#my wonderful moth husband <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

Text

give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot

summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.

Today 2:21 pm

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch.

You: Hurry, baby.

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?

Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing.

It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you.

You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan

Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks.

“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face.

“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”

3:03 pm

“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door.

He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want.

What you need, may be the better description.

It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only:

To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place.

“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss.

Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here.

He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil.

And in his defense, you have.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”

He’s not wrong.

You should be working.

But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’

“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him.

Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.

Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex.

Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.

“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.

“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.

This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.

He’s starting to get used to this.

And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it.

Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout.

Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life.

So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.

“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses.

“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly.

He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours.

"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life.

“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind.

“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him.

Please.

Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams.

How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want?

Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”

Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.

As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink.

“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh.

You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours.

“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses.

“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice.

His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink.

Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle.

“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues.

“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap.

He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.

He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts.

“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts.

“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you.

He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny.

“Yeah?”

By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor.

“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts.

You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends.

Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are.

“Fuck, honey.”

“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you.

"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky.

"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already.

It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out.

"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”

"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything.

“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”

Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of.

He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:

"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?"

You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever.

In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him.

Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times.

“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”

“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit.

“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking.

“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this.

You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long.

Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel.

Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you.

His wife.

The mother of his child.

The love of his life.

You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together.

He’s perfect.

This is perfect.

It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day.

“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious.

"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you.

"More."

"More?"

He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace.

"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:

“I want to make you a daddy."

His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said.

"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again.

“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace.

You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you.

The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him.

You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips.

"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.

You’ll give him anything to get what you want.

Even if it means saying it again.

“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him.

“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up.

He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want.

He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms.

“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit.

He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart.

You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close.

“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong.

And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses.

Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly.

“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you.

You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms.

“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth.

You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words.

“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order.

It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one.

“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him.

He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower.

And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again.

“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting.

Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly.

He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately….

“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight.

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story.

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately.

“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie.

Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh.

It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.

Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build.

“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”

“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail.

“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”

2K notes · View notes

littlerequiem · 15 days ago

Text

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 3

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Irregular eating habits mentioned specifically in this chapter (WC: 5.5k)

( Previous chapter / Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

You spot him alone in the library. Months have passed and winter has made its presence known.

Levi is staring at the fire. When his eyes lock with yours, you think they lack their usual cutting edge. Instead, he just looks tired.

“You gonna gawk much longer?” he asks.

“Well…” Your grip on your book tightens; you stay rooted to your spot. “You don’t mind if I intrude?”

“This is a public space, isn’t it?”

It is, but it doesn’t mean you won’t ask.

Levi doesn’t leave when you sit on the sofa opposite him. The two of you stay like this, letting the crackling fire be your guiding light into the night.

It isn’t that Levi always preferred being alone, it’s just that it’s had a way of finding him.

Growing up, Levi remembers seeking affection—craving it, in fact—like a moth seeks a flame. Levi worshiped the ground his mother walked on, loved to listen to her speak, imitated her, anything to hear a “Well done, my Levi”. He imagines it made him a needy brat, that he was probably a burden to his mother.

When she died, he thinks that's when it happened. When he began to close in on himself, when he started to keep his emotions close to his heart.

"My boy, what wonderful craftsmanship!" Mr Jakowski's joyful voice assault's Levi's ears, plugging him out of his wandering thoughts.

Levi looks up at his boss, ignoring the smell of fresh paint.

Mr Jakowski is leaning over Levi’s shoulder, spectacles shining under the dim amber light. A large grin creeps on his rosy face, a contrast to the blue paint smeared on his white shirt. "What are ya making, hm? Is that something—"

"—personal," Levi cuts him off, shifting in his seat to conceal his work.

His boss lets out a loud bark. He pulls back from Levi. “Hah, mysterious as always, our Levi!”

Levi has been working at Mare Lumber Co. for a little more than a year now. His boss, Adam Jakowski, originally an Eldian from Liberio, is the sole carpenter in town. Levi likes working here. Most days, Levi tends to the till, manages the inventory, and assists Mr Jakowski with customer orders. It's routine work, really, but it feels good to be working with his hands, with his mind.

“And how are you doing?” Mr Jakowski asks, propping his back against the edge of the counter, a habit of his whenever he chats idly with Levi.

“I'm fine.”

"Are ya sure? You seem a little distracted, dear boy."

Mr Jakowski got in the habit of calling Levi ‘dear boy’ shortly after he took the job. At first, Levi told him off—sure, Mr Jakowski was older than Levi, but Levi was nearing his forties at this point. Levi was not a boy—never had been, perhaps.

And yet, he soon noticed something strange: every time he corrected the man, Mr Jakowski would correct himself, a distant glaze in his stare… only to make the same mistake the next day.

One day, his wife took Levi aside.

“You musn’t be cross with him, Levi,” Mrs Jakowski had said with a gentle voice. “My Adam and I… we lost our son ten years ago. Marleyans butchered him. And ‘dear boy’… that was Adam’s nickname for our son. Sometimes, I think… I think in his heart, my husband never quite got over it.”

After that, Levi never corrected Mr Jakowski again.

“Levi, are you listening to me?" Mr Jakowski laughs. "You’ve got that glaze in your eyes of a dreamer, the way my daughter be sometimes. Never seen it on ya before.”

Levi scowls. “I think you need to clean your glasses, old man.”

“Is it that missy staying at your house that’s got you looking so—”

“No.”

“Sure about that?”

At that, Levi stays silent. Of course, he’s sure. He'll be damned if he lets trifling innuendos get under his skin.

And yet, Mr Jakowski's eyes glint knowingly all the same, as if catching wind of something Levi isn't aware of. It almost makes Levi want to speak up (though, to say what?), but before he has the opportunity to say a thing, the man leaves him be. Levi listens to his receding footsteps and the tinkering noises soon coming from the workshop area of the store.

Levi reverts his attention onto the wooden figurine in his hands, casting it an altogether unimpressed look.

What he’s making… it’s stupid, isn’t it?

For the last week and a half, Levi has been using his lunch breaks to work on it. Right now, this wooden creation is simply a great blob of nothing. And yet, Levi can’t stop from continuing it. It started with your arrival, this idea, when something spurred deep in him to create and he doesn't know if it will lead to anything.

Perhaps he's wasting his time, perhaps—

The bells on the door chimes. Levi's eyes swerve up.

And he promptly places the figure on his lap, concealed right under the counter.

Because you've just entered the shop, greeting him with a pleasant smile. “Afternoon, Levi!” The door closes, light pooling around you, dewy and delicate. "Are you on your lunch break?"

Levi lifts a brow but gives you a slow nod.

"Oh, good, I was scared I got your lunch time mixed up..." You lift a basket that was hidden behind your back, showing it off like it was some prized thing. “Ta-da!”

Levi just stares, not understanding what he's supposed to be seeing.

“I brought lunch.”

Oh, that's a first. You've never come all the way into town to visit his place of work, let alone have lunch with him. Is this because he accidentally let it slip that he sometimes skips lunch on his work days? You seemed particularly affronted last night; you'd washed the dishes grumbling something beneath your breath...

“Miss Adler, is that you?” As if on cue, Mr Jakowski appears to Levi's left side, safety glasses still lodged on his head. He lets out a full-belly laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I thought I recognized your melodic voice. It's good to see ya! I’ve been telling Levi to bring you around for some time now, but he's kept you all for himself."

"Has he, now?" you muse. "That's not very polite of you, is it, Levi?"

Levi keeps his expression blank.

Mr Jakowski steps around the counter. "Is that lunch I see? You know, Levi rarely eats much in here."

“I know, that’s why I’ve come. I'm on a mission to change that, sir. I've brought lunch and even my secret trump card… cake!”

“You sure know the way to a man's heart, Miss Adler!” You pinch your lips, seemingly flustered, but Mr Jakowski is already shifting his attention to Levi, something almost devious splitting in his boss' expression. Levi's gaze narrows instantly, suspicious of whatever is to come next. “Now, you heard the lady, dear boy. You wouldn't want to reject the hospitality of such a kind woman, would ya?"

Levi considers Mr Jakowski. His offer sounds tempting enough, but Levi's already shirked his duties by working on his project. His lunch time is practically over...

His boss seems to read his mind. "Take an extra hour." Mr Jakowski walks over, squeezing Levi's shoulder—not painfully, but not lacking zest. The man leans closer, the smell of paint weaving into Levi's space once more. "Shop's quiet today, anyway—I'll handle it. And don't forget to hide that little secret of yours. Wouldn't want her to see your gift before it's finished, hm?"

Levi's eyes flicker from Mr Jakowski, then onto you. His shoulders rise... then fall again. He gives in with a sigh. You came all this way, after all, and Levi was never one to waste food.

“Fine,” Levi mutters, eying Mr Jakowski, “I'll be back in an hour, on the dot.”

“What are you reading?” you ask him one night. The two of you are at it again—sitting on different armchairs, reading in front of the fireplace. It's been a routine of yours these last evenings.

“History books.”

You raise a questioning brow—that wasn't what you expected Levi to be interested in.

Levi seems to pick up on your question before you even voice it. “I want to understand why you upsiders do it.”

Upsiders, the term coined by those living in the Underground for those living above.

You tilt your head. “Why we do what?”

“What you live for.”

Levi feels like he’s about to outright melt.

The park at this time of the day seems to gather heat like a damn magnet. Sitting on a picnic blanket under a large willow tree isn’t enough to stop sweat from coating his neck—summer is in full swing, and even the yellowing grass blades around them seem to feel its effects.

Over the last minutes, you’ve been telling him all about your morning: how you worked in the garden, how you cleaned up around the house.

“… then I went back into town to buy lunch," you explain, one hand outstretched as you caress the grass blades with the tip of your fingers. You seem content, relaxed. "I'm very excited to hear your thoughts on the cake, 'Vi. It’s a specialty from the Southern part of Marley, apparently.”

Levi squints, the eyelid on his bad eye trembling from the glare cast by the sun. Laid out between the two of you is something that’s just short of a small feast. Sandwiches, sliced fruits, fresh lemonade, and a takeaway box that contains what Levi can only guess is this infamous cake you're so excited to make him try.

Vegetables, cheese, sugar. Levi still isn’t used to having these ingredients in such abundance. Maybe he never will be.

But he certainly won't let any of it go to waste.

"Hey, didn't I tell you to take it easy?" Levi mutters, picking up a cheese sandwich. "You didn't need to waste your free time doing all of this.”

"Come on, after my big freakout from last week, it's the least I could do."

"I told you, it was nothing—“

“But it wasn’t to me. I wanted to do this,” you cut in, weighing each word like it held its value in gold. Levi notices you reeling your hands into fists... only to be ushered out of existence as you shrug off the uncertainty. “Besides,” a bright smile brackets over your face, "all of this is keeping me busy. If I don’t do this, well… I've found that I just want to sleep all the time. At least, like this, I’m too occupied with thinking too much. Know what I mean?”

Levi thinks he does. It's why he always enjoyed cleaning so much, to some extent; it kept the edge off of things. He isn’t sure what that says about either you or him.

"I'm glad I could see where you work," you continue. "The shop has a certain aura to it, doesn't it?"

"It's the smell of saw dust and paint. You get used to it."

"I meant there's warmth to the interior." You snort, rolling a particular grass strand between your index, tugging at it without ripping it out. "But I like the smell, too, now that you mention it. I've only dabbled in oil paintings here and there, but it reminds me of that. I imagine adding color to something—anything, really—for a living must be rewarding. You get to style furniture according to someone's wishes, make sure it's dear and personal to them. That's pretty amazing, right?"

Levi almost smiles. Count on you to spin what some might consider mundane work and describe it as something magical. You've always had a knack for doing that, even in times of adversity.

"And that boss of yours sure seems eccentric," you muse as you lean back, "bet he makes every day feel extra special.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Your eyes drift up to the sparse clouds. “Special’s… good. Special’s fun.”

Levi's lips twitch. Yes, he supposes that's true. Many things can be said about Mr Jakowski, but boring is not one of them.

"You and him are similar in that way," he murmurs beneath his breath.

(You make every single of his day feel special, too.)

A gentle breeze picks up the front section of your hair; it makes the smile on your face more noticeable, somehow more in the spotlight. For a moment, a delicate silence settles in, one filled with the sound of tree branches swaying above, its shadows moving across your face. Levi catches himself staring at you—again. Before he knows it, he's watching as you draw your attention on the food options laid on the picnic blanket. Your eyes stop onto a particular plate.

Without even thinking about it, Levi raises the plate towards you.

You grin, grabbing a slice of spinach pie. "Thanks." As Levi retreats his hand back, placing the plate back on the picnic blanket, he notices you pausing. His eyes meet yours; your eyebrows knit together. "Hey, what's that on your hand?"

Levi feels the heat of your attention as he glances down at his palm. Ah, that. The bandage. Levi forgot all about it. Earlier, while working on his personal woodwork project, Levi accidentally cut himself. The cut is superficial in nature, and the blood that leaked out of it felt excessive. Like his body was being dramatic for no good damn reason.

Unsurprisingly, your reaction blows out of proportion, too. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

"S'fine." Levi now holds his sandwich with both hands, trying to shield his bandaged hand so you don't reach for it (somehow, he thinks you will). He's not sure how to handle your care right now, so he turns away from you, pretending to be interested in seagulls foraging nearby. "I patched it up."

“Still, you should disinfect it when we’re home…”

(Levi still isn’t used to that term of possession. We. Like it's his home, as much as much it's yours. Something shared.)

"I can make an ointment that'll speed up the healing process, perhaps, so you're not encumbered for very long,” you continue. Levi glances back at you. You're holding your chin thoughtfully. “I’ll need to go buy some tea tree oil for that. Maybe I should also stock up on ethanol and other essentials while I’m at it...”

The sight of you all pouty causes Levi to scoff. “Thought you weren’t a doctor no more?”

He takes the last bite of his cheese sandwich.

“For you, Levi, always.”

Levi chokes. He begins to cough, the half-eaten bread hammering at his chest.

Your hand is on his back just as soon as his coughing fit starts. "You okay?"

Levi nods with a blank expression, swatting your touch away. He stares at you from the corner of his eyes, disbelief lodged behind his gaze. Shit. Why do you have to say stuff like that? It's like you're trying to make his heart explode or some shit.

“Cutting yourself at work and almost choking to death.” You whistle lowly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch, Ackerman.”

“I choked because of you, Adler.”

“Because of me?” You blow air with your lips. “Why, what did I do?”

“You—“ Levi feels himself growing hot—too hot. Blast this damn heat. “Forget it.”

You lean back, looking at him curiously. “Is this the fate that awaits me in a few years when I reach your age? Choking and half-finished sentences?”

Levi’s eyes narrow. “Well, aren't you full of jokes today?”

“Thanks. I’m trying real hard, in case you couldn’t tell.” You bite back a full-teeth grin; Levi hates how adorable you look, even when you're teasing him—especially when you're teasing him. “Maybe that’s what I should pursue next, huh? Comedian… that'd be quite the career change.”

Levi shakes his head. “I’ll have to support you financially for the rest of your days.”

A burst of laughter rolls out of you. It makes Levi feel queasier still.

“Hey," you say once your laughter has dimmed down. Your gaze holds his, bright and true. "What were you working on anyway, that you ended up cutting yourself?”

“Nothing.” Levi doesn’t supply you with more information, the memory of the unfinished figure flashing in his mind. It's trivial, the sort of work he's been doing, especially compared to what Mr Jakowski builds. “Just keeping busy.”

Because Levi’s life is just that now. He has to keep himself busy, to fill it with things so he doesn’t stop moving.

“Hey, Levi?” Levi looks back at you, and you shoot him a lopsided smile. “Do you ever think your past self would believe you’re out here now, carving wood for a living?”

Levi considers your question. He’s not the sort of person to wonder about these questions, but he’s not surprised that you still are.

The answer is simple. No, his past self wouldn’t believe it. His past self wouldn’t believe most of it.

He tells you as much, aching to change the subject. “What about you? Picked up a pencil yet?”

“Hm… not yet. Haven’t been feeling it, to be honest." There's something a little sad hanging on your face for the shortest moment, only to be replaced by wide eyes and parted lips. “But, oh, I promise, that doesn't mean I don't like your gift or anything. The supplies you bought—I'll make sure they don't go to waste! I just—”

"Hey, breathe," Levi interrupts, his eyes charged on you. "It's fine if you don't. There's no pressure.”

Your shoulders deflate. You give him a tired smile. “Thanks.”

In the distance, a school bell rings. Children begin to pour out of the building, like a flock of birds leaving the nest, knowing it is there to come back to.

“Anyway,” you say, reaching for the sealed container. “Enough of that. It's time for my favorite part of any meal: sweets. I’m eager to know your thoughts on this lemon tart.”

(The answer? Levi will discover he has a taste for lemon desserts.)

After that day, it becomes a routine of sorts. You show up some days to have lunch with Levi. On the grass under the willow in Mare, you and Levi watch the sea drift from afar, cake laid out between the two of you.

“Oi, what’s this?”

You look up from your notes on your desk. Levi has barged into your office, holding the silver tin you asked to be delivered to him.

"That's Valerian root,” you answer.

”Valerian root,” he repeats, eying you suspiciously. “Why?”

"Um... think of it as a gift, I guess?"

"Why? We’re not friends."

A grimace flashes on your face—ouch. So, Levi doesn't see you as a friend, even if you're starting to consider him as such, anyway.

"Well., I noticed you seem to have insomniac tendencies, so I...” You clear your throat, swatting a dismissive hand in the air. “If it makes it easier to accept it, think of it as a medical order."

"A medical order." Levi scrunches his nose, pinching his lips together. "And what does Valerian root do, anyway? "

"Valerian root is tea. Or well, not tea. It's an infusion. But you can brew it the same way and it helps... it helps to fall asleep."

When Levi comes home that night after work, the sun is setting low over the sea, a red dot over the horizon. There's a gentle breeze in the air, one that carries with it the smell of salt and sand from the beach just below the valley.

As soon as Levi is home, he slips into his usual patterns. He takes his shoes off, swapping them for the soft slippers Gabi and Falco once gifted him. He grabs his indoor cane by the entrance, just where he left it. Then, like a rite of passage, he makes his way to the common room, expecting to find you.

You're not there. Instead, the quaint room that serves as a kitchen, living room, and dining room is empty, a distinct smell of herbs in the air.

Levi recognizes the scent almost immediately; it's the same fragrance that hung around the Survey Corps infirmary on any given day. Frankly speaking, Levi equates the smell with, well, you. It's been years since he smelled it.

Peppermint, chamomile, tea tree oil... there was always a particular mixture of herbs you favored to treat ailments. Funding within the Survey Corps was sparse, after all, all the more within the medical wing, so to remedy this, you had to get creative: you bought cheap herbs in bulk and created balms with what the Survey Corps could afford. The same herbs Levi now smells in the air.

And Levi suddenly gets a sense of...

Home.

It's corny, really, that all of a sudden, he feels more at home than the home he's inhabited in the year of living alone. But maybe that's the thing about getting older; there's just smells that remind of the past, things that feel impossible not to acknowledge.

In a way, Levi is grateful that those scents are what he associates with your infirmary, with your hands. Later, when his leg was wounded, and he became accustomed to the stomach-flipping stench of strong antiseptic solutions prevalent in Marleyan hospital tents, the memory of you—of his fucked-up sense of home—remained untainted.

"Oh, fuck!"

A crash assaults Levi's ears. He turns, only to find you half-bent down, picking up a pile of books from the ground. You straighten back up, looking flustered at the sight of him.

"L-Levi,” you huff, “y-you scared the living out of me!"

Levi's brows draw low, shooting you an unimpressed look in return. "Then you should pay better attention." You're holding onto a bunch of books that pertain to gardening. 'Flower symbolism' reads one cover. "If these were the streets, you'd be a dead woman by now."

His words cause you to roll your eyes at him, although a playful tug of a smile graces your lips not a second later. "This isn't the streets, 'Vi. There's no one out there to hurt me, least of all within the confines of this house."

Levi knows you make a point, but his nature has always been to be suspicious of everything, and that much hasn't changed here. He wishes you'd be a little more careful, at least for his sake.

"Anyway, welcome back... how was the rest of your day?" You dart past him, placing your pile of books on the kitchen table.

Levi notices you've changed since he last saw you; you're now wearing a long skirt that reaches below your knees. Levi has never seen you wear anything like this. He wonders if you got it at the market in Mare, or if this is something you bought on your travels.

"Levi?"

Levi swerves his attention back to you.

Right, your question.

"Same as always." The rest of his day was, in fact, just as Mr Jakowski had predicted. Quiet. "What's all of this, then? You starting a bookclub or something?"

"Not quite. I spent my afternoon at the public library. Have you been?" Levi shakes his head. "Walls, Levi, it's even bigger than the one we had back hom–I mean, back on Paradis." You pick up a random book, flip through it and show him a page that's all about flower propagation. "I'm gonna make sure your garden's perfect."

Levi’s brows scrunch low. Truth be told, he doesn't see the big deal with flowers. Aren’t there more practical things to grow, like vegetables? Flowers seem to take up place and suffer the risk of easy destruction.

But maybe it's simply not for him to understand.

"Hey Levi, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah.”

"What was I talking about?"

Levi glances at you. There's a spark of defiance flashes in your stare.

He crosses his arms over his chest, face impassive. "Something something... gardening."

You chuckle, placing the book back on the table. "Actually, I was asking you if I could get your opinion on where to plant what tomorrow. You've got the next two days off, right? Can I spare a moment of your time?"

Levi doesn't work Saturdays and Sundays. The weekend, as Marleyans call it, is for rest.

"Yeah, I'll help."

"Great!"

With that decision out of the way, Levi leaves you to it. He stops in his bedroom to grab a clean change of clothes and then heads to the bathroom to start his rigorous pre-dinner routine (Levi's found that he will not, cannot, rest before he completes it).

It all starts with a shower, where Levi rubs at his skin until it is raw and pink, massages his scalp and hair until it's lathered and soapy, the scent of his lemon-scented soap rampant. Once Levi is pleased that every part of him is clean, he rinses himself with hot water, the act oddly meditative as he feels every muscle, every bone in his body come undone, one limb after another.

As soon as he's done and toweled dry, it's shaving time.

Tonight, as Levi lays out his shaving kit by the sink, he can't help but pause at the sight of his reflection.

Levi stares at himself.

Over the last three years, time has caught up to him, in more ways than one. His hair has gotten longer, yes, but it's the strands of silver now framing his face that Levi lingers on. Then, there are wrinkles on the sides of his eyes, on his forehead, on his smile lines that are new. He's even accrued a collection of freckles on the ridge of his nose; somehow, he thinks the warmer weather in Marley is responsible for that.

In some strange ways, with every new year Levi ages, he thinks he looks more and more like Kenny, minus the facial hair. That son-of-a-bitch got his way with him after all, it seems, and despite this, Levi suspects Kenny would still call him a runt if he were here standing next to him right now.

"Still can't grow facial hair, huh, kid?" Kenny would say. "And you're still just as short."

Yeah, that sounds like Kenny alright.

"Hey, 'Vi?” A shy knock makes Levi turn his head towards the door. “I forgot to give you the balm I made for your cut. Do you want it now?"

"Gimme a moment," he mumbles. "... I'll be right there."

Levi finishes his routine. He shaves his face and massages his leg. He changes into indoor clothes.

By the time Levi’s done, he finds you sitting on the sofa, flipping through one of your books while stroking Scout. It seems you've already started the preparations for dinner; there's simmering onion soup that's replaced the previous smell of herbs over the stove.

This time, upon hearing him approach, both you and Scout look up, almost synchronically. It makes Levi's heart a little warm—why does it feel so strange to have an audience waiting for him?

Before Levi can contemplate on this very question, you've swung to your feet. "Here, sit down; I’ll get the balm."

Levi does as he's told, taking a seat on the free spot—on the other side of the sofa, next to Scout. His peripheral catches you first washing your hands over the kitchen sink, then retrieving something from the ice-box.

Scout's purr pulls him back to the sofa. The kitten has made her presence known, demanding attention from Levi, and Levi obliges her. He scratches her under her chin like he always does, using his unwounded hand to do so.

Soon, the cat's purr vibrates against his fingertips.

"She misses you, you know." Levi glances over your shoulders. You're standing on his other side, bending down. "May I?" you ask, looking at his palm laid flat on the arms of the sofa.

Levi nods.

Carefully, you take his hand into your own, flipping it to remove the bandage and analyze the cut. The wound runs across the tender flesh of his palm, ending with his index. It's not a deep cut by any stretch of the imagination, but it is on his five-fingered hand. Just his luck.

“Did you know that Scout sometimes goes into your bedroom, meowing into the void?" you say in passing, eyes focused on his wound. "It's like she's looking for your ghost or something.”

"That cat needs to get used to me being absent."

"She's just attached to you. Can you blame her?"

Levi's throat goes thick. No, he supposes he can't blame Scout, not when he's felt that same emptiness himself before, knows how damaging it can be.

"Anyway, I hope she grows used to me being here, too. For now, she still refuses to enter my room when it's just the two of us, but I think we may bridge that gap soon." Your voice turns into a coarse whisper, leaning closer to Levi like Scout might somehow overhear—and understand you. "I may or may not have bribed her with some leftover tuna."

"You mean you’re spoiling her."

"Hey, all's fair in love and war." You lean back. A knowing smile tugs at your lip, delicate like the first bloom of spring. "Besides, there are worse things for a cat to be."

After that, you focus on tending to Levi's wound—disinfecting it, adding balm, wrapping a clean bandage by the careful press of your hands. It brings Levi back to the old days, when he'd watch you either tend to him or his comrades. There was always this intensity, this non-bullshit attitude, that would always wash over you. It made Levi aware just how seriously you took your job, how dedicated you were to your craft. It was one of the first things that made him respect you.

Now, as Levi watches you at it again, there is something else, too. Something that speaks volumes of just how touch-starved he's become. He tries to ignore the warmth that blooms under your touch, tries not to think about how long it’s been since anyone that wasn’t his doctor touched him like this.

He fails.

It might be why, when at last you seem satisfied with your work and rise to your feet, Levi finds himself doing the same. He stands, moving with no objective in sight, the scent of herbs and home and you beckoning him closer.

As he does, he ends in your personal space, his fingers almost grazing yours.

He freezes.

You seem just as surprised to find him in your space. Levi watches as your lips subtly part, the smallest shift in your expression that narrows into your eyes widening. He listens to your breath catch; it makes the tip of his fingers tingle.

"Um... Levi?"

Levi blinks, panic swelling in his chest, but before he can say a thing, a sudden "mrrrp" vibrates below. What happens next is a blur, but Scout has somehow jumped off the sofa, intertwining herself between you and him, and the sudden feeling of fur on your bare legs must have taken you by surprise.

Because the next moment, you’ve bumped the back of your calves against the edge of the sofa, almost tripping back.

Luckily, if there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's Levi's instincts. He instantly latches onto your elbow, steadying you, your warmth blooming beneath his grasp.

“Walls,” your voice vibrates against the shell of his ear, breathless. "... Thanks."

You straighten, taking a subtle shift back. Levi finally lets go, clears his throat, and moves away. He flexes his hand, trying to rid himself of the tickling sensation he'd just felt.

"It's nothing." He focuses on Scout, who's skittered away and in between the dining chairs, looking at you and Levi with wide eyes. Levi exhales harshly as he stares at her. "Tch, have a care, you damn cat. We're practically titan-sized to you; don’t creep around like that unless you want to end trampled on."

The rest of the evening is uneventful. Like every other evening since you moved in, you and Levi share a meal, seated at the dining table, facing the window with a viewpoint on the sea. You share tidbits of information you've learned about the village and its inhabitants, while Levi provides scarce comments here and there. You discuss Gabi and Falco’s upcoming visit for the solstice, and everything you plan to do with them.

Everything is just as Levi remembers it being. The setting is different, there are people missing… but there is something soothing that he is here now, with you, with scents that don't feel foreign, with foods that feel familiar.

One thing does loom over Levi's mind, though.

Levi swears you drew closer when he stood.

One night, you fall asleep in front of the fireplace.

Come morning, Levi's gone, but there's a blanket draped over your body.

That night, Levi can't sleep. That in itself isn't shocking; Levi's always been a chronic insomniac. Still, when the telltale signs of a sleepless night make themselves known and Levi realizes he's in for one of those nights, he doesn't waste time. He gets up and goes to make himself a fresh cup of valerian root tea.

Half-way there, however, something stops him in his tracks.

It's your the door to your bedroom, half-ajar, warm light pooling out.

And Levi sees you.

You're on the floor, crouched over something. Next to you, it seems that your bribing paid off; Scout is by your side, staring at you with keen interest, tilting her head as she looks at your every movement.

That's when Levi notices what you're doing, what you're twirling around one by one, as if to show the cat.

Your drawing materials, his gift to you. You've taken them out of the desk he built, laying them all on the floor to inspect them.

Pencils, an eraser, a notebook.

Huh.

Thanks for reading! This is a slow build into feelings and healing, but I hope the journey will be worth the read. If you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments/tags. Take care <3

149 notes · View notes

littledovesnow · 1 year ago

Text

vows

the wedding vows <3

word count: idk like 1k i think??

a/n: i cried writing this lol, also didn't proof this at all

-----

“Are you nervous?” You asked, sitting in the bridal suite with your newly minted husband, who kept spinning his new ring adorning his finger.

Shaking his head, he smiled up at you. “Not at all, gorgeous. Are you nervous? I’ve seen you ruminating over the vows since I got down on my knee.”

You felt your cheeks flush, sitting next to Coriolanus on the plush couch. This short period of time is something you and Coriolanus said was a necessity in this special day, wanting time to share vows and have a moment alone before all of the excitement and partying at the reception.

“I’m not entirely too sure if it’s nerves or excitement.” You admitted, fiddling with a loose string on the couch. “I feel like my vows are going to be so terrible, worse than any paper I had in school.”

Coriolanus frowned, squeezing your hand to get your attention. “I’m sure they’re wonderful.”

You gnawed on your lower lip, an awful habit you had developed in your teen years. “Do- do you want me to go first?”

“It’s up to you, my love.” Coriolanus murmured, not wanting to pressure you into anything, something you were so grateful he did.

“I think, I think I want you to go first.”

Nodding, Coriolanus pulled out the crumpled paper, eliciting a quiet laugh from you.

“Don’t laugh, my love is written on this paper.”

You held your hands up, your heart already swelling with love at the sight of the blonde man, who seemed just like the lanky acne-faced classmate you met all those years ago.

Clearing his throat, Coriolanus looked down at the paper for a moment, before saying your name in the velvety-smooth voice he used only when he was with you.

“I feel like I can conquer the world when you’re next to me, the love and strength you show is one of my favorite things about you. From when we were assigned lab partners, to mentoring at the Hunger Games, to being granted internships at the Citadel, you’ve always been the light I’m drawn to as a moth is to a flame. Thank you for loving me in my weakest times, for loving me when I was undeserving, I know that I’m not the easiest person to love. Thank you for always helping me be the best version of myself, for being the sole voice of reason in the echo chamber that is my life.”

You sniffled, Coriolanus glancing up at you with a soft smile before continuing his vows.

“From when you first came into my life, and didn’t bat an eye at my upbringing, my home, my family, I knew you were the one who would become my other half. You always treat Grandma’am and Tigris with the respect and love they deserve, for that I owe you my life. I vow to always put you first, I vow to keep you out of harm’s way, and I vow to be the best husband I can be. I vow to be the best father I can be, when the times comes, and I know you’ll be the world’s most amazing mother. I vow to love you without any reservations, to always be the reason for your gorgeous smile. I love you, my love.”

You were full-on crying when Coriolanus ended his vows, and he quickly exchanged the paper for the cloth napkins on the table, picking up the one that already had mascara stains on it from earlier.

“I love you, too, Coryo.” You mumbled, scooting over on the couch to hug your husband. “I love you so much.”

You two had a small moment of peace, before you sniffled and sat up, preparing yourself for your own vows.

Coriolanus gave your knee an encouraging squeeze, knowing you weren’t a fan of speeches in general, whether they be in front of large audiences or family friends.

“Coryo,” you started, knowing he wasn’t the biggest fan of when you said his full name, but you knew he would never react harshly to you. “From the day we first met, I felt like a magnet drawn to you. You wanted nothing to do with me, but I was determined to break you, to see the real you under the tough, serious exterior you’ve built up. And I am so glad I did, so glad I got to meet the real you, the Coryo who will laugh at my corny jokes, who will never complain when I steal the comforter in bed, who will take a bullet for me. You understand me, see me, accept me in a way that no one has before, you are truly my best friend, and I feel like the world’s luckiest woman to be able to call you my husband. I vow to always be your confidante, your partner-in-crime. I vow to have the patience that love demands, to always listen before reacting, to give you my whole heart. You are my person, my lover, my life, today, tomorrow, forever. I love you, Coriolanus Snow, you hold the key to my heart.”

Coriolanus’ eyes were glistening when you looked up from your paper, and you just barely saw his lip quivering.

“Do you mean that?” He asked softly, not wanting to break the serene moment.

Nodding, you gave him a watery smile, a fresh wave of tears spilling onto your cheeks. “Of course I mean it, you goon.”

Coriolanus pulled you up, wanting to properly hug you, inhaling the fresh vanilla and chai from your shampoo. “You are the reason my heart beats.”

“As are you, Coryo,” you replied, smiling as his lips met yours.

“Now, let’s give the Capitol the wedding reception of their lives.” You laced your fingers with Coriolanus’, his wedding band cool on your own fingers.

“After you, Mrs. Snow.” Coriolanus smiled, eyes glinting with hunger as he called you by your new surname for the first time.

-----

a/n: okay you're all so lucky this was requested i saved you form angst like coryo saved lucy gray

but for real there's some good angst coming in the new year

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games tbosas #hunger games x reader #hunger games imagine

226 notes · View notes

storm-angel989 · 5 months ago

Note

I thought of another cute request! Val’s wife and the other vees reactions to Val having a migraine and still trying to go to work

Hi Friend,

Love this request! Think OTO Val’s wife and storyline. We’ll call this OTO fluff.

<3 Mandy

I wonder if my wife knows that the lights make noise?

A sharp hum, a buzz most can tune out- myself included, most days. Unfortunately, as I laid in bed the sharp pangs pulsing through my brain made it more than clear today wasn’t one of those days.

I shut my eyes tighter and tried to review the days schedule in between pangs of pain. Two new models, six contracts, four shoots and Angel Dust…Angel Dust was owed his dues. Even if my saint of a wife tried to take my place in the studio for the day, as she had done successfully in the past, she couldn’t. This was my contract, and I needed to fulfill the terms personally.

I heard the shower turn off and tried to hide the pain as I forced myself to sit up. Five minutes. I had five minutes at most to pull myself together before she walked out of that bathroom, took one look at my face and the back to beg argument would begin. I had to divert the best I could.

Painstakingly, I pulled myself out of bed and slid on my glasses. I quickly grabbed my clothes from where she had laid my outfit out the night before and dressed as quickly as I could. I made my way over to the bathroom door. Three sharp, painful knocks before I spoke.

“Baby? There is an emergency in the studio. I have to go right to work. I’m sorry, mi amore. Breakfast will have to wait.”

Without waiting for a response, I hustled out the door and made my way down to my studio. As with every other due date, Angel Dust was sprawled out on the stage, eager to receive payment.

“Aw, Daddy,” he purred as I stepped onto the platform. His arms wrapped around my neck. “What do you say we have a little fun this time, eah?”

I tensed up. Ignoring the aching in my head, I pushed him onto the bed in one fell swoop.

“Oh yes, Daddy,” he moaned greedily. “I’ve been a naughty, naughty boy, I…”

“Shut. Up.” I growled as I pressed my lips to the base of his throat. “Your contract doesn’t say a fucking thing about you enjoying the process.”

Three minutes later I stood up and strode across the stage, leaving Angel behind in a haze of high and pain. I didn’t like what our contract demanded, but we were bound by it either way. At least I could abate my anger by making sure the drugs came with a miz of pain and pleasure. My hope was that someday, somehow the pain would overtake the pleasure and he would beg for an out.

As if I would be so lucky.

I slammed the door of my office shut, hit the light switch and in the dark, barely made it to the garbage can beside my desk before emptying my stomach of its contents. The act of payment started making me nauseous the day I met my reader, but combined with the pulsing pain in my head, it was unbearable. Gone was the thought of making it through the day- hell, I wasn’t sure I’d make it back upstairs. I picked up my phone and squinting, I hit the speed dial for my Vox.

“Vox, I’m..fuck, can you grab my migraine medication from the nurse and bring it to my office?”

The buzz of a dial tone was his only response. I put my head down on my desk and in minutes, the door creaked open, letting in a silver of light. I let out a groan and covered my closed eyes with my free hand.

“I find it incredibly ironic that a moth demons gets migraines, arn’t you supposed to be attracted to light?” Vox’s voice floated through the darkness.

“Quit teasing him,” another voice snapped. “Val, love, cover your eyes.”

I held back a groan. “Vox, I called you. Honey, you need to be…”

“Checking up on my husband, who clearly can’t take care of himself,” Reader said softly,

I felt her hand against his forehead, and her cool hand slipped under mine and over eyes. Inadvertently, I leaned into the comfort her palm offered and let out a soft moan of relief.

“Vox is gonna turn the light on. You’re going to slowly open your eyes, stand up and we’ll get you upstairs,” Reader continued.

“I need my…” I began.

“The studio is empty and Vox has your medication. Now shut up and do what I say,” she interrupted sharply.

I heard Vox chuckle and I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. Even under the protection of my wife’s hand, the light that slipped through stung my head like a thousand yellowjackets.

“She’s pretty feisty when she wants to be, eah, Val? Lights on.” Vox said lightly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

I barely remembered making it back to my bedroom. The sharp pinch of an IV needle, an ice pack and several hours later, the pounding slowly began to fade. Softly, I mentioned to my wife the relief I finally felt.

“You’re a fool for going into work today, you hear me? A fool. Even my father, the toughest of the commanding angels….”

I leaned up and cut her off with a kiss. She stopped scolding instantly and leaned into me.

“Bebita. I love you,” I said softly.

She rolled her eyes but kissed my forehead. “I love your stubborn ass too. Next time, make a better decision.”

79 notes · View notes

faerievampling · 11 months ago

Text

Killing Time Chapter 3: The Arrival

Link to Ao3

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Female Spawn!Tav

Word count: 5.5k

Warning: 18+, Explicit. Vaginal fingering. PiV. Body Worship. Possessive behavior.

You and Astarion had relocated to a different palace since Lord Moth’s attack on the main palace. Astarion still needed time to prepare for your journey, so he kept the two of you tucked away in a small, quiet castle somewhere in Amn.

The castle was cold, dank, and ancient, so unlike the palace you and Astarion called home, which had been built just half a century ago and kept in most pristine order.

I miss our home, too. This place is rancid. I wish we didn’t have to be here. Astarion reaches out to you, and you wonder if you’re distracting him from his work.

I can’t help but dwell on your more unpleasant thoughts. Of course it distracted me. You should be home, not hiding from Moth. Astarion’s mind swirls with anger and jealousy at the very mention of Moth. He yearns to know your body. To take what I have amassed, you along with it.

This was obvious, of course, and you worry Astarion is going to tangle his heart up again with his fears and regrets.

But here we are, my love, and we are with each other. Please don’t worry anymore, Astarion. You had been in the library, gorging on wine and erotic literature, and now you float to your creator, who highly anticipates your presence.

You know how I feel. Moth will never have me. No force is powerful enough to separate us.

On your way to Astarion’s office, you pass by several servants. Their hearts race at the sight of you and you think you dressed quite hauntingly beautiful today for this very reason.

You wore a devastatingly low cut black dress. With no straps, it was a miracle your breasts stayed unexposed. The sleeves connected to the cut of the neck and were long and flowy; Bethild had told you it made you look ethereal.

The dress had a deep slit on the side and the skirts danced around you, long enough to disturb one of the servants' own dresses, making the woman gasp at your closeness.

Yes, even just the brush of your skirt could make mortals bend to you. This woman wants you, so badly it’s pathetic. She is nearly panting and the smell of her arousal fills your senses. You let yourself look at the servant, just a look, but she isn’t much to see.

She looks like every other mortal to you, nowadays.

As you open the door of Astarion’s study, his eyes nearly pop out of his head at the sight of you. Astarion is ready to worship your body, to get on his knees for you, if need be; his mind is reeling with the thought of pushing his face into your breasts, and you’re almost surprised at his excitement.

This hadn’t been your intention, not entirely anyways. You had wanted to devastate the servants with your dark beauty, and you did want to hypnotize your husband with your body. But, most curiously, nearly all of your outfits that were taken from your palace to the castle were low cut, so it hadn’t been much of a choice. Of course, your husband was the culprit.

He gives you a naughty smile, causing you to blush, but you can’t help but notice the exhaustion in his eyes. The stress, the worry, the fear. He’d been dealing with so much recently, and you knew it was wearing him down.

Come, Astarion. You dance along the folds of his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. Take a break. You’ve been in here all day. I’m getting hungry and I miss you.

You smile as you wrap your arms around Astarion’s broad shoulders, bringing his head to rest on your supple breasts, as he’s still sitting in his armchair. You can already feel his emotions start to shift into something calmer, happier.

“I wish that I could, my love. There is just far too much to be done.” His voice is low, smooth, and you feel the pressure of his teeth and fangs as he gently bites the fat of your breast.

“One of the battalions from Neverwinter ate their horses, we were told,” He says with a laugh, because he simply thought it was amusing. “But, as I am the beloved ruler of many, I graciously signed off on increased resources and many other things I won’t bore you with, my darling.”

You needn’t worry about these things, Tav. The fighting in Faerun won’t touch us, Astarion assured you.

You really weren’t worried and hadn’t thought about it at all, so you knew that despite him addressing you, he really meant to say it to himself; that’s when it dawned on you that maybe you should be concerned about this…’war’.

“Fear not. Just let me handle everything, my sweet consort.” He mumbles to your breast. Our preparations are nearly ready, love.

Parsing through his layers, Astarion is a man of many desires: above all, he is wishing he could gorge himself on your blood and your cunt, which you find to be no surprise. But beneath his more carnal desires, you catch a floating thought about the spawn army.

Shortly after Ascension, Astarion couldn’t stop talking about it. As he amassed power, keeping you right by his side through it all, the desire to create more spawn only grew.

Of course, the logistics of it all kept Astarion from trying to talk you into it. Even the four spawn Astarion had now were hard to feed, and you couldn’t imagine having more.

Dwelling on the spawn army brings you back to your earlier days of marriage. Astarion had been more lenient back then, letting you fuck and feed from whomever you wanted.

“Do you miss it?” Astarion asks, his inquiry abrupt, having followed your train of thought. His intense ruby eyes peered up at you.

Not really. I like the idea, certainly, but in practice, you weren’t happy with that. You give him a sweet smile, hoping it looks right on your muted, eternally youthful but ancient face.

I do like to fantasize, though, about us with another man or woman. As for the feeding, if it was up to me, I’d drink from you and only you forever.

Astarion nearly moans at your words. “Such a sweetheart,” he teases before moving his hand to the curve of your hip. You lean against Astarion’s desk as the moment gets hotter.

He’s drinking in your body like a starving man, and his hands roam to your thighs, your breasts, and he’s thinking about how much he adores you.

Yes , you think, now is certainly the best time to bring this up. “But maybe you could allow me to use my fangs in battle, like we used to,” You suggest, trying to seem as innocent as possible.

“I don’t intend on you getting that close to the fight, my love,” Astarion’s hands don’t stop roaming, but there is a firmness in his voice.

“But?” You press as his hand begins to trail up the inside of your thigh and underneath your dress, where he is positively delighted to find you without panties.

But, if the need arises, yes. Protect your life at all costs. Astarion’s hand has wandered between the folds of your cunt, which is already wet from his worship.

His fingers slide along your seam, starting from your entrance and trailing your juices over your throbbing bundle of nerves at the top of your mound.

“So eager,” He teases, which you find rather humorous because you both know he is the eager one. He smiles playfully into your breast before he begins to plant kisses along your skin. “Tell me, what do you like to imagine, when you think of us with another?”

You blush. You and Astarion both already know, and you’re reminded of your favorite conquest as you feel the tip of Astarion’s finger slide between the desperate walls of your cunt.

You’re sucking him in, desperate for his contact, and he gives you an almost predatory smile.You can’t help but contract around him as he slides his knuckles deep inside.

But just as you are about to indulge with your husband in reminiscing on the memory of a lovely young man you once shared, you are interrupted by the alarm of a sending stone.

“Probably Lae’zel. I must take this.” Astarion murmurs, sighing heavily as he removes his finger from you, reluctantly releasing himself from your embrace.

Before Astarion moves for the stone, he pats his thigh, urging you to sit. You smile with muted excitement as you sit on his lap, his hands trailing to the root of your hair to nuzzle you to his neck.

Astarion can’t help but moan whenever your fangs slide into him. You can hear Lae’zel’s message in the background, but you are entirely lost in Astarion’s essence.

You even feel the shift in his mood immediately, but you can’t break away from your transic hunger.

Astarion rubs your back, signaling to you that you've fed enough. Unlatching your fangs from him is difficult, seemingly only getting harder over the years. Once you’ve come back to yourself, Astarion thumbs your chin, bringing you into a deep kiss.

He’s savoring his own blood on your tongue, and your kisses turn sloppy as Astarion has you exactly where he wants you now: drunk on him and in his lap.

But you can feel the edging of his anxiety at the border of his mind. He’s desperately trying to keep it at bay. You pull away from him, pressing your forehead against his to break those sweet, fervent kisses.

Don’t stop, Tav.

And so, you let his tongue slide between your lips as he takes his comfort in you. You hear the moan that escapes his sweet lips as the kiss deepens. You run the tips of your fingers from the back of his neck to the crown of his head, gently massaging his scalp.

“Gods,” You feel the vibration his words leave on your lips. “You complete me.”

***

Your arrival to the crèche was rather interesting, you thought. The crèche was hidden away amidst an enchanted forest located in the heart of Elysiuma, a strange continent largely untouched by civilization.

Lae’zel had told Astarion the crèche was called the Crystalline Spire, known for its dazzling tower-like appearance.

You and Astarion hadn’t yet had the pleasure of truly admiring the crèche, because the moment you walked through the portal Lae’zel had summoned, you were immediately met with swords to your throat.

You grab Astarion’s wrist before he can react in violence; he opts to transform you both into a red mist.

Despite your shock, you can’t help but notice the diamond-like walls of the crèche, rough and jagged around the edges, but quite beautiful.

You think it’s fitting for the Githyanki.

You had brought one servant and one of Astarion’s spawn with you; Cynthia, a hard-working human servant, yelped and dropped your luggage. You’d grumble at her if you weren’t in an incorporeal form.

Astarion’s spawn, Ruth, was a half-elven adventurer who often acts as a bodyguard. Each one of Astarion’s spawn had purpose, and Ruth was just an absolute maniac on the battlefield. Ruth was simply awaiting orders once he stepped through the portal, ignoring the poor screaming servant next to him.

“Tskva. Stand down,” A familiar voice rings out, and you see Lae’zel part the crowd as the astonished gith soldiers lower their weapons.

Astarion rematerializes your forms, his hand on the small of your back as he pulls you closer to him. “It’s good to see you too, Lae’zel. Now, tell me, why are your little green men pointing their sticks at me and my consort?”

The warriors are immediately ogling you, your form looking dutifully sinful in strappy and tight-fitted camp clothes. They had reminded you of what that Sharran cleric used to wear at camp, which you only know because of a memory that swims freely in your Master’s mind: Astarion remembers when Shadowheart came onto you at the tiefling party. He had been watching then, too.

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “They won’t do so again.”

We’ll feast on them if they do , you think . Astarion agrees.

There is more prattle amongst the portal guards and Lae’zel, but you’re still adjusting to all the smells and heartbeats in the room to pay any attention. In court, you were often around mortals, just never this close to them, and certainly not around so many at once.

“We’re seriously allying with vampires?” One of the younger guards whispers to another warrior beside him. He thinks you can’t hear him. Foolish.

“Come, let us forget this and move on to most important matters,” Lae’zel turns around, beckoning you to follow.

The crèche was no longer a hatchery, Lae’zel explains as she leads you through the dazzling, tunnel-like halls, but now a battle fortress, one hidden away from Vlaakith’s warriors.

When she shows you your sleeping quarters, you and Astarion are both rather horrified. There was a queen size bed shoved in the corner and a set of bunk beds along the opposite wall.

“This is what adventurers and heroes get, my consort. A shabby little room to share with the servants and spawn.” Astarion spats. “Let’s just move on.”

Lae’zel only glares at him before continuing her tour.

Astarion is now taking note of every secluded corner, every empty cranny, because the two of you are starting to realize that your tight schedule of feeding and fucking would be interrupted by this maze of a crèche, the hundreds of gith warriors flooding it, and the state of your shared quarters.

You begin to silently catalog today’s feedings in your head, suddenly anxious about your eating habits: you had fed on Astarion just this morning, right before stepping through the portal and before that, you had several goblets of intelligent blood.

Twice. You fed on me twice. Astarion corrects you, his eyes flickering to you. You sense his frustration. Once just after you woke up and the other right before we stepped through.

You sigh, your train of thought lost as Lae’zel is leading you into a large, elegant chamber filled with warriors in the most decadent of armor. The war room was covered in maps, invasion plans, and balance books.

It took a lot to leave you and your beloved speechless.

In the center of the room stood a rather tall, handsome Githyanki warrior; you could tell he was of the most high rank, as the jewels on his armor glimmered purple, and the crown on his head matching.

The color of his skin reminded you of a freshly plucked peach, ripe for the taking. His hair was dark, black as a raven, and his piercing blue eyes fixated on you the moment you walked into the room, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of you. He gives Astarion a significant glance before turning back to you.

“The ‘True Hero of Baldur’s Gate’ has finally come at last?” His tone was mocking, his eyes sweeping over you, pausing at your hips and breasts before meeting your gaze once more. “The legends of her beauty do not lie. Nor do your own words, Lae’zel.”

Astarion is humored by this, but he’s starting to become bothered by the gawking and the comments. Maybe the low-cut top is going out of style, darling.

You can smell the flush in Lae’zel’s cheeks. You steel yourself, trying not to focus on all the heartbeats in the room.

“I am Kith’rak Elan,” He turns to Astarion, who has a rather mean mug on his pretty face. “Oh, and ‘Astarion the Decadent’, don’t think I don’t recognize you, as well.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kith’rak. I’m certain my lovely wife appreciates the compliments.” Astarion nearly hisses, and the hand that was once on the small of your back is now gripping your hip.

You and Lae’zel glance at each other knowingly.

Everyone knows we’re married, Astarion. You poke at him. You couldn’t even remember how long you had been legally married.

Astarion replies almost immediately. But not everyone cares, lover. In his mind’s eye, you see Lord Moth taking you, whispering to you. You then see a flicker of the hundreds of wedding rings Astarion saw long ago, before he ever met his lovely consort. But he doesn’t dwell on this thought long: he never does.

One thousand, eight hundred and twenty two years. Our first honeymoon was in Tethyr.

“A pleasure,” You nod your head, your voice low but steady.

“Enough introductions,” Lae’zel commands, and the Kith’rak and Sarth’s begin to debrief you.

You and Astarion are to train with Lae’zel and Elan before taking command of several Githyanki soldiers, essentially making you Sarth’s. Or something to that effect: the Kith’rak liked to talk, you noticed, and you tranced for a bit before Astarion snapped you out.

“King Orpheus made an exception,” The words slither out of Elan’s mouth, the disgust on his face apparent. “But only in function alone.”

You stay as alert as you can while Elan drones on. You feel Astarion checking in on you frequently, like he’s scanning your thoughts for something specific.

What are you looking for? You ask him pointedly, your eyes happening to meet his own. His ear twitches, but he doesn’t respond to you.

Don’t be annoying. Just tell me. You poke again, agitated by the situation. Your hunger was creeping up on you due to the sheer amount of living beings around you.

A mote of melancholy kisses Astarion’s heart. He was only able to minimize your vampiric hunger, not fully free you from it. Over the years, you needed less blood to satiate, but you fed more frequently.

Lae’zel steals your attention once the meeting adjourns, and she orders you and Astarion to the training area.

“Although you will be focused on archery, Tav, at the insistence of your husband ,” Lae’zel spats, eyes darting over to your pale lover, “It would be ignorant and neglectful of me to not train you in hand to hand combat. Go on, then. Pick your weapon.”

You look to Astarion; he had already said you could use your fangs in combat, so surely he was fine with this.

Astarion clears his throat; he could stare a hole through her, you think. “Of course, old friend. I had already considered it.”

You roll your eyes at Astarion’s violent thoughts, busy inspecting your weapon choice: in the training room, there were dozens of racks with various types of enchanted weapons.

The great sword caught your eye, remembering how you used to wield one. It seemed too large, rather oafish, now. But you pick it up anyways, because it’s familiar.

Upon grasping the sword, it takes almost no effort for you to wield; but it feels strange, like you’re too occupied, but you can’t exactly pinpoint the feeling.

Lae’zel and Astarion are looking at you curiously.

“Hm.” Astarion mumbles.

“What?” Lae’zel asks.

“Maybe you should just try a few short swords and your fangs, my love.” Astarion purrs. It was almost as if he sensed your hesitation before you registered it, pinpointed the problem before you even knew what the problem was.

The great sword simply felt wrong in your hands, as your most instinctual movement was more cat-like than what a sword would permit. Following Astarion’s suggestion, you free up your movement and take a more aggressive stance, fitting for your nature as a vampire bride.

“Tch. I’ve never known you to dual wield.” Lae’zel says, preparing her sword as the two of you begin to spar.

Astarion, watching you delightfully but carefully from the sidelines, is ready to intervene if Lae’zel takes it too far. Or gets too close to you, for my liking.

Oh, please, husband. Control yourself. Lae’zel has charged at you, and you dodge her attack, your vampiric movement being too quick for her.

“You are ignorant to think I haven’t changed in over two millennia,” You say, your words harsher than intended. Lae’zel’s mind was an open book, and you kept finding ample opportunity to creep your way in.

The shadow of her Master… she’s now thinking about Cazador, and you violently push the thought away before you can truly register it in your mind.

“I’m sure your Master has trained you well, Tav,” Lae’zel taunts, bringing her sword down onto you, and you barely roll away. “Like a puppy.”

“Watch yourself,” Astarion begins, but you are far louder.

“He’s given me enough power to keep up with you,” You hiss as you catch her arm on your off-hand sword, creating a slice of crimson that begins to flow down her arm. It is deliciously hypnotizing…

“Now is the time to test yourself . Can you control your bloodlust, spawn ? Or will you succumb to your greatest weakness?”

You can’t look away. The smell of her sweat and musk has you remembering how she tasted: her lips, her cunt, and how tangy and delicious her blood must be…

Astarion is twisted up, feeling some emotion between anger and panic. Not entirely because of your lust for Lae’zel: Astarion never chastised you for your thoughts. He knew it was action that mattered; but, that is not to say it didn’t make him jealous.

Oh, it certainly did. But his emotions are betraying him, and you catch a glimpse of something hidden, something he didn’t want you to know: he doesn’t think you can really control yourself.

And you start to think he’s right. Before you realize, Lae’zel has you on your back on the ground, swords knocked out of your hands.

“If only you had more self control. Instead, you husband babies you and let’s you suckle whenever you desire,” Lae’zel looks to Astarion, “You’ve raised a poor vampire.”

Astarion silently agrees with her. “I didn’t create her to be a warrior, gith. I created her to be happy and safe, forever, by my side. She’s my wife, not my slave.”

“You say I have no self control, but I didn’t bite you,” You begin to argue, “I wanted to, and I’m thinking more about it now-” You grumble.

“Darling,” Astarion chides.

“But you were overcome with your bloodlust. You spaced out for a second too long, and now, you’ve been defeated,” Lae’zel says, holding out a non-bleeding hand to help you up.

You accept, understanding Lae’zel is making a good point, despite your frustrations with Astarion. Part of you hoped your lusts for your ex-lover would upset him.

Lae’zel drinks a healing potion, her wound healing up before your eyes. Pity.

“We will try to help you overcome this.” She says.

“If you put me in front of enemies I can actually bite, I’m certain of my victory.” You say.

“But can you keep yourself from getting lost in their blood? From what I recall, Astarion nearly drank you dry that night at camp.”

The memory sends you and Astarion both in a whirlwind; you remembered how desperate you were for him as he put his lips on your neck. He remembered how hard he had gotten, and how ashamed he had felt later about planting those first seeds of seduction.

It makes him think of the ‘before times’, about the warmth of your skin, about the beat of your heart, and the Ascendant is nearly shrouded in his self loathing: the feeling is so strong it nearly overcomes you, that burning from within scorching your very heart, the pain almost physical.

It is shut away after a beat. The following moments are muted.

You hesitate before you speak, “I was the first thinking creature he ever drank from. Things are quite different for me, Lae’zel. I drink intelligent blood every day.”

“It is something we will work on.” Astarion sounds dismissive, as if he’s already thought it over and come to a decision.

You continue to spar with Lae’zel while Astarion focuses on his own training, largely ignoring you for the rest of the day.

The two of you were upset at each other. Astarion tried to ignore his jealousy of your lust for the woman, and you tried to battle out your anger at Astarion’s feelings towards you.

After training all day, your fangs ache almost as bad as your stomach does: you needed to eat, and although your mind was often on Astarion’s blood, you knew you were starting to lose it a bit when you couldn't stop thinking about licking the sweat off his face, just to taste some of his body fluids.

“I must excuse myself,” You murmured to Lae’zel, doing your best not to stare at her neck.

Despite his upset, of course, Astarion wouldn’t ever let you go wanting: Wait for me in our room. I’ll make sure our bunkmates give us our privacy, Astarion reaches out to you. It doesn’t make you feel much better, because the ache of hunger is hard to ignore.

Once you get to your quarters, the maid helps you bathe before you slink into bed, dismissing her; you order Ruth to stand at the doors and keep an eye on Cynthia, who has caught the notice of several of the warriors.

Now, all there was to do was wait for Astarion. And despite your difficulties, you could be rather patient when you need to be.

To occupy yourself, you replay all the fights you could remember in your head before moving onto all the instances Astarion saw you fight: it was strange, watching your mortal self take so many blows.

You had been a fighter, always on the front lines. So weak. So fragile , you think to yourself .

Flicking through the memories, you watch as you are downed countless times, Astarion crying out for you in agony nearly every time. His memory of your heartbeat during these moments is substantially more vivid than the rest, and you can hear it in your own ears if you dwell on it for too long.

I wish I could have given you even more. Astarion’s thoughts mingle with your own. You can sense his physical closeness now.

The door opens, silver curls peaking through.

But eternity with you was worth the cost, Tav. My love. “Don’t you agree, pet?”

You can sense his discomfort at you parsing through some of his more painful memories. However, to your relief, he had decidedly chosen to forget your lusts for Lae’zel. You are mine. You always have been, and you always will be, Tav. You complete me.

He must be feeling sentimental.

One of his more common thoughts is of whisking you back home, but he’s accepted the decision that was made.

“Yes, of course, my love,” You answer. Astarion quietly bathes himself, his eyes never leaving you, of course.

Once he’s finally eased his way onto the shabby mattress, the two of you meld together, melting in each other's arms as if one being.

Astarion doesn’t make you wait, letting you feed at his neck the moment he envelopes you in his warm embrace. His blood pulls you into a trance, as usual, and Astarion speaks pretty words in your ear as you sup on him.

“My pretty little wife,” He speaks as he pulls you away, the world coming back to you as your senses sharpen. “Have you finally come back to me?”

“Yes,” You grumble, starting to further understand Lae’zel’s meaning.

“You know, you are the second most powerful vampire in the world,” He says, bringing you closer as he idly rubs the length of his hardening cock on your stomach.

Yet you so quickly agreed with Lae’zel. I slipped into her mind today, after she’d said that. She thinks I am diminished, weak; that I am hidden in your shadow.

Astarion rolls onto his back, taking you with him.

You know those things aren’t true. Why pay them any mind? Astarion is undoing his trousers, cock springing free as his hands move between your thighs.

“Quickly now,” He says gruffly, a finger tugging on the band of your panties, pushing the crotch aside as he grasps his cock with the other hand, lining himself up with your entrance.

You really think I'm a poor Master? That you are my creation, yet you are weak? Astarion directs at you as his swollen member probes you, swiping from your entrance to your nub, spreading your juices along your labia.

“N-no, darling,” Is all you can mewl from above him as you feel his large tip probe your entrance, pushing between your tight walls.

Your husband sinks into you slowly, his hands settling on your ass, eagerly grasping your panties as he pushes you down onto him; his slow, deliberate movements aren’t enough, and he needs your friction to meet him in the middle, taking all of you as he inserts the whole of his length in your tight core.

You cry above him, bringing up your nightgown to free your breasts, earning a moan from Astarion as he brings a hand between your legs.

You feel the pressure of his thumb on your throbbing, wet clit as he moves in a steady circular motion, causing you to clench around his cock in anticipation.

I love you like this. So swollen, filled with my blood and my cock. “Mine,” Astarion whispers in your ear.

Astarion is about to drink from you, and just as his fangs drag along your skin, inviting you in, he curses, sensing the rumbling approach of dozens of Githyanki men.

Astarion rolls you over, kissing your lips gently as he parts from you, ignoring the lewd sounds and trailing juices as his cock pulls out of you.

I don't want them to hear you. And what I want to do to you isn’t forgiving. “You wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, my consort.” This makes you whimper, desperate for more of him.

Can’t you feel Ruth’s growing impatience? He asks, and you nod, because you can feel it, you just didn’t know why he was bothering to ask, because you didn’t give a shit about how Ruth felt.

You wanted to fuck your husband, dammit. Were you not all powerful? All beautiful? Created this way for the very purpose of doing whatever you please? You haven’t been denied in two centuries.

You sigh as you realize what Lae’zel said was eating at you. What she said hurt your ego, your pride; you hadn’t ever been criticized as a vampire before.

You think, just for a moment, that you should kill her. You should kill Lae’zel for her insolence, and remind her of her place: she, and every other pathetic mortal, was merely cattle for you and your darling.

You notice Astarion is looking at you, extremely amused and aroused by your thinking, and you snap out of it.

“Your beautiful mind devastates me, my love,” Astarion purrs, setting your panties straight and redoing the buttons on your nightgown, preserving your modesty as he signals Ruth and Cynthia to come back in.

Cynthia is practically shaking in her boots when you see her, which is all you really notice before you trance again, lost in a memory of a memory.

After a while, when your underlings have taken care of their own needs and drifted off, Astarion’s light touch brings you back to your waking mind. His fingertips trail along your back, and you sigh, settling into the feeling as tingles permeate your whole body.

I can’t sleep either. His mind, reaching out to tenderly embrace your own, feels safe, like a warm hug.

You know I do not hide you in my shadow, Tav. I shield you with it. He sighs, not really wanting to continue this discussion, but knowing that he must. Let me be frank, darling. You don’t have half of the self control I did when we first met, but you are ten times as old. But I was starved and beaten to obtain it. I don’t want to deny you, but Lae’zel is right.

Astarion props himself up on his elbow, staring down at you as he grasps your jaw in his hand, turning you to meet his gaze. You’ve made your choice. We’re here now, and your ability to control your bloodlust is immensely important.

“Life or death, Tav. And never will you choose death nor death choose you.” His voice is low, merely a whisper. I always feared this would be a problem.

“I’ve spoiled you,” His voice is rough. To your own detriment. His eyes round, he looks away, unable to hold your gaze any longer.

You don’t like what you’re hearing.

Don’t be upset with me , he pleads.

Your face is nearly blank, all for but a tinge between your eyebrows. You open your lips to show the tips of your fangs. I’ll feel however I want.

Astarion scoffs as you turn away from him, arms wrapping around you and pulling you to him, so your back is pressing against his muscled form. He can’t decide between dominating you and telling you what you will do, or being sweet with you. He opts for the former, pressing a kiss to your temple bringing a hand to smooth your hair.

Feel how you must, lover. It won’t stop me from adoring you.

His soft kisses and gentle touches ease you to sleep tonight, despite your disruption; you know you are safe in your beloved’s arms.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x tav #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #lord astarion #astarion romance #astarion fic #Killing Time

127 notes · View notes

valentine-cafe · 1 month ago

Note

i recently re-read the secret admirer with herrera husbands (209) and oh dear gods, it's soo good. and i was wondering if maybe, i could get a continuation of it?<3

also have a bit of my rambling about secret admirer reader, because i got bored at lectures, haha.

(gn reader)

a hypochondriac. that's what your friends and family called you whenever they heard that you were going to the doctor again. any minor problem was a good enough excuse to see dr herrera again, and leave another set of gifts. after some time, lying to the poor janitor was becoming easier and you didn't even have to resort to stealing keys, if only to leave a loving note.

to others, such behaviour would come off as weird. you knew. you oh so greatly knew that, still remembering how that one person you were a secret admirer for reacted way back. with rejection.

and you just didn't want to live through such an experience again, being content with only leaving gifts, never seeing the reaction. did your notes made them happy? did they appreciate another glass jar with eyes or other body part? you knew not. but you were content with it.

of course, you knew that one day, you would be noticed. it was bound to happen. what you didn't expect was that you would be caught so quickly. and just before your visit. . . you just couldn't recall it now.

even if the fear of just another rejection was eating you up.

– sincerely, 🦇anon <3 (sorry for my questionable english, it's like my third language,,)

˖⁺. ﹙ mad doctor yandere x gn reader x mad scientist yandere. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . secret thing !! 🍒 : jìngyí: mad doctor ˖ naga ˖ yandere character ˖ rishen: mad scientist ˖ mantis-moth-spider hybrid ˖ yandere character﹙ verse 209 jìngyí & rishen. ﹚

they discover that you are their new little secret admirer

“my. . . you’re even prettier up close.”

the fingers that trailed along your cheek send sparks through your chest and up your spine that flushes to the office chair. the doctor’s chair. yet standing before you is far from the charming, kind man who has treated you from the fakest of flues to the smallest of rashes.

instead - his husband. with a smile that sends your blood pumping through your veins. from fear? excitement? you’re not sure. all you can do is let out a bit of a squeak as the scientist leans over your form that had been stumbled into the chair so unceremoniously.

a far cry from the tender thumb that strokes along your cheekbone. a smile that outshines sharp eyes that trail you head to toe. a cunning, smooth voice tops it all off. like the cherry on a bloodied cake. soon to be you.

“I hear you have taken quite. . . the liking to my husband.”

“dearest. spare them will you not?”

the deep voice from behind has you shooting a hand to your mouth to contain your squeals. something you barely manage when slithered gold hues peer at you over his husband’s shoulder.

“I told you, they are. . . interesting.”

jìngyí’s sly hands slowly trace up rishen’s sides. caressing up then back down to the swell of his hips. his lips lather on his husband’s neck with a love that makes your heart throb. even more so we his gaze meets your face and you catch the smile against rishen’s divine skin.

a shaky breath. you thank the heavens that jìngyí pulls rishen away - for you are not sure if your poor, smitten heart could behold the scene of them love each other much longer.

“you have been quite the peculiar patient - have you not?” jìngyí click his tongue and takes his lover’s place. leaning over you while rishen circles around behind the chair. his smooth hands trailing down to your shoulders, before tracing up your neck and cupping beneath your chin. thumbs at the corners of your jaw and raising your face to meet the doctor’s properly.

“peculiar indeed. . . and so. . . tempting.”

“I. . . I don’t understand,” you choked. eyes looking up at them brightly. hopefully.

and with both of their hands on you. their lips to your ears - you could practically feel your irises shaping into hearts.

“we’ve decided to keep you. . . can’t let go of such a dedicated pet - now can we?”

33 notes · View notes

zyonsay · 1 year ago

Note

i have a scenario.. imagine max confirming his relationship w his bf, the m!reader, and not only are they been together for years and years, but they also married in secret! i cant stop thinking abt this.

Le mariage MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Artist y/n l/n and Max Verstappen reveal their marriage

Reader: Male

Warnings: Slighttttttt Angst, Max Emilian Verstappen

Now playing: 'Blue Velvet' by Lana del Rey

AN: Hey anon! I paired this request with another request. I hope thats alright! I just thought the two prompts fit together quite well. I hope you enjoy! Who's your favorite artist? Mine is Jan Vermeer <3

(The other request)

The gallery was stunning. You had specifically ordered to have as many plants as possible in it. White and light green, pearlescent fabrics adorned the walls while the soft sunlight flooded the rooms of the art exhibition. The paintings reflected lots of emotion and made the viewers think about the story behind them, even after leaving the gallery.

But there was one very special painting that attracted a lot of attention; It was two men, both in tailored suits, kissing. The little plaque next to the canvas read ‘Our wedding.’ And that’s when two worlds collided. One of the men was obviously identifiable, this was Y/n L/n; A world famous artist, who this exhibition was dedicated to. But as far as the public knew, you were unmarried. Strange.

Then there was another man on the right side of the picture. You had painted beautiful light hues onto the mans face, with the utmost care he was portrayed on the canvas. Art fanatics knew a lot of people, whether it was Claude Monet or Umberto Boccioni. But this person wasn’t part of the art universe. Or at least if you don’t count speed as art in itself.

But only a minute of research would show that this was Max Verstappen – though what does that mean? You two weren’t connected in any way shape or form. Or at least not publicly. What does an esthetic, artful genius have to do with the dominator of the pinnacle of motorsport?

Max was gently holding your waist; this was about to be interesting. Once you both entered the fancy building, you were immediately spotted by Paparazzi. He was THE Max Verstappen, obviously they were keen on snapping a picture of him. What they didn’t expect to see was a man by his side, holding onto him like they were a… couple?

This was like light to a moth; they took as many pictures as their cameras allowed them to take. The media was absolutely going to love this. The event you two were attending had a restricted number of Interviewers allowed, but the ones that were present had already set their eyes on you like eagles.

Quickly hurrying away, you found the table at which Christian and Geri were sitting at. Those two were the only people you’ve trusted to talk about your… relationship. Christian offered Max and yourself an understanding smile while Geri began chatting about how lovely the setup was.

You had to admit, the event was well planned. The food was amazing, the drinks tasted wonderful, and the décor was stunning. But you couldn’t shake that uncomfortable feeling of being watched with every step you take. Max noticed your stressed expression and slid his hand onto your thigh while offering you a slight smile. The atmosphere darkened as the lights slowly dimmed and the stage lit up. A man stood on it, thanking everybody for coming. He then shortly introduced the band that would play a few songs after his speech.

This was the moment you were scared of the most, now you had to participate in Interviews. Max pulled you to his side, giving your hip a gentle squeeze, as if to assure you. The grey-haired interviewer was smiling, if you squinted lightly, he looked like the cheshire cat. “Max Verstappen! Great to see you and your…?”, he glanced at you, still smiling. “My husband.” Now the Interviewer looked startled, his eyes widened at Max’s words while his gaze shifted towards the dutch again. The rumors of your painting had spread into the corners of the press, but not really taken seriously, after all there’s many lunatics in this world. The man’s unsure expression was replaced by a smile again. “Ah yes, the painting.”, he looked back at you.

“Y/n l/n, apparently that painting was made in 2018? Now considering it’s depicting your marriage, did you two in fact get married in 2018 or was it more a… artistic expression?”, he stunk of cigarettes and cheap perfume. You tried masking your disdain with a smile. “We did indeed get married in October 2018. Around the same time i made this painting.”, your tone was polite and lighthearted, like a feather in the wind. The grey-haired interviewer seemed to think for a second before speaking up again. “What was the specific reason for not publicly announcing your spouse?” His ice blue eyes now peered at Max, though your husband seemed unfazed. “The public doesn’t need any information about mine or his private life. This information is not essential for the media.”, Max dismissed, excusing himself and you.

With a sweet smile on his face, he guided you towards the terrace to the side of the building. The night air was fresh and clear. Max leaned his back against the railing, studying your features in the soft moonlight. You took a step forward; both of your noses were almost touching. “We did it.”, you then closed the distance between the two of you and caught your husbands’ lips in a sweet kiss. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

#ZyonsRequests #f1 x male reader #reader insert #male reader insert #male reader #maxie <3 #max verstappen x male reader #f1 x reader #x reader #x male reader #male!reader #male x male #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #gay #f1 fanfic #max verstappen

122 notes · View notes

rzyraffek · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! It’s my birthday today, I was wondering if I could have some birthday headcanons for some slashers? Like what the boys would do on their s/o’s special day. Include your favs, I love them all! (Especially Otis he’s my pookie <3) Ty! 🖤🦇

Yoo happy happy birthday! Somone is a Taurus i see. Sadly I dont write for Otis :( but I can write for other slashers!

Ghostface

Mans will print whole album with their photos and maybe give them something shiny too. Like nice earrings or that necklace s/o was looking for everywhere. But hes top tier stalker so he totapny knows what's important to them so if they have any cool hobbies he will probably buy something from that topic for example you like painting? Boom brand new paints! You enjoy gardening? Yoo new pots just dropped

He wants to take them out to nice restaurant, later maybe watch a movie or something

It doesnt matter how he spends this night as far as s/o is happy with it really

To be honest im 100% sure he will trow a party if s/o is extroverted person! Music food and party hats!

Micheal Myers

This guy will walk up to them while they are calmly sleeping like lil bebi, grab them and drag them to kitchen. "Wha- Micheal it's way to early for dinne- S/o didnt finish cuz they saw huge cake on the table.

It was clearly stolen but untouched and pretty! With strawberries on top!

He didnt say anything he just 👁👁 very much so. Plase say nice things, the nearest cake shop is like 20minutes away he had to work so much for it.

He also will fallow them everywhere, like more than usually??

Jason Voorhees

Men will pick up any flower in 30meter radius and then give them all to them

Also he may catch a frog accidently and decide thats a great gift too

He tries his best to be good boyfriend/husband material🥰

He will try to make is as romantic as possible! Whatever s/o wants will happen today😈

Thomas Hewitt

My dude gonna be in kitchen since 6am cuz the breakfast he made has delightful AND he woke them up by brining it to bed?? Come one Thomas you are spoiling them

He will probably just make a lot of good food for them!

Also he decided to do huge step in their relationship and begged Luda to buy some ALIVE chickens. Now they have baby chimkens to raise on the farm how cute.

Asa Emory

This goofball had difficult time deciding what to give them😰

He wanted to give them some pretty moths or butterflys but he didnt want to make it obvious

But at the same time it would make a great gift? Like its very iconic for Asa to collect bugs so it would make sense to give them to his loved ones? Idk man he just wants them to by happy

He will buy some takeout food and eat it together while watching some animal planet stuff

Also he decided to give them some cute beatles🥰 (if s/o doenst like dead animals he acually bought lil glass box, plants and made acuall lil home for lil beatle buddies)

Sorry if it feels rushed i wanted to hurry up so you can read it on the day of ur b-day🥰

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #micheal myers #micheal myers x reader #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa x reader #the collector x reader #jason vorhees headcanon #jason vorhees imagine #jason vorhees x reader #micheal myers headcanons #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #ghostface x reader #ghostface #scream

203 notes · View notes

kaiju-krew · 1 year ago

Note

I think you mentioned it somewhere else, but Leo x Godzilla sound so cute! Mostly because how mu h more battle inclined Leo is as opose to Mothra's more calm and support demenor(she can still fight, but we know she is wonderful support). Can you imagine Godzilla watching this rainbow little guy just beat the hell out of others and winning? All I can kinda see is like "yeah, that's my husband, alright", I dunno, it's just such a fun little thing :3 thank you for putting it into my head

i don't think i've mentioned this as a possible ship? x') tis a cute idea, but leo in my head is very much linked as Mothra's Kid so i dont think i'd personally end up shippin it,,, godspeed tho!! little hubbies are great

but speaking of the rainbow mans i've actually been gathering ref for finally working on my design for him, im still deciding on how he'd fit into my au though. ik he's canonically mothra's bio kid but...... that doesn't fit super well into my hc abt how mothra's reincarnation works

i sorta dig the idea of her finding a dormant divine moth egg in hollow earth and using her Super Cool Special Moth Powers to restart it's development, and eventually help raise him up, thus sort of making her his adoptive mum?? idk what i'll decide on yet buuuut yes im hopeful i can finally include lil leo man in my stuff comin up /o/

#and yes i have a good idea of who imma ship him with and no it will not be a 'straight' pairing #he is the Gay Son he's made of rainbows idk what to tell you #kai talks #mothra leo

25 notes · View notes

oh-no-the-hyperfixations · 9 months ago

Text

hi y’all you remember those tma flight rising fandragons i posted a few months ago? Well theres more- and i need your help to pick out the final fandragon for the original series ^^

Mild spoilers ahead

Nikola- i skried out them Ages ago and i had been searching for their specific color way for Months and months. I’m Very pleased with their genes and outfit. I thought jester gave a wonderful circus tent look, seeing them without their outfit is also quite neat because the Poison gene makes them look like they are smiling a big empty grin. I gave them soap as their final gene because it reminded me of the hard plastic they’re made of And it made them look like they have a clown nose

Jude perry- I wanted her to reference a moth to a flame and burning from the inside out. I tried some different colors and genes but eventually settled on this (i think she matches my agnes really well)

Andre ramos (homophobic vase guy)- i wanted him to look like shattered pottery as if he tried to smash that vase to get his husband back. Just because i thought it’d be fun visually<3 he’s such a fun character i just needed to have one of my own

Breekon and hope- i really wish there were burlier twin headed dragons but i’ll just have to cope with what aberrations give me</3 i gave him the primary gene wasp to look like a mannequin and patchwork to match nikola and the dark circus theme. Waiting for this color way took Ages too

Jordan Kennedy (exterminator ant guy)- he’s been one of my favorite reoccurring characters in the series i really really hope he shows up in protocol. It took like- 6 separate dragons and 2 months of breeding to get his specific colors with the plague eye type.

Georgie Barker- i thought she deserved some mice and her cat the admiral sitting on her shoulder i’m so happy with her colors and her outfit she Looks like a silly little ghost hunting podcaster. I gave her ghost as a tertiary gene to reference her affiliations with the end

Adelard dekker- i’m still working on his outfit (i just cant find anything i think looks good both with his colors and salvaging his “coated in concrete” look but i figured i’d show him off anyways cause he’s Severely under appreciated.

Now heres where i need your help- what should be the final character in my original series to fill in this missing spot? I wont be doing anything from protocol yet because i want to see more of the series play out before i make them fandragons (i might make an exception for mr bozo tho- bro has a cannon design which should be pretty easy to make)

#tma #the magnus archives #flight rising #fandragons #nikola orsinov #jude perry #tma andre ramos #homophobic vase guy #breekon and hope #jordan kennedy #georgie barker #adelard dekker

15 notes · View notes

jestersdlc · 5 months ago

Note

PLEASE tell me more about your little insect guys (gn) i love them dearly 🙏🙏🙏 /nf

this is about that thing. about the asks about the ocs. by the way :3

-🐜 (person you definitely do not know /silly)

I can tell you more about their project AND them all as a whole! :D

Congratulations, you have triggered an unskippable cutscene dearest friend :3 /silly

Because it will no doubt be a long ramble it will be under the cut along with some lil doods of the few drawings I have of the beans in question (I need to redo them and make proper designs for.....most of them still but theres some! And a spider one, so....) Cw insect and spider character along with WALL of text.

My lil insect beans are for a lil project I call 'Butterflies and Monarchs'

Which is....as you can assume about butterflies (and other insects) and BOTH meanings of the word monarchs as in European royal hierarchy and monarch butterflies :3

I have a lil summary for it here (A benefit of an old film class even if I plan to either write it like a novel or make it a graphic novel once I dont suffer doing backgrounds....as much)

A duchess to be, discontented with her duty to marry her betrothed. Getting off on the wrong foot with her betrothed she meets a mystery man at a masquerade ball and slowly becomes closer to both trying to unravel who they really are and her feelings to decide if she’ll follow her heart or her responsibilities before it's too late.

The project leans into history for 1700's europe (specifically france but with ties to england and italy as well for history and aesthetics) along with heavy flower motifs, formal prose and COLOR is a big thing! :D (.....boy doesn't this sound familiar Ahem....Pink ....niche special interests, themes and motifs will be used again and again)

But the main character is a hybrid moth/butterfly Marquise Montella Noelle Dubois from the Marigold kingdom

(These are....very old drawings but you get an idea from them....) Montella is based on a Monarch butterfly and a white satin moth, her wings are very muted during the day but glow in the pattern of a monarchs at night or in dim/dark settings ^-^

Her kingdom is themed after marigolds, old england(mixed with france), and orange, gold and white colors. She also has a few additional monikers she goes by (tho its very blatanly stated its still her....unlike with others under pseudonyms :3)

....while she's the main character I don't have much to say about her (the side characters take the show at times, she just TECHNICALLY moves the plot along with her sappy attempts at romance and diplomatics with her betrothed) but she's meant to be very sweet (if oblivious....) character ^-^

And while I sadly don't have drawings for them I want to mention Montella's parents (who are barely seen but....I love the Earl he's a joy)

Duchess Genevieve Madeleine Dubois, a satin moth and main ruler of the Marigold kingdom (YES its equally ruled by both her and her husband, but she has the higher status and thus is mentioned first) She's a very posh lady, formal and polite, not the most outwardly affectionate (unlike her husband) (I imagine she's very fluffy and keeps her fluff kept silky smooth and neat at all times)

and Earl Montgomery Emmet Dubois a very exuberant (and frankly obnoxious) monarch butterfly, he's loud and jovial and very different from his wife XD (He's wonderful even if he's not seen much, I actually have a chunk of a draft for the first....chapterish of the script for the project if you'd want to see that, it's rough and from like....2 years ago but you get a better feel for the Montella, her parents, Anton and his courtship partner Whilemena :3)

Moving on! We of course have (possibly your favorite) Anton Alfred McKnight the golden ant and personal guard to Montella (who often escapes him much to his nerves dismay) who is sent off to the Cornflower kingdom with her!

And his courtship partner Wilhemena Hayden Elffire who is a sweet little firefly gal, she's a tad forgetful but makes up for it in spirit! She's Montella's personal maid/handmaiden in the Marigold kingdom (she unfortunately was NOT sent with as the Cornflower kingdom has someone to assist Montella while she stayed there) but her and Anton are a sweet lil background couple (She's strong enough to bowl over Anton it's hilarious to see.)

Moving on to the Cornflower kingdom! With main themes being old england/italy, Cornflowers, and the colors black, blue and silver!

We have Montella's betrothed! Marqui Dominic Azure D'Angeli He is a hybrid of a Black rustic moth and a Blue morpho butterfly. He has plain black wings like his father.

Duke Valentine Cosimo D’Angeli. Dominics father, a black rustic moth. A very diplomatic and courteous moth.

Lady Verity Bernadette D’Angeli. A blue morpho butterfly, she is very passive, she's sweet but a touch meek (she was once but a commoner)

Count Atticus Victor Dior. A blue morpho butterfly, and Dominic's elder half brother from Lady Verity's past marriage. (He is also a very big jerk, high and mighty yet never to be next in line because HE IS A JERK (that's literally the only reason, he wasn't chosen because he's a jerk XD)) He's very antagonistic to Montella

Lady Jezebel Ernestine Bellarosa, a frequent companion to Atticus. She's a blue wasp and from a seperate kingdom originally but moved here in her youth (I FORGET ITS NAME BUT ITS PURPLE THEMED) she's initially rather antagonistic as well (Atticus is a TERRIBLE influence...) but she warms up to Montella's kindness (and may not be as straight as she thought she was-)

MOVING ON! We have the mysterious mystery mothman (or he LOOKS like a moth....who's to say :3) that is Sir Azure with his glowing blue wings and ever present mask, a quick companion to Montella, of course SOME people know who he is, but he's a mystery to Montella and supposed to be to the reader (I do love me some mystery after all :3)

Pierre Armand Du’Bleu the head royal guard! And the beloved blue mantis man, cool and collected and unnervingly never seems to blink, only stare passively, constantly. And the one to constantly get on Ant's nerves <3

(I like this better then the ref dood of him so this one it is! :3)

Mrs. Lavinia Estelle Bazil, personaly maid/handmaiden of Montella while she stays in the cornflower kingdom. A blue bumblebee! She's quite the hardworker and always to the point (She also has a partner, but they are only ever mentioned to be a green scarab and a carpenter :3)

AND last but not leastttttttt Horatio André Clément (beloved bean....) personal butler/handservant to Dominic, he's a lil blue peacock spider and is intersex! (debating giving him he/they pronouns since he originally was just he/him...or they/he TBD!!)

I love Horatio, he's a lil silent sweetheart, very shy and very quiet.

Anddddd that's all summarizing everyone and the actual story summary without going toooooo indepth

Unskippable cutscene complete! /silly

#jcposts #jcrambles #jesteranswers #friend ask #longggggg ramble about my project :3 #butterflies and monarchs #I FORGOT CW TAGS ACK #cw insects #cw spiders #drawings but still!!!!

6 notes · View notes

noroi1000 · 2 years ago

Note

May I request something which is sort of a scenario as a part of the the recent mafia gojo fic since as it has arranged marriage if i were to be expanding this request it would also be an arranged marriage too so it would be better if connected to the mafia gojo oneshot. So basically the scenario could be in their wedding life when they didn't have kids and it's basically reader's ability to be playful and cheerful when she wants to which is a loveable traits of hers and here in this scenario reader n gojo r making fun of the people they hate in the mafia world while reading is dramatically impersonating them perfectly making both gojo n reader laugh when gojo guesses the right person who reader is impersonating which is just many of the reasons gojo gave up his playboy life because of falling deeply in love with her even though she might not reciprocate his love but certainly treats him well. This could be a scenario when they're on their luxurious honeymoon trip but again not an necessary

( Sorry if this wasn't clear as english is not my native language )

I don't love him, but I want to be with him 3

"Haha! And then – And then Gakuganji always makes silly faces!” He said laughing.

He suddenly grabbed his cheeks, pulling them down slightly, simulating that he had wrinkles.

And he also stretched his jaw forward to lisp and change his voice.

You laughed when you heard his stories about the people who attended their meetings.

This Gakuganji is an elder from another mafia.

He is like an antiquated tree, but the older he gets, the more he needs.

Especially when it comes to their contract with the Gojo family.

The old man was in several other mafias for many years. But they were all the strongest.

You were laughing at him because every time he sees someone from Gojo, he looks like he suddenly got rabies.

You've seen him once or twice, and you confirm what your husband says.

This man looks like a bulldog that's already wrinkled too much. He gets a sudden rage when he sees Satoru and wants to attack. Whenever she yells at him, it sounds like he's barking.

You watched as Satoru twisted his face with his fingers, and started mimicking what the old man said.

"Young man.... Respect your elders.... You damn brat.... The youth of today have no respect at all... Gojo Satoru, don't be a child and stop smiling!" he said, faking his voice, only to lie down on the couch later and laugh with a little red on his cheeks from the heat inside the room.

When your laughter died down, you wanted to ask him something.

Have you ever wondered why his head is so big...

"Satoru, I have a question." You said before giggling softly. "Why does his head look like a melon that is slowly molding?"

He gave you a questioning look before bursting out laughing, imagining a melon with a gray beard and those brows like moths.

"Don't you think he looks a bit like a moth?" he asked hugging a pillow to his chest.

You corrected yourself as you sat in the chair next to him.

"Moth?" You grunted suddenly imagining a moth yelling at Satoru.

You started laughing.

He, when he imagined a moth in his clothes, also began to laugh. A hairy insect that holds a wooden cane.

Laughing, he shifted to the side, and suddenly fell off the couch, hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

He uttered a soft "uh" as he fell, but he continued to laugh as the image of the Gakuganji moth still lingered in his mind.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you imagined his face falling off his head, from old age.

"What this time? Tell me!" he moaned with a red face.

"After all, he looks like his face has started to roll down from old age..." you muttered.

"You're right! Go down!" He laughed, laying on his back. "He's going to be walking on his own beard soon! I'm waiting for him to ride bike and he'll get caught in the chain of his bike now!"

You had enough, you kept laughing.

Your faces were red when you couldn't breathe properly and your faces were already aching from smiling.

You got down from your chair wanting to get a drink because laughing really made you thirsty for water.

Walking forward, you caught your foot on the mafia boss - your husband - lying on the floor.

Falling onto his chest, you laughed, not even bothering to get down.

You do not care.

You can rest like this...

Lying on top of him, you listened to his breathing and his soft laugh. Also laughing all the time.

You sat down suddenly on his stomach and smiled as you dug your finger into his chest.

"Guess who I'm pretending to be, okay?" You grunted as you waited for his response.

"Only if I get a reward~." He gave you a smile.

"What's that?" You asked slightly serious, but there was still a smile on your lips.

"Kiss~."

You looked at him questioningly.

"Fine. You'll get a kiss." you put your finger on his cheek. "Then guess who it is."

Suddenly you took an empty glass from the table and pretended to drink something.

"Nanami?" he asked seeing you pretending.

You can pretend to drink tea.

You shook your head.

You pushed the glass away and brought it closer again, tapping the edge of your hand lightly on the neck. Hoping it will look like you're showing you're drinking alcohol.

"Hmm... Shoko?" he asked, placing two fingers on his chin.

You shook your head again.

You took the glass and pretended to drink very greedily.

"Oh! That Zenin Drunker!" he chuckled pointing at you.

"You guessed it." You smiled. "So your reward."

You leaned in and placed your lips on his soft cheek.

At the same time, he grabbed your arms and flipped you onto your side so you were underneath him.

As he grabbed your thighs, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

He connected your lips in a long kiss.

You didn't mind him touching you.

You've been in this forced marriage for a few months now, and there's a lot more going on between you than just hugging and kissing.

You put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away so you could catch your breath.

Your relationship as lovers allows you to do that.

"I remember what happened on our honeymoon." he said with a smile as he gently placed his stomach and hips against your body. Still keeping part of his body on the forearms that were on either side of your head.

"I didn't want it."

"But you rode with me anyway." replied. "And it was on this island where we were, I really realizing that you are the woman I'm starting to fall in love with."

You looked at him, slightly disbelieving.

You can't get used to him saying that...

He still does it, even if it would hurt anyone to know that someone they love doesn't feel the same way.

It would be really painful. But he doesn't show it.

Because it's enough for him that you like him. That you treat him as a close person without love.

That you're with him, and you're happy about it.

He knew that now, after these few months with him, you don't want to change that.

Your behavior and all you made him feel that you are important to him. Even if you don't love him, he will still love you.

Every time he looked into your eyes, he felt like he was drowning in it. He was drowning in feeling.

It was the first love he had.

Even if there was something before you, it wasn't the same.

He's never been married before. He didn't know what it was like.

And now that he's bound to you somehow forever, he felt different.

"But I... I'm sorry..." you muttered.

"I do not mind. You will still be with me. After all, you're happy." he said with a smile. "We're together."

"I like being with you."

He was glad to hear that.

Even if you didn't love him, you treated him the way a wife treats her husband.

He gave up his life for you.

You placed your hands on his cheeks, stroking them gently.

You want to do something to make your happiness last much longer.

Something so that your happiness does not disappear.

You want to be with him all the time.

To keep your life like this, you can do anything to just be with it longer.

And suddenly he called back.

"Have you ever thought about children?"

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo jjk #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru fluff

100 notes · View notes