller, just like Papa. His enthusiasm was infectious, filling the air with a palpable sense of hope and new beginnings.

You and Satoru listened with hearts full of love, cherishing these fleeting moments that held the promise of a growing family. As Satoshi's voice eventually faded into soft snores, you closed his door gently, the sound resonating with the quiet serenity of the night.

Satoru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the hallway light. With a tender smile, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. The warmth of his embrace was reassuring, a silent affirmation of the love and unity you shared.

"I can't wait to see where happiness begins." he murmured, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair. His words held a mix of excitement and wonder, as if he was already imagining the new dynamics their family would soon embrace.

"Me too." you whispered back, leaning into his embrace. The softness of his touch, the steady beat of his heart against yours, filled you with a profound sense of gratitude and anticipation for the future.

In that moment, standing in the quiet hallway bathed in moonlight, you knew that together, you and Satoru look at each other. There was no need for anymore words. You just needed each other. You just needed this moment.

You smiled at him, and he smiles back. Just a little bit more, everything will be over. You will finally live in peace. You’ll be happy. You’ll grow old together. You believe it so. And you wish that it would be enough.

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

Note

Could I request Alpha!Rhaenyra x omega!handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even some soft smut? It doesn’t have to be omegaverse if you’re not comfortable with writing it

Rhaenyra Targaryen*Perzītsos

Pairings: Rhaenyra x handmaiden!f!reader

Warnings: mentions of loss, family death, grieving, smut, fingering, f!recieiving oral, nipple play, pet names, soft smut 18+

Word count: 3110

A/N: trying to pick between emma and millie for a Rhaenyra gif is a near impossible decision

also i wouldve done the omega and alpha things but i havent really read much like that so i didnt wanna accidentally butcher it so i hope this was okay!

Masterlist Here

Translations

Perzītsos (little flame) ñuha dōna (my sweet)

All the servants had lined up, backs pressed against the stone walls of the corridor, waiting for the princess arrival. Heads bowed, hands whipping sweat on their skirts, hushed whispers to see if anyone had caught a glimpse of her yet. The sound of dragon wings batting through the skies alerted you all to her arrival.

Rhaenyra barely looked at anyone, let alone the servants as she walked the halls of her new home. As she spoke to the lords of Dragonstone at the entrance you took the moment to take her in. Her long silver hair was windswept from the fight, cascading down her back, yet somehow not tangled from the flight. She didn’t wear what you would expect of a princess, instead clad in leather and bright red cloth for ease of riding. Her eyes were the softest of lilacs, staring at you like flowers.

Oh fuck! You thought as your eyes snapped to the ground. She had caught your stares and you could only hope from this distance she did not see your embarrassment. What you hadn’t saw was the slight smirk on her face or the way her eyes lingered on you as she passed you by. Your new boss had told you yesterday you would be one of her many handmaidens and not to expect any great things out of washing the princess delicates so to keep your head down. You’d only arrived last week, and you had already made the first mistake.

You had hoped to spend the rest of your life with your family in Old Town even if only as a servant, but a fire had made that impossible. You escaped with your life but had lost it at the same time. One of the lords of the manor you worked in took pity on you and had you sent here so to not have to suffer the memories. Yet Dragonstone was cold, its walls empty and dark, and its people sombre even when greeting their princess.

The princess had been practically locked in her chamber for the past week, barely saying two words to her servants at a time. her eyes would always watch your every move as you cleaned her room. She never even let you do half your tasks and wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her. she was cold but you could not blame her since you too missed home, even if home was so different for you both. “Take these to the princess for her bath,” the head maid shoved a small chest into your hands before stacking towels on top. “She’s in a right grouchy mood for someone who has everything,” the woman muttered as she stomped off.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you set off to the princess’s chambers. they had made you walk this path till your feet felt like they were going to crack to make sure you never got lost however as you stood in front of the door you kind of wish you had got lost. Taking a deep breath, you steadied the chest on your hip and knocked on the heavy wooden door. a moment passed before someone called out, “Come in,”

When your hand took the handle, you hadn’t expected the door to be so heavy. You shuffled forward, shoving the door open by your shoulder as you struggled to move the wood while balancing the chest. When you finally got in the room you were met again with those violet eyes. Rhaenyra smirked as she watched your head drop in embarrassment as you quickly shuffled in the room.

“Need a hand?” she asked as she stood from the bed she had been sitting on.

“It’s alright my princess I’ve got it- “you started to say as you placed the towels on the table beside the steaming hot bath when crash. The chest slipped from your hip and hit the ground, the wooden corner splintering and the top breaking over. “No,” you gasped as you knelt down to try put all the bath salts and fragrances back into the chest.

You heard footsteps but didn’t look up till Rhaenyra’s hand shot out to pick up one of the bottles, “Let me help you,” she said softly, ignoring the way you gaped at her. up close those eyes seemed even more magical, “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes meeting you.

You realised she had picked up all the pieces and quickly went to stand, “Yes princess, thank you princess, princess I- “

“Rhaenyra,” she cut you off.

Pausing for a moment, eyes scrunched in confusion, before you nodded, “Princess Rhaynera I- “your sentence was cut off by her soft giggles.

“No please just call me Rhaenyra. In my chambers at least. Id like some form of normalcy at least,” Rhaenyra said as she stood up, but she did not move back as you began to lay out the bath supplies on the table. It seemed almost that she stepped closer. “What is your name?” she asked, her breath brushing the back of your neck.

You turned around, trying to stand tall, as you told her. “A beautiful name,” she said, her lips finally curved into a smile. It suited her face far better than her usual melancholy. “Are you here to ready the bath?”

“Yes pri- “you said, stopping suddenly with an awkward smile, “Rhaenyra. It will only be a few moments longer,”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, a slight laugh in her voice as she stepped away to begin taking her jewellery off.

As you poured the salts in you decided to try actually speaking to her, perhaps she just missed conversation you thought. “I can help you with that,” you said causing her to spin round, “if you give me a moment of course,” you said as you stirred the salts in before picking up the bottle of fragrance the king had sent in spades for her.

“I know how to take my own jewellery off,” she said, turning away again.

“I did not mean to offend you,” you said quietly as the sweet smell filled the room, “I just like to be of help,”

Rhaenyra chuckled as she sat her jewels down, small things that cost more than your life, “I don’t think anyone could help me truly,” she said as she began to tie her hair up.

“Maybe,” you said as you laid out the towels, “but you never know till you ask. My mother always told me that,” you said, pausing for a moment in the sweet memory. She had always been so positive.

Rhaenyra paused briefly before finishing her hair. “Mothers always seem so wise,” she said as she looked out the window, “Till they die that is,” she muttered as her hands moved to try unstringing the laces behind her back.

“You don’t miss the fire till it’s gone cold,” you said as you checked the waters temperature, deciding the bath was in fact ready. Rhaenyra turned round with a questioning look, abandoning her futile attempts to undress herself, “That’s what my lord told me when I lost mine. Would you like me to get the laces princess?” you asked, somehow managing to stay calm as you spoke.

Rhaenyra nodded and you moved to stand behind her, gently loosening the dress, “Do you miss her?” Rhaenyra asked as the dress was loose enough for her to slip off her shoulders.

“Everyday,” you said as you picked up the heavy fabric and attempted to fold it.

“Me too,” she sighed as she moved to help you fold the dress, “Does it get easier?”

“No,” you said honestly as you bundled the gown into a drawer, “but it hurts less, in time,”

Rhaenyra didn’t say anything as she walked towards the bath. You silently helped her slip into the hot water, her shift going see through in the water, but you quickly averted your eyes. “Goodnight Rhaenyra,” you said as you bowed your head and went to leave.

“Wait,” she called out as your hand rested on the door handle, “Could you stay?” she said, her voice going quiet as she averted her gaze, “You could brush my hair?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course,” you smiled back at her, “It would be my pleasure princess- “

“Rhae,” she said cutting you off. “Call me Rhae,” she said as she settled back in the water.

“Okay Rhae,” you said as you moved a stool to sit behind her bath and took a brush in your hand, “Lean back,” you said as you took down her hair and began to brush.

Rhaenyra began requesting you daily for certain tasks. You would be the one to brush her hair, help her dress, arrange her bath. At first Rhaenyra would listen to your stories as you did your chores. She was nearly always silent when you did so, asking maybe one or two questions the whole time but always insisting you continued when you stopped.

Then she began to tell you, her stories. About her first time on a dragon, about her father’s new wife, and her mother’s death. Slowly she opened up more and more. You began to see her outside of chores. She’d have you sneak out to join her dinners or even a few times let you meet her dragon with the promise of a ride on it one day. Your meetings got longer and her words sweeter. Her hand began to linger when she would pass you the brush or your hands rested a moment too long on her shoulders until the day you kissed her without even thinking.

You had been helping her dress and had moved to her front to adjust the material. “All done,” you said, suddenly looking up from where your head had been tilted down to fix the bodice when your nose brushed against hers. Her lips brushed yours as your head moved up, her eyes gazing into yours and without a thought or a word you leaned forward closing the gap. It was a short but soft kiss, and you pulled back, wide eyed and almost teary as you expected to be scolded when Rhaenyra stepped forward.

Her lips crashed onto yours, her hands moving to hold your back and press you into her tighter. Your hands had been trapped between your bodies and snaked up her front to rest on her shoulders. This kiss was desperate, hungry, and so needy that you didn’t part for air till your head grew dizzy. “You shall dine with me tonight,” she whispered, her forehead resting on yours, “and I will count down the minutes till I return to find you in these chambers,”

That had been weeks ago. Now you lay in a bed of fine silks and furs, a silver haired girl laying with her head on your chest as you stroked her soft strands. “Rhae?” you asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered back. You couldn’t help but smile at her voice, “I’m just enjoying your company Perzītsos,” little flame, she whispered still in the quiet room only lit by a few candles. She had given you one of her shifts to wear as you settled into the bed with her, and it felt like clouds on your skin. “Is that wrong of me?” she asked as she brought your hand to her mouth to kiss.

“Not at all zaldrīzes,” you said, kissing the top of her head.

“Your Valyrian is improving,” you could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

You smiled down at the girl curled in your lap, “Only because of my teacher,” you said.

Rhaenyra shuffled and moved to sit up, her legs draped over your lap as she curled into you, her head resting on your shoulder, “It is easy to teach such a willing student,” she praised, kissing your check.

You turned your head, resting your forehead on hers before capturing her kiss. Her hand moved to hold your cheeks while yours softly squeezed her hip. Without a word Rhaenyra moved to straddle your legs before crashing her lips back to yours, holding your face gently. The kiss was comfortable, the type of kiss you melt into. Your hands moved from her hips to her back, pressing her chest into yours as she led the kiss.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped down from your face between your bodies, resting over the thin fabric covering your chest. “Patience little one,” she giggled as she pushed back, “Good things come to those who wait,”

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time Nyra,” you panted before rejoining your lips, your hands slipping down to squeeze her ass over her shift.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped off your body but only for a moment to pull off the thin fabric covering her body. “That’s better,” she said as she as she placed your hands back on the soft flesh of her ass as her hands began to gently squeeze your chest.

Her lips became more feverous, but Rhaenyra was careful not to burn you, always going softer on her favourite hand maiden. Rhaenyra’s hips began to grind down, signalling to you without words. One of your hands slipped from her back to her front, moving between your bodies to run a finger up her cunt, “So wet for me,” you praised with a slight smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she giggled as she pulled you back in.

Your fingers trailed up and down her wet folds for only a few moments before slowly pushing into her entrance. Rhaenyra moaned into the kiss as your fingers slipped in, your thumb positioned to rub slow circles into her clit which you had worked over so many times now. Rhaenyra began to slowly buck her hips on your fingers, fucking herself slowly as your fingers curled.

Her moans were soft and mixed with gasps as you began to kiss down her jaw and neck. The soft skin was like a drug as your lips moved down to nip at her collarbones. Your spare hand moved from her ass to her chest as you began to kiss her chest before taking one of her hardened nipples into your mouth, sucking on it gently, “Yes,” Rhaenyra moaned softly as your fingers began to trace her hardened bud, “Don’t stop,”

“Whatever you want,” you whispered before lightly biting the bud with your teeth.

“You,” she gasped, “I want you,” she moaned as your fingers curled into that all too familiar spot. The way her hips began to buck was a familiar sight. your hand moved from her chest to her hips to hold them in place as you helped her moan out in ecstasy, curling your fingers still as she rode out her orgasm before collapsing into your arms.

Rhaenyra’s head rested on your shoulder for a moment as she caught her breath. Your hands moved to rub soft circles into her back, holding her close. After a few moments Rhaenyra lifted her head to leave a soft kiss onto your lips, “Your turn,” she whispered.

“It’s okay princess- “

“Let me take care of you,” she interrupted, brushing your hair out of your face, “Lay down little one. I want to hear you,” she said as she moved to let you lay on the soft sheets.

Her eyes raked over you body, the shift doing little to cover your modesty. Rhaenyra sat next to you, reaching out to trace your hardened nipples over your clothes, “So pretty,” she muttered before she moved lean over your body. She kissed your lips before trailing down your body, leaving kisses down your skin till she reached your thighs.

Rhaenyra left several kisses up the sensitive skin while you shivered from her touch. Her soft breath fanned over your wet cunt, already making your body tense. You breathed in sharply when she placed a sudden kiss to your clit, your hands gripping the fine sheets. “Relax,” she whispered with a teasing tone, “Trust me little one,” she said as she moved your thighs over her shoulders, “Let me hear your sweet sounds,” she said before licking a soft stripe up your folds.

Your hands tightened around the sheets as Rhaenyra began to lap up your juices, softly at first but with growing hunger. She moved her head till her nose brushed your clit, making your body jerk. Rhaynera hands wrapped around your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as she began to fuck you with her tongue.

You could feel the knot growing in your stomach and you did your best to stay quiet, but Rhaenyra was not making it easy. One of her hands released your thigh only for her to begin teasing your hole with her fingers. Rhaenyra slowly eased two fingers into you, curling them slowly inside you as her mouth moved up to place open mouth kisses to your clit. Her tongue massaged your bundle of nerves while her fingers began to brush over that one particular spot.

Your soft moans filled the chambers and the fear of someone entering didn’t even faze you as your body tightened. When you felt her begin to lightly suck on your clit you could feel your peak ready to tip so when her teeth grazed the bundle of nerves you began to crash on her tongue, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets.

Rhaenyra didn’t stop even as your thighs tightened around her head. You felt your body might break in half as her mouth seemed to get more determined to milk another out of you. it didn’t take long till your body was jerking as you tried to almost fight off the second orgasm, but it was futile once her fingers curled to hit your sweet spot and you came again on her face.

This time Rhaenyra came up for air as you lay in bed, half dazed as you stared at the ceiling. “You were so good for me,” Rhaenyra praised as she lay beside you, brushing the hair out of your face, “Can I hold you little one?” she asked, raising your hand to her lips and to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, shuffling slightly so that Rhaenyra could lay behind you, her arms wrapped around your front while her head buried into the crook of your neck. “Get some sleep darling,” Rhaenyra said, kissing your shoulder, “I’ll be here in the morning,”

“Okay,” you whispered as you felt Rhaenyra shuffle and suddenly a thick blanket fell over you both, “Gnight Rhae,” you said, already half asleep,”

“Goodnight Perzītsos,”

Taglist @clairacassidy @starkleila @valeskafics

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adelheidvonschicksal · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Megumi x F!Reader

Content: mild sexual mentions, fluff, loving Megumi hours.

Summary: Megumi has it bad for you. That's it. That's the prompt.

Megumi often dreamed of this moment.

Your fingers linger on his stomach, right under his belly button. Whether you’re afraid to let that touch grace the skin hidden further up his shirt or you’re savoring the moment, he doesn’t know; both scenarios leave his brain feeling pleasantly yet frustratingly fuzzy all the same.

He’s never known the pleasure of someone’s touch in such an intimate place, not unless they were sealing his wounds. Your touch is softer than he’s imagined, warm and familiar but new and frightening.

Megumi told himself that if there was ever a day he was alone with you like this then he’d be ready. He wouldn’t be too quiet, too heavy in his thoughts, or too rough around the edges. Someone like you deserves smooth and rounded, a person who knows what they want. He can be those things for you in time and wants to be that for you now more than ever.

However, he was never good at the mental aspects of things so it’s as awkward and quiet as always but also loud because he swears he can hear his blood swishing in his ears. Nobara would probably laugh at him if she was here, say he’d never get a girlfriend if he didn’t learn to lighten up and stop overthinking; Gojo would definitely agree, tell him this is one of those times he should take what he wants with both hands; Itadori, well, at least Itadori would be on his side.

“Megumi?”

You lean into him, mouth inches from his, and all he can focus on is your lips and the painful way they tug. He wants to apologize for bringing that frown to your face when all he wants to do is make you smile. You have such a gorgeous smile.

“Something’s bothering you.” Your hand leaves his waist, trails past his ribcage, and finds a home above his heart. “Do you not want to do this?”

Megumi does. He wants to do this with you so bad that his chest is burning. He pads his thumbs against your hips to keep you from feeling how hard he is when all you’ve done is sit in his lap. He wants to be inside you, to hear your breathless voice whispering his name; he wants to show how desperately he loves you; he wants you to know that he loves you so much, much more than you could ever love him back.

But how could he when every time he embraces someone making a space for him in their heart it goes wrong? An injury, a death. What gives him the right to curse you too?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he manages, somehow.

“You won’t.” Your voice goes soft as you teeter on the edge of shy honesty and embarrassment, “I, uh, I’ve done a few things before so it’s okay if you’re a little rough.”

“That’s not what I mean, I…” He closes his eyes tight as if it would wake him up from a terrible dream. “I’m not good at relationships.”

Megumi is so painfully inexperienced. He knows well enough that he looks mean at first glance, like he sets oil-sulked gulls on fire, and it’s true that he can be cruel, and selfish, and his moral compass is about as good as a ship without a rudder at times. There’s no doubt that he’ll make you cry more than once but he’d be willing to make up for it again and again until you’re sick of him and the shadows that blanket him. When that day happens, he isn’t sure how he’ll pick up the scattered pieces of his heart but your fingers rowing through the tangled mess of his hair and your lower body closing the gap he once made between you is enough to make him not care.

Your eyes are gossamer, bright, and delicate as they take him in. “I told you I don’t mind if it’s a little rough.”

To prove your answer true, you slot your lips against his. His fingers dig tighter into your hips, clothes crumpling in his fumbled grasp. He slumps then melts against you, and the happy sigh leaving you fully sears your name in his mind and your fingers settling on his collar bones brand your touch into his skin.

You don’t realize it as your tongue slides into his mouth and his hands disappear under your dress, skimming the back of your legs, but this moment would ruin him for anyone else.

When the two of you separate, he can see nothing in the room but you.

Megumi doesn’t care about the looks of others. He cares more about what lies underneath, and underneath you is compassion, kindness, and himself, but in this position, with your body flush against his, his hands cupping your backside, he might have to call Todou, tell him that he lied, that he did have a preference after all.

“You’re so perfect.”

Megumi will have to apologize to Itadori as well for grumbling at him to stop saying such corny things about his own girlfriend when they’re together.

“And you’re so pretty,” you say in hushed whispers, and when you connect again, it’s with your face nuzzled to his neck, layering kisses down the curve and over his shoulder.

It’s so warm; his head won’t stop spinning; the weight of your body on his is overwhelming in the best way, and he blurts out unceremoniously, “I like you.”

When you pause to look at him, he finds himself repeating it.

“I like you,” he announces, even then the words aren’t quite right. He more than likes you, so he repeats it again as if you aren’t already aware that he has it bad for you (as if Gojo hasn’t made it so clearly obvious time and time again). “I really like you.”

You giggle at him, and he groans.

It’s so embarrassing that he’s almost blushing, but the sound is still so silky sweet, and he’s the one that made you do it. So, he doesn’t regret it as you lovingly return, “I like you too.”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro x reader #notsfw #adelssmut

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moxfirefly · 1 year ago

Note

I love your writing so much and how you write the turtle just ugh ♥️ So I’ve been in my very angsty mood lately so I’m thinking of Raphael x F!reader? If you don’t mind?

The reader is a anti-hero type of character doesn’t feel like a good influence on Raph who is more of the hero type. Especially since his family are against the relationship because of the reader’s morals so they have her second guessing herself. Raphael disagrees with his family and is a stubborn mofo as usual. Lmao

"Why are you running? Why is it that every time I get close to you, you take off? What are you so scared of?"

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

Listen I’m having a heart attack at having you in my inbox because I’m a HUGE HUGE fan of yours and like yeah, no pressure, I’m fine, I’m alright,

Rated Mature (suggestive themes)

There were many instances where you could feel Leo burning a hole through the back of your head, the grimace he sported the second he could spot you out on the open was enough to make your eyes roll. You knew having him be anything but pissy wasn’t going to be an option when Raph had told you about him.

The tallest one wasn’t any different, he was subtle sure but you’ve changed enough cellphones in 3 months just paranoid over being tapped. He observed, calculated, probably thought up of ways of his own to sabotage.

The youngest seemed stuck between feeling joy for his older brother but the worry was there, the second guessing resonated in his blue eyes whenever you rode up in your motorcycle looking a little worse for wear. What had you been doing the week you’d gone radio silent? Why could he smell blood on you? Why were your knuckles so bruised?

It was natural for Raphael’s family to want to shield him, Splinter especially, it was normal that you came from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks.

But couldn’t they see?

You cared for him, deeply. Wanted him, desired him, he made the bullshit somehow fade away.

But those cold gazes, the ironic judgment they held the second Raph ran off towards you, you could picture it.

So when Raph ran, so did you.

Somehow keeping a step away to his forward steps.

Because now whenever he reached out you felt a twinge of unworthiness at his touch.

Because maybe you were as bad as they thought you were, maybe you were a bad influence, something sent to break him apart and condemn.

You wrist hurt from holding onto the throttle, the ride back into the city an all too familiar one. You could feel your phone vibrate in the inside pocket of your jacket and while could guess, you tried to ignore it.

Maybe it due time to quietly slip away, Raph was good, he was a genuinely good man who stood for what he did. Why corrupted him (were you?) why give this a death sentence? (Was it?) why hurt yourself more? (Will it hurt more when you leave?)

You pulled into the subterranean garage of the apartment building you’d taken up residence in. You walked the bike towards the spot and sighed. Your hands were shaking, vibrating from the buzzing of the night ride.

“Ya planning on just never answering?” It came from the shadows, the deep baritone you often heard in your brain at all hours of the day.

Raph stepped out of the dark corner of the garage with a tension in his shoulders that must’ve ached. Taking off your helmet and setting it on the bike, you watched from your tousled locks at a man you found peace in.

Leaving peace behind wouldn’t be easy.

“It was a busy night, came back into the city just now.” You kept your gaze adverted, anywhere where it wouldn’t hurt to see worries green eyes staring back.

“It’s been a week, kid…what’s going on?” What did I do?

Was all you could hear deep within the swallowing of his throat.

“Nothing, had a job, did the job, took longer.” You hated how dry you sounded, sandpaper words that could damage those scales of his.

When Raph took a step to greet you, touch you, you took a small one back.

When you chanced a look at him, well it was easier to eat glass than watch that look.

“Raph—“

“Why are you running? Why is it that every time I get close to you, you take off? What are you so scared of?” He was close now, a large mitt reaching for your chin, gently oh so painfully gently caressing the outline of your jaw. You looked up, eyes shaky from finding any way to let him go, to push him away.

“You know why—“

He didn’t let you finish again.

“I don’t fucking care, this is what I want, you, I want you.” He cupped your cheek, small and vulnerable against his large palm.

You drowned in the possibility of leaving him, so when you remained silent, didn’t say anything, Raph leaned down.

“I’m going to kiss you. Okay? Just…Just let me kiss you.” The need in his voice, the want so visceral it made you feel it all the same.

When Raph’s lips met yours, for those little moments you allowed yourself the luxury of greed.

#ask #silentturtle #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt Raphael #tmnt Raph #raphael x reader #raph x reader #Raphael #Raph #emotional? prompts

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narrynukezankielover · 6 months ago

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This scene in Meta Fiction is amazing. They’re not even in the same city and yet they are having a moment. I find it funny though that Cas is talking to both Dean and Sam about the sign he found that’s attracting angels and then when Dean answers his question about the honour bar they start to have a private conversation and they both look soooo happy. Cas asks Dean how he is. Cas doesn’t know about Dean having the mark of Cain on his arm yet and he never once asked Sam how he is so he just wanted to talk to Dean alone. Sam is still sitting right there next to Dean and you can tell he’s thinking do you two realize I’m still here. Sam then talks to get the conversation back to the sign and you can see Dean is a bit annoyed.

I have no idea if this is the real Gabriel or not but at this point Cas thinks it is. Gabriel called Cas Deans boy toy and Cas just smiled and then rolled his eyes then when Cas asked about what Gabriel has seen he said you mean after it was raining winged men hallelujah? The song It’s Raining Men is a gay song so it sounds like Gabriel (if it’s really him) or Metatron (since in the episode he wrote this scene) is calling Cas gay. Thing is it’s hard to tell if Cas knows about the song or not. Knowing Cas he probably doesn’t so he probably didn’t pick up on that. Obviously all the angels know about Cas and Dean so it’s not a big thing for an angel to call Cas Deans boy toy or gay but usually he gets a bit shy when someone says something this time he didn’t which leads me to think maybe he talked to the real Gabriel about Dean. They are brothers and by the sounds of it Cas seems pretty comfortable around him. There were some funny scenes with them like Cas not paying attention in the store and Gabriel having to turn his head for him which I’ve read was unscripted because Misha wasn’t paying attention so Rich (I believe I got his name right) just moved his head for him. It would be nice to have him in more scenes with Cas and Dean because I have a feeling he’d be like Sam knowing about them and letting them have their moments but he’d probably come out and say I’m still in the room.

This is cute. Dean is worried to death about Cas since he hasn’t called or texted him and he put the GPS on Cas phone. I’m assuming after what happened when Cas was human and all the angels were trying to kill him and by the time Dean and Sam got to him he got killed that Dean decided that wasn’t going to happen again so he put the GPS on Cas phone so he could get to him before other angels could. It’s funny though that Sam is wondering what happened to Cas but he’s not worried and when Dean tells him to go find Cas Sam is like I don’t want to go.

Cas knew there was something different about Dean but he didn’t know what until Dean touched him. I’d like to know if Cas felt like a burning or something from the mark of Cain or if he just somehow knew because he just grabbed Deans arm and pulled up his sleeve.

I love this part in ep 22 because it shows how much Cas has changed. Finding out that angels are killing other angels because they think Cas told them to makes him feel sick. It just shows how different he is from other angels because the other angels probably wouldn’t care.

The next two scenes are a great example of Sam knows. Cas says that he would never make an angel die to kill another angel and he is hurt that Dean thinks that he would and that Dean brought up the time Cas thought he was god. Sam has to get Cas and Dean into another room away from the angels and tells Dean basically that that’s in the past and then when Cas and Sam are in the car together Sam has to calm Cas down telling him that it’s the mark making Dean act that way.

This scene proves that it’s the mark that made Dean say that stuff because here Dean tells the reaper that what she said about Cas doesn’t sound like the Cas he knows. Which means he knows Cas has done some bad stuff in the past (they all have) but he also knows that Cas has changed.

Don’t loose it over one man. She could mean the army but she could also mean falling in love. Dean doesn’t look scared at all. He knows Cas wouldn’t hurt him. Cas couldn’t kill Dean when he was being mind controlled and being told to kill Dean there’s no way in hell he’d be able to kill Dean when he’s himself. Cas doesn’t even think about it he grabs the sword and says he can’t.

This scene is interesting because they both already admitted to themselves that they love the other but here it’s like they know that the other loves them but they are choosing to ignore it because they are scared. Dean went from yelling at Sam, telling him that they aren’t a team that its a dictatorship and that he is in charge to literally two seconds later talking nice and sweet to Cas telling him that the three of them will fight Metatron and being worried about Cas stolen grace. Cas has very good hearing being an angel so he had to of heard Dean and Sams conversation and heard how different Dean talked to him as opposed to how he talked to Sam. Cas asked Dean if he really thought he told the angels to kill other angels and Dean said you just gave up an army for one man no I don’t think you did that. Clearly they know what’s going on. Lastly when Gadreel came in the room Dean almost ran to get between Cas and Gadreel. Cas is a strong angel even with stolen grace and yet Dean still wants to protect him. I have no idea how strong Gadreel is but I’m sure he’s stronger than a human.

#castiel #cockles #dean x castiel #destiel #deancas

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faerievampling · 10 months ago

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Killing Time

Chapter 5: Pink

Word Count: 5.2k

Pairing: Soft Ascended!Astarion x female Tav/Reader

Link to AO3!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+. Explicit. PiV. Anal Sex. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Blowjob. Handjob. Creampie. Body worship. Overstimulation. Possessive behavior. Soft Ascended Astarion.

A/N: Lots of smut in this chapter and A!Astarion being horny and soft for his vampire wife. Next chapter will be lots of fun. Hope you guys enjoy <3 im either sorry for the word count bc it got out of hand orrrr you love a healthy word count and you're welcome :)

Pic by: @cheekylittlepupp<3

When Kith’rak Elan assigned Astarion’s group to a new training room, you were almost certain Astarion wouldn’t allow it: but he hadn’t fought the decision, thank the gods, because he was starting to embarrass you, and you don’t think you could have handled another blunder.

You hadn’t realized how annoying a doting husband could be until you arrived at the Crystalline Spire. You were used to spending a lot of time with Astarion and being adored by him, but it had been long since anyone treated you the way the gith did; it had brought out a different side of your vampire, seeing his darling with so much responsibility again.

Astarion, his anxieties steadily increasing, had become insistent on having some part of his body touching you whenever possible: this wasn’t unusual for the two of you, but he had gotten rather forceful about it.

Back home, you and Astarion subjugated all that surrounded you; Astarion handled most things, leaving you with little interaction with the ‘outside world’. Your world was your life and marriage with Astarion, and you had been happy with that arrangement for many centuries.

In turn, Astarion had relatively little experience handling his own emotions when it came to seeing you outside the safety of your home. You could sense his discomfort when you weren’t in his line of view; his anxieties would only grow into frustration from there: if you were so far Astarion couldn’t detect your scent, you were to expect his constant presence in your mind, especially after what happened on the hunt.

There was one day Astarion had interrupted your training session because he wanted to be with you. Chae and several of the others giggled when you had obeyed, earning them a wretched glare from Astarion.

“Who were they laughing at?” Astarion asked as you sat in his lap, your back pressed to his muscular form; he smoothed your hair with his free hand as his other arm was wrapped around you, wrist in your mouth as you fed on his delicious essence. He had to ask you twice to get you to answer.

“Me, mostly. Chae and Quinel laugh because they think I’m a pleasure slave to you. Marg’o giggles only because she finds you dashing.Many of them don’t realize I can read their thoughts and hear their whispers.”

Astarion had only hummed in reply before flawlessly maneuvering your weight in his hands, putting his sweet little consort whenever he needed her to be.

****

It takes Astarion far longer than you’d anticipated to explain the death of the spawn to you. After he told you not to fret over it, you decided to listen, leaving it in the back of your busy mind for another day.

But when Astarion finally tells you the dead spawn is Marwa, you understand what has happened.

“You’ve been spying back on Moth.” Your tone is accusatory, but you knew there was no other reason why Marwa could have been killed in such a way: she must have been caught, and was left out in the sun to burn.

You had already decided not to chide Astarion about refusing to grant the other spawn his gifts. You already knew that was a generally ‘off-limits’ topic for the Ancuníns.

You and Astarion sit cross legged on your bed facing each other, knee to knee. Ever since Astarion had somehow managed to have the gith find the two of you your own room, separate from your underlings, it had allowed for more open and intimate contact.

It had been good for you, because there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to be in Astarion’s arms after a long day. But it had been…not so good for Astarion, who was beginning to only crave you more, his resentment for this entire journey only increasing as the days went on. Especially when his sending stone never stopped pinging; at some point, Astarion would have to tuck it away, ignoring the messages of the empire and likely whatever communication the spawn would have with him telepathically.

You knew there was far more at play than you realized. You had just never really cared before; not for a very long time, anyways.

Astarion massages your fingers and palms. Although your vampiric regeneration would ensure no lasting injuries, it didn’t exclude you from feeling stiff: you were undead, after all, and being stiff just came with the territory.

But your use of so many unpracticed muscles in such a short amount of time had you aching in ways you had forgotten.

“You need to stretch more,” Astarion says as he stews over the Marwa discussion. He began to inspect your nails, his fingers gently tugging on your joints. “It’s a shame that you prefer to use your gorgeous hands in battle. It makes you smell more gith than I’d like.”

You roll your eyes. “Everywhere smells like gith. We're at a crèche, darling.”

Astarion narrows his eyes at you, suddenly looking focused. “What else am I to do? How else am I to gather information?” You were back to Marwa. “Maybe you don’t realize, my darling, that Marwa has been a spy for me for half a millenia. I’ve sent her on countless missions. She’s been to Moth’s estate many times.”

“And now she’s dead.” A part of you thinks about Marwa, and you realize you didn’t know anything about her beyond what her capabilities and usefulness to Astarion was. Hmm.

Astarion laughs. “You’re not wrong, but by the gods are you adorable when you worry about our little family.”

Astarion brings his head towards your palm, planting a kiss in its center before moving his way up your wrist, motioning you underneath him as his pretty lips trail their way to your neck, leaving you feeling tingly at the sensation.

You pull away, narrowing your eyes at him. “You don’t take me seriously, do you?”

“Come now, pet, why do you say that? Do you really mean to criticize how I choose to protect our family? To protect what’s mine?” Astarion playfully plants kisses on your cheek—you feel the flutter of his lashes on your temple, making you shiver from the closeness.

“No, I just…I don’t want the situation to become worse. What if he finds us here?” Your eyes are wide as he moves to meet your gaze. Astarion is scowling.

“Why are you even thinking about these things, Tav? Do you not trust me to protect you?” But Astarion stops there, because he recognizes your apprehension: a feeling similar to the unease you felt before Lae’zel’s arrival.

That unease that was connected to your psychic foresight, the one you were born with that seemingly amplified once you turned into a vampire—the very one that Astarion was now silently cursing for its uselessness.

“A spawn has never died before.” You emphasize this, that in the two millennia of your vampiric lives, firsts don’t often occur.

“Yes, and?” Astarion’s thinking he’s already handled everything and doesn’t understand your upset.

“I’m a spawn. If Moth can kill Marwa—“

Astarion places two fingers atop the plump of your lip, preventing you from speaking further. He’s shushing you, but you grab his wrist and pull his hand away, your eyes burning with frustration as you bring yourself back up to a seat, Astarion allowing you to maneuver freely.

“Don’t hush me like that, I-I don’t like that.” You think about how the other day, Joss kept interrupting you during your tracking lesson. It annoyed you to no end, and it particularly penetrated your cool exterior when Astarion did it.

Astarion blinks at you, surprised that you corrected his behavior. You often told him what you wanted, but that was about material things, like servants and dresses and invitations (once, long ago, you had to tell Astarion to stop inviting Lord Renald to your parties. That man stank to the high heavens despite all the gaudy perfume he wore.) but not often (if ever) about intimate things, such as how Astarion touched you.

Astarion was the one who decided that: by whom and how you were touched. There wasn’t any part of your body unexplored or off-limits to him.

Astarion’s eyes are dark as he rests his hand on your chest, index finger gently caressing your collarbone. “And I didn’t like the way you were speaking.”

“I am your spawn, though. You call me that often enough, you remind me often.”

Astarion brings his hand to cup your jaw, urging you to meet his gaze. “We’ve discussed this before, do we really need to go over it again? You’re my consort. My wife. You are the only one who has supped my blood.”

“But you were created for me,” Astarion directs at you as his lips find yours once again, his tongue seemingly desperate to be inside your mouth. You think maybe he just wants you to stop talking, but his hardened cock does make you realize his intentions aren’t all that calculated.

But Astarion, no stranger to understanding the value in communicating with his consort, reluctantly brings his lips away from the only object he truly desires. “You are mine, Tav. It doesn’t matter what you are, only that I’ve given everything I possibly could to you, since the very moment we became beholden to one another back at Moonrise Towers.”

This was entirely true, and it softens you a bit. Astarion, seeing the way your eyes open and your mouth parts, those cute little fangs he gave you peeking out from the plush pads of your pretty lips; he can no longer help himself, and decides he needs to be inside of you, because it had been far too long for the living vampire to have been without his wife in his arms.

Astarion’s lips find purchase on yours once more: they are sloppy, uncontrolled, his desire for you running to his very core. It was like it was in his very nature to love you.

“You’re far stronger than the spawn are. And you're always under my especially watchful eye, as you know. How lucky you are, I made you my bride.” Astarion is nearly lost in the bliss of your body as he pushes you on your back, bringing the hem of your nightgown up to accommodate himself between your legs.

You’re cursing yourself for being panty-less, because the moment Astarion has access to your holes, he’s searching, his fingers desperate to be inside your body.

“Then why do you call me that?” Your voice comes between your fervent, fractured kisses, which halts to a pause once you’ve asked your question. It doesn’t stop Astarion from sinking a finger between your folds, his eyes watching you as you take him.

Astarion lifts your dress above your breasts, a sight he particularly loved. He removes his finger to drink in the sight of you.

There was something about seeing his darling girl, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from his blood, with something so innocent as a modest nightgown pushed away without a care in the world, exposing you to him as if he was in a hurry. As if he was taking you like a thief in the night, desperate not to be caught.

Like you were a sweet little secret of his.

Astarion tugs at your hardening nipple, but you ease yourself up on your elbows, eyebrows knitted together in a frustrated, reluctant pleasure.

“I’m trying to say something serious, Astarion…” You say as he moves himself to your dripping cunt, his head resting on your thigh as he gently tugs the folds of your labia, spreading them, exposing your swollen clit and tight entrance; only breaking eye contact to take in the sight of your open sex.

“And we’ll work it out, my love,” Astarion mewls, his racing heartbeat and dilated pupils making it apparent that this was a man, who, although his enthusiastic passion for fucking his wife was admirable, had no real intention of addressing the problem anymore.

Lost in the sauce. An odd phrase you had heard from Zii’ro and Joss. This must be an iteration of the meaning of that phrase.

He begins to crawl up to you, but you place your foot on his chest, pushing him away as your enchanted anklets clank together, creating a little chime at your movement. This stopped him in his tracks, but he only looks even more turned on from your denial.

You realize the little foot move might’ve been a mistake. This man would likely find a way to fuck it: if it was attached to you, he’d find a way.

Astarion swiftly frees his cock with one hand, the other gripping your ankle as he brings your foot down to his shaft, rubbing his length on your arch.

“You are such a freak,” you say, shaking your head, having nearly forgotten your plight as you try pulling your ankle away from him. “This is hardly ‘working it out’.”

“What is it that you want, then?” Astarion says as he grabs your other ankle, dragging your hips to him before pressing his body between your legs, both hands tangling in your hair as his hard cock rests on your lower belly, balls on your soaked center. “You know you need only ask, my sweet consort.”

You felt the wet lips of your cunt nearly suckling on his skin, the friction of its increasing slickness due to the mess you were making on him sending a shiver throughout your body.

His ruby eyes glittered with lust, his curls falling down the sides of his face; his breath on you smelled so good, evident of the life inside of him, making your stomach growl at the mere thought of his crimson essence.

Fuck and feed, you think. Focus, you animal!

Lae’zel had told you to be direct with your warriors. To tell them of the expectations and goals. Why couldn’t this extend to your relationship?

“I don’t want you to call me spawn anymore,” You say as you do your best to keep your voice from wavering under his intense glare.

“You’ve a lot of interesting demands today, don’t you, my love?” Astarion speaks evenly, considering your words. “You act as though I say that anywhere but in private. As I’ve said, you aren’t just some spawn. But you are a spawn of mine: my offspring. It’s one of the countless things I adore about you. It’s what makes you so perfect to me, so perfect for me.”

You take an involuntary breath, gasping as he comes to plant his lips on yours, nipping at your skin just enough to draw blood, to taste your essence before he languidly plunges his tongue in your mouth.

You moan into him, his words inspiring something deep within you, but you still aren’t satisfied.

“Besides, you know why. It gets my cock hard to hear you call me ‘Master’, and you don’t seem to mind it,” He teases, his tone still playful, but his words rooted in a painful truth. “Especially when you want something. So why should I not be able to call you ‘spawn’ in turn?”

You were guilty of using the term to butter him up, that much was true. “I just don’t like it. Do I need a reason other than It hurts my feelings? That should be enough for you.”

Astarion sighs. “You know I will give you what you desire. But why now? What’s changed?”

“I’ve never liked it, as you very well know.” You darken with these words, and it reflects in Astarion, who is feeling a pang of guilt that he doesn’t hide. “Lae’zel taunts me with it, countless of the gith categorize me as such, as if it’s a weakened state, that I’m a pitiful thing for being your spawn. And now, with Marwa dead…” Tears threaten your eyes, but you and Astarion don’t break eye contact: the two of you're locked into a state so deep, you couldn’t pull away if you tried. But you’re choked up now, and you can’t really speak.

Being able to telepathically communicate with your lover at any given time was a blessing. “I feel weak, Astarion. I know I can trust you to protect me. I just wish I commanded the same respect I once did: the same respect you have.”

Astarion props himself up, curls falling out of place as he gazes down at you, handsome as ever. His ruby eyes are wide, open and receptive, but disturbed by what you’d told him.

“If that’s truly how you feel, my love, then we can surely command their respect by slaughtering every last one of them and ending this silly war ourselves. We’d be doing Vlaakith a favor.” Astarion’s nose crinkles and twists in anger. “They surely wouldn’t be disrespecting my wife with their last breaths. Maybe contemplating your neverending beauty. But honestly, that might not be palatable to me either.”

“No—that’s certainly not what I meant!” You exclaim, your hand flying to Astarion’s chest, pausing over the strong beat of his heart.

“I know, Tav,” Astarion says, his tone playful and knowing as his hand wraps around his cock, bringing it back from its half-hardened state. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Astarion rolls onto his back, signaling you between his legs, where you begin to kiss his taut abdomen, worshiping his sculpted form with your lips and tongue. “But only if you make love to me with your mouth, my darling girl.”

****

“The celebration begins tomorrow, Ancunín,” Kith’rak Elan chides at your beloved. “Where is your wife this morning, I wonder?”

You chose not to squeak at him, despite Astarion daring you.

”Safely nestled inside my pocket, Kith’rak. Laundry day; you know how it is.” You imagine the smirk Astarion must have on his face as he pets the top of your head with the tip of his finger. You were nestled against his chest inside his pocket, not wanting to be disturbed today.

You had become mentally exhausted over the course of the two tenday you had been at the crèche; between the rigorous training, the meetings, all the interaction—it had burnt you out.

Dealing with your battalion had been a chore—no, a nightmare. There was one night where you and Astarion held each other while you scanned his memories of the gith you had met two thousand years ago. You both agreed that the gith raised under Orpehus’s banner were only slightly more tolerant of outsiders than Vlaakith’s gith, and seemingly more ignorant.

Zii’ro’s questions had been incessant, and the others had started to join in. You enjoyed answering them and telling them stories, but after a while, it was difficult for you to handle this.

You could always hear their heartbeats, and mortals have a tendency to get rather close to you when they speak, so their scent also becomes known to you. But you swallowed your darker thoughts away, focusing on the sound of their voice and their facial animations. Astarion had taught you to do this, to help you fit in, to make you look a little less feral: he had learned it so long ago, so much earlier on in his life than you, that he had long been a natural.

Watching them was the best way to learn and (one of) the best way(s) to distract yourself. The more time you spent with your warriors, the more they accepted you, even for your strange quirks: the things you couldn’t quite imitate.

“Is it hard for you to keep up with the facade of life, Tav?” Quinel had asked you one day after a long day of training; Lae’zel and Elan had helped your warriors adapt to your fighting style, and it had greatly improved how you interacted with each other in sparring. You hoped it would translate well to the battlefield.

Quinel certainly had a way with words. Not an elegant one, that’s for sure.

”You see me struggle, do you not?” You ask, a bit annoyed at the question. It was obviously difficult for you, and you didn’t understand exactly what they were asking.

”I suppose. But I want to know more about it.” Quinel had hardly spoken, so you wanted to encourage this communication, but damn were they direct.

You didn’t think there was much to tell. “If you are more comfortable around me, then I am more comfortable around you.” The less your heart races, the less I want to eat you.

“I am relieved your blinking has improved,” Chae mused as she sharpened one of her many daggers.

”Good. That’s the point.” You had given her a curt nod, signaling that the conversation was over: but that hadn’t prevented Zii’ro and Joss from asking more questions not even ten minutes later.

To no-one’s surprise, Astarion treated his group much like he treated his spawn: detached, firm, direct. They seemed to accept him well enough, and they certainly respected him. The Kith’rak was pleased with you and Astarion’s performance, despite your little hiccup during the hunt.

The Kith’rak merely hums at Astarion’s reply before continuing with whatever he would go on about. Pressing up against Astarion’s warmth, the thump of his beating heart fills your sensitive ears. You fight the urge to tear through the fabric of his clothing and plunge your little fangs in his soft skin.

****

The night before the banquet, Astarion buries his cock in you just because he felt he needed to be there. He was moving only every once in a while, your juices accumulating from the sensation, until you were ravenous and dripping around his wide cock.

You lie on top of him, straddling him, chest flush against his. He’s holding you so desperately close, you were lucky you didn’t need to breathe.

He rubs his cheek on you, leaving kisses in their wake wherever his lips could place them, hands keeping your squirming body in place to prevent your hips from rocking into him.

You were so desperate to come, you felt the lower rumble in your belly as your orgasm grew to a precipice, only for it to retreat from lack of stimulation. You groan in frustration, causing Astarion to chuckle before he captures your lips.

His tongue is soft, hot, his touches gentle with you on this night; the two of you had been pulled away from each other more and more, assigned to various duties, seminars, and training exercises: the gith were busy people.

“It’s so good to be with you again,” Astarion expertly titillated your mind with your link, causing you to clench around him. “Spending all day with these gith is becoming increasingly insufferable. After this is all over, we’ll be spending another decade in the boudoir, I think.”

Something depraved inside of you wants this: to be kept as his little toy for a while, having no responsibilities, no pain or stress, just pure enjoyment of your choosing (reading, writing, drinking blood: all of your favorite things, of course) and the most delicious orgasms you could imagine given to you by the most beautiful man in all the realms.

To go back to the way things were, really.

But you were starting to like this taste of freedom: it made these intimate moments with your husband even sweeter, even more precious, but you weren’t sure Astarion agreed.

Astarion’s hand reaches for your ass, squeezing as his other hand finds the root of your hair, bringing you into an unbreakable kiss.

“Please,” You moan, unable to return Astarion’s casuality. “I want to come, my love, please…”

He’s been selfish with you: your time, your body.

“Focus, I’m trying to be serious, here.” He’s mocking you a bit, merely in jest, and you think it would hamper your desperation, but you only clench around his cock as you bring your hand to his jaw, your grip firm as you bear down on him. Testing your limits, you push yourself away from him, bringing yourself up right.

Hand still gripping Astarion’s chin, you give him the most salacious, most abhorrently whorish look you can muster as you move to rock into him, and to your surprise, he lets you. He’s practically drooling at the sight of you: full lips parted, his ruby eyes bright but lowered with passion, silver curls slicked back behind his pointed ears.

You don’t last long before you’re contracting and creaming around Astarion’s cock, your muscles squeezing his member with fervency. You and Astarion had had every type of sex, all sorts of ways: eternity sure gives you time to explore and expand your sexual interests.

But rarely did you take control and find your own pleasure in him, and gods did he think you looked perfect writhing atop him, cunt clenching as you whimpered his name.

“So beautiful. I adore you. I fucking adore you Tav. Forever.” There is an intensity in his eyes, and he feels the words in his chest as he communicates them to you. It makes your heart flutter and bloom within you, and your soon cunt follows suit, convulsing around his wide cock.

“I love you too,” You mewl as you’re nearing the end of your climax, his eyes softening at the words he so desperately wants to hear.

You stop fucking him after a while, exhausted from your intense orgasm. Astarion picks up where you left off, in your poor little cummed-out state, grabbing you by the hips before continuing to rut into you.

You’ve collapsed on his chest at this point, but Astarion doesn’t stop. He cradles you into him, encouraging you to bring your knees up as far as they’d go, resting at either side of his torso. The tip of his cock is pushing at your depths, making you tremble in your beloved’s arms.

“Oh—my love,” Astarion whispers into your ear: you hardly register it, your brain fuzzy from both your recovering and impending orgasm.

When Astarion finally comes inside you, the warmth of his seed filling your tight hole to the brim nearly makes you crave more, but you don’t think you could if you tried.

But your husband still seemed to have some energy left in him. He lays you on your back, his hands going underneath your knees to pull your thighs up and apart, so he could see his spend inside your fucked out hole.

Astarion’s lips parted at the sight of his thick, creamy come spilling out of you as the smell of musk, sex, and sweat lingered the room.

To you, Astarion’s natural body odor was the most exquisite perfume, other than his crimson bouquet, of course.

“You aren’t going to let me fuck it again, are you?” Astarion asked, eyebrow raised, the corner of his lips tilted in a hint of a smile.

You shake your head, still recovering from the thorough fucking he’d given you. Your eyes widened at the thought that Astarion wasn’t done with you.

“And lucky for me, my beautiful darling has two other serviceable holes for me,” Astarion says as he presses a finger to your ringed entrance, your cunt contracting at the pressure.

“Oh you are so cute,” He dotes at your reaction to his prodding, preparing you for his cock; it isn’t long before he’s filled you once more.

Astarion cleans the both of you up before turning his back to you, grabbing your arm to pull around himself. He wants you to hold him tonight. You rest your forehead on his back, placing gentle kisses on his flesh as you wrap your body around him, one leg between his as he interlocks his fingers with your own.

You breathe in his scent, that musky, earthy smell of sex and sweat filling your nose. You lick your lips, tasting his salty fluids on your tongue. The warmth of his skin was like a sanctuary to you, and you squeezed him, holding him to you preciously.

You still had an inkling of fear tucked away; you pushed it further back to the recesses of your mind as you began drifting off into a dreamless, peaceful slumber. The sound of Astarion’s beating heart thrums in your ears like the soothing sound of the ocean, or rain on pavement, and it carries you off into the twilight dark.

Astarion wakes the both of you up early to prepare for the banquet: the Ancunín’s were to always look their best, and who better than to help you look gorgeous if not for your beloved? And your lady servant, of course.

��I think the pink is too gaudy.” Astarion says with a finger and thumb rest on his chin: he was deeply focused, on what you couldn't be sure, but it certainly wasn’t the color of the dress. He remained fairly present, so you left him to his thoughts. “Washes you out too much, dear. It’s offensive that a color is able to do that to you, my beautiful darling, but alas.”

You survey yourself in the mirror once more: you think Astarion is right, and it makes you wonder why you ever bought the dress at all.

“A themed party, love. You remember Lady Danet? Fear not, her ‘pink’ parties can’t hurt you anymore,” Astarion is smirking, thinking how funny he is. He’s remembering you, dressed in all pink, a little frown on your face as you adjust to the tight corset Lady Danet required her female guests to wear. You simply didn’t think you looked good in pink, and to no surprise, you and every other woman in the world hated wearing a fucking corset. Except for Lady Danet, you think, the odd woman that she was. That had been some fifty years ago, and Lady Danet was long in the grave, now.

“Cynthia?” She was a servant, but you chose her for her gentle personality, obedience and competence, and her eye and honesty for styling you. She was almost as good as Bethild.

“I agree with our Lord. I think a red or a green would suit you better, my lady.” Cynthia says, pondering for a moment. “Pink is very in, which is why I chose it milady, but I hadn’t really thought about what would be fashionable for gith.”

It was still lost on you why the pink dress was even thrown into the fray: but no matter. After trying on several others, you realize Astarion is a million miles away, no longer focused on you at all.

The look on his face gradually became dire. Just as you felt like you had found ‘the one’ (a beautiful emerald silken gown that showed off your shoulders and cinched at the waist) Astarion looked at you, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed.

You realize he’s leaving the crèche before he says a word. His eyes suddenly become misty, glassy, but he doesn’t hide it from you. Cynthia immediately feels the shift in mood and swiftly makes her exit.

Astarion’s sending stone is pinging off in the distance. The two of you stay like this, words hanging between you, listening to the sending stone ping over and over and over…

Masterlist

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

#ascended astarion x you #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion #spawn tav #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion x tav #astarion smut #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #Killing Time

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animatorweirdo · 7 months ago

Text

Falling In Love Eonwe/You

Requested by @lamemaster

Heyyy ✋🏻 I miss your Elves/ Maiar reactions posts. So I wanted to request Elves/Maiar reaction to falling in love with their human s/o in all their different lifetimes🙏🏻. Feel free to plan it however you want, headcanon or one-shot 🥰🥰 I just love this concept so much it lives in my mind rent free :D

(Author note: Hey, I couldn't come up with a perfect scenario that could have added several characters with a human s/o, then I was reminded of Mairon Fallin in love, so I made another analysis like headcanon with Eonwe that goes his lifetimes of falling in love with his s/o. I hope you are okay with this one. )

Warnings: some angst, fluff, relationship stuff, mentions of the kin slaying, wars, death, Eonwe being a confused birdbrain, and hope you have the patience to read it all.

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- Eonwe gives me the impression that he would be a very devoted type, taking his role as Manwe’s herald. He would be loyal and treat you well if you somehow ended up in a relationship with him. However, he also gives me the impression that he would have no idea how relationships work, especially if you aren’t from the same race as him.

- If you were a maiar, you two would have probably been good friends from the beginning and close in general and the thought of being in a romantic relationship had not crossed your minds. You two would give the vibe of being obliviously in love.

- Eonwe would have been more young-minded and would probably not realize how much he likes being in your presence.

- If you serve under the same valar, you would spend a lot of time together doing your duties. You would be each other’s loyal companions and it would be uncommon for you two to be on your own. If you serve under a different valar, Eonwe would then visit you often in the domain of your valar.

- If you are a loyal type yourself, then you two would most likely survive through the thick and thick of the first years of Arda, and perhaps when Eonwe realizes his deep feelings for you and becomes more mature in the matter of courting, he would ask you to be his spouse, especially if you two have a strong foundation of loyalty and companionship.

- Manwe and Varda would have most likely pushed him to confess and eventually ask you to marry him.

- However, if you were tempted by Melkor and joined him, Eonwe would have been confused and heartbroken. He would have realized his feelings too late and be left hoping you would eventually return to the light. If you did, then he would be there to welcome you with open arms, if not, then he would only feel sadness in losing you.

- If you were an elf, Eonwe would have some idea of how to interact with you but be very confused about his sudden rise of feelings toward you. He would worry it is appropriate for him to seek a relationship with you, and try not to step over your boundaries.

- Eonwe would likely need a lot of reassurance, and perhaps a push from Manwe, to finally have the courage to ask to court you.

- You will most likely have to teach him the basics and the norms in courting an elf. He would be familiar with the Vanyar, but not on deeper levels. He had likely interacted with them on official business.

- Physical touch would most likely feel strange for him at first, but if you are patient and gentle, he would grow to like it.

- It wouldn’t matter much to Eonwe from which elven clan you come from. He would focus more on your personality and what kind of person you are.

- Eonwe values loyalty and a good heart in a person. He would not mind if you were slightly mischievous and caused harmless pranks, even finding some amusement in them. However, if you were a teaser type, he would be pretty shy and wouldn’t know how to interact if you kept teasing his poor heart.

- He does not appreciate evil and harm caused to others. If you were part of the Noldor and joined the kin slaying, then he would be upset and heartbroken. If not but decided to leave Aman with your people, he would understand your loyalty to your family, and patiently wait for the day when the valars would grant you mercy and allow you to return.

- If you were a Telerin and survived the kin slaying, he would have a close experience of what losing you felt like. He would be there for you as you tried to recover from the whole ordeal. However, if you didn’t survive the kin slaying and ended up in Mandos, he would feel awful sadness and try to plead with Eru himself that you would be able to recover in the soul.

- If you were a Vanyar. Eonwe would likely be familiar with most of your kin’s customs, having interacted with them way more than the other two clans. There is a high chance you two met at a party or by chance when he had some errands.

- If you were a Sindar, you two would have met during the war of wrath. He would not be most familiar with Sindarin customs, but if you manage to catch feelings for each other, he would ask you to join him in Valinor at the end of the war. If you accepted, he would be ecstatic, but if you still had business in Middle Earth, he would respect your decision and wait for the day when you would finally sail to the blessed realm.

- If you were a human, things would be slightly complicated. There could be two ways how you two could have met.

- One, you two met during the war of wrath. Eonwe would have heard his fair share of things about humans, so he would be intrigued about you once you met.

- If you didn’t have the most positive view of him and the valars due to their absence in the whole war, he would have difficulties befriending you. However, he would slowly understand you when he learned about all the losses and tragedies you endured. He would feel empathic and become protective of you in a way.

- He would respect you if you were trying to contribute to the war in your own way.

- He would feel conflicted when he realized his growing feelings toward you since you were not immortal like him or the elves, and neither you nor your kind were permitted to enter the blessed realm.

- Your time would be limited. He would do his best to ensure your safety during the war, hoping you will live through it and allow for a peaceful life. You two would probably not share anything about your feelings until the last minute when it was time to say goodbye. However, if you did not survive the war, he would silently mourn for you and perhaps feel regret for not telling you of his feelings.

- If Eonwe decided to stay in Middle Earth for some mission Manwe bestowed upon him, and incidentally met you. You most likely end up as his guide in Middle Earth.

- He would be wearing a disguise or a form that would help him blend in with the people, so you would have no idea he was a Maiar.

- Eonwe would learn more things about humans from you. He would still share the same conflicted feelings about his growing feelings toward you, but after some counseling and advice from old acquaintances, he may be more open-minded about it.

- He would eventually reveal the truth about himself to you, and you will either be accepting or there was a chance you already knew about it. It would be impossible not to notice things when you’ve traveled together for some time.

- If you two got together, you would be a happy pair, and spend as much time together as possible.

- Eonwe would think you were adorable if you got a big fascination toward his wings and allowed you to play with them even if they were slightly sensitive.

- Eonwe would most likely stay in Middle Earth to be with you at the end of your days. Or if you contributed to fighting evil and protecting Middle Earth, then maybe the Valars would allow you to stay in Valinor, or perhaps grant you an immortal life so you could stay with Eonwe.

- There could be a chance becoming immortal would mean that you would be bound to the world and have the same fate as elves, but if you willingly chose that, then Eonwe would be forever devoted to you.

#silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #tolkien #middle earth x reader #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #middle earth imagines #eonwe #eonwe x reader #x elf reader #x human reader #silmarillion headcanon #middle earth headcanon #x maiar reader

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