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[https-casanova]

𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙

summary: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, royal au, based off of the story from 1001 arabian nights

word count: 10.7k+

warnings: dark content, mdni, 18+, mentions of killing, mentions of taking virginity, has the gallows and a noose in it, praise!kink, corruption!kink, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating

note: for those who don't know, baba means dad, and aziz/azizam means my dear in farsi. this story loosely follows 1001 arabian nights, but not completely. i wasn't gonna sit on my ass and write them all out 💀

also a big, big, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, ty sm bby!!

jjk masterlist

---

The palace smelled deeply of rose petals, a scent so distinctly comforting that you couldn’t help but smile giddily as you walked down the vast halls, looking at the different amenities the palace had to offer as you searched for the room you knew your father would be residing in. 

The more you walked, the darker the halls got and the less the smell of rose lingered in the air, a warning to stay away from this part of the palace. Though you had no choice but to ignore the prominent warnings, your posture became more frigid as you hummed a tune you had heard in the bazaar to keep yourself busy. 

You were well aware of the fact that your father resided right next to the king's quarters, so as you slowly opened his door to make sure no noise was heard, entering as you noted your father sitting on the edge of his bed, his wrinkly hands enveloping his tethered face as he could barely bring himself up to look at you.

“Baba,” Your heart dropped, running over to his frail body, your hands checking his forehead as your eyes filled with worry, “What’s wrong? Does your back hurt? Oh,” You noted his worn-out hands, “You have to let the king find another vizier,” You kneaded his hand with yours, “You cannot be his helper forever,” You cracked a gentle smile, but instead of his usual banter, he shook his head, still not looking up from his bed as he sniffled.

“Baba?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Your father never cried. Never. Not when your mother died, not when the old king died, or even when you had managed to ruin his silken clothing. Despite his hardships, he was the man of the household, and he held himself to that standard.

But here, he looked like the shell of a man. His shoulders were hunched, lips pale as he shuddered, pushing your hands off of his back as he weakly stood up. 

“Y/n,” He stared at the door, eyes quite dead as he refused to look your way, terrified that if he did he would crumble to his knees and beg for an apology. Even worse, if he looked at you, his resolve would shatter and he’d leave the room as fast as he could, “Azizam,” You watched as a singular tear rolled down his cheek, “You will have to forgive me.”

You shakily rose, brows scrunched up in confusion as you let out a question laugh, walking over to him to see what he was talking about, what had gotten him so shaken up that he used such an endearing nickname he had never used before this day.

“The king has asked for you to spend the evening with him,” He muttered, voice hoarse and raspy as he broke down into tears again. 

“He…” Your shaky hands flew to your lips, eyes wide as you stumbled back, “He what?” Your frantic questions went unanswered as your father let more of his endless tears fall, wet lips holding back silent sobs as he turned back.

The king, a dreaded name for those around the palace. You childishly thought that being the daughter of the vizier would somehow spare you of the torture, of the horror that came with going into his quarters at midnight. 

He said nothing as he crumpled down to the floor, hands covering his eyes as you stared at the door, the same one you had entered through, and the same one that seemed to mock you as your hands shook at your side. 

One evening pleasuring the king meant spending the next morning dead.

---

Servants flocked to the room shortly thereafter.

They paid no attention to the old man as they ushered you outside, their nimble fingers working swiftly as they led you to a completely different room, stripping you bare as you worked mindlessly.

You fell into the large basin, cold water splashing across your body as they worked in silence, some here and there whispering words of pity to one another as they gossiped about your father's weakened state.

You knew that deep down, sooner or later, this day would come. That one night they will take you to get clean and pretty so that the king can spend his lonely night with a virgin to bed, and by morning have her dead so that she may not betray him.

You could guess why you were giving off no emotions as their hands scraped your body rid of the dirt and dust, rubbing rose petals across your flesh, running water through your hair as they worked quickly and effortlessly. 

At this point, you knew they had done this many times to know to be quick with the king's impatient temper.

You seemed to be like a mindless doll as they carried you out of the tub, staying quiet as one lady braided your hair, gentle as she wove flowers into the crown of your head. 

You watched as the other carefully dotted the roses across your cheeks, dipping her finger into the jar of honey as she brought it up, careful not to let any of it to waste as she swiped it across your lips, her eyes filled with deep sorrow as you stared out the windows and into the dark veil of night.

“You look very beautiful, azizam,” The old lady behind you muttered, her kind hands letting go of your hair as she gave your shoulder a gentle pat, “I’m sure your father would be proud of his daughter for serving the nation. 

Serving the nation in your one day demise.

“You have not been…” The old lady sighed, looking away as her hands fell to her side, “You have not been bedded yet, yes?”

You slowly shook your head, muttering out a quiet no as she nodded, ushering out all the other ladies as she came to your view, dropping down so that she was level with your knees.

“You are the vizier's daughter, so you must know,” She stated, her hands holding your cold ones as she pressed a soft kiss to the backside of it, “After you go into his room, he will tell you what he wants. When morning comes, he will have you killed.”

“I have heard it’s quick and painless, " She sighed, giving you a sad smile, “Yet those who have experienced it cannot tell the tale, and so I don’t want you to weigh too deeply on my words, okay aziz?”

The old lady looked down at your hands as she took in a shaky breath, lifting your chin as she patted your cheek carefully. 

“The time is almost midnight,” She said and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “He should be expecting us soon.”

---

His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed. 

You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance. 

Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit. 

You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.

His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.

You had heard of the king's attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel. 

“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement. 

“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body. 

“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions. 

“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window. 

“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion's den. 

You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists. 

“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.

He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.

He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head. 

His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes. 

“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.

“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.

And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.

It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing. 

“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.

“What?” 

“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.

The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed. 

“Excuse me?”

You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence. 

“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”

Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.

“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.

“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”

“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat's grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body. 

“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.

“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”

The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.

So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.

It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand. 

So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.

“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you. 

“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king. 

“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently. 

“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king's soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”

Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on. 

“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”

“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going. 

You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it. 

“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”

He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged. 

“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”

“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material. 

“And?” 

“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out. 

“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”

A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement. 

“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger. 

“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions. 

“No,” You said without letting your voice waver. 

“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”

You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly. 

Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?

“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”

He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him. 

“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”

“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”

“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”

“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”

“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”

“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”

You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains. 

“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him. 

“And then?”

You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice. 

“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest. 

“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you. 

“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east. 

“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground. 

“And why is that?”

Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again. 

“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt. 

The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity. 

“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”

The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you. 

Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story. 

“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”

And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked. 

---

When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king's face.

They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.

As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom. 

“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”

You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.

“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.

“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.

“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”

---

That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.

They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren't much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body. 

“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king's quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”

You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of. 

“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.

Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.

It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.

“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.

“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.

He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.

“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.

You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.

“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”

He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.

“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.

But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.

You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.

“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.

“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.

“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.

“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement. 

“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers' dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.

“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?” 

His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.

“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”

“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”

You could see how the king's eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused. 

“That's it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.

“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.

You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.

“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on. 

And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.

“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”

---

And so, the cycle continued.

You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.

The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.

You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.

He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.

“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”

Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.

You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.

“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.

“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”

You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.

“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.

Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she'd be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.

“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.

“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.

“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.

“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.

“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”

“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.

“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”

You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.

“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.

“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.

“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”

He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.

“What should you know?” He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.

“I don’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”

“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.

You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.

“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,” 

“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”

You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.

“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world. He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.

You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.

“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.

“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.

“But…” You were worried that he'd be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.

“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.

“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.

You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.

---

When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.

You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.

“Morning,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.

“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.

“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.

You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.

The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.

You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.

“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.

“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.

You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.

“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.

You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.

“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.

“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,'' You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.

“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.

“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.

You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.

“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.

“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.

With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.

A voice in the back of your head already knew where.

“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.

Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.

One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.

An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.

“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.

“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”

It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.

You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.

“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.

Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.

You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.

Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.

“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.

His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.

The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.

His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.

“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.

“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.

---

The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.

Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.

They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king's chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.

The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.

“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”

And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.

It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.

It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.

The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.

“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.

His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.

You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.

Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.

He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.

“I thought I’d lost you,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I lost you forever.” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.

“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king.” You tired for a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.

“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever want to think about it.” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.

He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.

His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.

It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.

“You’re doing amazing,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “You’re so fuckin’ tight - shit - h-haven't you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.

“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.

He’s going to ruin you.

“Well you’re just fucking dripping.” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.

“You’re so sweet azizam, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbing on you.” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.

“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.

His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.

“Hmm, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.

More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.

He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.

“I’m not done yet azizam,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”

---

You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.

Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.

Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.

He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.

“I was already awake,” He muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty even when you sleep.” He admitted and you duked your head deeper into his chest at his words.

“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.

“Satoru,” He muttered, “Don’t call me king.” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.

“Alright, Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.

“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”

Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.

“I was wondering when you'd run out azizam,” He exclaimed, pressing a light kiss to your lips as he looked down at you adoringly, “Because it’s time I return that favor,” He moved your hair out of your face as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I doubt you’ve heard the wondrous story of the woman who somehow stole my heart."

[https-casanova]

Goth reader getting caught smoking by jock end up getting punished

cw. aggression, codependency, controlling, dubcon, edging, sexual themes, yandere themes

It was a daily stress dealing with the interactions between classmates as well as family members. Unnecessary commentary, conversations and overall stares that you had come accustomed to but this day, it had you seething. And what could a normal, frustrated goth do to get through the day? Smoke a good cigarette to ease the pain of daily life.

You tried to light the cigarette that was held between your fingers. You were too engrossed in keeping the fire alight against the wind to notice that your jock had found you. He stomped his way over and grabbed the cigarette, crushing it in his palms before dropping dropped it to the floor, and then stomping on it. You stared at him, unfazed while he gazed back, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. You ignored his large stature that hovered over you, pulling out another cigarette and proceeded to light the new cigarette only to have this be crushed and stomped on again. You stared at him, daring him to do it again before resuming to grabbing another. The cycle continued until you had finally come to the very last cigarette, you both stared at each other, standing still waiting for the other to move. You glared are him, determined to even inhale one puff before having it taken away unfairly. You turned your back to him, doing your best to swiftly light the cigarette though you were up against a giant who pummelled his opponents in the field with just his body.

You knew it was inevitable, but you still tried. And halfway through of almost having it lit, the jock who towered over you had grabbed the lighter from your hand, smashing it to the floor right before grabbing the cigarette and throwing it on the other side of where you both stood. You groan in frustration, turning to face him, warning him to buy you a new lighter or else you were not going to be acknowledging his existence for the next week. You were about to walk away, but you were pulled back into his arms. “I don’t know if you get a kick out of pissing me off, but how many times have I told you to stop smoking?” He rhetorically asked, his jaw clenching in hopes to hold back saying anything that he knows will have an argument start kicking. You rolled your eyes, annoyed by the way your boyfriend had been babying you. You were well aware of what could occur from smoking, and you took that in stride.

He noticed your indifference to his frustration, that made his insides boil. How could you not care? He cared so much, he didn’t want to see you throw yourself down a road of self-destruction. Call it dramatic, he doesn’t care, it’s a slippery slope from cigarettes to hardcore drugs that deteriorated an individuals body. He couldn’t bare to see that happen to you, he can’t even handle you holding a pack of cigarettes in your hands.

“Are you stressed?” He asked, his face sinking to where your ears were, his lips softly touching against them. Your jock, albeit forgetting at times, knew how to play with your heartstrings. At times force was necessary, but those other times, the soft lover went a long way in having you comply to his wants. “There are other ways to relieve stress, babe.” A whisper in your ear, followed by a peck to your ear and a soft bite to your lobe had you reeling in embarrassment. You were still frustrated with his controlling nature, but a small part of you knew it was out of his love and worry for you. Although you’ve blocked yourself from the world, this person, even in his most annoying moments, you can’t help but feel your heart open to him. Embrace him. You turned to face him, his face inches away from yours now, “Like what?” You snapped back, watching his eyes linger onto your lips. You were met with silence, only his hand reaching to grab your wrist and pull you to the abandoned stairwells on the other side of the building. During breaks, people occasionally would go there but not frequently. And when it was class? Nobody ever lingered there, except for the two of you of course. It was initially your hangout spot, but ever since your boyfriend came into the picture, you were never there without him. Although that wasn’t your choice at times.

“You don’t need to smoke, you’ve got me.” Without a moments notice, he had you pinned against the wall, face to face with each other. “You just need some dick in you, I’ll have you relaxed the fuck out in no time, babe.” He grinned, somehow already having both his and your pants unzipped. His movements were rough and rushed, not allowing you to get a word in, his palm encircling both yours and his dick, sticking them together while pumping them vigorously. You wanted to talk back to him, pettiness getting the best of you but his lips already made it before you could say anything. Biting onto your lips, sucking your tongue, prepping your hole with his other hand– this was his usual manner during a steamy session but this time, it was as though part of his roughness felt too intense, like he had been the one that was stressed and was taking it out on you, the way you would have with that cigarette.

It wasn’t long before you had yourself creaming into his hand, but you were the only one to release. You slid down the wall, sitting on your bottom to catch a short break. Something as simple as being given a handjob wouldn’t have had you wanting to tap out already, but your beloved jock stimulated your whole body. Each sensitive nerve triggered, pleasuring you to the point where you couldn’t stand still anymore. You watched him go down to his knees, muttering how sexy you were while coming in between your legs, pulling you to him to where if his cock was soft, it would have nicely rested against your cheeks. Your legs rested on each of his thighs, and not a moment later did they start to tense once he entered in you. No matter how many times he fucked this hole, he could never get bored of it. And as much as he wanted to have the predicted yet anticipated heavy sex that he blissed out from every time, he saw an opportunity, so he chose to do the exact opposite. Now difference in speed didn’t lower or increase pleasure as much as you would think. The slower he was, the more prominent you felt your walls parting for his thick pulsating girth, the steady movement allowing you to feel the impact of your favourite spot being kissed. However, when sped up, the tip would continuously slam against the spot that had your eyes rolling.

So initially you hadn’t minded his starting speed to be gentle, he on the other hand was excited to see you grow impatient and desperate. To see your nonchalant face flushed and begging for his cock to fuck your brains out. After minutes passed, he noticed you grow restless, squirming and moving your hips to encourage him. You even clenched your hole tighter, and that almost had him snap but he stayed true to his directive. Not long after, did you finally begin to mewl out for him to move faster. He had to stop entirely once he saw you pleading with small please’s, looking up at him with round eyes. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll move fast for you.” The corner of your lips turned upwards ever so slightly, until he said this, “I just need you to promise you’ll quit smoking.” You groaned like a child, punching his chest knowing very well it did very little. “You don’t need to smoke, anytime you’re stressed you can come to me. I want you to depend on me more, that’s not so fucking hard, is it?” Seconds passed by where the two of you only stared at each other, but your stubbornness gave out and you relented. Giving a small nod, but that was enough of an answer since you felt your body almost fly off of the jock’s lap when he plunged hard into you.

You were rendered speechless, his speed leaving you in a state of mushy goo that couldn’t put in the effort to move from all the stimulation that your body felt. Your chin rested on his shoulder, grateful that your boyfriend had the strength of a god, you couldn’t bare to move and he happily did what you didn’t want to do. “Baby, you cummin’?” His hot breath ticking your reddened ear, he felt you nod against his neck and grinned, “Fuck, you’re so hot..”

Seconds passed and you felt the sweet release hit your body like a wave. And all you could feel as you came down from that high was warm, thick strings coat your insides while kisses were being adorned against your ears and neck. “I’ll be your stress reliever, always.” He whispered in between breaths, nudging against you with a satisfied smile.

[https-casanova]

On The Topic of Dragon Hoards...

Zhongli, no matter how convincingly he may wear his human disguise, is and always has been a dragon at heart.

And he, like most dragons, has a tendency to hoard things.

It's easy not to notice right away, since he tends to keep his belongings tucked away, but once you take note, it's hard to stop seeing them.

Primarily, it's sentimental items, things that have been made for him or gifted to him by those he loves, but once you two have been together a while, you notice that he is definitely giving your gifts preferential treatment.

If you were to look carefully, you'd notice that he's carefully preserved everything you've given him, from letters to meaningless little trinkets, even a scrap piece of paper you drew a diagram on to help get a point across over lunch.

A dragon will hoard things that they deem to be precious and valuable - in this case, the items are all extraordinarily memorable to Zhongli, tied in with the stories of those he cares about. Over time, he adds more and more items relating to you, it's a little sweet, really.

However, if you were to ask Zhongli what the most valuable item in his hoard is, he'll give you a warm, fanged smile and say something along the lines of "Why, it's you, of course, my dear."

[https-casanova]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。LOVE EXPERT — NEUVILLETTE.

contents. established relationships, it’s literally just teaching neuvillette how to cuddle bc he doesn’t understand humans sobs :(, also idk how to write him yet. i apologize i tried my best. i’ll get it soon i swear

“come here,” you tug neuvillette by the arm, shuffling closer, “i want to try something.”

neuvillette, for all his brilliance, doesn’t understand human customs—you can’t help but find it hopelessly endearing.

he doesn’t understand the concept of bringing you flowers. you’ve never minded, never mentioned it until one day, lady furina teases that he’s never brought you so much as a single rose. he questions you that day, innocent and curious and just a bit confused, if it’s normal to gift flowers, if they mean anything special. so you chuckle, kissing between his brows as you explain to him. he brings you them regularly from then on.

one time, he notices a couple holding hands, eyeing their intertwined fingers and swinging arms—you watch in amusement as he studies them for a while, watch him simmer in his thoughts before you chuckle and grab his own hand, squeezing gently. he makes sure not to let go for the rest of the day, making a point to tangle your fingers and guide you through the city. you realize after that day that he’s probably never felt someone’s body so close to his—and you decide you’ll have to change that.

“what…what are you doing?” he asks, looking at you confused. for a second you think he might be uncomfortable, and then you realize he really doesn’t know.

he’s certainly the most unique man you’ve ever dated.

“i’m cuddling you, of course,” you grin, resting your head against his sturdy chest as your arm loops around his neck. he sits stiffly on the couch, as if it’s his chair in the court, as if he’s not here to relax.

“and that is…?” he raises an eyebrow.

you giggle, shaking your head as you lean up and kiss his cheek affectionately. he’s adorable—quite uninformed about romantic affairs, but adorable all the same. and he tries his best, just for you.

“we hold each other, like this—” you explain, taking his arm and wrapping it around yourself. you shuffle closer, pressed tightly against his body as your hand finds his chest, “—and it’s romantic.”

“i see,” he nods, “i think…i think i understand.”

you’re pretty sure he does not understand—you chuckle to yourself as his forehead is still covered with those crinkles from his furrowed brows, the gears in his head working to try and figure out what makes you crave this. and then you start to rub circles into his chest, and the tension melts instantly from his shoulders…and then he thinks he does understand.

“isn’t it nice?” you murmur, cheek pressed against where his heart is as his hand lays on your hip—it’s warm, he thinks. you’re warm, and you’re close, and he can feel your heart beating from being so near. “we get to just feel each other, you know? and not worry about anything else.”

“but…your worries won’t disappear simply by holding—”

“oh, neuvillette,” you huff, “you always take things so literally. just relax, would you?”

“i’m sorry,” he says genuinely, as if he’s offended you by not understanding your cuddles. you look up at him fondly, cupping his cheek as you stroke a thumb over the soft skin.

“you don’t have to apologize, silly,” you peck his lips, trying to hold back the laugh that bubbles through your throat. and, if you’re not mistaken, you think there might just be a faint pout tugging at his corners of his mouth.

“now you’re laughing at me,” he frowns.

“i’m not,” you insist, smiling teasingly, “i just find you adorable, is all.” and then, as your head finds its way back to rest on him, you add, “it’s just nice to have someone close. to know they’re right here with you. does that make sense?”

“yes,” he smiles softly, “i suppose it does.” and then his hand starts to mimic yours, rubbing those slow, careful circles into your hip just like you do against his chest. “i enjoy having you close. your presence is comforting.”

“you’re catching on,” you tease, grinning brightly, “pretty soon you’ll be an expert at love.”

“i’m not so sure i’m quite there yet,” he chuckles, but his cheeks are dusted a light shade of pink.

you think you fall deeper in love right there—there are so many feelings neuvillette doesnt understand, but you’ll help him. slowly but surely, you’ll teach him by loving him in between every emotion so that it’s easier.

“i think you’re doing great,” you say softly, “i love you, y’know.”

he knows he understands this much for certain when he replies, “i as well, love you. very much.”

guys he’s literally just a weepy dragon are u kidding me we have to coddle him i accept nothing else

[https-casanova]

HII

Can we have soft sex w Alhaitham, itto, diluc, Childe and zhongli ?? (Either like drabbles or hcs whichever you prefer)

HELLO <3 i loved writing this so much and I hope you enjoy!! cw: established relationships, fluff (fluffy sex I love it) angst (semi), cockwarming (kinda || childe is just angsty for some reason LMAO), praise kink || unedited/ not proofread !

alhaitham

"I love you," Alhaitham mutters against your lips, the pads of his fingers dragging lazily down the small of your back to the top of your ass.

The morning light peeked through the beige curtains that covered the windows - the binding doing minimal work as the rays could still penetrate the room.

alhaitham's hips move at a slow pace that seemed like he wasn't moving at all - his grip on your body tight that he was afraid you'd leave this moment if he didn't hold on.

"i love you too," you mutter back, your fingers twirling the silver hairs at the nape of his neck.

small noises and noncoherent noises match with the gentle rut of his hips.

alhaitham had woken up before you and watched as you slept. the golden rays of the sun laid upon your face, the light highlighting all your features that made them stand out.

he took in every aspect.

the curve of your nose to the apple of your cheeks, outlining your lips to your chin.

perfection.

"god you're so beautiful," he gasps out, relishing in the way your cunt squeezes him tightly as if you were trying to keep him in. "You're perfect in every way," his hand trails up to your nape, pressing your foreheads together.

his orbs bore into your own, his eyes holding nothing but adoration and love. he absolutely enjoyed mornings like this with you. being able to show his love for you right off the bat was something he loved.

itto

his lips press against yours in a gentle yet sloppy kiss, his tongue protruding your lips in a way of asking permission.

large hands grab at your waist, his nails barely poking your skin but enough to have chills sent up your spine.

the tip of his cock nudges at your sweet spot over and over again- the pleasuring starting to overwhelm you, but you wanted more.

you wanted more of him.

and he wanted all of you.

"i need you," itto mutters into your ear, his arm wrapping around your body. the oni brings you closer to his chest, your nipples brushing against his chest, the stimulation making you whine.

"itto," you whimper, your fingers tangling into his locks, giving it a gentle tug and loving the noise he let out in response. "I need you... i need more.

"I know baby," he coos, his nose burrowing into the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your smell. his pace slows down - his hips stilled despite your whines of protest for him to move but you're quick to be silenced when you feel his lips press on your forehead.

he wants to wreck you and have you cry his name for everyone to hear, but this time is different.

he wants nothing more than to worship you and make everything all about you. your needs are more important to him than anything and everything in the world.

diluc

no words were exchanged between you and your husband. the only words that were needed were the unspoken words of your bodies becoming one.

Diluc's arms are on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against yours in a soft kiss. pieces of his hair came undone from his ponytail, the tresses tickling the side of your face that cause you to let out a small noise in amusement, and his face lets out the faintest smile.

your legs are wrapped around him, bringing him closer than what he was now and even more, if that was possible.

his cock was hugged by your walls in the most delicious way that he wishes he could just live and bask in this feeling for the rest of his life.

his body rubbed against yours with every pump of his hips - his lips swallowed every noise you let out.

tiny whines, heavy breathing and his favorite of all - his name rolling off your tongue in a melodious way.

he absolutely loved the way you called for him. whether it was doing regular tasks around your home and you needed his help, or when he would enter a room. or his favorite by far, the way you'd call out to him and hold him close when your bodies joined and proved your love to one another.

no words were needed during this moment, only your hearts and love for each other.

childe

cerulean hues gleam with the glossy tears that threaten to fall. The faintest bit of red under his eyelashes begins to show. childe buries his head in your neck, his grip on your body never letting go.

"I'm here," you whisper, your fingernail trailing up and down the nape of his neck, holding him close to you "I'm never leaving."

childe's hips remain still, unable to focus on pleasuring you when the thoughts of you abandoning him or something horrible that could possibly happen circulate his mind.

"but what if something were to happen.. I could never live with myself. what if I lose control one day and I hurt you? kill you?"

"Childe.."

"what if they kill you?" he whispers, eyes slightly wide in shock, imagining the very scenario.

"hey," your tone holds some assertiveness that it catches his attention. "I'm not going anywhere. I trust you with my life."

"You mean it?"

of course you meant it. you meant everything you said to the man. your reassurance was all he needed in his vulnerable moment. it wasn't the first time this has happened - but you were there for all the other times. after awhile, he was finally able to calm down and was determined to show you how much you meant to him.

childe's hips move at a very slow pace, his lips never leaving your neck as he places millions of small kisses. With each kiss he mumbled the words 'i love you' and now you were brought to tears.

soft moans and whimpers come from you as you mumble back sweet words of love for only his ears. your fingers dance up and down his bare back, the point of your nail digging slightly into his porcelain skin, the prick causing a shiver to go down his back.

"you're so amazing," you whisper, your spare hand cupping his cheek. sweat glistened on your forehead - yet you looked like an angel shining underneath him. "I love you so much."

"i love you more, my love."

zhongli

"z-zhongli" you moan out, your fingers digging into his shoulders, feeling his muscles contract underneath your touch. "feels so good.."

"i know," he grunts, inhaling sharply when you ground onto him, your pretty cunt tightening around him every time you went down on him.

his slender fingers hold your waist, keeping your body in close proximity to his. your clit brushes against him, the friction causing a new sensation to chart through your body.

a sharp cry emits from your lips, your arms now thrown around his neck. his grip tightens on you, shifting his lower body to sit in a more comfortable position.

"you're doing so well," he mutters into your ear, nibbling at the shell. "so pretty.. so beautiful.. my beautiful," his lips press against your cheek, helping you roll your hips on him.

your face warms at his comment.

it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to compliment you like this. In fact he did it on a daily - almost hourly. yet, it always catches you off guard and throws you in a spiral where you get giddy.

"i'm so lucky to have you," the corner of his lips curls upward slightly, his knuckle brushing against the soft skin of your face. "you make me so incredibly happy."

[https-casanova]

NOT MY ASTARION BRAIN ROT CONTINUING CUS LIKE i just got the scene where he literally says he misses seeing his face and that like he wishes he knew what he looked like and i??? WANTED SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE AN OPTION TO DRAW HIM

LIKE IMAGINE STARING AT HIM ACROSS THE BONFIRE, watching the way the light dances across his pale skin. youve been through hard times and one of the things you've learned to get through it was to draw

at first, you loathed the fact that you had to paint rich people for mere couple pieces of gold when you knew your art was worth more than that. you loathed even more that they'd upturn their posh noses at you and scoff when, truly, they knew what a treasure your art was.

now, seeing astarion, the way his white hair seemed to almost form a halo around his head, reflecting the moonbeams that graced his body, watching as he crossed his legs and meditated; you knew that you didn't regret a single second of the trials and tribulations that led you to this point.

you could finally put this agonizing skill to use. you could draw him.

and so you scrounged up some paper, an ink well, a quill; all things you'd pocketed during your adventures with the rather willful vampire.

you sat there, nib of the quill scratching against the parchment.

your art was nothing compared to the paintings you'd done before; these were mere lines and ink blots. you wished you could truly show him how beautiful he was through water color or pastels. instead, trapped in a land you barely knew, all you could do for him was this.

he had his eyes closed, of course, so you drew them from memory. strikingly red, like rubies, like blood. you didn't forget his crow's feet; you loved the way they wrinkled when he laughed. you shaped his lips, soft but rough from years of bite and chew, and formed it into his infamous mischievous grin.

his hair always seemed unruly but, drawing it now, it felt like drawing gorgeous chaos; there was an order to it, the way the bangs fell across his forehead, the way the sides feathered in front of his ears and curled behind them.

when you stopped, you realised you'd drawn him over and over, across several pieces of parchment.

the way he frowned and his fangs would glance across his lips. the way he'd look confused and his eyebrows would furrow. the way he'd look longingly at the stars, mind distant and eyes almost empty, like he'd made so many wishes that were never granted by the cosmos.

you never liked tooting your own horn but you felt like you truly captured him.

so, you took your pieces of paper, all drawings of him, dozens of them, small and sketchy; you took it all and you sat beside him and spread them out in front of you.

it took him a second to realise you were there. he'd been letting his guard down recently, especially when you were on watch duty, and it took you laying your head across his shoulder for his eyes to flutter open.

he opened his mouth, like there had almost been a retort slipping off his tongue, but the sight of your drawings stopped him.

he let out a ragged breath, eyes flickering across all of them. his clawed hands hovered in the air, trembling, as if taking a hold of the drawings would make them crumble under his touch.

and perhaps, in his head, he really believed they would.

'darling,' he'd call you, his voice wet with unshed tears 'what's all of this?'

of course he'd still joke. it was how he coped with things. he joked to hide how he truly felt and, of course, you were always there to understand.

'it's you,' you answered a matter-of-factly, as if you hadn't just turned this vampires world upside down 'its you the way i see you.'

and that's what makes him crack. because maybe, since you were the one that drew all of it, you hadn't noticed. but he noticed.

he noticed all the love and devotion you spilled across the page. every single detail, every single stroke, it was all from love.

and as someone who had never been on the receiving end of it, astarion cracked and he hid his face into your neck and he cried.

they were soft sobs, almost unnoticeable. but he cried nonetheless.

he cried for his past that he'd lost under his sadistic master, he cried for his difficult present that seemed impossible to escape, and he cried for this hopeful future you seemed to lay out in front of him.

he cried because he didn't realise that he had this much hope left inside of him. because he didn't know what else to do in the face of your devotion.

you just sat there, humming and rubbing his back, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around your waist, claws digging into your skin as if you'd disappear in front of him if he didn't hold on to you as tightly as possible.

[https-casanova]

why won’t my badges work 😭

Literally can’t even put up my 100 post badge on after I accidentally took it off

[https-casanova]

You know where they should use AI?

To replace the CEOs of the companies. No one would see a difference.

[https-casanova]

people will claim they "support the writers strike" and then will turn around and use the very inherently exploitative and unethical ai that studios favour using to replace actual human writers who barely make enough to survive as it is

"starving artist" isn't only a metaphor and your self-serving actions are making that more and more of a reality

[https-casanova]

Warm [Werewolf bf]

⚠︎ warning ⚠︎ : a little angsty at the beginning, yandere behavior from Argos

✎ notes:

idk if this fic makes a lot of sense - if it doesn't, I'm sorry (I needed an outlet for my emotions, esp with this one)

if you're interested, here's the previous part!

Overview: Argos begins to give you more freedom, but it might've not been the best idea. (He also treats you to a warm bath btw)

It’d been a shitty week. Everything had been bubbling and churning and crashing inside you, like litter in the ocean. Litter choked and killed the poor sea life; people choked and killed your emotions. You tried your hardest to hide it from your keen boyfriend and it seemed to work, because he didn’t say anything. 

As twisted as it sounded, Argos stayed silent because he wanted you to be happy. He’d been giving you much more freedom lately–on the sole promise of secrecy–and you (and he) thought you’d absolutely enjoy it. Interacting with people other than him was refreshing–thrilling, even…at first. Your family and friends and acquaintances were oh so glad you were back, and it brought a huge smile on your face. They missed you! 

Argos followed you, however, anywhere you went. Sometimes he was a human, wearing a hoodie with sweatpants. Most times he was a wolf, slinking into alleys and shadows. He was happy to see you happy–he cherished your smile…loved your laugh, after all–but he just couldn’t shake off the fact that they never asked you what happened or where you went. Ever. If they cared for you, he thought, wouldn’t they wonder?

Currently, you were at a lovely gathering and in the midst of venting to a trusted confidant. Curses wouldn’t stop spilling from your mouth and you half thought no one deserved to hear the profanities spewing through your lips, but they nodded along, sitting on a chair and sipping on a drink. You were getting to a peak in your story, then–

“This is really good!” they exclaimed, gazing into their cup. “What did they put in this?”

Oh.

The response was so out of pocket and so completely unrelated to what you were venting about, it sucked all the words right from your mouth. Your mind went blank. 

“I-” you started. 

“You know,” they continued to babble…and the rest faded away.

Quite frankly, you were beyond offended. Despite seeing all red you politely excused yourself and calmly walked away, drink quivering in your hand. You thought you’d nearly break that pretty little glass cup. Stay calm, you urged yourself. Stay calm. The last thing you–or anyone else, for the matter–wanted was another tiring confrontation at a lovely reunion, right?

Argos saw how your lower lip quivered. He saw how your eyes glistened. He saw how hard you gripped your drink. He saw everything, and it took all of his willpower not to rip the door off its hinges with his claws and steal you away. Sharp ears pressed against his head, his black fur melted with the shadows’ dark embrace. He’d get you out. Somehow. 

“Oh? Who’s this?”

Hearing some excited whispers, you glanced over to see what was happening. It’s probably some long-lost person coming to visit, you told yourself, standing uncomfortably in the corner of the room, swirling your empty glass. Nothing interesting, most likely.

Wrong. 

Among the sea of voices you heard his, gravelly and deep. It cut through the air like a sharp knife, and it sent shivers up and down your spine. 

It was Argos, in the flesh. 

What in the world was he doing here? His copper eyes locked with yours and you quickly looked away, fighting the crooked smile that was creeping up your lips–he never failed to find you, did he? When you looked up again he was standing in front of you, large frame engulfing your vision. You nearly let out a yelp but he put a finger up to his lips, silently shushing you. (That simple shirt–the way it stretched tautly over his shoulders and chest, hugging his pale arms tight–looked delicious on him, you thought. As always.)

“What are you–” you started, in a hushed sort of way.

He cut you off by holding onto your hand rather firmly, but not enough to dig into your skin.

“Taking you home,” he replied, rather harshly. 

His voice was low as if he was purposely killing it; it came out in an almost baritone growl. His copper eyes were glued to the door–your ticket out. As you stared at him bewildered, he tilted his head toward the exit as if saying, ‘Let’s go home,’ and all you could do was oblige, half-stunned and half-grateful for his sudden act.

He whispered a soft, “Come,” as he squeezed your hand and tugged you along with him.

Inevitably, people tried to pry and ask questions, but he evaded each query with a charming, rugged smile and swiftly went along his way, you in tow. It seemed to work, because they stood there, too stunned to speak. 

When the two of you were out of prying eyes and ears, Argos shifted. (He had you hold his clothes, though, before he did; he shredded too many already.) He was so big–bigger than a pack mule–yet silent and invisible. (No wonder he’s able to stalk you.) Fur as black as obsidian ran in silky waves along his robust body, thick coat melding perfectly with the night. Paws as big as a dog’s head touched the ground as he gazed at you expectantly.

“You want me to ride on your back?” you asked, quite unsure. 

A muffled hum rumbled in his throat, telling you, “Yes.”

“...Ok.”

The ride home was pleasant. You mindlessly played with Argos’s thick black fur, running your fingers along it, pinching it gently. It was relaxing, hearing the soft crunch of leaves beneath you, burying your face in his warm back. He didn’t mind it when you played with his ears, either, or when you ran your hands along the sides of his fuzzy neck. He was just happy you seemed calmer. Less sad. 

After shifting back, Argos decided to treat you to a small bath. Might as well, he figured, because his clothes were off and you didn’t seem to mind the nudity anymore. The bath wasn’t anything fancy–no petals, no bubbles, no oils–but it was warm, and he was there to take care of you. His deft fingers massaged shampoo into your scalp, and you sighed in relief.

“Are you ok?” he’d ask softly once in a while, washing you off. You just hummed in response, eyes closed and enjoying the sound of water bouncing off the walls. 

He got into the tub after washing up himself, warm water sloshing around as you felt his skin against yours. You leaned into his touch. He pressed gentle kisses on your nape, then along the curve of your neck and shoulder, bringing you closer with his arms.

After a few moments of comfortable silence he mumbled against your shoulder, “What I did was a mistake…” frustration tinging his voice. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

You knew damn well the reason why, but nonetheless asked softly, “...Why?”

He didn’t say anything, just buried his face in your shoulder further, arms wrapping around your waist tighter. 

They’d pay, he thought to himself.

[https-casanova]

JESTERED!!! In my own home 😫

[https-casanova]

I'm just imagining darling running away from Liyue because Childe would not stop pursuing them. It was actually really nice having him around in the beginning, he was incredibly attentive, sweet and just downright caring! He was like a little jealous puppy, he always craved your attention and archons forbid you give it to someone else... But you didn't mind it one bit. He was needy, beyond so, he always valued your criticism and your compliments even more than that. He took everything you said to heart and while a lot of people would complain to have such an intense person by their side you somehow couldn't be helped but to be smitten by the strange ginger man. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and before you knew it it was time to travel and you just wanted to see Inazuma.

Wait, where were you going? Childe was so confused what do you mean you're traveling? Aren't you cute! He lays thick pressure on you these next few days, his gaze much less loving and a lot more stabby as he ponders whether or not he should just lock you away for good. One evening before bed, you pepper his face with sweet kisses and even more addicting promises, promises of your happy lives that you would have together in the future. It would be just the two of you, you said.

He was smitten, he believed you.

Big mistake on his part.

Come day break, the other side of the bed was cold and empty, the window was left wide open.

He spilt a lot of tears, blood and liquor that night.

Thanks to the borders opening up, coming to Inazuma thankfully wasn't too big of an issue. You fell in love with the mysterious nation the moment you stepped foot into it, it's pretty pink sakura petals almost beckoning you to venture further and find a new home for yourself. Due to your excitement however mora started to become a rarity in your life, forcing you to find a job. Thanks to some good luck you managed to land a job as a maid in the Kamisato estate, a decently paying job which you were satisfied with. You heard a lot of things of the Kamisato pair, even saw them on a few occasions and made sure to be on your best possible behavior.

You didn't even notice the ripple effect you caused by accident.

He kept an eye on you, the head of the Kamisato clan found you oddly endearing. He noticed how nervous you got once night would fall and on one occasion he remembers quite vividly handling you a good quality drink of fire-water and he spotted just how shaky that delicate hand of yours really was. There was a petrified look in your eye, as if you had just suddenly recalled a horrible memory that was still fresh in your mind.

He chose not to dwell on it. He was cruel, but not that cruel.

He was going to be the only one who would occupy your mind soon anyway.

Tea time with Ayato became a daily occurrence, but even that wasn't enough for the young lord. In a similar fashion like your old captor, he monopolized your time and attention, forcing you to stay in one place, never allowing you to leave his sight. His cold, gloved fingers would delicately caress your soft cheeks, promising you an eternity of loyalty and happiness if you just remained by his side. In a perfect world you would love him as much as he loved you but he knew that was impossible. Simply being there was enough for him.

You were done.

You could not take this anymore.

You had to run away once more.

Vanishing into the night, you made your way to Ritou, praying for a ship to pick you up. You had the mora, who would ever turn down such a ludicrous amount?

Officers of the Yashiro commission would.

You were banned from leaving, they said.

The head of the Kamisato clan requests your presence, another guard told you.

No matter where you went, it always felt like you were doomed to drown in the deep end.

[https-casanova]

you’re laughing. they’re horrifically misinterpreting my favorite character’s personality and you’re laughing

[https-casanova]

— ✧*̣̩⋆̩☽⋆゜Having his leash in your hand, occasionally giving it little tugs in a way to signal him to thrust faster. He whines as his hands are bound behind his back, groaning loudly as you push yourself back on him to meet his thrust halfway. Not being able to touch you and hold your hips firmly in this position was taking a huge toll on him but he'd do anything just to please you, so he puts up with it for now. Surely, you'll reward him afterward for being good... right?

THOMA, ZHONGLI, KAEYA, DILUC, SAMPO, Luocha, Dan Heng, Gepard, Hex Haywire, Doppio Dropsycthe

[https-casanova]

quick reminder for those of us who do some podcast/fiction writing and amateur voice acting: if you get messages from producers about interest in your projects while the strike is on, do not answer. Do not cross the picket line!

[https-casanova]

Justice is blind

Warning: Contains imagery of execution

"Order! Order in the court!"

With a slam of the gavel, Furina silenced the rowdy courtroom.

As the restless jury and witnesses settled down, the Hydro Archon cleared her throat.

"Citizens of Fontaine!" Her usually authoritative voice showed signs of eagerness in it.

"Before you stands a criminal, nay, a heretic, with a crime so heinous that no court on Teyvat has a sentence for it: the taking of the All Divine's face!"

With a wave of her hand, the curtains surrounding the defendant's table unfurled themselves back to reveal a bound figure, kneeling between two bailiffs.

"As all devotees should know!" Furina pointed an accusing finger at the Imposter. "To impersonate the Creator is a crime of the highest magnitude! No sentence is too great for this heretic! However, fate has called upon the fair and just courts of Fontaine to judge this case! In the name of their Grace, we shall decide the most suitable punishment for this sinner, to enact the ultimate justice that will stand through all of time!"

Cheers erupted from the stands and jury box, drowning out the Imposter's pathetic whimper for salvation from behind the gag that silenced them.

Furina slammed the gavel down once more.

"Silence! This court is now in session! Neuvillette! Call the first witness!"

"When they first came to me, their face shined like the sun! It was almost blinding to look at!"

"Their voice soothed my heart and before I knew it, I followed their every command! There's foul magic at play, I just know it!"

"I've felt the Creator's holy presence before. I alongside others have traveled far to complete tasks in their glorious name and I know for a fact that this... abomination that stands before us can't be further from the Creator themselves! Your Majesty, surely you know what the aura of the Creator feels like!"

The courtroom was silent as all eyes fell upon their Archon, still deep in thought.

After a brief moment, Furina turned towards the courtroom and gave a sinister smile.

"I have decided the most fitting punishment for this Imposter! To the guillotine!

The fountain plaza was completely packed as almost all the people within the city gathered to see the momentous event.

Some chattered eagerly, some prepared their kameras to immortalize the instant the blade swung down, while others sat on mats and enjoyed a picnic.

Then, their Archon finally stepped onto the platform with a skip in her step.

"Witness me, Your Grace!"

Furina gleefully pranced around the restrained Imposter.

"Witness me, as I, Focalors, and the people of Fontaine, cleanse this beautiful world of its filthiest sinner, in your name!"

Before the Imposter could even say their last worlds, Furina's rapier slashed through the rope next to the guillotine, releasing its deadly payload.

As the blade soared down, Furina closed her eyes and felt utter ecstasy shudder through her body.

Chunk

Fwump

Furina heard something land in the basket in front of her. She had done it! The Divine Grace's face is sullied no longer!

Furina spread her arms wide open to welcome the cheers of her people-

But the celebration never arose.

An uncomfortable silence was all she heard as she slowly opened her eyes.

"What's wrong? This is a moment for celebration! Not-"

Furina stopped as her eyes wandered over to the guillotine, then down onto the liquid gold that stained its blade.

"Oh."

[https-casanova]

This fanfic I’m never going to write is really damn good.