#the animation of his face is truly remarkable

[creamflix]

happiness is a butterfly — sukuna x female reader   content warnings: fluff, wholesome crack, arranged marriage, yapper reader, implied heinen!era sukuna   — masterlist here ☆

it was a rather silly sight, truly. a queen pacing her chambers, speaking aloud to herself as if carrying on a conversation with another. 

but it wasn’t uncommon for you, especially on days when even the estate’s servants — those with whom you’d built a steady rapport — weren’t in a position to entertain your musings.

you often spoke of the little things that caught your interest: the peculiar patterns on a foreign tapestry that had arrived earlier in the week, the way the evening sun cast golden streaks across the estate’s garden, or a particularly intriguing passage you’d read about distant lands and their customs. then, of course, there were your personal passions — musings on literature, art, or even the intricacies of floral arrangements you wished to try your hand at.

tonight was no different. pacing back and forth across the polished floor of your chambers, you animatedly discussed the potential arrangement of a rose and lavender bouquet, occasionally breaking into thoughts on how such combinations symbolized both passion and serenity.

your voice was lively, your gestures animated as you imagined the possibilities, oblivious to the passage of time. 

it wasn’t until the faint creak of the door broke your reverie that you froze mid-sentence.

turning sharply, your heart leapt into your throat when you saw sukuna standing in the doorway. his crimson gaze swept the room before landing on you, a single brow arched in mild curiosity.

“who is it you’re speaking to?” he asked, his tone neutral yet laced with an edge of command.

heat rushed to your face, mortification settling in as you clasped your hands together, suddenly acutely aware of how unqueenly your actions had been. “no one, my lord,” you said hurriedly, bowing your head in shame. “just... my own thoughts.”

he stepped further into the room, the door closing with a soft thud behind him. you braced yourself for some scolding remark about dignity and decorum, but instead, he simply observed you in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“you seemed quite invested in the subject,” he said finally, moving toward the edge of the chamber where his robes awaited removal.

“it was nothing of importance,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

he scoffed softly, unfastening the heavy belt at his waist. “then why did you speak of it with such passion?”

you hesitated, unsure if his words were meant to mock or if he truly sought an answer. when his gaze flicked to you, sharper and more expectant now, you relented. “i didn’t think anyone would hear me. it is... embarrassing, my lord, to prattle on about trivial matters aloud.”

“trivial?” his tone hardened, and he set the belt aside with deliberate care. “if it was so trivial, would it compel you to pace about like a court philosopher delivering some grand discourse?”

your lips parted in protest, but no words came. he sighed, turning back to you fully now, his arms crossing over his chest.

“continue,” he said simply.

your brow furrowed in confusion. “my lord?”

“whatever it was you were discussing — continue. i’m listening,” he clarified, already reaching to undo the clasps of his outer robe.

“but...” you faltered, glancing down at your hands. “it’s hardly fitting of a queen to...”

“enough,” he interrupted, his voice firm but lacking any true menace. “do you think i’d demand such a thing if i didn’t intend to listen?”

the room was quiet save for the faint rustle of fabric as he removed his robe, setting it aside with practiced precision. his gaze returned to you, expectant but patient.

tentatively, you began to speak again, your words slower now, less animated than before. but as you continued, weaving through the intricate details of floral arrangements and their symbolic meanings, his steady presence eased your nerves.

sukuna said little, merely nodding here and there or humming faintly in acknowledgment. his sharp gaze, however, remained fixed on you, betraying a level of attention you hadn’t anticipated.

when he finally moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his tunic undone and his posture more relaxed, he gestured for you to come closer.

“you’ve more knowledge on the matter than i gave you credit for,” he remarked, his tone devoid of sarcasm. “and here i thought your talents were limited to courtly affairs.”

your cheeks burned, unsure whether to take his words as praise or something else entirely.

“does it amuse you, my lord?” you asked cautiously, your hands clasping together once more.

his gaze softened, though his expression remained impassive. “amuse? no. intrigue? perhaps. you’ve a mind for such things — a pity you keep it to yourself.”

his words struck something within you, a mixture of validation and guilt swirling in your chest. you bowed your head again, this time not in shame but in gratitude. “thank you, my lord.”

“enough of that,” he said gruffly, leaning back against the bedpost. “if you have more to say, then say it. and next time you find yourself pacing this chamber, don’t wait for me to step in.”

a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, and as you continued speaking, sukuna closed his eyes — not in disinterest, but in quiet appreciation of the sound of your voice filling the room.

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[ladyzirkonia]

For @lightwise 💋

[acid-ixx]

do i look like him?

— just another series concept. please note that talia sexually assaulting bruce is retconned in whatever portrayal i have of her. i will not tolerate any racist or sexist remarks towards her character for a mischaracterized version of her, written by some gooner.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

i don't know if anybody would be interested in a certain premise i'm planning. taylor's song, "like him" is resonating off of my body, and i've a draft written inspired off of the song featuring yandere batfam x damian's twin! reader x yandere! al ghul family.

wherein instead of being neglected, you're treated like royalty by your own family. your twin is subjected to the cruelty of being raised as an assassin. you're met with scarred hands, nicked back, and calloused skin every time he comes back from your shared room after another particularly harsh training. yet every time you worry for your older twin, he'd silence you with the same bloodied hands that handled bodies like ragdolls, gently like it has never killed, with hushed promises whispered by your ear that "this is necessary for your protection, akhi/akhti."

at first you'd be convinced that this family lifestyle is normal. your mother is doting, she is kind, she is where you learned the word mercy; unlike the fierce image she displays in public. you're often spoiled rotten with her favorite shades of clothes, and her teachings emanate within you a deep sense of loving for animals. you never truly see her cruelty for other humans, as she often makes you sit by her lap upon a seat you call a throne when you were all but a mere five year old, playing with your hair, muttering affirmations and cradling you on her chest every time you ponder too deeply about the word, 'father'.

a word you'd read from those fairytales by the library, a word you craved to know, a word forbidden to be stated by everybody within your castle-like home.

she'll call upon your brother every time your curiosity gets the best of you, and the duo would try their best to sway your attention away with playtime. either it'd be stories, or damian showing you new tricks he'd learn from masters long overthrown by your twin, or it would be as simple as talia dragging both her beloved children to the huge kitchen, demanding the head chefs to bake you and your brother's favorite dessert (a little moment to spoil your brother after a hard-earned day of training, even if damian isn't always fond of sweet confectionaries; your grin would always tempt him to take a bite of your food if it means spending a day being himself).

it seems even damian plays along with the sick fantasy of not acknowledging the possibility of an alive father figure to you. not like you'd be aware of it, too caught up with your grandfather teaching you about rare species' on the verge of extinction, his (rarely) soft gaze fixed on the way your small body would gently pat the face of his wolf companion, or your brother constantly vying for you, his younger twin's, attention, eliminating all possible rivals who could potentially act as your future playmate that only he has the privilege for, or how your mother seeks you, her youngest baby, out, for a day of rest after another mission, doting smooches on your face, her lipstick smearing all over the soft chub of your cheeks, dismissing your pouts

a perfect family, with not much left to desire for your part.

so why is it that talia would often hear damian complain about your sudden fixation about a father figure? you'd mumble, something about one of your servants who mentioned visiting her father for vacation, a man who works as a merchant for his family; you asked them what your father's job was, what his name was, "why isn't he here at the family dinner?"

you asked, with wide, pitiful eyes, a feature long foreign for hardened assassins, but associated only with you. a quality nobody in the league dares to criticize; your gentleness the only thing keeping their leaders sane, keeping most servants alive as you find precious each and every single living being; not exclusive to animals or plants, but to humans too.

you're the league's only hope for reprieve, for softness in the moments of emboldened duties and priorities. you're the fingers that caress on calloused skin and the lips that kiss bloody scars. the hearth that warms even the coldest of hearts.

which was why nobody attempted to answer you, no matter how much it breaks your heart; because nobody wanted to ruin your soft and kind heart, or see the sullen droop in your eyes, or red, sniffling nose.

yet once ra's heard the confession of you being aware of what a father is like through the mouth of your servant, he'd immediately demanded another assassin to eliminate whoever dared mentioned such preposterous concepts to his grandchild.

throughout their rage, throughout damian nuzzling his head on the crown of your, muttering that whatever his baby sibling is sputtering is nonsensical, mere fantasy, arms encasing your entire body. he'd cradle you, run his hands against your hair even with furrowed, always angered brows; all the same questions lingered in the back of their minds:

is your current family not enough? why is it that the more you grow, the more you... wear the same expression of stubbornness, a quality your mother is sure you've adopted from you... father.

she may not be the best mother, taking both you and damian away from the arms of bruce wayne after she had learned about her pregnancy after a night spent together with the man, but she did it for the sake of her children; for your future, too.

bruce wayne will not be a good influence to you. if he tries so much to subject you into becoming another one of his robins, destroying your innocence, your perception of the world into a bleak portrayal of lackluster colors— ra's wouldn't hesitate to destroy the entirety of bruce's home.

and the manor is nothing! nothing, mind you, compared to the castle you call your home. only you deserve the richest of the rich, the shiniest jewels and the best treatment in the world. what more can gotham offer you? what more, if not for broken bones and bruised knees?

and so they settled upon ruining your perception of your father, with no known face to be plastered upon your memory, no known source, or picture— at such an early age.

if you yearn so much for a father, why not paint the image as dark as the cowl he wears?

why don't they feed you lies about him never wanting you and your twin in the first place? you'll be given opportunities to call an empty line, hoping your father would pick up, would respond and tell you that he's coming for you. they'll give you time to write letters, even if it takes your crummy fingers hours to finish a dedicated letter for your father, after years of being unable to meet him; it causes all the more ache in your mother's chest, witnessing her beloved youngest stay up late, whispering whimsical wishes about how excited you are to read your father's reply to you.

all your mother could do was kiss your forehead as she sat by your side, and rub your delicate cheeks with her fingers, mumbling that her baby should sleep now.

your mother never lies to you, no?

at least, not outright in your face.

damian, hates seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, but he's the very same twin who comforts you every damn time you fall to your knees after discovering that the letters you sent to your father's locations were long since unanswered — even if they're all hidden away in a vault of every possession you thought you lost. he'll pick you up with his trained body, and you'll melt even further into his form, shivering at the prospect that you're an unwanted child in the face of your father.

soon.

soon, you'll learn to despise bruce with every being of your soul, and learn to only reserve the association of warmth for your only family. you'll be the spoiled royal of the al ghul, and you'll come to find yourself grateful that you're raised without his presence, deluded into thinking that he abandoned you, that he never truly cared in the first place.

you love your family, you hate bruce wayne.

he is not family.

he is not your father, he lost that status long ago right after you thought he'd ignore all your calls, your messages, letters, gifts, every and any signal sent to the man you once called your father right after learning his name. he made you hope, he left the light flicker once flickering within you now blown away, leaving only an empty husk of your wanting to meet your father.

you hate bruce, you hate him so fucking much, you're ashamed that he's even your father in the first place— even if he's the very same man working tirelessly, day and night, to save you, once he caught news of what his children looks like, and locks eyes with your hopeful ones, a rare sight amongst the imagery of assassin. he plans to retrieve you, to save you, from the castle you call your home; truly what you call your cage.

little did you know that you are more like your father than you are with what you call your family.

— heavily inspired by @anxiousnerdwritings portrayal of twin!reader.

a/n: i honestly don't know half of what i wrote. i'm out of my mind, and i'm honestly not confident with the outcome of this concept. if people do like it (leave comments, or inputs, or whatsoever) i might post a chapter about this (since i do have one written in my drafts a week or two ago). if not, i'm dropping this and leaving it as a concept mostly, a one-time thing at best. so if anybody does like this, please do tell me. i do have a lot in store for this concept, specifically the way manipulation works within this family convincing you the other side is evil; i've been through this once w/ my family actually ngl, so writing this was a bit fun.

[comfortless]

Pygmalion!König and Galatea!Reader………. 😖 What do you think?

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, light angst. self harm, implied animal death (not done by König or reader), fluff, König is horrible and by that i mean yes— he fucks the statue, outercourse, unprotected piv, implied mutual loss of virginity.

notes: lovely Salome did something similar to this already! 💖 however. yes. i am thinking about it and well���. take this out of my hands.

König has never had anything that could properly be called his own.

He walks the city entirely alone, no wife at his side to paw at his chest and bless him with adoring glances. His only steadfast companions are the grit slipping into his sandals as he walks, head held high even as the shadow of a boy begging on his knees for any semblance of love eternally tethers itself to him.

A glance lingering too long at the appeal of a soft face, the brush of his calloused fingertips against a pornai’s bare stomach before deciding that no, he didn’t want something so simple.

He merely slips a few apologetic drachma into her waiting palm and sets her free of him.

A warm body would never be enough, it was the heart that he starved for. To bed some poor creature that would never properly love him would be worse than the greatest of tortures in his mind.

It wasn’t a simple affair to find a lady to marry, either. Foreign soldier that he was, he had no right to some politician’s pretty daughter, court her properly and sweep her away to a bed that’s only ever been a harbor for lonely, twisted bitterness and blood.

Most turned away the moment he passed by: frightened glances that rightfully accused him of immense violence, shushed whispers of “barbarian” passed from soft lips before the sand beneath their fretful feet shifted and their shapes had disappeared from view entirely.

The ceaseless loneliness carves a burning ache somewhere within the expanse of his chest, something he knew he would never truly be free of, not until it rotted it’s way out of him in full.

It only seemed to quiet in moments he shed blood for this foreign country; burying his sword in some poor man’s gut was the closest he could get to sheathing a part of himself inside another, to touching a heart, seeing lips part in a gasp as their world becomes entirely consumed by him.

Just as the many days prior to this one, he grips the hilt of his blade, letting the metal dig into his palm, his knuckles bone white, as he makes his way back to the empty shack deemed a home.

Streets quiet and crowds disperse with each of his silent footfalls— not one of these smaller men or fearful women dares to look him in the eye. The only thing that does, the only eyes that ever lock to his, are those peering out from the harbor.

The figurehead guarding her expertly crafted ship has always called to him.

Her beauty was remarkable, from the curl of her hair to the patient look in her eyes. Her hands clasped before her breasts in silent prayer as she looms over the darkened depths of the sea beyond the soil, calling him to board, to venture away from this place that his left him in such an acute state of misery.

He swears he hears it then, a mere whisper on the wind, urging him in featherlight comfort to lie down his sword and take up the chisel and hammer.

It’s only when he pauses to look the gentle face of the figurehead over once more that he finds himself resolute in what he must do.

— — —

When he took to crafting her it was born of this desperation; hazy moonbeams cutting through the shade of his shack for hours before he would reluctantly pull away from a beautifully carved hand or the soft but stiff curve of a neck to retire to the straw-stuffed mattress at the corner of the room.

She was beautiful, a representation of all of the sweet, effeminate softness he would marvel at from afar. The swell of plush breasts, curved hips and silken thighs, eternally parted by her stance, the sweet face that could make any man feel entirely weak…

His hands tremble when they rest upon her form, unsure of just how such splendor could have come from his own coarse palms.

Weeks of scarce sleep only seemed to further his devoted madness. Though the warring dulled the ache and sated his blade, the longing seemed to only grow far more prevalent.

He yearned when they were apart, dreamt of coming home to her less lifeless and only demure smiles and hurried kisses the moment he would return to her. He would always come back.

Upon her completion, he took to courting her proper. Though she could not in any way reciprocate or reject his advances, he believed wholeheartedly that the cushiony love that had blossomed within his aching, neglected heart must be mutual.

Gifts were strewn at her cold feet, some gilded and shimmery, some soft with an abundance of colorful petals: offerings for a silent goddess that kept a part of his soul hidden away deep inside the pristine marble that she was carved from.

When he wraps her neck in a necklace with a sparkling beryl amulet attached, his hand does drift to the swell of her breast beneath the woolen chiton.

It’s hard and cold, but his groping becomes as incessant as the kisses he presses to her jaw, to her cold lips, tongue leaving a warm path down to her neck before he finds himself committed to having her.

He’s careful when he disrobes her, slowly revealing the mounds and curves and softness of her imitation of human flesh.

Dropping to his knees, his tongue laps at the ivory depiction of smooth lower lips, spearing between each silken ridge until he imagines her eyes squeezing shut as she cries out for him, rolling her perfectly sculpted hips to coat his tongue in waves of vulgar honey.

He moans into her cunt, drools and sucks at the mimicry for as long as it takes to find her thighs drenched in his saliva and his cock aching horribly between his thighs.

He rises to slot himself between her legs, pushing forward with a keening whine that dissipates into a relieved gasp. The feel of her pressed against him; the smooth ridges of her makeshift flesh running over his stiff, leaking cock is akin to finding divinity.

His hands rove over her breasts, thumbs pressed against her eternally pebbled nipples as he kisses her, each sloppy and filled with years of need.

It is pure bliss, almost as though he is burying himself to his hilt inside of her pulsing cunt.

He would fuck her better than any man— not a single other could match the strength of his affections nor his hapless willingness to please.

If he could have carved a proper hole between her legs, not a drop of his seed would be wasted on thin sheets or spilled into his palm, she would be filled, womb brimming until some loving god or goddess blessed her with child.

His pace quickens to the point of frantic, feverish hands drifting to her hips as he mouths at her breasts instead, hissing out praises for how good she feels against him, how his heart bleeds to feel her nearer.

There is so much heat between her thighs now he could swear it burns like the cold mist of the Underworld itself; the fuzzy heat pools from his navel and further as his muscles begin to tense and leave his thoughts a haze and his lips parted in a silent, worshipping cry.

It’s only when he envisions her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, back arching as she drags her nails over his shoulders and whines through her own damnation that his cock throbs in repetition as his eyes roll back. His heavy sack arrives at her mound as his seed spills from him, cascading down to paint the thighs of his silent lover, smeared pearly and glistening over her labia as he rubs his cockhead against her with an agonized groan.

His forehead finds her shoulder, warm breath replacing the coldness of her skin as he wraps his arms around her perpetually beckoning form, lovingly trailing kisses from her clavicle to her ear where he whispers a breathless, “I love you.”

It’s only after he’s finished wiping away the evidence of depravity from her that he feels the first wave of shame, sharp and feathering from his chest that leaves his jaw set and throat tight.

What lowly man envies the warmth others experience with far less gratitude? König has never seen himself as pathetic, no matter how commonly he’s been sent off and kicked like a stray.

She’s the only thing that’s brought him any sort solace in a world that’s left him starved, but also a cruel mirror casting a reflection of his own nature.

Pulling the thin blanket from his mattress, the statue is soon swallowed up in her entirety, all guilt and pity-drawing attestation neatly hidden away behind rippling sable fabric; her form silent and waiting as it would remain eternally.

None of this is enough.

———

König has never found himself fond of prayer, never felt the need to partake in the festivals and ceremonies. His luck in battle was only a mere measure of skill, of a body so brutal and immense that most trembled before him, not born of any benevolent gift. There was no need to kneel, to bestow offerings upon the altars. If the people turned away from him, then surely any god or goddess would be even more inclined to do so.

Only… his mindless wandering has led him here, to Aphrodite’s altar whilst the festival of Aphrodisia plays on everywhere around him. The people invoke and dance, abundant offerings brought forth as the scent of timber burning and bold floral incense floods his senses. Blood and flowers already riddle the stone, a stark vibrancy of color that lures him closer, commands him to kneel.

He doesn’t have a thing to offer to the goddess, not so much as a petal, but if the pull were not just the first signs of a withering mind…

The glimpse of hope he’s offered is not taken for granted.

Thick fingers curl over his sharpened blade, dragging his palm against the steel until it stings almost sweetly. If she could accept the blood of a goat then surely, his could be no more polluted. Beads of crimson revel and dance along his forearm before dropping down onto the stone.

And he does pray.

It is not a vulnerable prayer, one that bares him in full, but only a wish— a longing for warmth, to have her share his breath, to admonish his shame and live free with the one thing that has never given him anything but safe harbor.

He unveils her when he returns, knowing that this is the closest he will ever come to love.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against her cheek, leaves a kiss there before dragging himself away to disrobe and pull himself back into bed.

When the weariness takes him, his sleep in dreamless and calm. If any blessing were bestowed upon him at all, the surely that would have been more than enough. A night without turning, without visions of a darkened grave devoid of anything to haunt him.

He only begins to stir when the mattress dips at his side, a soft palm pressed to his chest, stroking along the loose curls of auburn there.

“König..,” a voice calls out, more gentle than any he’s ever heard.

He wakes to find her, leaning over him with the sweetest glimmer in her eyes, wide and fascinated. Her touches only trail further up to his face as he tries to silence the rapid beating of his heart, the stinging born of adoration in his own pale blue eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispers, moving to curl at his side, her hands cradling either side of his jaw.

König is utterly stifled and so terribly smitten, the most he can manage is a quiet huff of breath as he rolls onto his side to take this sweet, unreal woman into his arms. Dreaming or waking, it mattered not, if he were given only the night or a lifetime with this beautiful little creature it’s still more than he has ever had.

His head dips to press a chaste kiss to her soft lips, only finding a warmth there that had never been the many times he had kissed her prior. His palm runs along her side, feeling ever perfect dip and curve, all heated and so very alive.

She only falls apart beneath his touch, already quivering and softly gasping even from such a gentle kiss. The thought that this little dove has been longing for him just as much makes his heart bleed. He whispers his apologies against her temple, for his frustrations, for his doubt in their love, for all of the temptations and hatred that plagued his mind before she came to be.

She only answers with eager touches, grasping at him as she murmurs her own perceived shortcomings. If only she knew that she could never do wrong, that she was what’s saved him and that nothing could shatter that.

When her tongue slips past his lips and his breath grows heavy, there’s little else he can concentrate on than the throbbing pillar between his legs, the scent of her around him, under him when he guides her onto her back.

Thanking the goddess could wait, he’s far too focused on the one that’s willingly climbed into his bed.

One hand splays at her side forcing him upright as the other trails over her breasts, a satisfied groan leaves him as he feels her softness, fighting back to urge to squeeze and pinch until she cries in pleasure, howling out like those at the altar he had encountered only earlier.

A nipple is snared between his thumb and index, twisted gently beneath each pad, her back arches…The wetness of the dew slicked flower between her legs brushes against him and he whines like a starved dog finally presented with the aroma of a meal.

His hand falls from her breast to her hip, encouraging her to buck the source of her own need against him— take anything she needed. If she were to pull a blade and carve a hole in his own chest he would only let her, the taste of this heated bliss and the look that she gives him, enchanted and curious, is more than he has ever deserved.

Only does he pause when he parts her thighs, and her stare becomes more curious, searching him for any reason as to why he would even stop.

“We have done this before. Are you afraid now?”

No, he wants to tell her, that before was not the full extent of it. Instead he only laughs, peeling away just enough to fit his head between her legs, mouth only a small measure from her weeping cunt.

“I want to taste you.”

With a whispered plea from her lips, he raises her hips, mouthing and suckling at her until she shivers and sings against the cushions. He groans against her when she does come, her hips stuttering in his grasp as she drives further against him.

He hisses in his mother tongue when he pushes the backs of her thighs up, grinds his leaking tip against her until he swears he really will fall into madness if he doesn’t fuck into her immediately.

The ache in his chest that his been so prevalent for so long is finally smothered out the very moment she tugs him down by his shoulders and pulls him into a frenzied kiss. She encourages him in each lapse, murmurs how long that she’s waited, how starved she’s been for him while hidden away.

He nearly sobs when his tip snags against her entrance, so divinely wet, pulsing and begging just as he is. When he penetrates her, the breath is punched from his lungs, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her within reach as she wraps around his shaft as though her cunt was made for him.

His little dove only covers him in kisses in turn as he mumbles obscenities into her flesh, revelling in her tightness, in the way her body fits so perfectly against his, mutually carved by the gods to fulfill one another. His professions of love come in abundance as she fits her legs over his narrow hips, crying out from his sudden depth as his cock jumps against a spot that leaves her writhing.

Though it’s almost painful to keep himself restrained, he tries his best not to rut into her like a mindless animal, even when he feels her constrict around him as another orgasm leaves her cunt drooling and pulsing. He doesn’t give her time to recover, however… forced to lie in wait for so long, it’s nearly taken out on her as he spears into her as she moans and babbles her praises against his chest.

He’s lost to the empyrean as his muscles finally pull taut, crying as he buries his head into her shoulder and pumps his come into her, shaking as he wraps her up in his arms and clutches her close as he melts against her.

Spent and sated, König holds her tightly against him as they pant and share sweet words, secrets and giggles from her that make every moment of dolor before this night seem insignificant.

She slots her fingers between his own, compliments his damaged face and the worships his body with brushes of her lips and tongue just as he does her. He does not leave her empty, warms her heart with words he’s kept trapped in his throat for months, guides her gently as she perches over him to descend back onto his cock, his thumb stroking her stomach as he tells her over and again just how much he loves her, compared his feelings to that of Orpheus, how he would suffer anything all for her.

A pleading “Stay” is uttered as she falls limp against him, stroking along her back as they come down for the second time that night.

The last thing that leaves her lips before sleep takes her is the most saccharine she’s said that night, a simple, “I love you.”

It’s the only thing that he’s ever truly longed for.

———

They marry after the voyage back to his homeland, his head clouded during the entire trip of seeing her swell with his child in time, a home built with her in mind for the two of them, of lying flowers at her feet just as he had before.

His blade lies neglected in the little glade they had chosen, taking up only a hammer and his own hands as he works tirelessly to provide for his wife, the dove that looks at him as though he were not a dog but a king.

When their home is built after many weeks of tedious work during day and bedding her beneath the stars each night, König only then thinks to pray his thanks to the foreign goddess who gifted his salvation to him with little more than a scrape from his palm. All the while his true goddess leans over him to tickle his cheek with flowers he had plucked for her only moments prior, covering him in a fragrance so sweet it only seemed befitting of herself.

She giggles and sighs when he pulls her down into the grass to roll over her, blanket her in kisses and gentle bites to her throat.

The beryl amulet around her neck catches the glimmer of the sun above as she sifts her fingers through his hair and tells him that the gods already knew he was grateful, that his worship of her was already telling enough.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

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🦇Masterlist🦇

🔮Pile 1: The Hanged man, 3 of cups and queen of Wands.

Hi pile 1! You have fairy energy for sure. Your mysticism and uniqueness make you stand out from the crowd, and your innovative ideas are a reflection of your innate creativity. You likely possess several artistic talents, especially in the realm of design, which could open many doors for you if you decide to put them into practice. The way you see the world is unique, and that translates into your work.

Additionally, you seem to have a special connection with nature and animals. You may feel a deep affinity for them, and receive messages or signals through their presence. This particular group has remarkable psychic sensitivity, allowing them to perceive things that others cannot. Your intuition is strong, and that helps you understand the world in a deeper, more meaningful way. Your beauty is not only reflected in your appearance, but also in your way of being and how you interact with others. There is no denying that you possess an enchanting and pure beauty, which is truly captivating pile 1!

🔮Song:

🌌Pile 2: The Moon, Queen of Cups and 6 of Swords.

Hi pile 2! You have Siren energy. You have a fascinating personality and an air of mystery surrounding you, which can make some people feel a little intimidated by the intensity of your presence. Still, your ability to connect with people is remarkable; you seem to know exactly how to approach them and make them feel comfortable, which is a gift that can transform not only your life, but also the lives of those around you. There is an almost magical component to your being that could spark your interest in the esoteric, such as witchcraft or similar practices. You may have a natural inclination towards these areas, which would allow you to explore and develop skills that others might consider unusual. This interest could open doors to new experiences and knowledge, taking you on a journey of self-discovery that would enrich your life in unexpected ways.

Your uniqueness is what truly sets you apart; you know how to win the hearts of those around you with that very special energy that you emanate. It's as if your essence has a magnetism that attracts people, making them feel intrigued and captivated at the same time.

🌌Song:

🩻Pile 3: Queen of Wands, The Emperor and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! You have Goddess energy. You have a brilliant mind and a free spirit that sets you apart from the rest. You likely have great aspirations and are determined to achieve them, regardless of the opinions of those around you. That very autonomous energy that you radiate not only attracts people to you, but also arouses admiration in many. Some may even feel a little envious of the way you present yourself to the world. Your ability to dream big and your courage to show it are qualities that drive you towards success. You don't stop at obstacles, and your determination is something that really stands out. Plus, you have a natural charisma that allows you to connect with others, regardless of their background or personality. That ability to relate to people is a gift that opens many doors for you and helps you build meaningful relationships.

Your authenticity and your way of being make those around you feel attracted to you. You shine not only for your achievements, but also for the way you face life.

🩻Song:

🔮🦇Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated🦇🔮

[perlelune]

Dollhouse | Rafe Cameron | ii.

The moment your mother marries Ward Cameron should have been the moment your life changes for the better. A fresh start out of the Cut for the both of you. And for the first seven years of living with the Camerons, everything truly is perfect.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Pogue!Reader, Stepcest, Secret Relationship, Manipulation, Jealousy, Drugs, Drinking,

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You let your fingers wander over the edge of the car window, a big smile spread across your face. The gentle breeze flutters across your skin and birdsong fills your ears. You bask in the warmth of the sun and the comfortable feeling sitting inside your chest. The morning was spent visiting the university you’ll be joining in the coming fall. You were given a tour of campus and all the historical buildings you’ll get to wander through soon. It filled you with anticipation, getting that brief glimpse into college life. You’ve been in Outer Banks your whole life and while it’s pretty much a paradise, you’re looking forward to experiencing something new and exciting.

Dad insisted on driving you since you don’t have your license yet. The two of you constantly got wrapped in animated chatter on the way to and from campus. While it’s hard for Ward to watch one of his baby birds leave the nest, you appreciate how supportive he’s been overall. After long hours coaxing him with Mom of course. Dad was skeptical at first. He even suggested you take a gap year to mull it over, like Sarah did. But you and Sarah are like the sun and moon. She’d be the sun of course. While your big sister is content running off with the Pogues on wild adventures and setting aside college for now, you can’t picture yourself doing that. You’re a Cameron, but you’re not Sarah Cameron. With her sweet disposition and golden mane, your sister could probably get away with murder by batting her lashes and flashing her signature sunny grin. Things are different for you. Very different. You haven’t forgotten where you come from, much as everyone in the family pretends you’re just as quintessentially Kook as the rest of them. 

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you pivot to Ward.

“Thanks for driving me, dad.”

He beams, his blue gaze drifting away from the road as it lands on you.

“No problem, sweetheart. It’s an amazing school. Great program. Campus looks good too. I know you’ll fit right in.”

A wave of warmth blows through you. “Thanks.”

Sighing, you turn to the epitome of gloom and petulance in the backseat. His arms are folded over his broad chest, his irate blue eyes glued to the window. Your brother’s been cranky all morning. Any trivial inquiry or mundane remark set him off. He barely uttered a word to Dad and graced you with nothing but stubborn silence. It’s blatant he isn’t handling the prospect of your imminent absence well. The silence concerns you a little though. Rafe isn’t one to chew his words or swallow them. So whatever resentment he harbors about your decision to go away for college must run deep. It casts a veil of despondency upon an otherwise wonderful day. 

Of all people, you’d expect your big brother to support you the most. 

His sour-faced demeanor never relents, even when Ward stops the car in front of Tannyhill. Dad sighs as he parks the truck. He’s already lectured Rafe twice on the way back. You note the disappointment etched on his face, the way he squares his shoulders and readies him to march towards his son and lash out at him again. You put your hand on his shoulder and shake your head. The last thing you need is your brother and father at each other’s throat again. It’d be nice to linger in the exhilaration the campus left you with a little longer. 

“It’s fine, dad. Let me talk to him,” your say. 

Dad’s shoulders sag. He yields, heading inside the house and leaving you with Rafe. You lean next to him on the truck, head tilted in concern. 

“Hey…You haven’t said a word since we came back. What did you think?” 

When he fails to reply, his face taut, your frustration swells. “You’re the one who insisted on coming.”

It’s when he snaps, the vein in his forehead pulsing. He swivels to you. 

“I just don’t understand why you have to go to a school so far from us, y’know? A five hour drive, really?”

Your brows crumple to a frown.

“Rafe…”

He cuts you off with a mirthless laugh, annoyance flashing in his blue eyes. “And the way you kept gushing about college parties and college boys…” His jaw ticks. “I just don’t like it.” 

Rafe pauses, licking his lips and humming as if lost in the depths of reflection. “I think…”

When he trails off, you urge him to go on, impatience clear in your tone, “What do you think?”

He shrugs before casually stating, “I think you’re gonna land yourself into trouble like the airhead that you are and come crawling back home.”

Your face comes ablaze at his words. You punch his shoulders as tears rush to your eyes.

“You can be such a jerk sometimes.”

You stomp away from him, ire radiating from you in waves. He catches up to you with ease. An apology creeps on his face, his fingers clasping around your arm.

“Wait, princess.” 

He impedes your path, forcing you to halt in your tracks. He puts a hand on his chest, his expression earnest. 

“Look I’m just trying to look out for my little sister here, okay?” A hint of sadness seeps through his tone. “I thought you at least appreciated that.”

Your shoulders slump. 

“I do, Rafe, but…I’ll be gone soon. I need you to accept it.”

“I just think it’s too soon.”

“Rafe, I’ll visit. So often that you guys will get sick of me,” you say, your tone reassuring.

The suggestion does little to assuage him, his eyes rolling in annoyance. 

“You could take a gap year like Dad said. It wouldn’t be a big deal. You’re a Cameron.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You’re keenly aware Rafe will abhor the words bubbling in your throat before they even leave your mouth.

“Well, not exactly...”

He snickers. “It’s those Pogues…they got in your head, didn’t they?”

Your brows furrow. In your brother’s eyes, everything’s always a Pogues’ fault. He’s never been too fond of the fact that you still hang out on that side of the island sometimes. The phrase ‘You’re a Kook now princess, act like it.’ has left his mouth a numberless amount of times in the past seven years whenever he found you drifting a little too far from the family.

“What? It’s got nothing to do with my friends, Rafe,” you retaliate. 

Your gazes clash, a silent war of unwavering wills as your brother looms over you. He works his jaw and unleashes a long exhale. 

“So you’re just gonna leave us? It’s final?”

Reluctance drips from your clipped tone. “Yeah, it’s final.”

“I see.”

He gives a sluggish nod of acknowledgement before rushing inside the house.

You trail behind him, panic fluttering through your chest.

“Rafe…”

His back remains turned. Your stomach sinks, his staunch ignorance driving a blade through your heart. The last thing you want is to be away from Rafe, away from your family. But college matters to you. Why can’t he see that? 

Mom stands by the counter, dumbfounded by Rafe’s furious stride up the stairs. 

“What’s gotten into him?”

A deep sigh ripples through your lips as you meet Mom’s concerned stare. “You know Rafe…”

You turn to her.

“You wanted to talk to me, mom?”

She beams at you. You straighten your spine. 

Mom texted you on the way back. She mentioned Sarah would be here too, causing your suspicions to hit a peak.

Nearly every talk with Mom devolved into a firm reminder to behave in a manner befitting a Cameron, befitting Ward Cameron’s daughter. Your mother’s foot never eased off your neck in the last few years. 

Nothing besides perfection is allowed.

Perfect grades. Perfect smile. Perfect behavior. Not a single blight or misstep shall ruin the blended nuclear family image Mom and Ward strive to project. Dad might be more subtle about it, but you know his expectations of you align with Mom’s. 

Whenever Sarah slackens, the burden passes on to you. You’re supposed to set an example for Willa and Wheezie to follow.

Mom glances between you and Sarah, the latter already sitting on a stool by the counter. It’s clear your sister would rather be anywhere but here. Likely hanging out with John B or some other fun thing. “To both of you, actually.”

You and Sarah exchange a look, one you have countless times before. The quiet acceptance that you’re both about to be lectured by Alice Cameron.

Resigned, you plop down in the stool next to Sarah’s. 

Excitement oozes off Mom’s voice as she starts speaking. 

“You remember when I told you about the Calliopean Society Debutante Ball?”

Sarah’s lips twitch as she tamps down a grin. “You mean the one you’ve been massively subtle about?”

It’s true. For months, Mom has dropped heavy hints regarding her desire to see both you and Sarah become debs. Even amongst Kooks, being picked to represent the institution is seen as the highest honor. Only a handful of young women from prestigious families in North Carolina are picked, ones whose families have made significant contributions to the county. 

A series of events antecedes the ball, including but not limited to Midsummers, a variety of tea parties and galas. The whole thing is archaic at best and cringeworthy at worst. 

You’ve tried to get Mom to relinquish the idea of you joining it. But she’s been relentless. The symbol of status it epitomizes isn’t something she’ll let go off so easily. 

Not when she’s tried to make everyone on Figure Eight forget where she comes from. Mom would do anything to bury any hint of her past as a Pogue.

You bump Sarah’s elbow, berating her with a frown, “Sarah.”

She chuckles and stands a bit straighter. 

Mom sighs at her antics, her forehead creasing.

“Girls. I need you to focus.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Sorry, Alice,” Sarah echoes.

Mom marks a dramatic pause, causing dread to tickle your insides. If she’s this excited, it’s almost a given that you won’t be.

Indeed, her next words confirm your inkling.

“Well, I managed to slip in both of your names in the short list while attending the Midsummer’s committee,” she says.

You wince. “Mom…why would you do that?”

Her elation doesn’t waver. “They’ve never had a young woman like you in their ranks and they’re trying to be more open-minded this year.”

“Mom, this is old-fashioned and gross. The girls are presented like broodmares to be sold.”

Her brows knit. “That is not what this is. Being chosen is an honor.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and you purse your lips. Mom squints at you, folding her arms.

“I want you two to participate in all the events leading up to it.”

Sarah blinks in disbelief. “Come again?”

“Isn’t Midsummer enough?” you refute. 

It’s bad enough you’re not given much of a choice in attending the stuffy event. The fact that Mom wants you and Sarah to take it one step further is wild.

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your place, sweetie?” she laments, looking straight at you. “It’ll be an opportunity to bond with young ladies your age.”

This doesn’t stir you. You doubt you have much in common with the kind of girls picked out as debutantes. This was probably the same crowd you’ve exerted great effort in avoiding at the Kook school. 

“Kie will be there too, but only if you go,” you specify.

This catches your interest, mostly because of how absurd that statement is. You’re pretty sure Kie would likely chop off an arm before agreeing to be a debutante, even if you did it too.

Sarah’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“Kie? No way, you’re making this up.”

A mischievous smile unfurls on Mom’s lips.

“Well, it wasn’t easy to get her to agree but her father threatened to stop paying for her unlimited data plan.”

Oh so it’s like that? Kie’s parents resorted to blackmail. Makes sense. You just can’t picture your rebellious friend agreeing to this without an incentive. You surmise threatening to cut off her only means of constant communication with the Pogues might sway her mind a bit. 

“Yeah that…tracks.”

“Can you do it, please?”

Your shoulders sag. “Mom, I really wished you stopped trying to impress those women. You do realize they’ll always look at us the same way, no matter what we do.”

Mom’s face dims at your words. An instant wave of guilt fills you. You should have kept your mouth shut. She tosses her hands in the air.

“Fine. I never ask you girls for anything, but okay.” She starts frantically cleaning the kitchen, loud clangs echoing as she grabs random pots and pans from the oven and cabinets. “When I was your age…” You suppress an eye roll. Here we go. You and Sarah trade a knowing glance. Anytime she starts a sentence that way, you know you’re doomed. “I’d have killed to get an opportunity like this...” 

Mom continues rambling about how privileged and spoiled you and Sarah are, how she was never given those kinds of chances. She mentions her rough upbringing and hammers in the sacrifices she made to raise you. She reminds Sarah all the times she showed up for her and that she loves her the same way a mother would. You spot the exact moment your sister breaks. By the end, the guilt both Sarah and you feel is palpable, its weight clogging the air. 

“Ugh…Fine, we’ll do it,” Sarah relents.

Mom’s sour face immediately shifts to a triumphant expression.

As the evening rolls around, the sky shifting to duskier hues, an unexpected presence slips through your bedroom door. 

You sit up, your pink headphones tumbling down to your neck. 

“Rafe!” you exclaim, eyes widening in astonishment.

A lopsided smirk unfolds on his face at your reaction. He slowly closes the door and strolls to your bed. The mattress bounces when Rafe tosses himself on it. He drags his fingers along your sheets for a while, the golden family ring on his finger glimmering dully. You wait anxiously with your legs crossed.

After what seems an eternity, blue eyes swing upward as he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier,” he blurts out. He licks his lips and holds your gaze, his fingers wandering to your knee. Rafe’s deep voice lowers, oozing sadness. “I just know everyone in this house will drive me crazy if you’re not there.”

“There’s always Sarah.”

That draws a burst of laughter from him. He shakes his head.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Your face breaks out in a grin. Throughout the years, it’s always staggered you how different the dynamic between you and Rafe is different from his relationship with Sarah. Everything’s a competition for Rafe when it comes to Sarah, starting with the ceaseless quest for Dad’s approval. Meanwhile, since that day at the wedding, Rafe has never failed to be there for you. He’s been the best big brother, attentive and kind. While on the exterior he could be a jackass to everyone, including your Pogue friends, he’s never been that way with you. You could talk to him about your problems, however trivial they may be. He’s the one who made you feel most welcome at Tannyhill, impugning every presumption you harbored about what having Rafe Cameron as your brother would be like. And now you can’t picture your life without Rafe in it. 

“It’ll be fine. We’ll text. I’ll call you every week.”

“Won’t be the same.”

You take a deep breath.

“For the record, I’ll miss you too. A lot.”

“You better.”

You chuckle.

“Hey, I never gave you your birthday gift…” Rafe says, fishing for something in his back pocket. A sly smirk tugs his lips. “I wanted to do something a little different this year.” You’re filled with shock when he produces a little bag full of white powder. 

You blink rapidly as he holds it up. You’ve seen him take some at parties, sell it to his guests. Once or twice, you got curious and asked to try. He vehemently turned you down, insisting he’s not about to let his little sister get fucked up…despite spending the whole night getting fucked up himself.

“Really?”

Rafe’s smirk broadens. “Really.”

Excitement flushes through you. You can’t deny you’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.

“You like…never let me try before.”

He laughs, shifting closer to you. 

“Because I was trying to keep my sweet little sister pure. Can you blame me, princess?” he says, fingertips tracing your knee. 

You swallow thickly, your face heating when he places the little pouch in your hand.

“I actually have no idea how to…”

“I’ll show you, of course. It’s my job as your big brother to teach you everything.” His voice dips to a velvety bass as your eyes lock. “So let me pop your cherry, princess.”

When you stare at him, slack-jawed, Rafe snorts. 

“It’s just a phrase, relax.”

Amusement dances in his blue eyes at your clueless expression. He grabs a paper from his pocket and begins rolling it. 

“Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He gently swipes the pouch and takes your hand, opening your palm to pour just a tiny amount of the white powder in the middle. “Let’s just keep this a secret between us, okay?” His eyes twinkle. “I don’t want Alice to think I’m… corrupting you or something.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

august 2024 episode of octavinelle + 4koma update

You know the drill by now!

Spoilers for the 4koma and the Episode of Octavinelle chapter 12 below the cut. As a reminder, the Episode of Savanaclaw won’t be updating again until winter.

🫵 THERE THEY ARE…

THE SMOOTH CRIMINALS…

The poses in this opening page are so good; Leona sat all lax like a boss who knows who’s large and in charge, Ruggie leaning against the chair and swinging the keys to the vault around on one finger… The posing perfectly captures their personalities and roles in relationship to one another.

Once again, Azul makes many fantastically desperate and despair-filled expressions this installment 😭

Falling to his knees???? Laying flat on the floor??? Man is UNMATCHED when it comes to theatrics.

I like this shot of Azul and Leona’s gazes lining up; it really helps give you the sense of two rivals sizing each other up.

(Side note: you can also tell how much painstaking detail the artists went through to include their eye makeup in these close-ups. Hats off to them for the extra effort, it looks great!)

… WHY DiD THEY hAvFTA mAkE HIM So smUGHERE 💀

damn i wish i was that stack of contracts

… I mean what

sorry

Sorry

SORRY

I got distracted there, what were we talking about again????

AYO they always make Leona casting King’s Roar look so darn cool in the manga 😭

My favorite panel in this sequence has to be the one with the text bubbles. He looks so nonchalant and a little stern as he speaks the chant… The shadows on his face add a lot to the atmosphere of it!

This chapter is the part where Leona gets to sanding Azul’s hard work away! Look at how beautifully drawn Azul’s reaction is ✨

The particle-y effect of the contracts melting into sand is nice 😌 It feeds Azul’s tears… Tasty meal…

MOU YADA IN MANGA FORM IS PEAK

lmao Azul for real threw a tantrum, flailing his limbs and everything 🤡 Love that even Leona and Ruggie have NO idea how they should respond to this.

Oh no, here comes the OB…

The anguish Azul’s experiencing is really coming through. He’s sweating so much and his entire face is so. Er… for lack of a better term, twisted.

I think seeing the blot leaking out from each of them helps to illustrate that they’re truly being overwhelmed and consumed by their own inner darkness. It’s sad to see 😔

We cut back to Yuuta and co. squaring off against the twins!

I wanted to point out and comment on these parts with Jack. He’s not a character that I usually pay much attention to, but I gotta commend him for fighting back so hard and trying to shield the picture even when he’s clearly got no chance of winning. Jack bearing his fangs at Floyd with pupils contracted… 🫶 Very good and loyal pupper! I get the Jack appeal now, lol

I LOVE THIS

It reminds me of the similar Azul-Leona framing earlier in the chapter, though with a different context. I like that this shows how the twins are in sync and coming to the same terrible conclusion.

Not long after, they rush to Azul’s side—which makes me think that these two worry for his wellbeing 😭 THEY DONmT SAY IT OUT LOUD BUT THEY CARE

Oh yeah, here it comes… OB Azul has arrived!! 👀

I MEAN YEAH it’s not good for his health, but I’m so hyped for the battle and flashbacks to his childhood! Baby!Azul shall NOT escape our sight…

The 4koma this month centers on Jack, Vargas, and others (Jade, Kalim, Deuce) talking about using transformation magic for racing.

dhejeveiwhwuow I would say more, but I actually didn’t find this 4koma that remarkable. It’s a generally the boys chatting about animals and their different activities they excel at.

[mashiraostail]

can you do HCs of mundane turn ons for the main companions ? PLEASE <3

These are fun

omg maybe my Wyll bias is showing his is way longer. He just eats like he eats everyyyy time.

Slight nsfw under the cut :3 maybe more than slight

Shadowheart: Watching your hands, especially if you've already slept together or started a relationship. She looovvess your hands, she loves to watch you fiddle with things, thumbing at the pages of a book, picking locks, or spinning a small blade between your hands. She could probably explain it in depth if she wanted to, but she was a lady of simple wants and desires and so she doesn't feel the need. She'll fantasize about your nimble, practiced hands all night if you've managed a particularly impressive slight of hand. She's already attracted to the rest of you, so imagining how skilled you are is the final nail in the coffin for her. She'd want to feel your hands in her hair, grazing down her back, tracing the divot of her spine. She wonders how quickly you could undress her, how quickly you could undo her with just your hands.

Astarion: He enjoys seeing you with Scratch and the owl bear, and Tara and all the other furry (or hairless feline) friends you make on your adventure. He isn't sure why. It makes him feel warm, and after decades of chasing burning hot desire a pleasant warmth is a thousand times more satisfying. Though he'll groan and complain at your acts of benevolence to other people, he can't help but feel a soft spot form for animals. He didn't think he'd enjoy seeing someone be so kind and warm. He does. There are moments where he's watching you befriend yet another stray, scratching behind it's ears or under it's chin where he almost longs to switch places. He'll be the first to admit he's lead such a terrible life, a truly loving and gentle touch has been far and few in between. Seeing you care for the four legged friends you've made makes him feel hopeful, he wonders if you would care for him like this. If you would extend such a gracious and gentle touch to him. He feels warm at the thought of it. Soft lips and a feather light touch tracing down his chest, over his stomach. Would you smile and coo praise at him the same way you did with the cub? Would you call him wonderful and brilliant too? Would you mean it?

Gale: Obviously we know he enjoys watching you in a fight, he's said so himself. So I'll do you one better, the inverse. Seeing you freshly cleaned, sparkling with the water of whatever river or lake you'd jumped into drives him just as mad, or maybe it's your wet hair. It doesn't come from the typical carnal sort of desire to make you dirty and sweaty again, no, that's not Gale's style. He just wants to see, all of it, every inch of your perfect, clean skin. He wants to feel your wet hair against his palms, or huddled into the crook of his neck while he touches you all over. The smell of your soap and the way your wet skin looks even more supple than when it's dry is so painfully inviting for him. Some may say that Gale just loves you, dirty, clean, dry, wet, and so on..maybe that is the case. Something about your still slightly damp, freshly cleaned skin is especially intoxicating. He really does just want to touch and kiss, not to sully or dirty just to love and enjoy. He doesn't even know that body worship is a kink that's just how he acts.

Lae'zel: Being an asshole Bickering. At first it actually pisses her off, your snide remarks, the way you brush her off or roll your eyes should make her angry at you, she should hit you, instead she just wants to pounce on you, she wants to wipe that smug look off your face...with her face...while you're both naked. It pisses her off, it makes her stumble over her words, forget herself. She can hardly look at you when she insults you. If you laugh at her, she'll be white knuckling through the end of your argument, then she'll go rub off in private. Unless you notice, and once you get to know her better it probably isn't too hard to see. Turn your rude bickering into coy teasing, egg her on and on until she simply can't help but give into herself ('what are you gonna do about it?' 'ok, make me.' 'I'd like to see you try' etc...) It'll be an angry sort of lay but not a bad one at all, and once you're bent at her will she'll ease up on you, once you've been together a while she may even apologize for being rough with you. No promises.

Wyll: He loooveees when you're sleepy. Propped up trying to read a book but you're eyelids are slipping closed every few seconds? Trying to wash up but having to scrub your face just to get through the routine? Sleepy giggles at Gale's decidedly unfunny joke? He can't help but just imagine you cuddling up to him, asking for sleepy kisses, trying to sneak cold hands into the hem of his shirt to rest on his warm belly. He can't help it, you're so intoxicatingly lovely when you're tired like this and though he feels terribly un-gentlemanly he can't deny the fire in his stomach when you yawn and say his name "Oh Wyll, " you snuffle with the yawn and look at him with tired eyes, "I might need to call it a night." He may have to bite back some strangled noise of arousal, especially if you're already trying to cuddle up with him. He can't help but let his mind wander to how you'd be so sleepy and coy with him had he the mind to take you some place private. It would be a bold faced lie if he said he didn't think about settling down with you, wrapping you up from behind, letting his hands roam freely, and in your tired state he doubts you'd be very hard to work up. You'd be too sleepy to resist all your desires, he thinks about the way you'd release all your inhibitions, he wonders where you would kiss him, you'd indulge him all your secrets biting and licking him in all the places you'd been secretly admiring. He wouldn't complain, he burned to know it all actually, in a sort of selfish way. What were you normally too shy to tell him? What drove you mad for him? He wouldn't mind your sleepy groping, he'd happily let you bite and moan and prod at him. You'd guide his hands to where you wanted them and lazily take what you desired and he would just be so happy to take care of you. You would have a sleepy sort of romp he'd set the pace, huddle you close, kiss you and praise you and it would all be lovely and drowsing and put you both to a great nights rest together.

Karlach: The back of your neck (especially if you have long hair that usually covers it). If she ever tells you and you laugh she'll tell you to fuck right off about it. She can't explain it, watching you pull your hair up, or guide it over your shoulder is entrancing enough but then there it is. The nape of your neck, the short hairs there, your skin looks soo smooth and perfect, she wants to kiss it, or maybe bite it, depending on how frustrated she's feeling. She'll think about pressing her thumbs into it and watch all the tension in your shoulders melt away. She's always favored coming up from behind, she's always pulling your hair over your shoulder, or offering to tie it up for you to 'get it out of your face!'. It's a self serving gesture at it's core. She'll think about kissing it, feeling it flush under her hands and lips. When you do finally get together she'll enjoy seeing the way the nape of your neck glistens with sweat while your together, she thinks it's a great place to have a hold of you for a multitude of reasons.

Halsin: He likes seeing you exert yourself, maybe it's some kind of primal instinct or something, or maybe he just likes to know how far he'll be able to push you later that night. Either way, he can't help it, he thinks it may get better as you grow closer but it only grows worse. Blood and grime caked to your skin don't deter him at all, and if we were drunk enough he'd admit the smell of your sweat, and the salty taste of it on your skin when he kissed or licked or bit you drove him mad. He struggles to be subtle when he watches you after a fight or during a long up hill hike. The rise and fall of your chest makes something in him tighten, the glisten of sweat on your skin, seeing your hair stick to your forehead, the flush of your cheeks and the way your lips part to take in deeper breaths....it all drives him a bit mad. He'll quell his desire to ambush you and drag you off to a secluded forest alcove with a myriad of debauched daydreams, all of them making his stomach stir. First he'll wonder if he could get you into a similarly winded state, if he could make sweat roll down your back, if you would melt for him like you melted at the unrelenting heat of the sun. How would his name sound as a desperate gasp for air? How hot would your cheeks feel under his fingertips when he takes you by the chin and squeezes your face in his hand? The way your lips open to take in deep and thankful breaths only makes him want to completely ravish your mouth. He thinks about what it would take for him to exhaust you so much the weight of own head would be too heavy and he'd have to keep you up with a fistful of your hair.

[mytheoristavenue]

CSM Aki Hayakawa x Reader 🍋 - Attitude Adjustment

Kinktober 2024 IV

Snowballing + Hair pulling

Summary: Aki has warned you, his new partner not to nag him countless times. You just don't listen, do you?

Warnings: Snowballing, cum eating, hair pulling, oral (m!receiving), fem!reader, brat taming, degradation, praise, spoilers for anime/vol. 3 manga, brat!reader

"Do you have to smoke every five minutes?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes and fanning the smoke away from your face. "I can feel my lungs deteriorating just walking beside you."

"Then walk in front of me." Aki simply replied, taking a long drag off his cigarette and purposefully exhaling from the corner of his mouth. You coughed dramatically in response, batting the air.

"So you can stare at my ass all day? As if!" You retorted with a pout.

"I'm not that kinda guy," He reminded you sternly, finishing off his smoke and dropping the butt, stepping on it as he went.

"All guys are that kinda guy," You sneered, stepping in front of him despite your protests. "No matter how hard they try to hide it."

You and Aki had only worked together for a few weeks, following the simultaneous deaths of your partners. Needless to say, you vexed one another greatly. You were both the 'glass half empty' type, and your late partners were the opposite, making for great dynamics, but this- this was never going to work, you were simply too alike. However, you differed in one way: Aki tended to keep most of his grievances to himself while you were never shy about voicing them. Every single minute one.

You nagged him for smoking, his recklessness, his gloomy demeanor, everything. At every turn, he was met with your attitude, making him all the more stormy. He'd appealed to Makima for a new partner multiple times but she wouldn't budge. He was truly stuck with you.

"God, you know coffee is allowed to taste good, right?" Here you were with your snide remarks again, bringing him coffee like you did every morning. "I'll never understand why you like plain black coffee."

"I don't know, at least it's now weighed down with sugar like that crap you drink." He scoffed, taking it from you as he exited his apartment with you in tow.

"At least I enjoy the crap I put in my body." You rolled your eyes. Aki smirked at you- for possibly the first time- over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I bet you do." He laughed dryly. "Bet you love putting crap in your body, huh?"

Your eyes widened and your entire face reddened, up to the tips of your ears. "S-Shut up! Are you calling me a whore?!" Well, that was new. In all the time he'd known you, he'd never seen you get flustered like this.

"I didn't say that," He deadpanned before smirking again, pausing, causing you to collide with his back. "But if the shoe fits..."

"W-Whatever, like I care what you think!" You pouted, backing away a few steps as he turned to face you.

"Oh, I think you might," He teased. "Why else would your face be so red, hmm?"

You steeled yourself, unused to him bullying you in such a way, before smirking deviously up at him. "I'm not worried, I've heard about your reputation." You snickered, feeling as if you were gaining the upper hand. Little did you know, your next words would seal your fate. "Even if you did have an effect on me, you wouldn't know what to do with me."

Aki's expression darkened, taking the insult as a challenge. His hand found your wrist as he chuckled. "You think so?"

Your victorious demanor fell when you saw his shift but you doubled down. "Yeah, I do." Before you knew it, he had stormed off passed you, back towards his apartment building, dragging you along behind him. The heat in your cheeks returned and you limply followed, understanding that challenging him was a mistake. "H-Hey, wait, where are we going?" You asked meekly, despite already knowing.

"Back to my place." He said sternly. "To test out those bold claims of yours." You gulped as you crossed the threshold to his building, immediately being pulled to the elevator. Once inside, he eagerly pressed the button to prematurely close the doors, followed by his floor number.

"A-Aki, I was joking..." You muttered nervously. "B-Besides, we have to get to work, we're gonna be late."

"We got stuck in traffic." He answered firmly. "Right?" He glanced at you with a sharp pointed stare. You got the hint.

"R-Right."

The remaining minute of the elevator ride felt like it lasted an hour, tension in the air thick enough to choke on. "Aki, I-"

"Don't." He cut you off, and you obeyed instantly, which made him giddy on the inside. "It's obvious that something has to give before we can get along and I know just the thing to clear the air."

You swallowed as the doors opened and he took your wrist again, speed walking down the hall. He wasted no time in unlocking the door and pulling you inside. "W-What's that?" You asked bravely, stepping inside.

He shut and locked the door behind you with a disturbingly calm smile before approaching. "You just need an attitude adjustment."

-----

Everything had moved so quickly that you could hardly grasp the chain of events. One moment, you were pushed against his front door, whimpering softly as his lips trailed down your throat. The next you were sat on the floor, sitting between his knees on his balcony, obediently slobbering in his lap. His fingers languidly raked through your hair, balling into a fist any time you made the smallest mistake or noise. His other hand held a lit cigeratte to his lips.

Suddenly, his grip on your scalp tightened and he yanked your head up with a peaceful smile. "Hey," He murmured, as if he didn't already have your full attention. "Try it." He insisted, pressing his cigarette to your lips. You looked up at him pleadingly, eyes wet, drool and pre coating your mouth.

Hesitantly, you parted your lips, earning a small smile from him. "Atta girl, breathe in." You did as he instructed, inhaling the smoke deeply before choking on it at couching roughly. "It's okay, baby, everyone coughs the first time." He soothed, releasing your hair to pet it softly. "There, now that's you've smoked, you're not gonna bitch at me for doing it anymore, are you?"

"N-No..." You answered shyly, laying your head in his lap, and staring up at him. Your cheek squished against his toned thigh and your eyes sparkled with admiration as you peeked through wet lashes.

"You know, you're kinda pretty when you're not nagging.." Aki chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his cheeks for a bit before parting his jaws. The way it slowly billowed out over his lips mesmerized you, finding it almost hypnotic how he looked in this light.

His hair was down, the first time you'd seen it that way, the band having been long since discarded, now at home on his wrist. His jacket was slung over the back of the chair, tie loose and dangling around his neck with the first few buttons of his shirt undone. "I knew you could be good, you just needed a little incentive." He mused with a peaceful smile. "Now c'mon and finish the job, baby. Quietly."

It crossed your mind to protest, but this was the nicest he'd been to you and you adored how it made you feel. Almost immediately, you went back to work, wrapping your manicured hands around his shaft, pumping lazily before guiding his tip to your lips. You took him as deeply as you could, bobbing your head up and down, letting him slide in and out of your throat.

Aki let you do all the work, figuring you owed him that much at least for putting up with your nonsense. His head lulled back against his nape, cigarette hanging from his lips as he let go of what could only be described as the prettiest sounds you'd ever heard. His voice was deep and breathy, moans all coming from the back of his throat as he let you work. He could feel when you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him more insistently, stroking what you couldn't take with a spit coated hand.

His fist tightened further in your hair, tugging at your scalp more harshly the closer he got. Your eyes rolled back a bit at the firm pull, pulling a string of whimpers from your throat, vibrations only serving to spur him on further. Eventually, you felt him push your head down, burying your face in his lap as his hips instinctively began to jerk. You immediately relinquished control, letting him set a quicker pace than you previously kept.

All you could do was sit there and take his abuse as he repeatedly hit your gag reflex, totally unbothered by the grotesque sounds that came as a result. "Ahhh, fuck," He hissed, on the verge of tipping into oblivion. "Just a little more, be so quiet for me, pretty girl." He hushed, crushing the end of his cigarette in his teeth. You steeled yourself in an effort to silence the lewd reactions you were giving, wanting nothing more than to please him.

Within moments, you could feel warm spurts splash your uvula, startling you briefly. He never stopped or pulled out like you'd expected. He simply held your head still as he rode through his high, fucking more seed into your pretty mouth. He could feel your throat begin to tense with the action of swallowing, your mouth too full to resist. "D-Don't swallow," He demanded, trailing a hand down to your throat, squeezing lightly to prevent the reaction. "Don't you fuckin' dare."

You looked up at him with glistening eyes, silently pleading for relief from your full cheeks, but he wouldn't budge. Aki slowly and carefully began to pull out, his stone face hiding animalistic desire. "Kiss me," He finally sighed, slumping in the chair, hoisting you up by your hair. You eagerly crawled up, standing on your knees as he knelt down, pressing his lips to yours.

You had expected a brief peck but, Aki was full of surprises. Instead, you were met with a hot, open-mouthed kiss, his lips kneading against yours as his tongue parted them, letting his jizz flood into his mouth. You were too dazed with the intensity of the moment to notice when he'd begun to swallow, little by little. Before you knew it, there was hardly anything left but a small puddle under his tongue which was the remnant of what had been passed back and forth. Then, he pulled back.

"If you could be this good at listening at work, we might get somewhere." He grinned wolfishly.

-----

Your mood shift was monumental and could be felt all throughout the office. Many remarked that you were suddenly like an entirely different person ever since the day you were both late. You always dismissed the rumors with some boring excuse, and this time was no exception.

"My my," Makima mused, stirring her fresh cup of coffee in the break room. "You seem to be quite chipper as of late. Any particular reason?"

"Not at all!" You beamed sweetly, pouring a cup of plain black coffee and setting it to the side. "I just love my job, that's all. I enjoy being here." She eyed you knowingly as you began pouring a second cup, dumping loads of sweetness into it.

"I trust you and Aki have settled your differences, then?" She asked, leaning against the counter. "Is that for him?"

You nodded sheepishly. "We had a nice heart-to-heart." You smiled softly, picking up both finished cups and heading for the door.

"I'm so glad to hear that, I thought I was going to have to reassign you both." Your boss smiled after you, not deceived in the slightest.

You paid no attention to her interest, happily trotting off to find your partner, greeting him with a sweet smile, which he graciously returned. "Morning, Aki! I brought your coffee, black just how you like it!"

Your change in demeanor warmed his heart and he gently took the cup from you. "You're too sweet for me," He cooed, sipping it with a satisfied sigh. "I wonder what's had you in such a good mood lately."

You glared at him playful, hardly amused with his coy attitude. "You know exactly what it is, dummy." Ever since that first occasion, you'd spent multiple nights together, activities far surpassing just oral. Aki chuckled a bit, leaning into your ear conspiratorially.

"There that pesky little attitude again... Why don't I fuck it out of you again tonight?"

[driftersreverie]

For the lifetime he has lived, Scaramouche had nothing to favor.

There was nothing for him to pick, anyway. He had no hobbies, for all the tasks he learnt to do in the past were just that - tasks. He'd done those out of a need for a purpose, a drive for validation, but Scaramouche was no longer a fledgling stranded on a branch. Flowers and trees are all the same to him, and this unsubstantial world never lacked its flora anyway - always something new to find, to marvel at, then to be bored of in the end. Don't even get him started on mortals — animals and humans alike — that lived the most boring and short and miniscule lives when compared to the lifespan he spent alive. Scaramouche would spit and scowl and curse -- how absurd for one to think he'd care for another worthless life that would just die out in barely half a year he'd know them.

Scaramouche had nothing special to call his favourite, and there was no reason for him to do so then.

But the Wanderer does now.

The Wanderer wakes up in the morning, mechanically so yet humanly still blinking away the fog of sleep. He forgets not his hat, not his scarf, and definitely not the personality of a man-puppet that's lived 500 years and more, then he leaves Buer's side to find you.

His day only truly begins when it's your face that he sees first. He wastes no time; he greets you, says his 'hello's, maybe add something remarkably sassy just to see you hold back your irritation and force a smile so awfully unlike you. The Wanderer snickers, a battle won in which he knows you liked him enough not storm off like a certain "senior" Kshahrewar (he's older, mind you) or scatter like bugs on a kitchen floor. Without warning, you then held his hand in yours, perfectly fit as all things should be, and he doesn't shy away - at least, you don't think so. The only thing that gave him away, had you looked closer, is the downwards tilt of his hat, and the uncharacteristic smile he cannot suppress.

With you, the Wanderer finds good company in ridiculous, inaccurate history books; in boring, nosy lectures he loathed to join; in the busy streets and bustling bazaars that he disliked strolling through; and in the stillness of the night and his quiet mind. He never realizes it, but he looks forward to seeing that wonderful smile on your face. Every sarcastic quip he would anticipate your bright laugh, no matter how many times he'd call it grating for his mechanical ears. In each and every joyous expression, this childish and naive puppet hopes that he'd remain the sole reason for them.

Yes, the Wanderer fails to see a reason to start having favourites in this new chance of life, but he didn't need a reason nor excuse to allow you to claim your place in his heart - his number one priority and first exception to everything.

(And because I partake in EBG; @iceunhie @naraven . Thank me later ;D - assistant)

[simplyreveries]

just saw that requests are open 🗣️🗣️

I already asked this for housewardens, but can you maaayyyybbeeeee do the rest of the dorms with s/o who’s like their movies princess

yes!!<3

trey clover

he finds it endearing with your curiosity, you always seem to be coming to him with questions upon questions about twisted wonderland. he sometimes forgets that this is all so new to you, whereas he has been used to this world his whole life. he chuckles in amusement and does gently advise you when dealing with certain people or things regarding this world. he wants to look out for you— you can’t help but make trey worry sometimes!

whenever you tend to get stubborn and talk back to others, such as riddle (who is equally as stubborn) you two get along but yet butt heads quite often with your attitudes. trey seems to make himself the mediator between you two, he shakes his head playfully and teases that you're too troublesome.

finds it flattering, but honestly a little difficult to concentrate whenever you’re around— only because you’re so impressed of such simple magic and things he can do naturally. when he absentmindedly uses it for cooking in such your wows and awes make him laugh, he’ll tell you he feels nervous though when it seems like he has an audience now haha.

ruggie bucchi

no because you genuinely made him nervous... when he had met you, he was expecting you to be some easy target or someone he thought he might try to get some madol out of... he was wrong. at first, he knew at that point you weren’t someone easily to be messed with in such a way. he eventually did grow a huge amount of respect for that.

ruggie snickers and laughs whenever you get confrontational with any sort of bothersome savanaclaw students or even leona— (surprisingly he doesn’t seem to respond much to that, he seems to back down around you as well). he enjoys how willingly you get into the face of others. whereas he's sneakier and unconfrontational you're pretty much the opposite here. he never seems worried about you though when it comes to that, he finds it amusing.

you two often get into playful banter with each other all the time- witty remarks and teasing. he loves it, there has been a few times you've managed to make him flustered.

jade leech

he truly thinks you're too innocent. too easily swayed, he finds it oh so endearing. not to mention, your fascination of this world makes him laugh. especially whenever you decide to approach him inquiring him about plants, animals, things he may have seen as he's always seeming to be out hiking in the woods and mountains that are near the school.

jade enjoys sharing what he knows- but he is able to give you more information about the coral sea since that's what he's known for most of his life. he suggests the idea of you visiting there sometime on your own accord. instead of when you were tangled into that deal with azul, he'd tease. he remembers the curiosity and awe as you went to the museum there.

your knack for collecting items is endearing to him, if there's a chance he's ever out somewhere- like a gift shop in another country, he makes sure to get something for you. he chuckles pleased when he sees the excited look on your face and rambling.

jamil viper

he admires and honestly even relates to your own personal desires of independence and exploring. jamil has always wanted to travel and see the world,, he tells you often that he wants you to come with him to not only his homeland but other places he was interested in and thinks you'll enjoy too. ever since chapter 4 he has been able to get some more space- and he wants to do that with you.

though he is used to kalim, being such a kinder person a school like this, he thinks you should still be cautious because of the students around you. whenever you show acts of kindness, he gently reminds you about people like octavinelle exist...!

jamil huffs at your stubbornness sometimes, even though he really is no different than you. so even if he does get a little frustrated (mostly only out of worry for you) he can't help but laugh because you two are similar in such ways. he lets you win.

rook hunt

we've seen his liking to neige,,,, he is no different with you. he finds your optimism for such a situation you're in truly beautiful. he thinks your perseverance through the chaos you've been thrown into and willingness to fix ramshackle up a little to be a bit homier was cute even.

rook has a habit always watching out for you. he can't help but feel some sense of wanting to protect when it comes to you. even though he can't help but already be around you all the time with how overly loving he is.

he easily developed such a fascination to you, he always found you somehow throughout the day. he adores your voice; he thinks it's the loveliest thing he's heard. he constantly comes out of nowhere- surprising you tell you how beautiful you sounded to him. rook claims he could listen to it all day and knowing him, he's not exaggerating.

lilia vanrouge

he doesn't show it in the most obvious way, it tends to come off more playful- but lilia does have a sense of protectiveness over you like malleus would. like i said though, he could easily play it off and twist it into him just finding you and popping up bizarrely from some ceiling, greeting you sweetly. he does seem to always have an eye on you. he thinks you're too good of a soul for a school like this sometimes.

finds your daydreamy and hopeful demeanor so,,, sweet. he is giggling as you tell him your hopes and ideas for your future. lilia tells you he'll make them happen. knowing what he's capable of.... he means it.

he'll grin and playfully twirl you to make you laugh - when he catches you off in your own world. he doesn't seem to really snap you out when you're off in your own world. he just watches you smitten; he laughs if you notice him staring and wouldn't deny it.

[deunmiu-dessie]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧.

( unedited ) john price soothes you.

the human mind is truly remarkable.

thick, dark blood stains your soft hands carmine, sullies your face in dotted speckles, and dribbles from the knife in languid rivulets that bead on your thighs. at the sound of his heavy booted footfalls, you gaze up at john with wide terrified eyes, the kitchen blade slipping from your slick clasp and clattering onto the tiled floor. your mouth is parted to take in slow, shallow metallic tasting breaths, body shivering in the cold pool of blood you sit in. “no, no i–”

your eyes settle back onto the lifeless body at your bare feet and tears burn behind your eyes as bile attempts to crawl its acidic form from the depths of your throat. your lashes flutter wildly, eyes darting from the body and then down to your bloodied palms, which you futilely attempt to cleanse on the smooth fabric of your silk nightgown, only succeeding in spreading the crimson stains further up your arms.

john casts a fleeting look over his shoulder at his men briefly, a silent signal of reassurance before he gradually lowers his weapon and advances towards you. your frightened eyes dart to him, and he watches as you hastily retreat, knees slipping in the blood and body pressing against the cold wall as you shrink into yourself. "i didn't, h-he tried to⎯ no, i didn't do it, s-swear," you stammer softly, voice quivering with desperation as you attempt to explain yourself; eyes fixed upon the body just a few meters away.

it saves itself, blurring, altering, and blocking traumatic events. psychological repression.

disregarding the body, john descends into a squatting position, placing his firearm on the floor, a gesture intended to instill a sense of security within you. then he starts a slow trek forward, his hands extended in front of him, reminiscent of someone approaching a frightened animal. "s'alright, i believe you. we're not here to hurt you," however, wide, fearful, innocent eyes look doubtful, distrusting, and glassy.

he continues his slow advance as you continuously attempt to explain the lifeless body of your employer. "and i— i tried to p-push him away, b-but he was too strong," john emits soft, barely audible hums, he hears you, he’s listening. but they needed to go, and now; it wasn't safe for you anymore. as he approaches, he finally reaches a point where he can delicately cradle your blood-splattered face in his glove-covered hands, waiting patiently until your wild eyes meet his understanding gaze. because he understands.

the tears you had so desperately tried to hold in spill down your cheeks hotly. a faint whisper escapes your lips, “i didn't do it.” but you did, he knew you did. laswell knew, his team knew. the men on their way to kill you, knew. he gave you a reassuring smile, small and intimate. “i know.” the day's events finally catch up with you, and you collapse into his embrace, succumbing to unconsciousness.

often without the individual even realizing it.

[kai-anderson-whore]

Appreciation (Kai Anderson x fem reader smut)

Summary: your Kai’s most loyal follower and he shows you that it didn’t go unnoticed

Warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, spanking nothing too crazy.

Word count: 1k

A/n: here’s another short one. I don’t really like this as much I had a whole thing for this but work got in the way.

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

The light in the basement barely light the room, eerie the room felt and the atmosphere within the room. You stood in front of your divine ruler Kai Anderson as he examined you like a wild animal watching their prey. You felt nervous Kai asked to speak to you privately only thing was you wouldn't know if it was good or bad.

You knew you followed his every instructions without hesitation, you were devoted to him he was god like to you and many of his loyal followers. But you would bend over backwards for kai and he knew this and used it to his advantage. "Y/n I've seen how loyal you have been to me so don't think it's going unnoticed, you truly go above and beyond for the movement" kai said with a expressionless composure.

You bit your lip in nervousness you wouldn't know what was going to happen next, he took steps closer to you taking your chin between his fingertips. Nodding your head you listened carefully to kai like always. "So in appreciation to your unconditional loyalty and gratitude, I want to reward you" Kai gestured you to take his hand guiding you to the couch in the middle of the basement.

The mood in the room shifted Kai's grip on your hand was soft unlike any other time when it would hurt. His eyes showed a little emotion unlike the deadness they always held. You both sat on the couch before you could say anything Kai crashed his rough lips on your soft ones. You felt the air getting knocked out your lungs the kiss fulfilled with hunger and lust.

You felt like putty in his cruel hands, his grip on your neck holding you in place, his lips showed dominance as they attacked your own. A moan left your lips, your body laid on on the sofa Kai straddling you, his hands roaming under your t-shirt exploring every curve of your body. You shivered in anticipation under his touch. Feeling a rush of wetness soak your panties, Never did your thought you would ever have Kai like this, you only dreamed of this moment for so long.

Kai pulled your t-shirt off your body throwing it near the tv in front of you both. You sat up only to be pushed back down by his grip on your neck. A moan left your lips as his grip tightened. "Such a dirty little slut" he smirked darkly you felt a rush of weakness soak through your panties hearing him degrading you. Kai then proceeded to remove your underwear not bothering to remove the skirt that was hiked up over your ass now.

Kai was quick to remove all his clothes, you felt embarrassed you never been like this with Kai before, it felt like the first time all over again. "Come on don't be shy, you were quite loud with my hand around your neck" he remarked cockily. You slowly spread your legs allowing Kai to slot himself between them.

Kai wasted no time entering your wet heat without warning. You let out a cry "FUCK", your hands gripped the armrest of the couch. His thrusts were fast already not giving you time to adjust. Even though you never slept with Kai before you knew he wasn't the kind to be soft and gentle not that you minded him being rough.

"Fuck your pussy feels so good" Kai hissed through gritted teeth.

Your body jolted violently, Kai's hips slamming against yours. Your loud moans filled the basement, Kai's hard grip on your hip you were sure he would leave bruises there as well as his grip on your throat. You mind clouded you never been fucked like this before by anyone you couldn't get enough of it.

Kai suddenly pulled out of you, a disappointed groan left your lips looking up at him. "What's wrong?" You asked breathlessly moving your hair away from your face. "Turn around" kai instructed you did as you were told your arms and chin resting on the armrest of Kai's sofa, wiggling your ass in-front of your divine ruler.

Kai re-positioned himself with your entrance, giving your ass a smack before ramming himself into you. "Fuck Kai" you cried out. His hand kept colliding with your ass leaving red hand prints on the flesh. The feeling felt so good, "fuck your so tight" Kai grunted his thrusts showing you no mercy.

You soon felt dangerously close to the edge, "I'm so close" you warned Kai pulled you by the throat so your back was flush against him. Your hand holding onto the headrest of the sofa to steady yourself as Kai thrusted up into you. "Don't cum yet" he instructed you moaned out in disappointment but tried your best to follow his instructions.

Kai's grip on your throat tightened his free hand trailed down your body to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves "Kai please let me cum please" you choked out your legs trembling, you felt Kai begin to twitch inside of you "cum for me" he whispered into your ear. You didn't need to be told twice letting go over Kai's cock with a loud moan.

Your legs trembling more as your orgasm ripped through you like nothing before, Kai continues to thrust into you keeping his harsh pace. Tears picked your eyes with overstimulation till Kai's hips stilled, spilling his seed into you with a low moan. Your legs still trembled feeling full.

Kai pulled out once he was done you tried to push yourself off the sofa but your legs didn’t allow you. Kai dressed himself whilst you tried to collect yourself pulling your skirt down. “Get cleaned up we have a meeting in twenty minutes” was the last thing Kai had said to you.

You got cleaned up and redressed just in time for the rest of the cult coming in the basement. Kai gave his lecture never taking his eyes off you, blushing at the eye contact you wondered when the next time you would be alone with Kai. Clinging on to his every last word you really were his most loyal follower.

[shirefantasies]

Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. “Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

[a-whisper-in-the-forest]

Dinner

Part 1 (Happy)

Villain follows the Child to a nice neighborhood in the city. Nothing crazy expensive like the Villain's penthouse, but comfortable. It looks very different in daylight. They hadn't even noticed the little park next to the apartment complex before. It probably wasn't illuminated at night. “This way!” The Child says cheerfully. They have been practically skipping the whole way. Villain sees the door that leads to Hero's apartment. Why did they feel nervous? They have been here before.

The Child opens the door and the smell of a warm dinner hits their nose. They both come inside and take their shoes off. The Child immediately grabs Villain's arm and drags them to the kitchen. “Sibling, look who I found!” Hero is standing in the kitchen, their hair still wet from the shower. They're wearing sweatpants and a bandage is visible under their sleeve. “Oh, Child, please. No more rabid street animals,” Hero says, exhausted. Their voice lacks their usual enthusiasm that make their fights so much more entertaining. “Ouch….” Villain huffs. “That's not really friendly, is it?”

Hero whips around, a horrified expression plastered on their face. “Hi, darling,” Villain says with a smug grin on their face.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Hero yells out, pointing the spatula in their hand at Villain. “I invited them over for dinner!” Child gleems as they start taking plates out of one of the drawers. “Why? You know that's Villain right? The bad guy I warned you about?” Hero's voice is going so high that only dogs are going to be able to hear it in a minute. “Yeah, that's Villain. They helped you, remember?” Child says innocently. They truly don't see anything wrong with this. Villain finds it adorable. Hero lets out a deep sigh. “Child, please don't tell me that when you asked me how to thank someone and i told you to cook them some food, you meant thanking Villain?”

“Obviously, who else would I thank?” The Child says, having moved on to putting the glasses on the table. “Oh my god…” Hero sighs, pinching her nose bridge. “Oh my god…” They have to lean against a counter. “Did I teach them nothing?” Villain decides that that's enough panic for the Hero in one day. Their fight already took a lot of energy. “Not to interrupt your self-loathing, darling. But to their defense, I already knew your adres and they are following your advice, so you did teach them something.” Villain takes a step forward. “I was just a bit worried about you so I decided to come along, I can leave as fast as I came in.”

“No!” The Child yells out across the room,“Please don't leave!” Hero sighs again as a response. “Okay, they can stay. But only for dinner.” Hero points a finger towards Child as a warning. They shriek and drag Villain towards a seat at the neatly set table. Villain sits down and watches as Hero brings out a casserole and puts it on the table. Meanwhile Child pulls out a tablet and starts looking for a cartoon to watch.

“It's not made by a private chef, but it'll have to be enough,” Hero says as they sit down across the table, right in front of Villain. “Oh, I fired that chef ages ago. Too much caviar for my taste,” Villain remarks nonchalantly, “That and the poison they wanted to slip into my food.” Hero almost spits their drink out. “They did what?”

Villain shrugs, “I always have to be careful with who I trust. And don't worry, they are dealt with.” Villain stuffs their mouth full. They can't really make out what it is Hero cooked, but it’s still good. “That must be horrifying,” Hero says, taking another bite.

“What?” Villain cocks their head. It was just an assassin from a rival villain, nothing too dangerous. Worse things have been sent their way.

“You know, worrying all the time about not getting killed,” Hero continues. “Well, my dear Hero, I'd rather be dead than locked up in a cell,” Villain answers, “I'm more scared of you than some spy that can't tell his poison from his tea.”

Hero looks shocked. “You're scared of me? You?” Villain takes a sip from their drink, taking a minute to gather their thoughts. How were they going to explain this? “Not necessarily you…but what will happen to me if I get caught,” they answer, picking their fork up again to eat some of the mystery dish. “When,” Hero answers. Villain looks up from their plate. “If,” they counter. “I will catch you one day,” Hero says, a glint of confidence and determination in their eyes. “Oh, but I'm right here, darling.” Villain leans forward while placing a hand under their chin, “Yet you've done nothing about it.”

“That’s because there are children at the table. We have to keep it civil.” Hero says back, leaning forward over the table as well. Villain glances over to the child who's deeply invested in a cartoon on their tablet. “Please don't tell me you're one of those tablet-parents that push a screen towards their child as soon as they make a sound.” Villain gestures towards the Child with their free hand. “One, I am their sibling, not their parent. Two, they have a very strict screen time. It blocks everything as soon as their timer is up,” Hero answers, looking at the Child. “Seems excessive. They seem smart enough to know what's good for them,” Villain says as they lean in even closer. “You both are pretty smart. But unlike them, you don't know what's good for you.” Hero answers, mimicking Villain's movements. “Mmmh,” Villain purrs. “And what is good for me, my dear Hero?”Hero turns to the Child. “Child, don't you have some homework left to do?”

“But…” Child starts to protest but a stern look from Hero quickly shuts that down. They slowly leave the table and pout all the way to what seems to be their room. “So… Why are you really here?” Hero asks Villain, playing with a bracelet around Villain’s wrist. “Child said you've been sad the past few weeks and only cheered up when I left.” Villain says looking in Hero's eyes. They saw an emotion they hadn't noticed before. “That Child worries too much about me,” Hero answers, “But it is true. Work has been a real pain in my ass recently.”

“I could take a few out for you, lighten the workload and all that.” Villain moves their free hand to hold the Hero's empty hand. “While I appreciate the offer, I'm going to have to decline. I can handle myself,” Hero answers, looking Villain in the eyes. “Oh, I am sure you can, darling,” Villain says as they let go of Hero's hand and move to stand up. “I think I better get back. It's starting to get late and I still have some henchmen to beat in Mario kart.”

As Villain moves to walk through the door, they turn around one last time. “If you ever need anything. A favor, money, a good talk. Know I will always be there for you, darling.” They move forward to land a soft peck on Hero's cheek. As soon as the light touch was there, it disappeared. Hero watches as the Villain leaves and desperately tries to suppress the butterflies in their stomach.

Hi! Since a few people asked, here is a second part to 'Happy'! I hope it lives up to your expectations since I have exams and have to write during breaks. (If you see any spelling mistakes, no you didn't :) )

Btw, feel free to make any requests in my asks!

( @demetercabingreen-thumb, @ghostlyexpertlight and @ekira17 asked for a part two) (I can untag you from the post if you'd like, just let me know)

[leighsartworks216]

Hello! I have ideas for Astarion and a druid Tav. Atv can shapeshift, and Astarion likes to sit in/enjoy the sun. Once they're close enough, Tav asks if they can use him as a basking perch. So sometimes Astarion will have a dog or cat in his lap, sometimes a snake around his shoulders, or even once a bird nesting in his hair (Tav was scouting and got too tired to shift back).

For some angst Tav could be injured while in animal form or stuck in one by magic and so Astarion takes them back to camp and keeps Tav close until they recover and can turn back.

It is almost 1:30am haha I need to go to bed

I also wrote this in 3rd person pov for no reason other than I felt it worked a little better

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 693

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Soft purrs fill the morning air. The sun is warm, and where Astarion sits on his rug is the first spot her rays touch every morning. And every morning, he cherishes the time he had left within it.

One hand runs idly along soft fur, while the other holds open a book. Every now and then, his pets slow down as the story becomes interesting, but he makes up for it with a gentle scratch behind the ears.

This was also part of his morning routine. Several weeks ago, the intrepid leader of their group began joining him on his rug in the morning. They asked first, of course, and they never bothered him. It was rather nice, actually. They’d read their own book or prepare herbs or even braid together a flower crown.

A week later, they had taken to shifting into an animal form and stretching out within the beams. They usually fell asleep like that. And once again, he didn’t mind. Their feline purrs were never grating or overwhelming, and even as a dog they had the decency not to drool on his stuff. The occasional snake or bird would warm themselves on a rock or perch nearby with their beak tucked under their wing. It was always a little fun to guess which animal they’d turn into each day.

And then they asked if they could lay in his lap. He’d scrunched his face up at the idea, asking why his lap was suddenly better than the rug. They’d just claimed it was hard to get comfortable lately, but they didn’t push to ask again. That day, they’d curled up in Karlach’s lap. They couldn’t sleep, because the tiefling was so busy gushing over how soft and adorable they were, and Astarion couldn’t focus on his embroidery because he’d become so used to their presence - Karlach’s noise level aside. So the next day he sighed and told them they could lay in his lap.

Now, it was so embedded into his mornings, he felt wrong without an animal on or near him. Cat or dog in his lap, snake or bird on his shoulders - he just needed something. He truly never realized just how nice petting an animal could be - even a druid disguised as one. They always thanked him afterward, though he found he wanted to thank them, too.

The sun’s rays slowly shifted. Warm, concentrated beams diffusing as it continued to rise into the mid-morning. The cat in his lap heaved a long sigh and rose to their paws. He watched as they stepped out from his crossed legs and along the rug, stretching with each step until they sat down nearby. The cat transformed back into a humanoid druid that yawned and stretched out their arms.

“Thanks,” they murmured.

Astarion chuckled. “Still tired? You’re even worse than Gale.”

They made a sound that almost sounded like a chuckle, if it was stretched and morphed by a sleepy sigh. “What can I say? Your lap is extremely comfortable.”

“I’ll add it to my list of remarkable qualities.” His head tilted as he studied them. Their shoulders drooped, their back was hunched, they rubbed their eyes, and stifled another yawn. “You look fit to collapse.”

They breathed out a long sigh. Their eyes were heavy with bags under them, staring blankly across the camp. So much to do, so little time, but Astarion was right. They wouldn’t be able to hold a half-decent conversation, let alone fight.

Astarion pat his lap, an open invitation. “I’m sure they would understand. Another day won’t kill us - hopefully.”

“How reassuring,” they muttered, but they were already shrinking back down once more into a cat. They lumbered over and curled back up, purring incessantly as they gave in to their exhaustion.

He stroked down their back again, lightly scratching along their spine. Their coat shone in the light. He wondered when the hell he’d let them get so damn close.

He sighed, allowing the mystery to fade to the back of his mind, and lifted his book once more, finding where he left off and reading on. Yeah, one day wouldn’t hurt.

---

Tag List:

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