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celestemona · 2 months ago

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⋆˙⟡ — TANGLED FATES

pairing: kinich, kaedehara kazuha, wanderer x reader

cw: soulmates! au. characters may look ooc. approximately 3k words. no pronouns mentioned though "my lady" is said in kazuha's part. fluffy, angsty, lovely. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Kinich

Kinich had always felt a subtle pull toward something—or someone—just beyond his reach.

From the moment he was born, the thread that connected him to his soulmate had been a delicate shade of translucent red, often fading to the point of nearly vanishing. It was a constant reminder of the distance between them, a tangible sign that his soulmate was far away, perhaps even in another nation.

The people of Natlan revered the concept of soulmates, believing that every thread was woven by the hands of fate itself. Kinich, however, was not the type to wander beyond his homeland in search of this elusive connection. The rugged beauty of his tribe, the thrill of hunting, and the camaraderie of his people grounded him. He found comfort in the familiar rhythms of his life, though sometimes, during quiet moments beneath the canopy of the trees or while gazing at the stars, the thought of his soulmate would flutter in his mind like a restless bird.

Yet today was different.

As Kinich navigated the vibrant festival of the Scions of the Canopy, filled with laughter and the smell of roasted meats mingling with the sweetness of ripe fruit, he couldn’t shake a strange sensation. He glanced down at the red string on his finger, and to his surprise, it was brighter than he had ever seen—deep crimson, like the fiery sunsets that painted the sky at twilight. The sudden vibrancy sent a jolt of energy through him, and his heart raced with possibilities. For the very first time, it felt that his soulmate was closer than he had ever imagined.

The thought barely settled in his mind when a commotion broke out nearby. Kinich turned to see a crowd gathered around the bungee jumping platform, a popular attraction that had people leaping into the air with exhilarating abandon. The sight of the participants soaring through the sky brought a fainted smile to his face—until he noticed one figure preparing for a jump.

His heart seemed to stop as he caught sight of you, your hair whipping in the wind, laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd. You appeared fearless, but as the countdown began, Kinich noticed something off: the rope seemed frayed, a dangerous instability in an otherwise thrilling endeavor. Panic surged through him as the countdown reached zero.

Before his mind could catch up to his body, he reacted. The faintest snapping sound echoed in his ears as the bungee cord gave way—a horrified gasp echoed from the crowd, but Kinich was already in motion. With a practiced flick of his grappling hook, he shot toward you, the hook catching a solid anchor just as you fell.

In the heartbeat between falling and impact, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, jerking you from the void. Time seemed to slow as the world spun and your eyes locked onto his—the man who had saved your life.

Kinich landed gracefully with you in his arms, his grip steady and reassuring as if it were second nature. As the adrenaline pulsed through you, your heart raced not just from the near-death experience, but from the realization that your strings—both of yours—were now glowing vividly, a striking red.

The connection between you was undeniable, even if the situation was surreal.

“That was... close,” you murmured, still catching your breath, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Kinich’s usual nonchalance wavered momentarily as his eyes lingered on yours. He gently set you down, his hand brushing against yours as the string on his pinky tightened, pulling you two together subtly but magnificently. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he said, his voice low but calm, the faintest trace of amusement playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering adrenaline. “Maybe a little of both.”

He let out a quiet hum, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. “Seems I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then.”

Before you could respond, a pitched voice cut through the air. “No! I though you’d finally gonna get yourself killed, Kinich. Shit! It seems I was wrong again.”

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “You wish.”

You blinked, wondering where the voice came from and noticing the sudden change in his demeanor, but before you could ask, Kinich’s focus returned to you. His intense gaze softened as he extended a hand, offering it to you with an unexpected formality. “It seems fate has brought us together in the most dramatic of ways.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “Seems that way. And here I thought I’d get a thrill from jumping, not falling.”

“There are safer thrills,” he answered, his hand still holding yours dearly. “One that doesn’t involve falling from cliffs.”

You bit your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hide a smirk, the soft flirtation in his voice making your heartbeats go faster. “Oh? Like what?”

He let his gaze linger on yours, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. “Perhaps we’ll find out together.”

The red string between you entwined, as if urging the two of you closer. For the first time in a long while, Kinich felt more than just duty or the thrill of a adventuring—he felt the warmth of something that had been distant for too long.

And for you, the world around you seemed to quiet as the only thing that mattered now was the connection between you and the man fate had quite literally sent to catch you.

Kaedehara Kazuha

From the moment of birth, the faintest whispers of your soulmate begin to form in your mind, weaving through your thoughts, and growing clearer with time. The voices aren’t constant, but they drift in and out, as if carried on a breeze, reminding you of the presence of someone far away yet intimately close. Sometimes, it's a word spoken aloud, a laugh shared with a friend. Other times, it’s a fleeting thought, as private as a breath. And from childhood, this voice becomes an indelible part of your life, a companion whose face you have never seen but whose soul you know deeply.

Kazuha was still a boy when he first heard the voice. He was playing alone in the gardens of his family’s estate, surrounded by the quiet rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the wind. And then, as soft as a whisper, he heard it—a voice that wasn’t his own.

It was delicate, like the sound of water trickling over smooth stones. A voice so pure it carried the sweetness of a lullaby. At first, he thought it was part of the wind, some trick of the breeze, but as the days went on, the voice returned. Sometimes it sang, sometimes it hummed a tune that was unfamiliar yet soothing. And when it spoke, Kazuha listened, enchanted by the rhythm of the words, even if they weren’t meant for him.

Years passed, and the voice became a familiar presence in his life. He learned to recognize its tones—the way it brightened when it was happy, or softened when the person behind it was lost in thought. Even when he left the security of his childhood home, embarking on his wandering journey, the voice followed him. It was a constant companion, a tether that connected him to something beyond the world he knew.

The voice belonged to an opera singer from Fontaine, though Kazuha would only come to know this much later. As children, you’d hear each other speak, often unaware of the impact your words were having on the other side of the world. You’ve been singing since you were small, your voice a bright light in the waterside streets of Fontaine, and Kazuha had come to love the sound of it—first as a soothing melody in the background of his thoughts, and later as a force that brought him comfort during his travels. He could sense your emotions through your voice—the joy you found in your craft, the occasional frustration in your rehearsals, and the quiet moments when you’d murmur your thoughts to yourself.

You, too, had been listening to him. From the first haikus he had whispered into the wind as a child, to the quiet contemplations of a young man growing into his own. Though Kazuha was never one to speak much, the moments when he’d recite poetry or talk to the wind were enough to fill your heart with a sense of companionship. His voice, calm and steady, was a comfort to you as you navigated your own world of art and performance.

Neither of you knew exactly who the other was, but your voices had become a part of each other. Even without a meeting, you had grown up together—two souls connected by the invisible threads of fate.

As Kazuha grew older, his understanding of the voice deepened. He’d often find himself drifting off to sleep, only to wake with the faint echoes of your songs still lingering in his ears. He marveled at how perfectly your voice blended with the world around him—the wind, the sea, and the rustling of leaves in the forests he wandered. Your voice had become a song in the symphony of his life, and he cherished it.

For you, his words were like the poetry he often whispered to himself—a gentle, constant reminder that somewhere out there was someone who understood the world the way you did. You often wondered what he looked like, what kind of person could speak so softly yet carry so much meaning in his words.

Years passed, and though your connection remained strong, you never rushed to meet. There was no urgency, no desperation. Just the quiet understanding that one day, you’d find each other.

It wasn’t until Kazuha’s travels led him to Fontaine that your worlds finally began to merge. The hydro nation was a place where the beauty of the arts and the depths of the sea intertwined. Kazuha had no intention of seeking you out immediately. He had learned patience long ago and trusted that the wind would guide him when the time was right.

But as he wandered the streets of Fontaine, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city, he heard your voice again—clearer than it had ever been. This time, it was no distant whisper but a melody that floated on the air, rich and vibrant. You were rehearsing for an upcoming performance, your voice filling the opera house with the same beauty that had once echoed in his dreams.

He stood at a distance, watching you from the shadows. You were every bit as graceful as your voice, your movements fluid and elegant. Your presence commanded the space around you, yet there was a softness to you that drew him in. You were speaking with one of the directors with enthusiasm as you discussed the details of the upcoming opera. And though you didn’t know it, the man you had shared your thoughts with for so many years was standing just a few feet away, watching with quiet reverence.

Kazuha’s heart swelled as he took a deep breath, allowing the wind to guide him forward. It was time.

With the same grace that had carried him through countless battles and journeys, he approached you, his steps light and unhurried. When you turned, eyes meeting, the recognition was instant. The voice that had been a constant presence in your lives was now matched with a face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped, leaving only the two of you standing in the fading light of the afternoon. And then, with a soft smile, Kazuha spoke.

“My lady,” he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that stirred the air around both of you. He took your hand in his own, bowing slightly as he lifted it to his lips. The soft kiss he placed on the back of your hand was filled with all the quiet emotion he had carried with him for so many years. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

Your smile widened, warmth rosing on your cheeks. “The honor is mine. I’ve heard your voice for so long… I almost thought I was dreaming when I heard you recite your poems for the first time.”

“As did I,” Kazuha replied, his crimson eyes soft as he gazed at you. “Your voice has been with me for as long as I can remember. Hearing you sing now… it feels as though I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

You laughed softly, the sound as musical as the voice he had come to love. “And I’ve been waiting for you. I always wondered when our paths would cross.”

“They were bound to,” Kazuha said, his tone warm. “The wind always carries us to where we are meant to be.”

With his and your hands still gently intertwined, you stood in the heart of Fontaine, the city alive with the murmur of art and life around them. But for the two of you, the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the echo of the voices that had connected you for so long.

In that moment, you knew that your journey—though long and winding—had led you both exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

Wanderer

In Teyvat, the concept of soulmates wasn’t something everyone discussed openly, but it was an unspoken truth understood by all. It was a tragic but beautiful reality for those people: no one ever dreamed—at least, not until they met their soulmate. The first and only dream a person would ever experience was a shared one, an intimate meeting with their destined one. This dream wasn’t bound by time or place, often filled with subtle moments, quiet connections, and profound understanding. But the dream itself didn’t mean immediate union. Many spent years after their dream searching, wondering when—or if—they’d ever cross paths with their other half in the waking world.

And not all believed they deserved a soulmate.

Wanderer had learned of the legend when he was still known as Kunikuzushi, back in the early days when he was newly formed and still discovering what it meant to exist. He hadn’t thought it applied to him, a puppet—a hollow being without a true heart, someone who was neither human nor divine. But one night, long ago, when he was still innocent and full of hope, he had a dream.

In that dream, he met you.

It wasn’t a vivid or wild vision. It was quiet, serene. You walked in a vast wheat field, your steps so rhythmic as if you were dancing between invisible trails that only you knew where it’d take you. Your back was turned to him but the sound of your laughter was a song that played like a lullaby in his head. When you looked up, your eyes meeting, something inside him stirred—a sense of calm, of being understood without words.

There were no grand gestures, no spoken promises. Just a glance, a soft smile, and a feeling that warmed him from the inside out. You were real, and for the first time in his short existence, he felt connected to something outside of himself.

When he woke, the memory of that dream stayed with him, lodged deep in his mind like a forgotten melody. He tried to dismiss it, thinking it was some strange byproduct of his flawed creation. How could he have a soulmate when he wasn’t truly human?

Years, centuries passed, and Kunikuzushi became Scaramouche, and Scaramouche became Wanderer. He fell deeper into darkness, fueled by bitterness and anger. Yet, despite the walls he built around himself, the memory of the dream never fully faded. It lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes emerging in his quietest moments, like a long-lost hope he didn’t want to admit to. He believed that dream was lost to time, and that he had been undeserving of it. He had resigned himself to solitude, pushing away any notion that he might still have a connection to someone out there.

But everything changed the night he wandered the streets of Sumeru.

The night was calm, and the air was thick with the fragrant scent of flowers. It was one of those evenings where the city was still alive, bustling with life even under the veil of darkness. The marketplace glowed softly in the distance, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Wanderer had no purpose being there, only walking aimlessly, his mind drifting between thoughts.

Yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the memory of that dream began to surface. The image of you, twirling in a field, returned with startling clarity. He could almost see the light in your eyes, feel the quiet comfort of that moment. His steps slowed as a strange, almost magnetic pull tugged at his chest, drawing his attention toward the marketplace.

And then he saw you.

You stood at a vendor’s stall, your profile illuminated by the soft lantern light. His breath hitched. It was as if time stopped. You looked exactly as you had in the dream—your presence both familiar and startling. He blinked, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. After all this time, how could you be here?

You turned slightly, inspecting some trinket on display, completely unaware of him. The world around him blurred, all the noise fading into a distant hum as his focus remained solely on you. He felt his heart—did he even have one?—thunder in his chest.

A storm of emotions raged inside him. He hadn’t prepared for this. Could this truly be real? After all he had done—his mistakes, his hatred, his isolation—was it possible that fate hadn’t given up on him? Was he still deserving of a soulmate?

He found himself rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. He couldn’t approach you, not yet. How could he, knowing what he had become? A part of him was relieved, though—relieved that you existed, that the dream hadn’t been a cruel joke. But the hesitation that lingered was undeniable. What if you saw him for who he truly was and walked away? What if, after all these years, he was no longer the person you had dreamed of?

You moved away from the stall, and at that moment, your eyes swept over the crowd, casually scanning the area—until they locked onto his.

The recognition was instant, like a spark between two halves of a long-separated whole. You blinked, clearly processing what you were feeling as if the dream had come flooding back to you all at once. The same quiet understanding he had felt in the dream now passed between you in reality. Your expression softened, and though you seemed uncertain, you didn’t look away.

You took a tentative step toward him, your curiosity was evident. His heart raced again, the walls he had built around himself suddenly feeling fragile as if a single word from you could shatter them entirely.

And then you spoke.

“I saw you once upon a dream,” you said, your voice gentle, filled with the same warmth and wonder from the dream. There was no accusation in your tone, no judgment—just simple truth.

He swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, yet none of them made sense. All he could manage was, “Did you?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “I thought it was just a trick of my mind, but… seeing you now, I know it was real.”

He stood frozen, a mix of doubts, disbelief, and relief swirling inside him. The person he had dreamed of, who he thought was forever out of reach, was standing in front of him. And you remembered him.

His voice was quieter than he intended when he finally spoke again. “I never thought I’d find you.”

You stepped closer, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Neither did I. But… here we are.”

The warmth in your eyes was something he hadn’t felt in so long. It made the walls around his heart tremble, threatening to crumble. He wanted to say so much, to explain the years that had passed, to tell you how unworthy he felt—but none of it mattered in that moment. You were here, and you had dreamed of him, too.

Perhaps, despite everything, he still had a chance at something real. Something good. And for the first time in his long, fragmented existence, Kunikuzushi felt a flicker of hope.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #kinich #kinich x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader

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rafey-baby · 4 months ago

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sweet treat 2

in which sexy construction worker!rafe who spends his days 'lifting heavy stuff and building shit' (his words) and driving shy!reader home, shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

18+ mdni!

c/w: construction worker!rafe being a tease, slight somnophilia, smut (dry humping, p-in-v, unprotected sex)

wc: 2.7k

hi! this is a part two to this (also this whole story was originally supposed to be just a small blurb consisting of a few silly sentences but then i got a bit carried away :D) anyways hope you enjoy xx

part 3 part 4 part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her.

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) when she gingerly opens the door, mentally preparing to face a serial killer.

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her.

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” A surprised look paints over her visage.

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might need it back,” he’s grinning, holding out a phone to her, pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call you,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke.

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance.

A worn-out t shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it. She’s not wearing anything else. He’s trying not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair, swallowing nervously under his attention.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never actually ended up fucking her when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for a week after the particularly long shift she’d just had.

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder, thumb smoothing over the material of her shirt, letting her rest in tranquility. Telling himself he could be patient with her, not wanting to rush anything.

However, she’s not making it very easy for him right now when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her. She looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms and slump down on her bed, crawling under crisp sheets and feel how her lungs expand against his chest.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He carefully asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer, not wanting him to go yet; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” She clumsily offers.

His brows raise, surprised at her proposition. She’s being uncharacteristically bold; his mouth twists into an amused simper.

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and just wanna go home, sorry, I don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown familiar with.

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold, taking a look around her cozy home. Leafy plants adding greenery to the small space and picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls. It’s cute, he thinks.

She sets a steaming mug in front of him on her kitchen table and sits down next to him on a wooden chair. He’s definitely not staring at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up the tops of her thighs, allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out. He clears his throat.

“You often have trouble sleeping?” He tries to focus on something else, anything else, taking a slow sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. I try to fall asleep but the loud noises of the customers talking and the clinking of plates and spoons keep replaying in my head and suddenly I’m wide awake, you know?” She explains.

“I’m sorry, is there anything that helps?” He prods.

“I don’t know, I guess just trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out.

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re just using me in order to fall asleep?” He teases, grinning when he manages to drag out yet another giggle from her mouth.

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she looks at him.

“Should I feel offended right now?” He jokingly scoffs.

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.”

And he thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy, she’s a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self would be, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape the gaps of his teeth.

“You into cuddling?” He asks, profound aquamarine locking with her rounded eyes.

“Uh— I mean, I probably would be if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond.

“Wanna cuddle with me?” He says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent to this whole situation while she feels dizzy, dazed mind reeling and vivid heart tingling in her ribcage.

“Really? You want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?” She seems taken aback by his proposal.

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” His brows crease.

“Yes, of course we are, I just—”

“Look, all I’m saying, is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having something else to focus on and shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this; he’s simply trying to help.

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees and swiftly gets up on wobbly feet, almost falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, grounding her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at his sudden proximity.

“Easy there, Sweetheart,” he chuckles against her hair, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him amusing.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle, caging her in with gentle fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter closed.

He’s so warm and big making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.

“You good?” He murmurs next to her ear.

“Mhm,” she blissfully croons, letting out a content exhale.

Her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy and the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.

“Sweet dreams,” is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a crepuscular dormancy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She’s lethargic in her movements when she rouses from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in. Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his and it’s murky in her unlit bedroom; the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots in her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what has woken her up.

Then she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass. There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization.

He’s hard. Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more.

She swallows.

What is she supposed to do?

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low groan, rumbling deep from his firm chest; grip tightening around her smaller form.

“Rafe?” She calls out.

No response.

“Rafe? Wake up.”

Still nothing.

She can feel him breathing heavily against her hair; pawing at her hips every now and then, trying to pull her even closer, even if they’re already effectively glued together and there’s absolutely no means for her to move.

She’s starting to become sticky between her thighs as he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in a stupor.

She mewls when her clit throbs, pestering for some sort of friction. And that’s when he finally stirs, the weight of his arms loosening like a tight knot unfurling and her lungs are finally able to greedily suck in brisk air.

“Shit, sorry, my bad” his tone is gravelly and at that, some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides.

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects; her face heats up.

“It’s uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries,” she rambles because what the fuck is she supposed to say?

“No, it’s fully my fault, just had quite a nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse.

“Oh. What was it about?” She inquires, yawning, perhaps too curious for her own good.

“You wanna know?” His brows raise, surprised.

She hums.

“Well, there was this really pretty girl, and she had me in her mouth and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her,” he murmurs with a heady tone overlaying his response.

“Oh,” she tries to appear indifferent, although there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom from the damp soil in the pit of her stomach at his words.

He chuckles at how oblivious she is. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?” He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here with him?

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling to himself.

“So, what else happened?”

“What else? Okay, then she let me do this,” he says at the same time as he grabs her hips again, pushing against her, earning a faint whimper from her when she can feel how big he is through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Rafe…what are you doing?” She manages to ask through a whine; his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” He mutters, shallow.

“I— what are you— what are you talking about?” Her brain is foggy and she’s not able to think straight when he’s so close.

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing the retelling of his dream. “Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper. Her inhale gets stuck somewhere along the way when he paws at her hips, shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock and he lets out a heartfelt grunt when she moves her achy cunt over him.

“You like this? Such a needy little thing, yeah?” He helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips; dragging her against his cock, filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.

“Rafe, can you…”

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” He says as he slips a hand in her panties, fingers petting at her puffy clit and a loud moan leaves her when she lifts the fabric of her shirt up in order to have a better view.

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Getting real fucking wet from me just being close to you, yeah?” His thumb rubs lazy circles on her sensitive button, making her cry out his name as she presses down harder against his cock.

“Shit, gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that. You wanna know what else was in my dream?”

She nods, frantic.

“I pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, I did this,” he mutters as he takes himself out from the confines and her eyes round out as she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head of his cock on her clit, one, two, three times, and then smears it on her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean, pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out, turning her into a whimpering mess. The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked down to where they connect, fascinated.

“Fuck, Sweetheart, does that feel nice?” He asks, swiping a thumb over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper, forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.

“Feels so good, Rafe, I think I’m gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.

“You’re gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his face, nudging his dick about halfway in and out, never fully plunging it inside of her though.

“You feel so good, I can’t— can’t hold it,” water droplets are gathering in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as teary eyes look into larimar and she rolls her hips against him, chasing after some sort of release.

“Shit, go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” He encourages her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him.

“There you go, just fucking give it to me,” he grunts and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching; rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he stuffs his cock profoundly into her, to the hilt.

He stills inside her and then he’s groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim; making her feel so full. She thinks she could die happy right now.

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him, burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.

“Did so good for me, shit, we should do this more often, yeah?” He says with a sleepy tinge.

And she’s completely out of it, head as empty as ever, merely managing an amorphous hum in agreement; tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber.

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skyrigel · 5 months ago

Text

“Pretty when you smile”

Pairing: Benjicot blackwood x Bracken!reader

Benji masterlist

“A settlement was made but they never said anything about the pretty bride and a smitten groom.”

Drinking, arranged marriage, fluffy fluff and smitten!Benjicot, slurred humour.

“ They never said about the pretty part.” you looked up, as lord of Riverdale stumbled, his face splitting around his huge grin, almost devilishly.

“ Look at you.” Ben slurred, despite knocking a goblet along with it's contents down, he managed to slump next to you on the bed, with a low thud and sheepish laugh.

“ You're drunk.” you almost snarled before you bit back, “my lord.” you added with a smile, he wasn't actually offended, he smiled just the same, like a fool that nicked a coin.

“ I almost refused—” he hiccuped, “ but then I saw you darling.” he propped on his elbow, reeking of whatever he was drunk on, perhaps a wine that was made on the northern aisles. His eyes widened more, like he was looking at you for the first time and it made you smile, it did back then too when he married you by the gods, taking your hand forever, smiling and it was inevitable not to, but you smiled anyway.

Brides never smiled, especially those who were traded for peace, it was duty. Never love.

But then again, who wouldn't ? Ben had that glint in his eyes that was funny but also, relaxing, like the sun rising and whispering, it's going to be alright or the moon basking and singing, you're safe child.

“ saw you...” he murmured against your jaw, tracing a fine line, his fingers sweaty and syrupy, until he stopped at the corner of your mouth, watching you intently.

“ M-my lord..” you weren't sure what to say and you never did, the words strangled on their way, wrecking before they ever made it out. Benjicot amused himself, his cheeks flushed but this rosey glow that devoured his way was new, perked only when you smiled, like you had done at the wedding few hours ago.

“ You are so beautiful.” he cried, like a chanting, a prayer. You could taste his skin on your tongue, as his thumb slowly dipped inside, swiping across your velvety mouth.

“ Thankyou my lord.” you wouldn't blink, his sweetness was too much, almost getting you intoxicated.

“ shhh.” his mouth curved in 'o', face reaching up close to you, eyes dazed but you could see your reflection back. “ call me Ben, or benny.” He giggled, it wasn't very odd to hear that rich melodious sound tingle your skin, so close to you, like waves crashing.

“ or benji.” he added after a chortling, you couldn't help the snort that escaped you, surprising you while Ben only grinned.

“ You are so pretty, especially when you smile. ” he said, joining his lips on yours in a constellation of stars, every thought bursting into sweet nothings, his mouth was sweet, fruity and toxicating, the glee you felt inside you was very similar to nicking a extra goblet of wine that wasn't appropriate for a lady, like floating and feeling nothing could touch you, like almost a dream where everything could be true, like music and poetry, like everything beautiful, kissing him felt like kissing the sky, no, it felt bigger than the whole sky.

And they never said about the love part, but perhaps...

Navigation

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draczrys · 4 months ago

Note

Would you write something about Cregan Stark getting married to a reader of a house of your choice and thus sealing alliances and being fluffy?

WINTER ROSE. ❨ cregan stark x tyrell!reader ❩

since your birth, the third child and only daughter of highgarden’s lord, your fate had always been a marriage for political means. your elder brother would inherit the title, the other set for life as a knight of the seven kingdoms. you were a girl and your purpose was to marry well and secure a strong alliance for your family.

it didn’t take long to come to terms with what your life would look like. you would come of age and be sent away to the lord that would benefit you most. for your family, you would do it. but, every night, you would kneel by your pillow and pray that your husband would at least be kind —- it needn’t be true love, like the stories you often read. as long as he wasn’t cruel.

“cregan stark has been named the new lord of winterfell and is in need of a wife,” your father announced one morning, amidst the feasting hall. “i have sent a raven to offer your hand and he has accepted.”

your mother beamed, grasping your shoulders proudly. “my daughter, lady of winterfell.”

“we are in need of his banners and he needs our grain and cloths for the winter,” lord tyrell explains, shrugging as though it were simply a swap of goods and not the life of his daughter. “it is a fair exchange.”

by the next moon, you were departing the green and gold covered fields of highgarden and journeying north on the roseroad. the colder it became, the more you missed the sweet sun and elegant surroundings of your home. northerners were rough and unforgiving to outsiders, each one you met along the way adding to the dreaded image of your husband.

the first time you laid eyes on cregan stark was when you were taken along the path to the godswood. he was handsome, you couldn’t deny that. but his tall build, stoic features and steady gaze made you shiver —- even under the furs you’d been given. he had the look of a northerner, but did he have the heart of one too?

“by the old gods and the new, i name you man and wife,” the septon concluded the ceremony, unbinding the cloth wrapped around your hands. expectant eyes looked on, forcing a blush upon your face as you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to cregan’s cheek.

if you were to confess under the eyes of the godswood, you were afraid of cregan stark. his eyes were unwavering, lips fixed in a permanent frown. other than his vows of marriage, he hadn't said a word. neither of you were elated to be trapped into a marriage of convenience, but you knew you hadn't any choice in the matter. at the least, he could look like he was enduring it.

sat now at the top table in winterfell's great feast hall, your new husband at your side, the celebrations were growing louder the longer the wine was being poured. you sat quietly, barely sipping at your cup. only when the loud, booming voice of cregan's men rang out did you come back to the present.

"a toast, to the new lady of winterfell! may she be as beautiful under our lord as she is beside him."

the laughs that emulated from it made you grimace, so used to being treated as the perfect lady, protected from all things becoming to a man. you knew of sex, the people of the reach having always been open about their bodies and pleasures, but the northern aggression that came with it was foreign to you.

"to the bedding ceremony!"

the ladies at highgarden had warned you of the tradition that came at weddings, the entire party parading around the newlyweds as they stripped and consummated the bond. it was daunting enough to take your new husband to bed, but to be watched by tens of strangers? it had your heart suddenly hammering out of your chest, every muscle tensing in a cold shock.

"enough!" the commanding voice of the man by your side cut through the cheers, silencing the hall in an instant. it was the first time he had spoken since the ceremony, current volume making up for the silence. "there will be no bedding ceremony. anyone who protests will meet the sword at once."

whilst everyone else cowered under the threat, you felt yourself relax with a warm relief. cregan turns to meet your surprise, both his eyes and tongue turning soft as he speaks just to you now.

"you may retire, if you wish."

nodding gratefully, you follow the gentle hand of your lady-in-waiting out of the busy feast and along the strange halls of the cold castle. even your chambers are cold, the climate seeming to cling to the stone around the bed. the silk nightdresses you had brought with you do nothing to shield you from it, so once your lady departs you begin to forage through the chests for something to keep you warm. eventually finding a smaller set of furs amongst the others, you drape it around your shoulders and relish in the heat that comes with it.

"is everything to your liking?"

jumping in shock, you turn on your heels to find cregan stood at the doorway, just about filling the whole space. his eyes flicker down to the furs -- his furs, covering you and a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips.

"i'm sorry," you stumble quickly. "it was cold and it was all i could find."

cregan's head shakes, dismissing your apologies. "it's alright. everything here is as much yours as it is mine, now."

you smile, head falling bashfully to glance at the floor. "i hadn't expected everything to be so... different here. it will take some time to adjust, i think."

nodding in understanding, cregan crosses the room to stand in front of you. you feel yourself shiver under his gaze, watching him study you amongst his territory. hesitantly, his hand slips from under his own furs to reach for your own. you let him, both of you treading new water as your learn each other's touch; the smoothness of your palms, the rough pads of his thumbs, the heat that encompassed your chilled knuckles. the sensation is wonderful, like two puzzle pieces slotting together.

"whatever you need to help you enjoy your new life here, no matter the extent, it will be my honour to find it for you," cregan tells you, the kindness in his voice a pleasant welcome. "you are my wife now, it is my duty to make you comfortable."

feeling your cheeks warm, rounding with the first genuine smile in days. your heart swells and the feeling that this marriage might just be okay fills you, so much so that you find yourself reaching up to kiss cregan's cheek once more. unlike the bonding of the vows, this one is genuine and of your own volition, expressing the gratitude you could not find words for.

"i can sleep elsewhere for the night, if you would wish..." cregan continues, clearing his throat to distract from the small blush that creeps past his skin.

"no, stay," you tell him, squeezing his hand. "perhaps we could talk, learn more about each other."

the suggestion eases you both. cregan agrees, using your hand to guide you towards the bed, only leaving for a moment to fetch you more furs for the night. he potters around, changing for sleep, and the domestic scene lets you relax into the pillows.

it wasn't a marriage for love - yet. but perhaps it could be, with time.

#⚔️ ﹐ writings.#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd drabbles #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark fanfic #tom taylor #hotd x reader

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outoftheseine · 6 months ago

Text

-AZRIEL “THE SHADOWSINGER” FIC RECS-

i am so obsessed with him it is not even funny | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

the trials of aphrodite • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (unrequited love, so much pining)

unrequited love | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @lyssasdrafts (angst)

a field of dandelions • azriel x witch!reader

↳ by @prythianpages (made my heart warm, some angst, smut)

bloodied bonds | sinner’s sacrifice • azriel x rhysand’s sister!reader

↳ by @ellievickstar (hanahaki au, angst)

if it all fell • azriel x reader

↳ by @pellucid-constellations (angst, comfort, i feel for azriel :()

the silent one | 2 | 3 | 4 | azriel x fem!oc

↳ by @feyreswaterybowels (found family, slowburn, angst, fluff, comfort, mute!oc, tw: past sa)

lonesome | part 2 • azriel x reader

↳ by @assassinsblade (angst)

ocean eyes • azriel x reader

↳ by @redheadspark (very fluffy, angsty at times, smut, dad!azriel)

crush • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (so so fluffy, smut)

i laugh like me again… she laughs like you | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 • azriel x reader

↳ by @azrielbrainrot (very angsty, grief, violence, torture)

was any of it true? | full throttle | alt. ending • badboy!azriel x goodgirl!reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (modern au, angst, happy ending, smut)

pushed to the edge • azriel x seer!reader

↳ by @stormhearty (oh boy hurt me so good)

baker!reader x azriel

↳ by @imaginesmai (so fluffyyy)

and so, the stars aligned | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @offthepages

finding home • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @parkerslatte

sweet like sugar • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingsbychlo (fluff, angst, smut)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

tiny shadows • azriel x reader

↳ by @xmalfoyweasleyx (fluff)

his shadows know • azriel x reader

↳ by @daycourtofficial (fluff)

he feels safe with you • azriel x reader

↳ by @florencemtrash (warm, fuzzy fluff)

the quiet between • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thewulf (mean!az, angst, fluff)

you drew stars around my scars • azriel x reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (fluff, slight angst)

arcane • azriel x death god!reader

↳ by @serpentandlily (fluff, tw: alludes to sa)

butterfly kisses • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (fluff, suggestive)

threads of hazel • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (oh beautiful angst)

laborious activities • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (fluff and labour things)

marriage-life • azriel x reader

↳ by @delulustateofmind (sooo fluffy)

baby blanket • azriel x reader

↳ by @sapphicmsmarvel (fluff)

implode • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @daydreaming-nerd (really angsty)

blinded • azriel x reader

↳ by @lady-of-tearshed (oh so angsty, unrequited love)

scartlet-tipped secrets; peonies, for you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @angelshadowsinger (hanahaki au, unrequited love, angst)

totally annoying and not funny at all • azriel x reader

↳ by @sillymercury (fluff, little angst, literally idiots in love)

never yours • azriel x reader (lucien x reader)

↳ by @really-fanny-longbottom (angst, stupid azriel tbh, fluff)

let me keep you company • azriel x reader

↳ by @utterlyazriel (so so fluffy)

you found me • azriel x reader

↳ by @pit-and-the-pen (angst, blood, comfort)

pretty little shadowsinger • azriel x reader

↳ by @illyrianbitch (fluff)

happy ending • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (fluff and a little angst)

pancake • azriel x reader

↳ by @acotarxreader (fluff, comfort, tw: panic attack)

domestic bliss • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @bat-boys (very fluffy, slightly suggestive)

and yesterday you were here with me • azriel x reader

↳ by @dawneternal (angst, comfort, tw: miscarriage)

(what if?) all i need is you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @empiresofstorm (whipped azriel, comfort, fluff)

baby mine • azriel x reader

↳ by @thisblogisaboutabook (angst, comfort, fluff, tws: sa and trauma)

calypso • azriel x reader

↳ by @solbaby7 (fav kind of female rage, mentions of blood)

the girl who cheated death • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @utterlyotterlyx (fluff)

the tormented & the unforgiven • azriel x reader

↳ by @lucysstoryworld (very angsty, graphic torture)

tattoos older than you • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @surielstea (age-gap, suggestive)

“you were flirting with me?” • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thehighladywrites (suggestive, fluff, humour)

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel x female!reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x gn!reader #azriel x gender neutral!reader #azriel the shadowsinger #the shadowsinger #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader smut #fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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mickandmusings · 7 months ago

Text

sincerity & sonnets

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #request #bridgerton x reader

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celestiamour · 2 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ to have & to hold ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you allow him to possess you entirely, body & soul┊1.2k words

kinktober 2024: oct 8. virginity loss

setting: logan (2017) old man! logan contains: fluffy smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊age gap, virginity loss, receiving oral & fingering, unprotected piv, abrupt ending

➤ author's note: i’m sorry for this being short and the abrupt ending, i’m just so tired from college because my substitute professor is a bitch and i have to work twice as hard just to get a 70% T-T the single mother reader is ending up to have three parts so look forward to that when kinktober is over teeheehee

your old man isn’t sure what kind of small deed of goodwill he must have done decades ago to deserve you, but it makes him perform more of them in his day-to-day life thanks to the existence of the biggest blessing of his miserable life. every time he comes back after a long day of work and dealing with customers of varying irritation levels, there you are patiently waiting for him no matter how late into the night it was. you help take off his suit jacket and tie in well-rehearsed moments, whistling a little old-timey tune on your lips and asking him how his day was.

he’s never really been a talkative guy, so most of the time he’ll just say it was fine and leave it at that, but occasionally, he’s willing to complain and vent about something that happened that got on his nerves. all the while, you’re finishing off a freshly cooked meal with garnish and serving it to him with a smile, listening to everything he has to say and massaging his weary muscles.

usually, however, you’re the one doing all of the talking, telling him about what happened today at work with that annoying co-worker and how you got invited to the wedding of an old friend from high school. he settles himself in the worn leather recliner and feels himself relax with your voice almost acting like a form of meditative music, and even if he doesn’t look like it, he listens to every word— you can tell because he doesn’t turn the newspaper page once and asks little questions like “who?” “when did that happen?” “is that so?” instead of just humming deafly.

he doesn’t even remember how you ended up moving in with him and acting like his housewife, giving him a taste of domestic life he didn’t realize he was yearning for. you’re just a stubborn little lady, he guesses, remaining persistent about how much you liked him despite his claims that you should steer clear of a bad man like him. he’s glad it ended up that way though, he couldn’t imagine where he would be without you by his side if you listened to him and went off with a human your own age who didn’t have the shackles he did.

there’s always a bit of lingering guilt regarding the last part, worried that he’s holding you back from fully experiencing life like a ball and chain bound to your ankle, but you were an adult who was mature enough to make your own decisions. if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have spent over a year trying to pursue it with someone as headstrong as him.

sometimes logan dozes off in that armchair, allowing you to drape a blanket over him and place a kiss on his forehead with a whisper of sweet dreams for the cherry on top. sometimes you coax him to join you in bed where it’s more comfortable, tangling your legs with his and clinging onto his frame like he was a giant living teddy bear. maybe he’ll do the same if he’s feeling particularly soft tonight instead of sleeping on his back like a soldier on active duty would. both of you always get a night of better sleep in the presence of the other, holding onto the dead weight of the other’s still body, feeling the slow rise and fall of their chest, and listening to their steady heartbeat.

yet your relationship had never gone past heated makeout sessions, not until tonight when you pleaded with him so sweetly to help you relieve the ache between your legs that you couldn’t fix yourself.

he’s hesitant at first, surprised at the slight and unfamiliar feeling of fear tugging at his consciousness. is this really okay? is a lovely angel like you really asking a dirty old man like him with the blood of dozens on his hands to be your first experience of something so intimate? he’s profoundly aware that he’s never been a good man, but maybe he would start now and let you go in your own direction…

before he could say anything, you reach out to kiss him, so tender and full of adoration to ease his worries. the way you look at him while gasping his name and making pleas for him is almost overwhelming with how blown-out your pupils are from need, looking at him like he was the only other soul in the world— like he was the only other soul in the universe who was meant to complete you.

he asks you one more time if you’re sure, absolutely sure, before taking the opportunity to

taste the sweetness of your arousal and quickly realize that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get enough anymore, scraping at the soft skin of your inner thighs with his beard although the pressure in your core overpowered the feeling of friction. your hands find their way into his graying hair and tug on them whenever he swirls his tongue around your engorged clit, making him groan and repeat the motion until you gush all over his mouth.

then he drags a calloused finger along your folds, collecting your slick and instinctively licking his lips at the sight of it despite just eating you out seconds before. his eyes aren’t really what they used to be, he briefly wishes he had his glasses on so that he could watch your virgin pussy take his index followed by his middle. even if he can’t quite see it clearly, he can certainly feel your walls pulsating at the intrusion as you let out a breathy whine.

you feel a bit dizzy already from your first proper orgasm, much less from the pleasurable stretch of his fingers starting to move in a scissoring motion as your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how intently he was staring like a man hypnotized. if you were in your right mind, you would have asked him to quit it, but all you were focused on was the unfamiliar feeling of tension in your torso while he praised how tight you were.

logan is exhibiting more gentleness with you than he’s ever been with anything in all his two hundred years, scared of hurting you and treating you like a fragile porcelain doll. you basically need to beg him to fuck you right because you worry you’ll be far too exhausted to continue if he continues like this, already reaching peak at least three times now and needing to pull at his belt to free his throbbing erection.

kiss him when he lines himself up with you and slowly pushes in, allowing you to feel every inch of him and taste yourself on his lips. claw long scratches into his back as you take him, allowing his regenerative powers slowly take effect yet still being able to leave lasting marks in his skin for him to admire the next day. tell him you love him when he finally bottoms out in you, watching him through teary eyes as he rests his forehead on yours, and listen to his beating heart open up to you as he tells you he does too.

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xazse · 2 months ago

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Warnings: KittyHybrid!Reader: ears and a tail that’s all + Prince!Satoru + Chubby!Reader + dryhumping + consensual somnophilia + mentions of Prince!Suguru, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna + Fem!Reader + Royalty Au

Imagine Satoru’s parents gifting Prince!Gojo a pet, a different type of pet, you’re a hybrid, a human with ears and a tail. Usually your kind is sought upon to be tested on and even used as maids. Everyone wants their hands on hybrids they go for millions of dollars because of how rare they are.

So when his parents call for him to come to the throne room he’s apprehensive thinking they were gonna introduce him to another princess, one he doesn’t even want. He thinks they’re all the same, so ready to pop out a baby to get that title.

When his parents have the maids bring you in he’s in awe, you’re a pretty thing too, he knows you were so fucking expensive just by the color of your fluffy ears and tail. A chubby thing he can’t keep his eyes off.

The dress you have on brings out your curves nice and plump he’s already obsessed.

“One of those Cathybrid ladies Satoru.” His dad is the first to speak, he beckons you over and you obediently follow to stand at his side.

“All for you my beautiful boy, you’ve been working extremely hard, no more sneaking out or causing trouble. We are very proud of you.” His adoring mother says in a soothing tone.

“She’s yours to do what you want with, she comes from a bad place be wary of that Satoru.”

His parents tell him to leave and become familiar with you.

Satoru doesn’t consider himself to be a shy person but right now he can’t even speak, you’re both sat on his bed sitting in silence, it’s really killing him, he wants to

Tell you just how pretty you are but he needs to be cautious not creepy.

With baby steps and lots of patience Satoru and you are finally comfortable with each other, maybe you’re too comfortable. You won’t leave Satoru alone at all, you constantly whine to be with him at all times.

He needs to go to an important meeting? You’re there right by his side always. His parents have had to reprimand you both for being too touchy in public, no you can’t secretly sneak off just to suck on Satoru’s thick tongue.

Satoru loves when you’re both in his room and in the midst of the cuddling session you start purring it’s so rare but so damn cute, you don’t even seem to recognize you’re doing it, you just look so content laying on him and rubbing all over him secretly purring.

The licking gets him too, he can’t help but slip his hand into his pants when you lick his chest, he fondles his cock till he cums on himself, his loud whines from the pleasure feel way too good.

He fondles your tail and ears to get you going, you’re both too shy to go any further than just dry-humping each other but it does get the job done, by the end of the session your both covered in sweat and underwear ruined with how wet they are.

He loves the extra fat on your body, it drives him insane, Prince!Satoru won’t admit it but he loves dragging his fat cock on your clothed plump ass from time to time when your sleep, you’ve said you don’t mind and that he’s free to do what he pleases but that’s all he’ll do just hump away till he cums again and again in his pants.

Prince Satoru and his cute kitty!hybrid that he just adores to the point where he loves showing you off to the other princes mainly: Suguru, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna.

They’re extremely jealous, they’ve been trying to find something like you but keep coming up empty so all they can do is get crumbs of information Satoru gives.

He’s always bragging about how you won’t leave him alone how they’re so unlucky to not have you.

When they talk to you they find that you’re extremely friendly, so friendly that you don’t mind when they give you tight hugs or maybe small kisses on the cheek. Prince Sukuna has tried and failed to get you to be with him many many times, everytime you give him that confused tilt and say you’re Satoru’s.

Sweet Prince Nanami makes sure to always gives you pretty roses that you just love, Satoru always has to win your affection back by giving you an even bigger bouquet of flowers.

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