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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 months

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Rage Becomes Her

Aemond x bastardTargaryen!female

Summary: of all the Targaryen bastards he could have underestimated, it should not have been her | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings: smut, Aemond being a fat douche, mentions of sex work, angst, oc described as having Targaryen features

No day was as cursed as the day her mother looked between her bloodied thighs, glancing up at the faces of her friends and common women, with shame and fright. The babe between her legs was pink and crying, their skin glistening with afterbirth, and a tuft of silver hair atop their tiny head.

What was survival, when the Gods had bestowed a Targaryen bastard into her belly.

Her own daughter lived as her mother did, learning the ways of the body and pleasure. She could recall the first time a man leered at her. Only two and ten and barely formed into the shape of a woman. Somehow the silver sheen to her hair made men think they could have her before her ripening. Plucked from the tree too early.

If only her mother could have resisted the irresistible pull of greed. Purses of gold coins lined her pockets, paid to her with the virtue of her only daughter.

An income. Nothing more.

It was only when she died, that she formed her own protection. Madame Sylvi gave her more freedoms than the usual whores. Bestowed upon as her ‘choice’. Something she had known little.

The brothel was tucked away in one of the narrow, winding alleys of King's Landing, a hidden enclave where nobles and commoners alike sought the pleasures denied to them in the light of day. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the low murmur of whispered promises. Sweet ones, from between the lips of whores.

The men who paid for the service or fucking a young woman with silver hair were usually all the same. Drunken fools with egos far bigger than their cocks, eager to stick whatever they pleased between her legs to make themselves feel like men.

She rarely spared it much thought. She moaned sweetly and whispered hushed mutterings to inflate their already fragile masculinity. Did what she had to do to survive, like so many around her.

But she would be remiss not to think about her most recent patron. One whom she had stolen from Madame Sylvi, who did not seem particularly precious about the loss, seeing as the One Eyed Prince simply crossed the threshold to her room instead. As long as business was within her four walls, she was content.

He was, at first, quiet and required work and effort to calm his fraught and tense muscles. But like most men, the second he sheathed himself inside her, he was a man driven by the inescapable warmth of not only her cunt, but by the comfort of what it provided. However false.

The night is seared firmly into her memory. His body heavy with Milk of the Poppy, he staggered as he pulled his clothes off, and for some time he was unable to become hard due to its calming effects. And she saw the familiar pang of annoyance most men got when their fleshy counterparts would not do as the mind commanded.

She will never forget the look upon his face as she knelt in front of him, took his heavy manhood in her palm and pressed her lips to the shaft, stroking upwards with her touch and tongue. Beneath him like this, his face angled and sharp, one could be mistaken he was a statue. His skin resembled such porcelain. Made smooth by the hands of the Gods themselves.

He had looked upon her as if she were an entity of the Seven Heavens. And when she took him into her mouth, his breath hitched, and his hands instinctively tangled in her hair. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and relief that washed over him in waves.

She moved with an expert's grace, her rhythm steady and unhurried, drawing soft moans from his lips. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist; there was only the warm, wet heat of her mouth and the exquisite torture of her tongue. He closed his eye, surrendering to the pleasure, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away. Aemond's grip tightened as he guided her movements, lost in the sensation and the raw intimacy of the act.

He fucked in very much the same way. With urgency. As if someone were to take her away.

Was it some necessity this great man needed, away from the bustling court and the duties of his birth?

Or she reasoned he fucked her because he was simply bored of Sylvi.

But as it became more and more regular, she began to realise that her forbidden parentage played a more significant role than she had first thought. He wanted someone who looked so like his ideal, but someone who ultimately was destined to remain, steadfastly, inferior.

Aemond Targaryen pushed open the heavy wooden door, its creak swallowed by the hum of conversation and laughter inside. He pulled his hood lower, shielding his face from prying eyes. Though he was a prince, here he was just another man seeking escape. Several women crowded him, offering wine, their bodies and services with doe eyes and lips framed with rouge.

The back of the brothel was shrouded with silken curtains, providing no real privacy but rather giving one the security of feeling it. Pale pinks, lilacs, warm amber glows bounced off the stone walls, a warm emanating through the space as if walking through honey, and willing to be drowned in it. It was a dangerous feeling indeed. The warm, sticky call of a woman’s body.

The first time he saw her he did not like her. The whore with silver, golden hair. She had a bastard’s taint on her bloodline despite its noble sheen. There was a part of him that refused to admit that despite the muddied nature of her birth, that she was beautiful. He was still willing to be held by Sylvi back then, cuddled against the woman’s breasts like a babe.

It was different now.

Sylvi regarded him, using her body as somewhat of a shield, to part him and the heavenly depravity that lay across the threshold. She said nothing, and simply extended her hand, to show her palm. Aemond noted the surprised look in her knowing eyes when she felt the weight of the purse, the familiar tune of coins ringing true and greedily.

She fetched a hefty price compared to the others. One Aemond was willing to pay for her company.

When he pulled the silks aside and stepped within her lair, she was seated as usual, upon a chaise draped with rich fabrics, her posture relaxed and yet alert. Her hair, so much like his own, caught the flickering candlelight, like looking up to the stars when one was too deep in their cups, only to find the silver light stretching across their vision.

Only the muffled music was heard, and the rapid thud of his heart.

The fabrics lay like water on her skin, cinched at her waist. The translucent material had her rosy buds perk beneath it, the glimmering and blushing shade of pink almost alike to her own flesh in the low and intimate amber light. She did not need to show herself to entice, he thought.

“My Prince.”

She greeted with a soft, warm melody of enchanting, in a manner that eased his shoulders but not his soul. He regarded her face the same way Sylvi did to him. One eye glazing over her familiar features.

His motions were easy to memorise. He would do no more than was necessary, as most patrons did. He would strip from his clothing, lay between her thighs and take her roughly. Preparation for someone as lowborn as her, and getting paid for it, was no necessity for a customer, nevermind a prince.

There were glimpses where it was enjoyable. But Prince Aemond was guarded, sometimes so much so she hardly thought him capable of the act. But he would surprise her. And once he was done, he would lay beside her, and he would talk, with only their flesh as comfort.

Sometimes, like right at this moment, he would just lay beside her, running her bright locks, ruffled from their salacious acts, through his long and slender fingers. She often thought he looked like a lost soul, eyepatch discarded and bared in this wretched place for her to lay her eyes upon. And then another thought lay under that still. The thought that this man before her had such hate in his heart for his half sister’s children, and yet visited her every other evening to sink into the haven that her own existence offered.

An existence she was sure he internally loathed.

But it seemed he loathed himself more than anything else.

“Do you dream of being more than you are.” Not a question. An inquisition shaped as a demand.

She hesitated, knowing that her answer must please him. "My dreams are inconsequential, my prince. My only desire is to serve you and to bring you comfort."

He smirked, satisfied with her response. "It is the natural order of things. Your role here suits you, providing solace to those of us born to higher stations."

She felt her brows furrow in annoyance, but tried to soften her features, his keen blue eye boring into her face. Your role here suits you. And what was that exactly? A whore who merely existed to be a sheath for men’s blades whenever it suited them. A vessel, nothing more.

"I would never forget, my prince," she said softly, her eyes downcast. "Your presence is the only thing that gives my life meaning."

Aemond reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. "Sometimes, I wonder if there is more to you than just your services to me."

Her heart quickened, but she kept her voice calm and composed. "I am whatever you need me to be, my prince."

Often, that was all it took to sate him.

He would always come back, in varying moods, and she felt the reins on her white-hot temper begin to slip, the flames rearing to the roof of her insides the more delicate insults came out of his mouth. Those among her argued that he cared for her deeply. But how can a man care for a woman and say such hurtful words in exchange?

A bastard, indeed she was. But her existence strayed the line between demanding some semblance of respect, drawn to her by the milky skin and pale hair that he recognised in himself. She pondered this contradiction endlessly. Why did he come to her, night after night, seeking her presence, only to remind her of her inferiority? What was it about her that captivated him, despite his disdain?

Her thoughts often wandered as she prepared for his visits, trying to unravel the mystery of Aemond Targaryen. Did he see something in her that he could not find elsewhere? Was it the shared blood, tainted as it was by her illegitimacy? Or was it simply the thrill of asserting his power over someone who mirrored his own visage?

“You seem troubled.”

“It is nothing,” his response was cool, followed by the discarding of his hood, only turning when she urged a decently full glass of wine into his hand.

“You forget, my prince, that I am well-versed in the art of reading men. Tell me, what burdens you tonight?”

Stealing the wine from his lips, he cannot help the wandering of his fingers, tracing the golden spun locks of her hair that glow moonlit as he touches them. “Your features betray you,” he muses, “do you ever wonder what it would have been like, had you been born legitimate?" he asked, his tone laced with condescension.

She hesitated, searching his eyes for any hint of sincerity, but found only the cold amusement that so often accompanied his words. "It is not my place to wonder such things," she replied, her voice steady. "My fate was decided long before I drew my first breath."

He tilted his head, studying her. "And yet, you bear the mark of our blood so clearly. It must gnaw at you, knowing you could never rise above your station, no matter how much you resemble the dragonlords of old."

"Perhaps," she admitted softly, "but we all have our roles to play, my prince. Even those born amongst lust and lechery."

Aemond's fingers continued their path through her hair, his touch both gentle and possessive. "You speak wisely for one of your birth," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It is a pity you were not born to a higher station. You might have made an interesting rival."

"Or an ally," she suggested, daring to meet his gaze.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Or an ally," he conceded. "But as it stands, you are here, and I am there. The order of things remains unchanged."

"And you come here to see me," she retorted, her gaze unwavering. "What does that say about you, my prince?"

“I enjoy you.”

"Or perhaps the dragon seeks something he cannot find elsewhere."

Aemond’s expression hardened, his pride pricked by her words. "Do not presume to understand me. You are here because I allow it."

"And you are here because you need it," she countered, her voice a seductive whisper. "What drives you to seek solace in the arms of a bastard? A whore?"

He pulled back, his eyes narrowing. "You speak too boldly-"

"I speak truth," she said, her gaze unflinching. "Something even a prince cannot escape."

Aemond regarded her for a long moment, a mixture of contempt and fascination warring within him. She was a puzzle, a riddle wrapped in the enigma of her bloodline. He hated and desired her in equal measure, drawn to the mystery of her existence.

She let out a breath, surprised when his fingers wrenched around her face, tugging her towards him. But her expression never faltered. “I wonder who is the depraved cunt who sired you,” Aemond murmured, deep and low against her face.

“Prince Daemon or the late King Viserys, it does not matter. Half of the whores on the Street of Silk knew the shape of their cocks-”

Aemond's grip tightened, his eyes blazing with fury. "Watch your tongue," he hissed, his breath hot against her skin. "You may have Targaryen blood, but you are still a whore. Do not forget your place."

She winced but refused to look away. "And yet here you are”. Her voice was steady, defiant, challenging him despite the pain.

His eyes narrowed, the fury in them warring with something deeper, something he could not name. "I am a man who indulges in his whims," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Nothing more."

"Is that all it is?" she whispered, her voice softening, searching his gaze. "An indulgence? Because if that's true, you wouldn't keep coming back."

Aemond's grip loosened slightly, his fingers trailing down her cheek. "You know nothing of my reasons," he said, a trace of vulnerability slipping through his hardened exterior.

He looked at her for a long moment, the conflict within him evident in his eyes. "You remind me of what I am and what I can never escape," he said finally, his voice a raw whisper. "The blood we share, the legacy that binds us. You are a mirror, showing me my weakness. The weakness of my House."

"And you, my prince, are the reminder of what I could have been. The life I was denied, the nobility I can never claim."

Aemond's hand twitched, a sudden urge to pull her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his, but he forced himself to remain still. He could not afford to show that side of himself, not to her, not to anyone. In another world, she might have been born legitimate, a sister to him, one he could wed, bed and breed at his leisure.

And yet.

"You speak of nobility as if it is something you could ever grasp," he said, his voice softer, yet still laced with condescension. "You will never be more than what you are now. A whore, a bastard, a mere footnote in the history of my House."

Her eyes flashed with quiet anger, a smouldering fire that burned beneath her calm exterior. How dare he speak to her this way? He knew nothing of the struggles, the pain, the countless indignities that had shaped her life.

"How fortunate you are, my prince," she said, her voice measured but tinged with bitterness, "to never have known the struggles of those who are less fortunate. To speak so easily of things you can never truly understand."

Aemond's gaze hardened, but he did not interrupt her.

"You may see me as nothing more than a whore and a bastard," she continued, her words steady, each one a dagger aimed at his pride. "But you know nothing of the world outside your gilded cage. You have no idea what it means to fight for every scrap of dignity, to claw your way through a life that was decided for you before you even drew breath."

Aemond's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and something he couldn't quite name. "You forget yourself," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You forget to whom you speak."

"And you forget, my prince," she shot back, her voice unyielding, "that respect is earned, not given by birthright alone. And certainly not because you have a dragon."

A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken truths and simmering tension. They stood there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down, both caught in the web of their shared blood and conflicting worlds. There was a strange respect in his gaze. As if he had seen the same flames that captivated him.

Slowly, she reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out the purse Aemond had paid her that night. She held it out to him, her hand steady. "Take it back," she said quietly, but firmly. "I don't want your coin."

He stared at her for a long moment, the purse heavy with silver between them. Slowly, he reached out and took it from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was brief, but electric, a spark that neither could ignore. He could not help the smile that rose to his face, testing the weight of his coin in his palm. Looking down upon the woman in front of him with a cold but unyielding respect.

The events of that night lingered in Aemond's mind, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. The war was intensifying, and the tension within the Red Keep was palpable. It was during one of these tense small council meetings, that Aemond found his thoughts straying.

“Prince Daeron’s dragon, Tessarion, has at last taken to wing. Your brother expects to join the fight soon.”

He half listened to Lord Wylde, his head half turned, eyes darting to listen to the cries of the smallfolk so loud it was as if they were in the room. Screams. Cries of terror.

“Dragon!”

“Get inside!”

“And when he does…the Hightower host will be unstoppable.”

He acted on instinct, feeling the hot whips of something he would not admit was panic at the back of his neck. The doors gave way to a bright, sunny afternoon. His one eye squinted to peer into the blue abyss, narrowed to the appearance of a great beast.

A dragon, its silver scales gleaming in the sunlight, descended from the sky.

Silverwing.

And there, riding atop the great beast, was her. Her silver hair flowed behind her like a banner for war, and her eyes, filled with determination, met his with an intensity that took his breath away. Aemond's mind raced, understanding dawning on him as he realised the implications.

Rhaenyra's recruitment of Dragonseeds had borne unexpected fruit.

She guided Silverwing to soar over King's Landing, her movements graceful and confident. She made several passes, almost as if she were flouting. The dragon's powerful wings created gusts of wind that rippled over Kings Landing, sending leaves and dust swirling, with smallfolk and merchants knocked off balance.

Aemond stood there, watching in a mix of awe and resentment. There was a part of him that couldn't help but admire the sight, the sheer power and majesty of the dragon, her commanding presence. But another part of him burned with anger. The idea of a bastard riding a dragon, flaunting her newfound status above the city, challenged everything he believed in.

What did that make him? How was he special if bastards could claim dragons? The exclusivity of his birthright felt tarnished, the unique status of House Targaryen diluted.

She seemed to sense his gaze, turning Silverwing to circle back and hover momentarily over the Keep. Her eyes locked onto his, a silent challenge in her gaze. She was revelling in her newfound power, asserting her place in a world that had tried to deny her.

Aemond's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. He liked her, there was no denying that. She fascinated and infuriated him in equal measure. But the sight of her riding Silverwing, basking in her defiance, stoked the flames of his inner conflict.

As Silverwing ascended higher, leaving King's Landing behind, Aemond's eyes followed them until they were mere specks against the sky. He stood there long after they had disappeared, wrestling with the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. Admiration, anger, attraction, and resentment collided in a storm that he couldn't quell.

The sun was setting by the time Aemond reached Vhagar. The great dragon stirred, sensing her rider's agitation. Aemond's resolve hardened as he climbed onto her back. With a command, Vhagar spread her immense wings and launched into the sky, the force of her takeoff shaking the ground below.

The flight to Dragonstone was swift. The wind whipped through Aemond's hair, his mind racing as fast as the dragon beneath him. He couldn't let this challenge go unanswered.

As Dragonstone came into view, the outline of Silverwing against the darkening sky confirmed his target. He urged Vhagar to increase her speed, but the older dragon's pace couldn't match Silverwing's agility. Aemond's frustration grew with every beat of Vhagar's wings, the gap between them refusing to close.

She watched him, the man who had insulted her, bedded her, wronged her, as he turned his great beast mid-air, her own dragon purring against her touch atop the peak of a tower of Dragonstone. Even from afar, she could sense his frustration, the simmering anger that radiated from him, and she revelled in this unique reaction, savouring the way it felt.

For a moment, their eyes met, and in that silence, a thousand emotions passed between them. He glanced back over his shoulder, watching as she sat firm atop her beast, the wind whipping her hair around her face. The tension in the air was palpable, but there was also a sense of resolution, a quiet acknowledgment of the lines they had drawn.

That this was no surrender.

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gurugirl · 1 year

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The Big Tease | bfd!harry

*photo is for t-shirt placement visual only. please picture who you like as reader.

best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship au

Summary: based loosely on this request - Harry comes to your place to make sure you're taking care of yourself and you find that as hard as you try to tease him, he's not giving in to you and then some high emotions are exposed.

Word Count: 7.8k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, angst, age gap, cheating

bfd!harry masterlist

You tried not to feel guilty about what you were doing with a married man. Your best friend’s dad. It was hard when it came to keeping it a secret from everyone. Keeping it a secret from Fae.

“Where’d you get this?” Fae brushed her fingers over the pretty little bracelet Mr. Styles gave you a few nights before. It was gold with three round light-colored opals in the center and two round-cut tiny diamonds on either side. It was dainty and sweet and you knew it was expensive after googling the brand and finding the exact item available online and in high-end shops nearby.

“Ahh… my mom and dad got it for me a while ago. Just haven’t worn it in a long time. Forgot it about,” you lied with a shrug. Lying to her made you nauseous.

“Really? How could you forget about this? It’s gorgeous! Looks really pretty on you too,” she complimented and you frowned as you looked down at it.

You hated lying to your best friend. But what could you do? You certainly wouldn’t admit to your affair with her father. And of course, you weren’t quite feeling guilty enough to put an end to it either. Mr. Styles was the best you’d ever had and you were completely smitten with him.

When you two finally made it back to your apartment after shopping and eating and stopping at the ice cream shop for a treat you’d also forgotten all the lovely flowers you had sitting around your living room and kitchen.

It had also become a thing where you’d get the most exquisite bouquets delivered to you every Monday morning. Peonies, roses, phalaenopsis orchids, and gardenias all stuffed with hardly any filler. You knew the bouquets he was sending you were hundreds of dollars a pop. But they were breathtaking.

You quickly assessed in your mind whether or not you’d removed the cards from them which would have given everything away should Fae see. Unlocking your door and letting yourself in first you quickly glanced around and the freshest bouquet clearly still had its card poking out of it. You made a beeline across the room as Fae closed your door behind her and plucked the tiny card out, crumpling it in your hand, and then bent down next to the table to pretend you were doing something else.

“Those are so pretty, Y/n. Oh my god. Do you have a flower service or something?”

You had three bouquets placed around your living room. One was clearly old and some of the flowers were drooping, losing their vibrant colors, while the newer ones were full of soft pinks and purples, crisp white and cream…

“Yes. I decided to start treating myself to nice flowers every week.” You smiled. Another lie. You couldn’t afford a weekly delivery of these kinds of flowers and if Fae bothered to research how expensive bouquets like this were she’d have questioned you further. But luckily she didn’t.

The bracelet, the flowers, your glow… all things she noticed, could have been an indicator of a lover but as far as you could tell she hadn’t connected the dots. Or at least she didn’t voice it to you.

Of course, everything could be explained. But she was your best friend. If you weren’t more vigilant, she’d be catching on soon, you were sure.

. . .

The following day after a morning shift at the restaurant you arrived home and collapsed on your couch. It was exhausting. The restaurant was only open for breakfast and brunch on the weekend (where normally it’s only a dinner spot the rest of the week) and it was slammed. Mimosas, eggs benedict, fancy French tarts, and pastries, huge parties of people, music, guests nursing hangovers… The restaurant was well known for its weekend breakfast and brunch with bottomless mimosas and Bloody Marys. The clientele were usually upper-class folks who didn’t mind spending $35 for their mimosa and then only ordering 2 when they could have had as many as they wanted. A local creamery provided butter, yogurt, and milk for your special breakfast dishes, and a bowl of fancy yogurt and some in-house granola was $15. The cheapest food item on the breakfast menu. The cheapest item on the menu was a cup of black coffee, refillable. Unless you ordered the free tap water.

You got lucky to eat anything while you served breakfast. It was typically too busy to take a bite of anything. But the tips were excellent because everyone was usually in a great mood.

You were startled awake by your phone vibrating in your back pocket. You’d fallen asleep without even realizing you’d closed your eyes.

Pulling the phone out from under your body you realized it was Harry calling you (he normally didn’t call unless it was prearranged).

“Hello?” You sat up as you answered.

“Baby! I was worried. Are you okay? I didn’t hear back from you.”

Harry had a thing where he wanted you to text him when you got home from work to let him know you made it safely, even if it was a morning shift. He was always so worried about you but you kind of loved it.

“I’m fine. Sorry! I fell asleep as soon as I sat down on the couch. God, I’m so exhausted. Fae was here late last night and then I had the breakfast shift so I only had like four hours of sleep…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I was just worried. I texted you and then never heard back. Just started to panic. Have you eaten?”

You smiled and his soft deep voice made you feel so comfortable and safe, “I haven’t eaten yet. I had a bit at work but just passed out as soon as I got here.”

“So you’ve only had something to eat at work? It’s already dinnertime, Y/n.”

Harry did have a tendency to sort of scold you like he was your dad. Maybe it was ingrained in him in some ways. To try and take care of you and remind you to do things like eat.

“Geez, Dad. I’ll get right on it,” you teased.

Harry was silent for a moment, which had you worried. Perhaps calling him ‘dad’ had been unwise.

But then suddenly his voice broke through the line, “I’m coming over. I have a feeling you don’t have any groceries and I’m gonna make you dinner. Something to eat.”

You scoffed, “I mean… I have food here. I will eat. You don’t have–“

“I’ll be there within an hour,” he interrupted and you nodded to yourself.

“O… Okay. Um… yeah. In an hour.”

. . .

You quickly showered and tossed your dirty clothes into your clothes hamper so they weren’t strewn about your bedroom floor. You tidied up and kept yourself busy until he finally arrived. You were getting all worked up knowing he was coming over.

You didn’t know what he had been telling Mrs. Styles about why he was leaving or when he’d stay with you overnight, or spend hours in your bed every week. Though there were times he could only come over quickly, most of the time he stayed with you long enough that he’d need a good cover story. You kind of hoped you could have him for the night.

When he knocked at your door and you opened it up for him you saw he had his hands full. One arm around a sack of groceries and in his other hand the bag he normally packed for when he was staying the night.

You smiled when you saw his handsome face and ushered him into your small apartment. He leaned in to kiss you quickly, “Just showered?” He asked.

“Well yeah,” you spoke as you closed the door and followed behind him to your kitchen, “I didn’t have the chance earlier because I fell asleep as you know,” you laughed.

“Mmhmm…” he grunted affirmatively as he began to remove the grocery items from the bag one by one.

You saw tomatoes, fresh basil, flour, mushrooms, cheese…

“What are you making?” You picked up the container of buffalo mozzarella and then looked at Harry.

“Margherita pizza. One of my favorite little recipes my mom used to make.”

You placed the container down, pulled his arm to drag him toward you, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He immediately paused what he was doing and wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss and then giving you a taste of his tongue.

But then he pulled away with his signature teasing smirk and went back to his task.

“You brought your bag. Gonna stay the night with me?”

He nodded as he folded the paper bag up neatly and then looked at you, “If that’s okay. Have to leave early, though.”

If that’s okay.

You laughed to yourself and nodded, “Of course, it’s okay, Harry. God, what I wouldn’t give to have you with me every–“ You stopped what you saying when you realized how suddenly serious that thought was. You did want him every night. You wanted him to yourself but you hadn’t discussed that with him before.

Harry placed the neatly folded paper bag down on your little counter and then pulled you back toward him with his hands on your hips, “Yeah? Every…? What? Every night? Want me every night, baby?” That same sneaky, devious smirk on his face had you melting and warm.

“I just meant, you’re always welcome,” you slid your hands up his chest and bit your lip. You were a little embarrassed that you admitted that but it was obviously too late now.

“I’m always welcome or you want me every night? Which is it?” He gripped you harder so you couldn’t escape his questions, his gaze.

You puffed a breath out through your lips with a laugh, “Both.”

He loosened his grip and brought a hand to your face, his eyes fixed to yours, “Both. I’d much prefer to be here with you every night too. Would if I could.” The thumb that trailed over your cheekbone and to your temple was soft and loving. You knew he meant what he said.

Harry’s pizza was superb. Your oven wasn’t quite right, he kept saying as he baked it but to you, it was the best thing that had ever come out of that cheap appliance.

“Usually like to make this in a brick oven. The one I’ve got in my backyard, but this will do in a pinch I suppose.”

Your mouth was full as you nodded, “So good.”

Harry laughed at your stuffed cheeks and the way you were gobbling down what he’d made.

“Aren’t you going to eat more?” You asked him finally when you’d swallowed your bite. He’d only had one slice.

“Already had dinner. But I wanted to feed you. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

For some reason with a tummy full of Harry’s pizza and the kind gesture of his cooking to help take care of you had you reeling and needing more than just food.

Of course, it would have been impolite to just abandon cleanup but you were suddenly aware of how his sleeves were pushed up his forearms and how his dimples were extra deep accompanying his attractive smile. And his hair looked too tidy, you needed to get your hands in it. Needed to get him out of his clothes. Get those long fingers around your neck and touching your body immediately.

You set your plate down on the small kitchen table you were both sitting at and slid your hand up his thigh, “Oh is that why you came over here? The only reason?” You grinned and he leaned back into his chair and looked at you, keeping his own grin in check.

“Need to make sure my girl is healthy. Has everything she needs.”

“Yeah? And sometimes I need more than just food too, Mr. Styles.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs slightly as you continued moving your hand upward, “Oh I know, sweet girl. You need a lot of things, don’t you?”

You nodded, “What about you? Do you need things too? From me? Anything I can help you with?”

Now his grin was breaking out over his face but it was cheeky, playful, “Of course I do.”

But he wasn’t giving in to your little game. He liked having you be the one to ask for it. You didn’t know why but he loved hearing you beg him. You always resisted begging. At first anyway. Sometimes he’d give in without you needing to.

“And what do you need from me?” You stopped short of putting your fingers over where you knew he was tucked under his pants. The obvious natural bulge he sported giving away where he normally liked to position himself.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, love. But I’m here because you needed to eat first and foremost. And you needed some groceries.”

You laughed and skipped over his lovely cock and put your hand up to his chest, scooting your chair in a little closer, “I’ll give you anything you want, sir. All you have to do is ask.”

Harry smiled and licked his lips slowly, “I’m as content as I can be here with you right now. Could sit here all night listening to you talk. S’that what you want? Want to touch my chest,” he flitted his eyes down to where your hand was before looking back into your eyes, “and my thighs, and chat all night about my pizza making skills and your lack of healthy food?”

You folded your lips into your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. He was playing a game of chicken with you. You really wanted to win this time.

“Well, that does sound really nice. You’ve filled me up so good with your yummy pizza. Guess I don’t need anything more than stimulating conversation with you if that’s all you’re interested in.”

Harry swallowed and breathed a laugh out of his nose, “Fine. Pizza and conversation it is.”

You wanted to huff in frustration. He still had his arms crossed over his chest, just under where your fingers were toying with the buttons on his shirt. He wasn’t giving in. But you had a thought.

“I’ll be right back.”

You hopped up from the chair and pranced to your bedroom. If he wanted to tease so would you. Stripping off your sweats you dug out your thin white Hey Lover t-shirt and tied it up just under the center of your breasts, and black cheeky boy short panties. You’d pretend you were only getting comfy since it was already late in the evening. He’d know what you were up to but you could play it off like you just wanted to get into your comfy house clothes.

When you got back to the kitchen Harry was already cleaning up.

“Hey, let’s do that later. Wanna sit and talk a bit.”

Harry tsked you, his back still turned as he wrapped up the rest of the pizza in foil, “I worked hard on this. Don’t want it to go bad. You can go sit–“ when he finally turned his full gaze back to you he stopped mid-sentence. You saw his jaw clench and his nostrils flair.

Not fair. That was not fair of you.

You knew your top especially was going to drive him mad. It was thin and your nipples were poking through the material and he could certainly see the shadow of the deeper color of your areolas popping through.

And he did. You noted where his eyes roamed, pausing over your tits for a good few seconds before licking his lips and turning back around to finish his job.

“Go sit.” He said without a single note of sweetness or desire.

You smiled to yourself as you walked into the living room and sat on your couch. Putting on a little music you selected a good little playlist that you knew he’d like.

Trying to act as unbothered as you possibly could you found a comfortable position on the couch and leaned into your cushions as you waited for Mr. Styles to join you.

It wasn’t long before he was casually strolling into the living room and sitting on the couch, leaving a few feet between you two. He draped an ankle over his knee and sat back, looking totally cool and unbothered.

You stretched and gathered your hair into your hands to expose your neck as you spoke, “So, how was your day today, Mr. Styles? You already know all about mine.”

Harry nodded slowly as he looked at you, keeping his eyes on your face, “Normal. Woke up and worked out, read an article, and played some golf with a colleague. That’s it really. Now here I am feeding you and entertaining you with conversation,” he grinned and you saw his eyes quickly take in your neck.

You smiled and sighed, “Sounds nice. I’ve played golf a few times. I’m terrible at it, though. Once a guy who took me tried to straighten out my stance but it did no good. No matter how many times he helped me adjust my grip or pushed my legs to spread them out properly it just didn’t work,” you chuckled. It was true. You’d gone with a guy a couple of years back on a date. He was flirting with you when he tried showing you the proper way to stand and hold the club but it turned into making out in the golf cart and a quick fuck in his car before he dropped you at home.

“S’that so? He probably wasn’t a good player either if he couldn’t give you any tips to help you improve your game.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I think he was more interested in getting my clothes off than anything,” you kept your eyes on his to asses but there was nothing there that indicated jealousy.

You had to amp it up. Do something to make him lose it. Wanted to watch him thicken up in his pants.

Dropping your hair you tucked your legs under yourself and turned to face Harry. You knew he was trying his hardest not to let his eyes drop below your neck. He knew he’d be fucked if he took in the way the soft cotton stretched over your breasts.

“Anyway. Are you any good?” You allowed your own eyes to take him in fully. His composure was sure to falter at some point.

“Yeah. I’m all right. I can hold my own.”

His short answer was not exactly what you were hoping for but you didn’t let it deter you. For some reason, his standoffish behavior was getting you even more worked up.

“Bet you can hold your own. You’re just so naturally good at everything you do,” you moved your finger over your tummy, keeping your eyes on his, “I know first-hand.”

Harry raised his brows and the movement of your hand over your torso and then down toward the top of your panties had him dropping his sight to where you were softly ghosting your fingers along the elastic band. You tugged at the knot on your shirt before moving your hand back up toward your chest, your thumb pressed between your thin cotton t-shirt-covered tits.

He watched your fingers and then looked back up at you, “Do you? And what do you know of my skills?” He smiled softly. Still appearing totally unbothered.

You sighed and tilted your head, keeping your eyes on his before stretching your arms over your head and allowing your shirt to lift the tiniest bit, revealing the bottom of your breasts. You only put your arms down once you were satisfied that Mr. Styles had gotten a good look, “Well, for example, you just made me a pizza that was to die for. Also, you recently got promoted at work and now you’re some big shot,” you unfolded a leg from underneath your bum and stretched it out, pressing your bare foot onto Harry’s thigh, “And I’ve seen you work out,” you nudged his muscled thigh, “You put men half your age to shame. You’re so athletic…” you began to pull your foot away but Harry gripped your ankle and pulled your leg to drape over his thigh making you smile in triumph. Though you’d not yet won this round, he was clearly giving in to you bit by bit.

“Hmmm…” Harry nodded and hummed quietly. He kept his hand on your shin and his eyes a safe distance from anything below your chin, “I know I’m good at a lot of things. Can make you dribble all over your chin by just pulling my pants down,” he licked his lips, “Feel like that’s a great skill of mine. What else…” his hand began to brush over your leg softly and you scoffed at him but of course, he was right. You both knew it. He made you drool and whiney and hot. He didn’t even have to do anything.

“That was one time. And you had your fingers in my mouth. It wasn’t because of your cock,” you lied. Well, his fingers in your mouth did have you drool down your chin and when he pulled his pants down, he teasingly pointed out how your chin was shiny and you’d dripped saliva down your neck and to your chest.

“No? Hmmm… but you were so desperate to get it in your mouth that you tried grabbing me and when I told you to be patient you whined and drooled all over the floor. You can pretend all you want, little girl. I see what you’re trying to do.”

You watched as his hand traveled up your leg and past your knee to your thigh, “Wearing this little getup… trying to seduce me. So desperate for me. But you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than this, Y/n. You can lie to yourself and pretend you're not bothered and change the subject and show me your pretty tits all you want. S’not gonna change the fact that you’re gonna wind up a messy little puddle begging me for anything I’ll give you. Isn’t that right?”

Your mouth dropped open in faux shock. He was right. But you weren’t ready to give up yet.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Styles. I know you like having your ego stroked. So go ahead and keep telling yourself that you’ve got the upper hand. We both know you’re already folding. I can sit here all night and chat with you like this if you want. Doesn’t bother me one bit.” You folded your arms across your chest with a grin.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head. You were fun. He loved these moments with you. Loved giving you a hard time. Loved when you gave him a hard time. He softly pinched the inside of your thigh and you laughed, attempting to pull your leg away but he held you in place, large palms keeping your leg over him, fingers digging into your skin.

“Darling, you forget who you’re dealing with. I’m not the one resorting to skimpy clothes and trying to hide how turned-on I am. I see you trying to keep your legs pressed together. Hiding something,” he jutted his chin toward you and looked over the spot between your legs where he knew your panties covered up a tiny secret.

You wore black panties on purpose. Any wetness would be easier to hide, but keeping your legs pressed together could ensure he didn’t see the wet patch that had begun to spread. However, the way he was holding your leg over his lap made it quite difficult for you to not open your thighs a little.

“You just love to imagine that you’ve got me all bothered. But you’re wrong. I’m totally fine.”

Harry smiled and pulled at your leg further, causing a small yelp to slip out from your mouth followed by a tiny bit of laughter at the way you lost balance when you were pulled toward him, your other leg being tugged at to drape over his thigh.

“Good. Then we can just sit here and talk about the weather and maybe politics if you’re into that. Or is there another topic you had in mind since you’re so keen on just sitting chatting all night?”

You steadied yourself, back against the cushion as you pressed your legs together again and looked up at him innocently, “Randy called me the other day. Said he missed me. Apologized for being rude when we were together. That was nice to hear. The apology,” you wiggled your hips to fix your seating so you could appear more casual, despite having your legs in Harry’s possession over his lap.

Harry’s large palms ran up the outer sides of your thighs slowly before dragging back down to just above your knees, keeping his eyes on yours, “Oh really? Thinking about getting back with him then?” He spoke trying to tamper the playful smile on his face.

You snorted a laugh and grinned teasingly, drawing your fingers across your breasts, “Nahh… I can do better. I mean… maybe if I’m desperate and just need to scratch an itch. You know? Being a single girl gets hard at times. My dildo is only gonna give me a small taste of what a man can. Even if he’s not great in bed.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he nodded with dark eyes, “Would be such a shame to waste a good fuck on Rudy like that when you’ve got me at the helm. Of course, you're too stubborn to admit it. All you have to do is ask.”

You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap with a pout, “Randy. His name is Randy. But anyway… I don’t have to beg Randy to fuck me. He’s never pretended he was unbothered by me. Always quite straightforward really. If he wanted sex all he had to do was tell me. You on the other hand,” you poked your finger into his arm, “like making it hard for me, which is quite impolite. So I’m okay with not having sex if you just aren’t up for it.”

Harry pushed a laugh out through his nose at your tease, “Rudy sounds like a fucking bore. And he never gave you an orgasm. Either you have really bad taste or you’re just a tease. I have a feeling I know which it is, too. Little girl likes to play games. I can play games if you want. But you know I’m gonna win.”

You knew he was right. You wanted his cock but he wasn’t budging. All you had to do was admit it. Ask him politely. And you would when you couldn’t handle it any longer but you were having fun and the back and forth was like foreplay for you.

He kept one hand grasped around the outside of your thigh while his other smoothed inward, fingers pushing your thighs apart the tiniest bit and then gently dancing upward. If he moved his fingers too far up he’d feel how damp you were already.

“I’m not playing games,” you spoke matter-of-factly, watching as his hand traveled over your skin, “I can just tell maybe you’re tired Perhaps you’ve had a long day and it’s almost bedtime for you. I mean I get it,” you laughed in preparation for what you were about to say, “When you get to be your age things just slow down a little. It’s okay if you’re not up for it tonight, sir.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes as he laughed at your attempt to provoke him.

When he looked back at you his expression was serious as he pried your legs apart, swiping the pad of his pointer finger right over the wet material of your panties and raised his brows as if he was shocked. Though you knew he was goading you, “You know goddamn well that my age has nothing to do with my libido. Difference between me and you is that I have incredible willpower and I know that you’re gonna be begging me to stuff your pussy before the night is over.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Nope.”

Harry pressed his thumb right over where your clit was already aching and grinned, “Yep.” Popping the p for emphasis. “See I’ve already got you soaking your panties. Goosebumps on your legs. Your nipples are hard. Your face is warm. I bet your heart is pounding too, just wishing you were getting the life fucked out of you right now. And you could be,” he spoke lowly as he slid a finger under the fabric of your panties and smoothed it over your skin, but not touching your crease or your clit like you hoped, “If you just admit it.”

You noticed that his cock had plumped under his pants. A good sign, you figured, “Nothing to admit. I might be turned on but I can hold out. In fact, I’d bet you’re not in much better shape with your cock swelling up like it is. You need this wet pussy to soothe that big dick, don’t you?”

Harry’s undisturbed body language was a concern because even though his prick was growing harder by the minute, you were starting to boil while he still seemed unphased.

“Oh, honey…” Harry smiled at you like you were a pitiful thing, “I’m doing just fine. In fact, probably just gonna fuck my own fist before we go to bed since you’re so stubborn. Maybe I’ll let you watch me too. I’ll be just fine. Just love being here with you. We don’t always have to have sex.”

You clenched your jaw and huffed imagining that scene. Having Harry yank his cock with his big hand until he was coming on your floor. You’d want to lick it up off the floor too. Scoop it all up and swallow it down. He had you obsessed with his come. Well, with him in general.

You tried to think of something to say but your brain was stuck on the image of him slowly stroking his fat cock and saying filthy shit to you while you tried to hold it together and not give in to your own urges.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Harry lifted a hand to your face and brushed his thumb along your jaw and up over your cheek, “Need to tell me something?”

Your lips parted and you breathed out a small whimper and squished your eyes closed. Your determination was crumbling with his soft touches.

“S’okay. If you don’t mind,” Harry pushed your legs off of him and quickly began to unbutton his pants, “S’getting tight in there…” he pulled his pants down just a touch so that the bulge under his briefs was now poking out and he had a bit more space to breathe.

He pressed over his erection and straightened himself out and suddenly the tip of his cock was peeking out over the band of Calvin Kleins. You closed your eyes again and tried to will yourself to not give in to him. But what was fair was fair. You were teasing him with your body and now he was returning the favor.

When you heard Harry chuckle you opened your eyes to look at him and your head was fuzzy. He was literally mouth-watering. He’d unbuttoned his shirt so you could see his tattoos and the large erection poking out from his briefs was like an actual cherry on top of it all. You licked your lips and swallowed down your saliva as you stared at his swollen head. It looked like something you could just pop into your mouth and suckle on if you weren’t so stubborn.

But Harry loved how stubborn you were. You really did make him work for it. You were exciting and sweet and he loved the way you teased him.

“If you want some you can have some, sweetheart. I know you’d like a taste. S’right there for you if you just ask politely.”

You groaned and looked away from him but your eyes were burning and all you could think about was straddling his lap and pushing his briefs down so you could fuck yourself on him. You were actually vibrating and pulsing you were so turned on.

And when you thought about it all… how this was all just a game anyway. How you both knew you’d end up with his come dribbling out of your cunt and satisfied and fucked out before you went to bed you laughed, “Fuck it…” you said as you crawled yourself over his lap and Harry’s hands found your hips, “I want you. Okay? You win.”

He had a pleased smile on his face when he felt you press your soaked panties over his briefs and plaster your lips over his in finality.

He would have laughed and teased you for giving in but he was thankful you did. Because he was aching for you.

You were desperate too. You pulled away from the kiss and put your hands down to his briefs and pushed at the material before sliding the crotch of your panties to the side and letting your wet hole kiss his tip softly as you looked into his eyes, “Can I please have it?”

Harry’s smirk fell from his face the moment you began to lower yourself, coating him in your slick arousal, “Yes. Take what you want. Fuck…”

The music was soft and you could barely hear the lyrics as you began to work yourself down and up along his length. You moaned as you felt him poke deep and keened, sucking in a sharp breath, “So thick…” you panted.

You were wetting Harry’s briefs and the tops of his pants but he didn’t care in that moment. He’d take care of the issue after you were done, “Yeah? Needed to stuff yourself with my cock didn’t you darling? Feels good?”

You nodded and held onto the back of the couch as Harry moved his hands from your hips up to the bottom hem of your top and pushed the material up so he could finally look at your pretty breasts. His favorite. He leaned in and suckled your tit into your mouth and you gasped softly.

You began to ride him a little faster, sticky slick noises coming from between your bodies as you writhed up and down his cock.

“Harry!” You shouted his name in a desperate plea. You didn’t know what you were pleading for but you just wanted more. His tongue and lips and teeth on your tits and his heavy, hard dick inside of you were really all a girl could ask for.

Harry moaned and licked over the spot he nipped next to your nipple and moved his lips over your soft flesh as he spoke, “Poor thing… so needy for me. Should have just given in the first time I told you to, baby.”

The couch under you squeaked gently as you rose and fell over him. The relief of having him inside of you had you tearing up.

Harry tilted his head back to look at your face. And just as he expected you were completely insatiable. Your expression was hungry and lusty with your lips parted, a pained look across your features.

Harry cooed at you and slid his hands up from your soft breasts to cup your face and make you kiss him. Your mouths moved together slowly as you shifted over him, slowing down a little now that your mouths were connected.

Harry pulled away, keeping his hands at your face, “Slow down a little bit. Here…” he dropped one hand to your hip and stilled you, pushing you down all the way over his shaft until you were firmly seated in his lap and his tip was stuffed so far inside of you it hurt making you whine and quiver.

“Like that. Just sit and feel me. No need to hurry. Gonna always take care of you. Okay?” His lips pressed over yours again and you moaned into his mouth.

You acted as if you were starved. You canted your hips slightly to glide your clit against his pelvic bone and he gasped and pulled away again, “I know you need it, baby. Just slow down. You were so desperate weren’t you?” He thumbed at your cheek and wiped your tears with a grin, “Always my good girl. Aren’t you?”

You bit your lips and whimpered as you nodded. You felt like a pathetic girl. It was like the moment his cock was inside of you all your good sense flew out the window and you were a melty, needy puppy in despair, deprived of attention and love. You needed more and more and more every time he entered you. It only got worse as the months crawled on and your affair got more serious.

“I wanna be your only good girl. Please…” You slid your shaky fingers into his hair and smoothed your lips over his with a tremulous breath.

Harry rocked upward, dipping into your sensitive insides and you gasped again, parting your lips from his.

“Look at me, Y/n…” Harry spoke as he moved a hand to the back of your neck.

You locked eyes with him and your sad little pout had him leaning in to give you a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth before he looked back into your eyes, “You’re my good girl. No one else. Just you, baby. Understood?”

You nodded and sniffled, “But I’m not,” You jutted your bottom lip out like a child and felt ridiculous. You didn’t know what had you so emotional suddenly. Maybe it was the build-up and all the teasing. Or the way you always gave in to him and he was so cool and secure in himself while you were shaky and desperate.

Harry moved a hand down your back and kept his other hand brushing softly over your cheekbone, “Yes you are. You’re mine. You’re my only.”

You didn’t want to say it. Hated to bring it up but you couldn’t help it or you thought you’d explode if you didn’t tell the truth, “But you’re married. I might be yours but you’re not mine.”

He hadn’t quite expected it. You knew the situation. He couldn’t just leave his wife of 20+ years. It didn’t work that way. But to hear you say it was… well it gave him pause.

“Okay. I am married. But I’m here with you right now, Y/n. Because I’d rather be here with you. Wish I could be here every night. And I would if I could.”

You nodded. You knew he’d prefer to fuck you rather than his wife. That part was understood. But he’d never actually choose you over her when it came down to it. “I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just… I’m starting to…” You swallowed the words your heart wanted to reveal but you stopped, “Just want to see you more I think. Once a week or every other week isn’t good for me. Need you more. I think that’ll make me better. I’m sorry… I don’t know –“

Harry shushed you and stroked your back softly, “I want to see you more too, baby. Should we think of a way to make it twice or three times a week even? Will that make it better?”

You smiled and nodded, “Three times a week? Oh my god…” You kissed him and squealed at the idea of having him three times a week.

Harry laughed and nodded, “If it makes you happy. Didn’t know you needed more, honey. Didn’t want to make you sick of me.”

You laughed in return and shook your head, “I could never be sick of you, Harry. I’m…” You stopped yourself once again. The words on the tip of your tongue but that wouldn’t be fair. To you nor to him. “I’m happy you want that too.”

Harry’s fingers on your face felt soft and comforting, “Of course I want that. I want you happy. And that would make me happier too.”

You felt dizzy with love and excitement as you pasted your lips to his and began to rock your hips slowly again.

You knew you were selfish. Knew you were getting in too deep but you didn’t care. Maybe down the road one day it would hurt but for now, you would be happy with anything he gave you.

Suddenly Harry shifted and brought his arm to cradle you close as he laid you down flat on the couch, his thick cock still inside of you. But now he was hovering over you with a dark smile on his face, “I need to fuck you like you’re mine. Show you I mean it,” he said as he pulled your legs up, calves pressed over his shoulders, and began to roll his hips into you. The springs in the couch cushions danced under your back and creaked as he picked up the pace.

You coughed out a moan and squished your exposed tits together. You still had on your shirt, tugged up above your tits, and your underwear, and Harry still had his clothes on, while his shirt was unbuttoned and his pants were down past his bottom. You were both the picture of neediness, not even bothering to take the time to undress fully.

Harry held onto the back of your thighs as he plunged in and pulled back to his tip, before plowing his cock into the hilt again. Every time his hips met the back of your thighs the sticky sound of your arousal on his cock was unmistakable.

He swatted at your thigh when you began to slip from his hold, your leg wobbling free from his shoulder, “Stay put. Keep your legs up,” he grunted.

You gasped and nodded, “Yes, sir…”

Every dip of himself into you felt divine. His cock pushing into your insides and slipping into your guts repeatedly was noisy and delicious.

Harry moaned, unable to hold back how good it felt to be inside of you.

You looked up at him and saw how gone he was. His soft raspberry lips were parted and his eyes were dark as he gasped and panted. His thrusts were becoming harder and sloppier and he was breathing hard. You wanted his come.

“Need it, Harry. Give it to me…” you whispered as you brought a hand up to his jaw and he kept his eyes on you. He was shaking with desire you could feel it.

“Fuck, honey…” he groaned and clenched his jaw. He wanted to make you come first but his own emotions were getting him keyed up and he was already leaking a steady stream of pre-come into your pussy with each stroke.

He stopped his motions and sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered a hand to your clit, “Need you to come first, okay? Then I’m gonna fill your pussy like you need, baby.”

With his thumb on your clit you cooed in ecstasy. You had no idea what you were saying as you felt electricity begin to thrum through your body, winding its way around your ribs and down your spine, and into your tummy where sparks began to turn to fire as he began thrusting into you again.

“Want you to fuck your come deep into my womb. Breed my pussy, sir…” You moaned your words unable to stop it.

Harry grunted and he popped his eyes open to look down at you in shock. He knew you were on birth control and knew it was highly improbable but still, your words had him reeling and feeding his breeding kink, something that had been dormant for many years. You tended to awaken old feelings he once relished in.

And he wasn’t sure if he actually want to get you knocked up but just hearing that fed into something deep and instinctual that had been pushed down. Something primal. You had unleashed a tsunami of emotions and now this?

He began to hammer into you and your legs fell from his shoulders as he fucked himself down into you so hard you saw stars and you gurgled as you came around him, unable to voice your dirty thoughts as your pussy pulsed and squeezed around him.

“Fuck!” Harry barked loudly when he felt you come and he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you’d tapped into, “Gonna knock you up. Fuck you til your all bred and full with my cock and my babies. That what you want? Stuffed full of me in every fucking way?”

Harry throbbed as he finally poured into you, pushing his cock into you as deep as he could manage, balls tucked up against your bum as he whimpered with each tight roll of his hips upward. Imagining his come seeping into you and having it stick. Getting you pregnant. Making you his forever.

He collapsed over you and slid his tongue into your mouth as you brought your arms around his back to keep him close.

Pure hedonistic, rapturous oblivion.

Your heart pounded as he kissed you and you felt him trembling in your arms just as you were in his.

You longed to speak the words you knew you felt but it wasn’t right. You’d want him to say it first. Wanted him to admit it. Wanted him to want you.

But Harry was feeling it all heavy and deeply just the same. His own longing to show you exactly what he felt and that even though he’d play off those words he spoke as he came inside of you, he meant it in a way. He’d love to see you pregnant with his babies. Have you as his own for good. Tell you what he felt deep down.

You smiled into the kiss and Harry pushed himself up to look down at you.

“Just what I needed, Harry. Always know how to make me feel so so good.” You pushed your fingers into his hair and gazed into his pretty eyes and watched as his grin widened.

“Mmm… Ditto. Need you more than just once a week, baby. I did mean that you know.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes to let that idea sink in a bit. Harry grunted as he moved and you suddenly felt a pinch at the back of your thigh and you laughed, opening your eyes.

“Did you hear me?”

You nodded, “Yes, sir. Three times a week is what you said. That sounds like as close to perfection as I could ask for.”

Harry nudged his nose to yours and let out a soft breath, “Just want more of you, baby.”

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chrollogy · 4 months

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JUST A LITTLE LONGER

— miya atsumu x f!reader

syn: The moment Atsumu asked you to come over, he knew he was hopelessly in love with you, especially after stupidly confessing his true feelings mid-orgasm. Though, he couldn’t help but lie about it just to keep you, even for a little longer.

18+ MDNI; friends with benefits!atsumu, nsfw, shameless smut, porn without plot, dry humping, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight angst towards the end, unrequited feelings, hurt/no comfort. divider: cafekitsune.

word count: 2.9k

notes: purely self-indulgent. i make up a lot of angsty smut scenarios w tsumu so yeah <3 also not beta read.

The moment you stepped foot into Atsumu’s apartment, everything felt foreign—the wooden floorboards creaking beneath both your weights, lips sealed together in a searing kiss, hot and heavy. All it took was one text message from Atsumu: ‘Come over?’ and you appeared right in front of his door in a flash.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unfamiliarity; any other person would have easily overlooked it but you knew him like the back of your hand. Naturally, Atsumu wasted little to no time seeing your bare body beneath his own, breathless above you like a carnal beast with pure lust, clouding all five senses. Tonight seemed a little different, though, he took his sweet time with you.

Both fully clothed atop his bed, you straddled his lap as Atsumu locked your lips in a sensual kiss—fingers that usually dug into your skin with desperation now gently tracing random shapes, ghosting hands caressing all over your body, leaving trails of goosebumps beneath them. Atsumu pulled away, both hands finding their place beneath your jaw, he looked up at you with a strange glint in the depths of his caramel eyes. Lust mixed with something you couldn’t quite understand but god, did it send icy shivers up your spine.

You returned his gaze, face dangerously near one another—hot breaths intertwining, locked in an endless dance as Atsumu carefully admired your face, really taking in its beauty. As if you were an exquisite piece of painting with intricate details. You watched as his honeyed eyes ever so slightly shifted, tracing every feature on your face, both thumbs caressing your heated cheeks.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You teased, a dainty smile forming upon your swollen lips. For a second Atsumu found himself considering it, hands that rested beneath your jaw twitching a bit, having the sudden urge to reach for his phone because you looked like absolute heaven. On any other night, Atsumu would have never relished in your beauty but he noticed the way his breath hitched and heart stuttered when you mirrored his gaze.

Nonetheless, he ignored your tease, swiping a thumb on your bottom lip, slowly dragging it down before releasing and going in for another kiss. This time, Atsumu didn’t press his face into yours, instead, he let you take control—something that rarely occurred. He subtly changed the way his lips moved against your own, letting you lead the kiss while he followed suit; pink lips parting to let your tongue explore his mouth. Atsumu moaned into the kiss, one hand resting on your hip to squeeze at it through the fabric, wordlessly urging you to move.

So you did, languidly guiding your hips across the obvious tent between his legs, earning a low whine of your name as he pulled away, letting his torso drop to the soft sheets beneath. Planting your palms on each side of Atsumu’s head, you moved your hips with eagerness, soft pants and moans filling the walls of his room. This was foreign, being on top of him and having your way with his body.

Atsumu always felt the need to be in control of everything—from the kisses all the way to the fucking. Always taking the lead and pulling you with him, wherever he went, you followed but not that you complained. Admittedly, it never failed to turn you on whenever Atsumu bent your naked body in all kinds of positions, easily manhandling you like a mere fucktoy but tonight felt oddly satisfying. Being in control, that is, even for just a moment.

Surely there were more where this came from—the admiring, the slow kisses, and now using him for your own pleasure—but for the meantime, you didn’t think anything of it. Atsumu slipped his hands beneath your shirt, palms sensually dragging up your abdomen to cup your breasts through your bra, squeezing and massaging.

“‘Tsumu . . Want you so bad.” You moaned desperately, as if you were the one who messaged him to come over.

“Ya have me. ‘M all yours . .” Atsumu breathed out, circling his palms around your waist to gently caress the bare skin. Fuck, since when did you look this breathtaking begging for him? Have you always been this beautiful? He knows the answer. You’ve always been beautiful in his eyes but in the heat of the moment where his hormones are all over the place, Atsumu seems to instantly forget about the way you looked, solely focusing on pleasure alone.

There was nothing wrong with it, after all, this agreement between the two of you was merely for sex—a quick fuck. No feelings, no strings attached, no making love.

But why did everything seem to be the complete opposite? Atsumu noticed the shift from the very moment he texted you to come over—heart racing a little faster as his thumbs hovered over the keyboard of his phone, nervousness setting in once the message was sent. Normally, Atsumu wouldn’t even think twice about it, the only thing in his mind was how he was going to fuck you.

This time, he considered your feelings. What if you were busy? What if you weren’t in the mood? So many what if’s that he almost took his message back if it wasn’t for your quick reply. Foreign was an understatement. Sure, his heart quickened every single time you came over but never did he feel the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach like he did now; the way his hands subtly trembled while reaching out to touch you.

He felt pathetic.

Next thing you knew, you were both naked and had switched positions—your bare back pressing onto the soft ivory sheets below. Without a doubt, Atsumu’s favourite position was to take you from behind on your hands and knees, lustful eyes keenly watching the globes of your ass bounce with every powerful thrust, his cock quickly disappearing and appearing between your sopping entrance.

But he wanted to see your face tonight. “Fuck. Just put it inside me, ‘Tsumu.” You let out a desperate whine, earning a genuine chuckle—not the ones he normally gave out that brimmed with nothing but tease. “Lemme taste ya, hm?” Atsumu didn’t bother letting you reply, placing a chaste kiss just above your eager entrance before licking a long, slow stripe up your slit. His tongue pressed flat against it, savouring the way your essence tasted against his taste buds, flavour lingering on the wet muscle.

A heated groan rumbled from his chest as he reached the top of your slit, pointing his tongue to prod past your wet folds.

Shaky fingers gripped Atsumu’s flaxen strands, tugging at the roots with the way his sinful tongue explored, and lapped at your insides like a madman. The tip of his nose pressed at your puffy clit as he ate your cunt with fervour, earning a string of incoherent words, face pushing further between the junction of your legs.

Pleasure prickled at your sweat-covered skin, gnawing at every fibre of your being as Atsumu deftly pleasured you with his tongue, not to mention skilfully maintaining eye contact in the midst of your thrashing hips. It was beyond sexy. Honeyed eyes, glossy with lust staring right into your soul—Atsumu stared at you with so much intensity that you couldn’t help but get sucked into the endless pit of caramel, hypnotising every fibre of your body, heightening the feeling of ecstasy.

Atsumu couldn’t help himself, satiating the painful ache between his legs by rubbing his hips beneath the ivory sheets. Your essence against his tongue drove him absolutely insane, as if a potent aphrodisiac causing him to lose every bit of sanity left—you tasted so fucking good that he just needed some kind of bliss to top it off. Who was he to deprive himself of a two-in-one pleasure?

The off-white walls of his room were filled with heavy moans and groans, the hot atmosphere weighing heavy on your sticky bodies as each passionate second passed. It was music to Atsumu’s ears, the way your dulcet moans shot straight to his cock, head spinning at how heavenly you sounded.

Circling your clit with the tip of his tongue a few more times, Atsumu pulled away, much to both of your dismay. Don’t get him wrong, he’d love to tongue-fuck you into oblivion but figured creaming around his cock was a better option. Fuck, just the thought of it made him salivate—it hasn’t even been a while since he’s had your cum coating his cock but holy hell was he desperate to feel it all again; the way your wet cunt shamelessly squelched—eagerly sucking him back in, the warmness of it, the sticky feeling. How lewd.

Atsumu didn’t think twice to seal you in yet another passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Your essence plastered across the bottom half of his face smeared against your own as he pressed himself further, as if the lack of distance wasn’t already enough. Without breaking the kiss, Atsumu deftly circled his digits around your wrists, binding them above your head with one hand while the other worked on resting a leg over his shoulder.

“How badly do y’want me?”

He panted, hot breaths mixing together, his lips hovering dangerously close against your own, teasingly pulling away as you chased for more.

Honeyed eyes gently traced across your features, blown pupils filled with carnal desire memorising the very sight before him—Atsumu brought a free hand up to your face, thumbing at your own essence messily scattered there before sticking the slender digit past your swollen lips. Muttered curses left his lips, the words slurring into the damp air of his bedroom like a broken prayer.

Atsumu never needed your words to tell how fucking badly you wanted him—all he needed to see were your glossy eyes, and furrowed brows as you stared up at him, nothing but a haze of lust clouding all your senses.

His heart stuttered; your eyes seemed to sparkle despite the lack of light. Atsumu thought you were the most beautiful woman he had laid his eyes upon.

A gentle peck on the tip of your nose caused you to flutter your eyes shut momentarily, unceremoniously bulging them open at the sensation of his blunt tip rubbing along your wet slit, taking his sweet, sweet time with you tonight. Atsumu let out one long groan from deep within his chest, caramel eyes threatening to close shut as he slowly inched his way inside your cunt—smooth, velvety walls tightly hugging his hard cock like it was made just for him.

He focused on the way your face contorted in pure bliss, brows knitting together to form a deep crease, lips parting to moan his name like a mantra.

Once fully sheathed inside you—the base of his cock snug against your entrance, Atsumu paused for a while, hand that supported your leg digging into your heated skin to ground himself. He stared down at you with hooded lids, chest heaving up and down as he relished the way your warm cunt hugged him. It was only for a moment but it felt like an eternity—getting lost in each other’s lustful gaze as the two of you connected in the most intimate way possible; almost like this wasn’t just a convenient release of pleasure anymore.

Almost like it wasn’t just a quick fucking session. As if Miya Atsumu was making sweet, sweet love to you.

Gone were the days of fucking each other like animals, like a distant memory of the past—a momentary blur. Moans reverberated throughout the room as Atsumu languidly pulled his hips back before fully burying his cock into you again; his cock twitched at your ecstatic expression. All because of him—pride bloomed in his chest along with the flutter of his lovesick heart. Oh, how smitten he was for you.

Atsumu’s hips picked up in speed, and so did both your moans—the once quiet room filled with nothing but soft sounds of pleasure quickly turned into something more lewd, and passionate. Ribbons of colourful curses, incoherent sentences, and each other’s names shamelessly bounced off the cream-coloured walls, mixing with the loud skin slapping, and squelches from where the two of you connected.

An icy shiver ran up your spine as Atsumu placed an open-mouthed kiss along your knee before craning his neck further to messily suck, and nip at your inner thigh, leaving small hues of dark purple and red. You chanted his name, back arching off the ivory sheets beneath as he changed the angle of his hips—the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot over, and over again.

“Ya like that?” Atsumu grunted, a pained tone leaving his lips.

He repositioned his hands, leaving the hold on your leg to travel up, up, up to intertwine each with your own—bending his body forward, your thigh pressed against your chest, allowing a deeper reach of his cock.

You and Atsumu never held hands during sex. Never. Whatever occurred in his lust-driven mind was beyond your understanding, not when he was balls deep inside you.

He pressed your hands into the mattress, using it as leverage to angle his cock deeper into your tight cunt, earning a loud whine of his name. “F-fuck . . ! Please don’t stop, ‘Tsumu!” You gasped, tears of pleasure threatening to wet your heated cheeks as Atsumu continued his relentless pace.

Your body jolted with each forceful thrust of his hips, moving further up the mattress as he ploughed into you. Oh, he was certainly not going to stop, even if he tried to, he couldn’t—the feel of your plush walls were way too addicting, mind spinning at how tightly you clung onto him despite his swift pace.

“S-so close.” Atsumu whined, hauling your body away from the soft mattress and closer to his own.

You now sat on his lap, one leg still over his shoulder—albeit, more uncomfortable now—and arms slung around his sweaty neck. Atsumu rested a hand on your waist, the other placed on your nape; he guided your limp body up and down his cock, eagerly bouncing you on him as endless whines left his lips. Tears rolled down your cheeks, the blunt tip of his cock delightfully kissing your cervix repeatedly, earning garbled moans from you.

“‘Tsumu!”

That was all he needed to know that you were close. Atsumu pulled you tighter against him—sweaty bodies sticking to one another, he held your face dangerously close to his, not quite enough to seal your desperate moans with a kiss. “Cum on m’cock. .” He let out a shaky whisper, hot breath fanning over your parted lips as his honeyed eyes found yours yet again. This earned one long moan of his name from you, throwing your head back in absolute bliss as shocks of pleasure electrified every fibre of your body. Your walls quivered around his cock, clenching hard before the knot deep in your stomach finally snapped.

Atsumu whined at the tightness, eyes shutting closed as he leaned his sweaty forehead against your own, strands of blonde sticking to his skin. His pace became sloppy, messily bouncing you on his cock as he focused on his own pleasure, and impending orgasm. Rapid pants filled both your ears as he neared his climax, uncontrollably whining anything and everything that came into his hazy mind, paired with a fucked out expression.

The coil inside Atsumu snapped, a loud whine of your name uttered into the air as his body violently convulsed from a dizzying orgasm. Fingers dug into your skin, leaving crescent shaped marks as he pulled you flush against him, incoherent, breathless babbling tumbling past his lips.

“I love you.”

If it weren’t for his blissful state, and hazy mind, Atsumu would’ve retracted his words the moment he felt your body stiffen under his hold—an obvious reaction from his stupid, lust-driven confession. You pulled away from his arms almost instantly, the latter’s body growing cold the moment he could no longer feel your warmth. Atsumu looked up at you through hooded eyes, a fog of pleasure still in control of his senses but it cleared away as soon as he saw your expression—as if he were thrown a cold bucket of water, completely sober now.Ecstasy drained from his body, now, sheer fear took over for what was to come next. So, he beat you to it,

“I didn’t mean it.” A rather defeated laugh from him. Lies.

“J-just the heat of the moment, y’know?” Atsumu scratched his nape, offering a sheepish smile in hopes of shoving his feelings down, down, down where it belonged. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to forget that unreadable expression on your face—it was anything but pleasant, like you’d seen a ghost.

Atsumu would be lying if he said his heart didn’t crack at that. You slowly nodded before fully removing yourself from him, and off the bed, clearly unsettled by his words. He reached his hand out of instinct but immediately remembered where the two of you stood, so he let it fall back on the mattress, a soft mocking thud slicing the deafening silence.

Looking at your tense form, Atsumu explained even more. The further words stumbled out his mouth, the deeper he shoved his feelings for you. Lies. Lies. Lies. He’s never heard himself tell so many lies all in one night, especially not to the woman he’s hopelessly in love with. It was ironic, really.

But that didn’t matter because for you, Miya Atsumu would lie endlessly if it meant keeping you around for just a little longer.

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saijspellhart · 4 months

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I keep rewatching She-ra (2018) on Netflix, and everytime I just melt over the romances. I love Entrapa and Hordak's progression of friendship to romance. The trust, the comfort, the bond between two awkward people who come from very different circumstances. The message of finding beauty in imperfection. Entrapta planting the seeds and concept of "loving youself" to Hordak.

And I absolutely adore the writing for Catra and Adora's relationship. Its exquisite. That popular fanfic trope of friends to enemies to lovers is captured so well in She-ra. Its drama, and angst, and tension, and a delicate dance of hate-loving. Its obsession and trauma, hurt and comfort. Its Catra realizing she is the problem in her relationships and taking a long look in the mirror. Its all the wonderful things people crave in a good messy fictional enemies to lovers.

Like mmmmm, god damn. The writer's were working magic with this show. They didnt even need to be half this competent and good, but they did and they were. They poured their hearts into constructing a rich and moving narrative with rich and complex relationships. I love them for it. I could wax poetry, and construct essays on how much the writing and relationships in this show are so intricately well written.

#she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #entrapta #hordak #catra #Adora #catradora #entrapdak

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alyrasturnz · 3 months

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PLEASE feed the chris girls bae!!! can u also do a fwb!chris x reader smut based off the song casual by chappel roan? also make it super angsty but with a happy ending thank you

CASUAL {{ chris sturniolo }}

summary — y/n and chris had agreed upon no attachment and no feelings, yet with each passing second, y/n found their emotions for chris deepening. the initial boundaries they set began to blur, as y/n's heart betrayed their intentions, growing more entwined with every shared moment and lingering touch. the simplicity of their arrangement gave way to a complex web of burgeoning affection, making it increasingly difficult to adhere to their original pact.

— smut && angst (happy ending)

warnings :: smut , oral (fem receiving) , degradation , semi-public

a/n ,, this made me feel so ICKY 😭 i hate writing smut

chris’ tongue danced within you, each movement a symphony of sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

you endeavored to stifle the sighs that threatened to escape, your breath hitching and your heart racing as the intensity of the moment enveloped you.

the world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the exquisite connection between you and chris, a testament to the unspoken desires that bound you together.

once more, you found yourself ensconced in the passenger seat, chris' head nestled comfortably in between your thighs, the intimacy of the moment a stark contrast to the mundanity of a typical wednesday night.

the quiet hum of the car seemed to echo the unspoken bond between you, a silent testament to the countless evenings spent in this familiar embrace.

“chris,” you whined, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair, becoming entangled in its softness.

as he brought his free hand up to your bare waist, his touch was a gentle caress, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within. the intimacy of the moment was palpable, each movement a silent conversation between your bodies.

his fingers traced delicate patterns on your clit, each stroke a whisper of unspoken desires.

the warmth of his breath mingled with the cool night air, creating a heady mix that left you breathless. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared longing and tenderness.

“i know, baby,” he whispers, his breath a warm caress against your sensitive clit, sending shivers down your spine.

his words hang in the air like a tender promise, before he closes the distance between you, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to explore the depths of your pussy once more.

the sensation is electrifying, a dance of passion that leaves you yearning for more, as the world outside dissolves into the background, leaving only the fervent connection that binds you together.

your thighs wrapped around chris’ head, a vice of desire, while your fingers remained entangled in his hair, guiding him deeper into the core of your being.

each movement was a silent plea, a testament to the fervent connection that pulsed between you, as you pushed him further into the depths of your longing.

“i'm so close,” you whine, soft moans escaping your lips like delicate whispers in the night, as chris inserts two fingers inside you. the sensation is a tantalizing blend of pleasure and anticipation, each movement drawing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

you let out a chain of moans, his name interwoven with them like a desperate incantation, as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. the intensity builds, each cry a testament to the overwhelming sensation coursing through you, drawing you ever closer to the edge.

“chris— fuck! oh my god, please, don't stop!” you practically scream, your voice a symphony of desperation and desire, as your legs begin to tremble uncontrollably.

each word is a fervent plea, a testament to the overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you.

“come on, you can do it, baby. give it to me.” he whispers, his voice a velvety caress, before shoving in an extra finger. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body jolting upward as waves of intense sensation ripple through you.

you whine as you feel the knot in your stomach snap, sending a torrent of your juices flooding through chris’ mouth.

the intensity of your release is both overwhelming and liberating, a cascade of pleasure that leaves you breathless and trembling.

his tongue continues to dance, savoring every drop, while your body quivers uncontrollably, each wave of ecstasy crashing over you like a relentless tide.

the room seems to blur around you, your senses consumed by the intoxicating blend of sensation and euphoria.

chris attempts to extricate himself from his position, but his head collides sharply with the roof of the car. "ow," he winces, a grimace spreading across his features. "it's cramped as fuck here."

a soft giggle escapes your lips as your hand gently rises to his cheek, caressing it tenderly. "yeah, we should head back to your place," you murmur, your voice laced with a hint of playful suggestion.

you carefully slide your skirt back on, the fabric whispering against your skin, before gracefully crawling over to the driver's seat. reaching out, you turn the air conditioning on full blast, feeling the cool air swiftly dispel the lingering heat.

you disengage the car from park and ease into motion, the hum of the engine filling the silence. suddenly, chris's hand reaches out, resting firmly on your thigh. this familiar gesture, fraught with unspoken tension, invariably sets off a chain of events that seldom conclude favorably.

"chris," you breathe out in a soft sigh as his fingers continue their intricate dance around your core. with each delicate movement, the heat within you intensifies, growing ever more fervent.

"please," you plead, your voice a whisper of desperation. your grip on the steering wheel tightens, the knuckles blanching to a stark white as tension coils within you.

"might wanna speed up, ma," he teases, a playful edge to his voice. his fingers accelerate, sketching elaborate shapes that, under different circumstances, you might have comprehended. but now, ensnared in a fog of mounting desire, their significance slips through your grasp.

as your speed increased, your whines grew in intensity, each one louder than the last, while his touch became progressively harsher, matching the escalating tempo of your movements.

you snapped your head to look at him, and there it was—the same infuriatingly smug smirk that adorned his face with such maddening consistency.

it was the smirk that ignited a tempest within you, a storm of conflicting emotions.

on one hand, it made you want to rip him apart, to unleash the fury that simmered just beneath the surface. on the other hand, it stirred a longing deep within you, a desire to close the distance and press your lips against his, to lose yourself in the warmth of his beautiful, infuriating face.

the duality of your emotions was overwhelming, a constant battle between the urge to destroy and the yearning to embrace.

"eyes on the road, ma," he murmurs, his voice a blend of gentle admonishment and quiet command.

his gaze, steady and unwavering, shifts to the road ahead, and instinctively, yours follow suit, mirroring his focus. the moment is charged with a silent understanding, a shared vigilance that binds you both to the path before you.

without warning, he thrusts a finger inside you, eliciting an involuntary jolt from your body. the sudden intrusion sends a shockwave through your senses, a blend of surprise and intensity that leaves you momentarily breathless.

chris withdraws his finger, and with that single motion, the ecstasy that once coursed through you vanishes, dissipating like mist in the morning sun. the sensation that had enveloped you in bliss is replaced by a hollow absence, a stark contrast that leaves you yearning for the return of that fleeting pleasure.

"chris!" you exclaim, disappointment flickering across your features, your voice a blend of longing and frustration. your core burns with an intense heat, drenched in the aftermath of unfulfilled desire, as the emotional tempest within you rages on.

"what?" chris inquired with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a knowing glint. you simply shook your head, a silent gesture laden with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

"nothing," you mutter, the words barely escaping your lips as you steadfastly refuse to swallow your pride. the defiance in your voice is a testament to the storm of emotions churning within you.

chris leans closer, his presence palpable yet just out of reach, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. "i know you want it," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur that sends shivers down your spine, teasing the boundaries of your resolve.

your hands grip the steering wheel with a fierce intensity, your nails biting into the supple leather as the engine roars like a caged beast unleashed. the vibrations of raw power resonate through the vehicle, echoing the storm of emotions that churn within your chest, each thrum a testament to the wild energy at your command.

your upper teeth sink into your bottom lip, the pressure a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of anticipation as you swiftly maneuver into the driveway. the car comes to an abrupt halt, the gear shift snapping into park with a decisive click, mirroring the urgency that propels your every movement.

chris lets out a soft, velvety chuckle, the sound resonating in the air like a whispered promise. as he gracefully opens the passenger seat door, you, with equal swiftness, swing open the driver's door.

propelled by an intense, unspoken urgency, you rush towards him, your movements fluid and driven. your arms encircle his neck, drawing him closer, and your lips meet his in a fervent union, a kiss that speaks volumes of hunger and passion, each moment a testament to the unrestrained desire that courses through both of you.

chris' hands find their way to your neck, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin, each touch a whisper of tenderness. his tongue engages in a fervent dance with yours, each movement a battle for dominance, a symphony of desire and power that leaves you both breathless and yearning for more.

chris pulls away, his once serene blue eyes now transformed into stormy seas of desire, pupils dilated and brimming with unspoken intensity. his hand glides to your wrist, the touch both commanding and electrifying, as he swiftly leads you into the depths of his home. each step resonates with the palpable urgency that courses through the air, a silent symphony of longing and anticipation.

you and chris traverse the dimly lit corridors of his house, the shadows dancing on the walls like silent specters. the soft glow of the ambient light casts a mysterious aura, each step you take together echoing with the promise of the uncharted moments that lie ahead.

chris swings the door open with a fervent urgency, his grip on your wrist tightening as he drags you inside his room.

the air is thick with a desperate need, his movements fueled by an uncontainable desire as he pulls you into his world, the room becoming a sanctuary for the passion that ignites between you.

you and chris lock eyes, the air between you charged with pure, unfiltered desire. the intensity of your gaze speaks volumes, a silent conversation of longing, before your lips collide once more in a fervent, passionate embrace.

chris pulls away once more, his breath heavy with anticipation. his voice, a low and commanding whisper, cuts through the silence: "strip," he says, the single word laden with the weight of his desire and authority.

you lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze unwavering as you deliberately, ever so slowly, begin to remove your top. each movement is a calculated act of retribution, a silent but potent revenge for the tantalizing torment he subjected you to in the car.

"you can be faster than that, i know you can," he says, his tone dripping with demand and impatience. the words slice through the air, a challenge wrapped in authority, urging you to hasten your movements.

a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, a silent declaration of defiance, as you ever so slowly begin to peel your skirt away. each deliberate movement is a tantalizing dance, a calculated tease that heightens the tension between you.

chris, his patience worn thin, strides towards you with resolute determination. in one swift motion, he pushes you onto the bed, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. his hands move with a primal urgency, tearing away the remaining fabric that clings to your body, leaving no barrier between you and his fervent desire.

"chris!" you scolded, your voice carrying a mix of admonishment and reluctant amusement. he merely chuckled in response, his laughter a deep, resonant sound. as his lips connected with your neck, a cascade of soft sighs escaped you, each one a testament to the intoxicating blend of pleasure and frustration that his touch elicited.

"i’ll buy you a new one," he whispers against your skin, his breath a warm caress that sends shivers down your spine. the hot air fans against your flesh, each word imbued with a promise that lingers tantalizingly in the charged space between you.

chris' fingers deftly trace a path to your core, their touch gentle yet insistent as they begin to draw soft, tantalizing circles. his lips, not content with mere proximity, descend to nibble at your skin, each bite a delicate blend of pleasure and anticipation that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

chris rises, and you can't help but let out a plaintive whine at the sudden, aching loss of his touch. the absence of his warmth leaves a void, a palpable longing that reverberates through your entire being.

"patience, baby," he tuts, shaking his head with a knowing smile. as he unbuckles his belt, the metallic clinking sounds resonate through the room, each one a tantalizing prelude that heightens your anticipation and sets your senses alight.

chris' pants fall to the floor in a whisper of fabric, revealing his length as he steps closer. each movement is deliberate, a symphony of anticipation that leaves you breathless and yearning.

he teases your folds, his tip gathering the slickness with each tantalizing glide. then, with a deliberate and measured motion, he begins to insert himself, the sensation drawing soft sighs from both of you, each breath a testament to the profound and intimate connection being forged in that moment.

"chris," you whimper, your voice trembling with a mix of longing and urgency. your hands seek refuge on his back, fingers curling and tugging at his skin, leaving a constellation of red marks in their wake, each one a vivid testament to the fervent passion that courses between you.

"you're so fucking tight,” he groans, his voice strained and laden with desperation. each thrust, a fervent plea, drives him deeper, his words punctuated by the rhythm of his movements, creating an intoxicating symphony of raw need and tender affection.

you let out a chain of loud moans and whines, your voice a cacophony of raw emotion. then, in a swift, almost instinctive motion, chris' hand flew to your mouth, muffling the sounds and intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

"shhhh," he shushed you, his voice a soft, commanding whisper.

"you can keep quiet for me, right, baby?" he asked, his gaze piercing into yours. you nodded, releasing his hand from your mouth, the air thick with unspoken understanding. "good. we wouldn't want matt or nick finding out, would we?" he continued, his tone laced with a hint of danger, as you shook your head no, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

chris' thrusts grew increasingly erratic, each one more desperate than the last. in a bid to stifle your rising cries, you brought your wrist up to your mouth, biting down hard on it, the pressure a futile attempt to contain the torrent of sounds threatening to escape.

the knot in your stomach tightened, coiling with an almost unbearable intensity as you looked at chris desperately. "close..." you managed to croak out, your voice barely a whisper, laden with urgency and need.

"hold it. i know you can," he commanded, his thrusts growing faster, each one a testament to his relentless drive. “take it like the slut you are," he demanded, his voice a mix of authority and raw desire.

tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering like fragile crystals, as you struggled to stifle your cries, the effort almost unbearable.

"fuck... this pussy was made for me," chris murmured, his voice rough with possession, as his thrusts became erratic, each one a testament to his fervent claim.

chris looked at you, his pupils completely dilated, eyes darkened with an almost predatory intensity. "give it to me. cum on my dick, baby.” he demanded with a smirk, his thrusts quickening, each one more insistent than the last.

he didn't have to tell you twice. the knot in your stomach snapped, an overwhelming wave crashing through you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your legs violently shook, your body jolting upwards with an uncontrollable force.

chris soon reached his peak, his cum mingling with yours deep within, as his thrusts gradually slowed, each movement a lingering testament to the intensity of the moment.

chris soon then pulled out with a pop, the sound echoing through the room. he slid his pants back on with practiced ease before settling onto his bed, immediately engrossed in the luminous screen of his phone, the moment already fading into the background.

you rolled your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips as you rose to cleanse yourself. you walked into his bathroom, the cool tiles beneath your feet a stark contrast to the heat of the moment just passed. with a swift motion, you turned the shower on, the water cascading over you, washing away the remnants of your shared encounter, each droplet a whisper of the night's intensity.

you knew you were just casual, and it wasn't his duty to care for you, but you found yourself drifting towards him like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. each encounter left you yearning for more, despite the knowledge that your connection was fleeting and ephemeral.

you then stepped out of the shower, the steam lingering in the air as you reached for chris' towel, its softness enveloping you as you dried yourself. you walked back into his room, the cool air meeting your skin. you opened his drawer, your fingers grazing the fabric within, retrieving a sweater and a pair of boxers. you paused, the moment stretching as thoughts swirled in your mind.

your favorite bra.

you slam his drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as aggravation floods through your veins. chris' head lifts up, his eyes meeting yours, a silent inquiry hanging in the charged air.

"you okay?" chris furrowed his eyebrows, concern etching lines across his forehead as he searched your face for answers, the weight of the moment pressing down upon both of you.

"i'm fine," you grit through your teeth, the words barely escaping your lips as you stride towards his bathroom, the tension in your movements palpable. you slam the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the space like a final, resolute punctuation.

chris mentally groaned, the exasperation evident in his eyes as he followed behind you. he knocked on the door, the sound a hesitant yet insistent plea for understanding.

"do you want to talk about it?" chris mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, laden with a mixture of concern and uncertainty, each word a gentle probe into the depths of your silence.

"no," you say bluntly, the curt response slicing through the air as you methodically put on your clothes. chris rolls his eyes, a silent gesture of exasperation that speaks volumes.

"this isn't working, chris," you finally snap, the frustration bubbling over as you swing the bathroom door open with a force that makes it rattle on its hinges. "my favorite bra lives in your dresser, chris! and your mom invites me to your family vacations! how, in any conceivable world, is any of that casual?"

chris sighs, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of weary resignation. "we agreed to keep things simple," he mutters, his eyes darting away from yours, unable to hold your gaze.

"simple?" you scoff, the word tasting bitter on your tongue like unripe fruit. "there's nothing remotely simple about this, chris. i yearn for more, i need more."

he shakes his head, the lines of his face hardening into a mask of resolve. "i can't give you that," he says, his voice devoid of warmth. "it's not what i want."

you feel a surge of anger, your voice rising like a storm. "so what am i to you, then? a fleeting distraction? just someone to keep your bed warm on cold nights?"

"it's not like that," he says, his tone laced with defensiveness. "i do care about you, but i'm not prepared to venture into something more profound or serious."

"care about me?" you echo, incredulity seeping into your voice. "if you truly cared, you'd desire to be with me, genuinely be with me, not merely when it suits your convenience."

chris takes a deep breath, his frustration palpable. "i never promised you anything beyond this," he states, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "you knew what this was from the very beginning."

"maybe i did," you admit, your voice trembling. "but feelings change, chris. people change. i thought maybe you felt the same way."

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice softening. "i can't be what you want me to be."

the silence that follows is heavy, laden with unspoken words and shattered hopes. the room feels colder, the distance between you growing with every passing second.

"fine," you say softly, storming out of his room, leaving him alone with his tumultuous thoughts. he closes his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath as a maelstrom of emotions and reflections whirl through his mind.

»--•--«

on the following morning, you find yourself once more at his threshold, the burden of unresolved matters pressing upon your very soul. With a delicate rap upon the door, he appears, his gaze a tumultuous sea of astonishment and expectancy. “i came to get my bra,” you utter, your voice a calm façade, yet tinged with an undercurrent of latent tension.

he steps aside, his silent invitation laden with the weight of unsaid words and emotions that hover like ghosts between you. as you make your way towards his room, he trails behind, the air dense with the echoes of yesterday's confrontation, each step amplifying the palpable tension that lingers in the space between you.

"i didn't expect for you to come back so quickly," he confesses, his voice scarcely rising above a whisper, each word a fragile thread in the tapestry of the moment.

"i don’t plan on staying,” you respond, your tone cool and detached, like a distant winter breeze. “just here to get my things and go.”

he watches as you move around the room, gathering your belongings with a determined efficiency, each motion a testament to your resolve. "i've been doing some thinking," he murmurs, his voice hesitant yet imbued with sincerity. "and i realized... i actually like you. more than i thought."

you pause, turning to face him, your eyes locking onto his with an intensity that speaks volumes. "sometimes, intentions aren't enough," you say softly, the weight of your words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. "sometimes, actions speak louder."

he takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, the space between you shrinking with each deliberate step. "i know," he says, his voice imbued with a quiet determination that resonates in the stillness. "that's why i want to show you. give me a chance to prove it."

you look into his eyes, seeing the genuine emotion that lies within them. your heart softens, the walls you've meticulously built around it beginning to crumble. "okay," you say, a small smile forming on your lips, a fragile yet hopeful gesture. "let's see where this goes."

he smiles back, relief and happiness evident in his expression, a radiant glow that lights up his features. "thank you," he whispers, his voice a tender caress, as he pulls you into a gentle embrace.

he cups your face with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheeks before his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels both urgent and timeless. though it has been only a day, a mere collection of fleeting hours, the sensation is as if centuries have passed, each moment apart stretching into an eternity, making this connection all the more profound and poignant.

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alpydk · 3 months

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I've had a brainworm (tadpole?) that won't leave my head.

How would Gale's partner (Tav or Origin) react to him unintentionally saying Mystra's name during sex?

I don't think he would say it as his ex, but rather an exclamation ("Oh Gods", "By Mystra", etc).

I know I wouldn't be pleased. 😵‍💫

"By Mystra"

Anon, you are a miracle worked because I loved writing this. Like this is literally smut that I did not cringe my way through or go ugh why... Like I actually sent a quote to someone whilst writing this in a mini celebration of enjoyment. Really so much fun, so thank you. - I will say though it's probably not what you wanted at all. Oops. (Or maybe it is, I'm not a psychic.)

Word count : 1570 - M/E - It's Smut, there's nothing but smut here. I couldn't even angst this fucker up. - Gale x Tav (F)

The evening had gone along as it normally would. Gale and Tav entertained his mother with the local gossip of Waterdeep, fresh tea leaves releasing their aroma into the study, the odd whisper shared between the happily married couple. The sun was now making its leisurely stroll towards the horizon and Tav had now moved onto round two of the game she affectionately liked to call Nimble fingers, ill intent. The first round would be innocent enough, the odd remark about how he looked nice when sat in certain positions or a passing comment about times they had spent alone given with a sultry look. “Oh yes, I remember that tavern, Morena. The detail on the oak bed posts were exquisite. Real craftsmanship.” Round two was based more on the physical aspects of distraction and competition: the lick of a teaspoon after eating dessert, the run of her hand along his thigh under the dinner table, the whisper in his ear of how she seemed to have forgotten her underwear. “Oh, it was nothing Morena, a quick reminder about a certain someone’s birthday.”

These nights were still as enjoyable as they were the first time around a campfire. Hands slipped under robes, concentration lapsing into yearning, travelling companions none the wiser of the exploits taking place. She would make him forget all logic, all reason, all devotion he ever had to his goddess.

He couldn’t get rid of his mother quick enough as he watched Tav lean over the coffee table to collect up the cutlery, her lilac shirt hanging a little lower than suitable and knowingly it was in full view of him. He saw the way her breasts hung against the cloth, the line of her cleavage drawing his gaze without mercy. After so much teasing, he didn’t just want her; he needed her desperately, as if he had been trapped underwater and she was his only source of air to breathe.

As the entrance door of the tower closed, signalling Morena’s exit, Gale was quick to press Tav to the wall of the stairwell; her wrists bound under his firm hand, the other travelling under the fabric of her shirt to place its mark on the previously taunting flesh. His lips found hers with an intensity he refused to hold back on, more eager than his well-mannered nature with his mother had let on. They navigated the stairs up to the tower quickly, a trail of cotton and leather left in their wake.

Heated kisses were placed over naked bodies, his flushed lips along her neck, her wanting hands travelling from his abdomen to his hips. The royal blue sheets of the bed were always the goal, but rarely did they make it there, instead ending up on the daybed or, more often, the scarlet floral rug that lay at the foot of the bed. From there, he would see her lying and waiting, her body moistened and ready for him, her eyes beckoning him with a love he would give himself to again and again. For a thousand nights, he would worship her in so many ways: some nights slowly with a tender caress of her inner thigh, others more playful, a nibble of her shoulder, and the teasing of his fingertips. Within the four walls of the bedroom, he was the one in control; he was the god to a single follower.

He nudged her leg aside with his own, climbing towards her, his urges to take her driving him forward with little thought of anything else. It was as he took her nipple in his mouth, the flick of his tongue creating the unwilling whimper emerge from her, that he felt her hand push him ever so slightly. This was new, a sign of dominance from one who normally welcomed his practiced tongue so openly.

He accepted the reaction, Tav’s hands coming up to his shoulders, rolling him to his back with a tentative push. He lay beneath her, her legs straddled over his hips, her breasts hanging just above his chest. His heart beat with an intensity he only felt as she teased, the devious look in her eyes telling him this wouldn’t be as easy as an impromptu lanceboard match. She held herself above him, the heat of her cunt drawing him in. He craved her touch, yearned to be inside her and have her entirely and yet she watched him, waited for his control to falter as it always did around her.

“Please...” He whispered underneath her. He would not beg, nor would he lower himself to that level of pleading he'd done so long ago, but he would ask if that is what she wanted of him. He would do anything for her if it meant he could show his love for her.

She sunk down onto him, her pace relaxed, her hands sliding their way up his chest. He felt the slow roll of her hips, his own body instinctively retorting with an impatient jolt. She stopped and sat up above him, a disappointed sigh that told him he’d done something wrong.

“My apologies... I... I became too eager-“

She rose and took him again in one quick thrust, a command that she was in charge. Without warning, he let out a deep growl, his self-control slowly unravelling with the growing intensity of her movements. He could feel the way her hand held down his shoulder, the fingernails of the other embedding themselves in the skin of his abdomen. What were once relaxed whines were slowly becoming the sputtered moans of his name through gritted teeth. She was fighting this as much as he was and he could feel the way her body was arching, trying to hold back on a climax that threatened to break through at any moment.

He closed his eyes, the symphony of ecstasy ringing in his ears, his body still accepting her pace despite how much he wished to just grab her and fuck her. He neared his precipice, one he had fallen from so many times with Tav, one he would happily fall from a thousand times more and he parted his lips, the sensation too much to contain. “By Mystra...”

Tav’s movements stopped suddenly, an abrupt silence that took him a moment to register before realising what had happened. She looked down at him with a combination of confusion and offense. “Did you just...?”

He felt the icy chill in the pit of his stomach, his practised tongue letting him down the moment he wasn’t the one in control of the situation. He hadn’t meant it as anything but an exclamation of pleasure, but he knew it was not the most welcome name after all that happened, especially when said in the bedroom. “Tav, I did not mean-“

She broke him off with another quick roll of her hips, a smirk curling upon her reddened lips. “Say it again.”

Gale looked at her with confusion. “Say what exactly?”

Tav bucked against him, an irritable look in her eyes. “Her name. Say it again.”

He was unsure what she meant, the rules of their game changing with each state of play. Lanceboard had been left in the dusty halls of the library; now they played a completely different game of strategy, one where he was but a novice. “Mystra...” he spoke with an uncertainty in his tone.

This time Tav’s movements were gentler, slower, and more deliberate. His head leaned back onto the rug, the red fibres weaving with his brown locks.

“Again,” she commanded.

He obeyed without doubt. “Mystra...”

She smiled, her hands moving from his shoulder down to his hips, her back arching, and pelvis tilting ever so slightly, allowing him to feel her in full. With each jolt he felt his muscles begin to tremble, the goddess’ name gasped through worshipping lips. And yet he prayed not to her but to the goddess that wrapped her thighs around him, the one whose sweat beaded with his own, the one that called his name as her hands found his.

She tightened around him, all control gone, nothing else mattering but the fought off release that now consumed her senses. She let out one guttural cry, only interrupted by the deep thrusts as Gale chased his own orgasm. What had been the Lady of Magic’s name had now become the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Tav sputtered out as wave upon wave of pleasure erupted forth from him, as muscles grew taut and his body buried itself into as far as it possibly could.

She fell limp around him, his arm wrapping around her in a loving embrace as he pulled her onto the floor with him. Their skin glistened with sweat, the air now humid, the only sound being their panted breathing as they regained their composure. The sensation of a light charge brushing against his skin brought him to smile, a devilish knowing of exactly what Tav had done with her control over him. The goddess’ name, spoken in worship, in devotion, would of course have drawn her attention, if only for a moment. He placed a soft kiss on Tav’s forehead, tonight’s game most assuredly her victory.

“With you, I forget my goddess...” She titled her head up to look at him, an almost innocent gaze in her eyes. “I just wanted to make sure that was still the case.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #pure dirty smut #angst free #you're all a bad influence on my innocent mind #I blame aurora especially for her bulge sitting

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guesst · 5 months

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MANHWA REC LIST PART 3 courtesy of @ihavenobigbrain

have tried my best to put in all the nice platonic manhwas i’ve read! theres still a bunch of romance but fun and games and lightheartedness is the main focus of these for sure 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

first of all i will rec the obvious and popular ones so they dont get missed becuse they are Popular for a Good Reason:

the s classes that i raised (super good, ive read the novel mostly but the manhwa is JUST as great. mc is collecting people like pokemon)

trash of the counts family (amazing art, little dragon child, mc is collecting people like pokemon)

also gonna plug some ones from the previous rec posts just cus i truly believe they are some of the best non romance manhwa: susu, han; i see you; the tale of goldiluck the black kitten

okay onto the actual recs !

WHEN THE THIRD WHEEL STRIKES BACK

HILARIOUS. genuinely so good, pretty underrated too (in that i havent seen anyone talking about this?) but it has a main character who isekais into a second male lead and decides to stay awayy from the leads — this fails miserably, obviously, and its comical. the misunderstandings, the unlucky run-ins… also the mc is a priest and theres a pretty interesting magic system and worldbuilding!! and as a final bonus the art is nice. genuinely so fun to read, highly recommend

A STEPMOTHER’S MARCHEN

favourite manhwa of all time tbh its the only one ive bought a physical copy of (so far, anyway.. hehe). has a romance sub plot but the characterisations, relationships, plot development etc is exquisite. the family relationship takes precedence here especially in the first few arcs, the characters are REALISTIC, the art is gorgeous…, i love it so so much highly rec if you havent read it already. i guess this doesnt fall as much into light-hearted, because there are quite a lot of heavy moments… but its nicely balanced out with the comedy n all so i’ll put it in anyway :]

SCHOOLMATE FRIEND

super cute! this one is a school romance and it doesnt have many chapters out but its simple and the two mains are adorable. its a nice fluffy read and the artstyle is also lovely.

THE DEMON KING DAD AND HIS HERO DAUGHTER

jdjsjd can you tell how this goes from the title? speaking of which i type it from memory and i cant find the tab i had it open in so it might actually be “his daughter the hero” not “his hero daughter”… not sure. anyway i havent read much of this one but the first few chapters alone had me screaming the dad and his lackey are idiots please read it for him. he loves his daughter but this is backfiring on him so badly djrnfj

^ idiot lackey, everyone

RETURN OF THE WAR GOD

you would assume the war god goes to war! but no. he picks up a little girl and then he’s like. ok mine now. and the rest of the manhwa is spent getting money out of people and living in the woods in his homemade mansion with his daughter and the mamy many sidekicks that they pick up along the way. lovely art, lots of funny moments, plenty of action -- this is a martial arts story -- n the side characters are great (especially the governor lol) .

SCREW THE NOBLE LIFE, I’M GOING HOME

there arent many chapters out for this one (24 i think?) but im so invested already. as it stands this is centred entirely around the isekai’d main character and her new family, there is a heavy dose of angst about identity issues but every chapter has a new misunderstanding and it has me rolling fr ,, oh also the mc’s new brothers are her stepsiblings but they shoot down that romance route really fast and their relationships are so entertaining if it keeps going the way it is this will definitely become a favourite. heres an out of context foot pic

SIGRID

AMAZING TRULY AMAZING the character arcs in this one are so !!! yummy !!! mc time travels n endeavours to correct her actions n save people and in the process makes sm friends and all the characters have depth and grow and theyre all so !!! lovable !!!! the friendships in this one are amazing even without the romance subplot (and also speaking of romance, its a slow burn mainly cus sigrid is as dense as a brick but its NOT frustrating because it actually makes sense for her character!! like im usually the first one to move on from a thick fl but honestly you cant help but cheer them on) its so so good, i love it

THE MEANING OF YOU

this one is an isekai romance with again some lovely character arcs :D the main character is pretty depressive but its also got plenty of light/funny moments to balance it out, and the plot centres around her learning to take care of herself and becoming more confident,, i love the characters a lot ! they care a lot. the romance does get a bit cheesy at times but it really is so wholesome with solid characterisation n its completed too so you have a nice 3am read.

HOW TO BE A DARK HERO’S DAUGHTER

urgh one of the best kid leads ever, plenty of plot and the art is gorgeous as well like its a winner all around okay. as it stands its on an indefinite hiatus (author had cancer and i assume is still recovering or just taking a break for a while) but season one is already completed and its an excellent family centred read with a few mysteries scattered here n there also did i mention the entire family is so yummy. im so gone for the butler fjddjdnndd

MY BROTHERS, THE PROTAGONISTS

simultaenously super funny and somewhat angsty. this is one of those dungeon manhwa but the caveat is each of the mc's brothers has a different trope going on (time travel, became demon king, isekai'd) while mc is a decent potion maker and has to deal with all their bullshit (affectionate). it handles family issues and balances it with comedy perfectly. the main character is really really likeable and you cant help but cheer her on. so far its almost entirely platonic but i spy a few male leads lol

MY CUTE BEAST!!!

romance manhwa again !! fjdmcjf the author of this one looked at all the classic miscommunication and misunderstanding tropes and noped the fuck out its so easy to read because you will NOT stress out and the male lead is so cute also. they play with the typical gender roles so fl has the knight aura while the ml is the damsel. its great and the characterisations are also awesome. big big fan. look him

WEE!!

iirc this is actually either malaysian or indonesian, not korean i think..? its mostly slice of life iirc n its been like.. 2 years since i read it so the humour might be . slightly outdated haha,, the cast is pretty diverse which is cool and there are a few angsty backstory chapters scattered here and there but on the whole it is chock full of shits and giggles if you want silly times. the only caveat is there isnt an official translation afaik so like… fan translation will have to do djfnc

A FREE RIDE EVERYDAY

back to romance ! romance manhua this time, slice pf life office type of thing and its pretty much just fluff. its a cute low stress read for times where u just want to sit down n smile about something and the characters r not thick about everything like they can be in SOME romances fjfnf and also the art is lovely! look at the cover, thats what its like the whole way through.

PURRFECT WORLD

mad underrated djfhdn it’s pretty chill, its a story about a human girl working at a salad restaurant on a planet full of cats. the art is super cute, the cats have jobs and all but they also act like cats and its great dhsks like the owner of the restaurant likes to sit in random cardboard boxes. its been a while since i read it but there is not much romance (if at all??), but plenty of cats and shenanigans. heehee

read it for him !! its also complete and its not particularly long either btw forgor to say

ONI NO KO

this one … i think is a manga actually? in colour?? its about a random oni kid that gets picked up by a high schooler’s family. very very cute art, it’s short and sweet and i will repeat very cute.

look him! hes so small ! he likes baseball!!

BONUS REC which doesnt fit the mood but i think more people should read it: the goldfish osushi. i wont elaborate anymore but its truly… your heart will be touched after it lol

also if anyone has more to add to this list (preferably things u think r underrated !! and no orv because everyone automatically recs that to me and im tired ajfndn) please do i would also like recs. also also if anyone has requests i love making lists

#manhwa #manhwa recs

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nishayuro · 2 years

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To our highest of highs, to my lowest of lows. Genshin Impact Imposter! Au

Self Aware Genshin AU (SAGAU)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

GN! Reader

Summary: Waking up not in your room and in a grassy plain with a blue sky is definitely not what you thought would happen, so is being in the world of one of your games.

Part 1 , Part 2

Waking up in Teyvat, realising that it's probably not a dream, you start to panic a bit. “Oh god, how did this happen… uhh okay I have my phone…” you whispered, taking your phone and looking at the screen. You observed that there are no characters in your party, nor in your character page, you checked your inventory, nothing. “This is like starting from square one all over again, except I’m in actual Teyvat and I have no vision nor experience in weaponry…” You complained.

You opened the map area to see that you are at the peak of Starsnatch Cliff, from there you can see the city of Mondstat. “Hmm, Let’s see if waypoints will work for me” you said, choosing to teleport to the statue of the seven at Windrise.

A wave of dark fog engulfed you and when it dispersed, you were standing in front of an Anemo statue. “Now, I wonder what happens if I…” you mumbled, reaching towards the statue. A light of blueish green appeared and surrounded you. “So… Do I have Anemo powers now?” you asked yourself, ‘anemo!’ you thought and did a pushing motion. A gust of wind came out of your hands. “Yow!! I have powers now!!” you exclaimed. “Alright, time to head to Mondstat!” You said, looking at your map as a guide.

You traversed the terrain surprisingly easily with the help of your phone as a map. While you were walking, you spotted a group of hilichurls with their towers in the making setting up camp. ‘Uh oh…’ you thought, trying your best to remain calm, now it has settled into you that Teyvat is a dangerous place to wonder about. Monsters lurked almost everywhere. You tried to walk away from them but seemingly so, one has spotted you, immediately telling its peers of your presence, they ran towards you.

‘Oh shit- I should run!’ and you did, but just as you were about to lose them, you tripped.

You looked back in fear as they closed the distance, you braced yourself to protect you if they attacked, but lo and behold all they did was drop to their knees with a bow.

“Wh-what…?” you questioned, confused with what's happening. You saw a family of dendro slimes approach you, hesitantly you reached towards them, the slimes immediately relishing in your touch. You realised you weren’t in any danger right now and these mobs were only being friendly. ‘I’m so sorry for always attacking you all in game… I kinda needed the materials T-T ‘ you thought.

After a while you got up and bid them goodbye. You walked towards the city gates of Mondstat. Although the teleport waypoints were available, you wanted to get the opportunity to explore the world on your own and maybe find chests on the way. Lucky for you, you managed to find some common and exquisite chests, containing trinkets, mora and some weapons.

“Hmm… A polearm or the sword…?” you decided to take both. As you went to pick them up, you realised something, “Oh… I don’t have a bag…” you said out loud. You grabbed the polearm but then it disappeared. “Wha-” confused, you opened your phone and went to your inventory. “Ohh! They automatically go in the inventory? Cool! But… how do I wield it though…” excitedly, you tried thinking of the polearm. ‘Pls work pls work pls work… I summon the polearm’. You felt some metal in your hands and to your excitement, the polearm was in your hands. “Cool!! So that’s how the characters summon their weapons!!” you exclaimed.

“Now to put it back… usually they do this…” you say, doing a sheathing motion. The weapon dissolved into particles and attached itself to your back, disappearing after some time. “This is soo cool!!” you say to yourself as you continue your walk.

In the palace south of dragonspine, Barbatos runs into the throne room, alerting the guards and the divine creator. “Your grace! This imposter is no ordinary folk, they managed to acquire the power of Anemo! I felt it!” the Anemo archon exclaims.

“Well, that must mean their destination is Mondstat. Have the acolytes patrol the city and the wilderness, their destination should be the city. Remember, bring them back to me alive.” the fake creator orders, a cold tone present in their words.

“Yes, your grace.” Barbatos bows, and rushes out of the room to inform the Knights of Favonius about the order.

‘Your downfall will be my victory, only one can remain, and you, true one, will die in my hands. You will have never existed, and I shall be the true ruler. For what is a land abandoned by its owner if not property of its new founder’ the imposter thought, a ghost of a smile creeping into their face.

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Taglist (Reply to be added) : @shizunxie, @itsyourgirlria

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #divine creator! reader #teyvat's creator #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin fluff

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helaelaemond · 1 year

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All Things End - Osferth x reader

For @arcielee's 1k celebration - thank you for being such a wonderful supporter to so many writers in this little community, and for writing the most exquisite pieces yourself.

Pairing: Osferth x reader (not gender-specific - his rejection of marriage can be because you are a woman, but he is a cursed bastard, or you are not a woman and pre-medieval queer marriage is just not quite accepted, damn it!)

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Knowing that everything will end should not change our plan. Osferth is dead, and his lover remembers their last conversation before they parted.

Content warning(s): major character death, angst, no happy ending

Rating: Gen/Teen

Masterlist

Notes: No porn and no plot? It's more likely thank you would think. Not tagging the usuals as I'm unsure if this is what you want to read as you usually only get smut from me.

They are back. They are back! The streets begin to fill with people crowding close to greet Uhtred and his men back, and you look for the sandy hair of your tall man. It feels so long since you have set eyes upon him, although it is never as many weeks as it feels. Some of the men are cheerful to be back. Some are grim faced. Less return than left.

You do not normally approach Uhtred. It is not your place, after all, but you can't see your man. Your Osferth. "Lord?" you ask hopefully. "Where is he?"

He looks at you for a long moment, and rests his hand on your shoulder. Something akin to ice prickles across your skin. At his side is Finan. Your eyes are drawn to the cross about his neck.

The smile on your face is frozen. "Where is Osferth?"

Slowly, Finan's face begins to crumple. His hand goes to the cross on the string, and he bows his head. "I tried, I really-"

It's like he can't bear to face you, to face what happened. He tries to turn away but you catch him. He is not your friend, and you never spent much time together before, but you know how much Osferth loves him, how much Finan loves him in return. "You tried to what?"

"I couldn't save them both."

Strange, how it feels, when a smile pulls back over one's teeth until it's ghastly and fearsome. When all beauty is gone, and in its place is terror. "What are you saying?"

"I..." At his side, Ingrith squeezes his hand.

She looks at you sadly. "He saved me. But... he died. He's with his God, now."

Finan's jaw tenses and he gulps in air. When they walk away, you are left alone. Somewhere out there, your sweet love rots.

Osferth laid his head on your chest and began tracing shapes across your skin. You glanced down at his sandy hair and smiled, threading your fingers through it. He let out a quiet hum of approval. His lips were warm when he pressed a kiss against your sternum.

"I won't be away long," he promised. "I never am."

"Do you think it never feels long, because you are always having adventures?" you asked.

He smiled against your stomach as he moved down your body. "Maybe."

"It's dull without you."

"You could always come with me, you know?"

You gripped his hair not unkindly, and tugged him to look up at you. How pretty his mouth was when he smiled. "I don't like it when you go. I grow weary of it."

The smile turned into a grimace, one side of his lip pulled up, and one eye closed. "It is my duty. I'm sworn to it."

"And when will you swear to me?"

Osferth knelt on the bed between your thighs and sighed. His hands ran down your legs and settled around the backs of your knees. One swift yank pulled you to him, and he wrapped your legs around his waist. "I cannot swear to you."

"Why not? Finan has sworn to his wife, and Sihtric to his. That doesn't prevent them from fulfilling their oaths to your lord."

He bit his lip and shook his head. It was a discussion that you had already had many times. He did not budge, and neither did you. "It's different for them than it is for us. I'm sorry."

Rolling away from him, you got off the bed in frustration and pulled on a linen shift. The idea of feeling his skin on yours felt overwhelming now. "There are only so many times that I can survive your rejection, Osferth."

"My love," he murmured softly. He reached out a hand to you that you ignored. "I do not reject you. It is simply that... we cannot marry. And as we cannot marry, I will swear to you no oaths and bind you with no promises."

"Do you want me to find someone who will marry me, then?" Your voice was cool, and your arms were crossed over your chest. You were hurting, and it was a cruel instinct, but hurting him back in the moment soothed you. Once your tempers had evened, it would feel even worse, though.

Osferth got up from the bed and walked over to you with kindness in his eyes. He stood in front of you, tall and slender, and guided your head up with a hand under your chin. "I would see you be happy, my love. If that means finding someone else to love and marry, then yes, that is what I want."

It was the wrong thing for him to say, not what you wanted to hear. It was kind in its own way, but a lie would have been kinder. You wanted to be possessed by him completely, for him to need you more than anything and have you at any cost, but- but that was not in his nature. He was kind.

You shook your head and looked down. "What are we doing, Osferth?"

He bit his lip nervously. His hands went to your shoulders. "We're trying to get it right."

A lump rose in your throat. "We didn't get it right, Osferth. My love, we tried our best."

You felt a kiss on your forehead. "When I return, we will try again. I promise. We will make each other happy."

"Osferth. This can't last forever."

He tilted your chin up again and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It made your heart race. When he pulled back, he rested your foreheads together and gently bumped your nose with his. "That will not change the fact that we will try again."

He was gone the next morning before you could go to him and apologise. For the five years that you had welcomed him at your hearth and table, in your heart and bed, he had been honest that he could never marry you. It wasn't your fault, you knew. It was no one's fault. But after a while, it had become easier to blame him. Unfair though it was, you couldn't help it. Sweet Osferth hadn't deserved that. But neither had you.

Your sweet love is buried miles away in a shallow grave marked only by a cross of sticks. There is no place for you to mourn him, no place to speak with him. Only a letter from him remains, but it is nothing to you, for you cannot read. Still, there's some comfort in stroking where he left the ink on it years ago. At the bottom amongst the scrawl is a circle like a wheel - this marks where he had signed his name. Osferth.

You touch it. Already you are forgetting what his voice sounds like. Sounded like.

You lie in bed in the linen shift that has stopped smelling like him. The letter rests on your chest like a two-tonne weight. But the thoughts of him are as light as sand, blowing away in the wind to nothing.

Matthew 7:26. And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand / And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.

Osferth knows the verse in Latin. Knew. Osferth knew. The sound of his voice slips with the sand through your fingers and into the wind. The sound of your sorrow follows it. To dust, to dirt, to the earth and sky. You are lost, and so too is he.

Did he know that you were sorry when he died? Did he think of you? Did he fear death? He didn't always, but as he grew to love life, it frightened him. Still, at Uhtred's side, he had seemed invincible. Like death would not dare come for him.

You curl around his pillow and cry.

Please bring him back to me, you plead with God. Let me live it all again. Even knowing how it ends, I wouldn't change a thing. Bring him back to me, I beg.

Bring him back. Let us begin again.

God does not listen. You never do find someone to marry.

#osferth x reader #mine #osferth #osferth x you #tlk fanfic #osferth fanfic #ewan mitchell

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bg-brainrot · 6 months

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!”

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles.

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step.

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving.

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap.

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know.

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn.

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle.

So you go with your instinct.

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are.

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic.

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down.

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice.

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry.

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action.

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder.

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them.

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs.

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover.

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage.

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips.

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.”

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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fic rec friday 15

welcome the the fifteenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. there, nestled against his pulse by @hiuythn

stop why are you doing this to me stop it stop it stop--

klance soulmate au where your right wrist has the first words your soulmate says to you, and the left holds the last words they'll say to you. super sad, so much angst, and i've been informed it'll make you sob until you choke.

1. there, nestled against his pulse (the main story, from Keith's POV) 2. this is what love looks like: (tnahp from Lance's POV + 38k of sequel content) 3. roll credits (deleted/extra scenes and additional headcanons)

okay. i am so desperately obsessed with this fic, i was obsessed with it the first time i read it and im obsessed with it now. and yes i know i did all hiuythn fics last week and i promise i wont this week. BUT i have a set of comments associated with this fic bc it is Just That Good and so i shall present them to u now:

- literally the funniest characterization of shiro i’ve ever read. this shiro is gay and tired. this shiro unironically and frequently says “move. i’m gay” and gets away with it at the garrison. this shiro has been through A Lot and just wants to fucking retire - allura here is so so funny she’s such a badass. she’s giving “i love shiny things! like the shine of your spilled blood on the floor if you say that dumb shit one more fucking time!!” we stan a queen. - coran is a Mood. this man is desperately trying to reign in four teenagers and two young adults and just wants to go to bed and also he cares for them all so so much. ultimate dad - pidge is Mischief Personified. she is a brat and i adore her. she’s here to cause problems and by god she will succeed - hunk is so done it’s so fucking funny. “that’s literally impossible.” he’s a genius and he knows it, he’s glad to call you out on your bullshit. he doesn’t even TRY to pretend he can keep a secret and/or handle drama god what a mood - don’t even get me started on klance!! they’re so funny omg. the banter is EXQUISITE. lance and keith adore each other so much and they’re so badass. literally the coolest power couple fight scenes ever to be made, i do adore. gosh. and the ROMANCE they are so devoted to each other i’m emotional - honourable mention of lance’s legs and keith’a Soft Squishy Feelings that are mentioned so often that they’re characters. iconic. all in all, the best way to describe this series is Gay and Tired. i love it and i’m sad to see it end. i will be rereading it an embarrassing number of times. infinity/10

2. all the little things by @jilliancares

Or: 5 times Keith let Lance get away with things that he'd never let anyone else do, and 1 time Lance realized that he was, apparently, special

oblivious lance will always be funny to me. and the idea of keith just letting lance get away with Everything and Everyone knowing how whipped he is except for lance himself?? peak humour. never not funny

3. Full Disclosure by @dragonomatopoeia

Keith is impulsive and straightforward when it comes to most things, and emotions are no exception. It's no surprise, then, that when he realises that he might have developed a crush on Lance, he tries to tell him immediately. Unfortunately, it's very hard to account for both circumstance and who Lance is as a person.

Alternatively: Four Times Keith Tried to Confess and One Time Lance Actually Understood

more 2016 eliteness!! this fic is hilarious. and also its number one selling quality is that all of the characters are trans and nd i literally love that for them. nonbinary hunk loml

4. catch me, before i fall by @pastelrainbow

‘We are a good team.’

Even now, just recalling the way Lance had smiled as the words left his lips, made Keith’s heart race and his cheeks redden. Lance had never looked at him so fondly before. No boy ever had. The thought of it made a sigh escape his lips and Keith hunched his shoulders, a pout tugging his lips downwards.

Curse my weak gay heart.

a what if keith caught lance outside his cryo-pod.

the idea of keith being a suave casanova with more game than aphrodite herself but immediately going bright red and hissing when shiro teases him. peak dynamic. absolutely nailed siblings

5. of demons and dates by spartona (faveour)

Three times Keith scares Lance shitless with his ghost shenanigans, and one time Lance tries to retaliate.

first of all. BFU KLANCE BFU KLANCE BFU KLANCE. second of all. the “we’ve BEEN dating u dumbass ily” trope is so funny to me. i will never get over it

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#actually lots of five plus one esque fics this week #bc i love them #ahem anyways #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #team as family #fluff and humour #broganes #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

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orphic-musings · 1 year

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Hi !!!! 💓🥹 I absolutely love your Genshin fics. Especially the one with Zhongli and the adeptus reader!!! <3 I was wondering if you’d consider writing a Morax x Khaneri’ah reader ??? Or even a Morax x God/Goddess reader ???

Have a lovely day/night. Take care ~

Resurrection

Characters: Zhongli x gn! reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: None really :-)

Summary: You are one of the remaining Khaenri’ahns, cursed to wander the world forevermore. With no home, no identity. How can joy ever return to such a bleak existence?

Notes: Ooooooohhhh I loved this request! And thank you so much for reading my fics I’m so so glad you enjoyed them! I really hope this meets your expectations, I had fun writing this hehe. I almost made it angst but I thought yknow Zhongli needs some love. you need some love. we all need love. 🫶

You can no longer feel the wind on your face. The ever-changing skies look all the same to you, and days are a blur. As one of the sole remnants of Khaenri’ah, you are cursed with immortality. You feel more like a shadow than a person, as you drift from place to place, always going in circles. No home, no place to welcome you, no one to welcome you. It truly is a curse.

Or so you used to think.

The water softly lapped at the Liyue docks, shimmering with the glow from laterns. It was a warm evening, and the city was still very much awake. Storytellers could be heard, along with chatter and din from restaurants and merchant stands. Morax couldn’t help the smile forming. Even after all the years he’s lived, he still finds joy in seeing his nation prosper, even if it isn’t really his nation anymore. The peace and life that he fought so hard for now being enjoyed by countless people, tourists and locals alike. And he has all eternity, lest erosion take him, to revel in its tranquility.

As a god, and as a man, he enjoys the simple things in life. Things that make him look forward to each day, like mundane conversations with interesting wanderers, or a new blend of tea. Or, in this particular moment, both.

“Do you travel often, Mr. Zhongli?” You blow on the hot tea, pausing another moment for good measure, before carefully sipping.

“I’m afraid not. This land is… sentimental to me. From the harbour to the jagged mountains, I could not bear to be separated with Liyue for long.” He replies, taking a sip of his own tea. It’s a delightful blend, the light jasmine subtle, but just floral enough to give an exquisite aftertaste, and bittersweet enough to go for another sip.

“I understand, it’s hard to be away from home.”

“Do feel homesick often?”

“I do. Or I used to.” In truth, you don’t even remember what you’re homesick for. Or why you should miss it. It feels so long, that nowhere is your home, that you don’t even know how to miss home.

“You’re very interesting. I enjoy talking with you. You have an undeniable sense of knowledge and wisdom, and I would love to speak more with you.”

And so you did. Evening walks became frequent, then a habit. And soon your days were spent with him too. Part of you wanted to move on, it felt wrong to linger, like you were breaking some unspoken rule. You needed to wander, to drift in the shadows. But you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. The though of parting with Zhongli felt even worse than staying, like you could not bear to separate with him. Like he was home.

»»————-　♡　-————««

It was a cloudy night when you first kissed. On a mountain just near the harbour, overlooking the splotched lights through the haze. The air was sweent with Qingxin, and it was cool and fresh. His lips tasted like bitter tea and sweet wine.

“In all my life I have never felt like this. I thought I had found contentness, serenity. But I did not realize all the passion and warmth I was missing. Please, indulge me more.” You were hesitant. You were immortal, and you knew this love could not last. But the fondness, the pure light in his eyes made you accept. As if to lose this love would be to lose everything all over again.

 “I’ll be yours so long as you’ll have me.” You whisper, your face close to his. His arms are a security you’ve never allowed yourself to settle in, a comfort you didn’t realize you were devoid of.

“Eternity then, my dear.” And with the steel of his voice, you believe him.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Time passes that you are aware of, and each day you look forward to simply existing with your lover. Time passes and the bond between you is stronger than anything, maybe even your curse. And despite the rumours about Zhongli, and despite his sometimes too specific questions, neither of you have disclosed your identities. But time passes, and neither of you age. You are the same as the day he met you, though he swears more spirited and radiant than ever. He is the same as the day you met him, his eyes still glow, but burn even brighter.

“It’s time I discuss something with you.” He declares as he brings the fresh pot of tea to the coffee table in front of you. Fear washes over you, and you momentarily feel the urge to wander, to be a shadow, to run away. But you are not a ghost anymore, you’ve learned how to love and be loved, how to be real. So you force your eyes to meet his. And you see your fear reflected.

“I am sorry to have kept this from you so long my dear, but I had doubts and fears that you have since washed away. I am, or was, the Geo Archon, Rex Lapis, or Morax if you prefer. But I am at the same time Zhongli, just as I always have been.” Your breath was held, and it still held until you manage to process his words. His calm face betrays the gnarling sensation in his gut. Suddenly he is at war again, but he is not confident in victory. And even worse, he is afraid to lose.

He desperately tries to find any sign of hope as he looks at you, only to be let down. His heart shatters, falling apart piece by piece. Like a stone crumbled beneath the piercing of his spear. But your face softens as you think over what he says, as you understand, as you realize.

“I know that you are mortal, and that one day-“ He begins, voice strained.

“You couldn’t have made me happier, than with the words you just said.” You reply, so consumed with joy that his anxious rambling flies over your head. “I have a secret too. Not anything proud like yours, but in this moment that doesn’t matter. I am immortal too, one of the cursed remnants from Khaenri’ah. But despite your godhood, and despite my past, it feelings like a blessing.” Your voice is light, your body is light. You feel like you’re floating, though your eyes water and your heart wrenches, a bliss spreads through you.

“I love you.” His arms hold you tightly, tight like a vow. His words calm you, and you relax in his touch. Through all the wars he fought, all the destruction he wrought, he wonders how it could have led to such a wonderful thing. How sins and a curse could be a blessing. But he merely smiles to himself as he thinks, it must be the power of love.

Jaded the two of you may be, but fools in love also. And you remember what it’s like to have a home. You remember what’s it’s like to live in the light, and to be seen. And it’s more wonderful than anything you’ve experienced. All the grief and despair you lived through, only now to have a promise of love for eternity. Just as there is always a sun to chase away the night, there is always joy and love to overcome hard times.

“I love you too Morax. I love you.”

#fanfic #x gn reader #fluff fic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin fluff #genshin morax #morax x reader #rex lapis #genshin x gn reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli fluff #morax fluff #genshin impact morax #orphic musings

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elemit · 8 months

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A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 23: Rescue

Death tastes like blood.

Like hot blood that splatters thick and sticky across your face, coating your closed eyelids and hollow cheeks, filling your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with a force that makes you choke.

Your eyes snap open. Fresh blood. Lifeblood. Your greed for it almost drives every other thought from your deadened brain. Through a red mist, you see the flash of a silver blade, a headless body collapsing to its knees at your feet, a dark object that could be a man's head thudding to the floor beside you. Shadowy figures crowd in through the doorway, bringing with them mutterings then shouts then screams. A pale, delicate hand gestures in the air in front of you, and with a rush of magic - my magic, rages a whispered voice inside you - the room lights up, every candle and fireplace dancing to life to illuminate the grisly scene before you.

Marshall Bormul’s beheaded corpse is sprawled at your feet. Astarion stands a step behind where the Marshall had stood, one hand still raised from casting the spell, the other clasping a bloodied silver blade by his side. His handsome face is blood-splattered in a way you haven’t seen since you adventured together all those moons ago, and something about it - the desecration of something so flawless and white with something so dark and inherently violent - makes your newly found breath catch in your throat. Beautiful, rich red blood spills from the Fist’s neck, seeping into the carpet. Wasted. The exquisite scent of it drives you wild, and you let out a voiceless keen, falling to your knees, needing to put your lips to the gaping wounds that continue to pour forth the blood that you so desperately crave.

Astarion's arms are around you before you have a chance to press your lips to the still-warm corpse. You writhe in his hold, feral with hunger, until he whispers a command to you:

“Be still.”

Your body goes limp; your thoughts quieten. You settle in his arms.

“Good gods, man, what have you done?” exclaims a man from the crowd by the door.

Astarion whips around with you clutched to his chest.

"I have rescued my wife," he snaps at the man. "You all saw it. The man was all over her like a rabid dog. I had to put him down."

He speaks with such authority that none dare oppose him. Meek murmurs of "Yes, lord," and "Of course, Lord Ancunín," are the only responses he receives. He turns his attention to the scattering of servants in the crowd.

"Someone tidy this up. You, bring the councillors to my receiving room. I'll meet them there shortly. Everyone else, back to the ballroom. Now. This… unfortunate incident is no reason to ruin a perfectly good party."

Having given his orders, Astarion strides out of the room, pushing past guests dressed to the nines, carrying you with him. Behind him people begin to drift slowly back towards the ballroom, buzzing and humming with uncertainty and shock, while the servants among them spring to act on his commands.

“I warned him,” Astarion mutters, seemingly more to himself than you. “I told him that what is mine to share is still mine.”

You are still frozen by his earlier command, but he doesn't seem to notice until he's carried you all the way to your bedchamber and laid you, lolling, on the bed. Suddenly noticing the state you are in, he sighs.

“You may move.”

At his words, a chaos of feeling and movement floods through you. You are wracked by breathless, wordless sobs, though whether they are caused by fear, relief, or disappointment, you do not know. You curl in on yourself, trying to force your shuddering breathing back into order, and slowly the sobs subside into deep, shaking breaths. Astarion, standing by the bedside with a slight frown on his face, gives a nod at your newfound composure.

“I’ll send servants to tend to you. You need cleaning up.”

With that, he turns to leave.

As he walks away towards the door you sense the quiet and the darkness gathering, ready to settle over the room the moment he leaves. While earlier in the night the gloom was a place of solace, the thought of being within it alone now fills you with a deep sense of dread. It is no longer an escape; rather, it is an obscurity filled with strange and unknown terrors that are only waiting for your husband to leave before pouncing.

Unable to call out to him, you let out a panicked hum, pausing him in his tracks. He turns around to look at you questioningly, and you beckon him back over to you.

“What is it, my sweet?”

You beckon again, more forcefully this time, ignoring the confusion and dismay in your chest. Dreadful though he may be, you do not want to be alone. He cannot leave you.

“You want me to stay?”

You give a single reluctant nod, blinking away the hotness in your eyes. A smile twitches at the edges of his mouth, and he walks back to the bed, sits on it, and pulls you into his arms. You close your eyes and try to find comfort in his embrace. He brushes the blood-matted hair from your face, hushes you, and whispers soft things into your ear as he rocks you gently.

“You are mine, my treasure. My darling love. You are mine. And I will kill anyone who ever tries to take you from me.”

There is a threat in his comfort, just as there is an edge to all of his kindnesses these days, but you cannot bring yourself to mind it. He is an evil that you chose, not an evil that is being forced upon you, and tonight that somehow feels like it means everything.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #a gift a curse #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #long fic

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dangermousie · 1 year

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Dramas for the first half of 2023

Now that we are six months into 2023, time to do one of these posts. I am gonna include both Korean and Chinese dramas, because why not and any drama I even checked out is on it.

DRAMAS WATCHED

29. Romance of Twin Flower (China) - make it cease existing! My favorite het web novel got murdered and then had its grave spat on.

28. Dominator of Martial Gods (China) - if MST3K still existed, this drama would be prime material for it.

27. Wanru’s Journey (China) - acting. Try it!

26. Royal Rumors (China) - they tried acting. But forgot to try having a functional screenplay on top.

25. The Last Princess (China) - acting is nonexistent and the story is trash but it never aspired to be what it wasn’t and was kinda cute.

24. Oasis (Korea) - great acting in a story with a screenplay that goes round and round fruitlessly like a hamster in a cage.

23. The Trust (China) - the OTP in this one swaps bodies but it would have been better for everyone if whoever made this and an actual competent writer swapped theirs.

22. Snow Eagle Lord (China) - yet another drama in which Xu Kai does his best to keep acting opposite a wooden costar and through a terrible screenplay. There is something seriously wrong with that man’s career choices.

21. Heartbeat (Korea) - the good: it’s harmless. The bad: it’s harmless.

20. Back from the Brink (China) - ummm the people are pretty? And if I were 10 I’d be all about this show but as is...

19. Joseon Attorney (Korea) - slightly less fun than reading a legal treatise.

18. The Starry Love (China) - the definition of a xianxia playing it safe and pastel; I did love the secondary couple a lot but it was not enough to save that snoozefest of a drama.

17. Chong Zi (China) - badly acted and a screenplay that somehow manages to be both repetitive and disjointed. But I am a sucker for the shizunfucker trope so here we are.

16. Island (Korea) - a mess but Kim Nam Gil is hot with a sword.

15. Circle of Love (China) - rationally, a hot mess. But so entertaining and addicting and fall of make outs of epicness!

14. Lady Durian (Korea) - makjang from the Queen of Makjang and with that scrumptious cast! This is gonna be GOOD!

13. The Forbidden Marriage (Korea) - sweet and oddly charming despite nobody in it bothering to act much.

12. Pledge of Allegiance (China) - the way they had to edit it likely due to censorship made it less than it what could have been but still more than most dramas this year.

11. Choice Husband (China) - delicious cliches and tropes and angst in the rain!

10. Hidden Love (China) - to make ME of all people to care about a fluffy modern is a bona fide miracle but the two mains are chemistry machines who portray longing so well.

9. Gone with the Rain (China) - wildly uneven but our heroine and the sexy general she eventually chooses are pure gold!

8. The Secret Romantic Guest House (Korea) - how to do youth sageuk right. Everything about this just works!

7. Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow (Korea) - it has flaws but is so gorgeous and full of longing and grief and everything good!

6. Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 (Korea) - a sequel/prequel that is almost as good as the original, how often does that happen?

5. See You In My 19th Life (Korea) - wacky and grieving, delicate and odd, this is everything I ever want in a kdrama.

4. Call It Love (Korea) - a truly exquisite story of trauma and loneliness and healing and love.

3. Till the End of the Moon (China) - gloriously messy in every way this is just MORE. The ending is enraging and there are issues but when it hits, it hits so hard the rest of it does not matter - the dark characters, the dysfunctional love story, the battles, the insane visuals, the EVERYTHING of it. This is what fantasy should be like.

2. Chang Feng Du/Destined (China) - came out of nowhere to own my heart via its story of growing up and finding love and slow organic relationship building and keeping your soul in a world of horrors.

1. The Ingenuous One (China) - the best one, so I am gonna talk about it below.

FAVORITE DRAMA

The Ingenuous One - so impossibly solid, from acting to visuals to screenplay to EVERYTHING! Adult characters with adult issues and choices, both moral dilemmas and battles equally compelling. The love stories, the friendships, the shades of grey. This is utterly and completely adult.

WORST DRAMA

Romance of the Twin Flower - if I could make one drama cease to exist, this would be it.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Tantai Jin, Till The End of the Moon - the best character this year hands down - by turns (and timelines) unhinged monster, a contained saint, a victim of abuse trying to attain being viewed as human, a schemer, a ruler, grief personified, curiosity and monstrosity and nobility all mingled.

Runner up: Jang Uk, Alchemy of Souls - sunshine boy gone dark and grieving, but still with that same core of steel.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Shim Woo Joo, Call It Love - she’s damaged and impulsive and relationship-phobic and revenge driven and glorious!

Runner Up: Shu Ya Nan (The Ingenuous One) - allowed to be tough and dark and with her own agenda and not a member of a good sect and just so cool.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Han Dong Jin’s Mom, Call It Love - that woman was horrifying and the source of so much of his trauma; a real realistic monster petty in all ways except for the damage she inflicted.

FAVORITE SHIP

Gu Jiusi/Liu Yuru, Chang Feng Du - wholesome and helping each other grow and talking it out but also there is blood feeding and midnight rescues and everything. They are good but not in the least boring.

Runner Up: Woo Joo/Dong Jin, Call It Love - two wounded souls finding such slow but such amazing healing with each other.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Ming Yu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenuous One - there’s actually been a lot of good secondary OTPs this year (General x Fox in TTEOTM, Investigator x Princess, TIO, Rang/Mermaid, TOTNT1938) but these two owned my heart - gentleman merchant x gambling hostess ftw.

NOTP

Romance of Twin Flower - they took my favorite het novel OTP, smart and coldblooded and forces of nature and turned them into THAT?

SHIRTLESSNESS AWARD

Xiao Hong Ye, Circle of Love - guy was a terrible abuser but those pecs were the real sin!

CRAZIEST FUNFEST

Circle of Love - screenplay written by rabid monkeys and populated by a bunch of psychos but such ridiculous, irresistible fun!

FAVORITE SCENE

Tantai Jin confronting Li Susu in jail, Till the End of the Moon - the energy, the intensity, the darkness the EVERYTHING.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Li Gong Quan, The Ingenuous One - yeah whatever, I realize he’s a minor character but I loved him so much! The whole having to bring down your benefactor who’s gone evil tho you are in love with his daughter should have been a whole other drama!

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Chen Wende, Gone with the Rain - most of this drama is not that exciting but whenever his King of Trolls hot general shows up, I sit up and pay attention. I am 35 eps deep because of him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

The Ingenuous One - I am dying to see what happens to royal investigator and supposedly dead princess, how our OTP will travel the world, the merchant and his lady, Ten Taels and his orphans and his girl and just everything. I loved these people so!

NEEDS A DIRECTOR’S CUT

Till the End of the Moon - it was clear they cut a BUNCH in the last third to fit the ridiculous new “40 eps or bust” rule and it would flow so much more smoothly if it was allowed to breathe.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Romance of Twin Flower - it should have been shredded into nonexistence sorry not sorry.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Pledge of Allegiance - this drama was good but had gaping lacunae where too many scissors were taken to it for censorship reasons; I am surprised even what’s left was allowed to air tbh but still...

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Shrill = cute - I see it every year, I hate it every year.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Hot Men Whump - come one, TTEOTM alone would fill the quota but we also had CFD, Call It Love, See You in my 19th life etc etc.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Back from the Brink - it’s based on a novel by an author whose other novels (Zhao Yao, Blue Whispers, Mulberry Song) I adore and the novelist was the screenwriter so I was so excited. But it was a juvenile, flat mess that de-powered the heroine and taught me that yeah, sometimes the writer should not adopt their work.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

Chang Feng Du - I loved the novel but the trailers were a fluffy bland disaster and I checked it out with zero expectations. However, this is a glorious adaptation, a lesson in how to transport a massive novel on screen into slim 40 eps and to account for changes in medium and stricter censorship restrictions for dramas versus books while keeping the essential vibe of the original.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctress (China) - the pining the pining by the Hot Emperor! This is like all my web novel dreams come true!

MOST ANTICIPATED

A Journey to Love/Prisoner of Beauty/My Journey to You/Kunning Palace - maybe one of them will air before the world ends.

#cdrama #kdrama #2023 drama list

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