#Day rambles about his muses

[zhongrin]

*taps mic* yes hi hello is this working. ahem ahem. testing one two three.

ah yes. we're back to normal now lol

..... were yall surprised ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )

long story short, i just wanted to do something for april fools… last year albedo made an appearance, so i thought of doing the same this year... but i felt like it would be repetitive. so given the recent developments and future events, this idea came up lol

in any case, it's the truth that i've been warming up to neuvillette.... i've been writing more for him, and if you saw my 2023 wrapped post you probably saw him as a 'runner-up'... and i really do mean it when i say he's been kinda occupying the back of my brain since last year hskdljfklsd at the end of his story quest... his tone when talking to kiara.... sobsob ueueue

however, i'm honestly still unsure if i can/want to have an actual selfship with him (ó﹏ò｡) i can't figure out how it'll work out yet... it just feels like with neuvillette's canon personality, he wouldn't even think of glancing my way in the first place, given the circumstances…. and zhongli... what do i do about him.... ough....

maybe he'll be a separate ship (e.g. zhongwrinth is one au, wrinlette in one au) on his own… maybe rinvillette will be a 'pining but not actually dating' kind of selfship.... idk..... on that note, i really should be making a selfship post huh lol

also, he's rerunning in less than 24 hours (like. 19 hours-ish for me) and i hoped this would be a sufficient offering for the hydro dragon to come home early… i'll play him twinkle twinkle little star on my guzheng while pulling or something, since it should arrive tomorrow afternoon lmao… i hope he likes the instrument that 'sounds like flowing water' hdlshdls

in any case, thank you for interacting in the short little event! it was more of a spontaneous decision on my part, but i hope you all had fun and i didn't butcher neuvillette's character too much, he's so hard to muse orz <3

lil doodle bonus of what could have been:

[thewindandthestars]

I love my soon to be husband very much. He is so pretty and has a lovely voice and just the most squishable cheeks that I could pepper in kisses always

Not only that but I love his love and his eyes and the way he looks good in any lighting. I love that he sings and plays an instrument. I love how confident he is but I also love seeing him more vulnerable. I love him wholly not only for the good parts of him but also for his flaws.

Truly it is so, so nice loving him and I'll forever be over the moon in love with him 💕

[aeolianblues]

was kinda thinking about this when I saw Renee Rapp live recently-- I didn't know her visual vibe, I'd heard a few songs here and there but I hadn't really *seen* her, and her attire at Osheaga was really casual, a jersey (baseball/basketball?) and slacks. And that was so amazing! I couldn't help thinking, the work Billie Eilish has done for how women in pop music are allowed to dress is incredible. Seeing her up there all comfortable you just know that Billie walked in her oversized tops so that Renee in her slacks could run; Billie walked through all the critcisms about how she dressed slobbily and having to assert that she didn't owe anyone a display of skin, so that Renee could be comfortable and unquestioned running up and down the catwalk in front of 10,000 people. How iconic.

And I don't think we even realised at the time how much something as simple as letting Billie dress the way she as a (then-) 17-year-old teenager dressed, could end up meaning for a future generation of women in music.

Obviously there is still way to go, there were weirdos complaining about how 'plain' Dua Lipa's Glastonbury outfit was this year (in 2024!!), l have to ask, are you at Paris Fashion Week?? She is the musical HEADLINER of an entire day of music at one of the biggest music festivals in the world, and you can't grant her the space to exist as an artist, you have to moan about her dress not being excitingly revealing enough. There's work to do, it's still dismal out there. But the space Billie Eilish has created for a most ordinarily-dressed woman popstar is still heartening.

[yeonban]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOBIAS! (24.05)

@effigist asked: / Tobias bday festivities ! this got long . my bad bestie

ash lingers in dark shadows cast down from the buildings surrounding the big celebration’s location , vigilantly observing from outside rather than daring to step in . he heard about tobias’ birthday a few days prior from some of his blabbermouth men who had timidly asked their leader if they could attend the big party dedicated to no other than the sharpest thorn in ash’s side . he responded with a dismissive scowl , grumbling something like do whatever the hell you want , while doing his best to seem as disinterested as possible . last thing he wanted was for the men to think he would be attending that hellish celebration - god , no , he’d rather get himself thrown in the slammer just to avoid it . in great contrast to his apparent dislike for the celebration , he nonetheless loitered outside for a good hour after showing up towards the end of the celebration , remaining out of sight until groups of people filed out from the doors &. ash concluded it was finally coming to its rightful end . about time . only when the detested birthday boy enters his line of sight , does the lurking predator step out from the shadows . though , instead of attacking or otherwise antagonizing tobias , he merely walks with an air of leisure &. casualty a teenaged gang leader had absolutely no business maintaining , before stopping at the dark haired teen’s side .

❝ you tired of gettin’ pampered like a snobby princess , yet ? ❞ a playful smirk tugs at the blonde’s lips , implying he must be in a decent mood . gingerly , his arm lifts &. stretches over tobias’ shoulder , although no contact is made . he merely keeps his limb hovering just above the point of contact , but close enough to where any bystander from a distance would be fooled . swiftly , ash’s nimble fingers drop a little plastic card into the other’s chest pocket . It’s a library card . ash is more than aware that the man could easily access any book of his choosing with his status , connections , money , &. influence , but he paid it no mind . once the sneaky exchange is completed , his arm lowers , but not before giving a slightly - too - hard - to - be - considered - a - pat smack into the back of tobias’ shoulder . ❝ better be careful around my guys until the clock strikes midnight , cinderella . they’ll give a loser like you a beatin’ for every year you’ve been alive . ❞ they won’t .

The birthday boy is one of the last to exit the building, animatedly chatting up the few who have chosen to continue their conversations with him even after the party has ended, and it's only when they're stepping down the outer stairs and the teen can feel a distant gaze intently focused on him that he steadily shepherds the guests towards the end of the conversation, shaking their hands and waving them goodbye before glancing in the direction of the gaze. Whatever he may have expected it to be caused by --- an ambush on his birthday or an informant returning to report their findings; the sight of Ash Lynx willingly approaching him had certainly not been it.

Tobias' expression doesn't change much, yet the surprise is apparent enough if one knows where to look for it. It hides in the sudden blink and the lingering stare as the blond threads closer, it crawls in the unspoken but palpable question of what's going on and in the quick yet subdued glance behind Ash as if to check whether the blond has either been coerced into it or sought him out with an urgent purpose in mind. Grey eyes return to look into the jade pair and yet none of these possibilities seem to have quite hit the mark. Ash's smirk isn't gloomily sarcastic nor does his body language speak of anxieties or woes, and there is nothing whatsoever to indicate that he's come here in a hurry. If anything, he appears to have either been on a stroll to this location, or been hiding nearby for a while.

Tentatively testing the waters, Tobias' lips curl into a matching grin, carefully watching each of the gang leader's movements. ❛ Ash? You could've told me you were dropping by, you know. I'd have ditched the others way earlier if I'd known you're around. ❜ The subsequent close proximity is as shocking as the other's presence near the celebration's location and Tobias almost opts to jokingly remark on it when the corners of his eyes catch a glimpse of a thin card delicately sliding into his chest pocket. Hm...? ❛ What, you got me a gift, too? ❜ This may have counted as a teasing comment had the exchange taken place on another day and for the first few seconds Tobias even means it as such, but with Ash's jesting and the deliberate secrecy surrounding the gift-giving, as if this display of cordiality has the potential to be ruinous to the blond's image, Tobias can't help but reach into his pocket and bring the alleged present into his field of vision. A gift? Really?

He doesn't bother inquiring from where Ash has learned of his birthday, he'd expected as much with anyone worth their damn being able to find out about it one way or the other, but the sequence of events following that has barely been considered a priori, imagined as unlikely from the get go and thus unworthy of being thought about; yet it appears his calculations have, shockingly enough, been slightly off the mark. He'd figured Ash would accept hanging out with him if he approached the blond after the fussy festivities were wrapped up (if begrudgingly so), but had he misjudged how challenging it would be for them to reach this point of vague friendship, back during their first few meetings? Or had Ash just coincidentally felt generous on this occasion?

The library card that graces his eyes once he fishes the present out of his pocket might seem as nothing much to most in his position, but Tobias grows troublingly quiet at the sight, the grin on his face slowly dissipating into a thin line; neither annoyed, nor upset --- but rather, cognizant. Under normal circumstances it would take nothing more than a name and an address for such a plastic card to be issued, and it could very well pass as a friendly insult, jokingly implying the receiver should open a book for once, but in their situation it's a calculated effort, and quite an effort he's sure it has been. False identities such as his own come bearing little documentation, or if there is any available it certainly wouldn't be at everyone's discretion, so the existence of a library card with Tobias' name on it hints at a far grander and more complicated process than the regular person would give it credit for, and it seems the blond has deemed him worth the trouble, despite the older teen having indirectly offered Ash a way out of the mandatory gift-giving by not inviting him to the celebration.

Yet perhaps even more baffling still is another minor detail, something so subtle that it would have passed entirely unnoticed had it been anyone but Tobias attempting to grasp its meaning, or had he not been as attentive to Ash's lifestyle and habits as he chose to be. A detail he is more than certain represents a major step in their relationship, and one which signifies a degree of trust (whether conscious or subconscious) that he hasn't been expecting to receive for at least another year of incessantly bothering the blond. Being offered access to Ash's last safe haven, by the gang leader himself.

The silence continues while Tobias stares at the gift in muted incredulity, unsure of how exactly to react to any of the rapid fire surprises this simple choice of presents has flooded him with. Is it a code for something? No, Ash seems to be having a good day, there is probably no reason for him to ask Tobias to meet him at the library for a secret conversation. If so, is he going to request or demand something? No, also unlikely given the ease with which Tobias already offers him everything. There'd be no point in going the extra mile for something he could receive for free while doing nothing.

Is Ash really just reaching out to him of his own volition? That almost seems more doubtful than the previous possibilities, but unless the younger teen is a greater actor than all of the ones Tobias has met... he doesn't seem to be the sort to harbor ulterior motives or take advantage of others without first being given a reason to; and the orphan would like to think he hasn't done anything egregious enough to the gang leader or his men to warrant that. Ash's honesty is one of the traits he values about the other, after all (quite the rarity in their field of work, for better or worse) and what a shame it would be for him to senselessly lose the privilege of knowing for a fact that Ash's words and behaviors are always connected to the definitive truth.

Although there is an ongoing dispute in his mind, Ash's remark doesn't pass by unnoticed; bringing a familiar tint of amusement in the otherwise uncertain state of affairs. Paired with the quizzical gift in hand, it brings the smirk back onto Tobias' face, if a tad more hesitant than it had been before, and it prompts him to turn to look at the other again. How should he react now? Where do they stand, if not where he'd thought they did? Should he wait and see, or should he outright ask? ❛ ......Then, prince charming, how about you act as my bodyguard 'til I'm safe from harm and ready to depart? Midnight is still a long way off, but surely your macho men won't think to lift a finger on someone as frail as me with you around to keep them at bay, ❜ Perhaps slowly prodding is the way to go, if he's learned anything from Ash's lethal allergies to appearing vulnerable. He'll always have the time to ask later, if the moment is ever opportune enough, and maybe there won't even be a need for that after observing Ash's behavior for a while longer.

Lifting his free arm, Tobias leisurely brings it 'round the lynx's shoulders as the other had done to him prior, except he lets his arm come into contact with Ash's shoulders while slowly poking him with the library card present in the other hand. It's a blithe touch, one blatantly meant for gauging where he stands with the other rather than an attempt at rudely breaking into his personal space, and one he had been very careful not to engage in prior to this day despite physical contact being the brunette's go-to when interacting with practically everyone else.

However... with all of the surprises already sent his way, and particularly so with the confounding (albeit indirect) openness Ash has showed him today, it might as well be the best moment to check what boundaries he's currently kept at, and figure things out from there. Will he be shrugged or pushed off as he'd previously figured it'd happen, or will Ash allow him this sort of friendly touch, and surprise him for a fourth time? ❛ And while you're at it, how about you show me to the library, too? I could use some new book recommendations. Who knows, maybe you'll even find that I'm a pretty good reading buddy to have. ❜ The request can easily pass as a debonair way of bringing Ash along for the ride, but with the lengths Tobias has gone to not encroach into the library for as long as it had been Ash's turf, the assistance with maneuvering inside the humongous building might actually be helpful.

[dnangelic]

i just woke up so idk how coherent this'll even be but last night i practically fell asleep thinking abt the trend of dai being confronted by his youth and feeling out of place for it in one way or another. on one hand he definitely can recognize himself as still young and having lots of space still to grow, so he's more than willing to defer to and obey adults or seek guidance and lesson from them, but at the same time this is a kid with an extremely bizarre and intensely demanding upbringing. daisuke has been raised right at the cusp of death all the time. he's gotten nearly fatal injuries just from his training. within his more intimate circles, he's used to everyone constantly counting on him as 'the only one' instead of setting him aside. his father has been absent essentially up until recently, his mother absolutely adores him but is also the one overbearing him on the family destiny and his 'duty' as a phantom thief, and even his grandfather strictly emphasizes how daisuke, as the sole niwa child, was the only one that could do become dark. there's so much responsibility placed onto him all the time, which, again, lucifer thematic. child-king sized burdens that connect him immediately to dark's decision to betray the hikari and take responsibility for the artworks after the cultural revolution.

[tvrningout]

peeking in to say i'm sorry for saying i was gonna be here and then not being here!! i keep getting headaches lately that take me out of commission bc it gets really hard to concentrate ;v; even now i'm fighting one, and i wanna fight my own body for giving me so much trouble asdf but!! i'm at least working on my muse lists, so there's that :' )

speaking of which, i'm gonna remove tsugumi and miyuna for now bc it's been hard to find muse for them for ages, and until i get that muse back, i'm just gonna stick to writing chiyo and kaiya's jjk verses. those two are pretty easy to find muse for uvu i'm also going to officially add back my kny muses, with the exception of chinatsu and sei! even though i've yet to post what i've written, my muse is still high enough that i should be able to write everybody, even if i'm a lil rusty. yuzusa, kojirou, yoshiaki, and yubari will also be removed for the time being.

that's it for now!! i hope everyone's having a lovely week, and i promise to try and be here more this weekend <3

[silverselfshippingchaos]

welp... he's on the f/o list now!

[masquenoire]

Contrary to most backstories where Roman carved his original mask from his father’s coffin, this Roman instead carved it from his mother’s. Mrs. Sionis despised him much more vehemently than her husband, who merely regarded their child with uninterested disdain at best and so Roman deliberately defiled her coffin out of spite, knowing she would have absolutely hated him using her wood for his face.

[hyaciiintho]

🌸｡*ﾟ+. I think for all intent and purposes, I'll be referring to P as... well... "P" in all his tags and whatnot. Try to keep things as spoiler free as I possibly can on here. At least for a few months? I'll try to tag "Lies of P Spoilers" in things that have spoilers, though when it comes to writing in certain verses (post-game), I can say with 100% certainty that... it'll be incredibly spoilery c': So... warning on that front, if anyone cared and wanted to play the game themselves if they hadn't yet. If anyone wanted any other specific tag to use (because the general spoiler tag is kinda used by the fandom in general dfghujkdf), I can make one people can blacklist so they don't get spoiled!

Also, his google doc is probably gonna be hella spoilery, so if people just want to interact with an in-game verse (like beginning to mid-ish timeline) then they're free to request whatever information for him for that via DMs! But I think imma get started on his doc soon (after I fill my queue with other stuff) because... I'm excited to use him and I have the PERFECT FC's for him to use~

[emersonlogan]

who: sonny & [OPEN] ! what: reworking his game plan after spending all of orientation doing guerrilla marketing for margot rowe’s living bard’s society presidential campaign instead of formally reuniting with his friends and/or working on the relationships he’s supposed to be forging if he wants to do what he came to cherry to do ! where: the ccu cafeteria !

Sonny worked on the docks for a few years, back in San Francisco. 

The other workers used to tease a group of old sailors-turned-fishermen, who were always driveling on about their neurotic superstitions. The fishermen wouldn’t set sail against a red sunrise, because that meant a storm is coming. They all had gold hoops piercing their ears, not because they were hip, but because it was supposedly good luck to have some gold in you. They said redheads weren’t allowed on their ships, because they were usually soulless Pagans. Women were dangerous to have on board, because they’d distract the crew; but statues of women on the outside of the ship were good luck, because nothing calmed the sea gods like the sight of a topless lady on the bow. Whistling was bad luck, because it took a fool’s hubris to challenge the wind. You couldn’t set sail on a Friday, because that was the day of the week that Jesus died, nor the first Monday in April, which is the day that Cain killed his brother Abel, nor the second Monday in August, which is the day that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, nor December 31, which is the day that Judas Iscariot committed suicide. Tattoos were lucky, and the fact that they looked badass was just an incidental bonus. Albatrosses were unlucky, because of some arbitrary poem a guy wrote in the 1700′s. And, god, bananas? Total shit-sucking catastrophes, the devil’s final yellow omens; keep them as far away from the ship as possible, and don’t you dare ask why; the simple act of mentioning them could compromise the whole voyage. 

It made sense, though, the more Sonny thought about it while watching the freaky geezers pour wine all over their decks for good luck. He figured that the sea was such a powerful, scary, deadly, unpredictable frontier, with no one around to save them if something went wrong on the ship. They were completely at the mercy of something greater than themselves. Of course they would do anything to keep themselves from getting psyched out. They were challenging something too mighty to wrap their heads around, venturing into an infinite expanse filled with unspeakable evil.

Sitting down at an empty table in the CCU cafeteria, he rubs one of his ear lobes between his thumb and pointer finger and wonders if Clarissa Teller would know anybody who could give him a little gold hoop piercing.

Sonny drops his stuff on the seat beside him and glances down at the last few flyers he had to terrorize the campus with — ♡ Vote Margot! ♡  

When the eyes of this woman he’s never met before today stare back at him, he has to ask himself how he jumped headfirst into this mission without stopping to ask if Ted Lewis was running for the same spot. Remember Ted, Sonny? That’s the guy who you’re actually supposed to be building a relationship with. He never even stopped to consider it, not consciously. Just committed himself to a chipper stranger he had no baggage or tension with. It was always in his nature to throw his heart and soul into random ventures completely on a whim, but he knew he wasn’t doing this in the name of impulsive philanthropy. It would be nice to see a sweetie like Margot win— he’s never found an underdog he wouldn’t root for— but he knew he was doing this to procrastinate the real mission that brought him back to Cherry. 

In the most charitable explanation, he was doing this to get his mojo up to snuff before he got down to business with his old friends. He couldn’t function like a good little detective with the way his heart sunk like an anchor every time he saw a familiar dimple of someone he left in the dust, or heard about any more ways the gangs’ lives changed for the worse since he betrayed and abandoned them. He’s hiding ulterior motives from them all over again, he’s still lying to them about what he did to the Freeses, and some of them — including sweet, hopeless Mac, of all people — he’s completely using, building up their trust with the endgame of taking advantage of them the same way he did Scott. It’s hard to keep his head in the game when he’s so busy feeling like a nasty little devil. He has to psyche himself up and get to work before the incomprehensible evil that lurks in Cherry decides to reveal something he doesn’t need people to know. He needs to ease his conscience, feel like he’s boosted his karma, and remind himself of who he is despite his dirty, dirty deeds. 

He can’t just focus on karma or luck, though. He only has a chance to save Libby for as long as he’s safe and trusted around town, and he can’t waste time on random crusades for outside parties. He’s at the mercy of some treacherous greater power that could expose him at any second, and he needs to move faster than the tides. Spiritually, he did some good work today, but he needs to do something that matters in a tangible way. Compromising with himself, he decides to do something that will get his investigation moving even if he isn’t ready to talk to the gang yet: he should do some work for Ted’s campaign now.

He folds up the last few Margot Rowe flyers and moves to shove them into his bag, but his boney elbow accidentally knocks over a salt shaker in the process. Before he even registers it, his hands are raking up the spilled salt and tossing it over his shoulder without taking a split second to see if anybody was behind him. He goes back to sticking the flyers in his bag and pulls out a spiral notebook and ballpoint pen, blissfully unaware that he just threw a handful of teeny-tiny white rocks into some poor schmuck’s face. He bites the cap off of the pen and starts drafting his first groundbreaking slogan idea: TED 4 BIG BARD.

[pirateborn-a]

Not me crying thinking how nice to would be if ghost roger kinda talked with his young son. Not me getting emotional over this

     No but like So true!!  Roger does try to stick with Ace,,, watches his son grow up hating him and being hated for behind his and unable do anything about it or comfort him??  And like     Roger loves Garp he trusts the man and knows he’s a good person but also worstie what the fuck-          he gets it, he’s known garp long enough to know how he thinks and he gets it and he never meant for garp to have guardianship over Ace but For the love of the Sea what is he doing to his son--

      But def whenever his ghost’s around Ace Roger would try to talk to him, tries to tell happy stories from his voyages, tries to talk about his crew, tries to talk about his mother and how wonderful Rouge was and how much she loves him, how much roger loves him            just,      i am very normal about roger seeing the consequences of his actions yet unable to do something about it,

[entityforged]

for the record this is still ongoing and it’s still annoying i think he just straight up hates to be questioned

[aequitaes]

plotted starter for, @sicsemper and one (1) husband, alhaitham

𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔. How was he supposed to do that without knowing what it was? Kaveh's heart raced at the moment of reflection, and his cheeks met a faint dusting of pink, but one thing he was great at - was deflecting. In response to comments about how Alhaitham was brought up in every conversation, he never considered or shared that it might not be suitable to do that - even with a best friend.

To be constantly aware of them, to think of them, and to consider things that were second nature to their way of life and routines. A particular alignment of place mats or shoes, his favourite mug, coffee blend, and bringing home food to ensure he ate. Several elements of care went beyond what was agreed on when he took up residence here. If Kaveh were to be honest with himself... it was something he always knew but never entirely expressed.

Was it just guilt from the past? A friendship they once had?

Was that a case of him not believing he was deserving of anything good? Based on the belief that he broke his family apart, he would self-sabotage himself - jeopardizing something unmoving, unchanging? They offered stability to each other regardless of what Alhaitham was to him. So, was it worth the risk? Could this have the potential to make matters worse?

Likewise, he might risk making things more difficult if he never expressed these feelings - annoyed by Alhaitham's lack of communication. Should he? Is he the one who should speak first? 

Maybe he should take the initiative for once; I'm often the one who initiates conversations... granted, they don't always proceed smoothly. 

However, he already knew what the answer was to his own statement. To proceed, this would have to be on his shoulders. His knowledge of Alhaitham had some flaws, but those flaws sometimes proved beneficial and vice versa for both of them.

Everything, good and bad, from the day they met to the near moments, the glances and brief exchanges in their youth which slowly built the foundation for their friendship. In addition to the more common bickering, there was also laughter, even if it was briefly exchanged. It warmed him to see him smile at times—"Alhaitham!" His determination was evident as he stepped into the house. "Alhaitham, I need to speak with you." Based on a quick survey, it would seem he wasn't in the shared space or at his desk. The bedroom. Approaching with confidence - for now and, in politeness, he knocks. But the door is ajar, but he rarely enters without permission and always announces his presence.

[cregansdingdong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: pregnancy fluff, the tooth rotting kind <3

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“There you are.”

There he was. Watching from the threshold of their marriage doors—the only separation between their traditional chambers—Cregan gazes over the form of his bare wife, who was enjoying a nice bath in her alcove. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking her in and committing her to his memory like it was the very first time. A sleepy smile graced her perfect face, head leaned back against the edge of the tub. Just barely breaking the surface of the water was her stomach, rounded and taut with his child; her wrist had been resting on it as he entered, a letter held loosely in her hand. “I am.” He murmured, feeling himself relax just at the sight of her, and he crossed the room to sit on the chair by the tub. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. Jace wrote to me.” She holds out the small paper to him. Cregan hums at the mention of her brother, and his eyes scan the words on the page, quietly snorting after a few moments of reading—he was as funny as he always was. Nothing new, really, in the letter. He’d mostly asked about how his sister was faring, questions about the pregnancy, and gushing over his coming nuptials to Baela. But it all brought a smile to his wife’s face anyway. Cregan felt guilty sometimes, knowing how far Winterfell was from King’s Landing. She missed her family often, but even more now that she was having a child. “He’s eager to be an uncle.” He muses, handing it back to her. “The second he learns the babe is born, he’ll be outside our quarters pouting.”

“Yes he will.” She laughs and places it off to the side. “Only a few weeks more.” Cregan peers down at her stomach, expression softened now, his hand reaching out to gently pet her bump, fingers caressing the skin. “The water is almost cold.” He notes, a slight chide in his tone. His wife nods along, obviously aware. “Mmhm. The maesters say hot baths aren’t too good for the baby—warm is fine, but it becomes tepid fairly quickly. I’m comfortable though, I promise. Supper was divine. I was craving that stew all day. And grapes, but mostly the stew. I missed you.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips at her soft ramble. He loved hearing her speak—just as much as she liked to prattle his ears blue. “I assure you, wife, I missed you even more. You and our babe. How is she doing?”

“Are you truly still convinced we're going to have a girl?” She muses. Cregan gently splashes her in mock offense, tutting lightly at her teasing. “I know we're having a girl. I can feel it in my bones, wife.” He leans in, pressing a less-than-chaste kiss against her mouth, tongue just barely slivering past her supple lips. She tasted like something sweet. “Cake?” He asks, head tilted even though it wasn't really a question. She grins. “Sara brought the letter up here—and sneaked me some frosted scones from the kitchen. I love your sister.” Cregan rolls his eyes. “I should've known you two would scheme behind my back…and not leave me any. I'm your leige-Lord.” His wife reaches out to pull him in again, not satisfied with the previous kiss, and their mouths clash together nearly with a mutual clack of their teeth. "Get in." She was pulling him down into the jasmine scented water, hands fiercely tugging at the laces of his leather doublet. "This water is so damn cold—" He barely had a moment to remove his boots. "You'll be fine." What Lady Stark wants, she gets.

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[wrioluvr]

text messages with your cute sub yandere boyfriend ☆

cw: reader is implied to have a cock, no pronouns used, fingering (yandere receiving), kinda wholesome

[name'swhore]: darling!! i changed my username for you!! do you like it?? (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭♡ [name'swhore]: darling....? (;´Д`) [name'swhore]: please answer me...... (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) [name'swhore]: ...... [name'swhore]: *audio message of him crying* (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) [name]: damn bitch i'm at work i'll ttyl [name'swhore]: bitch? can you say that again? (,,o//o,,) [name]: ........bitch? [name'swhore]: i just fingered myself to your message.... please call me your bitch more often. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ [name]: ooookaaayyyyyyy.

feeling like teasing him a little, you smirk as you type out the next message. you imagine the expression he makes as he reads it.

[name]: want me to do it for you when i get back? [name'swhore]: do what? (´･ω･`)? [name]: finger you. [name'swhore]: ... [name'swhore]: YES. yes. yes. please. a million times yes. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ [name]: be good and i will. and no hole pics. i almost got fired last time because i opened your message in front of my boss. [name'swhore]: right. sorry. please don't be mad. (´ε｀；) [name]: send me another hole pic and i won't fuck you for a month. [name'swhore]: I'M SORRY!!!!!!! (˃̣̣̥△˂̣̣̥)

work was tiring today. you laid on your bed staring at the ceiling of your room, musing over a difficult customer you had to deal with hours prior. your serene expression was contrasted by your boyfriend's flushed face, who was currently curled up into a ball by your side, squirming as his tight hole was being ravaged by your tender fingers. you knew all his sweet spots, being able to ruin him even without fully paying attention. a rather loud moan brought you back from your thoughts, forcing you to be made aware of the mess your boyfriend had made all over your bed. the boyfriend in question was also currently lying face down, breathing heavily, trying to recover his composure. his hole continuously puckered as you pulled your fingers out, causing him to shudder. out of the corner of his eye, he peeked at you, upon seeing your unimpressed expression, trailed his eyes down to look at your crotch.

"you're not even hard...." he observed, not bothering to hide the obvious dismay in his voice. "are you... are you sick of me?" his mind races to find anything he could have done wrong. "i won't send you any more nudes unsolicited! i'll... i'll pick you up from work everyday!! i'll let you abuse my hole-"

"you let me do that already...."

"....i...i don't know!! uh..."

"god, calm down. i'm just not really in the mood today. sorry...." you decide to be nice and pat his head comfortingly as he lies back down, exhausted. "you want to hear about my day at work?"

he nods frantically, perking back up as he listens intently to your rambles. although he was a bit of a pathetic slut, domestic life with him was nice. maybe you'd fuck him properly next time...

[solbaby7]

Good Enough to Eat

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: porn with little plot, the less obvious take on size-kink, swearing, minors DNI, size kink, implied pre-existing friendship with almost in a relationship/mated undertones? whatever tickles ur fancy, prolly typos

summary: Azriel never really took a notice to little things—until you.

—

If Azriel was being honest with himself, he could admit he’d gotten carried away.

He just hadn’t remembered ever noticing it before—how large his frame was in comparison to a female. Not until you came around with a body too small to put into words with five times as much fire inside to make up for it.

He'd lost count of how many times his mind had wandered to less than savory places in your presence; fixating on the strain of your neck when peering up to look him in the eye as you rambled on about your day. A low hum of distant acknowledgment rumbles through his chest, an attempt to seem like he was paying attention to the words coming of your mouth instead of fixating on the inviting plush of your lips. "Az, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course," A lie saturated in sweet honey and presented on a golden platter but you eat it up all the same, smiling up at him with a knowing look buried in your iris. "Keep going."

There's a brief pause--a hesitation where you contemplate questioning that faraway look etched in his features. You decide against it, shaking it off with a little laugh before continuing where you left off.

Azriel hangs onto every quirk of your lip, the etherial glow that emanated from your form as the midday sun bristles through thin curtains. Such glorious beauty enhanced by the abyss of black that draped enticingly over your chest, twisting and crossing at your midriff until it blended seamlessly into the flowy little skirt that teased at your thighs.

He drinks in every inch of bared skin, fingers clenching into fists of barely contained want when picturing those legs thrown over his shoulders with your body propped against any surface sturdy enough to withstand your weight and his mouth buried between your...

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

A mix of guilt and embarrassment should burn in Azriel's chest for being caught not paying attention but with his brain so lost in the clouds, the truth just seems to spill right out. "You're so cute." A blush grows at the apples of your cheeks, neck jerking forward just a little to push your hair against your face to hide but Azriel has already seen it—already grown addicted to it and yearns for more. "Like a little doll. Makes me want to carry you around everywhere and see how high I can throw you."

"I've killed men three times your size."

"Even cuter, a murderous little kitten."

Your nose scrunches, lips poking into a pout and when your arms raise to cross at your chest in defiance. Azriel nearly groans with need, mouth salivating at the thought of marking that skin with endless reminders of who you belonged to. “I’m far from feline and I’m not little.”

Azriel’s brow raises in silent challenge, his hands moving before he can second guess himself and in an instant you become weightless. The surprised cry that pulls free is instinctual when you’re thrown about, limbs grasping at open air for purchase. “I don’t know,” He muses, catching you and flipping you over his back with an annoying ease. “You feel like lightwork to me.”

To and fro he twists you about, a bright smile stamped on his mouth when your frightened shouts shift into unrestrained giggles and grabby hands for stability. “Azriel,” The syllables are broken up from your choppy breaths, cheeks red and thoughts scrambled. “Put me down.”

“Put you down? I hadn’t even noticed I picked you up to begin with.”

“Azriel,” You repeat, more urgency in your cadence when you feel the soft fabric of your skirts teasing up the smooth length of your legs. “I’m serious—my dress!”

“What a dress it is,” The calloused drag of his hand is sinful when sliding its way up the back of your leg, working the material up, up, up until the chilled breeze from the opened window hits your exposed flesh. “I’m a little more interested in whats under it though.” A low groan pulls from his chest when his golden gaze eats up the pale blue pair of sheer panties. Azriel could feel the thin grip he had on his restraint slipping until nothing was left in his grasp but the hypnotizing malleability of your ass. “Not so little down here, huh?”

You should tell him to stop.

You could easily use that training Cassian taught you to wiggle from Azriel’s hold and throw him to the ground as reparations.

But like the whore you are, your hips raise ever so slightly, urging his inquiring touch to shift a few inches further. “Not sure if I can say the same about you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle rumbles against your belly, his nose training up the exposed curve of your hip before he’s shifting you once more. It’s more careful this time—his hand placement more intentional when sliding you down his front, hooking your legs at his hips until you’re forced to meet his eye. “Are you brave enough to find out?”

Breath hitches, snippy words caught in the back of your throat as Azriel crossed this imaginary line drawn in the sand with all of these implicating touches. You swear your heart is fixing to lurch from your chest from the anticipation of it all, thighs clenching tighter around his waist and before you can restrain yourself—hips roll against the hard bulge straining against his breeches. “Guess so,” You utter back, pupils blown out and fingers starting their exploration in the softness of Azriel’s messy ebony strands.

A groan pulls from his throat, grip tightening at your waist and with two steps your back is braced up against the wall. Azriel’s movements are a little sloppy in his eagerness, fingers catching on crossed fabric but it doesn’t seize his exploration of you. Warm palms skim over the length of your stomach, slowing over the tantalizing swell of your breasts. “I think about these a lot.” Azriel confesses shamelessly, voice rough with want; the fan of his breath against such sensitive skin forcing a shiver down your spine. “Seems almost unnatural for such a little thing like you to have these less than little assets. You make it hard for me to get things done around here.”

Your brains a little foggy, clouded with pure lust and distracted by the concentration it takes to maintain the steady rock of your hips against the clothed cock between your thighs. “I’d say sorry but—Azriel.”

Dark promise is etched into every stunning feature when he slowly works a thumb over the length of your bottom lip. It must be instinctual, the way his tongue traces over his own in sync. “This mouth of yours has nearly gotten you in this same position dozens of times.” Need pools in your underthings, seeping through flimsy material and dragging deliciously against your clit with each desperate rut. You barely notice when the golden warmth of the library fades into the cool darkness of Azriel’s room.

It only adds to the lusty delirium, his scent engulfing you like a wave and finally his lips press against yours. Twin moans fill the silence, curious shadows following their masters command in easing your hair from your shoulders and sliding the straps of your dress free.

Every touch feels like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

His tongue in your mouth, your hands tangled in his hair while his shadows blocked out the rest of the world until nothing was left but Azriel and you. “Nearly dozens?” You breathlessly repeat, neck craning to offer more space for the myriad of marks he intended to place there. “What took you so long?”

Insecurity. Cowardice. A million different reasons had stopped Azriel from ever daring opening this door but now that the knob has been turned and the threshold breached—he was happily trapped; proud to be held prisoner as long as you desired. “Who cares? I’ve got you now.”

Melting into him is as easy as breathing, kisses desperate and hands heated when tugging off any offending clothing without breaking the connection.

Years of exposure to Azriel in the training ring prepares you plenty to see his bare abdomen and the densely packed muscles that’s housed there. The rest, however, has your mouth watering, teeth biting into your bottom lip when the heavy weight of his cock settles teasingly between your legs. “Is that what you want? To have me?” He doesn’t bother with words, only nodding once as his mouth is entirely too occupied learning the shape of your breasts and the noises that sound when his teeth graze at hardened peaks. “Then, please stop teasing before I handle this myself.”

Probably the wrong choice of words, even if they are harmless and fueled by errant desire.

“Handle it yourself?” A surprised noise escapes you when the position is swiftly shifted, Azriel’s back now propped against the headboard and his arms don’t even shake when bearing the brunt of your weight. “I’d love to see you try.” The smug expression he bears is slightly worrisome and yet you don’t resist when the weeping tip of his cock is rubbed against your folds, slipping between and easing inside.

“Fuckkk,” The word drags off your tongue, lids shut and lashes fluttering from the pleasure of it all—you felt so full. So unbelievably full that all you can do is whimper your praise and hope that your body was able to handle what you were going to put it through.

Azriel knew he’d gotten carried away.

You just sounded so pretty. Looked well on your way to being so perfectly ruined with your hair splayed messily down your shoulders as you struggled to take the full length of him, even with arousal dripping onto the satin sheets. “You’re squeezing me too tight,” Azriel croons soothingly, attempting to ease the tremble of your calves with the slow drag of his palms. “Gotta breathe, baby.”

It’s easier said than done and after a few seconds of trying to force your lungs to do their fucking jobs, you ditch the efforts altogether and delegate to more pressing matters.

Azriel doesn’t anticipate your determination but he falls harder when your brows furrow with the effort, a deep groan rumbling right through him when your hips go flush with his own.

You barely give yourself time to adjust, too eager after finally being granted all you’d desired. It’s almost as if there’s all the time in the world and still not enough time at all when Azriel’s sat so sturdy beneath you, his eyes raking up every inch of your body and committing it to memory. “There you go,” He praises with hands on your hips to guide the lewd movements. “Just like that, perfect girl.”

You all but preen under the worship, hypnotized by the devilish rasp he adopts and everything combined ignites a dangerous desire to please.

To give and give and give until there was nothing left but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when the process felt so godsdamned good. “Az, I’m so close.” The coil in your gut grows unbearable, the steady rhythm you’d maintained begins to falter but Azriel’s quick to pick up where you’ve left off, hips bucking up into you over and over and over until one orgasm blends into the other. Every muscle goes pliant, curling around him like a lifeline as he takes his fill.

You can barely remember your name when his release follows, his chest glistening and hair in complete disarray when plopping down to the mattress, easing you beside him.

There’s a moment of awkward silence where you suddenly aren’t sure where to put your hands. Is this the part where you were supposed to leave?

When you can finally move your legs again, you make a move to slip from the warmth of the covers, bare toes skimming the harsh bite of hardwood floors when Azriel stops you with one hand is gently curled around your arm. The deep navy sheets are lazily covering his lower half and it’s near impossible to drag your eyes away from the sharp cut of his physique now that you know what it felt like up close. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“It’s the middle of the day, I still have so much to do—I should get going.”

“Blow it off,” It’s almost embarrassing how easily you melt into the request, sinking into the way he tugs you back into him, shadows tucking you securely under the covers. “I’m not finished with you yet.”