#The rest of the cast: 'nothing in life matters'

[ya-zz]

A Battle of Dominance

Collab with: @t3chborb!! You can find their artwork here! You can also view their post here too! Ramattra x Reader (gen, no mentions of pronouns) [AFAB Reader - has female genitalia] Word Count: 5890 A/N: This was so fun to write, regardless of the writers block hitting me towards the end... It was absolutely a pleasure to work with you ♥ I love the art as always~ !! NSFW !!

In the heart of the Himalayan mountains, Nepal was renowned for its captivating beauty and distinct seasons. As winter descended, the air turned crisp and cold, creating a picturesque landscape; the mountain peaks, adorned with a thick blanket of snow, glistened under the clear blue sky and the cold, far from being a hindrance, became an integral part of the experience, bringing people closer together and fostering a sense of community.

In the quaint villages nestled among the towering mountains, life unfolded at a slower pace. The inhabitants, resilient and warm-hearted, found joy in the simple things. The houses, adorned with intricate carvings and colourful prayer flags added a vibrant touch to the snow-covered surroundings. Then there are the villagers, clad in traditional attire, who went about their daily tasks with a sense of contentment and harmony.

As the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over the snow-covered landscape, a sense of tranquility descended upon the village. The stars emerged in the darkening sky, adding a celestial splendor to the wintry night. The villagers, with hearts filled with gratitude, retired to their homes, seeking comfort and warmth amidst the cold.

Inside of the monastery where the monks prayed and rested, several omnics roamed the ever dimming hallways, finishing up the last of their tasks. 

Ramattra was one of the few monks in the Monastery, listening to the teachings of Mondatta, meditating to finally feel true peace and harmony. He had been there for several months now, attempting to find a place for himself within the world.

Deep inside, though, he still hated humanity, and maybe that was where things were proving difficult to him. He couldn’t get past the discord he felt inside, no matter how hard he tried to rid the feeling. His programming wouldn’t let him feel peace. 

He hated humanity for everything they have done. 

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into those long months, and Ramattra still couldn’t work around it all. Eventually, he gave up and tried to keep his emotions at bay, not letting them seep through the ever growing cracks. While meditation was hit and miss some days, he did find that it helped keep him calm. With no humans running around the Monastery, he had nothing to worry about. 

Until you came along and changed the way he thought. Ramattra thought humans weren’t welcome within the monastery, having never seen any of them around before, but when you showed up and roamed the longing hallways, he felt uneasy. He learnt that while humans were welcome, they steered clear from the omnics.

That was then.

Eventually things began changing for him.

He grew to like you, never minding if you were in his way, or seated beside him when he was meditating. Your presence was welcome.

There was never a dull moment when he was with you and he found you to be quite enjoyable to be around. As time went on, he realised there was something more to you. He found that he was staring at you a little longer than normal, admiring the way you spoke or moved. Ramattra couldn’t stop thinking about you when he was no longer around you. 

He shook it off time and time again, he wasn’t falling for a human, no, he couldn’t. That would go against everything he believed in. Humans were unnecessary, evil beings that only sow chaos.

But not you. 

He knew you weren’t like them and gradually, through consistent reassurance, he began to realise his feelings towards you. It was foreign, as with anything new, but this… This felt like fire. 

His circuits would burn up whenever your hand brushed against his accidentally. The longing look in your eyes whenever he held contact with you spoke volumes at how much you liked him, too. 

It was slow and gradual, as most things should be. He never rushed, never went any further than what you were comfortable with. He made you feel seen. Human. Ramattra made you feel like you mattered.

As time went on, feelings developed between the two of you. Days roaming the monastery halls and meditating by each other's side only made the tension grow. Ramattra was the first to break, hands grabbing your hips and nearly slamming you against the nearest wall. His body pressed into yours as he murmured how much he wanted you. 

He nearly dragged you to his chambers before the door closed behind him softly. The tension was growing as his hands met your shoulders, thumbs pressing against your collar bone. He was rough, yet he was gentle. A startling contrast from what he was; a ravager unit.

Timid hands met his chest as his hands carefully undressed you, slipping off your shirt and pants before pushing you down on the bed. He was watching you carefully, making sure that he didn’t hurt you, that he didn’t go too far.

It was shocking to you when he slipped off the privacy plate and unveiled his member; never did you think that omnics came equipped with such appendages unless they were specifically made for pleasure. You ruled it down to him being curious, never questioning him on his choices. 

The size alone was nauseating, but the omnic above you assured that it wouldn’t hurt. He took every care imaginable to make sure that he was true to his word as he adjusted himself before sliding inside of you.

Pleasure was high, senses were heightened and moans filled the room. An omnic and a human. It wasn’t unheard of for a human and omnic to be intimate, but a ravager and a human? Most would scoff.

It wasn’t something that happened the one time either. Several days went by before it happened again. The monk and the human getting closer, intimate.

If only Ramattra knew that there was something you had in mind. Him being the dominant one in the relationship was always fun, you never said otherwise, but you wanted to switch things up, or at least try to. Confidence was holding you back greatly. Perhaps another day, was always the thought in your head after such an act took place.

Nobody ever found out, and even if they did, Ramattra didn’t care. All he cared about was you. 

Timid and quiet, friendly and trustworthy. Ramattra had found a friend, a partner. A lover. 

In the realm of your relationship, you and Ramattra found the perfect balance between individuality and togetherness; supporting each other's aspirations, offering encouragement and understanding along the way. When life's challenges arose, you stood side by side, providing unwavering strength and support. It was a partnership built on mutual respect, empathy, and the belief in each other's potential.

Ramattra's metal heart swelled with happiness as he contemplated the exceptional relationship he shared with you. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you to him. With every passing moment, Ramattra felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the profound connection he had forged with you, cherishing the memories you and him created and eagerly anticipating the countless adventures that lay ahead.

As the nights grew longer, the air grew colder. You had been doing your duties in the monastery, away from Ramattra. There was nothing to it, no ill will intended, it’s just how it was some days.

When you had finally done what needed doing, you finally relaxed, fighting to not fall asleep on the stone floor.

Ramattra had found you curled up beside the crackling fire in one of the meditation rooms as he passed by. The winter air had settled upon the monastery, enveloping everything in a bone-chilling embrace. The thin clothing you wore seemed almost insignificant against the relentless cold, offering little solace against the icy grip of the season.

Your body, huddled and shivering, radiated a palpable sense of vulnerability. Ramattra paused, his optics narrowing as he observed your limited movements. Though his exterior was often perceived as cold and unyielding, there was a flicker of concern in his gaze.

With a deliberate step, he approaches, his movements silent and purposeful. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow upon his form, creating an almost surreal spectacle. 

“There are warmer places to be.” He states, standing behind you. 

“Beside the fire is good enough.” You don’t look up at him, eyes focussing on the flickering flames. 

The omnic shakes his head, kneeling down and hooking his arms underneath yours, lifting you to your feet as you gasp. 

“Hey!” You look at him, the soft glow of the fire illuminating his faceplate. “What was that for?” 

“I want to take you somewhere warmer.” His head tilts to the side. 

His tone makes you hesitate before you nod, agreeing to his request. 

“Then let us go.” He takes your hand in his, walking by your side through the hallways within the monastery. A breeze passes through the open widows, sending a small shiver down your spine to which Ramattra catches on instantly. 

He removes his cowl, placing the heavy fabric over your shoulders with little effort as the walking doesn’t cease. The cloak trails on the floor behind you, luckily for the daily sweeping, Ramattra doesn’t mind this happening. 

“Thank you.” Moving your hands under the cowl, the warmth from his chassis still remained within the fabric, a breathy sigh escaping your lips. “You’re warm.”

“It is my internal heating.” He chuckles.

You nod, relishing in the warmth. “I like it.” 

“I am glad you do.” 

He places his hand on your back before opening the door to his room. You could feel the heat immediately on your cheeks. 

“Why is it warmer in here than anywhere else?” You ask, stepping inside. It wasn’t the first time being in his room, but this time, it felt different. You were close beside the fire earlier, but now, just a few feet into his room, the heat was significantly hotter… or perhaps it was the ever growing feeling of lust that bubbled inside of you.

"For an omnic, I suppose I do not like the cold, either." His words carry a hint of both amusement and resignation. Omnics, being artificial intelligences, robotic in form, were not typically known for experiencing physical sensations such as cold or heat. However, Ramattra seemed to possess a unique capacity for such emotions, a testament to his advanced programming and sentience.

As Ramattra spoke, he turns his gaze towards the fireplace situated on the opposite wall. A fire crackled merrily within the hearth, the flames dancing and casting a warm glow on the surrounding area. The wood burns with a gentle roar, sending wisps of smoke curling upwards towards the ceiling.

“It’s cosy.” Perhaps it was the heat doing something to you, but there was a strange feeling settling within your body. You had something planned for when you gained the confidence to be dominant, but you figured that was far ahead in the future… Not now.

All you knew was that Ramattra never looked in places he did not need, so he wouldn’t have noticed the box you had slid under his bed a week prior. Out of sight, out of mind. 

The omnic notices you staring off into nothingness, eyes distant before he places his hand on your shoulder. 

“Is everything okay?”

The question snaps you out of the daze instantly. “Yes, sorry.” 

“No apology is necessary.” He removes his hand, adjusting his cowl on your shoulders. “Is something on your mind?” 

You blink up at him twice before answering, a sudden surge of confidence flowing through you. “Can we try something new?”

“Something new?” He quotes.”What would you like to try?” Curiosity gets the better of him. You had never been the one to suggest new ideas, usually relying on him to make the decisions, especially when it came down to anything in the bedroom.

You don’t answer him at first as your hands start gliding down his metal forearms. Ramattra watches you, optics scanning you. There was a rise in heat and not just in your cheeks.

Your hands roam his chest, one moving under the fabric of his robe and slipping it down his left arm. It pools at his waist and from there you untie the knot of his sash, folding it neatly and placing it on the dresser. The rest of his attire falls to the floor and he’s unsure of what to do. He takes a small step back before you pick it up and place it on top of the beige material. 

“You are being careful.” He states, feeling somewhat nervous at the notion. 

“You have one set of robes, I do not wish to see them ruined.” As much as I would want to tear them off, you think. 

Hands trail across his chest, fingers dipping into the spaces between metal braces. Fingertips brush over the red lights causing him to shudder, an audible sigh escaping him. He looks so vulnerable right now, allowing you to have your way with him. 

You were gentle, not wanting to scare him off. He had never let a human be so close before, never let himself be in this state. He was the one in charge at all times. It was foreign to him and perhaps it always will be.

He feels you push him backwards, his feet clanking against the stone floor before he makes contact with the bed. He sits down, now looking up at you. 

“Lay back for me and put your arms above your head.” You say and he obeys. 

Ramattra lays back, the bed dipping as his entire weight rests against it.

As he does that, you undress what clothes you had on, slipping off the robe that he had gifted you a month prior, before reaching under his bed and pulling out that box you had saved for this moment. His cowl lay against your shoulders, barely hanging on with how large it was compared to your form.

At first, he wasn’t opposed to the idea of you being on top of him, but when you pull out some rope, something shifts in his systems. Fear? No, you wouldn’t harm him, so he dismissed it. Perhaps it was curiosity? He hums quietly as you place his arms above his head, forearms touching before the rope gradually wraps around the metal. He feels every gentle touch, the sliding of the scratchy material as his sensors pick up what he cannot see. Ramattra focuses on what he can see, albeit, not very much. Had the ceiling always had that crack? The room needs dusting, I can see the particles. Wait, where did you get that box, how long has it been in here, he thought to himself.

When his arms were tightly and properly bound, he hears you move around him, fumbling with something. He didn’t move, so he laid there, watching the dust float past his vision. 

Had you always been capable of something like this? Have you been planning this for days, weeks, maybe?

The confidence only rose within you as you straddle him, leaning down to press a kiss to his faceplate where white meets gold. He feels your fingers graze his neck before something foreign wraps around it, pushing against the protected wires that resided in his neck. 

He goes to speak but is cut off by a harsh squeeze. The metal of the buckle and prong clicks against each other before resting snugly against his neck. Ramattra looks through the slits of his faceplate, optics looking up at you as the whirring of his fans get audibly louder. When you snap a leash to it, he can’t help but let out a gasp.

“What is this?” 

“I told you, I wanted to be in charge for a change.” Your tone was unlike anything he had heard before. You wrap the leash around your hand, a firm grip to signal you were in control. “Be good and lay still.”

Ramattra nods, fingers flexing before relaxing. A small tug pulls his head and neck forward, a grunt escaping his vocaliser in the process. 

“Of course.” He mutters.

The power you had over him was daunting, but you knew he trusted you. If he would trust you with his cowl, he’d trust you with whatever you had planned. You had to adjust the cowl the more you moved, however, and Ramattra couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you held it around your shoulders to stop it from slipping down. It was far too big on you, but he won’t deny that it looks good on you. 

You lean over him, his cowl dropping to expose your chest, though Ramattra’s optics were on your face. He was studying you, trying to figure out what you had planned for him. 

Fingers trail his faceplate, the other hand pulling the leash taut to bring his face closer to yours. You could hear the hum of his inner workings emanating as you press a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“You’re heating up.” There was a slight mocking tone to your voice as you speak. “Are you nervous?”

“I do not get nervous.” He lies. He can feel it himself, the way a fuzzy feeling courses through his wires, an uncertainty that he cannot place. 

A small hum escapes your throat as your free hand trails down his metal braces, eyes still watching him, ears still listening. His fans pick up speed, whirring faster with each gentle touch and trace. You can feel the heat of his body on the palm of your hand and the further down you go, the hotter he seems to be. 

“What are you doing?” Ramattra chokes back a moan, vocaliser clicking and resetting as he feels your hand push against his privacy plate. 

“It’s a shame I cannot stop you from talking.” The confidence continues to rise as the omnic makes a noise similar to a scoff. 

He knows it’s possible, but he won’t indulge you this time. 

A sudden coldness embraces his pelvic area and he shudders before your hand wraps around his cock. Slow, languid motions draw out the lowest of moans from the omnic as his head tilts back. His hips buck into your hand, wanting more friction but you deny him. 

“So needy…” You coo, pressing your lips against his left receptor. 

Ramattra is bewildered at how confident you suddenly are. From the timid nature you show almost every day to this? Something must have happened for you to be in this mood. 

“Please.” He begs, moving his head to the side when you eventually pull back. When he notices the smug look, your hand stopping at the base of his cock, does he remember that you’re in control. 

“I am sorry.” His voice drops.

“Better.” 

It’s taking everything in his power to not break free from the restraints and turn this around, to have you underneath him and begging in place of him. He feels you shuffle back before your slicked entrance lines up with his cock, another temptation he has to fight; to not thrust up into you. 

Ramattra is used to being in control. In full control. 

A steady sigh escapes him as he feels you lower yourself down onto him, cock buried deep inside of you. 

He feels larger than you remember, or perhaps it was the confidence making him feel different, either way, he felt good. 

You settle on his cock, a small grind to adjust your position which sends a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He was rubbing against your sweet spot in just that small of a movement. It wasn’t intentional, but you made sure to tug at the leash. 

Ramattra grunts, optics flicking down to you as he tries to steady his thoughts. 

Lifting your hips slowly, you draw out a low moan from the omnic beneath you, relishing in the way you saw his fists clench, arms tensing despite the metal being solid. 

You hover in that position for a second longer before slamming your hips back down onto him. Biting your lip to stifle your own whimpers and moans, you continue to bounce slowly against his pelvic plates. His cock hits deep inside of you, walls clenching around him in response. 

Ramattra wants to break free, to grab your thighs and guide you, to make you go at his pace but the harsh tugging of the leash reminds him that he has no power right now. You control him and his pleasure. 

Though the winter air was cold against your chest, your nipples peaking from the frozen air, Ramattra’s cowl continues to provide some warmth across your body alongside the ever growing heat between your legs. The omnic’s chassis was also heating up, wires burning with lust at your newfound confidence. 

The rhythmic noises of your ass connecting with his metal body rings softly in the room. Ramattra’s chest hums in ecstasy, vocaliser clicking to reset after each moan or grunt. He wants to turn away from you but every time he tries, you pull him back to face you. 

He marvels in your beauty, the confidence radiating from you as you bounce against his lap. He feels your heat, the wetness that drips onto him and down his inner thighs. What he would give to grasp you, knead into your plump thighs and ass. It was almost torture for him. 

Your moans continuously flood his receptors as you lose yourself to the pleasure at long last. With his cock driving into you at a steady fast pace, he can’t help but admire the dedication. The sheen of sweat that covers your stomach, small beads dripping down your temple to your collarbone; the firelight illuminating you entirely. You look ethereal above him. 

The grinding of your hips when you tire out only teases him more. Humans and their stamina, the omnic thinks to himself. 

Ramattra’s vision suddenly gets blinded by cooling errors. His fans were whirring loudly but were luckily hidden behind the moaning coming from both you and him. He fears they might burn out if you continue to tease him like this so in between minor refreshes, he pumps cooling fluid through his chassis. 

When you take a moment to recollect yourself, you lean over to him, pulling the leash to bring his head a little closer before your hand catches his jaw. Your thumb gently rubs against the golden metal as you plant a kiss on his faceplate, your breath ghosting over the white. 

“You look pretty like this.” Your fingers stroke the edge of his faceplate which sends an unexpected shiver down the omnic’s back cable. 

Ramattra could feel a tingling sensation coursing through his body once again. Perhaps he was finally feeling that flustered emotion he makes you experience time and time again. A simple compliment makes such a difference and now he understands your emotions that little bit more. 

You loosen your grip on the leash as you place your hands on either side of his head, pulling up his cabled mane from under him, letting them clack against his arms above his head. 

He sighs, not realising that he had been feeling uncomfortable from those cables this entire time.

“I thank you.” His voice cracks before resetting. 

You smile as you slide backwards against him, his cock still inside of you. You draw out a guttural moan from Ramattra, one that you had never heard before which causes you to smirk. 

“Oh?” 

He turns his head to the side almost as if he was ashamed but that didn’t last long as your fingers and thumb grip his chin to make him face you. 

“Don’t turn away from me.”

He attempts to move his head away again just to see what you would do and when you sharply turn him back, grip tightening, he gives in. You were not letting him go no matter how hard he may try. 

Ramattra knows his strength; he knows how easy he could turn this entire scene around, but the look on your face as you sit back up and continue to ride his cock was the only thing stopping him. 

Why should he deny your pleasure? Perhaps he could aid you, despite your domination over him. 

He waits, focussing on your features; the scrunching of your face as you chase your high, the slipping of his cowl on your shoulders that you hold up with your free hand. Oh, those collarbones shining from the sweat and firelight, he wants to trace them with his fingers. Your hips that curved perfectly, he wants to grab them as he pounds you into the mattress. 

Ramattra’s restraint was waning, a coil burning up inside of him as he hides behind static. He wants to turn his head and avoid your gaze when you slip back into the moment and tug at the leash. 

“Fuck…” You head dipped before your body fell forward, hands grasping at his metal chest braces. Your hips didn’t stop slamming down onto his cock, hitting just that bit deeper that sent sparks flying. 

He could feel you clenching around him, the telltale sign that you were close. Your breathing hitches, whimpers escaping your throat as you bite down hard on one of the tubes that runs down his neck. 

Ramattra groans out, a mix of pain and pleasure as his head tilts back, system flaring with errors. 

Saliva mixed with contact oil drips from your lips and onto the leather collar, teeth sinking into the tubing that little bit further. 

The omnic stutters your name before involuntarily thrusting up into you, head lolling back before his systems crash. The sudden push inside of you causes you to slip over the edge, almost screaming his name as you came around him. 

Spasming walls eventually relax alongside your panting after you ride your high out, though Ramattra lay motionless beneath you. 

His systems take a minute or so before coming back online, his fans whirring softly alongside the crackling of the fire. 

The subtle sting of a bruise begins to form inside of you, but that does not deter you from seeking one more whilst the omnic is still in his booting up state. 

Slow, rhythmic rolls of your hips pull another static filled moan from Ramattra. His optics calibrate as he stares up at you, fingers flexing before relaxing. System errors clear, your face and body in view.

The cocky smirk on your face after he moans once more was all he needed to turn the tables. His hips buck into you, causing you to whimper and fall back to his chest and whilst you try to collect yourself, wanting to tug that leash and scold him for his movements, his arms were broken free from your restraints. 

Padded hands grab at your hips and squeeze, which in turn makes you yelp out. You turn your head to look at him, eyes wide.

“Playtime is over.” His tone was low as he moves his leg, hooking yours with it and rolling you over. With your head landing back on the pillow with a soft thud, you can’t help but admire the sight above you. 

Pulling down on the leash, you bring him close to your face, the shock quickly diminishing. 

“I won’t go down so easily.” You tilt your head forward in defiance and Ramattra scoffs, pushing deeper into you. 

Biting your lip to stifle a moan, Ramattra chuckles, his chest rumbling as his snakes his hand up your side. 

“Is that so, pet?” Just those words alone made you clench down on him and he feels it all too well. 

He watches you, almost like he’s waiting for a reaction. Slowly, almost torturously does he slip out of you, listening to the gasp you let out from being empty. 

“Not so confident now, are you?” You could hear the smirk in his tone as he thrusts back into you. One hand was on your side, trailing over your skin before gripping your hip tightly while the other hand moves down, padded thumb pressing gently against your clit. 

Small circular movements send sparks flying as you writhe underneath him, moaning and cussing under your breath. 

“Awh, look at you.” He hums, cock buried deep inside of you as he presses his faceplate against your neck. A small vibration is felt; a kiss. “So good for me.” 

Ramattra didn’t slow down as he fucks you rough, thumb moving at a faster pace to draw out your whimpers and pleas. 

“R-Ramattra…” Despite the dwindling confidence, you pull on the leash. “Do not cum.”

“Oh?” He chuckles. “I believe you are close. Are you able to hold out that long?” 

You glare up at him, that snarky tone of his fueling the fire. “Try me.” 

“Looks like my little pet still has some confidence.” 

A subtle smirk crosses your lips. “Are you forgetting something?” You press a hand against his tubing at his hips before tugging at it which causes his vocaliser to glitch mid moan and momentarily pause his movements. “That’s what I thought.” 

Ramattra scoffs when he regains control, thumb pressed against your clit but not moving. He feels the heat, the throbbing, the way you clench down on his cock. “Perhaps you do not quite understand.”

He doesn’t wait before he slams his hips back against your body, rough motions driving you closer to the edge once more. You retaliate, squeezing the tubing, any free cable you could find before sinking your teeth back down on his neck. 

His hand moves from your hip, settling down beside your shoulder for support as he stays atop of you. The slapping of metal and skin resonates within the room, the fire still burning bright and softly illuminating the two of you as you both get lost in pleasure and fighting for dominance. 

You knew you couldn’t flip him over, you just had to do what you could from below. Biting, scratching, tugging, whatever would rouse a reaction form the omnic. 

Ramattra enjoyed the struggle, watching you writhe underneath him as he continued to abuse your aching cunt. The way your face contorts in pleasure and then a single moment of defiance causes him to move faster, harder. 

It was taking everything in you to not fall, to not give him the satisfaction that he was in control. Ramattra will not win, not this time. 

Tugging the leash again, you bring him back down, fingers grazing the golden metal as you catch his head in your hands. You stare up at him, lust crazed eyes as you move your legs, wrapping them around his back to secure him in place.

“You do not give in, do you?” He smirks, pushing that little bit further inside of you. His body heats up at the moan you let out, receptors echoing it to his systems.

“Not tonight.” You pull him down, hands tangling within his cabled mane as you trace your tongue over the underside of his jaw before sliding back down his neck. You feel him shudder under your touch, though his thrusts don’t falter. 

He wants to fight back, push you deep against the mattress and fuck you mercilessly but there was something about tonight that holds him back. The defiance that you show makes him want to see how far you’ll push.

Ramattra feels you grab at the cable down his spine, a whimpered cuss escapes from your lips as you bury your head against his shoulder, teeth grazing his frame. 

You’re slipping and he knows it. 

He slows down his tormenting movements against your clit as he speaks, tone teasing. “How long can you last, pet?” 

“Shut up…” You whimper, eyes shut tight as you hold onto the omnic, moans and whimpers warming his receptors. Every thrust, every pinch and squeeze pushes you closer. It wasn’t going to take much, but you weren’t willing to let go just yet. 

Ramattra shuffles his arm under your back, holding you against his chassis and closing that small space between him and you. He feels you tense, stuttering your whines. 

He wants to speak, but the teeth that sink into his tubing causes him to do the same, stuttered and static moans breaking through. 

“Cum for me…” You moan, biting down once more as your hand tugs at the cable in his back. He hates how sensitive he can get around you, but he loves the way you make him feel. 

Ramattra’s hand gently scratches your back as he continues to thrust into you, eventually getting sloppy as his systems overheat. Errors cloud his vision but before he has chance to shut down from system overload, he hears your cries and feels you clench and spasm around him. 

—

When he finally reboots awhile later, seemingly longer than the last time, his hold on you loosens. He hears your soft breathing, the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his, the soft thumping of your heart. 

He speaks out, as he lifts himself away from you. “Are you okay?” 

You hum in response, the mattress suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable than before. “Are you?”

He shakes his head but not in response to your question, wanting you to answer him first as his cock slips out of you, a small whine from you makes him chuckle. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” You smile at him. “Yes, I’m fine.” You look at his neck and the teeth marks that are deep in his tubing before noticing a small droplet of oil seeping through. “Is it bad?” 

“No.” He speaks as he cleans up, gently pressing a towel against your bruised cunt. “A simple fix.”

You lets out a relieved sigh, jerking slightly as he cleans you up, still sensitive from your climax. 

“Your confidence was surprising, I will give you that.” He states as he pulls up a blanket and rests besides you, hand trailing your stomach in soothing motions. His cowl still rests against your shoulders as you cuddle up close to him, you own fingers trailing his metal braces. 

The warmth of his body was comfortable against your bare skin, the soft humming of his inner workings lulling you to sleep. “Thank you.” Your voice was soft, almost a mumble as you try to stay awake. 

Your hand gently holds onto the leash that was still situated around his neck. Maybe he forgot about removing it when cleaning up, or perhaps he was waiting for you to do the honours of taking it off, but either way, it served as a reminder for the night you had just spent. The fire stays burning on the other side of the room as the two of you lay together on the bed, wrapped up in the blanket and fighting the exhaustion that was slowly taking over. However, it was a losing battle as your body relaxes and sleep drags you under.

His arms pull you closer to him, hand brushing against your arm as he pulls the cowl up to cover your shoulder. “Perhaps next time you will not slip.” He chuckles. 

“Next time you will obey.” A sharp yet sleepy tug on the leash causes the omnic to squeeze your arm in a startled response. 

“We shall see about that.”

#overwatch #ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch 2 #overwatch fanfiction #reader insert #collab #collab with t3chborb #yazzfics #yazznsfw

[bonefall]

If you flip the spade upside down and put it on Gorseclaw’s neck, it could kind of look like a tie

Hello anon with the most convenient ask in my inbox, you have been selected to receive a FLOOD OF SKETCHES

I had only drawn Gorseclaw and Ripplestar before, and I'm about to do a redesign of Larkstripe so that she has the "hearts" motif that her son gets. I did a bunch of sketches just to try and figure stuff out so, messy post

Glossary:

Ripplestar

Gorseclaw and Spottedpelt

Larkstripe

Birdflight, Marshscar

After I post this I'm gonna jump back into Clip to play with Cloudstar next

RIPPLESTAR

[ID: A sketch of BB!Ripplestar. The text points out his major features and reads, "Heterochromia: Amber + Brown." Smooth scruff, with an arrow that points out the shape. Ginger on 1 side. Deer-eared. 3 layers with an arrow that points out the three stacks of fur on his chest. Wooly, kinda like a half-shorn sheep.]

I've actually drawn Ripplestar a lot in the margins of my notes and such, so this design's pretty solid.

I change the side the hearts are on, plus the number of hearts, literally every single time I've ever drawn him lmao. It dozen madder.

What DOES matter though is that there's a HEART over his BRIGHTER eye. I use it as a bit of a visual metaphor, if he's trying to size you up or negotiate with you, he keeps you in the bright eye. When he trusts you or becomes comfortable with you in some way, he turns the brown eye on you.

So in most scenes where he's not talking to family I imagine he's not fully looking at his conversational partner. Especially on the Highrock as leader of ShadowClan, because the layout makes the leaders sit side-by-side. Might as well play with that simple logistic fact, y'know?

He does this because I imagine this marking kind of intimidates people. It's like the ginger of his eye socket has set his iris ablaze with fire, while the other is as cold as rain-soaked peat.

The ear on the "colorful" side is also orange. All of his orange is on one side, except for his tail-tip.

He's actually distantly related to Nightcloud-- his Honor Sire (who was known but not involved) went on to have a mate. So he's the half-brother of one of her ancestors, and Nightcloud has inherited this thick, wooly fur texture.

Again, I draw him a lot so this was the easiest one. I didn't have to decide anything besides that I made his nose into a cute lil carebear heart.

The drawing I did for this synopsis of Ripplestar's Rot was actually the first time I drew him, for comparison! It's fun to see what's been streamlined.

GORSECLAW AND SPOTTEDPELT

FIRST sketches didn't feel right.

[ID: BB!Gorseclaw and BB!Spottedpelt. They have long, curly tails, long claws, and bell-shaped heads. Gorseclaw has a sharp 'tie' on his chest, and Spottedpelt has a heart]

I feel like Gorseclaw's spades look too much like diamonds in this one, but I was really going for a tie.

I've been giving him those sideburns for months, so, they don't really fit the "shape theory" but I'm having a hard time removing them lmao.

And this is the first time I drew Spots which is a shame. I love a bad bitch.

If you look at my designs, you can notice that I have a few traits that cats from each Clan "tend" to have. They're all pretty genetically similar actually and there's a lot of crossings between the groups, secret or otherwise, but some traits just get selected for more than others, and StarClan is likely to toss them into kits. SkyClan has saggy skin (like a bear) and really bendy tails.

Don't think it's come through well here, though. In future drafts I'm going to try and make them saggier.

(Why? It actually helps them against insect stings and impact damage, like falling from trees and being hit by branches)

Then I went on to draft 2,

[ID: Second draft of the characters above. Spottedpelt is fatter, with "dapples" on her back which are actually spades, and a distinctive spade-shaped mask. The ears of both siblings are now spade-shaped, and Gorseclaw's tie is different, along with Spottedpelt's heart with is now more of a medal.]

I like Spottedpelt a LOT more in this draft. That's probably going to be close to the final design I do, I'm really vibing with the dapple-spades.

I DON'T like Gorseclaw in this one though, the face shape reminds me waaay too much of Dustpelt's familial face-plate. Absolutely going to revise that, probably making it more mask-like akin to Spots'.

Also very proud of myself for the spade-shaped ears.

Hate Gorse's tie here though, that's not a tie that is a stinkhorn mushroom.

But Spots' medal is excellent. Absolutely keeping that. She is a distinguished little war crime kitty

Still not fat and saggy enough. Coming back to this. I need to learn how to draw a primordial pouch.

LARKSTRIPE

I'm trying to redesign her and I'm losing :/

[ID: BB!Larkstripe. She's a very plain cat with a string of hearts from her eye down to her leg, with a heart-shaped nose, cutie marks, and a heart-shaped tail tip]

This was the FIRST first draft of the redesign and that heart chain is underwhelming.

It felt like too much of a downgrade from the diamond-pattern Larkstripe I did, and I'm worried that maybe it's because diamonds just look so much nicer in a "chain"

I feel like I see too many perfect hearts on chests in WC designs, so when I do them, I try to do something weird with them like what I did to Heartstar

So I turned hers into a little fur tuft splash. I like the idea tbh, I might repurpose it for another design.

[ID: A version of the above sketch with bigger hearts on the chain and a single heart on the flank, followed by another sketch attempting to make the stripe more "blobbish"]

I'm beginning to think that maybe I don't like the sketches because Larkstripe is sad :( I like when I can draw her angry, before the strikebreaking broke her

And unfortunately she is the absolute most tragic character in BB. They took the fight out of her. I figure it would be symbolically fitting for the heart shape on her chest to "break" after Dalestar's decree.

For those asking questions, no, she never joins Skypelt. She is convinced she did the wrong thing and ended up unleashing an era of suffering on the Clans by having Ripplestar follow in her footsteps, though she had no control over him.

She's a character who would offer her life as an example during trials involving the Cleric's Vow, especially since I've gutted Moth Flight in BB. She argues about how important it is to avoid birthing cats who will claim their conquest is holy in the name of their parents.

She would also have something to say to Mudfur, admonishing him for breaking his Vow so openly, even saying that he's responsible for Leopardstar and all of her choices.

Basically, Larkstripe is beaten. She is a very tired, shameful spirit who repeats exactly what Silverpelt told her, during her own trial. She's so grateful to be here that she acts with devotion towards it.

Hurt people hurt people and all

But anyway, I still feel like it's a bit of a downgrade from the older design for Larkstripe, so I'm probably going to keep playing with it.

BIRDFLIGHT AND MARSHSCAR

[ID: BB!Birdflight. She's a tabby with the spades motif, long bases stretching up into hears on her shoulder, side, and flank.]

I want her to look old and tired. She's got that Leafpoolyness about her.

She's technically the very first member of the Tigerkin family, and has those characteristic long-claws.

I imagine in Clanmew her name is actually Yassgafba, "Raptor preparing to take flight." I have this really sad mental image of a majestic hawk that keeps spreading its wings, as if to take off and fly away, but never does.

Fitting, because she waited her whole life for Cloudstar to send word they'd found a new home, to come and fetch her and their children, but never did.

While I'm at the trivia, yes, Ripplestar and her were very close. Larkstripe argues in StarClan that Ripplestar started his war because of her, but it's not true. It was Birdflight who made him believe that Cloudstar would never abandon his family; if they hadn't heard from him, something was very wrong.

She died before he became leader, probably of a sickness outbreak. She likely didn't take the journey because she's immunocompromised in some way, plus the two newborns.

She was given a place in StarClan, but I'm not sure if she followed Ripplestar and Birdflight into the Dark Forest. She DID vote to accept them though.

I think she's practical about this. Leave for the Dark Forest, and you loose your voting power in StarClan.

She sees that there are very few SkyClan ancestors left here, hears Skystar scoff that the others are fools for leaving, that if more had remained then the rebels would not have been damned... and understands the value in his words.

If there's any reason for the Tigerkin Curse (which I hadn't really been working with until now, tbh, I just chalked it up to Bad Mojo on the night of Ripplestar's last stand), it's probably related to Birdflight in some way. Which is why no one knows what's causing it.

I don't know why, yet, though. Maybe it's an accident on her part. She could be crafting their litters, but every time she finishes a set, she can't help but cry about how much the fresh souls remind her of the newborns that stopped her from joining her mate, and her kits in the Dark Forest.

It's probably why the PROPER curse might stop abruptly after SkyClan's return. She joins Skypelt as soon as it's an option.

[ID: BB!Marshscar. He's a scrawny, battle-scarred old tabby with a diamond motif.]

He doesn't have any markings in-canon so I tried to just make all of his scars diamond-shaped. I don't think it works, I'm going to give him some markings.

I like the ears though, that's staying. I might also borrow from the old Larkstripe design, give him those funky diamond-spikes on his chest.

I have barely talked about him, but he is actually very important to Ripplestar. They've been mates since they were young warriors.

I kinda want to make it so that Spottedpelt was Ripplestar's deputy before being killed that night, but it was always implicit that if something happened to them, Marshscar was next in charge.

This drawing is definitely when he's older and more worn-out, he lives a long life without Ripplestar, ruling ShadowClan reluctantly, half-heartedly doing the bare minimum.

It's a downer story, and I think it really fits the theme here that Clan Culture is about to get a whole lot worse before it gets better... but still I love the fact that Ripplestar's Rot just ends with the entire cast like

[ID: Spongebob sits at a diner with his hands folded, frowning slightly, disquieted and deep in thought]

Like there really isn't a happy camper in this one lmao. Nobody wins. Alexa play 'That's Not How The Story Goes'

#The ONLY sketch that's REALLY smiling is Spottedpelt lmaoooo #The rest of the cast: 'nothing in life matters' #Spottedpelt: 'NOTHING IN LIFE MATTERS <3' #better bones au #Sketch requests #Ripplestar's Rot #BB!Ripplestar #BB!Marshscar #BB!Marshstar #BB!Spottedpelt #BB!Birdflight #BB!Larkstripe

[ohdeerfully]

I just read one of your works with Alastor ears and KAKAISKSNSMSDHJSJ IT WAS ADORABLE, can you write one about the reader finding out Alastor has a tail and he's all flustered and nervous about it because well HES THE RADIO DEMON HES SCARY and he can't be scary when his tail wags when the reader praises him (MAKE IT WHOLESOME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

HELLOOO I LOVE ALASTOR TAIL!! tail + more sleepytime = deadly fic combo THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!

Silky Fur

alastor x reader (comfort/fluff) TW: none? join my discord!

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After a year of being together, you and Alastor had fallen into a rather steady nightly routine, though sometimes he was too busy with Satan Knows What and would leave the hotel and you wondering if he would come back to you for the night. When this happened, you often didn’t see him till the next morning—or, even the afternoon.

Lately, that “sometimes” had turned into every night. For the past week. And it was starting to make you feel… kind of shitty, you couldn’t even lie to yourself. You spent so many hours reasoning and making excuses for him—he was an Overlord, after all. No wonder he was so busy! Plus, you just so happened to fall into his life; you shouldn’t expect him to just give up his duties for you.

You looked at the ceiling, arms spread out on either side of you as you tried to convince yourself to stop feeling bad for the sixth night in a row. You missed him next to you, and started to find it harder and harder to get to sleep without his company. You craved him, and you wondered if he craved you in the same way—if he even missed you.

You sat up with a groan after a few more minutes, letting your feet dangle off the side of the bed. It was pointless, you decided, just laying down doing nothing. If you couldn’t sleep, you might as well go do something productive. You threw on a hoodie and made your way down the long corridor, and then down the steps.

This late in the night, the sky had an eerie red glow. It filtered through the curtains of the large hotel windows, casting long, sharp shadows that made your skin crawl if you looked too long. No matter how long you lived in Hell, you never got used to the unfriendly ambience. You had to remind yourself that you were safe in the hotel. You stuffed your hands in the pockets of your hoodie and looked towards your feet as you walked.

There was some paperwork regarding a couple residents you promised Charlie you would help her process. So, you decided you could get a headstart on finishing them, although you didn’t really see the point in the paperwork itself; it was all just going to be horrible criminal records that Charlie would try desperately to ignore.

You opted for the hotel lobby over the cramped office, spreading out the papers across the low coffee table. It wasn’t very comfortable, but you were glad to at least be out of the room.

You sat for a mind numbing amount of time, only listening to the ticking of a faint clock as you processed the information for the residents. It was times like this that made you want to curse Alastor for refusing to allow any sort of modern technology into the hotel. You get it, of course, with Vox and all—but, man, what you wouldn’t give to just have an easy spreadsheet to type this all into.

If you weren’t tired before, you sure were now. Your eyes drug across the papers, blearily taking in the information. You blinked heavily, trying to rid your vision of the tears of exhaustion. You slumped back with a sigh, the pages loosely held in your hands as you rested your eyes for a moment.

Bad idea.

Almost immediately, sleep overtook you, papers slipping through your fingers and drifting across the floor in every direction as your consciousness faded away.

You woke again when you felt your body jostling, then suddenly lifted. It took a minute to wake up enough to peer through cracked eyelids and see that you were being carried up the hotel stairs. You felt familiar arms cradling your back and legs, and the firmness of a chest that your head rested against.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That staticy feeling in the air and prickling your skin was enough to know. You let your body relax again, but couldn’t seem to catch sleep again.

He hummed a gentle tune as he walked, using his knee to turn the doorknob to your shared room. He pushed it open with his shoulder and walked you in.

You felt the plush sheets of your bed as he sat you down, but you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position to look at him. Stare at him. You hoped he could pick apart your emotions just by the way you glared. If he did, he made no attempt at asking what was wrong, and merely looked back at you with his slightly glowing red eyes and wide grin.

“You’ll hurt your back, falling asleep on the couch like that!” He started to chastise you playfully. He turned his back to you and opened up a drawer against the wall.

“Where have you been, Al,” You asked, ignoring his comment. You looked towards your feet. It was hard questioning him, because he didn’t take much seriously, no matter how serious you felt. There was a lump in your throat as you spoke.

“Busy as usual, my dear,” He replied in a sing-song voice. A quiet jazz tune emanated from the microphone atop his cane. Or, would that make it a radio? Both, probably. He rummaged through that drawer for a moment, before pulling out a thin, plain shirt and fuzzy pajama pants.

He walked back over to you, and you noticed the way his eyes flicked across your face, examining your expression. Still, he said nothing. You’d like to think he felt guilty, and didn’t want to admit it—but, truly, you doubted it. He wasn’t one for guilt, after all.

“I’ve been pretty lonely for a week, you know,” You said, folding your arms. “I’d at least like a better explanation.”

You allowed your arms to fall when he pulled at your elbows. You lifted them above your head as he gingerly gripped the edges of your hoodie and pulled it off. He quickly replaced it with the shirt he had grabbed earlier. He followed similar motions with your pants.

As angry as you were, you appreciated intimate moments like this with him. Moments so close, so vulnerable and bare, but still comfortable and sensitive. It was weird, with him being the Radio Demon and all.

“Maintaining turfs and deals is exhausting work, ma moitie, and there’s a few souls that haven’t been keeping up with their side of our bargains,” Alastor explained rather indifferently. Though, you could tell by the strain in his smile and the clipping in the radio static that he was trying his best to be delicate and honest—as possible as that is with Alastor.

“Just– tell me something next time, at least, ‘kay?” You felt embarrassed by the practically begging tone in your voice, but Alastor didn’t seem to notice.

“I suppose it is wrong for a gentleman to leave his lady questioning,” Alastor joked. He meant it, though, and he carefully smoothed your hair in an attempt at comfort.

He stepped away from you, and you frowned at the sudden space. The frown was quickly replaced by a wide smile when you noticed Alastor removing his sharp coat and carefully hanging it by the door.

What a treat, you thought, as you watched him discard the layers of his outfit. Your mouth fell open when he turned his back to you.

“You have a tail?” You asked. Alastor’s ears twitched back for a moment, stiff.

Clear as day, right in front of your eyes, was a tail you had somehow never seen before. Delicate, fluffy, and red with black—just like his ears. You couldn’t stop the stunned laugh that escaped your mouth.

“Regretfully, I do,” Alastor responded. He quickly turned back to face you. His nose was scrunched in disdain and his lips were curled in a frustrated smile. “Don’t talk about it. To anybody.”

You laughed again and quickly beckoned him towards the bed. He complied and sat down next to you. He had noticeably sat in such a way that his waist was angled to keep his tail out of sight. 

You pouted at him, wordlessly motioning towards what you both knew you wanted.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not a pet, nor a toy,” He said roughly. The static in his voice was heavy. You knew he was embarrassed, and that made your grin all the wider. It probably rivaled his own harsh smile.

“I’ll never, ever, ever ask again, ever,” You promised, holding out your pinky. Alastor’s eyes rolled at the motion. Alternatively, he held out his palm for you to shake.

You eyed his hand, then looked back up to him. You jerked your pinky towards him, urging him to take it instead. You weren’t about to actually bind your promise in a real deal. You knew in, like, a week you would probably beg him to see his tail again. 

“How incredibly childish,” He sighed. Still, he curled his hand into a fist and connected his sharp pinky with your own. “I won’t forget about this.” He threatened.

“Yeah, yeah, show me the goods,” You said with a sly smile. Alastor stared at you for a few seconds, narrowed his eyes, and roughly twisted his waist so that his tail turned towards you. He kicked his leg up and over the other, and folded his arms all sassy-like and impatiently waited for you to finish your very important mission.

You smiled gratefully, and gingerly settled your hands on the tail. It was so incredibly soft. As much hatred he seemed to hold for the thing, Alastor obviously took great care in the fur, keeping it silky smooth and combed. 

It seemed sensitive, and you noticed how his ears twitched and turned in response to your touch. His eyes were cast away from you, and his brows were furrowed. Was he blushing? No, probably a trick of the light.

“Your tail is super soft, Al,” You complimented. “Probably the best in all of Hell.”

“Are you quite finished,” He asked through gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut. His own body betrayed him, though, as his tail wagged at you slightly. You held in a squeal of delight at the sight, knowing he would probably leave you right then and there. However, you had been at it for a few minutes and didn’t want to push your luck any further. You sighed in response, and removed your fingers from his tail. 

“I guess, for now,” You said playfully. This elicited a sharp look from the Radio Demon.

“For forever,” He claimed. “We shook pinkies.” 

You managed to hold in the laugh from his words. It was impossible to take him seriously as he said that, especially as he sat with a tail on full display and ears quirked backwards in embarrassment.

You yawned, opting to stop responding to him. You tugged at the hem of his shirt as you fell back into the mattress, and he easily let himself fall alongside you. He was settled next to you, and you practically magnetically attached yourself to him. He was stiff for a few minutes, but slowly unwound and relaxed next to you.

It didn’t take long at all for you to fall asleep. With the familiar heat and weight of his body in the mattress next to you, you were comfortable again for the first time in a week. The feeling of Alastor’s nails playing through your hair was the final straw as a deep sleep erased your senses.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #alastor is kind of a butt at first #his tail makes up for it tho #i imagine its super sensitive bc he ignores it so much #he might be touched starved but u didnt hear it from me!

[anantaru]

— calling him a petname for the first time

including kazuha, zhongli, kaveh, scaramouche x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, very sweet n cute

— kazuha + "love"

"there you go."

kazuha proceeded slowly, carefully walking towards you with a cup of sakura bloom tea in his hand— although it was getting relatively hot around inazuma city, when the evenings shadow deepened into a blue and purple, a sudden cold breeze always pelted itself on your face.

you joyfully accept, pulling up the collar of your jacket to shelter your trembling body before taking the cup in your hand, "thank you love." and you certainly said your next sentence without thinking about anything and all.

in fairness, it tumbled out of you rather easily, but the following heat on your cheeks slammed you like a harsh blow when you realized.

"oh?"

kazuha makes himself comfortable next to you, and he looked absolutely beautiful when you face him directly— from the fierce humidity that had occurred earlier on, his upper garments were faintly plastered against his chest and showing a fine outline of his muscles, but the unexpected shade on his skin, the brilliant, blinding blush on his face was not the sun's fault, no, he cannot talk himself out of that one.

it's certain that while you were surprised by the sudden nickname bumbling past your tongue, he too found himself both dumbstruck and flustered by it, wondering why you never said anything like this before.

"I like the sound of that." he admits bluntly, both bracing yourself from a current of a cold breeze washing over your backs, bursting into the heat, his lowered eyebrows and squinted eyes illustrating a motion of both excitement and understanding.

"how should i call you?" oh, well, you didn't see that one coming, did you? but you laugh at his words, then realize he was actually being serious.

"however you want to." you lean close, resting your head against his shoulder as he slants against you as well, both fluttering your lashes open to watch how the sun still casted a faint yellow light through the sky, both awaiting the coldness of the night.

"I will think of something special."

he promises, because kazuha sees nothing but uniqueness and the extraordinary compassion you fueled him with, he's so desperately in love with you, he can barely manage to calm down his heightened breathing.

in his eyes, it's a sentiment not able to be characterized by words— that's how he'd personally describe it if he had to.

— zhongli + "darling"

black, deep branches that traced the blue black heavens overhead, cascading over the darkened night as zhongli finished the last couple tedious tasks he had left before being able to go home and most importantly— finally enclose you in his arms again.

but it was quite different this night, because in a sudden haste, he perceived the sound waves of footsteps nearby, undistinguished, progressively becoming louder until an unforeseen knock on his door.

"yes?"

the man adjusts his clothing before standing up, in pair with you voicelessly opening the door, yet with a smile, one zhongli had dreamed of all day long.

"hello darling." you joke around, being quick when you step towards a pair of open arms, welcoming you right away. "hello to you too."

as a matter of fact, there were a plethora of feelings being released right now, not from you, you were quite busy squishing your face into zhongli's chest, whereas he caught sudden wind of your welcoming words he, at first, didn't note as precisely as he should've.

at the same time, he was aware you were obviously joking around— which you would do more often than not but for some reason he found himself greatly enchanted by being called something else other than zhongli or morax— which, morax was a name you both agreed on not using anymore, despite his past being a pronounced part of him, he preferred to live a life with you, in the present and near future while leaving the past behind for good.

"darling."

in a trice, zhongli addresses you in the same way, but it sounds a little silly coming out of his mouth, maybe because of the certain manner of speaking he'd use on a daily. whilst, who were you to pass up on being called that as well?

with a giggle, you decide to lean into the flavorful gamble, "yes, darling?" and you're quick with your answer, finding it rather amusing how you were able to practically render your boyfriend speechless for a second.

"no wait!" you backtrack, "it fits you more." and point out with a flourish, placing both of your hands against his warm cheeks before puckering your lips out for a quick kiss, "so i figured why not use it on you tonight."

"very well." he accepts the compliment with a gravelly laugh— you cannot even blame zhongli for acting so awkward about it since he never really had something like this before, a genuine relationship with a human.

his gaze narrowed, your sights locked on like magnets, but his entire face sparkled, with the skin on his eyes a little wrinkled round and under them, and with the mouth a little drawn back at the corners he indicates a smile, voice low and ethereal.

it's almost as if with nothing but this, you managed to make his entire day all the more heavenly and fulfilled.

— kaveh + "sweetheart"

what were the specific chances of losing your house keys three damn times this passing week?

kaveh was truly embarrassed about it and wondered if someone else had been playing tricks on him but ultimately decided to brush it off for once in his life, because truthfully— he was tired, to a higher standard exhausted, of walking around sumeru city aimlessly to reach your home now, where he hoped he could stay the night.

to make things worse, it was pouring outside, violently raining and by the end of his designated route, kaveh was thoroughly swamped and so were a couple unfinished drawings he had originally tugged into an envelope, cursing underneath the gloominess of his breathing at the entire moment.

you open the door for your boyfriend, soused in worry, immediately being as understanding and careful as possible, you knew him after all and frankly, it was written all across his face on how awful his day must've went— his eyes lowed as he watched the ground when you took his hand to guide him into your bedroom, so he could change into the spare clothes he left behind at your place a couple weeks ago.

"i cannot do this anymore!" he curses, freeing himself from his drenched garments, the dramatic mannerism and tone was like written out of a dramatic book, fully illustrated and out in the open, and if you didn't know any better you certainly would've answered with a light hearted giggle.

"it's alright." you smile, "you're home now sweetheart."

and follow up your sentence with taking a warm, fuzzy blanket from a drawer, easily slipping it over his shaking body. but hold on— just a second if he may, did kaveh hear that correctly right now?

"what?" his eyes were glowing with a perception of both excitement and being utterly flustered, forgetting he was sad just a second ago.

"what did you just call me?"

it's done now, he can die a happy man after that encounter.

he was observing himself and noticed how this single word shoot an electric pulse through his bones and limbs, he was on fire, truly, already casting aside and putting away the awful day he had prior, it's like it never happened now.

"sweetheart?" you feign innocence, pulling yourself into your boyfriends chest before propping your chin up to face the blonde, the sweetness and compassion he desperately craved from you spiraling inwardly, "do you like how that sounds?"

"i do." kaveh wraps his arms around your body, sighing deeply in his chest, "i really really do."

and silently hopes you'd start calling him that now, because for some reason, hearing you address him in that way, with that familiar soft flutter and how it idly left your lips lingered in his thoughts, tranquilizing him tenderly.

— scaramouche + "baby"

"ugh."

"stop moving, kuni!"

bothersome, or quite tiresome, two words that would perfectly describe the situation you were a part of right now.

if anything would be said or done, scaramouche should be more than delighted, thankful to his very core, that you were gracefully helping him out with his eyeliner on this fine morning— well, if he wouldn't act like a little diva that is.

"i‘m not moving!" he frowns and rolls his eyes at you, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "but you‘re poking my eye on purpose, admit it!"

"i'm not doing it on purpose!" you swiftly bark back and don't give him a single chance to actively engage in a rebuttal, silently inching a little into him until fully seated on his lap, "you're just making it very hard."

okay, he might've been a little too brass today, but you can't really blame him since he had just woken up, his sleepy image was daubed all over him— not just the low-toned shape of his eyes, it's also about the difficulty of staying awake while you're helping him out, because most definitely was sleeping in sounding a lot more appetizing then going to work right after you're done.

maybe, only maybe, dear scaramouche over there did it on purpose, sabotaging your ways of aid, to have you on his lap a little longer. but it's not his fault so don't even dare saying that, you're so comfy when you practically liquefy into his touch and he cannot stop inching you closer to him.

"i'm almost done." you remind him of his current, active fear and he attempts to yank his head to the other side when you swiftly pulled him back to where you wanted him to be.

you whine loudly, "baby!" and quickly lick your thumb to get rid of the expelled color on his face, "i almost messed it up completely!"

"uh—"

he glimmers a little at the name, but tries to keep it low-key if only his cheeks wouldn't decide to blush right now, in the most inconvenient time, "i— I'm sorry."

you laugh before raising a brow, "damn, i never heard you apologize before." and finish up the last line to his eyeliner, yet staying on his lap before sneakily running your hands over the back of his neck to slant yourself into him.

"i never heard you say baby before either." he admits with a giant smirk, but in his usual fashion, with a little snark on the side as well.

"you're right!" you say all giddy, placing a subdued kiss on his lips, "i should use it more often."

in accessory to your kiss, your eyes sparkled vividly before showing the kindness and benevolence he fell in love with.

now, you had suddenly understood what it was about, that in reality kuni only wanted to spend a little bit more time with you before it was impassable to leave for work.

straightaway, scaramouche can't wait for the next time you'll call him that, the little word he already seems to fancy.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #scaramouche x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #kazuha fluff #scaramouche fluff #wanderer x reader #zhongli fluff #kaveh fluff #kazuha x you #scaramouche x you #genshin headcanons

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hi! I know you just wrote a cockwarming fic with Alastor, but I was just wondering if you would be able to do one with Lucifer? I’m drooling just thinking about it. Thank you!

absolutely i don’t mind doing the same shtick but with other characters! i took a similar approach kinkwise but obviously it’s still different, hope you enjoy <3

warnings: cockwarming, lucifer is kinda a sub but not entirely, exhibitionism, not caught this time, creampie, gn reader i think in terms of body, lucifer calls you birdy, kinky reader and kinky luci, also not proofread, swearing and some dirty talk lmk if i missed any!!

word count: 1.4K

You sat on Lucifers lap, toying with his hair that peeked out of his hat. Lucifer insisted he had company to one of his all important long of hell meetings, however things went left when Mammon urged the king to come to one of his performances, that was definitely for the kings benefit and not just so Mammon could leech off his fame. So there you two sat, up in your own custom web which Lucifer was very much against but Mammon was pushy persuasive. So far things had been a bore, you sat on Lucifers lap paying more attention to the intricacies on his suit rather than the clowns on stage. Lucifer also seemed pretty bored, huffing and puffing occasionally, while muttering into your ear about how this was a scam or how he’d done this act a thousand times, needless to say you both be better off back at his home.

Eyeing up his bored face you casually traced your fingers along his jaw. “Hey Luce,” You whispered to him softly, his eyes casting down to you. “Wanna have a lil fun?” You grinned cheekily wiggling your hips against his, immediately he sucked in a breath, eyes closing. Lucifer wasn’t really good at hiding the need he had for you, often he would crumble under your hands, rarely he decided to be big and domineering, he much preferred when you had the power over him. Felt nice giving up power to someone after all the rest of his eternal life in hell there was no other choice but to stay in power.

“Whatever you want, birdy.” He cooed, eyes casted toward the stage acting as though he was indifferent to you. You unzipped the zipper on his white slacks, and reached your hand inside to palm his soft member. He wasn’t really insecure about being soft around you he was quite prideful in his body no matter the state, occasionally he’d feel not good enough but that typically had nothing to do with his looks, which you admit to being quite jealous of. You palmed him through his briefs, head rested on his shoulder you were annoyed at how the collar of his coat got in the way of his neck, prohibiting you from leaving pretty bruise marks on him. The king twitched, and coughed out fakely to cover the groans he wanted to make, he couldn’t help how sensitive he was when it came to you, it was like you had this spell on him.

Wiggling yourself closer to him you whispered to him, lips dragging sinfully across his ear. “What if somebody sees you like this Luci?” You purr mockingly, you knew he probably wouldn’t give a fuck, he’s been through too much as a king and a fallen angel to care about such things, nonetheless, hearing your scrutinizing tone furthered his arousal. He wasn’t, however, proud of the noise he made when your hand came up to tug at his hair at the base of his neck. “Ohhh golly,” Lucifer groaned beginning in a moan, he quickly fixed his mouth to act as though he was reacting to the show. “You want them to see us, don’t you?” You urged, feeling him grown and stiffen beneath you, it made your thighs clench with need, and suddenly you were onto more devious ideas. Lifting your garments, you pulled your underwear to the side as discreetly as you could. Lucifers eyes fixed on you, brown raised in confusion. “Cmon, let’s relax hm?” You asked, pulling his semi from the restraints of his briefs, pecking his lips as you did so. His eyes closed immediately, mouth chasing your lips as you pulled away, and who were you to deny such a good boy?

Leaning back in you hummed into him, his lips warm and soft, you could feel his lashes flutter against your face as your faces tilted, allowing eachother better access. You sneakily slipped onto him, wincing at the pain that you felt, however Lucifers arms came around to your thighs, helping you slow your pace. You felt every inch of him against your walls, it was hard to not whimper at the feeling of him slotted in you.

As your tongues sloppily danced together, the clown music played in the background, Glitz and Glam came up to perform, and the crowd cheered on. Beside your web was the greed king himself Mammon, who was too observed in the show to notice the fact you and Lucifer were swallowing each other whole. While the two of you sloppily kissed, saliva smearing across each others lips, your body naturally relaxed into his effectively sinking yourself down and bottoming out on his full erect cock.

Sighing against him in revelled in the feeling of him fully inside you, while also enjoying the way he trembled beneath you, not feeling the need to hide any of his desire from you. You pulled away abruptly leaving Lucifer whining, and starry eyed. Jerking up into you Lucifer smiled smuggly at the way you gasped, air entirely escaping your lungs. “How mean Luci,” You chide playfully lovelingly cupping his cheek. Leaning into your warmth the devil melted against your touch practically purring at you. “What can i say birdy, i’m eager to hear you. My favourite sound.” You could tell by the dreamy way he spoke he was already fucked out, and you’ve not even fucked yet.

Pecking his cheek you swatted his chest when he tried once again to grind into you. “No moving, whoever cums first has to call and talk on the phone while the other fucks em silly.” You grin wildly gripping his shoulders, you loved a good frisky game of fun, especially with Lucifer, you found it easy to participate in these types of games. Groaning lowly the devil rolled his neck, hands wrapping around your waist tightly. “Alright, but i'm totally gonna win.” Lucifer stated confidently, his red eyes flipping between you and the show. Glitz and Glam gone, there was some unnamed clown you’d never seen now entertaining the crowd, they seemed to like him.

You wiggled your hips subtly, trying to turn your body around a bit more toward the stage. Part of you wanted the distraction, part of you wanted to tease, either way it was purposeful. “Ohhohoo- you are- really playing dirty,” The king stressed, his tone jumping around anxiously as his claws tug into your thighs, undoubtedly drawing some blood. You hummed out an ‘mhm’ swirling hips round in a manner that could appear as innocent shifting to the outside eye looked casual. Lucifer moaned, curling into the back of your shoulder to bite down. You could feel him twitching almost like a throb, you weren’t helping with your involuntary contractions around his cock. “Alright sweetie calm down!” The king urged his voice breathy and panicked as he tried to stall your movements by clenching his arms around you. Unfortunately all that did was drag you nearer, feeling the entire length of him inside you grazing the delicate areas that made you tick.

You choked on your spit surprised by the abrupt sensation, your back arching away from him as you attempted to gain a little friction. “Lucifer please don’t,” You whined clutching his forarms that were flexed tightly around your torso. You could feel him nuzzling into your back, his heart beating wildly in his chest, then suddenly without any word, he was cumming. He moaned into your shoulder blades, bucking what he could up into you, rocking both your bodies, anything to get you to milk him. He continued to wiggle around recklessly, you clenched and whimpered at the feeling of him filling you, he always had so much in him. Finally after a moment his movement ceased, and like the devil he is, he snaked his hands around to play with you. You moaned as he whispered dirty things in your ear, “Who’s all needy now huh?,” “Cmon i need you raining off this web before we go,” things like that as he brought you to your orgasm.

You saw stars as you came, his dick still snuggly inside you as you clenched and came undone around him, head thrown back in bliss. After a moment of catching your breath you peered around, humility coming back into you, you spun around speedily, burying your face in Lucifers neck, who looked just as fucked out as you were. “Guess we gotta do this again over the phone?” Lucifer asked breathlessly, you huffed out a laugh at that. “Yep, loser.” You teased already thinking up all the naughty things you could put him through while he’s on call.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer morningstar smut #lucifer smut

[moondirti]

due to popular demand, a follow up to this featuring: 18+ content, gaz, ballerina!reader, internet stalking, men being gross, another a thinly veiled character study

Kyle is a good man.

Granted, his metric is not attuned to common standards for morality anymore, nor has it been that way since basic. He's sure that if he were to pick any sheltered samaritan off the street to read out his laundry list of transgressions, they'd balk at the fact that their taxes go to keeping him fed. They'd rather their image of the army stay unsullied and ideal. They'd rather keep him at arms length with a thank you for your service and not confront the blood caked beneath his fingernails.

But he can no longer be held to their degree. No longer exists within these spaces. No. Kyle – or Gaz, if one were to go off of what he's called most often nowadays – is a doorstop. A pestle. Something inconspicuous, obscure, that serves the sole function of making life easier for everyone but itself. And he assumes this role with a handful of others who have nothing else to live for, exiled to crowd the back of Foxhounds and kill at a moment's notice. Foul men. Friends.

If someone were to line up every operative on a special forces unit, or better yet collect the likes of the 141 and asses each for their moral standing, Gaz can rest knowing he'd come out on top. He's not yet as far gone as they are; can enjoy a night out or a pretty bird writhing underneath him without wanting to choke her out. Only devoted to his captain, or the others, to the extent that their professional relationship calls for (no matter how much it itches at him to watch Ghost take care of Soap, or to reject Price when he offers him a drink).

Sure, he laughs at their jokes. Might pitch in when they're swapping stories of their filthiest catch, Soap rattling on about the lass who'd stuffed her tongue up his arse, or encourage them to shoot on sight if they spot a potential threat, civilian or otherwise. Yet the difference is this: when he goes home, he can stuff that all away.

Knows not to let it infest the boundaries of the real world. Off deployment, his comrades play pretend at the noncombatant lifestyle, but the guise is ill-fitting. They're too big for their skin. They stretch and tear at the conventions holding them in place, like feral dogs made to heel. Kyle doesn't have to be tamed. He's still functional, familiar with the expectations held of him. Can submit to integrity more easily than most.

Kyle is a good man.

And that's what he tells himself as he returns home, train car completely void of anyone but himself. He's good for having given you up. He's good for not have followed you home. There'd been a brief lapse of judgement, but he's good for doing something about it before things passed the point of no return.

You've lived this far without his protection, he reasons. Yet it doesn't change the unreachable itch, closed away in a supposedly locked box. Gaz. Or, his captain's voice, cigar-smoked and advisory.

But why should you continue like that.

It's hard to fall asleep that night.

He's sick with worry wondering if you ever got home, bile broiling and distending up his throat at the thought of having abandoned you. It's pure concern that compels him to find your socials, really. Kyle is only searching for an update, or recent post, indicating that you're alive.

With nothing to go off of but a face, he searches for dance studios in both Acton Town, your area, and the Kensington, the area where you'd boarded the tube from. He makes a shortlist of the most reputable ones (your attire seemed to imply that you were a seasoned ballerina) and cross-checks them as hosts of upcoming recitals. Two renditions of Swan Lake and a production of Giselle turn up, each with their very own cast lists. Thus begins a tireless search of every name credited.

His heart almost leaps out of his nose when you eventually load into view, then plummets at how easy you'd been to find.

Your vulnerability only sets Kyle's conviction in stone. Bloody good thing he's got your best interests in mind.

Locked twitter, a LinkedIn, and a public Instagram page which sends his blood pressure skyrocketing after checking your follower count. Popular. And of course he can see why. Over a hundred posts chronicling bright smiles and flattering outfits. You mainly use the account to promote your practice, though; feed full of skimpy little outfits, leotards and exposed sternums and impossible poses.

Stop it. He's here for something specific.

Kyle sips in a deep breath, scrolls back to the top of your page, clicks on your most recent post. A casual video of your leg raised on a barre while your friend counts how high above your previous record you're able to stretch. Your skin is sweat-slicked. Your mouth is thrown open in a half-laugh, half-pant. He almost forgets why he clicked on it in the first place, before the timestamp catches his eye.

30 minutes ago.

So, you'd gotten home.

He can go to bed now.

Exit your account. Swipe up on Instagram to clear it from his running apps. If he's extra disciplined, he'd block you. Rob himself of the temptation to tug himself over the photo of you in the splits.

Kyle is a good man because he knows his limits.

(But Kyle now also knows the address of your studio. That, even if he blocks you, it'll take up space in his chest. A ticking-time bomb. A knowledge that'll haunt him whenever he's on the District, Circle, or Piccadilly lines, and the train announces Gloucester Road. A force, a stone in his throat, that'll grow so large it'll force him to stand up and disembark, to walk until he's standing right outside and wait on you to wrap up rehearsal.)

It occurs to him that the point of no return has long since passed.

inclusivity note: i felt the need to say that, while reader is a dancer, her profession is not meant to imply anything about her body type. flexibility and agility are not limited to thin builds, and while the ballet industry can be very toxic, i've seen my fair share of spaces where all figures are embraced and success is determined only by ability!

#ooo i love him a little delusional actually #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #gaz #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #cod #call of duty #x reader #x afab reader #tw stalking

[vivalabunbun]

Sweet Sweet Nothings

Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage

Word Count: 7K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham

Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!

Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office. 

“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”

“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior. 

A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp. 

“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”

“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters. 

–

“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side. 

Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands. 

Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four. 

“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow. 

“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand. 

“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else. 

“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed. 

Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing. 

There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you. 

His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets. 

The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule. 

The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy. 

–

“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup. 

“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape. 

His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham. 

Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite. 

The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets. 

How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand. 

“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body. 

“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip. 

From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for. 

You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by. 

“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him. 

“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit. 

“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest. 

“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours. 

“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed. 

Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep. 

His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within. 

“Mmm… More…” 

“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit. 

The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more. 

“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair. 

Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted. 

Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all. 

In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it. 

Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering. 

“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle. 

You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines. 

“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you. 

At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features. 

“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully. 

Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl. 

“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his. 

“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear. 

He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process. 

“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue. 

You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight. 

He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release. 

Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close. 

“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.

“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck. 

Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest. 

“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face. 

You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least. 

“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose. 

You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back. 

The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off. 

“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted. 

Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs. 

“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in. 

Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details. 

The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage. 

–

You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times. 

At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. 

“Haitham.” You began. 

“Mm?”

“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring. 

“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up. 

“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band. 

You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore. 

He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness. 

The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you. 

“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you. 

You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring. 

“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile. 

“Did you want me to?” 

“No.” 

You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond. 

Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores. 

“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?” 

“...” 

“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face. 

You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper. 

As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed. 

“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable. 

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them. 

“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought. 

The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk. 

Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently. 

The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind. 

Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you. 

“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back. 

You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight. 

–

It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall. 

Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer. 

“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck. 

Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture. 

Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes. 

“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.” 

If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs. 

Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them. 

The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would  place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit. 

Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them. 

The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable. 

–

Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out? 

“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?”

“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile. 

That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy. 

Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant. 

One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets. 

By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns. 

At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.

Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you. 

Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise. 

You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt. 

Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture. 

“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.” 

Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband. 

“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe. 

Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment. 

“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”

The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture. 

“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.” 

Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome. 

The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor. 

“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”

Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you. 

–

Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.

“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk. 

“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents. 

His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information. 

“Is there any more you would like to discuss?” 

“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket. 

Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor. 

Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy. 

“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.

Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game. 

“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand. 

“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t. 

“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket. 

This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.

“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.” 

Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk. 

“It’s unnecessary.” 

“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.” 

“...”

“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”

“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”  

 Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough. 

You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.

 Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.

However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either. 

“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly. 

“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top. 

“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh. 

“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure. 

“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile. 

“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump. 

Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises. 

–

“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily. 

Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room. 

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves. 

“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.” 

“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.” 

“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.” 

“Haitham-”

“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.” 

“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.” 

“Of course.” 

There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore. 

“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin. 

“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud. 

“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head. 

“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing. 

Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied. 

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible. 

“Haitham, I think my water broke.” 

Nevermind. 

–

 You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself. 

However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you. 

You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all. 

--

“WWAAHHHHH!” 

A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls. 

“It's a boy!” The doctors announced. 

--

“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn. 

Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly? 

“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle. 

Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you. 

To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance. 

“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back. 

“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks. 

Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily. 

“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”

“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”

“I never scowl at you.”

“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”

“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him. 

The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest. 

“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”

“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.” 

Fin~

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #al-haitham x you #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #alhaitham scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin omegaverse #genshin smut #alhaitham fluff #vivalabunbunfics #alhaitham fanfic #al haitham x you #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham imagines

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [9]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 8 | Fic Masterlist | Part 10

Standing in front of the door to your former prison, all your insecurities came rushing back. Suddenly, your newfound identity seemed to evaporate, leaving you feeling like nothing more than a shell of your past self.

"What's wrong, my dear? Why do you keep staring at this storeroom, hm? You know you can tell me anything." Seonghwa asked in a gentle voice, sensing that you were far from okay. He cupped your cheek tenderly, urging you to meet his gaze.

Jongho and Eunsook stood anxiously behind you, waiting for you to reveal the truth to the general. Only then could they finally bring your family to justice for their misdeeds. The weight of everyone's expectations rested on your shoulders.

Please, mistress, just say it, and we will handle the rest.

No matter how hard your husband tried to capture your attention, all you could see was beyond his shoulder, where your family glowered at you. All the determination you had to confront your family diminished, and you were reminded of your true self.

Just a worthless, insignificant piece.

You felt undeserving of Seonghwa's love, too ashamed to confess that this pitiful excuse for a room was where you had spent your entire caged childhood. Would he still want you as his wife if he discovered the truth?

"Come on, my dear. Talk to me, please." The general leaned in, attempting to dominate your field of vision. He didn't like how you kept glancing nervously back at your family as if still afraid of what they could do to you.

Your husband's heart shattered as he gazed once more into your vacant, hopeless eyes. It felt as if he could never truly connect with you. Once again, he found himself lost, unable to reach you. It became clear that your biggest obstacle wasn't trusting him; it was trusting yourself. Despite all his efforts, your insecurities persisted.

Bringing you back to this place seemed like a colossal mistake, undoing all the progress you had made. The words Hongjoong had spoken to you were now pushed to the recesses of your mind, overshadowed by your demons.

Seonghwa's stomach sank when you averted your gaze, blinking your wet eyes with a shake of your head, "Nothing, it's nothing. I... I'm sorry, I don't know why I kept looking here; it's just an old storeroom, as you can see." Your family collectively sighed in relief, narrowly avoiding exposure. For once, they felt slightly thankful to you for not ratting them out.

Of course, it couldn't have been this easy.

Despite the internal frustration, the general flashed a reassuring smile down at you. His plan had crumbled, and you didn't speak up as he had hoped. The head maid and assistant couldn't conceal their disappointment at the missed opportunity.

Casting a glance at his assistant to silently acknowledge the failure of the plan, he squeezed your trembling hand, "It's alright, nothing to be sorry about. Well, if that is all, perhaps we can begin discussing the wedding arrangements then."

Minister Jang immediately brightened, "Of course, let us get on with it. I'm sure we have much to discuss."

With a subtle shake of his head, Jongho signalled to the private investigator that the plan wasn't unfolding as expected. Noticing the exchanged glances, your father raised an eyebrow, "Wooyoung, do you and the general's assistant know each other?"

Both froze momentarily, cursing inwardly at their lack of caution. The fake servant beamed innocently at the minister, "Oh yes, master! I thought he looked familiar; turns out we were from the same village!"

The assistant nodded along quickly with a wide smile, "Yes, what a small world."

Fortunately, the fabricated story seemed convincing, and your father nodded without suspicion, "Huh, what are the odds? Just don't let me catch you slacking off. If you want to catch up, do it after work."

Wooyoung grinned quickly, "Yes, master!" before bowing deeply. Glancing at the general for approval, he was relieved to see Seonghwa nodding lightly, silently expressing 'good job'. His heart raced, still finding it surreal that he was looking at his role model up close and being acknowledged.

Resettling into the main hall, your husband couldn't hide his concern for you. He maintained a firm grip on your hand, a constant reminder of his presence and an attempt to provide comfort despite your lack of reaction to anything. Eunsook, noting your distress, made a point to stay close behind you, silently assuring you of her support.

"Alright then, where should we begin?" Minister Jang clapped his hands together, eager to get it all over with as soon as possible.

Seated opposite you, your three sisters were still seething, their attention fixed on the general's unwavering touch on you. Refusing to concede defeat, they were determined to fight for Seonghwa, unwilling to witness you marrying their dream man in a grand wedding ceremony. He was too good for you.

She doesn't deserve him.

Before the two men could delve into any details, Jinhee, tired of her sisters always being a step ahead, seized the opportunity to speak up, "General Park, I believe I would make a better wife than unnie ever could. I urge you to change your mind and consider choosing me."

Jinah and Jinjoo scowled, feeling a sense of betrayal as they hadn't anticipated the sudden spiritedness from their middle sister. She had always been the calmest among the three. It appeared that the allure of the general was potent enough to pit them against each other for the first time.

The minister smacked a hand on his face in disbelief, growing tired of his stepdaughter's obnoxious behaviour. Just as he opened his mouth to reprimand her, the other two chimed in loudly, "No, I'd make a better wife!" before glaring at each other.

Pressing a kiss onto your knuckles to rile them up, your husband stared at the girls with an amused grin, "Really? Do you think you'd make a better wife? Why don't you each tell me why you think so? I'll consider it."

It was apparent that the general was merely toying with them, but the three were oblivious and engaged in a heated debate among themselves, striving to convince Seonghwa that each of them would make the ideal wife for him.

Meanwhile, you silently accepted your fate, believing that your husband was present to entertain the idea of replacing you with one of your stepsisters. If that's what he desired, who were you to object? You considered yourself fortunate to have been sent to him, and now that he had seen your sisters, perhaps he sought someone better than your useless self.

The general burst into a fit of vicious laughter, singling out the middle sister who promptly straightened up, "You," he pointed, "it seems like you have the most convincing argument. I suppose that makes you the most suitable for me, doesn't it?"

Jinhee vigorously nodded, "Yes, my lord!"

With a sly smile, he continued, "Very well, I'll consider marrying you, but on one condition that your father must agree to," Her eyes widened in excitement while her sisters clenched their fists in frustration, dissatisfied with her being chosen, "Anything! Just name it, and you shall have it!"

"If Minister Jang agrees to retire from his position and let me take over, then I guess I'll think about it."

Your father heaved a deep sigh, frowning at the foolish girl in irritation, "That's enough, Jinhee. Are you even hearing yourself? None of that will ever happen. I'm sure the general is only joking around."

Her stubbornness prevailed as she continued to press, "Father, this is for my happiness! If you loved me, you would agree to that!"

Even her own mother, finally sober enough, shook her head disapprovingly, "Stop it, Jinhee. Do you know what it would mean for the rest of us if your father were to retire?"

Having enjoyed the comedic display, Seonghwa chuckled darkly, "Your father's right; I was only playing with you. After all, I couldn't possibly marry you, even if he had agreed to that condition."

"Why is that?!" She questioned, still determined to have him for herself. She hated the sight of him cradling your hand; it should be her beside him. She had gotten so close to having him earlier that she refused to let the opportunity slip away so quickly.

For some reason, the minister couldn't shake off the ominous feeling he was getting from your husband's smugness. Something wasn't right; this felt oddly like a trap.

In a mock-innocent voice, the general answered, "Isn't it simple? Because you're not even Minister Jang's legitimate daughter; you do realise you're merely his stepdaughter, right?"

Your father and stepmother's eyes immediately widened, knowing exactly where this was going. Before they could do anything to stop it, Jinhee yelled out, "But I am father's real daughter!"

Gotcha, bitch.

Jongho and Eunsook did their best to suppress the growing grins on their faces, relieved that at least their master's plan B seemed to have worked out. During the assistant's time away from the estate, working with Wooyoung, they had managed to confirm the general's suspicions about the three being Minister Jang's actual daughters.

This revelation itself was enough to bring him down, as the three were born when your mother was still alive. And if they were, in fact, his, that would mean he had been disloyal to his wife and had fathered bastard children outside. This was more than enough to tarnish his reputation for good.

Rising abruptly from his seat, the minister cleared his throat loudly, "General Park, please don't take her words seriously. Clearly, she only said that out of desperation. The girl is still young and doesn't know when to stop; do not mind her. Come, let us take our discussion somewhere else."

"Save it, minister. If she isn't your daughter, where would she have gotten the confidence to voice that out loud? Don't make me laugh." Seonghwa retorted coldly.

Finally, you lifted your head to stare at the old man upon hearing the revelation. Could it be true? You didn't know if it was supposed to make you feel any better, but you used to question why your father had treated you so badly when you were his only real daughter. Now, it would make more sense, at least.

Scoffing, Minister Jang clenched his fists, "I would advise you to be careful with your words, general. After all, it wouldn't be too wise of you to slander your father-in-law and superior so carelessly like that. What would His Majesty think of you being unfilial and disrespectful to me?"

If your father thought that threat could save him, he was wrong; it seemed he was only digging himself a deeper grave.

The general peered amusingly at him through his lashes, "You know, it's really funny you should say that. Would it still be considered slander if I had evidence to back up my claims? Oh, minister, you should not have brought the King into this. He was already so disappointed in you when he learned of the truth about you and your dirty deeds throughout the years."

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" The minister stammered, visibly trembling in his spot, and his family could only sit back with terror in their eyes, not knowing what your husband had uncovered.

"Minister Jang, did you really think the King had allowed me to come here just to make wedding arrangements with you? I'd rather burn in hell than have you host my wedding, especially after what you had done to my wife in all the years she had been under your care. I'm only here for your confession, under His Majesty's orders."

A series of gasps rang across the hall as your stepmother and stepsisters froze in their seats, the realisation finally hitting them that they had been under scrutiny this whole time. It became apparent since the minister's suspicious behaviour at the assembly.

Little did everyone know that Seonghwa's investigative work had been funded by the King himself the entire time. The two had shared a deep conversation after the assembly; what initially started off as idle chatter regarding the general's new wife transitioned into a serious discussion as your husband revealed what he discovered about the minister thanks to your arrival.

Your eyes widened at Seonghwa's words, wondering if he had known all along about what had happened to you. Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to face you with a soft smile, "I told you I'd protect you."

Feeling your heart flutter and eyes tearing up with tears of relief, you finally squeezed his hand back, "Thank you, Seonghwa."

Cutting your moment short, your father shook his head in denial, "You're lying. Nice try, General Park. I'm not falling for your trick. If you were telling the truth, why would His Majesty have bothered to send you here when he could have just arrested me?"

Turning back to face the old man, your husband smirked, "Now, where would all the fun be in that? Of course, I didn't expect you to admit everything to me so easily. It was fun watching all of you panic in front of the so-called storeroom earlier. I hope you enjoyed the temporary relief, courtesy of my lovely wife. Someone, bring the minister a chair before we start recounting all the interesting things he's done so far."

Jongho was more than happy to help, "Yes, sir!" He promptly moved a chair to the centre of the hall where the minister stood before returning to his position behind his master.

Your stepmother and stepsisters remained glued to their seats, hearts filled with dread. Jinhee regretted her every action immediately, not that it made much difference. They were already doomed from the moment they delivered you to him.

"Will you not sit, Minister Jang?" Seonghwa teased, and when the old man glared at him, he shrugged, unbothered, "Suit yourself. Let us begin then."

The general stretched a waiting hand in his assistant's direction and waited as the younger man fished a few documents out from his pockets, "Here you go, sir."

"Alright, let's see, where should we start?"

With a devilish grin, your husband flipped through the pages, addressing the minister, "So, were you denying that these three are your biological daughters? Not to worry, I have just the thing to prove it. See, we have their birth certificates and the fake ones you forged right here. You bribed your physician quite a bit for these, huh? Well, it seems the amount you paid was not nearly enough since he spilt everything to us so easily."

The minister's wife pointed a shaky finger at the papers in Seonghwa's hands, "Th-that's not possible. How did you get your hands on those documents?"

"Ah, so you admit these are yours?" The general raised a brow, "I get it; it's hard not to when the only copies to exist were found in your private quarters, hm? I'll have precious Wooyoung to thank for these. Come here, boy. You should be so proud of yourself."

"Thank you, my lord! I'll work harder!"

In front of the minister and his family, the mole finally unveiled himself. All five of them could only gape at the new employee who had recently joined the estate. They praised him for his work and even thought of him as a hard worker. Suddenly, it all made sense why he always seemed too eager to help around. He had been snooping around for the enemy all along.

Your father pointed accusingly at the fake staff member of his estate, "Y-you traitor—"

"How can he be a traitor when he was never on your side to begin with? Let's not change the subject, alright? Now, let us conclude the number of crimes you've committed here; first, you've cheated on your wife and had not only one but three illegitimate children outside of your home. I must say, minister, you're setting a horrible example for the married men in all of Joseon." Seonghwa shook his head in disapproval.

"Next, you've bribed your physician to silence him and then get him to further commit the crime of forging official documents for you. I guess this could have been understandable if it had been a silly little commoner not knowing any better, but my goodness, you are our nation's Minister of Military Affairs! What would the people think of us if they knew their leaders were this unethical?"

"And the worst of it all, you kept my wife caged in that pathetic excuse of a room all her life. You all had a hand in her suffering and abused her endlessly, all for your own entertainment. And what had she done that was so wrong to deserve any of that? Just because she was born from the wife you did not choose and love?" The general spat, feeling his heart ache and anger rise.

It was your turn to rub a thumb softly over his skin to remind him that you were fine now; you were loved and cared for, all because of him. He tightened his hold on your hand, vowing to get you justice.

"Can any of you even call yourselves human?" He growled, glaring at your family. Your stepsisters trembled, avoiding his death stare, feeling like complete idiots, especially after their stupid little innocent act earlier. Why did they even believe for a second that they could have fooled him?

With a deep breath, Seonghwa put on a sarcastic smile, "And with all of that, it should be enough for you to be stripped of your title and for your entire family to be demoted from a noble house to commoners."

The old man's knees went weak, and he ended up plopping into the chair Jongho had placed behind him. Clenching his fists, he shook his head again, "No, you can't do this to us. You can't do this to me. I've dedicated my life to this job and this country. I have contributed so much—"

Smirking, the general cut him off, "Why? Are you unsatisfied with this conclusion? I expected no less from you, you ungrateful bastard. Fine, I guess we'll have no choice but to dive deeper and talk about your most severe crime then."

There's... more?

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what other horrible things your father could have possibly done. Everything that your husband had already listed seemed like a lot to you.

Your stepmother gasped loudly, clutching onto her chest as she took in the general's wicked grin, "He knows..."

Jinah frowned, grabbing her mother's arm in confusion, "What is it? What does he know? What else has father done?" The other two sisters stared at their parents, who looked scared for their lives.

"Yes, I do know, Lady Jang. Did you really think the two of you could keep your dirty little secret hidden forever? As if adultery and illegal document forgery weren't bad enough, you were both audacious enough to commit murder against an innocent person."

Minister Jang and his wife shared a horrified glance, realising that the veil of secrecy they had meticulously woven was now unravelling before them. The colour drained from their faces, and beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.

The mistress of the Jang estate stammered in fear, "N-no, that's not true! You're making baseless accusations, General Park. We haven't committed any murder!"

The general remained unfazed, a cold stare fixed upon them, "Really? You haven't? Then tell me, why do the two of you seem so afraid? You weren't trembling with fear when you poisoned the first Lady Jang to death, and you certainly weren't afraid when you robbed my wife of her mother."

Staring at your father and stepmother in horror, a wave of disbelief crashed over you. The revelation hit like a tidal wave, leaving you stunned and paralysed. The people you thought were simply cruel for torturing you all your life had now revealed a more sinister truth – they were the reason you never knew your own mother.

The shock and betrayal etched across your face, your eyes locked onto theirs as the weight of their sins settled in. It wasn't just about the abuse and mistreatment; they had orchestrated a tragedy that deprived you of the one person who could have brought warmth and love into your life.

"And what evidence do you have to prove that?" The minister finally mustered the courage to challenge the accusations, still putting up a fight. His three daughters, nearly as shocked as you were by the revelation, couldn't fathom that their parents might have actually taken someone's life.

Seonghwa remained unyielding, maintaining his cold gaze, "Not to worry, I have it all right here." He gestured to the documents Wooyoung held, revealing a series of letters exchanged between the couple all those years ago detailing the best way to end someone's life and make it look like a natural death, as though they had succumbed to an ordinary illness.

"Isn't it an uncanny coincidence that the physician confessed to the first Lady Jang dying from mandrake poisoning, and simultaneously, there is an abundance of mandrake planted in your garden? Alongside these incriminating letters, everything aligns seamlessly. There's nothing you can say to undermine this evidence, minister. Would you care to explain your actions now?"

Minister Jang's face contorted with defiance and anger. He took a deep breath before finally admitting, "Fine, it's true. I did it; I killed that woman. But you have to understand; the first Lady Jang ruined my life. I never wanted to marry her in the first place. It was a political arrangement forced upon me to please her influential family. They held more power than I did at the time."

His eyes darted around, gauging the reactions of those present, especially his daughters, "I clawed my way up, working tirelessly to reach my position as Minister of Military Affairs. I didn't need her family anymore. So, I did her a favour – I ended her unhappy marriage and made room for the person I truly loved."

He looked at his current wife with a twisted sense of affection, completely ignoring the horrified expressions around him, "I had to make a choice for my own happiness. No one understands the sacrifices I've made for this family and for the sake of my love. It was the only way."

"If you hated my mother so much, why did you bother having me then?" You finally croaked, voice breaking as you choked back tears. Seonghwa pulled you close to him, never wanting you to go through any more pain alone.

Your father let out a scoff of displeasure, "I never wanted you. You were just another duty to please your mother's family. When she died, I refused to let any of them near you out of spite. You were a constant reminder of her, a spitting image that angered me every time I looked at you. That's why I hated you so much."

His admission hung heavily in the air, each word cutting through the silence like a knife. Your eyes, filled with sorrow, met his cold, callous gaze. Your husband tightened his hold on you, offering silent comfort as the painful truth unravelled.

"And there we have it, the confession His Majesty wanted. Royal Secretary Choi, did you manage to get all of that?" The general called out with a smirk.

To the minister's horror, the King's closest and most trusted aide emerged from the entrance, flanked by a team of royal guards, "I sure did, General Park. You've done well; we'll take it from here. His Majesty shall decide the Jang family's final sentencing."

« Preview of Part 10 »

As Eunsook followed her master's orders to assist you out of the hall and to the waiting carriage at once, your husband stayed behind to express gratitude to the dedicated private investigator.

"You've worked hard, Wooyoung. I assure you we will compensate you for your excellent performance. You didn't have to help us this far, but you did, and I appreciate it."

The younger man enthusiastically bowed, "It's my pleasure, sir! I'm a huge fan of yours; I think people don't appreciate you enough for defending our country! Those who think you are heartless are clearly mistaken. If only they'd seen you today. You are a wonderful husband, my lord. It's reassuring to know Lady Park has you."

Clearing his throat, the general looked away and fought the faint blush dusting his cheeks, "I'm glad you think so. I can only hope she thinks the same."

Wooyoung grinned, "I'm sure she does, my lord. I've seen how Lady Park looks at you; I can tell you mean a lot to her too," Seeing Jongho approaching to escort his master out, the informant bowed one final time, "It was an honour working for you, sir. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you ever need my services again!"

Seonghwa nodded appreciatively, "I'll keep that in mind."

Just as he turned to leave, the royal secretary came up to him, "Before you go, General Park, His Majesty wishes to meet you and Lady Park soon to discuss your actual wedding arrangements."

Nodding lightly, the general replied, "Got it, I'll see you then."

"Oh, and one last thing; I know you've both been through a lot, but the worst is over. I wish you and your wife happiness."

"Thank you, San."

Y'all I'm not even gonna lie, this part literally gave me a whole ass headache LMFAO I hope this felt satisfying enough! Of course, we still don't know what consequences the evil family are about to suffer muahaha😈

Also, the second mood board depicting the general's estate is out! Go take a look if you haven't already!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

[fandomxpreferences]

Now Your Mess Is Mine

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader (both over 18)

TW:angst, mentions of abuse, fluff, I think thats it

Summary: In which JJ is touch starved and you take care of him.

Word Count:2.7k

A/N: this was supposed to be short and fluffy but as per usual, it took on a life of its own

JJ doesn't have a lot of things going for him in life as far as he's concerned. He's practically an orphan, he gets fired from every job, and he never has more than twenty dollars to his name. He hasn't done a lot right in his life, but the best decision he's ever made is choosing you. 

He's never felt a touch or a love as gentle as yours. Hell, for the first seventeen years of his life, he doesn't recall feeling anything but a fist. Then you came along, bright as the sun and radiating the most beautiful and intoxicating energy he's ever felt. 

You're always gentle with him, soft hands grazing his body whenever you get a chance. JJ didn't know that he craved physical affection until he felt your small supple hand in his large calloused one. 

He had no idea he loved cuddling until he was surrounded by you as you wrapped around him like a koala, an aroma of tanning lotion and saltwater overwhelming his senses.

He would've never imagined himself the type to take lavender-scented baths until you pulled him into the bubbles with a bright smile, giving him a beard as your loud giggles seeped into his soul and lit him up from the inside out.

Everything about you is pure and wholesome. Light radiates from you, casting away any semblance of darkness that once cast itself over him. You make him a better man, your face popping into his head before he makes a decision. 

He wants to make you proud, to honor and respect you. He wants to be someone you can call yours loudly, shouting it from the rooftops with no shame. He doesn't understand how or why you love him, but he chalks it up to you being some sort of angel.

The rest of the Pogues used to make fun of you two, but they've come to appreciate the way you even JJ out. The two of you are never more than a few feet apart, your bodies always touching in some capacity. 

It makes him feel safe and peaceful. It's the only thing he can think about as he lays on the HMS Pogue with you between his legs and his closest friends laughing around him.

JJ's eyes flutter closed as your nails rake across his scalp and he revels in the sun's rays as they warm his tan skin. He finds himself drifting off when your bubbly laughter floats to his ears and your belly shakes his head as it rests against you. 

It causes a large smile to split his face and he shifts to look up at you. There's nothing but pure child-like joy on your features with your head thrown back, your mouth open and the corner of your eyes creased. 

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and he presses a kiss to your hip bone while squeezing your calf lovingly. It draws your attention back to him and you look down at him with a bright smile. 

"Hi." He whispers and you lean down to kiss the tip of his nose. 

"Hi, handsome." 

You hear Sarah say aww while John B gags dramatically and lift your hand to flip him off. 

"Are you having fun?" You ask and JJ nods with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

You squint down at him and before you can ask what he's about to do, he's jumping to his feet and scooping you up in his arms. You let out a loud squeal and flail around as your laughter echoes off the water. 

"JJ Maybank don't you dare!" You shriek through loud giggles, but it's too late. 

His feet are already leaving the side of the boat and the two of you plunge into the ocean. You kick your legs as you resurface, wiping at your face and hair while JJ grins like a little boy. 

It's only a matter of seconds before you hear a chorus of splashes and the rest of the group joins in. Before you can blink, there's an all-out splash fight, the six of you laughing and having the time of your lives. 

You're just dodging an attack from John B when you feel strong arms wrap around your waist and JJ takes the brunt of the water being sent your way. 

You turn and wrap your legs around his waist, your arms moving up to hug around his neck. 

"What are you doing, mister?" You ask with a quirked eyebrow and he leans in to give you a sweet kiss. 

"I was starting to have withdrawals, baby. You know I can't go more than a few minutes without feeling you." 

You almost laugh, but the sentiment goes straight to your heart and your features soften. 

"I love you." 

He nuzzles his head into your neck, hugging you tightly against his chest, and places a kiss on your collarbone. 

"I love you too." 

That night as everyone is sitting around a bonfire, you feel worry start to itch at you. JJ went home to get some things, but it's been almost three hours. 

You know better than anyone what his home life looks like, he's collapsed into your arms weeping more times than you can count. 

There's an unsettling feeling in your gut screaming that something is wrong, and with each second that passes it only gets louder. JJ never goes home for longer than necessary, and he promised he'd be quick. 

You're just about to get in your car and go look for him when you hear the rumbling of his dirt bike as he screeches to a halt. The group shares a confused look and you rise to your feet, ready to be near your boyfriend again. 

You stop cold in your tracks when he kicks the bike over, anger clearly clouding his usual light-hearted personality. JJ is like a golden retriever and loyal to a fault, so when he's like this it sends everybody reeling. 

You watch as he knocks over a few more things in a fit of rage before storming inside and you decide to follow. You can hear footsteps behind you and turn to shake your head, instructing your friends to let you handle it.

Your steps are light as your feet carry you up the steps and into the bathroom where you hear the shower running. You open the door as gently as possible, JJ's back greeting you as he stares into the mirror with tears streaming. 

"Hey, sweet boy. You okay?" Your voice is soft as you ask the question you already know the answer to and it sends a pang of hurt through his chest. He hates when you see him like this, weak and vulnerable. 

He wants to be the strong one, your rock, yet more often than not the roles get reversed. You watch him silently, allowing him space to open up if wants to. 

He doesn't say anything as his head drops and you already know what happened. You step into the room fully and close the door behind you, moving tentatively in his direction as if he'll shatter if you move any faster. 

"Let's take a shower, okay?" 

You're so gentle and kind as you say it, and it causes fresh hot tears to gather on his lash line. You know that JJ is touch starved on a good day, but moments like these are when he really needs you. 

You can almost read his mind, aware that he's fighting the urge to put up his walls and shut you out. 

He doesn't want to though. He wants you, he wants your sweet touches and quiet whispers as you take care of him. 

He feels selfish, but he's well aware that while you're fragile as a butterfly around him, you have zero qualms about tearing through his armor like a knife through butter. 

Your touch is featherlight as your hands work diligently to remove his jewelry. You start with his bracelets, carefully slipping them off his wrists before moving on. 

Next, you work on his rings, delicately pulling them off and kissing the pad of each finger when you're done. 

You finally get to his necklace, your breath tickling the back of his neck as you focus on unclasping it and setting it on the countertop. 

He watches in the mirror as you work, feeling an inescapable amount of love weighing down his heart and mind in the best way. 

You slowly turn him around to face you, your eyes meeting his to ask for permission as your hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt. 

He hesitates before nodding, his eyes squeezing shut and lungs stopping as you glide it up his torso and over his head.

He can't stand to open them and see the look on your face. It's not that he thinks you'll be giving him a sympathetic expression, no it's not that. 

It's that he knows you'll have an understanding look, completely devoid of any surprise. He hates it. He hates that you're so familiar with this that it doesn't even elicit a normal reaction anymore. 

The first time it happened, you gasped and tried to conceal the tears that welled up at the sight. The second and third times you still seemed somewhat shocked, but by six months in you were desensitized. 

Though Luke has never hurt you directly, he hurts you every time he sends JJ back to you in this state and he hates his father for it. Hates him for it more than he does for hitting him, for stealing from him, for neglecting him. 

He shudders as your fingers ghost over the fresh bruises on his stomach and ribs, the contact leaving electricity buzzing right under the surface. 

"Oh, JJ. Baby, I'm so sorry." 

Your voice is barely above a whisper and he chokes down a sob. He despises everything about this. 

He wants to throw up whenever you apologize as if any of this is your fault. As if you're not the one thing that single-handedly makes it better. 

He keeps his eyes shut as your lips press delicate kisses to each mark. They're still fresh; swollen but not quite darkened. 

You can see the faint beginnings of bruising, and you know the dark hues of black and purple will spread in the days to come. 

You make a mental note to ice the injuries before continuing on with getting him undressed. 

You're methodical as you go through the motions, stripping him down to nothing before removing your own clothing as well. 

He steps into the water first, and you take his outstretched hand to keep your balance as you follow suit. 

It's silent as the water washes over the two of you, no words need to be said. There's an unspoken understanding for times like this, and you do what you do best. 

You shower him in love and affection, gently washing his body before lathering shampoo in his blonde hair. 

You see the tension dissolve from his body when his shoulders drop as you massage his head, and take your time. You know he needs this. 

You press sporadic kisses to his skin as you follow his routine, and he melts into you. Your lips press right between his shoulder blades, then the back of his neck, then his cheek as he turns to wrap you in his arms. 

He returns the favor, washing you up lovingly and letting you rinse off. You reach to turn off the water like usual, but stop when his hand catches your wrist. 

You turn back to look up at him and your heart shatters at the sight of his bloodshot eyes. 

"Do you think I'm like him? Do you think if I have kids one day I'll treat them the way he treats me?" 

His voice is so meek, and your heart squeezes painfully. This is new. 

Usually, you spend the night drowning him in your presence and the next day, it's like nothing happened. He's never actually opened up about it, and you're taken aback. 

You study his face for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. Your hands reach up to cup his face and you force him to look you in the eyes. 

"JJ, you are nothing like Luke and you never will be. You love your friends, and you've shown time and time again that you'll do anything for them. You love me in a way I never thought possible. You are the best person I have ever known, and I don't ever want to hear you speak about yourself like that again." 

Your voice is kind but firm, and he sucks in a breath as you continue. 

"If you have kids, they will be the luckiest little shits to ever walk the earth. I know how much love you have to give, and if how you treat me is any indication, your kids would be so loved they wouldn't even know what to do." 

You finish with a searing kiss and when you pull away, his eyes are still shut in bliss. His fingers are digging into your hips, and he loosens up just enough to let you shut off the now-cold water and open the shower curtain. 

"Let's get dried off and go to bed, okay?" You suggest and he doesn't answer, instead just following you into the cold air. 

The two of you dry off and throw on the change of clothes that are now sitting on the counter. 

You assume Sarah or Kie put them there, and remind yourself to thank them later. Once you're dressed, JJ makes his way to the guest room and you shuffle into the kitchen. 

You start rummaging through the freezer to find something you can use as a compress, your hands finally landing on some frozen peas. When you shut the door, John B and Sarah are watching you with sad eyes. 

You give them a small smile and John B nods knowingly. You turn to leave when the man's voice rings out. 

"Hey, thank you." He says and you look at him with nothing short of confusion. 

He recognizes this and takes a step forward. 

"I overheard a bit when I put the clothes in there. You're really good for him, and I just want you to know how much I- we- appreciate you being there for him. He's been better since he met you." 

You swallow thickly and give him a quick hug, muttering a short 'thanks'. You know he knows what you're thanking him for. Partly for the clothes, but mostly for the kind words. 

He squeezes you back and you pull away, heading off to tend to your sweet boyfriend. When you step into the room he's leaning back against the headboard, his eyes fixated on the small tv that's playing some football game. 

His gaze darts to you when he notices you and he gives a heart-stopping smile. You crawl up next to him and place the cold bag on the spot that looks the worst. 

Your pressure is light and that's another thing that eats at him. 

The fact that icing his battered body is second nature to you now makes him ill, but he still lets you do it. Part of him wonders if he should have hidden this side of his life from you, sheltered you from the grim reality. 

A bigger part of him is glad he didn't. He went through this alone for so long and it's nice to have someone that loves him just the same, even after finding out the ugly truth.

He doesn't shy away from the sensation and it breaks your heart all over again. 

You're painfully aware that it's because he's used to this, and you want nothing more than to take him away from all this and give him the life he so deserves. 

The two of you just lay there for a while as you take care of him and he absentmindedly runs his hand through your hair. 

When the bag starts to get warm, you settle down under the comforter, and JJ curls into you. His head rests on your chest and he lets the steady beat of your heart lull him to sleep. 

"I love you." You whisper and JJ tangles his legs with yours. 

"I love you too."

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank angst #jj Maybank fluff #outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #outerbanks angst #obx #obx imagine

[yuanology]

this is what being gojo satoru's weakness feels like—

the door to your apartment creaks open at precisely three in the morning; the witching hour. it's terribly fitting, you'd like to think, with how satoru has a tendency to flit in and out of your life with minimal warning, sporting new bruises and scars every time he comes back. it has become something you learn to expect, so you always leave the door open for him.

he says nothing when he approaches you, footsteps light against the hardwood floor, but he knows you are awake. you know that he knows this because the bedroom door soon slowly gets pried open as well and there is an added weight on the mattress next to you. satoru still says nothing, and you still pretend to be asleep.

after this, comes the following routine:

one, satoru will turn you slowly on your back (if you are not already on your back), and then he will;

two, sling his leg over your waist, moving to straddle you. his ass is flushed against your pelvis. after this, he will either do the following;

three, he will rest there, his hands either framing both sides of your face and pressed against your pulse over your throat and over the beating heart over your ribs. or, he will be impatient, desperate to wash away the thoughts of today's sins and he will directly move to;

four, grind his hips slowly, rolling it in a way that he knows you would enjoy if your eyes were open to watch him. here, he is always languid no matter what tension builds underneath his skin. oftentimes, you're already awake for this part, but you always allow him this moment of false privacy. after this, he will;

five, he will lean close, his mouth pressing open mouthed kisses over your throat and collarbone where the skin is visible from above the fabric of your shirt. here, is the part where he slowly lets himself get caught in the rush—all wandering hands and panted breaths and a kind of vulnerable boldness that he will never allow anywhere else.

this is where the routine ends. this is where you decide what you wish to do with the god begging for a glimpse of his own humanity in your hands.

your eyes will flutter open slowly, drinking in the sight of the moon's rays casting pale shadows all over satoru's skin. there is a halo borne around his head— creased and warped and ruined by the touches of the people who is supposed to take care of him. it is in this moment you will always realise the sheer gravity of your situation, the implicit trust pushed into your hands, the explicit faith he instills in your kindness.

"satoru," you murmur, soft and slow. your hands move to rest on his waist, never quite guiding him to move faster or to stop, merely ever grounding him into the moment. "what do you need?"

because this arrangement is never about what you want, only ever about what he needs. because you only ever want him to feel safe, and he only ever needs you to make him human.

for a moment, you are almost certain that satoru will say nothing. this has happened before in the past, when satoru will climb into your bed wreathed in the shadows of the early morning and he will say nothing as he allows you to guide him through his own thoughts. during these moments, you must always treat him with utmost care; fine porcelain and delicate china designing the bones and structures that crafts the body of the god the shaman world reveres so cruelly.

but tonight is not one of those nights.

he blinks at you slowly, like a cat, like a ghoul, like a boy reawakening from a day filled with haze. he whispers your name, his voice hoarse as if unused. your hand inches higher, moving up to rest on his sides, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs accompanying each of his breath.

"satoru," you try again, because you are relentless when it comes to satoru. because for a man who saves so many people so many times, people rarely ever come around to save him. "look at me, sweetheart. what do you need?"

his breath shudders, his eyes falling shut. he leans forward, his face finding itself a home where it is buried in the crook of your neck. his response is soft, quiet, nearly inaudible if you are not listening to him. but you are always listening, because satoru always has something worth saying and no one else will listen to him.

"please," he murmurs, and you can feel him falling apart in your arms in real time. "just take it all away."

and your heart breaks a bit for this man, because you know what this entails. because you know what it means when he wants the world to be stolen clean from his hands.

"alright," you say in response, your nails digging into to scratch at his back. welts immediately begin to bloom all over his skin, but satoru is shuddering in your embrace and you already know that it is the right thing to do. "get on your knees. i want to fuck your face."

satoru scrambles quickly to comply. he slides off of you like oil off ice, even when infinity is nowhere to be found, and he gets off the bed. he moves to kneel on the floor instead, over the soft carpet that you had installed after you realised how much satoru liked simply staying on his knees, simply lazily sucking you off as he allows himself to drift off and away from all of his own thoughts. you shuffle to the edge of the bed, sitting with your legs parted so that satoru can move to settle in between them.

his hand moves to your thigh, a visible swallow tracking a long line along the column of his throat. "may i?" he whispers, his tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. satoru blinks up at you with wide eyes, pleading at you as if he is afraid of being pushed away, and there is a part of you that wants to cry for him.

but you don't. instead, your hand finds purchase in his hair, running through the soft strands, and you tell him, "go ahead, baby." because there is nothing better than you can do for him than this.

he smiles at you; none of that bright as the sun grins that he would give to the rest of the world. no, this one is more muted, desaturated, but no less genuine. this is gojo satoru at his softest moments, at his most honest. you follow his guidance as he gently manoeuvres you so that he can pull off your pants and boxers.

when you are once again situated on the bed, the both of you finally comfortable and pleased by the situation, does satoru begin to lean in. it starts slow, at first; kitten licks on your tip as his head begins to bob. he takes in your length slowly, bit by bit with all the hesitance of a virgin.

you both know better, though; all of this is part of a show, the one where satoru acts all innocent and boyish and oblivious so that you can take him by his hair and teach him how to take you properly. it's the same game you have been playing with him since the day you first took his virginity.

"is that all you've got?" you murmur, your voice mocking in that now familiar lilt that always spurs satoru on. this time is no different as he keens around your cock in his mouth, pulling off so that he can pout at you with pretty pink, spit-slick lips.

"i don't—" he cuts himself off with a soft whine, his knees shuffling forward so that he can get closer to you. you cup the back of his head in appreciation, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers in a subtle act of approval. satoru immediately goes lax, all of the tension accumulating on his shoulders finally bleeding out as he simply looks up at you with wide, lost eyes.

"you're too big," he tells you, a familiar script. the corners of your lips twitch; into a frown or a smile, you could no longer tell. "i don't know if i can take it."

"shh, baby." this one is a little different, but the glaze in satoru's eyes at the sound of your falsely-comforting words is all the same. "don't you want to be my good boy?"

"yeah," he breathes out. he shifts closer, always so eager. "wanna be your good boy."

you hum, tapping the head of your cock on his lips. "then open your mouth, and take what i give you like a good boy, alright?"

it's easy, after that. satoru no longer plays any games. instead, he lets his jaw drop open easily, his lips parting to take in your cock. you slide yourself into the velvety warmth of his mouth inch by inch, watching his face swiftly acquire that dazed, fucked out look as you stuff him full on your cock. pretty, you think to yourself as you stroke his hair gently.

"see," you whisper, bending over so that your mouth was hovering over the shell of his ear. "you can take it. good boy."

satoru whimpers around your cock, nearly choking on it as he does, but his eyes are rolled back to the back of his skull already, and you know he's most pliant like this. you straighten as you push yourself off the bed to stand properly. the change in angle has the tip of your cock meeting the back of his throat, and you both let out a choked moan at the feeling.

you look down at satoru, your hand tightening its grip in his hair in warning. "i'm gonna fuck your throat," you tell him again, a second warning, and you begin to thrust into his mouth shallowly. "and you are going to take it, yeah? you're gonna be so good for me, won't you, baby?"

if this isn't what he wants, satoru knows that this is the time to push you off. just three repeated taps on your outer thigh and you will pull off immediately. you don't want to hurt him, not when he is already hurt so often.

but satoru's eyes meet yours, summer seas filled with determination, and his hands only move to cross behind his back, wrist caught in his hand. like this, he looks like the perfect image of subservience. no longer gojo satoru, the god, but rather simply satoru, a boy eager to please.

you roll your hips once, twice, experimentally to gauge out satoru's reactions. when he lets out a low moan, a muffled consent, your hand temporarily leaves his hair to thumb at his slick lips, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth, leaving a mess all over his face.

"keep your eyes on me, pretty boy," you tell him, your voice low and heated. "i want you to watch me as i make a mess out of you."

satoru makes an aborted motion, the familiar buffered movements of a nod interrupted, and you smile. your precious satoru is always so damn eager to be good for you, to be good to you, that you can't help but wonder if perhaps this is your greatest blessing or a premonition for something worse.

your hips rear back, and you fuck into his mouth in earnest.

satoru's eyes immediately widen at the feeling of your cock filling up his mouth at rapid speed, the head bumping the ridges of the back of his throat. a high whine slipped out of satoru, the sound watery as it was muffled by your girth.

your hand once again finds purchase in the soft strands of his hair, but you no longer card at it gently. rather, you gripped at it; holding him upright by only his hair as you use it as leverage to make his head meet your every thrust.

choked, garbled sounds escaped satoru's throat, and you kept the sound of your own groans and moans to a minimum so you could enjoy the sound of satoru's aborted attempts at telling you how good you felt. satoru has never been quiet, not when you are involved, and even as you fuck his face, he will always, always try to tell you how good you're being to him.

"you look so pretty like this, baby," you coo, your voice breathless. "so goddamn gorgeous."

and satoru is. he's so beautiful, even out of bed, casted by rays of sunlight, untouchable in the daylight, but there is something almost otherworldly in the beauty he emits when he is yours. because here, on his knees, satoru is a different sort of gorgeous—he is stripped of his godhood, of his title, of his crown, and he is reduced to being just your good boy, your pretty, pretty satoru, your satoru. no matter how briefly, no matter how ephemeral.

but that isn't the most important factor in what makes him look so ethereal. no, it's the fact that for a man forced to be on his knees, satoru never once looks out of place. he looks up at you, long lashes revealing summer blue, and there is a dazed smile on his lips even where it is being wrapped around your cock prettily. it's the fact that gojo satoru, for all his pride and arrogance, will always willingly get down on his knees for you and he will enjoy having your presence be lorded over him. because satoru, your satoru, knows that you are his just as much as he is yours.

even on his knees, even when he is relinquishing all power into your hands, he still conquers.

fucking beautiful.

satoru constricts around you when you shift the angle ever so slightly to reach deeper into his throat. for a moment, you almost falter as you watch his hands closely. but they don't move, remaining where they are positioned behind his back, and you take that as your cue to keep things going at that steady pace.

tears begin to cloud satoru's beautiful eyes, clouds dotting at warm, clear skies, and you have to stop yourself from fucking him deeper, fucking him rougher, because even satoru has his limits and your job is to bring him to those limits, but never beyond those limits.

the sight, however, admittedly brings you close to your high. you feel warmth beginning to pool in your gut, steadily building as you guide his mouth to take you in further, deeper, until there is a bulge forming in his throat, matching the shape of your cock.

satoru keeps his eyes on you the entire time, the good boy that he is, and you know that he can see that you're close, because he starts doubling his effort. no longer does he simply take you, he begins to hum around your cock as well; the vibrations sending electric thrills running up his spine. low pants begin to escape your lips as you tug at his hair.

he whines.

"i'm gonna cum in your mouth," you tell him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. "and you're gonna swallow it all like a good boy, is that right?"

satoru's eyes glaze over, and he moans around your cock. you feel your composure breaking, your movements growing erratic. with the purchase you have in his hair, you bring his face close to your hips until his nose is buried in your pelvis, nestled amongst your happy trail, and you're spilling down his throat.

satoru fucking swallows it all like a goddamn champ. he doesn't even struggle, choking on it at first but quickly finding rhythm like the damn prodigy that he is. he keeps his eyes trained on you the whole time, you know he does because you can feel the burn of his gaze on your skin even as you tip your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips.

you make him stay like that for a moment longer, choking on your cock and your cum, before you finally pull out. his lips were shiny with spit and dribbles of cum, his eyes still glazed over by pleasure and tears, his face looking like a fucking mess and his hair sticking up in every direction.

"come here," you say as you fall back onto the bed, and he scrambles to follow.

he climbs into your lap and his lips are on you immediately, his hands scrambling to pull you closer to him. satoru's actions are filled with anxious energy, one that you recognise immediately. this is beyond just his desperation to feel you close to him after you've fucked his throat, this is satoru seeking repentance.

"what," you start, your head still feeling light. "what'd you do?"

"i'm sorry," satoru rasps out quickly, sounding so guilty that you can't help the frown that creases your expression. it's the wrong thing to do because the anxious energy increases and satoru is scrambling closer to you, hands grabbing onto your shirt. "i'm sorry, i didn't—"

"satoru," you say, not reprimanding, simply grounding, as you force him to still by grabbing his hips. "what happened?"

satoru swallows, looking at you with lost eyes. "i didn't mean to cum," he whispers. "i'm sorry."

for a moment, your head is entirely empty. satoru is still gnawing his lower lip nervously as he looks at you, watching you, anticipating your next move. but you honest to god can barely even think because you were watching satoru the entire time. his hands were behind his back and he barely even grinded against the floor, so how could he have—?

your hand moves to cup him, your thumb brushing over the wet spot. satoru stiffens, even as a weak whimper escapes him. "i'm sorry," he tells you again. "i didn't mean to."

fuck.

"it's okay, baby," you tell him hurriedly. your hands move to cup his face, feeling your brain come back to life. you wipe the tears out of his eyes, the clouds once again clearing to reveal cerulean blue. "i never told you that you couldn't cum. it's alright, baby. you did a good job."

he sniffles. "i'm still your good boy?" he asks, his voice so quiet that your heart breaks for him.

"yeah." you press a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close. "you're still my good boy."

and satoru is looking at you now with wide, guileless eyes, looking so much like a lost boy that you feel something splinter within your ribs. how terrifying it is, how something so seemingly simple can destroy satoru in an instance.

you tilt your head back, gently slotting your lips over his in a delicate kiss. there is none of that earlier hunger in the way you kiss him now, merely a softness that makes satoru loosen even if he does not melt yet in your arms.

just as he always is after an orgasm, satoru is pliant as you guide him onto your bed. you kiss him slowly as you take his clothes off, cleaning him of his sweat and drool and cum, before you redress him in a loose t-shirt and a pair of well-loved sweatpants that you had tucked away in your closet just for him.

once the both of you are clean, you situate yourself in bed next to him. your arms come to wrap around satoru where his face is tucked into the crook of your neck, your legs tangled as you hold him close to you. with this proximity, you can feel the way your heartbeat aligns with one another; beating the same rhythm, slow and steady and alive.

he mumbles your name into the silence, looking hesitant and shy all at once. "i'm still your good boy, right?" he asks you, his voice quiet as if he's afraid of the answer.

you swallow past the lump in your throat, distracting the momentary silence by leaning your faces close to each other; foreheads pressed together, noses brushing against each other. "always," you tell him, because it's true. "i'm glad you enjoyed yourself, baby."

and then, and only then, does satoru allow himself to go lax as if he finally believes you. he sinks into the warmth of your embrace, his eyes sliding shut at long last when you press a kiss to the side of his head and tuck him close to you.

because—

because there's a delicate line you have to toe when you're dealing with one gojo satoru; too much of something and you will crush him entirely in your hands, too little of something and he will believe that you do not want him anymore. satoru is a delicate game to play, a fragile person beneath all of his strength and glamour who simply yearns for a person to see him and hold him.

this is what it's like to be gojo satoru's weakness; in your hand resides to power to make and break a god, a boy, a lover.

#the ending part does not make sense probably #but it is what it is #gojo satoru x reader #sub gojo satoru #sub jjk #male reader #top reader #dom reader #( thirsts. )

[writingwithcolor]

Any advice for handling race in reincarnation situations?

@swamp-spirit asked:

I'm writing a story that includes characters being reincarnated with completely different appearances. It's a fantasy world, and most of the characters are being reborn in the same region, but I still want a range of skin tones and features in the main cast (this is a comic). I have weird feelings about a character being 'reborn' with notably lighter or darker skin, but it also feels implausible and lazy for people to Just Happen to have a similar appearance when the theology of the story doesn't support it. Characters being reborn, and taking out things specific to real life groups, what are the major things you'd want an author to read up on or take into account? (Note: there is not a 'white' looking ethnic group in this story)

I don’t think it’s a problem as long as the skin tones don’t have any correlation to the circumstances that they’re reincarnated into.

- SK

It’s an interesting question, because in most religions where reincarnation/ transmigration of the soul is a feature of “what happens after death”, remembering one’s past life is not really part of the package deal. From what you’ve written, it’s not clear to me where the “memory” of these characters’ lives are held. Is there a 3rd person omniscient narrator telling the audience who each person is in their next life or do the characters themselves retain memory of past lives?

Assuming this is your typical reincarnation scenario where characters retain no memory of previous lives, it doesn’t much matter. The next life is the next life. Who a person was in their previous life and that identity, in theory, means nothing to them. This also means whatever personality, values, experiences and so on they had in their previous life no longer has meaning. They are, in effect, another person. However, you say you feel awkward about the above which makes me wonder if characters are remembering past lives, in which case…

If you study pretty much any major Asian religion where reincarnation is a part of the belief system, having no memory of the previous life is par for the course. In present-day religions like Jainism, Sikhism, Hinduism and Buddhism, only “special” (I’m using the term very casually here) entities like bodhisattvas, guru, arihant, buddhas, etc. usually get to keep their memories, while the rest of us (literal) mere mortals are supposed to lose our memories between lives as a part of Samsara. In Hinduism, even the gods often forget their previous lives, unless their reincarnation had a targeted purpose (Like being born to defeat an evil entity). 

For most people, it is only through prayer, devotion, meditation and accumulated virtuous/ good/ compassionate deeds that humans are thought to deepen their understanding of the nature of the universe, and thus have the capacity to remember past lives (I’m, again, paraphrasing very loosely here from several years worth of university history+religion courses).  

This is why the isekai genre in Japan is largely regarded as a “cheat”/ parody genre of fantasy. The protagonist, according to common Japanese cultural beliefs, which are quite heavily grounded in Buddhism, is definitively “cheating.” Not to get too ironically biblical, the character’s success often comes from the forbidden knowledge borne of their previous life. 

Thus, there are two ways I look at your characters’ predicaments: 

It’s not technically reincarnation - not by the way most major world religions define reincarnation, anyway. You have people who died now inhabiting other bodies, but that’s not the same as the transmigration of the soul. Also, you want to delve into the weirdness (and maybe heaviness) of “Wow, I went to sleep with one face and woke up with another.” There are certainly stories about people who have had dramatic cosmetic plastic surgery, weight loss surgery, HRT, etc. and then experienced the difference in the “before” versus “after” of how their altered physical appearance makes them feel, as well as how other people treat them. Even if the community your characters are born into now differs from their previous community (Which I guess would make this more a “I traveled between dimensions, and my appearance altered in the process” sci-fi adjacent affair), their new life will still have social environments with differing attitudes towards human physical appearance that will affect your characters’ emotional states. 

Isekai it up and play with the ridiculous contradiction of having past lives and differing memories of one’s appearance. Isekai manga, manhwa and webtoons all make use of this trope heavily, especially with protagonists who experience a “glow-up” (Ex. Going from a Plain Jane OL to beautiful fantasy heroine) or, by contrast, protagonists who end up in very different forms from their original lives (Tensura, I’m a Spider, So What?). I’d be creative and go even more granular. Being able to tan after a lifetime of getting sunburns or no longer needing glasses might be nice, but what if the new body lacks the enzymes to process dairy or alcohol? What about dealing with differences in hair texture? Skincare routines? What about living life as a very tall person after being quite short or vice versa? What if you bumped into an acquaintance from your previous life, and one of you clearly got a more “coveted” reincarnation?  See how far of an extreme you can take this idea until it feels too uncomfortable or ridiculous. 

Marika.

#reincarnation #skin #skin tone #worldbuilding #religions #characters #ask #isekai #writeblr

[mrsriddles-blog]

Mania | T.N

Pairing: Theodore Nott X Slytherin Fem Reader

WC: 5.5k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, slow-burn, drugs...

Summary: In which you are Theodore Nott's mania...

“Mattheo Riddle…Tom Riddle and Y/n Riddle…hm, I believe this is the first time I’ve had all three Riddle’s in my class this year at once. It’s good of you to finally show up for your lessons, triplets.” Professor Umbridge says.

“We are more than happy to grace you with our presence.” Mattheo says cheekily.

“I don’t believe I asked for your input.” She says, looking over him once.

“I don’t believe we asked for yours.” Mattheo says.

“Matt.” Tom warns quietly.

“That’s it, detention! All three of you.” She snaps. 

“I didn’t say anything! I was trying to shut him up!” Tom snaps annoyed.

“Mr. Riddle, would you like to make that two days of detention?” She asks.

Tom clenches his jaw, glowering at her as he chooses silence. His gaze slips over to Mattheo who smiles lazily at him. You were already working on your assignment from her. You pause, feeling a presence near you as a shadow casts over your parchment. 

“I’m surprised you’ve got nothing to say Ms. Riddle.” She says. 

You slowly look up, looking at her blankly. She smiles as if she were delighted that you had no reaction, nor no words. She reaches out, grabs your wrist and looks at the scars on your hand from her punishment. 

“If only you Riddle’s could learn to behave.” She tsks.

“She hasn’t even said anything!” Draco defends.

“Malfoy, would you also like to join the Riddle’s in detention?” She asks and he stays silent.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably as the air shifted. You pull your wrist free from her, immediately wringing your hands together as Mattheo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You need to calm down. Everyone is feeling your magic.” He mutters. 

That didn’t help your case. In fact, it made you feel more anxious, so you stood and packed up your stuff before leaving the classroom quickly. You knew you were going to be in loads of trouble because of your father, but it didn’t quite matter to you. 

“Skipping Umbridge’s class, too?” Theodore asks, standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower, smoking.   

“My magic started to get the best of me. It made the room get that uncomfortable feel and I couldn’t control it, so I left. And I got detention for Mattheo’s smart mouth.” You mumble, standing next to him.

“Sounds like Mattheo, but Umbridge also holds a grudge against you and your brothers simply for who your father is.” He says. 

“I know, but it’s exhausting. We share one last name, and suddenly I’m hated and feared. I may share the same views, but I don’t agree with the way things have been handled.” You sigh.

You relax as he throws his arm over your shoulder. You allow yourself to lean into his warmth more, the chilly air beginning to affect you. 

You always found yourself comfortable in Theodore’s presence. Yes, he was the dark, gloomy, brooding bad boy everyone warns you away from, but you found solace in his presence. Unbeknownst to you, you were the sunshine in Theodore’s life. Anytime you walked in a room, those gloomy looming clouds parted and allowed him to bask in your light. 

Theodore was quiet, understanding, methodical, logical, and calm. His presence soothed you more than you’d like to admit. You were quiet, but one wrong word being said could set your fiery tongue ablaze. No one could ever reign you back, no one, but Theodore Nott. The moment he’d whisper in your ear or rest a hand on the small of your back always sent you quiet. It was like a wave of tranquility washing over you. 

“Y/n! What were you thinking? Now you're going to be kept longer.” Mattheo hissed as he stormed into the room with your friends and Tom not far behind.

“I needed to leave. My magic was making you all uncomfortable and it didn’t help with you telling me to calm down. I knew I needed to calm down, I don’t need you adding to that stress.” You say, pulling free from Theodore’s comfortable hold as you step towards your seething brother.

“We don’t have the time for this nonsense! Father has given us our respected duties.” He snaps, pointing a finger at you.

“Nonsense? Are you trying to twist the blame on me once more? We are in this mess because you’ve got no self-control! And father can take those duties and shove them up his ass!” You exclaim, the room buzzing with your magic.

Mattheo feels a shock in the air between the two of you, causing him to take several steps back. You were the only one to develop magic like this which happened to be otherworldly. It was known to be chaos magic, something that didn’t have much research behind it. 

“You can’t say things like that! He’ll find out!” He snaps.

“Let him. I’m tired of us hiding behind him like cowards!” You snap.

Your eyes flickered to a glowing green, something they hadn’t ever done before as you began to levitate slightly—another thing you hadn’t ever done.

Your father loved and hated your magic. He loved that it was his child who possessed such rare and unique abilities. But, he hated it because it meant you were stronger than him. So, anytime your magic began to go haywire because of your emotions, he’d be quick to lock you away so you could reign it in. You’ve never gotten a chance to experiment with your powers to see what you were capable of. 

“Y/n/n, you need to calm down.” Mattheo warns, putting his hands up in surrender.

Your heart aches seeing the fear in his eyes. You see his hand inching to his wand and your lip trembles, tilting your head slightly as your eyes well with tears. You glance around the room to see your friends inching behind your brothers, fear on their faces. Tom steps up next to Mattheo, nudging him behind him as he shakily points his wand at you. 

“Expelliarmus!” Theodore shouts, standing in front of you. 

He catches Tom’s wand, glaring at the group. 

“She is your bloody sister! Our friends! She wouldn’t hurt you even if she wanted to! Can’t you see you both are hurting her! In fact, all of you are.” He snaps. 

Your feet touch the ground as your eyes flicker back to normal. Theodore turns to you. He steps forward, but you step back as you slowly shake your head. 

“P-Please don’t…I d-don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper.

“You won’t hurt me, love. Come here.” He murmurs.

You don’t move as he slowly steps towards you like you were a timid doe. His arms wrap around you, his hand cradling your head as he inhales deeply as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your arms slowly wind around his waist, your hands shaking. 

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You whisper.

“Darling, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. You’ve never gotten the chance to know your magic and we know that. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” He murmurs. 

You were quiet, your shaky hands fisting the back of his shirt. He kisses your clothed shoulder, ignorant to your brothers’ anger towards him touching you. But, they knew that you were upset with them now. It was Theodore out of your friends and brothers who defended you. 

You slowly pull away, stepping back. 

“I wanna leave, Teddy.” You whisper.

“Come on, love.” He murmurs, gently grabbing your hand as he shields you from your brothers and friends as he guides you elsewhere.

“Where is she, Nott? She is our bloody sister.” Tom seethes.

“You guys really don’t see what you guys did to her, do you?” He asks, laughing sarcastically as your friend group quiets, 

“What?” Mattheo asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, she is a Riddle. But, she is by far the most empathetic, caring, and loving one of you all. She hides it well, yes, and when you all acted as if she were some…monster, you hurt her. You broke one of the most compassionate, loving, and caring hearts you could break. She loves each and every one of you deeply. You all are her family, yet you all had to be fools. She doesn’t know what she is capable of. She feels as if it’s a curse. I think it makes her unique and that she could do some amazing things if she were allowed to test her powers out. You all owe her an apology. Even then, I don’t think it’ll be enough. She is so scared of hurting somebody. Dumbledore is now aware of her magic as she has locked herself away in her room and won’t come out. He’s been trying to help her understand it while getting her work for her classes.” Theodore explains, his cheeks flushed red with anger.

It was silent amongst the friends and her brothers. He stood there a moment before leaving to let them let that settle. Maybe they’ll feel guilty, or maybe they’ll feel nothing. But, it deserved to be said. 

“Y/n/n?” Theodore asks, surprised.

“I decided hiding away wasn’t doing me any good. It just allowed me more time to overthink. I’m going to try going to all my classes today.” You say softly.

You were sitting on the windows ledge, kicking your feet back and forth. It did make Theodore’s heart rate pick up, because one wrong move, you’d be plummeting to the ground. 

“I’ll be fine, Teddy.” You say softly.

“Huh?” He asks.

“I learned I can read minds and memories with my magic.” You say.

He smiles, happy to see you growing more comfortable with your abilities now that it’s no secret with the Headmaster who was more than happy to help you learn what abilities you possessed and what you could do. 

You climb off the ledge, walking to Theodore before the two of you made it your guys’ first class. You take a seat, ignoring Umbridge’s prying eyes. 

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Riddle. I honestly hoped you had left Hogwarts.” She said. 

You chose silence, focusing on the board. You had always lived in silence before, so why change that now? It wouldn’t get you anywhere. Simply glancing into her mind allowed you to see her next move and you were left unfazed as her hands slammed on your desk as she was in front of you. 

“Answer me, Ms. Riddle. Haven’t you heard it’s impolite to ignore your professors?” She asks.

“Sorry, Professor Umbridge, I’m unsure of what I am answering.” You say.

“Where have you been?” She asks.

“Ill.” You reply shortly.

“You would’ve been fine within a few days. It’s been six weeks.” She snaps.

“If you’d like, you can owl Headmaster Dumbledore. He was a great help as he helped me recover.” You answer.

The doors open and in walk your brothers, but your gaze never leaves Umbridge’s. She scoffs, looking offended and you question what you had done.

“That’s it. Write lines. Write, “I will not give attitude.”” She snaps, throwing the quill a pad of paper on your desk. 

You stare at it, not wanting to write lines. You don’t want the nasty scars it leaves behind. You faintly heard her scolding you and demanding you write lines. 

“What exactly is she writing lines for, Professor, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mattheo asks, trying his hardest to sound polite. 

“Literally nothing.” Theodore mutters from behind you.

“What was that, Mr. Nott?” Umbridge asks. 

“Professor, may I go to the matron? I feel unwell.” You murmur.

“Write your lines first.” She snaps.

You reach a hand out for the quill, trying to suppress the shakiness as you grab it. You take a breath in before letting it out as you begin to write, allowing your magic to inflict it upon her instead of you. 

She gasps, lifting her hand to see the words your writing appear on her hand. She storms over to you, snatching the quill. You roll your eyes up to hers, feigning confusion. 

“What did you do? You insolent brat!” She shouts, shaking her hand to wave out the pain which did nothing.

“Nothing, ma’am. What happened?” You ask. 

The class gets up, you not realizing how much time had passed as they left. Your friends and brothers stayed seated. 

“Leave! Besides you Ms. Riddle.” She seethes. 

“Nope.” Mattheo says, popping the p.

“Crucio!” She shouts. 

You gasp as Tom pushes Mattheo out of the way, taking the hit. He falls to the ground, his jaw clenched. You fall to your knees beside him, your eyes watery. 

“T-Tom? Hold on.” You whisper.

You cry out, fall to your side as her next spell hit you. Sectumsempra. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” Draco shouts.

Your eyes turn green as a wave of green leaves you. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut as you fight for control. 

“Guys! It’s going to be okay. Pansy and Enz ran to get Professor Snape. Blaise and Draco ran for Headmaster Dumbledore. Just…just hold on, please.” Mattheo pleads, take one of your hands, and one of Tom’s.

His eyes were watering, seeing his older brother by minutes and baby sister by minutes in so much pain.

“Tom, you idiot. Why’d you do that? And Y/n/n…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I never meant to do that. I love you so much and I couldn’t have asked for anyone else as a sister. I love you so much.” He says. 

You feel a wave of tiredness wash over you as you continue to lose more blood. Your eyes flutter open, only to close again as you pass out. Tom was trying to sit up, only to be pushed down by Mattheo.

“Stay still.” He scolds.

“Y/n/n…check.” He grits out.

Mattheo turns to you, realizing your hand had gone limp in his. He shakes you urgently as fears of you dying filled his head. You let a little whimper of pain out which allowed him to feel calmer and to stop shaking you. 

“Alright, move away so that we can help them.” Dumbledore says, hurrying in. 

“I c-can’t leave them. They need me.” Mattheo says.

“We got him.” Theodore says quietly.

“Go.” Tom grits out. 

“No! I’m not leaving you both!” He snaps.

Theodore, Blaise, and Enzo somehow managed to drag him out, Pansy and Draco following after in case they needed back-up in getting Mattheo back to the Common Room. 

“You both are weak.” Voldemort says. 

After your “mother”, Bellatrix, received a letter of what happened, a meeting was summoned. Your friends stared down at the table, along with their parents as they felt they were intruding. Tom and you were to stand, looking at him.

“Father, it was my fault.” You say, ignoring Tom’s sharp glare at you.

“Thomas!” Your father warns, in which Tom focuses his eyes back on his father with a clenched jaw.

“Father, please. It was me. She was angry with me and the boys simply stepped in to protect me. It was my fault. Please do not punish Tom or Mattheo. This is all my fault. I deserve to be punished.” You say. 

“Mattheo is the only one whose name didn’t pop up in the letter. He is excused from this. But, Tom and you are not.” He says. 

He points his wand, speaking, “Crucio!”. Your hands flew out, a green ward appearing around Tom as the spell bounced off of it. You used your other hand to hit the spell that now headed towards your father. 

“You dare defy me?” He asks lowly, standing slowly as his eyes seem to turn redder. 

“I said he had no part in this, but you choose to ignore what I had to say!” You snap, your own eyes turning green in anger. 

He falters, his eyes changing to ones of surprise before he raises his wand.

“I would feel terrible about having to kill my own child, but it’s evident you’ve been experimenting with your powers. If you continue to stand up to me and be a threat to me, I’ll have no other option than to kill you.” He speaks. 

“Don’t lie, father. You’d feel absolutely nothing. But, what if I did this? I reverse all your work?” You ask. 

“Don’t you dare!” He shouts. 

You clench your jaw as you flay your arms out as green lights up the room. You watch your father drop his wand as you levitate him. You continue to search his mind for all the objects that were horcruxes before your magic reached out to retrieve it and piece his soul back together. He yells and curses at you, but you aren’t affected. 

The green light disperses as you lower your father who had a sharp jawline, blue eyes that matched Tom and yours. He was tall and lanky, but you could tell it only meant he was toned. His brown hair was carefully styled. He looks at his hands before turning to a mirror and staring at himself. He spins back towards you, storming towards you.

“What the hell did you do to me!” He shouts. 

“You are no longer immortal. You are mortal. I could…however…make you immortal in a different way. But, I’m questioning if you even deserve that respect, father. You’ve treated your children like shit since they could walk. You’ve tortured us. You don’t care, nor love us. You are as much of a monster and a coward as some of the muggle’s I hear about with their children.” You seethe, walking towards him as he slowly backs up. 

“I do love you three! And I care about you! You wouldn’t know a damn thing because you're so naive!” He shouts.

You decide to peek into his mind. You become humbled as some twisted part of him has loved and cared for you…but this new him allows him to express it normally and you can tell he is confused with the feelings. He’s scared. 

“I’m not naive…you’ve done well hiding your true feelings towards us our entire life. Horcrux and disembodied you allowed you to experience love and care, yet those were warped. You had a very screwed up way of showing it. But, this way will allow us to see how you truly feel towards us.” You say, motioning to him. 

“I want to be immortal, Y/n. I have plans I must go through with.” He says. 

You turn, taking a seat and resting your chin on your hand as you look back at him.

“I’d be more than happy to make you immortal again. A spell I made and might I add that it works perfectly, no risks. But, I have one little thing I don’t want to happen. You’ve cowered behind your followers for far too long, father. A true leader leads the war. Not to mention, you have children involved. You’re willing to go to war with innocent children who may lose their lives. They’ve only ever heard what their parents said and they are far too young to even begin to think of what they truly believe. This against you adults. It doesn’t involve us. Nor, the children attending Hogwarts.” You say. 

“You kids are far more talented and excelled.” He says.

“Father…I don’t see the point of this war. You’re a half-blood…which makes Tom, Mattheo and I half-bloods as well. You’re deeming it your right to lead a war for a pure-blood world, but what about us? How does it make it fair?” You ask. 

“Because we aren’t like the other half-bloods and mud-bloods. We are far more powerful than them…smarter than them, stronger than them. Look at you for example. You possess abilities that no one else can. You possess magic that is otherworldly. Tom is much like me who can use wandless magic and see into the minds of even our most challenging opponents. Mattheo, he is much like your guy’s mother—the magical way—as she possessed ancient magic and as does Mattheo. Mattheo and Tom remind me of myself when I was younger just from the way they act. But, you…you remind me so much of your mother.” He says, managing a small smile at me. 

You were unsure what to say, thrown off by what a mood change he just had. You also found yourself wanting to ask him questions of your mother whom you’ve never gotten the chance to meet as she died in childbirth. 

“Meeting will be prolonged for now. You may go to the living room for now. I want a moment with my children.” Your father says. 

People soon filed out of the room, Enzo being the one to close the doors with hesitancy. You shoot a smile his way and nod, seeing that he looked much more relieved to close the doors. Mattheo was still sitting where he had been, but Tom took a seat across from you. 

“What was she like…our mom?” You ask.

“Your mother was…beautiful…you much look like her aside from the eyes. Mattheo got her eyes. Tom, you have her nose and lips. But, most importantly…you all share her big heart and her logical mind. She too didn’t see my views on why I wanted to go to war. She despised it unless I could truly find the reason behind it. There never was a reason besides I wanted a pureblood world. But, her and I…I never knew what love was until your mother. I believed I was incapable of loving or feeling in general until your mother walked up to me with one of her perfect, soft smiles. She was bold, fearless, and so smart. That was the side everyone got to see. But, as she and I grew closer…I got to see how big her heart was for her friends and family, just like yours Y/n/n…and to see how much she cared.” He says, his eyes faraway as he thought of your mother. 

“How were you both after graduating?” You ask.

“We were perfect. We spent the next two or three decades madly in love when I had decided to move forth with my plans. By then, my old friend Abraxas had a little boy, Lucius. I watched my friends have children, but my friends died. It was their children I began to seek forth on the war. As they began to choose to have children, I realized how quiet your mother had gotten. She always watched. I asked about it one day naturally only to learn that she too wanted children. So, we began to try, which didn’t take long till she found out she was pregnant with you three. I would do anything to go back to the day to see that smile.” He says, smiling sadly. 

“If you don’t mind…I could reflect on your memory so we could all see.” You say and he nods. 

Naturally, he had been thinking about the day, so when you tapped his temple, it didn’t take long to find it. Soon, the four of you were quietly staring at your mother. It was a little snippet, her smile that was indeed much like yours, her brown eyes lighted with so much joy and love as she held a pregnancy stick up. 

“I was unaware that your mother had a bleeding disorder. The pregnancy went well and when her water broke, we were ecstatic. I’ll admit I was rather nervous, but she couldn’t wait to get out the door and to the hospital to have you. She was so excited. They did the c-section, she got to hold the three of you. She cried as she said how beautiful you three were. She said you were going to be triple the trouble. She whispered how much she loved you and that one day she’d see you again. I was confused, but she managed to kiss each of your heads before the nurses were taking you away with solemn looks. She knew she was going to die. The entire pregnancy, she knew. She knew she’d die or live. She agreed to one horcrux—me, to live immortally. The other half of her joined me that night when she didn’t make it out of the room.” He says, swallowing hard.

“That’s who I felt when I pieced your soul back together.” You whisper.

“You felt her? I feel her sometimes…used to I could talk to her and she’d speak back. She’s grown silent though and I feared that she was gone.” He admits. 

“She’s there, her soul is growing weaker though. She wasn’t meant to live through you, but her own vessel…I…” You say, trailing off. 

“What?” He asks.

“She has a spell to resurrect the dead as well. She is the child who has dabbled in muggle magic that never went anywhere, but she takes it somewhere. She made the three of us immortal with her immortal spell, feelings intact. She did give us each a way to die if we ever got tired of being immortal. If we decided we wanted to move forth and meet in another life.” Tom explains.

“Your mother use to make spells too…she spent the years we were in Hogwarts and up until you three were born trying to create a spell on immortality. She hated that I had gone through with horcruxes and was sure she’d be able to reverse it and give us a safer option for immortality…yet here you are and you did it sooner than your mother had been able to. You remind me so much of your mother.” He says, looking at you. 

It was silent as you all looked at the memory of your mother who was so joyous finding out she was pregnant. You find yourself thinking she is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.

“I have a question.” Your father says.

“What's up?” Mattheo asks, trying to find a way to be less awkward around your guys’ father. 

“Why does Theodore look at Y/n all the time?” He asks.

You look up confused, your brothers sharing an uncomfortable look as they looked almost defeated. Tom sighs and motions Mattheo on. Mattheo sighs.

“I didn’t tell you, Y/n/n, you just found out, okay? Theodore…he has had a crush or in your words, fancied Y/n/n since first year. He’s always been a bit scared to tell her as he would rather have her as a friend than not have her at all.” Mattheo explains.

You tilt your head in curiosity as you wonder why that never stood out to you. You had always fancied him, but you never assumed he’d feel anything back. 

“I don’t quite know how to explain what it is I’m feeling…like…I love Y/n/n…I want to see her happy, but I don’t know how I feel about a boy fancying her.” Your father says.

“It's when you feel protective over someone. I’m sure you felt it often with mom.” Mattheo explains.

“I did…I was always embarrassed to ask her about the different feelings I would experience.” He admits. 

“I’ll need her bones, some ingredients, but most importantly, I’ll be needing to carefully retract her soul from you dad…this part could hurt.” You say, turning to your father.

“That’s okay.” He admits. 

“Is this it, my lord?” Lucius.

You, as much as you hated it, had a crowd who was rather intrigued by your magic and ability to create spells. You were slightly disturbed with your mothers remains being in the same room as you, but you knew it was necessary. 

“Yes.” He murmurs, walking further into the room and sitting in the chair across from your mothers casket. 

You place the metal bowl between the two as you start to add the ingredients in, you pause turning to your father as you strap him to the chair. He grimaces, realizing he may have misinterpreted how bad this would hurt, but he couldn’t complain. He wanted nothing more than the woman he loved back. 

You raise your hands, having to clench your jaw of your fathers strangled groans and pained grunts as you pull your mothers soul free of him. You lowered it to the bowl, taking a match and lighting the bowl. 

A wave of light fills the room, and you walk to the casket to see your mother there in the flesh and blood. You hear Tom helping your father free of restraints as you hold a hand out for your mother.

“Y/n/n?” She murmurs.

“Y-You recognize me?” You whisper as she fully stands.

“How could I not? You’ve turned out to be such a beautiful young woman…oh Mattheo…Tom, my boys. You three come here.” She whispers. 

The embrace of your mother was something you realized you hadn’t needed so much. Her love, care, and warmth was what filled those missing parts in you—all, but one, but that was Theodore’s spot. 

“You’re so pretty.” You murmur.

“Oh, love. Thank you, but it is you who is the prettiest girl to be seen.” She murmurs. 

She holds you three tight for minutes, before leaving a long kiss on each of your heads before hesitantly letting you go. She looks at your guys’ father with watery eyes. 

“I can’t say I haven’t missed you because I have. But, I still don’t agree with your views and how you’ve treated our children. But, when Y/n/n looked into your mind and pointed out that you had always loved and cared for them, it was just warped…I understood. But, I do believe the horcruxes played an effect. If the kids are okay with it, I’d love for all of us to start a clean slate.” She says. 

Your father nods, his own eyes watery. You turn to look at your brothers to see them looking at you as your parents turn to you three. Mattheo does a little nod, and you turn to Tom. You could see his hesitance, but once he sees your encouraging smile, he does a little nod himself. You turn to your parents, nodding at them. They pull the three of you in a hug.

“What are you doing all alone out here, Teddy?” You ask, wearing a silvery dress that glitters. 

Your makeup and jewelry was dark and green per-usual. He was in a tux, his tie terribly tied as he didn’t know how to. He had a cigarette in his mouth as he takes you in. 

“Everyone is dancing and doing sappy stuff. Your brothers even had dates.” He says quietly. 

You step forward, lifting your hands as you fix his tie. You look into his soft, yet intense eyes and smile.

“Teddy, would you like to dance with me?” You ask.

“R-Really?” He asks surprised.

“I only ask guys I like to dance, Teddy, so…would you?” You ask, holding your hand out to him.

“You like me?” He asks, taking your hand.

“More than you know, Teddy.” You say, smiling softly at him before you were gently dragging him to the dance floor.

A slow song comes on as you both start to sway. You requested this and then a waltz song next before letting the music officiant go back to their list. You saw your father and mother happily dancing as they whispered lovingly to each other. Mattheo was dancing with Astoria as Tom danced with a girl who was a year below you all. You periodically saw your friends amongst the dancing couples as they too danced. 

“Love?” Theodore murmurs.

“Hm?” You hum, your eyes clashing with his.

“You like me in a more than friend way…right?” He asks, his eyes flickering over your shoulder out of nerves.

“That was what I meant, silly. Do you like me in a more than friend way?” You ask.

“Yes! I have for a long time…since first year, but I was just…I was so scared I’d lose you because you didn’t feel that way. I was everywhere…protecting you, and keeping guys away. You infiltrated my mind every waking moment of mine…you are my mania.” He says.

“Oh Teddy, I’ve liked you since first year too. I wish I would’ve said something sooner, but all is okay. We’ve told each other now.” You say, smiling softly.

“Since you were so bold earlier, let me return that…would you be my girlfriend?” He asks.

“Nothing would make me happier, Teddy.” You murmur, leaning up as he leans down to kiss you softly.

“Hey!” Tom, Mattheo and your father shout. 

You both pull apart with soft laughter as you both look over to see them giving you both stern looks, your brothers’ dates trying to get them to leave you alone as your mother reigns your father in. You turn back to Theodore, a soft smile on your face.

“I love you, Teddy.” You murmur.

“I love you too, Y/n/n.” He whispers as the music shifts to waltz music and he groans as you grin mischievously.

It was then that he knew this was your doing, but he smiled goofily as he wouldn’t have this any other way.

#harry potter universe #masterlist #slytherin #hp fandom #angst #theodore nott #slytherin x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #mrsriddles-blogunhinged #mrsriddles-blog #mrsriddles-blogisblogging

[pinguwrites]

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed. 

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers. 

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him. 

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face. 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity. 

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius. 

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once. 

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school. 

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you. 

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you. 

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips. 

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said. 

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate. 

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it. 

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love. 

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain. 

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside. 

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way. 

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice. 

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance. 

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all. 

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard. 

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm.  Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath. 

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised. 

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more. 

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

#pinguwrites #tom buckley #tom buckley x reader #tom buckley x y/n #tom buckley x you #cillian murphy #red lights #fanfiction

[wreckmetoji]

Don’t Call Me Friend

A fic in which you find a cynical man desperately needing medical attention

↳ Millions Knives/Reader

content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, shameless smut, slight fluff, alien genitalia, oral (m!receiving), fingering, creampie, knives has never seen a pussy in his life, probably missing some tags but it’s 8 in the am and im tired

this is a fic trade piece dedicated to @strbrmlk​! Go show them some love, they have lots of Knives content!

minors DNI

8.7k words

The light was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was cataclysmic, swallowing a city whole and whoever dared to remain, and even from so far away the shockwave winded you and made your eyes burn. Bright scorching purple, a light so pure and refined you had half a mind to think it was cast down from heaven itself. A shaky sigh pushed from your lips, shoulders sagging at the weight of the realization the city you were heading to had just been completely leveled, now nothing but a crater.

 Perhaps you would take advantage of the night and keep traveling. Your bones ached, legs begged you to stop and rest, but now there was no refuge. You had to persist. Fuck, how far away was the next city, the voice in the back of your mind nagged as you began packing up your few belongings. You were nearly out of supplies, running dangerously low on water and even worse off for food. It was fine, everything would be fine, you always managed to scrape by no matter how dire or desperate. 

 With a low grumble, you hiked your bag over your shoulders, adjusting the straps before spinning on your heel and making your way back. Only upon glancing over your shoulder one last time, did you see a second impact several yards away. It was smaller, much smaller, and you would have missed it had you not seen the plume of sand that flew into the air as a result. Was it rubble left over from the blast? Had anything managed to survive that? Curiosity got the better of you, sliding down and climbing over dunes hastily to see what had landed so close. Maybe, if you were lucky, it was some intact supplies. Wishful thinking, maybe. 

 Upon reaching whatever- no, whoever- had landed, your hands flew up to your mouth as you gasped. A body, unidentifiable, completely burnt and scorched to a crisp, missing flesh in his arms and face. You inched closer, tiny steps carrying you nearer as you gave him a good glance over. Usually the sight and smell alone would leave you gagging, but you were compelled, maybe they were alive?

 A slow rise and fall of their chest was all you needed, luck be on their side. Not on yours however, considering your survivors guilt would eat you alive if you had just left the poor man, so now not only were you stuck trekking across a barren desert with little to no supplies, you were doing so with a dying man that was in desperate need for medical attention you were most certainly not qualified to execute. Still, you did your best to wrap him in the comfort of your sleeping bag, tactfully tying it up with some spare rope and wrapping around your waist and arms. The chances of him surviving were less than slim, but you would be damned if you didn't at least try to save his life. 

 This conclusion nearly killed you, several times throughout your trek back to the small town you came from did you encounter obstacle after obstacle. Hungry vultures preying on the smell of death, inconspicuous bandits waiting around every rock and dune, and the fact you hadn't had a crumb of food or drop of water the entire way. At some point you must have started hallucinating, because you swear you could see the burnt skin on the stranger's face stretch in some unexpressed emotion when you poured the last droplets of water in his mouth. Regardless, the sight of the town flags waving in the wind was enough to nearly bring you to tears. Glancing back at your injured traveling companion, you huffed out a relieved sigh, whispering, "We'll get you some help, friend. Don't worry."

 As it turned out, medical professionals were just as shocked as you to see someone in such horrible condition to still be living and breathing, and even responsive. Perhaps you weren't hallucinating when you saw him move earlier. 

 It took hours to get him in a bed, wrapped in bandages and gauze, leaving you to sit in the tiny room with him and sweat over the quadruple digit medical bill resting in your hands. No good deed goes unpunished, you thought to yourself, gently sighing and reclining in the bedside chair next to the mysterious man. You had money, sure, maybe enough to put a down payment and work the rest off over the next couple weeks running odd jobs around the small town. Maybe you could borrow a car and make some money off of supply runs, now that July was destroyed you could imagine They were just as desperate to help as some off-the-map backwash towns. 

 Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, seeing a tenderly gauze wrapped arm shift, attempting to raise up with weak urgency. You stood from your chair, sliding onto your knees beside the bed, resting your hand as tenderly as you could on him. "Hey, it's okay," You called out, to which you could see him tense ever so slightly, "It's okay, you're all patched up. Don't be afraid, you're in good hands. I promise."

 Recovery was speedy, the doctors had mentioned. The mystery man was making amazing progress, and the speed in which his scorched skin was healing was inhuman. What would have taken months, years, if at all, was taking less than weeks. Those weeks you spent working at a local baked goods shop during the day, and a bar at night, keeping you endlessly busy and then some. Still, though, you would find time at the end of every shift to slip by the medical clinic in which the mystery traveler was stationed at, sitting with him for a bit and talking. It was odd, you noted, telling someone so much about yourself, the things you're interested in, all the way from your name to your favorite book you've managed to forage out of the odd pawn shop. It was odd having someone know so much about you, and you didn't even know what they looked like, who they were, how they sounded. 

 Still, you liked to think he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his, even if he couldn't say anything. 

 The day you could no longer keep up with the payments for his care was the day the weight on your shoulders tripled. The nurses were empathetic, stressing over the steps you would need to take if you were to do it yourself, but emphasized the clinic wasn't a charity. Only slightly concerned one of the nurses mentioned he did have to be sedated nearly every time they changed his bandages, or he would put up too much of a fight, how the hell were you going to get sedatives? In all, you understood, and part of you knew this would be where you ended up, considering two minimum wage jobs could only get you so far. At least now instead of exorbitant medical fees, you could house him with you in your shitty little rental. Now you could see him more often too, you just hoped that his bandages would be fine through the day, or maybe you would have to start taking your lunch breaks to come home and tend to him. He was your responsibility, after all, and you had made peace with that. 

 Honestly, you were expecting the first day to be the worst. You stood from your kneeling position beside your bed in which the man was currently occupying, taking a deep breath and mentally going over all your steps on top of he puts up a fuss, don't be surprised. The second your hand made contact with his covered shoulder, he flinched, and you mimicked the reaction, squeaking a quiet, "Sorry! I should have said I was going to touch you." You sighed again, resting the supplies on the bed. "I've never done this before, so... Please be patient with me. I'm just trying to help, friend."

 Unsure if maybe it was a familiar voice, or your reassuring words, but he definitely wasn't a nightmare like the nurses mentioned he would be. You unwrapped, washed, put on the required prescription ointment, and then re-wrapped both of his arms, quickly moving to his head. Your fingers hesitated, hands hovering over his neck for a moment. You could still see his scorched face, the missing skin, and showing bone. Still, it had to be done. After steeling yourself, and verbalizing where you were going to be touching next, you began to work the bandages from around his neck, then his jawline, slowly revealing him to you. 

 It was a sight you didn't think you could have ever prepared yourself for. You'd been told he was making a speedy recovery, not a freakishly inhuman recovery, but the skin on his face had nearly completely healed over. The skin was fresh and stretched and definitely not an accurate representation of the man he once was, and the voice in the back of your head silently wondered if it would scar like that, but his eyes. You couldn't stop the quiet gasp that left your mouth as your hands dropped, his right eye being revealed to you. Despite the wounds, the scaring, he was beautiful, even as he fixed you with a confused glare. "Oh," You found yourself saying, cheeks ruddy and thoughts scrambled at the way he stared at you, "S-Sorry, I just- I wasn't expecting..."

 Unable to finish your sentence, your hand reached up instinctively to touch at the healed patch of skin at his jaw. Turquoise gaze shot down, hand flying up to intercept your course of action, snatching at your wrist in a tight hold. You couldn't will yourself to be shocked, or scared at the amount of strength behind his grip, only staring at his exposed eye with silent wonder. Finally, you whispered, "Sorry... You're just... Your eyes are very beautiful. Please let me change the rest of your bandages?" To your surprise, he did, his eyes glancing out the window as you removed and replaced his bandaging. When you asked if he would prefer to have the bandages off or over his eyes, he didn't reply, only continuing his hardened forlorn gaze out into the streets below. So, you decided for him, leaving his eyes uncovered. It was a hardened decision to leave him a stack of bandages to change whatever was under the waist and above the thigh, not wanting to impede on his privacy more than you already had.

 After you finished up, you sighed, standing and cracking your back. "I have to go to work now, bills don't pay themselves. There's some pre-made meals in the fridge, and some bottled water as well," You smiled at him, his gaze refusing to meet yours. You took note of the slightly disgusted scrunch of his face, your lips curling in a sad, empathetic smile. "Please... Make yourself at home. What's mine is yours." You gathered up the used bandages, throwing them away, shuffling about for a bit, before leaving for your day.

 When you came back on your lunch break, you took note that he hadn't eaten anything. You would have found it odd, if not for everything else that surrounded him in his shroud of mystery.

 Life continued like this, and even if you were working yourself to the bone and absolutely exhausted at the end of every day, you found satisfaction in the recovery of your anonymous guest at your hand. It was enough to keep you going, knowing someone needed you. Even if sometimes you caught his frustrated glares, or looks of disgust out of the corner of your eye, you found it hard to take them personally. You wouldn't exactly be thrilled to be in his position, and accepting help was difficult for some people. Nevertheless, every scowl and glower he gave you was met with that same sympathetic smile, brows upturned, radiating nothing but unending kindness and compassion. You couldn't pinpoint when, unsure exactly how it came to be, but his dirty looks became less and less, slowly being replaced by what could be misconstrued as disinterest, but there was something else. Curiosity, maybe?

 "Okay," You called over your shoulder, sliding your shoes on at your front door, "I'm headed to work now! I'll be home a bit later than usual, I need to pick up groceries, so if there's anything you want I- I..." You patted down your pockets, brows furrowing at the realization you had misplaced your wallet at some point in your rush to get ready. 

 "Here," A baritone called out from behind you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

 You shrieked, whipping around with your hands up and out, as if you had any grace or tact to defend yourself against a potential intruder. Instead, you were met with a broad bandaged chest, eyes glancing up slightly to see that same look of indifference with something. What came out of your mouth was more a puff of air than a laugh, disbelief convincing you that you had just heard things considering up until now you had assumed he was mute. 

 "Th....thank you," You muttered, gingerly plucking your wallet from the palm of his bandaged hand. Meeting your eyes for just a moment too long, you found yourself searching. Searching for that unnamed emotion you saw whenever he looked out the window, or when you caught him watching you eat your food out of your peripherals, or whenever you gave him your understanding, endlessly kind smile. His abhorrence was apparent, before he turned around and headed back to your room. 

 Most of your day was spent thinking about your auditory hallucination, or at least that's what you chalked it up to be. It was deep, authoritative, and had a chill running down your spine. It also really couldn't have been anything else, and you had thoroughly gaslit yourself into believing you were crazy until you heard him speak a few days later.

 The stress of having two mouths to feed was quickly smothered upon realizing the man you had taken in didn't require food to survive. You wondered just what kind of being he was if not human, and the words fallen angel briefly passed through your mind. There was no such thing, and the thought alone was silly in itself. Still, it never stopped you from wondering just what you had gotten yourself into. Distracted thoughts wandered, resulting in you slicing at the tip of your finger as you prepared your dinner. You yelped, quickly sticking your index finger in your mouth purely on reflex. 

 "Stupid creature," Came that same baritone, your gaze shooting up and meeting the hardened gaze of your guest. Your mouth fell open, blinking stupidly at him, before your brain caught up to what he was saying. All you did was laugh, pathetically, and nod your head.

 "Yeah, it was a stupid mistake, wasn't it?"

 He seemed taken aback by this, downcast brows raising slightly as he watched you rinse out your cut, but not take the time to patch yourself up. You simply went back about your business making food, avoiding using your injured finger as you continued. He scoffed, which garnered your attention for a second time, your gaze coming back up only to see him turning on his heel and walking back to your bedroom.

 After dinner, you gently knocked on the bedroom door, slowly emerging with an armful of supplies. Unsurprisingly, he was on the bed as he usually was, looking out the window. Pattering your way over, you dumped the supplies beside him on the bed, kneeling on the floor to sort through everything, noting the fact he was already sticking his arm out for you to begin your work. This had been your routine for weeks, but even after all this time he never once willingly complied. The sight made you smile, a small laugh escaping your lips as you unwrapped him, put on the cream, then re-wrapped him. 

 "You're making fantastic progress, I'd say you probably won't have to wear so many bandages anymore after this week," You mused, working on the bandages on his chest next. "It's crazy, your hair is growing insanely fast, your skin is basically as good as new-"

 "Why do you persist?"

 The question caught you off guard, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but the deep rumble of him rattled your body. You paused, unable to answer right away. "Because... I saw someone out in the middle of nowhere gravely injured. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I just left you there."

 "So you pity me? You think you're superior, and this is for your own satisfaction?" 

 Despite the venom tainting his voice, you couldn't help but smile, shaking your head as you applied more cream to him. "No, absolutely not. I don't think I'm better than anybody. I saw someone hurting, and I know how it feels to have people turn a blind eye when one is in need of help." Your eyes glanced up, a lump in your throat forming when you caught him gazing down at you. "Humanity is... lost, I think. Everyone is caught up in themselves and their wealth and their own general wellbeing, we forget to take care of the people and things around us. We forget that we can't just take, and there has to be some give. So this is me trying to be a giver in a world full of takers, I guess."

 "It's pointless. You're insignificant." He scoffed, lifting his arms as you worked your way down. 

 "Yeah, maybe. Maybe I'm never going to amount to anything, and I'll have spent my life trying to make up for humanity's shortcomings and regret it later on, but I'm willing to accept that when the time comes. For now, I'd just like to help you get back up on your feet," You emphasized your words by tying a little knot in the gauze, holding it into place. Standing, you reached for his neck, your hand being intercepted for not the first time. He held it there, not as hard, but there was a threatening aura if you disobeyed his silent request. You stood, quietly, nodding for him to say his unspoken words.

 "You didn't bandage your hand earlier," It was more a statement than a question, but you understood the connotation behind it regardless. 

 With a shrug, and a smile, you braved through the threat and pushed your hand forwards, unwrapping him. He let you, surprisingly, with an unreadable expression. "I would much rather have all the supplies I need to take care of people that need help more than me. It's just a small cut, after all." He was quiet, watchful eyes peering at you as you unwrapped his now growing tufts of platinum blond hair. It was coming through smooth, even, as if he hadn't been scarred from head to toe in burns. "Besides," You continued, decidedly leaving the bandages off his head, "Why would I waste perfectly good supplies on someone insignificant?"

 Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting your self deprecating answer, or throwing his description of you back at him, but he seemed genuinely surprised. You didn't take the time to enjoy it, simply flashing him another smile before gathering up the used bandages and supplies and leaving him to his solitude he seemed to enjoy. 

 In the following days, he became a bit more chatty. At first you only noticed his presence, hovering around you in your general space, and part of you wanted to laugh at how similarly he behaved to a cat. The second you would acknowledge him, or glance in his general direction, he would leave the area, as if he didn't want you to perceive the fact he seemed to be curious about you and what you were doing. It was cute, despite the dangerous aura he seemed to exude sometimes, and you found yourself looking forward to just being able to exist in the same space as him. Once he managed to warm up to the fact you didn't seem to want or expect anything out of him, he became more obvious in your space, offering a roll of his eyes as you spoke to him about nothing at all in particular. Sometimes it was your day, your coworkers, something interesting you saw at the market. You never asked anything of him though, not even his name. He had given you a stern look one morning, asking why you never wanted information out of him. I'd like to think if you want to tell me something, you'll tell me when you want to, you said softly, who am I to make demands and take what I want from anyone?

 He never really had much to say when you answered his questions, but you could always sense the surprise. The realization came to you quickly, the side eye he would give you when you smiled at his otherwise hurtful comments or cynical view on you and your species speaking volumes. It was like he had already formed an opinion of who you were, a predisposition to fall into simple categories of "good", and "bad", with humanity, including you, falling into "bad". Nevertheless, you continued to surprise him, constantly going out of your way to make him a priority, put his comfort above yours to the point where you had been damned to sleep on your lumpy, three-times thrifted couch. Never once did you complain about the crick in your neck, or your sore shoulder, or the tweak in your back that made you wince when you knelt down to change his dressings. You were doing this of your own volition, after all, simply happy to help someone that was obviously deeply wounded by people before you.

 The day you came back dirty and defeated and worse for wear was the day something significant change in him. 

 Pushing through your apartment doors as normal, you saw him sitting on your couch, brows furrowing at the state of you. Your face was dirty, palms and forearms scraped and bloody, a small cut on your cheek and matching cuts in your work clothes. Despite your appearance, you greeted him with a weak smile. "I'm sorry," You huffed, setting a paper bag on the counter, walking over to the kitchen and washing up your hands, "Let's go change your bandages quick."

 Leaving no room for argument, not that you were sure he would do that anyways, you gathered up the necessary supplies and crouched in front of him on the floor. Trying desperately, but failing, you winced as you gloved your scraped palms, and this time finding yourself unable or willing to meet his gaze, You could feel him watching you, calculating your every movement. You had finished up quickly, now that he was more man and less bandage it was an easier process. Finishing up, you gathered all the used supplies in a pile, tossing it into the garbage. Looping back around the couch, you took a final look at him before nodding, a forced smile through pursed lips. "Alright, I'll get dinner start-"

 An iron grip encased your wrist as you began walking back around the couch, holding you firmly in place. You winced again, his fingers encasing a particularly nasty scrape. You didn't resist though, simply staring at him with a confused expression while he stood from his sitting position. He dwarfed you completely, despite the lack of exercise and movement he was still built and arguably massive, so you found yourself staring in awe whenever you were in relatively close proximity. 

 "Clean yourself up. It's an eyesore." 

 Perhaps his words stung more than they should have, but you sighed, nodding slowly. He released your wrist, letting you walk to your room to grab a change of clothes. Unlike his previous mannerism, existing in your general space without getting too close, this time he was hot on your heels, directly behind you the entire time. Plucking up some comfy pants and a loose shirt, along with a towel, you trudged your way over to the bathroom. Once you reached the door, you went to close it, eyeing him suspiciously as he stood in place with his arms crossed just past the threshold. Closing the door with a click, you stripped, turning the taps on and hopping in. Feeling the tears well up that you had been staving off were harder and harder to fight back, deep in and out breaths only helping so much before the cloud over your head began to storm. Before you could let it consume you, you washed yourself up, dried yourself off, and got changed, deciding distracting yourself would be better than wallowing in self pity at the loss of your wallet, groceries, and dignity. 

 Upon opening the door, your guest was still firmly stood in place, completely unmoved from his last position you saw him in. You stared back, taking a small step forward and hoping he would get out of your way. His eyes were watchful, knowing, and the way they peered down at your scrapes and bruises, then came back up to your eyes was enough to tell you what he wanted from you, and that he had no intention of getting out of your way until then. 

 You didn't know why, you didn't know why that was what broke the dam, why the smallest glance had tears pooling in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You stood there, staring at each other as tears bubbled past your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks, until a soft sob left your lips. Hanging your head, you watched your tears hit the tile of the bathroom floor. Perhaps because you were clouded with stress and regret, you could justify taking a step forward. Perhaps, because you have been trying so hard for so long, you just needed someone to tell you that you were doing a good job, you could justify resting your forehead on his chest, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist. For the first time in the months you had known him, you took, and you felt a deep guilt about it.

 "I'm sorry," You whispered into him, closing your eyes as you went to pull back. A hand at the back of your head stopped you, pulling you back into your weak, one sided embrace. Despite the fact he didn't rest his arm around you, despite the fact all he did was put a hand in your hair, you found yourself tearing at the seams, coming undone and sobbing against him. 

 After a couple minutes, your shoulders stopped quaking, your sniffles began to subside, and you heard that deep voice in the crevice of his chest speak. 

 "Finish cleaning yourself up," His voice was low and assertive, to which you let out a small saccharine laugh, nodding your head against his chest. 

 "Okay. Thank you, friend," You slowly took a step back, looking up at his firm expression. Brows upturned, you offered your signature bittersweet smile, still teary eyed and ruddy cheeked as you wiped your face. His expression fell, lips downturned at your harmless name for him. It was visible, the cogs turning in his head as his eyes watched you brush the tears from your face, glance down at your pouty lips and wet jaw, then back up to your eyes. 

 "Nai."

 "P... Pardon?" You paused, watching him take a step towards you. 

 "Call me Nai," He took another step forwards, crowding you in his space against the bathroom counter. You found yourself bending back a bit, eyes wide and glassy as you watched him lean into you.

 "N-Nai," You repeated back to him, watching his eyes search you again. This time it was more frantic, his mouth hanging open, obvious distress on his face until he was nearly nose to nose with you.

 "Again."

 "Nai... What are- mmf-" 

 All it took was a blink. You blinked, and his lips were crushed up against yours in a searing kiss. It was desperate, needy, forceful, expressing every emotion he had kept bottled up in the back of his mind. White knuckle gripping the edge of your bathroom counter, you leaned back even more, spine bent over the surface at an uncomfortable angle. You tried pulling back, tried to ask him what he was doing and if he was okay, only for a hand to come up and firmly grip your jaw, holding you in place. The hand on your face squeezed, prying open your mouth with ease, his tongue licking into your open mouth before pressing his tongue against yours. Just as you let your eyes shut, just as you began to press back up into him, he ripped away, taking a stride back. Panting and delirious, you blinked through your daze, seeing the disgusted scrunch of his nose and downturned brows as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 Flinging the partially closed door open, Nai stormed out in a heated rush, leaving the door to hit the wall and bounce nearly to a close again. All you could do was stare at the empty space where he was once standing, your mind having to work double time to catch up with everything that happened. Taking a deep, shaky breath, your fingertips ghosted across your lips in stunned silence. He looked so desperate, so hurt, and more than anything your heart ached at the expression that had graced his smooth, angelic features when you had spoken his name to him. Completely torn, unable to weigh the pros and cons of simply just leaving him be, or being at his side, you decided against your better judgement and slowly exited the bathroom. Your hair was still wet, cold droplets penetrating the thin fabric of your night shirt. Steeling yourself, you pushed through the threshold of your bedroom, only to see the tall man ripping off the bandages on his arms and chest. You sprung into action immediately, concerned for his healing process.

 "Nai, stop that-" 

 "Do not!" He yelled, turning around and facing you. His eyes were wide, stress evident on his face due to his inner turmoil. When you swallowed, taking another step forward with an outstretched hand, he snarled, clenching his jaw. 

 "Please, Nai, let me fix your bandages-"

 "Why do you persist?!" He asked for a second time, "You are a disgusting, unworthy creature. You are insignificant and meaningless! You have no right being so similar to him!" Insult after insult, he stepped closer, never lowering his voice, "Your kind are repulsive, you do nothing but take, nothing but steal, nothing but hurt."

 The fact you only pursed your lips, unmoving in front of him, seemed to escalate his fury. 

 "What makes you so different?" He growled, impeding on your space for a second time this evening, the malicious aura surrounding him different as his hand shot up, clasping around your throat and fingers digging into your jaw. Still, you did not move, only wincing when he tilted your head back at an angle stressful on your weary muscles.

 Your docile, unintimidated nature broke down his walls, his grip wavering, before loosening completely. He kept his hand in place, his chest heaving from his one-sided outburst. Quiet, much more quiet than he had been, he whispered, "Why are you so different?"

 Slowly, as not to shock him, you raised a hand, eyes downcast at a portion of his arm that was scratched and bloody, most likely from his frantic half attempted escape out of his dressings. You were careful, wrapping the ripped dangling bandage around that spot, lifting your other hand to tie it off. Grip slipping, his hand slowly slid down the column of your throat, the heel of his palm resting on your collar bone while his fingers brushed your pulse points. He was impossibly close again, but this time there was no distress. There was no urgency. Only disbelief, and that familiar inkling of something else you had gotten used to finding in his eyes.

 "I understand," You breathed, taking his sagging shoulders as an okay to keep going, "I understand that... People are cruel, and evil- I know. I encounter it every day. I know. It's tragic, and horrible, and that's why I try so hard to make up for others' shortcomings. I try my best to be the good I want to see in this world."

 Turquoise eyes watched your hands continue tying off frayed ends, watched your lips purse and eyes grow glassy at the state of him, and he huffed a sardonic laugh. "It's pointless."

 "I know. But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop trying."

 Only met with silence, you scanned his expression, seeing that same bewilderment you were met with nearly every time you surpassed his expectations. It made you smile your signature smile, a small puff of amused air leaving your lips as his fingers twitched against your skin, enclosing the base of your throat in a loose grip. There you stood in silence with him, letting him mull over whatever he needed to sort through internally, you would be patient in letting him take his time. Gaining trust was never an easy process. He noticed this, brows furrowing as your hand came up and gently caressed the rough tattered fabric clinging to his arms. He swallowed, and just as you opened your mouth to ask if he wanted you to fix it for him, he was barking a quick order.

 "Get on the bed."

 Instantly you were bashful, cheeks heating up in a vibrant blush, ears warm and expression puzzled. Still, you listened, watching his hand fall from your neck before stepping over to the bed. You crawled on, settling yourself in the center of the mattress before spinning around and facing him, folding your hands in your lap as you awaited his next request. You never ended up receiving one, simply shuffling up closer to the pillows as he climbed on with you. Once again, he was caging you in, eyes searching you for any dishonesty, as if he still had his doubts about you but was unsure how to prove you wrong when you were so irrevocably good. His interest seemed to outweigh his suspicion, or maybe there was something else that had him gravitating towards your melancholic, teary eyed optimism. Perhaps that him he had mentioned was not so different from yourself. 

 Unsure what to expect, you simply blinked at him, slowly leaning back on your forearms, before laying down, his body unmoving as he watched you shifted your weight to lay on your side. Your eyes stared out the window towards the starry night sky, listening to the rustling of fabric sheets, before the mattress was sinking lower behind you. The sudden shift in weight had you pressed back against him feeling an arm come around, elbow resting on your waist, forearm tucked around your waist and hand dipped under your side, you inhaled sharply, tensing slightly. His uncertainty and back and forth had you confused, unsure exactly what he wanted to do or what he thought of you, but the closeness and physical touch had your throat growing tight and those familiar tears welling up.

 "Nai... What are you doing?" You asked, barely above a whisper, unsure exactly what his intentions were with you at this point. Only met with silence for a short while, you closed your eyes, soaking in his warmth- because God was he warm- appreciatively. 

 "This helped my brother when we were young." 

 Understanding he probably wasn't going to elaborate further, you simply huffed a small, weak laugh at the insinuation he was treating you like a child, but you were grateful nonetheless. You weren't expecting him to have the capacity or compulsion to help you, considering many occasions had come up in the weeks you knew him where you had been in a position of needing help and he would only watch scornfully with crossed arms. A cheeky smile cracked your features, daring to turn your head and glance back at him at the risk you would be pushing him away. You were going to say something about him treating you like a child, but your smile fell the second you saw the expression on his face. His brows were downturned, but he looked tired, a twinge of sadness he poorly masked as irritation.

 "Your brother must have been lucky to have you," You whispered, unsure what else you could have said, unsure if there's anything you could say to take away his pain and sadness. "I know I am."

 There was a spark of recognition, realization, a switch being flipped in the back of his mind you barely managed to catch before he was leaning into you, slotting his lips against yours. You were surprised by him again, but much more accepting to his advances now that you got a brief glance into the window of his mind. He had so much inner turmoil, internalized emotion he masked with anger or irritation or indifference. Pushing into him, only enough to reciprocate, the arm around your waist tightened before turning your body, flipping you on your back. Gasping when your back hit the bed, the old springs below groaned in retaliation as Nai made space for himself between your legs, forcing them apart with flat, firm palms. His short, platinum blond hair illuminated by the moonlight made him seem even more angelic, the pale white light accentuating every dip and crease and crevice of his fit physique laying underneath tattered, torn bandages. You breathed as he leaned down, unable to contain your quiet, "Beautiful..."

 It was difficult for you to comprehend, the languid kiss becoming more tongue, his teeth bared and biting at your lower lip when you pushed back, threatening to invade the space of his mouth. Strong hands came up to the small of your waist, grabbing at you in such a way it made you vividly aware of the fact he was so much bigger than you. He seemed to realize this too, pulling back from your spit ridden kiss to glance down at your much smaller body so pliant in his hands. His brows furrowed, mouth hanging open slightly as he squeezed. It wasn't hard, only enough to make you squeak, his eyes shooting up to glance at you through his light lashes. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and past the swell of your breasts despite your flustered protests. Not even realizing your eyes had clamped shut, you cracked an eye open to glance up at him, surprised to see him transfixed. His hands grabbed, squeezed, brushed, every bit of skin, setting your nerves on end when he always nearly avoided touching the most sensitive parts of you.

 The thought of has he not done this before briefly crossed your mind, but was dismissed when he thumbed over your nipple, eliciting a drawn out whine from your throat. You were half expecting him to have a negative reaction, considering every time you had an innately human reaction to something, he was quick to scrunch his nose and turn away. Instead, he repeated the action, leaning down to shove his tongue in your mouth in the process. It was easy, your gasp and whine allowing him immediate access, and your eyes were rolling back at the feeling of him caressing and squeezing you. Another whine pulled from your throat, this time muffled by his mouth and tongue, you gently placed your hands on his wrists. He tensed, but didn't stop, a silent affirmation that you could keep going. Your hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, arms winding around his neck, nails slowly dragging up the top of his spine. He groaned, squeezing your breasts in his hands, before his hands shot down to your hips, pulling you up and into him to meet the roll of his hips. 

 "Ah! N-Nai!" You gasped, glancing down at the pair of oversized borrowed sweatpants he had donned nearly every day living with you. Never had you been so happy to own a piece of clothing from an ex, and the satisfaction of watching your house guest fill them out much better was a treat in itself.

 "Again," He demanded, watching your expression scrunch and release as he rolled his hips into you again.

 "Nai," You breathed, throwing your head back against the pillows, nails digging further into his back. The noise he emitted was animalistic, grip wavering on your hips. You heard a rip, eyes shooting open and glancing down to see your shorts and underwear in tatters on the bed. It looked as if they had been put through a shredder, and all you could do is stare with absolute bewilderment as to how he had managed that so quick.

 However, you were unable to say anything, now being zoned in on the heave of his chest, or how his eyes locked on the line of your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, wondering if maybe something was wrong, if maybe he thought you looked weird, or gross, and subconsciously you tried to tuck your legs up to close them, but with him occupying that space there was simply no room. He glanced up at your eyes again, then down, a hand abandoning its place on your hip to thumb over your already embarrassingly wet cunt and part you. Sitting back on his haunches, using his knees to push your legs apart further, his other hand came down, spreading you with both thumbs to observe. The embarrassed noise that left your lips didn't tear his attention away, hands coming up to hover over your mouth as you watched him, once again begging the question...

 "Have you never seen one before?" You blurted out, cheeks rosy and eyes half lidded. Really it was the only explanation, as far as you were aware you weren't completely abnormal down there, at least not that you were told. Almost immediately regretting your decision, the slow slide of his eyes up to your face, he didn't answer, but there was a tinge of pink at the tips of his ears that spoke for him. "Here," You bit your lip, a hand coming down and slowly sliding your fingers down, then up, gathering some of your slick before rubbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, "Like that."

 Nai seemed to look apprehensive, confused, only for a moment before he mimicked your actions. You keened, back arching slightly as he pressed his fingers just a bit too hard. Reaching down, your fingers encased his wrist, holding it back slightly. "Gentler, you have to be gentle... Please."

 A frustrated scoff was all you received, nevertheless his actions seemed much more careful, gentler, and you were only moderately concerned that the thought made your heart swell. With his middle and ring finger moving in slow, deliberate circles, you arched your hips into him, eyes sliding shut once again as he toyed with you, his fingers quickening in pace. His name was a mantra on your lips, syllable after syllable egging him on, before his fingers came to dip down like yours had. They dipped down a bit too quick, too hard, his fingers dipping into your aching core up until the second knuckle. A choked out scream was ripped from your throat, not expecting the sudden intrusion, but his curiosity gave you no respite. His fingers delved deeper, then pulled back out, all the while you were gaping at the ceiling at how well only two of his fingers seemed to fill you. 

 "T-That's- N-Nai, it's sensit-ah! " You bucked your hips when his fingers delved back in, seeming to get the idea quicker than you were hoping he would. Crying out a moan, you whined for him, keened for him, peering at him through your lashes as he fucked you with his fingers. Despite being rough around the edges, his fingers managed to reach a specific spot that you were sure was going to make you cum soon if he kept abusing it. As if he had done this plenty of times before, his eyes were locked onto yours, his other hand pressing down into his tented pants. The pants were loose around his hips, baggy on anyone that wore them really, so you didn't know if he was really that fucking big or if it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. It made your mouth water.

 "Nai," You called out to him desperately, hand clasped around his wrist once again, "I want to touch you too," Your voice was quiet, raspy, sweet, and the smile gracing your features made his furrowed brows and focused scowl falter. Pushing yourself up on your forearms, you reached down, finger hooking in the waistband of his pants. Seemingly growing confidence, or more likely it was his ego shining through, he sat up on his knees, allowing your hands to pull the fabric down. 

 It was a visceral effort not to have the same reaction he did to you when you were met with sticky white petals encasing what would have been a normal, albeit massive, cock, absolutely shocked beyond comprehension. You always entertained the thought he was non human, considering how often he spoke lowly of humans and his incredibly short healing period. The glyphs running up the length of him left you breathless, the slow ooze and drip of endless precum coming from the tip making you lick your lips. When your hand gripped him at the base, the glyphs pulsed and glowed, the surrounding sticky petals curling in and around your hand. The glyphs began to spread, across his pelvis, down his thighs, and then you realized where you had seen these markings before...

 A Plant. He's a Plant. His otherworldly beauty and distain towards people suddenly made so much sense, and you couldn't fault him for it.

 Pushing yourself up onto your knees, but still not matching his height, you slowly moved your hand, a quick, deep exhale coming from his slightly parted lips. His cheeks were much more ruddy, a stark contrast to his pale skin and hair, and you couldn't help but smile softly at him as you gripped your fist a little tighter, the slide up and down slick and smooth with how much liquid was dribbling out of him. All you could do was watch, stare, transfixed by the dribble, the glow, before you couldn't take it anymore. 

 "Can you sit back for me?" You were sure he wouldn't be so willing to relinquish control, but the kind words coming out of your mouth weren't unalike the gentle words that you muttered whenever you would wrap him up or tend to his wounds. So, he did, kicking his sweatpants off and sitting back against the wall for you. Leaning down, you continued to pump the length of him. Testing the waters, you gave the head a kitten lick, pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste of the viscous liquid coming out of him. It reminded you of honey, or nectar, the floral scent behind it completely bewitching. Your lips encased the tip, a low groan being punched out from his lungs as you did so, hands working what you weren't immediately fitting into your mouth. 

 Really, it didn't take much to completely unravel him, only managing to hollow your cheeks and move down about half way before his hands were grabbing at your hair and forcing you the rest of the way. Unsure exactly why, even as you gagged you were moaning around him, earning noises from him in return, but you were completely enamored by him and his cock that you didn't care he was pushing his hips up to meet you half way, fucking your face. He was rough, tugging your head down in time with his upwards thrusts, his grunts and groans increasing in frequency as you completely lost yourself in him. Hand reaching down, spinning circles around your clit, you felt his hips stutter and falter before he let out a long, primal groan, pumping your mouth and throat full of cum. You spun your fingers faster, chasing your high desperately as he gave quick, shallow thrusts into your throat, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop, and you thought you might drown in him before he was pulling out of your mouth, globs of sweet liquid pouring out of from your lips, clinging to your face and bed. 

 "Fuck, that-" Interrupted, you were grabbed by your bicep, being hauled up and tossed back. Your head hung over the side of the bed, addled brain trying to catch up to your sudden upside-down visual. When you felt weight on top of you, you strained to lift your neck, watching as Nai wrapped his arms around your thighs, tugging you into him. The slide was easy, instant, completely sheathing himself in you with one strong thrust. You wanted to scream, but the position you were in coupled with your throat being fucked raw, all that came out was a pathetic squeak. He grunted, setting a brutal pace, tugging you in time to meet his thrusts by your thighs. You moaned, gasped, sputtered, tried calling to him to slow down, please, but it fell on deaf ears. 

 Completely unexpected was the hand that came down between your legs, thumbing at your clit. That seemed to be enough for you, your mind running blank and seeing stars as he continued to fuck you through your earth shattering orgasm. Your legs seized, muscles spasming and tensing as you felt an unfamiliar wetness between your legs. A deep grunt and growl was immediately followed by a pair of strong hands grabbing at your waist, tugging you up and into him as if you weighed nothing at all. Delirious, mind spent, you could barely register the fact you had thrown your arms over his shoulders, a hand gripping your hip so tight it was certainly going to bruise as he fucked up into you. His other hand grabbed at your cheeks, squeezing and forcing you to look into his piercing gaze. He was beautiful, his eyes, the crease of his brow, the snarl on his lips and his bared teeth, primal and angelic.

 "You're mine," He growled, your mind spinning as you moaned and whimpered for him, "I'll keep you, pet, I'll protect you, but you're mine. Do you understand?"

 Barely able to nod in his grip, you simply swallowed, choking on a raspy yes. 

 "Say my name."

 You didn't think you would be able to, mind hazy and voice weak, but one hard thrust up had your voice punched out. "Nai!" You keened, eyes sliding shut as you felt your second orgasm creeping up on you so soon. "Nai, please I'm go-gonna- cum!"

 The firm grip he had on your face moved back, fisting your hair and pushing your lips up into his as he groaned into your mouth. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you to the brim with more cum. He never stopped, hips humping up into you through his orgasm, pushing you over the edge on your second, and you were completely devoured by him. 

 Stilling, Nai pulled back, his heaving breaths fanning over your cum and sweat sticky face. His eyes scanned you, and all you could do was stare dumbly in return. Slowly, he lifted you, grunting when his softening cock slid out of you, petals curling and wrapping up to encase him. The slow dribble down your thighs made him huff a seemingly amused exhale, keeping you close in his arms as he laid back on the bed, you on top of him. Nothing was said, only the wind and chirp of bugs outside encasing you in a melody perfect to drift off to. You sighed, adjusting your head so your face was tucked into the crook of his neck. He tensed, but said nothing, so instead you filled the silence. 

 "I'll be yours, Nai. I'll take care of you."

#knives x reader smut #millions knives x reader smut #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #millions knives trigun #knives trigun #trigun x reader #trigun x reader smut

[cuttlekiss-mlp]

thought i might attempt to start off strong with my mlp infection au

this is still a pretty big WIP, especially with all of the characters. i've been very thorough with how i want things to go, so i've been taking my time with it.

stuck with a sketchier style bc it fit the vibe of what i wanted so well

MY LITTLE CATASTROPHE : SPIKE AND TWI

!!!TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE!!! "Dear Princess Celestia, I have made a grave mistake, and my judgement is no longer sound. I have ruined everything. I am in search of a cure for what I have created. It cannot be destroyed. Normal magic cannot undo what I have done. He is gone, but maybe I can save the others. I am sorry that this letter has not been sent to you in a timely fashion. He is gone. I had to send this letter via pony mail. Please forgive me for all I have done. Friendship is not strong enough to save us. My friends have abandoned me. They know what I have done. Your faithful student, your failure, Twilight Sparkle."

Between all of the commotion of Sombra's defeat and Twilight's ascension as an alicorn, no one was quick to notice a very important missing person. As soon as Twilight realized her favorite baby dragon was not there to greet her and celebrate, she felt sick to her stomach. Where was he? Spike was found by Cadence. He was delivered to Twilight wrapped in her large pink wings, wounded beyond what could be saved. He was already dead when he was found. Her baby dragon was gone.

No amount of friendship or comfort could console the new princess. She laid with her body curled around Spike, and her cries filled the courtyard for hours. It took two days for her to move from that spot and head home towards Ponyville, where Spike would be buried in front of her home. But she could not bare the thought. Spike could not be gone, not forever.

When she returned home, she holed up in her tree house. The doors locked, the curtains covered the windows, and there was nothing but silence. Twilight worked tirelessly for hours, using magic to preserve her baby dragon's body long enough to find a spell that would erase what happened. Spike would not be dead for much longer. The power of friendship and love would bring him back to life. It had to.

She explained to her friends that if they used the Elements of Harmony, theoretically, he could be revived. They had their reservations. No one thought it was a good idea...but Rainbow Dash talked them into trying. Twilight was hurting, she needed her friends to be there for her. However, their attempts were in vein. Spike was not revived.

Despite their failed attempts, Twilight remained stubborn and persistent. She could not let this happen. Spike could not be gone. Everyone was starting to worry about her, but no amount of convincing could change her mind. They refused to continue trying. They did not believe in her and that made her very angry.

Returning into hiding, Twilight's determination became concrete. She did not sleep, she barely ate. Dash visited frequently, while the others had resolved that Twilight needed time and space. She was the only reason the princess ate anything at all. Twilight soon caught reference to a spell in one of her books. This spell was in a particular book in Canterlot's library...and that is where she would go. She packed up and she made her way swiftly to Canterlot. Unfortunately, the book was locked away, for it's magic was forbidden and dangerous. But this did not matter to her. Twilight broke into the library, stole the book, and rushed off to Ponyville. She would not allow anything to stand in her way. Spike could not be gone.

The spell required an intense amount of magic. Twilight would need help to cast the spell, to bring Spike back. But, none of the other elements would help her. They insisted she lay Spike to rest. She refused. How could they ever say such a thing? How could they give up on Spike? How could they not believe in her?

Twilight took it upon herself to cast the spell. She took the Elements of Harmony and she wielded them herself. Bright beams of pink light flooded out of her curtains...

!!!TW BEGINS!!!

"Twilight. . ." A soft, exhausted voice called from the explosion that was her living room. Twilight could barely hear it's faintness, but his voice was unmistakable. She blindly stumbled towards the voice, to find Spike. When she found him, she was first overjoyed. Spike was getting up! Spike was alive!! Bright pink and sparkling ooze spilled from his chest as he rose from his bed. "Twilight?" His voice was louder and sounded panicked? "What is happening-" his voice cut off with a sickening gurgle. Pink bursted from his mouth, and he coughed and wheezed, trying desperately to regain his breath. His eyes were bleeding, or were they rotting? Twilight couldn't tell. She rushed to his side and she held him. Spike choked and convulsed, pink ooze spilling all over his bed and onto the floor and onto her. And then...he stopped. Unsure of what happened, of what to do, Twilight stared in disbelief, in heartbreak. Had she revived him only to suffer yet another painful death? Tears welled in her eyes and she cried out with unbearable pain.

Between her cries and uncontrollable sobbing, she didn't hear Dash break through one of her windows. She held Spike and cried and cried. The house was a mess and Twilight was a mess and covered in pink ooze and Spike was a mess and pink ooze was still coming out of him. Despite her best efforts, Twilight would not let go of Spike. She snapped at Dash to leave her alone, and that is what Dash did. She didn't want to, but what was there to do?

Twilight fell asleep in the midst of her crying, holding her baby dragon close and covering him with her wings.

She woke to a gurgling growl and a terrifying creature standing above her, with pink, sparkling drool dripping from it's mouth. It's eyes were dark and lifeless but little pink glowing orbs betrayed it's gaze. It stared and growled and breathed raspy, shallow breaths. Twilight pushed it away in fear, scrambling up from Spike's bed. That is when she realized what the creature was. It was Spike...but it wasn't truly. He twitched and groaned and dripped pink ooze.

Before she knew it, a knock came at her door. Spike's head snapped towards the sound.

The door opened.

Spike lunged.

Screams and Spike's growls erupted.

What had she done?

#my little pony #mlp infection au #mlp infected au #mlp au #mlp au lore #mlp au art #mlp fim #mlp fanart #mlp redesign #sketch #pony #alicorn #twilight sparkle #spike the dragon

[strawberrylabs]

Goodnight with Genshin characters! (Pt 1)

Featuring: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe

Summary: Nights with some of the Genshin cast based on their voice lines!

Warnings: some of these are quite angsty!(it depends on the voice line of the character), and some also contain spoilers for character lore!

Note: this is my apology post for being a solid 19 posts behind whumptober and ignoring my inbox<///3 im getting there guys I promise!!!

Lyney! (125)

"Good night. If you have trouble falling asleep, I have a few little props used for hypnosis that might help... or Maybe not. Either way, sweet dreams!"

Lyney's gentle smile after his comedic suggestion helps you feel at ease. He comes up with something different every night- you really don't know how he hasn't run out of magic-related-sleep-remedies yet.

He often goes to bed after you. Whether he's up practising some magic for his next show or doing some work for Father in the veil of the night doesn't matter to you. As long as you awake to find him there, unharmed, you can manage falling asleep with out him.

But, on the rare occaision he goes to bed at the same time as you, sharing in your night-time routine and holding your hand under the covers, the two of you can stay up for hours talking about anything, everything and nothing.

Freminet (156)

"You go ahead, I'm gonna stay up and read for a while. Hmm? What am I reading? It's, um... It's about diving. There's a bunch of skills I need to... Anyway, night!"

It's not uncommon for Freminet to read before bed. If you're lucky, he may even read with you next to him, allowing you to read along, always checking to make sure you've finished the page before turning.

Althought every night he says he's reading about diving, or marine life, or automechs, you've learned to pick up on the slight rouge of his cheeks, and the stutter that becomes a little more apparent when he lies about what he's reading. It's on these nights you know he's reading about Pers, and it's on these nights you know to leave him be.

Whether he chooses to sleep with you- in the same bed or the same room or the same house- you know not to betray that trust. And for as long as you respect him and his boundaries, he will be grateful.

Sometimes, in the night, you think you feel yourself awake to a faint 'thank you',

Kazuha (194)

"The wind has ceased... The world is silent, so now is the best time to rest well. See you tomorrow."

Kazuha often doesn't join you during the night, whether you are choosing to sleep or stay up. He opts to sit in the crows nest of the crux, listening to the silence of the night. He'll swear that from up there, it appears as if the world itself has gone to sleep with the night- the sea acts as a blanket for the life below, the stars and moon a night light for the trees and the sand and the surf, the clouds casting a shadow of calm upon the land.

Kazuha spends his nights writing about what he sees, and when you awake you find a poem written in his hand about how the beauty of the night reminds him of you.

On the nights when the land is not calm with dreams, but instead enraged with nightmares, he will sit with you in your cabin, and chat about the day gone by. Despite the conditions outside your walls, you sleep best on those nights. The nights where you awake to find you had both fallen asleep with smiles on your faces, after long conversations that drift into the night on lovesick clouds.

Venti

"Off to the land of nod? Haha, farewell, my friend!" (318)

You loath the nights where Venti bids you goodnight without joining you. You can tell by looking at the way he looks everywhere but you, by the way he laughs- hollow and false, so unlike his usual mellodic, spring filled chuckles- and you can tell by the way he says "friend", that he'll be spending his night alone in the hands of his statue, or at Windrise, or at Stormterrors lair. You know he'll be contemplating the centuries of his past.

He'll sit in his own hands, because they're not really his hands, but the hands of his first companion; and by doing so he can feel that maybe the memory of that unnamed bard who he held so dear is not truly forgotten by his people- after all, they built a statue of him, even if they did it unknowingly. He'll gaze at the bark and the leaves of the tree at Windrise, and recall how he let Mondstadt fall into the hands of couption and tyranny due to his negligance the first time around. He'll gaze upon the ruin's of Stormterro's lair- of Old Mondstadt- and replay the events from thousands of years ago, when he was just too weak, too slow, too powerless to save the first being to make him feel something.

You know you should leave him alone. Let him sort through his mind and his memories. But you also know that his mind plays the nastiest, cruelist of tricks on him- dragging him down with nightmares and jabs of "what if's" and "why's".

So when he turns to retreat into the neverending chasm of his mind, you reach out and grab his hand. You follow him into the chasm, and help brighten the darkness with the light of your presence.

Venti is reluctant to admit it- but he will.

'The monsters of my mind seem a little less scary with you here.'

Cyno

"Goodnight. Now, there's some criminal activity nearby that I'll go deal with."

You can't help but worry about Cyno when he says he's going out late to deal with something like this. You know as the General Mahamatra he has various responsibilities he must uphold. But when you're alone at night, your thoughts wander, and you ponder more on his situation.

You wonder, if his father hadn't suffered such a fate, would Cyno still be doing such dangerous jobs as a Matra? Or would he be a regular Spantamad scholar of the Akademiya? If he hadn't been pushed into this position, would he be lying with you now, drifting to a dreamless sleep with you, and not risking his life without recognition- or at least not the recognition he deserves.

You know it's not your place to think these things. Cyno is happy with his job, happy to follow after his Father, regardless of what things are said about him.

You quash your fears and your thoughts when you hear him return. He never left you for long. You knew he would always return to you. And he had every intention of doing so as long as the need remained.

Childe (182)

"Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!"

You always chuckled at his Ajax's tendancy to call everyone comrade. You teased him about it whenever it happened, and he always laughs with you and exclaims 'it's just habit!'

You know Ajax is busy, and he'd have less work during the day if he worked through the night. But he always insists on going to bed with you.

He created a bed-time-skin-care routine for you both- courtesy of him buying all the products. He puts is hair in a headband and follows the usual plan to a T.

When it's time to sleep, he smiles warmly at you. You pretend not to see the sadness in his eyes. He pretends it isn't there too.

So, for as long as the shadows of night will hide the pair of you, you'll bask in each others warmth, and soak up the laughter and the kisses you share.

And when the morning comes, as Ajax leaves to do jobs you never speak of, you will both eagerly await the fall of the sky's curtains, so you can forget the worries of reality once again.

Hope you enjoyed!

-Strawberry

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#genshin impact #The steambird: Hot off the press! #The steambird: Lyney #the steambird: freminet #lyney x reader #freminet x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #cyno x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader