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#and not this awful loud ringing
onlythebravest · 7 months
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ring klocka ring
translation & transcription below
I’ll say it again, I’m not great at translating shit so is this is just kinda correct and probably not great english either
klocka ringer = bell ringing
Interviewer: What will it be – [interrupted by a loudly ringing bell] like –[interrupted again] playing – [says while the bell is ringing:] here in Sweden?
Nylander: …
Interviewer: [says very quickly during a break of the ringing bell] What will it be like playing in Sweden? [bell starts ringing again]
Nylander: …
[bell continues ringing for the longest time yet]
Nylander: … [bell goes silent] … [short break in complete silence] No, it’s gonna be great
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yerimoonlight · 2 years
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the first five minutes of destruction & this is one of my favorite episodes of this show
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fairycosmos · 2 years
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can you explain what sleep paralysis feels like? i think i have it often if this is what is feels like: i kind of wake up suddenly but i can't move at all and i see actual people or shadows in my room, around my bed or sometimes on top on me or in my bed but i can't move at all and im completely awake and scared. BUT i also get this thing more often (nearly every day) where i haven't fallen asleep yet, it's always as i'm falling asleep, where i get paralyzed as in i can't move my body by myself but at the same time i can literally feel my eyes rolling back and my body kind of seizing up??? and my head feels heavy and i try to move and make it stop and when i manage to move an arm or something is over but often i have to wait. like i literally feel like im having a seizure. does this happen in sleep paralysis???
hmm what ur describing does sound exactly like sleep paralysis in my experience but i would definitely ask your doctor about the seizing / eyes rolling back thing asap bc i'm not sure if that's the norm. could just be your mind noticing you're entering sleep paralysis but ofc it's better to be on the safe side. definitely recommend talking to a professional! x
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datastate · 1 year
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things need to stop happening to interrupt my sleep. what must i do. head in hands... my headache forever..
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randygrim · 25 days
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Headphones just broke all the way thumbs up
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fairy-hub · 18 days
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“𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!”
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, pain kink, pussy slapping, caught, hints of jealous!reader, fingering, belt used to choke you, face spitting, hints at a quickie outside/outdoor sex, bondage with a tie/light choking with said tie, pussy inspection, praise/degradation, teasing/begging, daddy(Toji, Kento & Suguru’s)/sir(sukuna’s)/lil mama(suguru’s)/brat, edging/ruined orgasms, choking, pussy inspection, oral (receiving), hints of cock warming, grinding your cunt on suguru’s fat cock, suguru plays with your nipple, biting, mating press, prone bone, vibrator/vibrator goes up your ass
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: you're such a fucking tease, you know that? ❜ sukuna 🙏🏻
Fey: maybe she shouldn’t have flirted with your man (Sukuna) / @maxellera remember how we were talking about Toji getting annoying when you ignore him after a fight well, why not purposely dress up for him to add the cherry on top
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𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚
“It’s been all fuckin day! First that damn skimpy maid outfit, and tonight you’re walking around in this?” He grabs a handful of your sheer nightgown ripping it off your body and dropping it. Pushing two thick fingers into your soaking wet cunt with a loud squelch.
His thick rings rubbing your lips, “You’re are such a fuckin’ tease dumb lil slut!.” Your grasp on the edge of his desk tightens as your toes curl into the carpet.
His fingers feel too good stroking your soft soaking wet cunt. Clenching his fingers and crying when he smacks your ass. The sharp stinging on your sorry cheeks feels too good.
Whining, “Thank you for spanking me sir!” Pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt until your thighs are trembling. His desk keeping you from running.
Your cunt is throbbing with a sharp sting. “I just wanted to check on you sir before turning in! See if you needed anything from me.” Sukuna’s assistant walks in and Sukuna yanks your head back by your hair.
He nudges your lips apart pushing three fingers in knuckle deep whilst ordering, “Tell her I’m busy.” There is a small satisfaction when you realize it’s the assistant who was flirting with him earlier.
Pumping his fingers faster making it hard to talk without moaning. “He-he’s busssy nnn fuck he feels so good. He’ll call for you after he cums in me!” Sukuna let’s your hair go, squeezing your throat whilst pumping his thick fingers faster.
Your soaking wet cunt’s squelches are getting louder than your moans. His fingers are magic in your cunt fucking you closer towards cumming.
Sukuna snaps, “Leave, you’re ruining the moment, looking at you is making my cock soft.” The assistant quickly scurries off and Sukuna glides his fingers out of your sloppy cunt.
Letting you go to rid himself of his clothes, looping his belt around your throat. He keeps it loose whilst asking, “What makes you thinking I’m gonna cum in you instead of on you?” Gliding his fat cock head between your lips.
You’re quick to answer, “Nothing sir! I wanted to make her jealous I know she wants to be in my place. I’m a jealous slut!” Tightening the belt around your neck, he yanks you back onto his cock by your throat. Filling your soft tight cunt up with his fat heavy cock.
Sukuna croons, “Aw you want my fat cock all to yourself?” You’re clawing at his desk whilst taking his punishing thrusts. Sukuna’s fat veiny cock is hitting too deep. His hips snapping against your ass with loud smacks.
𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
All Satoru can think about is how he can see your wet, pretty cunt underneath your skirt. There is a tight throbbing in his cock and his balls ache. He can't think straight.
Pinning you to a tree, “I can’t do this anymore you win.” Satoru’s cheeks flush pink, “You fucking win god fucking damn you’re such a fuckin’ tease I love it.” Slipping his hand underneath your skirt, you grab his wrist to stop him.
Looking up at him smiling, “Say that again first!” He unzips his pants and pushes them down letting his pretty cock stick out.
He steps back giving, stroking his cock in front of you whilst smirking, “You win! N’ you’re reward is cumming on my wonderful cock.” Letting his cock go, it sticks out straight, softly bobbing as he slips his clothes off.
He’s beautiful, soft white hair catching the sunlight. Sliding his fingers through his hair. You can't see his eyes but you know he’s staring down at you. “This will have to be quick but tonight you’re coming to mine, I'm tying you up and taking my time with every fuckable hole.”
Reaching for your skirt Satoru protests, “Don’t, I want to fuck you in your skirt.” Pushing you against the tree, unbuttoning your shirt pushing it open and tugging it off you.
“Since I'm the one who won shouldn't I be making the calls.” You’re folding for him so easily despite this. Keeping your skirt on and sliding your hands down his chest. You’ve been wanting to feel him up since he lifted his arms to stretch and his shirt lifted to show his silver happy trail and a strip of skin.
Satoru croons, “This bra and your wet cunt has me thinking I'm the real winner, so really it's debatable.” Snapping the bra’s strap against your shoulder, then raising your arms tugging the bra up t bind your wrist with it.
You lift up one leg wrapping it around Satoru’s waist. He grabs his cock rubbing his warm head between your lips. “I thought you didn't like debating.” Pulling him closer with your leg around his waist, moaning as he cock glides into you.
He smirks, “That’s why I'm not debating I'm telling you, I win.” Pinning your other thigh by your side he groans, “I’m the one getting to fuck you, you’re so wet n tight for me.”
Satoru fucks you harder, loudly groaning, “Fuuuuck! Squeeze my cock with your wet cunt! I definitely win! Look at me, you’re so beautiful when you cum i want to see your face.” Holding your wrist above your head and squeezing your thigh.
𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢
Toji lets you get a few gasp of air before he’s squeezing your throat again. “Nah you wanted to ignore me so you get to be quiet n take this fat cock. Stupid slut beggin' me to help you cum after ignoring me for an hour over a dumb ass fight.”
Using his heavy weight to press you into the mattress whilst you’re on your side. One leg bent the other straight between his legs. Toji grunts, “You’re such a fuckin tease putting on lingerie when you’re mad at me. It makes it so hard to argue with you when all the blood is rushing to my fat cock.”
Rutting his hips faster as your sqlueching cunt clenched and quivers around his fat, veiny fat. He smirks and croons, “Awe my stupid brat is about to cum!” Pulling out and smacking your cunt, replacing the tingling pleasure with a sharp pain.
Writhing underneath Toji he sits on your leg partly pinning you making it hard to avoid his punishing smacks. “Poor lil slut does it hurt? Is your poor little cunt throbbing?” Letting your throat go he grabs a toy turns it on its highest setting then presses it to your sensitive clit.
Pleading with Toji, “I’m sorry I won't do it again! Please lemme cum!” Your throat is sore from Toji’s firm grasp yet you can't stop begging. “Wanna cum! I'm sorry! I wanna cum on your cock! It feels so good!”
Swirling the toy on your clit, thrusting his fat cock into your tight, sloppy wet cunt. Toji groans, “That’s bullshit! You’re a brat n ya like gettin’ your attitude fucked outta ya too much.”
Clenching his fat cock, moaning, “Please please please please please! I'm a bratty slut for your cock daddy please! I'll be good after this!” You’re so pent up after several ruined orgasms your getting so close to cumming too quickly.
He grunts, “I know you will be, I'm gonna make sure you’re be too exhuasted to be a brat.” Pulling out taking the toy away at the last second, slapping his heavy cock on your lips. He rubs it in your face, “That was so close, you almost came there!”
Pushing the small vibrator into your sensitive cunt. Clenching the toy pushing it out onto his palm. Toji smacks your ass the shoves the wet toy into your other hole. Leaving the string with its heart shaped button sticking out.
You can feel the strong vibrations in you cunt from your ass. “Keep on begging n’ trying to convince me to let you cum.” He rolls you fully onto your stomach, grabbing your hair, gliding his cock in with a quick thrust.
Toji leans over you, his heavy weight pinning you into the bed as he fucks you prone bone. Groaning in your ear, “If you stop begging I'm pulling out, then we can find out if you’re worked up enough will you cum from a vibraotor in your ass. Or if you still need my cock in your sloppy wet cunt.”
𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
Suguru is fighting for his life with how your shifting on his lap, rubbing his throbbing cock against your clothed cunt. You’re soaking through your underwear yet your attention remains on stardew valley.
Controller in hand you running towards your farmer’s house before running out of energy and passing out in the yard. “Aw damn I didn't get out the mine fast enough.” Leaning down Suguru kisses along your neck, biting softly when you falter.
He suggests, “You should carry some coffee around.” Slipping his hand underneath your shirt, sliding his large hands up your sides. It’s was already difficult to to focus with his hard cock and now he’s softly rubbing your nipples.
Moaning, “I should, nnn Daddy! You’re such a fuckin’ tease! You haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself all day.” Setting the control down on his bed. “My cunt is still sore from the last round.” After three hours you could still feel his fat cock in you.
He softly gasps, “I’m a tease?” You can hear the cocky smile in his voice. “Lil mama you’re the one making my cock hard squirming in my lap. If I didn't know better I say you’re grinding your cunt on my cock on purpose.” Holding up his fat cock, Suguru is long enough he covers your wet cunt.
You lean back against Suguru, grinding your hips sliding your sloppy wet cunt on his fat, veiny cock. Moaning as his head rub your sensitive clit. Slipping your fingers into his dark hair knocking his messy bun loose.
Rocking your hips faster, rubbing your clit below his cockhead. “It feels too good not to! I've been horny all day and your fat cock is so thick and long it hangs past your balls. N’ you’ve been groping me since before you opened your eyes thus morning.” Dipping his head to bite your neck.
Whining, “It’s all your fault!” Looking up at Suguru’s beautiful face when he sits up. The angle reminds you how much taller Suguru is.“I love how big you are, your cock, your muscules, your height, I get wet just being near you.”
He gloats, “That sounds like a you problem, but I'll help you just daddy what you need lil’ mama.”
𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨
Kissing your forehead then ordering, “Bend over for me so I can see if you’ve touched yourself in the past ten minutes.” Undoing his tie, it's errotic watching his thick fingers tug on the tie’s kno. You want his thick fingers in your wet cunt getting you ready to take his fat cock.
Bending over for Kento “How can you?” Kento wraps his tie around your throat then tugs your wrists behind you back to bind together. If you tug your wrist or hang your head you’re choking yourself.
He pushes the sheer skirt of your babydoll lingerie. Slowly dragging his finger over your clothed cunt. “By inspecting your beautiful cunt, don’t tell me you think I can’t tell what she looks like after you cummed.” You fight the urge to squirm as he pulls your underwear aside spreading your soft lips apart with two fingers.
He kneels behind you putting his handsome face close to your wet cunt. “Stunning.” Kissing your soft lips then slowly thrusting a thick finger in. Watching your small hole stretch to take his thick
Kento slowly thrust a thick finger in eliciting a soft moan from you. Pumping his finger slowly, he’s taking his time feeling your soft cunt and your frustration bubbles over. “I’ve been good all day! Please you’re such a fuckin’ tease with all those pictures of your cock and that video of you cumming in your hand, please daddy I've been trying so hard to be good!”.
Slapping your cunt, biteing your ass and squeezing a handful of your other cheek. When he slaps your cunt again you can his wedding ring hitting your lips. “You were good, but I can't let get away with slipping up just now. I know you’re frustrated but that no reason to give me any attitude.”
Pleading with Kento, “I’m sorry! It won't happen again!”
He warns, “If it does I'll edge you until you cry.” Kissing your sore cunt, nudging his tongue past your lips. The position makes it easy to sit on Kento’s handsome face. His soft tongue feels so good rubbing your sore cunt, easing the stinging.
“Please let me cum! I'm so sorry daddy! I shouldn't have given you any attitude please take care of my cunt!” Pulling his tongue out Kento stands up and you can hear him undo his belt.
He tugs on the taunt tie between your shoulder blades pulling you upright. Kissing the top of your head, he slides his large hand up your side. “I know you’re sorry which is why you’re going to good for me and keep my cock warm and wet whilst I finish a glass of 1792 whiskey.”
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sanatomis · 19 days
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cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)
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satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.
only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.
satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.
for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.
“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.
it’s so satoru.
you have to stifle a giggle.
“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”
“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”
satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.
“mhm, still my baby.”
“yeah? what else am i?”
this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.
“my honey bun.”
“and?”
“my boo bear.”
“mhm.”
“my sweetheart.”
“yes?”
you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.
he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.
“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.
“my sugar cookie.”
“my muffin.”
“my baby cakes.”
“my angel.”
“my love.”
“my husband.”
“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”
“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”
“i think you should call me it again.”
“oh?”
“mhm,” he mumbles.
“my dearest husband.”
“again.”
“my handsome husband.”
“again.”
“my sweet husband.”
“again, please?”
you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”
satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.
“i think i want to be your husband for real.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”
“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.
“hm, good to know.”
for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.
he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.
he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.
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tuesday in the park (a.d.)
pairing: divorced!art x reader
synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.
warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk
notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!
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City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.
Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.
Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…
And then suddenly… another pattern.
A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.
You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.
It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!
But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.
You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 
“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.
“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”
“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”
The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”
“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”
“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.
“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.
The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”
“Come on, Daddy…” 
“No way.”
“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,
“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”
The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 
“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”
He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.
He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”
You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.
He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”
It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.
He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”
You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.
(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)
“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 
You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.
He nods. “I’m Art.”
He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,
“Nice to meet you, Art.”
He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 
“So what brings you out here?”
“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”
“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”
He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”
And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”
You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”
“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”
The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an interpreter.”
His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”
“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.
“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”
“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”
“But not today?”
You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”
“Fuck.”
“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.
Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”
You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”
He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”
“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”
Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.
You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”
But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.
Oh.
You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”
Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”
There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.
“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…
“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 
If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.
“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”
“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”
The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.
Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”
“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.
“Oh! Um…”
And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”
Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.
“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”
“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.
The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”
You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”
He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.
Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.
“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.
“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.
His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.
“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”
“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”
She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.
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inkskinned · 1 year
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for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.
i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.
in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.
the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.
i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.
i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.
i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.
the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.
when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.
we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.
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alisonwritesimagines · 2 months
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Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~
Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.
Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!
BatFamily Masterlist
Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut
Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!
Do not repost this anywhere!
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Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.
“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.
“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.
“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.
“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.
"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."
As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.
"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.
You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.
“Hello?”
“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”
“We just got home. Why?”
“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”
“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.
"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.
"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.
When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.
"Aw my poor husband," you say.
"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.
“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.
“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.
You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.
“Tempting me my love?”
“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.
“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.
“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.
The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.
“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.
"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.
"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.
By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.
“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.
“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.
“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.
You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.
“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.
“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.
“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.
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pearlywritings · 8 months
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Sometimes the name doesn't matter
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synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2
pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)
word count: 6.9k+ words
a/n: part 1 can be read here!
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Capitano
Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.
The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.
Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?
Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.
"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."
"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."
"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."
"What do you imply?"
"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"
"You are right��� Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"
Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.
"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"
"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."
"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."
"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.
"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.
"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."
The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..
"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."
The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.
Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.
"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.
The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.
Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.
Everyone gasps.
The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.
Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.
Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.
“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”
“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”
“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”
And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.
And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.
“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”
“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”
“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”
“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”
“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.
“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”
“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.
“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”
Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.
“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.
“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.
“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”
“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”
Kaveh
With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.
Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.
Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.
When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.
Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.
“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.
“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”
“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.
“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”
At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.
“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”
The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.
“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”
“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”
“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”
“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.
“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”
Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.
“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response. 
“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”
Oh Archons, again?
There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…
But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.
“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”
“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”
“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”
The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.
“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.
Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.
"Kaveh's wife"
With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them. 
“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”
The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.
Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions. 
When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.
“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?
“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”
“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.
And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.
Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.
And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.
Tighnari
With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.
Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.
Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?
Well…
“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”
Ah yes, him.
Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea. 
“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”
No, it absolutely would not!
Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.
And from day one it was a pain in the butt. 
One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.
Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.
You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.
The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.
“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”
You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.
“...and?”
“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”
“Well, you don’t have a mate?”
It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.
“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”
You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.
“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”
You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.
“Get away from me!”
You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.
“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”
But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones. 
Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.
Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.
However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.
Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?
“Herbad Y/n!”
…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.
“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.
“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”
Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.
“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”
All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.
“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.
“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.
The key word - almost.
Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.
“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.
“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”
“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”
“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”
“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”
“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”
The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.
“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”
With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.
“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”
Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.
“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.” 
”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”
With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.
“As you wish, wife.”
Zhongli
"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."
To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.
It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.
Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.
In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.
You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.
Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.
When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.
“Does it bother you that much, my love?”
Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.
“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”
Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.
When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.
Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.
"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."
You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.
"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."
The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.
"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.
"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.
And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).
They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.
They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).
Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.
“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”
 “But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.
“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”
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James Potter x shy Hufflepuff fem!reader
Summary: You have a massive crush on James. One you didn't think would ever lead anywhere until a drunken party in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Genre: Fluff 🫶
Warnings: drinking, being drunk
~ directly inspired by the song So High School by Taylor Swift. thank you to the anon who requested this! ily! ~
Your cheeks burn from your embarrassment and the fire-whiskey in your blood-stream as your ears ring from the loud music dancing around you and you shake your head.
Lily Evans laughs as she glances around the Common Room. "C'mon, this is your chance," she insists, "They're playing Kiss, Marry, or Kill."
When Lily sees your confused and frankly frightened expression, she quickly explains, "It's a muggle game—it's harmless and fun—c'mon," she says again and pulls on your arm.
"Gentlemen," Lily declares when you approach the circle of students near the fire and she looks at the ring leaders of the group, The Marauders.
They're the ones that had planned this party—or Sirius and James had while Remus and Peter tagged along.
Sirius grins when he sees Lily. 
"Aw, are you joining us, Red?" he smirks and then he sees you, "And who's your friend?"
You smile shyly. You know Peter from Care Of Magical Creatures in your third year, and you often seen Remus in the library (you've even spoken to him a few times), but you've only ever seen and heard James and Sirius from afar—
—which definitely never helped the stupid, baseless, soul-crushing crush you have on James Potter. 
Remus, who is sitting criss-cross ext to Sirius, speaks up, "Y/n, yeah? You're a Hufflepuff—I see you in the library." He smiles kindly and pushes on James's shoulder, who has the latter almost choking on his beer, so you can sit next to him. 
James frowns but he recovers quickly and looks up, his glasses crooked on his nose. He's wearing his Quidditch sweater, his brown hair a tangled mess, but he's smiling now.
"Hi," he moves so you can sit next to him and Remus as Lily grins like a fool. You feel her hand on your shoulder as she plops you down next to James and she sits across from you. 
Apart from the Marauders, other students are also sitting around the circle and chatting. Sirius is by far the loudest of them all, and you think James is the funniest. 
It becomes honestly embarrassing how hard you laugh at any stupid joke he says. You can't help it, your tipsiness impairs any rational thoughts you may have, as you cover your mouth and stifle your laughs. 
James notices immediately and he grins. 
"Never had this much success, dove," he says, as charming as always, "You're cute."
This causes you to become even more flustered and you don't even know how to answer him. So, you hide from him, turning your head in the opposite direction. Lily sends you a knowing look.
James leans his knee closer to yours and you have to convince yourself he did that by accident or you'll simply implode. 
"Okay, Jamie, Kiss, Marry, Kill—me, Lily, and our new sweet little Hufflepuff," Sirius suddenly says, pulling your attention to the group again. You still have no clue what this game is and your eyes round.
Sirius seems quite pleased with himself.
James sips his drink, "Hmm, Kill you because you're a pain in my arse—" 
Sirius dramatically puts a hand on his heart, feigning hurt at his best friend's words. "And here I had the ring all prepared," he whines. 
James chuckles and continues. "Then um," he looks between you and Lily for a moment and your heart sinks.
Everyone knows James had a thing for Lily in second to fourth year. How could you, someone who had been too shy and awkward to even talk to him, compete with smart, incredibly witty, and beautifully stunning Lily Evans?
"Kiss Lily and marry Y/n," James shrugs, smiling lopsidedly as he looks at you and pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Lils' seems like she'd be a decent snog, but I like them sweeter for the long run," he reasons and winks. 
Lily laughs and rolls her eyes, "Smooth, Potter."
"No need to get all green-eyed on us, Evans," James says and turns his attention to you again, "Whadd'ya say, lil' puff, June 17th in six years?" he says, planning the future fake wedding.
You look up at him, your eyes round and you blink—unable to laugh it off as your heart thumps so loudly you can barely hear a thing anymore. 
"I think you broke the poor girl," Remus chuckles and then turns to Peter to steer the attention away from you, "Okay, Wormy, your turn."
Thank Merlin for Remus Lupin.
* * *
A while later, you stand in the corner of the room, your mind still stuck on how James's teasing that you don't hear the man in question come up to you.
"Hey, dove," he whispers and you spin around.
"Oh–hi," you whisper. You must look so smitten because you can just feel your cheeks burn.
James smirks. "It's late. Where's Lily?"
You frown as you look around, "She's talking with um—some of her other friends over there—" you point, expecting James to walk to her and leave you behind.
Instead, he stays. "You think she'd mind if I walk you back to your Common Room, you seem a little tipsy."
You're at a loss for words but then you stutter, "O-oh, no, I don't think she would mind," you whisper, "That's very kind of you, James. I c-can walk alone if it's a bother—"
"Nonsense. If it was a bother, I wouldn't have asked," James takes your arm, pushing some hair from your face with his fingers.
"Cute ribbon," he adds, looking at the red ribbon in your hair, "Very on brand with Gryffindor pride," he chuckles as he clearly enjoys the flustered look you're wearing.
"You're adorable," he says and he takes your hand, leading you out into the hall. The corridors are empty and dimly lit at this time in the evening and it feels surreal to walk the halls hand in hand with James Potter—especially when he keeps looking back at you with that look on his face. 
When you arrive at the entrance of the Hufflepuff Common Room, James turns to you and he keeps his hand in yours. He's blushing obviously now and you can smell the beer on his breath.
"If we weren't so tipsy," he mumbles, his knuckles caressing your skin, "I would kiss you right now."
Your eyes widen and your breath leaves you. "Pardon?"
"You heard me, love—where have you been all my life?" he sounds lovesick and one of his palms press against his warm cheek, "Is this what love at first sight is supposed to feel like? Because I was convinced that was all bullshit until now. What charm have you put on me, Y/n?"
You look away because if you look into his eyes any longer, you'll faint. Your hand squeezes his as his words make you feel dizzy and all fluttery. "I think you're just a little drunk, James."
"Drunk in love, yeah," he half-jokes, his tone soft as he leans in and his lips find your forehead.
You shut your eyes, wondering how he could make you feel like this in a mere matter of hours and although your insecurities creep in, you stay in the moment. 
"Where can I find you tomorrow?" James whispers against your skin. 
"I'm in the library a lot, especially in the mornings," you say, having no expectations of ever seeing James Potter again. You and him live on completely different planets.
"You can find me there if you'd like," you finish and James nods, his lips kissing your temple one last time and then he whispers a small, sweet dreams into your skin. 
* * *
  In the morning, you ignore your hangover and find your usual spot in the back of the library as you open an old book written by an ancient muggle philosopher. 
Last night's events in the Gryffindor Common Room play in your head as you read. 
"Mornin'." You're startled by a familiar voice and you look up from your book. James stands in front of you, a Quaffle under his arm as his hair splays messily across his forehead.
He's still dressed in his Quidditch Uniform and he walks closer, smiling. "Sorry I'm late—practice ran later than usual. Whatcha reading?" he asks, sitting across from you and draping his arm across the chair next to his as the Quaffle sits in his lap.
"You came," you whisper with a smile, your heart fluttering.
"Yeah, 'course I came," James says so casually as he leans over the table and taps your book, "Whatcha reading, dove? Do tell me all about it,"
You feel all warm and fuzzy like all your wildest dreams have come true, when you say, "Only if you tell me all about Quidditch practice after?" you look at him shyly.
"Your wish is my command," James grins, a faint blush on his cheeks.
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dollwrites · 7 months
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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!human!reader, from behind, rough sex, use of sex toys ( cockrings ), don’t ever wear or allow someone to wear a ring for longer than 30 minutes pls, noncon ( reader asks to stop, satan doesn’t ), all characters featured are aged 18+
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3
𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹’𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ poll winner [ satan + cockrings ]
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this had been a terrible idea.
but you’d only started to realize it now, when Satan wouldn’t slow down or ease up. it was the same, loud PLAP, PLAP, PLAP! over and over. heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit as he fucks you relentlessly.
“I— need—“ you were panting, trying to clench your fists, but the devil king had a tight grip on both of your elbows, keeping your arms jerked back towards him, using them like levers to wrench your body back into his rough thrusting of hips. “B—break!!”
a low growl vibrates from deep within his chest, the muscles in his arms tightening, veins bulging. he holds you in a vice as soon as you utter the word, as if solidifying the fact that he’s not going to let you go anywhere until he’s done. “Not so fast, hng, you’re the one that wanted me to wear this fucking thing in the first place, weren’t you?”
it was almost a taunt.
but it was the truth. you’d talked him into securing the tight, shiny gold ring around the thick base of his cock. watching in awe when he hissed through his teeth as the sensation of being forced to stay hard, even when he wanted so desperately to cum. the pressure of the ring, squeezing him, didn’t allow him to.
and this was your punishment for denying him.
“And now you’re bitching about it?”
your eyes cross as his pounding seems to find a new speed and velocity, and you choke out a pleading cry. “It’s b—been hours—! You can take it o—off!!”
Satan chuckles, and releases your arms. “Oh, no, I don’t think so.” he grunts, watching you collapse forward against the bed and slump into the mattress, but the second you reach your arms forward, as if to pull yourself out from under him, he presses all of his weight down on your back, his knees jabbing into the backs of yours, pinning you in place and keeping your trembling legs spread open so you have nowhere to go. you feel the solid ring like a hard bumper, hitting your cunt as he buries himself as deep as he could possibly go. “You see, I like this. Tenderizing your poor, little pussy. Making sure you walk funny after this. And now that I can do it for hours with this little toy of yours?” a raspy, breathy chuckle tickles the shell of your ear that you can hear even your own, loud cries that it’s too much, before he nips at your lobe roughly with his teeth. “I’m not done yet. Not even close,” he hisses the threat through grit teeth, his pace settling back into the usual quick-fire pounding that turns your mind to mush. his moans and growls that would usually lead to his climax hypnotizes you, and before long your whimpers of protest had melted back into moans for him to keep going. to fuck you stupid and break your fragile, human body with his cock. “That’s more like it,” he groans, grasping your hips to hold you down so he could plow, “I’m fucking you senseless, little girl. Gonna break ya, and it’s all your fault for showing me this handy, little toy.”
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beautysamour · 10 months
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cock warming dick grayson ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝
— a/n: i hear purring but i don’t have a pet cat.
warnings ゚𐦍༘⋆: descriptive language, sub dick grayson because yes
Dick hums as he presses kisses at the top of your shoulder, his hands teasingly tugging the back of your shirt as you clench around his dick.
You can’t see his face but you can hear him, every noise his openly makes and the ones he tries to muffle but can’t.
You lean back, your back hitting his chest treating him much like a chair as you use one of your fingers the trail up the vein on his dick. He softly grunts yet it rings loudly in your ears.
“You alright baby?”
He pathetically mewls as your pussy throbs around him, he drops his head on your left shoulder and breathily inhales when you adjust yourself by lifting yourself up then dropping yourself all the way down on his dick.
The wetness of your cunt rings loudly in his ears. He breathily exhales thinking he could speak without stumbling over his words—but the attempt is futile when you lift yourself up again, almost completely off his dick. You turn around in his lap, your pussy circling around his tip and he throws his head back as he bites his lip to muffle the otherwise neighbor-hearing worthy moan.
“Aw,” you coo as his hands immediately start pawing at your breasts, “I asked you a question baby, are you alright?”
You look down at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes are closed undoubtedly too distracted at the way you clench your pussy and drag your finger nails up and down his chest, never missing his nipples.
“I—I’m,” he breaths turned erratic as you lay yourself on his chest, still sitting up but your head is on his left tit. Your fingers trail down to where your pussy is, his dick completely hidden by it, and you draw wet circles.
He can’t focus. His eyes are shut, head still hanging back, and his neck completely vulnerable to you to attack. He doesn’t care though, all he wants is to be good for you and give you a response, no matter how broken it’ll sound.
“I’m,” he tries again, his dick twitching inside of you, “ge—grea—grea—great.” You start sucking on that sweet spot on his neck and his eyes roll to the back of his head with a twitchy thrust up directly hitting your g-spot.
You moan against his neck, “Dick,” you tightly squeeze around him, “I’ve already told you to stop moving.”
He jerks his head back up when he feels your pussy cover less and less of his dick, his hands gripping on to your hips. You raise a brow looking down at him as you kneel over him, feigning disappointment as he tries to keep his tip inside of you because even that would be enough instead of not being in you at all.
“‘m sorry,” he mewls, “I promise— I promise I won’t move again, just please, please stay on me, ‘like how you feel, please, please, please—“
You shove two fingers covered with your own wetness into his mouth shutting him up. He looks at you with stupid confused eyes and then sucks obediently, his tongue swirling around your middle finger.
He arches his back, his mouth falling open to let out a loud groan when you take in his entire dick again, all your weight resting on his thighs.
You remove your fingers from his mouth and shove your underwear into his mouth as a gag instead, “Ok, ok. I hear you pretty boy, my pretty boy.”
Dick immediately sucks on your underwear trying to suck out as much of your wetness as he could, his eyes locked on your breasts. It was pathetic but you couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sight.
You caress his cheek, a small feigning innocence smile on your face and bring a hand to the back of his neck, “Pretty, pretty boy,” you coo. You push his head and he lets himself follow easily, he eyes flutter shut when you tuck in him into the valley of your breasts.
You run your clean hand through his hair. He nuzzles his face deeper and a muffled moan leaves his throat as you wrap your legs around his waist forcing his cock deeper into your warm, comfy, pussy. <3
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miguelspriscilla · 10 months
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fucking rcd!miguel in the back of his car after he won a race
“Oh—fuck..”
Miguel grunted as he continued pounding into you deeply from behind. His eyes staring down at your ass, the small-spaced car covering the sounds of squelching and skin-slapping. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust, your fingers digging into the center console where you were forced to lay on as your best friend fucks you roughly in the back of his car.
This is how the night usually ended after Miguel won a car race. It all started during a sleepover at your house when you suggested the idea, giving him motivation to actually put more effort in the competitions. So after these races, the car would be parked by a cliff nearby the city while the two of you fuck round after round—not stopping even when you were on the verge of passing out.
“You like that, nena? Tell me.” His lips curving into a smirk, both of his hands gripping on your hips tightly. You squirmed, feeling his hard cock still thrusting into your tight, spongy walls.
“Y-Yes..I love it so much, Miggy!” you moaned breathlessly, the cute noises you were letting out were only bringing Miguel more pleasure.
“Fuck, I love when you call me that..”
You responded with a sweet smile before feeling him suddenly hit that sweet spot of yours, your face contorting with pleasure once again. “Please, Miggy! I want you to cum inside me!” you beg without hesitation, your knuckles turning white as your hands move to grip the center console instead. “Fuckfuckfuck!”
Your chants only encourages Miguel to set a relentless pace, driving his cock into you so roughly to the point the tip kisses your cervix. Pornographic moans leaving your sweet lips as Miguel reaches over to grab a handful of your hair to pull you back, forcing your back to arch even more, enough for your breasts to press down on the leather material of the console, never losing his pace, greedily driving himself deeper and deeper.
“You drive me crazy..never wanna leave this sweet pussy..” Miguel darkly chuckles, just as you were about to give out, feeling yourself wanting to stop, you felt yourself reach a climax that had you seeing white spots in your vision, moving your back closer to your best friend’s chest. Your face completely stained with tears and drool while shuddering as your legs shake— Miguel felt you continue to clench around his cock.
“Oh Miguel!” you mewled, Miguel watches a white ring of your sweetness cover his cock and it leaves the man almost falling apart on top of you. He groaned into your neck with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, his cum filling you up as you moaned at the hot sensation.
As your best friend continues emptying himself inside your cunt, both of your chests heaving heavily with a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. You were completely fucked out, not one thought in your pretty little head while you stayed still.
Suddenly Miguel’s phone began going off, as if it knew when to start ringing. He seemed to forget to shut it off before he impatiently jumped your bones. He gave your butt a harsh slap, laughing when you responded with a loud whimper before he reached to his race car jacket to grab his phone from the pocket.
“Damnit!” Miguel rolled his eyes, looking at his phone screen and it read, ‘Dana.’ His girlfriend. As much as he didn’t want to answer, he still clicked the green button. As soon as he held his phone to his ear, he slid his now soft cock out of your pussy.
“Aw! Come back, Miggy!”
“Give me a sec, nena. It’s Dana.” Miguel murmured, hearing you continue to protest for him to stick his cock back in but instead he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit as he waited for Dana say whatever the hell she wanted to talk about at 1am. “Hey— Dana..right now isn’t a good time.”
“Yeah you must’ve been sleeping! But..I just missed you.” Dana replied affectionately through the other line. She seemed eager at the fact Miguel picked up.
Though he didn’t match his girlfriend’s enthusiasm, his focus remained on you. Resting himself on your back, using his tongue to finally explore your drooling mouth while listening to Dana talk endlessly about her day, how much she misses Miguel, and how she wished she could have attended the race to see him win.
Your knees still prompted on the car floor, slowly aching from how long you stayed in that uncomfortable position as you press your thighs tightly, trying to relief the loss of your best friend’s cock. You swore you could fall asleep from the boring conversation Dana was basically having a conversation with herself. You never liked her, she was obnoxious and passed herself around way too much. But the feeling was mutual between the two of you, she never liked how you and Miguel are so close..Dana has suspected most of the time that you were both hanging out— you were sucking his cock at the back of his car.
Miguel mindlessly nodded at whatever Dana said, humming against your lips until he pulled away and watch you lay your head, pouting your lips. “Mhm..mhm..yeah?” Miguel shrugged, not paying attention at all. He was watching the mixture of your juices and his cum oozing out of your pussy, the scene was absolutely breathtaking, literally. He couldn’t breathe right as he watched your fluids drip down your thighs and onto the carpet, staining it but Miguel didn’t care.
Though you were sensitive and exhausted, you pathetically whined loudly— surely Dana had catch that. “Hey Dana, I’m kinda busy right now. Let me call you back in 20 minutes?” Miguel interrupted his girlfriend during mid-conversation. His eyes trained on your leaking hole, watching as more of his cum spill out of you, the feeling making your body shudder once more.
“Actually let me call you back in the morning, yeah?”
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SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!!! IVE BEEN CONTEMPLATING ON POSTING THIS FOR 5 DAYS NOW. PLEASE PLEASE IM SORRY ITS BAD I JUST LOVE MIGUEL😭
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