#diplomatic uniform

[notbecauseofvictories]

oh no, is competent hayward....hot?

#when he says ''I mean I'm no intellectual...I'm not a thinker'' #and then proceeds to give what sounds like a diplomatic and thoughtful response #to a proposal about the role of gods in an opinion paper #my brain did some. confusing things. #like excuse me? that is my wet cat tangled in a police uniform he found in the trash. #what is he doing being the administrative leader of a cult. how is he GOOD AT IT. #the silt verses

[gwarden123]

Who’s paying for all of this? Simple raiding wouldn’t be enough. Like, the Empire’s fancy armour and heavy machinery and tanks are broadly equivalent to the kind of equipment the United States Armed Forces have in comparison to other countries. It’s big, and expensive, and uses some of the most advanced technologies we’ve developed. The amount of money the United States spends on its military is ridiculous. The amount is so vast, they don’t accurately know how much it is.

There’s a scene I really like in Ran by Akira Kurosawa. The daimyo has been betrayed by his sons and he and his army has fled for the countryside. And his army of samurai can’t feed themselves. Because a specialised class of elite warriors specialises themselves out of the chain of production. It needs a people much larger than themselves to support their existence.

#star wars #the mandalorian #it's the writers #the writers are the ones paying for all of this #they wrote it into the script like Atrus and a big pile of money materialised in front of Moff Gideon #along with factory workers and farm workers and accountants and seamstresses to make the uniforms and cooks to make the meals #and construction workers to build their bases and plumbers to fit their toilets #and freight workers to deliver their materials and miners to dig those materials out of the ground #and traders and diplomats to source rare materials from far off places #and farmers and factory workers and etc to support all of them in turn #the Empire was built on the backs of the entire galaxy #you can't cut off its legs and expect it to stand

[commander-jbennett]

James had spent the whole night pacing after the message he'd gotten, but he'd spent the last two hours getting ready for a meeting. He wasn't sure how formal he would have to be, so he just settled for a clean Starfleet uniform over his civilian clothes, going for a semi-formal uniform since he figured it was important, but wouldn't be a very important diplomatic meeting.

He really had no idea why the Vulcan embassy would want him to show up for a meeting, but he hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself. He'd been told he could bring up to two others with him for moral support by the person who'd called him, but he really didn't have anyone like that.

So, he went alone.

#anyway incoming short story because he's been technically missing for 29 years and his dad committed a very serious crime #like his father kidnapped him essentially #anyway in his universe there are at least 6 levels of formality #at the bottom is athletic wear; duty wear; semi-formal; formal; diplomatic* (first contact; very important cultural meetings); ceremonial #only senior officers and above have diplomatic uniforms since they're more expected to be in on those meetings

[celestialscatterbrain]

1. Natal Chart Observations

1. Libra Moon: decision paralysis that comes from feeling two contradicting ways about an issue. “I want my cake but I want to eat it too.” I feel like libra moons are the most sentimental of the air moon signs. Libra moons can constantly weigh out the pros and cons for every emotion you feel. “I want to do this but I don’t want to deal with how messy it’ll make things.” When libra moons are feeling a little lost, they can over-schedule themselves and their commitments to friends to avoid thinking about overly-vulnerable feelings. There is zero tolerance for imbalance in relationships. Poor behavior from a partner will be met with matched behavior to tip the scales back to a balanced one, even if the overall locational of the scale is descending into negativity. “You get what you give” mentality. Libra moons can be keen on the idea of karma. “Come to me with sweetness, or don’t come to me at all.” Daydreaming about romance is a relaxing way to pass time. Before maturity, libra moons might suffer from social anxieties when they find themselves in group settings where there isn’t a cohesive vibe. If someone around a libra moon doesn’t look like they are having a good time, it subconsciously makes it difficult for a libra moon to relax. The libra moon will then play the role of a diplomat or host/hostess to ensure the vibes equalize to restore their peace.

2. Mars in the 10th house: these natives are always making money. They are known for their side hustles too. They are always looking for new ways to make money and I feel like they are good at getting clientele. They will get their hands dirty for their job. For a man, this can point to a “blue collar ‘manly’ job.” I noticed 10H mars can be pretty generous with their money and services, but feel extremely terrible about getting help from others. If these natives aren’t confident where they are in their career or skill set(s), I noticed that they are likely to undersell themselves or undercharge for their services/time. It can also point to people in the workplace as perceiving the 10H mars person to be brash and outspoken. The authority figures in their career can feel a sense of competition with the 10H mars person, or wants to humble them in some way. I feel like it’s really easy for them to get good jobs or climb up the ladder when they do things the right way. They get impatient when they aren’t growing in their careers as fast as they want to. “Why am I not a millionaire yet.” They work hard for what they want and are very ambitious once they find their niche. I feel like these are often people who can find jobs that don’t necessarily need a degree. Their career mistakes feel explosive. They can be seen as “sharks” in their fields because they go in for the attack. They like to be the best and the most competent at what they do, and want their colleagues to see them as competition. “I’m the best and no one will tell me otherwise.” They can be known for being assertive and extremely determined in meeting their goals. They will work themselves to the core and utilize all their energy towards elevating themselves career and reputation wise.

3. Mars in the 1st House: These people might often be noticed for their bodies. They might be seen as someone you shouldn’t mess around with. They look athletic. Maybe they are known for fitness or for being athletic. These natives can be associated with the military, and probably look incredible in their uniforms. This is a man-eater or womanizer placement, for sure. “I get what I want when I want it.” They look like they have a rough exterior, even if they are sweethearts. They can be into martial arts. Commanding presence. They can make wonderful personal trainers. Regardless of gender, they can come off as being comfortable with their masculine energy. Reds look great on them. They might have thick eyebrows and a nice jawline. They look attractive when they are angry. They know how to make someone feel sexy. They have people chasing them or falling for them fast.

4. Pisces and 12th house placements: these people have no problem ghosting you. Pisces placements and 12H placements are always made out to be innocent and naive, but they are attracted to people and situations that have something a little “bad” about them. Savior complex. They can go through feelings where they feel detached from social settings and those they love, where they cannot fully escape the role of observer. They will always be able to fully escape into their internal landscape and get consumed by it— but it seems as though no matter how hard they try, they can’t have that same presence in the material world. This can lead to frustrating feelings of disconnection from the world and people around them. They can be smiling and staring off, but you will never fully know what they are thinking. They can make people really curious about them, because their thoughts always catch you off guard. Having an existential crisis on the daily. Casual things might have a bigger internal meaning to them that others might not always understand. We can find plenty of people attractive, but if the spark isn’t felt in the soul and doesn’t pique a deep curiosity, we will get bored and swim away. Liking people who are a bit “mean and dark” but wanting them to be sweet and soft with you. Using music to paint your daydreams, or to escape. Finding music that relates almost entirely to whatever they have on their mind feels like striking gold. They can like someone just for having the same interests as them. Feeling like a ghost in a flesh suit. Enigmatic. Can embody different vibes and personas depending on who they are around. They are sensitive and can adapt to the situations at hand. Too much self awareness can lock them in their heads. “I only jump into waters with the depth of an abyss.” Laying down for hours just to daydream and process your thoughts. Long baths feel like therapy. Moderation isn’t in our vocabulary. We love what we like, and we want to get lost in what we love. Not being able to properly process your day or interactions until you’re alone and can replay them in isolation.

5. Taurus Placements: I noticed Taurus moon women get spoiled financially by their partners. The type for their partners to say “don’t worry, I’ll work and you can be at home,” or that being their partners goal at a point. I noticed Taurus placements can enjoy the occasional shoplifting. They are not going to compromise their comfort, and if you come after that it will be met with intense stubbornness. They can seem nonchalant about a lot of things, but can be extremely unwavering in their opinions on certain things. In some cases, they can have strange eating habits or relationship to food. Thankfully, the Tauruses I’ve been around don’t project that on those around them. It’s more internal from what I’ve noticed, and they can enjoy feeding those they love and care for. They can have great taste in food. They love sensual vices and sex. They look great with pearls. They master an aesthetic and can stick to it. They are fiercely protective of those they love. They can be lazy at their worst and will not want to do anything that requires too much effort. They can be impressively good at couponing. Making money from home is the ideal setup for them. They will spoil their loved ones too, and can be great gift givers. They don’t cheap out with presents for their loved ones. They get much enjoyment from decorating their spaces and hosting their loved ones. They can be prone to overthinking and some may obsessive behaviors or crippling anxiety as well. They can honestly make the best scammers, as terrible as that sounds. They can sell someone a dream and make it sound beautiful, but can be lying through their teeth. Their jealousies can sometimes come from a place of vanity. Watch out for envying others, and appreciate your own beauty. They can focus so much on the beauty around them they forget about their own. They can be the image of beauty and grace, or strive deeply for that. They have pretty and soothing voices. Taurus placements can easily be the funniest person you know when they are in a joyful mood. I also noticed Taurus placements are wonderful at finding vintage pieces and re-selling them!

-D

#astrology #natal astrology #natal aspects #libra moon #libra #mars placements #astroblr #astrology observations #mars #tenth house #first house #pisces #Pisces placements #taurus #taurus placements #witches of tumblr #witchblr #astrology blog #astro notes #birth chart

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 2

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: he steps on your hand, non-consensual kissing, slapping

A/N: In which you try to stand your ground against Feyd and it just makes him horny

Palpable tension fills the room. You notice, not happily, the heavy presence of guards. As pale and unmoving as the walls, you wouldn’t have recognized them if not for the subtle hand signals from your mother. Jessica’s fingers twitched in the ancient Atreides language.

Stay on guard, she warns you. You don’t even have to look at her to know what she’s saying — you learned the secretive hand signals before you could even speak. Even just a quick flash of her fingers in your peripheral and you understand.

Will this day end in bloodshed?

The thought rags at you.

“Welcome,” the Baron finally bellows, voice thick and rasping as sand over the dunes of Arrakis. “It is truly an honor to receive you here today.”

Leto nods, ever the diplomat. You’re grateful for his lead and the prowess of his social navigational skills because, at the moment, you’re afraid that you won’t be able to speak. Not in the face of your destiny and certainly not under the severe scrutiny of your betrothed.

The Baron beckons you and your family closer and you swear that you notice Feyd-Rautha lean forward in interest.

“I trust your journey from Arrakis was well,” the Baron says.

Your skin prickles at the mention.

“Certainly. It was a smooth ride. I’m sure you’re familiar, since you’ve taken it recently,” Leto replies coolly.

The Baron snaps, “And will again soon.”

An insurmountable current of hostility perpetuates the room, not visible but impossible to not to notice. The Baron claps his hands together, the sound resonating. “But we aren’t here to discuss space travel, are we? Lady Y/N, step forward so that we may see you.”

The slightest nod of approval from Jessica. Her hand brushes yours as you pass by her.

It’s unknown to you how far you should go but you take several large steps away from your parents until you’re completely vulnerable. You hope no one is able to perceive your nervousness, or the slick state of your palms. You keep them hidden in the folds of your dress.

“Mm, lovely enough,” the Baron remarks. His repulsive gaze travels your form. Not in the way that one might appraise a mate but rather a livestock for purchase. “Excellent hips for birthing.”

You bite your tongue to stifle your retort.

From the shifting of garments behind you, you know the comment has unsettled your parents as well. Your mother warned you that the situation was delicate, that the Harkonnens would wait for the slightest aggression to attack. You do your best to maintain a comprise of neutrality, the cool indifference your mother manages to exude.

“Still an Atreides,” Rabban growls, low enough only for you, the Baron, and na-Baron to hear.

The Baron ignores this. “Well, nephew, won’t you greet your betrothed?”

A small exhale escapes you.

Feyd-Rautha lopes from his position beside the dais to stand before you. His proximity is overwhelming, the sheer size and force of his presence eclipsing all else; his lips have not loosed from their taunting smirk, an infuriating expression you wish to rid him of.

“Hello, betrothed,” he says. His voice, too, rasps against your ears, cool and unbothered.

“Hello,” is all you manage.

In a move that startles you, Feyd-Rautha unsheathes a dagger from his armored uniform. It glints dangerously in the low lighting. Although you can’t see her you hear Jessica cry out in surprise, in objection, and the guards at the perimeter of the throne room coil with anticipation. However, you keep still.

Feyd-Rautha presses the tip of the dagger lightly into your neck, below your ear. His dark gaze flickers down the column of your throat, following the trail of the blade. It’s a strangely sensual act, intimate in ways that disturb you, the fragile balance of trust and power it commands. Feyd-Rautha stops at the dip of your throat, where your heart is beating wildly, directly above the Atreides clasp.

He clicks his tongue. “You won’t be needing this.”

The Harkonnen slices at your cape faster than you can ever react — the garment flutters from your shoulders to the ground. It’s then that you realize he’s cut away the clasp and effectively stripped you of your Atreides title.

The clasp bounces against the polished floor.

Compelled by shock, by pure reflex, you bend down to grab it. Feyd-Rautha’s boot closes down on your hand before you can retrieve the clasp, slamming your palm down over it as he traps your hand against the floor. You gasp in surprise, and pain, the pressure of his booted foot clearly more demonstrative than punishing. For now.

“I told you that you won’t be needing that,” he says, exasperatedly informal. “Stand up.”

Teeth gritting, you squirm beneath his boot, trying desperately to reclaim your hand. “No!” You shout at him. “It is rightfully mine.”

He presses his boot down harder. You squeal.

“You are rightfully mine. And you will do as I say. A wife with a broken hand is still capable of fulfilling her duties.”

Shame burns your face and couples with the disgust taking root in your chest. Feyd-Rautha regards you coolly from above. If you thought you would survive the attempt, you’d snap his leg.

“Fine,” you spit out.

His smooth brow raises. “What?”

“Fine.”

“Louder,” he orders. “I want them all to hear you. Forfeit your Atreides loyalty.”

In the few seconds that you take to consider this, he pushes his entire weight down on your hand. The pain steals away all rational thought as stars appear in your vision. Your breath saws painfully in and out of your lungs. It takes all of your strength to grit out, “I forfeit my Atreides loyalty.”

A bout of protest explodes from Leto and Jessica, and the sound of their disbelief cuts you deep. You collapse onto the ground, clutching your injured hand and watch in horror as Feyd-Rautha stomps on the clasp and shatters it.

Pieces go flying.

There’s a terrible joy in the Baron’s voice: “Enough, nephew. I believe you’ve made your point.”

“That was completely unnecessary —” Leto begins. He quiets as a trio of Harkonnen guards gather not towards him, but you, weapons and lasguns trained on your crumpled form.

A memory emerges from your subconscious, an afternoon in which Leto mentioned that having a child is like having a lasgun pressed to your temple at all times.

His throat bobs with suppressed emotion.

Your parents won’t try anything if it puts you in peril. Even Jessica’s control of The Voice is useless.

“Lady Y/N is now a member of the House Harkonnen. Her husband will do with her what he sees fit,” the Baron declares. “Nephew, have you had quite enough?”

Feyd-Rautha faces his uncle. “For now.”

You tremble beside him. A heady mix of pain and anger boils beneath your skin. The Harkonnen soldiers fall back as the Baron waves a massive hand.

“Take her to her chambers. I’ve had enough.”

You protest, “No! I need to say goodbye to my family!”

A sickening smile spreads on the Baron’s face, and he holds out his arms. “We’re your family now.”

You don’t even get a final glimpse of your parents as the soldiers hoist you to your feet and corner you off from them. The roughness of the guards jostles your injured hand. “Get off me,” you growl, yanking yourself free from their grasps.

The soldiers move to contain you once more but Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Listen to your future Baronness.” You gape at him. The faint hint of a smirk returns on his face, and he steps toward you. “I’ll escort her.”

Then he grabs your injured hand as a tether.

The doors to the throne room slam shut.

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hand is strong, undoubtedly a reminder of his control. It takes more than a few pulls to dispatch him and, once you do, he whirls on you with a curious, almost bewildered look.

You seethe, “What is wrong with you? How dare you destroy my family pin.”

“You cannot be my wife if you have loyalties elsewhere,” he says, as if the explanation is obvious. “Your loyalties are to me and the House Harkonnen.”

“I decided where my loyalties lay,” you tell him. “And they belong to no one but myself.”

Feyd-Rautha studies you, then huffs.

“I’m being serious,” you hiss.

“I know.” He steps casually toward you, though it’s anything but. Your body tenses. “So am I.”

An indescribable feeling crashes over you, sweeping you nearly off your feet. Everything you’ve heard about him vanishes. In a move that surprises even yourself, you advance on him, close enough to see the glint of glee in his dark eyes. He’s actually enjoying this.

“You have taken everything from me,” you sneer at him. “My home. My family. My name. My future.” You inhale shakily, fighting back a sob. “But you will not take away my allegiance.”

“Do you think that I wanted this?” Feyd-Rautha asks bitterly. “And don’t pretend as if you didn’t just forfeit that allegiance. To me. Have you already forgotten?” He touches your face, much to your chagrin. He crooks one finger under your chin and raises it. “Need I remind you?”

“You’re a monster.”

Feyd-Rautha’s handsome features arrange into what you can only describe as satisfaction. “Yes I am.”

You recoil as the Harkonnen then presses his lips to yours, holding your chin in place to keep you from shying away. It’s brief, almost perfunctory in nature. A passionless, predatory claim.

He pulls away, and the subsequent sound of your slap reverberates through the empty corridor.

Feyd-Rautha clenches his jaw. Your hand stings from the strike, and you hold it at your side in anticipation of a retaliating blow. He rolls his neck. An eternity passes before he turns his attention back to you, pale cheek still reddened by your hand. It pleases you to notice it.

“We’re even now. Wife.”

Feyd-Rautha snatches your hand, which until that moment the pain had been subdued by adrenaline. You wince. He kisses your already mottling knuckles, the sensitive skin of your wrist, never pulling his eyes from yours.

You refuse to react, to acknowledge the flicker of heat ignited low in your belly.

Feyd-Rautha drops your hand then and, as if nothing had happened, turns on his booted heel and starts down the opposite direction. “Come, wife. It’s time I show you our quarters.”

Part 3

Tags:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle

#dune #feyd x you #feyd x reader #these destined ends #part two #feyd smut #feyd rautha #fanfic #writing #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #oh no he's hot

[odoraful]

Giving them jewellery p.1

you bring home a souvenir that you picked out just for them！

characters: neuvilette/xiao x reader tags: fluff, established relationship, a sprinkle of sentimentality a/n: it was really fun to come up with pieces of jewellery would suit these two! there might be a part 2 coming up of this including maybe lyney/zhongli

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑼𝑫𝑬𝑿 ₊˚.༄

Holding it up to the light coming in through his office window, the Iudex could see the true artistry of the brooch. The brass lyre was well polished, and the windwheel aster flowers painted at the base were so detailed he could see each individual red petal and the swirling green stems surrounding them. For having lived for centuries, he’d never seen such a quaint embellishment.

“I bought it at a vintage market they had before I left.” You gazed at how he inspected the lyre brooch you bought in Mondstadt city between his thumb and forefinger. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Indeed. For something so small, it is quite beautiful.” The cheerfulness in his voice was a relief to hear. You had taken a few rounds browsing the market, looking for the perfect souvenir. Despite the grandeur of his Iudex robes, Neuvillette was far from materialistic. You knew that something more understated would suit him well. The man from whom you purchased the brooch from said that this was a precious item. The original owner was his great grandmother who had received it from her beloved as a promise that they would celebrate Windblume Festivals together for as long as they lived. 

You retold the story to Neuvillette. “Now, a few years following his great grandmother's partner's passing, she asked him to sell it. She said she wished for another couple to have it to bless them with the love and happiness she experienced."  

He nodded. “A token of everlasting love between partners,” he said fondly. “It is something I wish for the two of us as well.” 

“Now that I think about it,” he grew wistful as he continued, “I rarely receive gifts from other regions. Aside from diplomatic ones, of course, but none have been personal or sentimental in nature.”

Turning from the window, he walked towards you standing beside his desk. “This is perhaps the first true gift someone has ever bought for me. Thank you, my dear.” Those sincere words were accompanied by him gently cupping your cheek and angling your face upwards. He placed a light kiss on your forehead. His easy affection made your heart soar. 

“For you, I’ll gladly be your supplier for all of Teyvat’s finest curios,” you grinned. 

He chuckled. “There is no one I would trust more in that role. Now,” he unpinned the brooch and handed it to you, “Could you put it on for me? I’m certain my gloves would make it difficult for me to do it myself.” 

You dusted off his lapel, searching for a good space to find it. After pinning it in place, you took a step back to admire the newest addition to his uniform. Neuvilette straightened his robes. At that moment, you could have sworn the clouds parted, letting more of the warm, morning light pour inside. 

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑽𝑰𝑮𝑰𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝒀𝑨𝑲𝑺𝑯𝑨 ₊˚.༄

Standing behind him, you brushed the hair framing Xiao’s face aside, giving room to place the necklace around him. Fingertips grazed his nape as you laid the cord flat and started tying it in place. His body stiffened at the contact, hyper-aware of your soft touch and absent-minded humming. 

“I can do it myself,” he had told you firmly a few seconds before. He had tried to clasp the necklace from behind, elbows pointed upwards. His brow furrowed deeper, the stubbornness to not ask for help was waning with each awkward, failed attempt. You leaned to the side to catch his gaze in the mirror in front of both of you. 

“Can you really?” you teased. “It would be much easier to let me help you, wouldn’t you say?” 

Xiao huffed when he saw your pouting face. He didn’t have the heart to say anything against your wishes. Facing against hordes of ruin guards and abyss mages was considered a warm up exercise for the yaksha, and yet the sight of a sulky Y/N made him weak. You held your hand out beside him, and he resignedly gave you the necklace. 

He looked at his reflection. Sitting just above his vajra necklace, the pendant was carved from pale green jade to be shaped like a small carp. Along the black cord were several other small jade beads secured in place between knots. It was certainly a divergence from his usual style. 

But it is… cute. Xiao thought, the corners of his lips lifted faintly. 

After clasping the necklace in place, your hands travelled to lay relaxedly on his shoulders. Feeling an unexpected stiffness, you began to gently massage them. Xiao cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again.

“You said this symbol is special in Qiaoying Village?” Though he was familiar with the village already, he wanted to hear you talk about it. 

You nodded. “Yep! I was told that in local legends, the carp is a symbol of good luck and protection for those who journey across the sea to trade with other nations, since, you know, Yilong Wharf is the main hub for transporting goods.”

He noticed your eyes flicking to the side, your voice turning more solemn. “Think of it as… a protection symbol from me, so that no matter where you are... you'll always remain safe and return to me.”

The moment was gone as soon as it came. You returned to your usual countenance. Bright and assured. The vulnerability slipping away along with your hands off his shoulders. 

Your words had provoked something within in that he couldn’t pinpoint. A sadness at your downcast expression, a frustration at himself for making you worry so often.

Overwhelmingly, however, he felt a desperation. A desperation to instil the confidence that he wouldn’t disappear one day without notice. He brought the pendant up to his lips. Your eyes widened. 

“Xiao?” 

“Thank you for giving this to me.” Resolve burned in his eyes as he gripped the necklace close to his chest. “Although I cannot promise I will be unharmed in my patrols, I- I can promise that I will always have enough strength to return to you.”

#✏️〰odorawrites #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #xiao fluff

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Know thy enemy

“Enemy fleet exiting jump now.” The tactical officer called out.

Admiral Haru nodded at the confirmation and switched the holographic projection to a live feed.

Bright pinpricks of light flickered in and out showcasing the enemy ships exiting their jump points. On the side of the screen the tracking software updated itself with each new ship, tracking and marking their current locations. The current count was at one hundred ships and increasing steadily.

“I recommend a withdrawal.”

Haru turned from the display to see his alien counterpart fleet master Wrang standing next to him. The translator unit was doing its best to interpret his species speech patterns, but it couldn’t fully remove the high pitched screeching.

“I assure you that we are in no danger of losing this engagement.” Haru replied even as the number of enemy ships continued rising.

“They outnumber us three to one.” Wrang pointed out. “We can not form a battle line against such numbers.”

It was true that the tracking software was not up to three hundred ships but thankfully the lights from jump exits were dwindling more and more. Haru wagered the majority of the enemy had arrived and any stragglers would be petering out soon.

As if to confirm his sentiments the enemy fleet began dispersing itself, morphing from a rough sphere of ships to a well-organized battle line. The heavier battleships and cruisers taking up position behind a screen of frigate and destroyer class vessels. Their sleek polished hulls reflecting a mixture of greens and oranges, with the crest of the Vulzon Theocracy proudly painted on the front of each ship.

“Numbers are not always the key to victory.” Haru remarked as the communication officer called out to the admiral.

“We have an incoming communication from the Vulzon flagship.”

“Begin a trace on the link and pass along their location to the gun batteries for targeting.” Haru said as he sat down on his command throne. He straightened his uniform and smoothed over several creases before nodding to the waiting communication officer.

The holographic projection flickered for a moment before switching from a view of the enemy fleet to a view of the Vulzon command bridge. There, standing in front of his command throne with one hand resting on his viper blade and the other behind his back, stood Haru’s adversary.

Tatiman; war chief of the eternal rage.

“We meet again,” Tatiman spoke through sharpened teeth,” little human.”

Haru said nothing and so the war chief continued.

“I must admit, I am surprised you stayed to fight.” Tatiman chuckled. “I had expected your kind to run and h-“

Haru motioned a hand across his throat and the communication officer cut the communication.

“Why did you do that?” Wrang asked; both deeply confused and troubled by the human’s actions.

It was true his government had relinquished control of their fleet to human control for the duration of the crisis, but he was also instructed to rescind that order and regain control of their forces. Humans were still unknown in the galaxy, making them an unknown and potential risk. A risk Haru seemed to be confirming right now.

“He’ll call back.” Haru remarked as he rested his hand on his chin and smiled.

No sooner had the words left his mouth did the communication officer speak up again.

“From their command ship again, Admiral.”

Haru listened to the chiming noise to indicate an incoming transmission but sat passively in his throne. A minute passed and the communications officer was about to ask again when Haru waved him to open the link.

Once again Tatiman was on screen aboard his command bridge, though looking substantially angrier than before.

“I am trying to be diplomatic,” Tatiman said through clenched teeth, “and you dare insult my-“

Again Haru swiped his hand across his throat and the communication was terminated.

“Do you have a death wish?” Wrang asked as he began to sweat.

“Hardly,” Haru grinned, “there’s a new episode of battle base five airing in two days and I will be damned if I will be killed before finding out which cyborg gave birth to Maria.”

At a loss for words at the entirety of the admiral’s statement Wrang just stood there with his mouth hanging open as yet another communication chime came in.

This time Haru answered it immediately rather than waiting and the link was established again.

Tatiman was now far beyond anger. Behind him one of the arms of his command throne was sparking erratically and Wrang imagined that the war chief had struck it after the second transmission was terminated.

“I will rip the eyes from your sockets, and make you watch as I strangle the life from your frail body!” Tatiman shouted. The loud shout startled several of the human crew but Wrang saw nothing of the same on the admiral’s face who yawned loudly.

“Listen, taint,” Haru began as he lazily slouched in his throne, “as much as I love your boastings I am with a friendly delegate and my time is short; so would you be a dear and surrender already?”

Wrang couldn’t describe the colors Tatiman went through as he stuttered words of rage. His eyes were wide and focused with a killers gaze while Haru yawned again and made the swipe motion to terminate the transmission.

“I hope you have a plan,” Wrang began as the entire Vulzon fleet appeared to power their engines and begin rushing towards them, “as you may have just killed us all.”

“Fleet wide transmission, now.” Haru ordered crisply and the communication officer complied without question.

“This is Admiral Haru to all ships, activate targeting scramblers and launch full spread of chaff.”

Wrang watched as the holographic screen flickered for a moment as the scramblers activated while a barrage of chaff missiles were launched. The first Vulzon energy lances began hammering the ships shields as the chaff missiles exploded. The space between the two fleets suddenly was filled with a thick cloud of white particles as if a bell had just been dropped in a dusty foundry.

“That tactic will only delay them.” Wrang remarked as the energy lances suddenly lost accuracy. Energy lances passed their ships harmlessly as the chaff interfered with the Vulzon targeting locks. “Even with scramblers and chaff it won’t be enough; they will be switching to visual targeting now.”

“I’m counting on it.” Was all Haru replied as the energy lances began finding their marks again. “By now every gunner and commander in their fleet is looking out a window or view screen to watch us.”

A shudder through the ship made Wrang wobble on his feet for a heartbeat before he regained his footing. Warning icons were flashing now across the view screen as energy spikes from the shields were beginning to ravage the human flagship.

“Why are we not returning fire!?” Wrang demanded as another shudder sent him to his knees.

“I’m waiting.” Haru remarked as he watched the view screen. The enemy icons had cross half the distance between the fleets and had now entered within the chaff cloud.

“For what!?”

“For this moment.” Haru said with a smile.

“All ships, all ships; fire Cheshire rounds now.”

Before Wrang could ask what a Cheshire round was the view screen lit up as every cannon amongst their fleet fired at the same time.

Wrang watched the Vulzon ships to see how many would explode, but was surprised when a second cloud of bright purple appeared.

“This was your secret weapon?” Wrang shouted. “You launch colored dust while they slaughter us?!”

Haru held up a finger to silence Wrang and said nothing else. So infuriated was the fleet master he was on the verge of ordering his people’s ships to retreat when he noticed something.

The ship had stopped shuddering.

Turning back to the view screen Wrang was astonished to see that every ship in the Vulzon fleet had ceased firing. They were still hurtling towards them but otherwise their guns had fallen silent.

“Admiral to fleet, disperse formation to avoid incoming vessels and prepare full barrage as they pass by.” Haru sounded off.

The fleet began to spread apart just in time as the first Vulzon ships began flying through their line. Some Vulzon ships passing close enough an engineer could reach out and scrape the Vulzon paintwork with a wrench but thankfully no collisions were reported.

“Fleet maneuver completed and all ships confirm they are ready to fire.” The tactical officer sounded off.

“Open fire.” Haru spoke as he watched the Vulzon flagship pass by before being hammered by a full broadside of energy batteries.

The shields flickered then collapsed in an instant under such a close bombardment. Wrang watched as the delicate paint work was burnt away as hull punctures riddled the entire ship from stem to stern.

All along the entire line human vessels were firing at near point blank range causing horrific damage to the Vulzon fleet which was still passing by without retaliating.

“What did you do?” Wrang asked softly. He had never seen a Vulzon fleet be destroyed so utterly and in such a manner that it defied all reason.

Haru rested his chin on his hand again and watched as the Vulzon flagship detonated under the latest salvo.

“Did you know that the Vulzon have very unique eyes?” he asked the fleet master. When Wrang shook his head he continued.

“They can see spectrums of light and energy well beyond what our human eyes can see, but that also makes them incredibly sensitive to certain things; things that can trigger violent and sometimes fatal physical bodily reactions.”

Haru looked at Wrang, but when he saw the fleet master still struggling to put the pieces together he decided to spell out his plan entirely.

“The color purple,” Haru stated as he pointed to the dissipating cloud of the color, “has been known to trigger a form of cardiac arrest if observed during moments of intense stress for Vulzon’s.”

“So,” Wrang began as he puzzled together Haru’s plan, “when you fired those Cheshire rounds you gave them…”

“-a form of mass seizure.” Haru finished.

He stood up from his command throne and walked over to the tactical display. “Vulzon are a dedicated military race with a strong sense of loyalty to their commander.” Haru began. “But this means that they also emulate their commander in all things. Dress code, discipline, mental state, etc.”

“So when you made Tatiman angry, they all emulated him and became angry as well.” Wrang put together.

“Exactly.” Haru nodded. “So when they saw the purple color they were all in a state of pure rage and anger, making the cardiac arrest they would normally experience that much more effective.”

“But they would know of their weakness.” Wrang countered. “Their sensors and displays would be programmed to remove the color from their screens to prevent that.”

“Unless they were scrambled and the Vulzon were forced to rely on visual confirmation.”

Suddenly the scramblers and chaff made sense. The human admiral had not deployed them to hamper the Vulzon weapon locks, but to force them into a situation that would expose them to their weakness without them even knowing.

“The benefit of making an enemy mad is that they tend to fail at thinking beyond the current moment.” Haru finished as he flicked a speck of dust off his uniform. “They don’t see the knife until it’s embedded in their chest.”

He pointed to the last of the Vulzon ships to pass between their fleet still steaming ahead with no regard for their own safety. A few had suddenly began to maneuver in different directions and Haru pointed them out specifically.

“Inform the fleet to focus on any ship not moving in a straight line first before others, regardless of class.”

The communication officer nodded and relayed the message. When he turned and saw Wrang looking confused.

“I imagine that by now someone must have gotten to the bridge to find their captain is dead along with most of their command staff and tried to steer the ship to safety.”

“I applaud you for your thoroughness.” Wrang bowed. “You are much wiser in the ways of war than I had expected.”

Haru smiled and returned the bow. “There’s an old terran saying that has defined my career.”

“To defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #action #space battle

[genshin-scenarios]

meetings, memories, just for you (lyney x gn!reader)

Summary: You’re a Fatui agent who works under Childe, accompanying him on his visit to Fontaine. There you meet Lyney under the guise of your civilian personas, and it’s not until later when he finds out you’re also part of the Snezhnayan group. However… what he’s more worried about is how to win your affections, as he aggravates (feat. Aether and Paimon’s company) about how to court you.

A/N: Many thoughts and head empty… I got this idea while I was doing chores and really wanted to write it out, so hope you’ll enjoy! 

Content warnings: Spoilers regarding context for Childe’s appearance/presence in Fontaine!

Wordcount: 3801

All things considered, your job as an agent under Childe’s authority was less stressful than that of other Fatui you’ve met. Much of your work involved assisting him with diplomatic paperworks, arranging travel plans, and the occasional combat.

While you’d like to say he’d taken an interest in your talents (a hydro vision bearer with a ‘life-stealing’ fighting style), the truth lies in how he’d found you at his family home while delivering something from Pulcinella. You were a regular recruit, and so was weak to his siblings' demands to join them in the snow and help build a gargantuan snowman. (We need more hands! Could you spare a few minutes?—it seemed like they took one look at you and you’d passed some sort of vibe test.)

To be honest, you didn’t have anything important to do save for returning to your base and waiting for other small commands, thus you ended up joining them. What a surprise it was for Childe then, to return home for a visit and see you there; he’d asked if you were working under anyone in particular, recognising your uniform, and asked you to go hunting with him (also for his family’s dinner, so how could you refuse after they’d given you snacks for the road?) And after witnessing your potential in combat, he offered you a place as his subordinate.

It wasn’t a prestigious role, but you made your way up the ranks with enough practice, and his younger siblings much preferred having a familiar face be the point of correspondence between him and themselves when Childe was in other nations - so here you were. An odd inbetween of subordinate, assistant, and friend (loosely termed, seeing as you did your best to not overstep despite how down-to-earth he was).

When he’d told you to arrange a visit to Fontaine, you could tell that Childe was in a low spirited period. His vision started to refuse his commands, and with every battle he’d leave with an even worse mood - all you could do was wordlessly heal his wounds. Your specialty involved trapping targets and healing your allies based on the damage done to enemies, which your peers used to say was akin to ‘balancing the scales’, whatever that’d meant.

Childe was feeling better after you’d first entered Fontaine, yet when he mentioned giving you his vision for safekeeping you were quick to rebuff that you weren’t going to be able to guard it safely. 

“Why not pay a visit to Aether, since he’s here?” You’d suggested. Frankly speaking, you were just hoping his usual cheeriness when it came to the Traveler would occur. “In the meantime, I will investigate the matter you assigned to me, Sir.”

That was what you were doing, going around Fontaine in hopes to learn more about the nation’s prophecy. Childe felt drawn here after his bad moods began, and so you hoped to find more clues regarding his dreams of a whale’s shadow.

It was easy to introduce yourself as the assistant of an important noble (not particularly false, since Childe had the mora to show for it). From your questions came responses that either thought the prophecy was farce, or divulged whatever ‘insider information’ they could. Some were quite the gossips, so you at least had an entertaining time listening to them.

“And so, it was said the Hydro Archon would be the only one left on her throne, weeping a sea of tears.” The man dramatically said, eyes shut for a moment of silence. “...Though of course, it’s nothing to worry about with the Chief Justice here. He’s very reliable, and would surely find a solution if it was really true.”

“It seems that not many people believe in its warnings,” you reflect.

“Well, there are better things to focus on if you were living here.” He boasts. “You should try watching one of the court proceedings when you have the time. Once you immerse yourself in the drama of it all, surely you will understand.”

“I will remember that.” A smile graces your lips, preparing to part ways now that you’ve gotten his input on the topic. “Now, if you would excuse me—”

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion of the prophecy?” A voice interrupts your conversation, belonging to a young man with violet eyes and a tear-shaped mark on his cheek. 

“We were indeed.” Your expression easily melts into welcome. “Does the topic catch your interest, Mister…?”

“Just Lyney is fine.” He gives you a wink, picking up your hand to kiss your knuckles in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Checking his pocket watch, the man you’d been speaking to earlier bids you both farewell after exchanging pleasantries with Lyney, mentioning that he was looking forward to the ashen-blonde’s next show.

“A show?” You couldn’t help but ask, curiosity pulling you away from your mission just slightly. “Should I be addressing you more formally, as a celebrity of Fontaine?”

“Just hearing my name from your lips is lovelier than any title.” Lyney laughs, and you wonder for a second if saying such words is second-nature to him. He’s quick to take a proper look at you however, and refocuses the topic. “So, you’re a visitor interested in the prophecy of Fontaine - may I ask where this interest comes from?”

You start to walk alongside one another as you converse, the picturesque city passing with your words. “Well… if I have to be honest, it is because of my employer.” You’re well-versed with twisting the truth into a pretty facade. Not many people are accepting of the Fatui. Your exasperated gestures are perfectly authentic however, when you think about the paperwork you had to do for Childe back at Liyue. “I work as an assistant of sorts for him, and take care of menial tasks or passing interests that come to mind.”

“Sounds like a taxing job.” Lyney pauses, contemplating. “Say… If I had a way to alleviate your stress, would you want to try it?”

“So long as it’s not hypnosis,” you joke, but are leaning towards him nonetheless. Seeing it as a sign to continue, Lyney puts on an easy smile and picks up his hat, flourishing and tossing it into the air.

“Keep your eyes on my hat, or you might just miss it.” Deft fingers catch its brim, before presenting it to you with the inside exposed. “Could you check if there’s anything inside?”

Not sure if you were supposed to touch it or not, you instead give it a careful once-over, lowering your head to look closely. “Nope, nothing’s there.”

“Ah, but what’s this?” He moves his hands in wide arcs, flourishing props in the air like a dancer. Taps the hat twice, and a flurry of playing cards rush out and dive towards the ground. In feigned surprise, Lyney moves his hands to catch them. “Oops—”

Only for the cards to catch fire, and out came a pair of doves that flew into the air, up and away.

You don’t think you’ve blinked since Lyney started his trick, which only left you more flabbergasted at the sudden turn of events. When he finally bows and places his hat back on his head, you fight the urge to inspect it once more for some magic pocket.

Collecting yourself, you clap for him, lips pulled into a true smile this time. Lyney’s gaze lingers on the way your eyes crinkle, and he crosses his arms behind his back as he peers at you expectantly.

“How was that?” Eager for your praise, Lyney blinks up at you with the ghost of a smirk. “Did I manage to steal your attention?”

“You certainly did.” Shaking your head, you bow with a hand atop your heart, playing along with his theatrics as you expressed defeat. “With a miracle right in front of me, it’d take a lot not to be in awe.”

A miracle, huh? There’s a twinkle in Lyney’s eyes that you can’t quite decipher. “If you enjoyed that, I’d be happy to perform for you again one day. Or if you’d like to attend one of my shows, I’ll be sure to reserve you a front row seat.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” While you’re very much interested in watching his performances, you didn’t want to feel like you were taking advantage of this encounter. Plus, you were technically here for work. “...But if I manage to get a ticket amongst your other fans, I’ll make sure to cheer the loudest so you’d know I was there.”

There’s a moment where Lyney seems like he’s about to laugh, but holds it back gracefully and nods at your proposal. “I’m sure that even without that, my eyes would be drawn to you all the same.”

What a flirt. “We never did talk about the prophecy, in the end.”

“I didn’t want to be just another passing survey to you.” Lyney shrugs, giving you a mischievous smile. “But if you’d like to meet up another time, I can certainly divulge what knowledge I have.”

“Was this part of your plan, too?” You joke. “Are all magicians the scheming type?”

“I was simply thinking on my feet.” You didn’t say no, which was enough to keep his spirits high. 

-

Suffice to say, when you returned to your room that night and finished writing up a report to give to Childe, the Harbinger was quick to ask you about the flower tucked into your hair.

A flower that you did not realize was there until Childe had pointed it out, asking if you met someone today.

Cheeks burning at the realization you’d not only walked around the entire city with this, but also that it was a Rainbow Rose associated with passion and romance. There was only one person that could’ve gotten close enough for this; Lyney.

So of course, in a very mature fashion, you swore to yourself to not let this go the next time you meet him. You wore the same rainbow rose as a brooch when you attended his show, which seemed to delight the magician greatly. After a few more encounters, you could say that the both of you were friends.

…Well, somewhere between all of that, you became aware that Lyney and his sister also belonged to the House of the Hearth, which functioned under the Knave. Your superior had an obvious dislike for his colleague, but you put that little fact behind you. (It wasn’t like a person’s superior defined who they were. If that were the case, were you supposed to be as battle-forward as Childe?)

But whether or not Lyney was aware you were also a Fatuus leaves room for guesswork, until one day, without your knowledge, he’d seen you in the distance - about to call out to you in his usual manner until he noticed your company.

It was part of his job to at least be aware of who the harbingers were, even if he didn’t have to know their histories down to a tee. And seeing you, obviously quite familiar with Childe, made a number of conflicting theories jumble in his head.

What was your relationship with the Harbinger? Did you know Childe’s true identity? Were you and him…

Thankfully, Aether was quick to clear up his worries when they ran into each other a few hours later, after noticing that Lyney seemed more distracted than usual. At their explanation of how you were Childe’s subordinate, your explanation of your job finally fell into place.

With one concern dealt with, another arose; if you worked closely with a harbinger feared on the battlefield, were you truly impressed by Lyney’s own tricks?

A part of Lyney’s pride sunk as he overcomplicates the matter in his head, covering his eyes as if to fight off a headache. “Aether, what do I do?”

“What do you mean?” Paimon asks in confusion. “Isn’t this a good thing? Since you’re both Fatui, you don’t have to worry about them being afraid of your history!”

“How can I impress a person that’s seen much more in their life than the average audience?” His words make little sense, but Aether fights back a laugh; this was simply Lyney’s slow acceptance of this newfound information. He must truly hold you in high regard to worry about impressing you. 

“Your magic tricks impressed us,” Aether reminds him. “And we’ve fought a lot of enemies, and gods, including Y/N’s superior.”

Paimon agrees. “Mmhm! And Y/N even apologized to us afterwards, telling us to go easy on Childe after he… ah… The point is, they're nice despite working for that troublesome guy. So… cheer up?”

“I saw them wearing a rainbow rose in their hair the other day.” Aether adds. “That was yours, wasn’t it?”

As if conjuring the image straight into his mind, Lyney’s now covering his face for an entirely different reason. “They’re wearing it?” God, his cheeks are burning.

Why is it that every time he thinks of you, just the memory of your smile is enough to make his brain malfunction?

‘Brother, you know I care about you, but aren’t you worried you’ll never get anywhere if you’re not straightforward about your intentions?’

Perhaps it was time to take Lynette’s advice… and as she’s told him before, there are some things that they don’t have to handle alone, so long as they involve the right people.

- 

When you’re assigned to do an errand with another Fatuus in Fontaine, you didn’t think much of it. While you were capable of fighting and exploring on your own, diving underwater in a foreign nation was probably not a good idea for you to tackle by yourself.

What you didn’t expect however, was for Lyney to be said Fatuus; and your brain immediately makes the link back to Childe’s unusual tone earlier, telling you to take your time while investigating the underwater ruins. (And also to get a cool souvenir for his siblings, if you saw one.)

You’re understandably nervous after Lyney explained how to breathe underwater, saying that once you get used to it, diving in is easy. He’s quick to notice your apprehension even as you steel yourself to jump, repeating to yourself that this was for work.

“...But for now, it would be discourteous of me to just throw you into the deep end.” Lyney’s gaze grows soft, offering you his hand. You take it, trying not to look too relieved that he’s simply leading you in by walking from the shore. “Close your eyes, hold on to me… Alright. You can open them now.”

It’s beautiful underwater, is the first thing that comes to mind.

Lyney watches you fondly as you take in the sea around you; colorful plants, sea creatures roaming, and the wonderful sparkle of sunlight sifting in from the sky.

“It’s breathtaking,” he voices your thoughts, though his gaze is on something else closer to him. Lyney clears his throat, swimming forward, still holding your hand. “While I can’t take credit for this, it is quite a magical sight, no?”

Now that you’ve calmed down, you notice the faint elemental energy emanating from the both of you. The way his hat still manages to stay intact makes the corner of your lips tug. “It is. Thank you for your help.”

You’re about to release his hand now that you’ve found your balance, but Lyney is quick to pout. “You don’t want to keep holding on to me?”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You laugh, untangling your fingers for the sake of practicality, then nudging his shoulder playfully before swimming off to explore. You can hear his chuckle from behind you as Lyney matches your speed, leading the way to the ruins which may hold clues about Fontaine’s fall.

It feels more like a rendezvous than a mission, to be honest. Lyney tells you stories about the times he and his siblings would come down here, and how Freminet was more familiar with diving, though he’s happy to be chosen to be here with you instead (at your poking, Lyney does admit that this might’ve been arranged with the help of one golden-haired traveler. You’ll have to thank Aether and Childe later on, you suppose.)

Your conversation falls short when your eyes land on an otter, immediately captivated by its cute form and the seashell between its paws. You try your best to maintain some professionalism, but it’s clear in the way you keep glancing back that you’d give anything to get closer and say hi.

With a gesture to get your attention, Lyney leads the way towards the otter, offering it a present to enter its good graces. It tilts its head at the romaritime flower in Lyney’s palm, which then begins to glow a warm amber from the inside with a gentle application of pyro.

Effectively charmed, the otter swims over curiously, making little noises as it flips around in excitement at the sight of the flower’s changing hues. It looked like a shifting sunrise, and you took the opportunity to perform a trick of your own using your vision, manipulating hydro to form tiny fishes that swam around the three of you.

How can Lyney put it… If it was possible to extend this period of time for an eternity, he’d be more than happy to live in this moment forever.

Underwater, there is no one to perform or keep facades for. And with you, a part of himself has always felt more at ease; as if it was fine to spend a moment not as the mystical magician he’s known and adored for. 

While he does enjoy seeing your eyes widen with awe at his magic, Lyney thinks it’s more dangerous for himself to become so relaxed in your presence. Just what would he do if he forgot to put his mask back on once you resurfaced, and the weight of water became too much for him to bear?

Maybe he can figure out a better way to memorialize this excursion; he’s heard quite a bit about preserving flowers in resin, so perhaps there’s also a way to add colors to the ornament to replicate underwater hues.

A few hours pass as you explore together, darting between shipwrecks and ruins, and the occasional battles with mechas or aggressive creatures. Somewhere along the fourth wave of mechanical enemies you were starting to wonder if Childe sent you to a dangerous spot on purpose to - as he might put it - ‘bond over battle’ and impress your crush.

While you certainly didn’t want Lyney to think you were useless in combat, every time you spearheaded an attack felt slightly performative as you destroyed the mechas. You felt like there was a gaze burning into your back. Not one of hidden assassins, but the magician who’d been oddly silent compared to his usual self; as if contemplating something. 

(It would take much provocation for Lyney to admit it was because you looked very cool, and he doesn’t know why he’s starting to get bashful about the way you expertly disposed of the enemies, vision singing with a wonderful glow. It’s almost like a dance - more graceful than violence was allowed to be.)

(In other words, he was trying not to speak unless he was sure his voice wouldn’t come off as unsteady, seeing as his mind was starting to blank at how attractively reliable you are.)

Perhaps if you were on land, Lyney might be quick to join in this little game of impressing one-another. But here, his arrows could only do so much. And while effective, pyro could not travel as far underwater compared to your element. 

He’s slowly realizing that without borrowing the abilities of hydro constructs around the ocean floor, he might’ve been fully assigned as the rescuable maiden in this situation.

While disenchanting, the thought also makes an idea spring into his mind. Before you could turn and tell him you were done gathering samples (and thus you could finally go back to the surface), Lyney casually tells you to hold on for a second, as there was something in your hair.

“Huh? But I didn’t feel anything—”

Surrounded by nothing but open space and marine treasures, Lyney steals your breath away with a kiss that ties a promise from his heart to your fingertips. He decided that so long as you were gracious enough to welcome his presence, he would fold to you like a flower opening its petals, enveloping you in his warmth whenever he could. 

Even with nothing to threaten you here, his hands snake around your waist and shoulder, pulling you closer as if to hide you from the light filtering from above; as if that would take you away from the illusions of magic that he so expertly crafts, for something more ‘real’.

It’s a kiss to tell you that this is real. This moment, the reasons behind his touch and glance, and the fact that he’d very willingly spend hours and hours at the bottom of the sea with you, no strings attached, without a complaint from his lips.

In fact, was it a little selfish for Lyney to enjoy monopolizing your attention in this way? Not having to fight against the bright colors and sounds of the beautiful court of Fontaine, with honest-but-lengthy endearments falling from his tongue as if stopping would mean one less second under your gaze?

You’d never once complained about his lack of talkativeness today, compared to his usual demeanor which presents himself like a spell to dazzle the senses. Never commented on his gestures that feel more gentle than luring; and though both parallels are true aspects of himself, he was starting to think you understood the grandiosity of his character. Lyney the Magician, who steals hearts and does the impossible.

Both statements were true, though perhaps in a more meaningful way now than in the eyes of the public. He can scarcely believe it himself whenever you return his affection, alert but not evasive of his approach.

A week later, a parcel arrives for you. It’s a glass orb with a rainbow rose at its center, with smaller pieces of romaritime petals surrounding it, like glitter falling on an angelic stage.

There are layered traces of pigment in the resin, reminding you of the day you spent underwater. Suppose it was largely successful of Lyney then, for your first thought to be that the rose reminded you of his charm. Not as a motif of allurement, but echoing the kind wishes behind his actions.

You always liked how the roses he’s made you associate with himself were not red, but pink. The latter suits him a lot more, in your humble opinion.

#lyney x reader #lyney genshin impact #lyney x you #genshin lyney x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin reader insert #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin writing #genshin scenarios #traveler wishes

[mandos-mind-trick]

F*** Diplomacy

Summary: On another relief mission, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Luckily there's a certain Commander to give you a hand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, sorta sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, grinding, clothed sex, growling, biting, brief blood, dirty talk, language, Wolffe being Wolffe, confession of feelings.

A/N: I wrote this in the bathroom during an IBS flare up so please forgive if it makes no sense. I am out of it like crazy but must share the smut with y'all because I have no self control.

MASTERLIST

You could laugh. You wouldn’t dare, though. Your sense of self-preservation is far too high to do something like that. 

It was no secret your commander hates relief missions. 

It's only natural your battalion was chosen to head another relief mission. You think Wolffe actually growled when the Generals ended the call. 

You know how much Wolffe hates relief missions. At least this time his favorite droid won't be going. There was no need for a protocol droid this time. You were delivering supplies and setting up shelters after a Separatist attack. The Republic needs the continued support of this particular planet due to its location near two critical hyperspace lanes, so you were going to help keep the Republic in good graces in the eyes of the inhabitants. 

You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission. 

The gruff commander wasn't exactly the most diplomatic, and you suppose that's why he'd grabbed you by the pack and hauled you onto the gunship with him and the rest of the Wolf Pack as you'd been loading up. 

It's also no secret you're the Wolf Pack's favorite medic. You had been graced with the sigil on your uniform not long after your reassignment to the 104th. You had been among the many medics shipped off to refill the ranks after the loss of most of the battalion. 

You'd been the one to hold Wolffe's head in your lap, staunching the bleeding after his unfortunate incident with the wrong end of a lightsaber. 

You'd been adopted into the Pack not long after, named their honorary medic despite your status as a civilian contractor. 

You tried not to blush as Wolffe all but lifted you into the gunship with one hand. You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring a small crush on your commander. It was hard not to crush on any of them, but the gruff commander held a special place in your heart. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as you comforted him after he lost his eye, or maybe it was the way he kept you close whenever you were going to potentially dangerous areas. You know he still feels the loss of his original battalion to this day. 

The gunship rattles as it takes off, your hand lifting to hold one of the handles to keep yourself steady. You don't get off the cruiser often, but you're always excited when you do. You've always wanted to travel, to visit places all over the galaxy. Maybe that's what led you to join the GAR. 

You certainly don't regret it, even if it is hard sometimes.

You can feel Wolffe's arm brushing your side as you sway with the movements of the gunship. You're sure your cheeks are red by now and you're glad your back is to the rest of the Pack. You'd never hear the end of it. 

Wolffe exits the ship first when it lands, offering you a hand to help you down. You take it, even though you could make it easily yourself. 

You jump right into helping, working with the other medics to get the tent set up and ready to start treating any wounded villagers. You'd love to be able to watch Wolffe's attempts at diplomacy, but you are here to do a job. Ogling your commander is not part of that. 

***

You're kept busy throughout the day. Most of the injuries you see are minor. Many bandages and bacta patches later, you finally take a break. One of the villagers offers you a cup of warm liquid and you accept, not having had much of a break to eat or drink anything. The liquid is sweet and slightly tangy, coating your mouth and throat as you drink it, but it’s not unpleasant. 

You finish the liquid before making your way through the village. 

You find Wolffe gathered around the fire with the village leaders. It's colder on the planet than you would have expected with the sun out. You slip in between Wolffe and Sinker, taking in the warmth of the fire. 

Wolffe glances down at you as you settle in beside him, before he turns his gaze back to the village leaders. 

You sit and listen to them talk, your mind starting to wander a bit. You can feel the warmth of the bodies beside you, almost more than the fire in front of you. Something begins to tingle under your skin, making your hair stand on end. 

One of the village leaders is staring at you, her face focused. She's been staring at you for a while, no emotion or expression in her gaze. The attention is making you a bit uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to hide behind Wolffe. 

You begin to warm, a cramping feeling starting in your stomach. You press a hand to your abdomen right below your belly button. Maybe you're more hungry than you thought.

The ache in your stomach continues, progressively getting worse. You couldn't possibly be sick. There were no unknown diseases on this planet you could have been exposed to. You had drank whatever it was that woman had given you. Maybe that was causing your distress. 

"Excuse me." You say quietly as you step away, slipping through buildings until you're on the edge of the village. 

You brace a hand against the side of one of the buildings as another cramp spasms in your stomach. The air no longer feels cold as your body warms. Maybe you are sick. 

You take a few steps into the trees, not wanting to be sick where someone might see you. You take deep breaths, screwing your eyes closed. The last thing you need is to be sick during a diplomatic mission. 

Your ears pick up a sound in the distance, your brows furrowing. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow the sound, walking through the trees.

You stop on the edge of a small clearing, your eyes widening. The woman that had given you the drink is pressed up against a tree, completely bare. There's a man behind her, snapping his hips into hers. Both of their eyes are closed, faces twisted in pleasure. 

Your face burns as you back away, breathing heavily. Kriff, you think. You had read something about this planet's mating seasons. The attack had happened right in the middle of one. 

Kriff. 

Your core throbs, your brain replaying the image of the man and woman over and over. The faces begin to shift, morphing into you and Wolffe. His hands gripping your hips, growling as he fucks into you. 

Oh kriff. 

You need to get on a gunship and back to the cruiser immediately. The drug could kill you if you're not careful. 

Your name is called, your eyes squeezing shut as you curse. Just who you don't want to see. You turn to him, probably looking as wild as you feel. Wide eyed, sweat dripping, legs trembling. Thank the maker he can't read your mind as he struts closer to you. 

You know he's big. You just know it. 

"Everything alright?" Wolffe asks, stopping a few feet in front of you. 

"I need to get to the med center on the cruiser." You say, voice shaking almost as much as your legs. 

He frowns, looking you over. "Are you sick?"

"I'm going to be." You murmur, swaying on your feet. 

You audibly whimper when Wolffe puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is so warm, the weight of it enough to send you spiraling into visions of him on top of you, those hands all over your body. You screw your eyes shut, not able to look at him anymore. 

"What's going on?" You can practically hear the growl in his voice. Slick floods your panties, soaking them right through. 

"It's mating season." You say, not brave enough to open your eyes. "They gave me an aphrodisiac." 

"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.

"This planet has mating seasons. They use aphrodisiacs to help. I drank one." You explain. "I didn't know what it was when she gave it to me."

His grip on your shoulder tightens, another whimper leaving your throat. You want him to squeeze your hips, your thighs, your ass. You want him to hold you so tightly he leaves bruises. You want him to sink his teeth into your throat and claim you as his-

You don't realize he's been talking. 

"I need help." You whimper. "I could die if I don't get something." The last word leaves you in a whine. You want a cock, you want Wolffe's cock inside you. 

"What can I do?" He asks. 

"I-I'm not in my right mind." You frown, eyes still closed. "I-I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that."

He steps closer. You can feel the warmth of him against your body. He's so close, his breath fanning your heated skin. "What if I want to."

You finally let your eyes open, your gaze meeting his. His brow is furrowed, gaze intense as he stares down at you. 

"Kriff, I've been waiting for you to ask me for a long time, mesh'la." He all but growls, the hand on your shoulder sliding down your arm. It leaves goosebumps in its wake, the fabric of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. "Do you know why I keep you so close to me?" He tilts his head, bending down closer to you. 

You lift up on your toes, shaking your head. "No, sir."

He does growl this time, the sound vibrating in his throat as he smirks. "It's because I keep hoping for the right moment to kiss you."

"All you had to do was ask." You murmur, closing the distance between you.

Your back hits a tree as your lips meet, his body pressing tight against yours. His hand lifts to your face, tugging on your chin until you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside, flicking it against yours. You moan into his mouth, the heat under your skin practically begging you to devour him. 

His hands slide down your body to your hips as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You taste blood, but you don't care as he presses his codpiece against your pelvis. You moan at the friction, grinding yourself against the hard plastoid. 

"Kriff, just like that, mesh'la." He groans. "Gonna cum just like that?"

You continue to grind against him, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, Wolffe!"

He smirks, letting you work yourself up desperately against him. "Good girl."

He lets you continue to grind against him, his hand slipping behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You whine, his touch almost painful but you don't care. 

"Gonna...gonna cum." You pant, desperately grinding against his codpiece. 

"Cum for me." He growls, pushing harder against you. 

Your head as you cum with a cry, hips jerking against his codpiece. You can feel the bulge under it, a promise of what's coming next. 

The heat under your skin abates for just a moment, your mind clearing enough for you to catch your breath. You taste blood as you lick your lips, staring up at Wolffe. 

"I need more." You gasp out, heart thumping wildly in your chest. "It won't be enough."

Wolffe bites the tip of his glove, tugging one off. He tucks it into his belt before his hand cups the spot between your legs. You're hot and damp under your uniform, slick dripping down your thighs. You need more, you need touch. 

You press your hips against his hand, desperate for more. He tugs your belt off dropping it in the grass. His hand slips under your waistband, rough fingers gliding through your slick folds. 

An absolutely primal noise leaves you as he finally touches you, more slick gushing out to coat his fingers.

He chuckles, fingers ghosting over your clit. "Such a needy little thing." 

"Please." You whimper. "Please. Need you so bad."

"What do you need, baby. Tell me." 

"Your cock." You whine, grinding against his hand desperately. "I need your cock inside me."

He pulls his hand from your pants, making you sob. "Ask politely. I am your commander, remember?"

You gulp, getting wetter as he stares down at you with that intense gaze. "Please, sir. I need your cock inside me."

He grins, stroking your cheek with his slick fingers. "That's my good girl." 

You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation. 

"Take it off." He growls, leaning in closer to your face.

You reach forward, pulling off his codpiece. You can feel the heat blooming under your skin again, your brain filling with fantasies of what's about to happen. You drop his codpiece in the grass, your hand rubbing the bulge in his blacks. He's so big, hard and pulsing against the fabric. 

You slip your hand in, closing your fingers around his cock. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him. You know you can't waste much time, though. You need to fix this problem and get back before the others start looking for you. 

You pull him free of his blacks, marveling at the size of him in your palm. You jerk him a couple times, letting your eyes lift back to his face. His gaze isn't soft or gentle by any means. It's...admiration, you think? Something not usually in his gaze when looking at others. 

"Take your pants off." He rasps, pushing your hand from his cock. He takes it in his own hand, jerking it as you work on tugging your pants down. 

You get one leg out before he pounces, gripping your thigh tightly to tug that leg around his waist. You lean back against the tree, holding his gaze as he drags his cock through your folds. 

You mewl needily, trying to push your hips closer to him. He finally takes pity on you, slipping his cock inside your pussy. You moan at the stretch, your body opening for him. You know it's the aphrodisiac doing most of the work, making your body well prepared for him without needing any extra stimulation or preparation. 

The feeling of his cock stretching you open forces the worry of any lingering side effects out of your mind. He pins you against the tree, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He pauses once he's inside you, letting out a groan. He lips brush your neck as he feels you pulse around him, body desperate for any sort of relief. You cling to his shoulders, his armor digging into your skin but you don't care. The pain only adds to the sensation, more wetness seeping out around his cock. 

"Making a mess of us and I haven't even started yet." He smirks. "You naughty little thing."

You whimper at his words, trying to grind your hips against him for any sort of relief. "Please, sir." You whine. "Please fuck me."

He nips at your neck, humming quietly. "Since you asked so nicely."

He draws his cock from your walls until just the tip is inside before slamming his hips forward, forcing his cock back inside. You gasp at the sensation, clinging to him as he repeats the motion, jolting your body with every thrust into you. 

The bark of the tree drags against your skin but you don't care. You'll worry about the discomfort later. All you care about is Wolffe and his cock inside you. 

"Harder." You gasp, threading your fingers in his hair. "Fuck me harder, please."

A groan rumbles in his chest as he draws his hips back before picking up the pace, fucking into you hard. You cling to him as he takes you roughly, hips slamming against yours. You'll have bruises but you don't care. 

"So kriffing good." He groans, panting into your neck. "So tight and hot. Such good pussy, baby. All for me. All mine." 

"Yours." You gasp, hardly able to form words from the pleasure rushing through your body. "Only yours." 

"Gonna cum for me?" He asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your clit. "Gonna cum around my cock?"

You cry out his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, walls spasming around him as pleasure burns through your veins, nearly whiting out your vision. 

His hips stutter, a growl rumbling through his chest as he cums, hips slamming into yours as he fills your pussy. 

You're gasping for breath, still clinging to him as you come down from your high. 

"Fuck, babe." He groans, pulling back just slightly. The front of his armor and his blacks are soaked. 

"Oh kriff." You breathe. You can still feel the heat lingering under your skin. 

Wolffe pulls himself free of you, tucking himself back unto his blacks. "Made a big mess of us, didn't you?"

You nod, legs shaking as you try to stand on them. He chuckles, helping you back into your pants, putting your belt back on before his codpiece. 

"Come on, mesh'la." He says, scooping you into his arms. "Let's get you back to the ship." 

"But what about the mission?" You ask, resting your head on his shoulder. 

"Fuck diplomacy." He says, carrying you back to the gunships. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #the dark side fic

[sailorgreywolf-german]

Me, explaining how much of a shame it is that Roderich doesn't have white as his signature color in canon or in much fanart, despite it historically being the color of Austrian army uniforms, because putting him in white would also have the symbolism of making him bride-coded, alluding to marriage as his favorite diplomatic strategy:

#hws austria #don't ask me for Roderich thoughts unless you want a lot of detail #the rest of this rant is how the impracticality of it all fits him #bright white on the battlefield #ornamental and meant to project power instead of being practical in battle

[slightlymore]

the neighbour

bangchan x fem reader

genre: neighbours!au, slow burn, smut!!!!, romance, tiny angst, some fluff moments, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, dual perspective 

content/warnings: +18, solo m, solo f, accidental auditory voyeurism (auralism), toys solo f, lots of dirty thoughts, lots of dirty talks, raw, oral f, oral m + deepthroating + swallowing/facial, manhandling, multiple orgasms both, body worshipping, praise kink, light degradation, edging both, begging both, thigh riding, finger sucking, hand necklace, hair pulling both, biting both, spanking, mirrors, fingering, titty and nipple play, cum play, creampie, spit, overstimulation both, aftercare + they’re both lowkey perverts sksk

words: 14k

___

When he heard the first noise, Chris sighed deeply, puffing his cheeks before releasing the air. He considered himself lucky to not have had a neighbour for the longest time - not because he was worried of them being annoying - he just liked the freedom of being the only one on that building floor. 

And when he heard the second noise and the buzz of many people talking, he knew he had to go outside and check on who was in the middle of moving in. 

Not because he was nosy (he was) but because he wanted to understand the kind of person (or worse, family with children? god) was moving in. Also maybe they needed help (he wasn’t actually going to help, he was just a Libra and a people pleaser). 

“Hey-ya” he nodded once at some uniformed men, carrying boxes upon boxes into the next door apartment. The men tipped their little hats as a greeting and Chris leaned on the door frame with arms crossed on his chest. He was a good diplomat. He was a great diplomat even. No. A spy. And he was sure he’d get all the information he wanted out of them. 

He opened his mouth to start with the first of the questions when a voice blocked the words in his throat. 

“Be extra careful with that one box, please. It’s fragile.” 

Chris had to start from the bottom. 

No, his eyes did a quick look at everything but then he thought he must start again from the bottom. 

And slowly. 

He stared at your shoes. Heels. Not too tall, not too short. Pointy and black. Classic. Then your ankles. God, he loved ankles. No hosiery although it was pretty cold. Did you care too much about fashion? Or not enough? God, he loved legs too. Pencil skirt. A bit outdated but it worked. Shirt and blazer? Office worker. 9-5 person. Fuck, he definitely had to stop blasting his music at night. Unbuttoned shirt. Daring. God, he loved necks. Wait, wait. Hands? Hand. Left hand. No rings. No partners or children? Maybe. Single mom? Could be. Career woman? Perhaps even worse - full or rules. 

“Are you going to keep staring or will you finally turn around, go inside, and mind your own business?” 

The voice returned and Chris had to finally analyze the lips. God, he loved li-

“I’m being serious,” you added. 

Chris cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi. I noticed you’re moving in.” 

You let your eyes drape over his body, from his nude toes (you made some kind of face and Chris felt really self conscious about his toes for a moment there), then his thighs (he shivered), and when you lifted one eyebrow he felt completely naked. 

“Alright, I get it. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at,” he fought the urge to cover his crotch in the damn grey sweats he chose for the day. 

“Yes, I am moving in. Congratulations, you have eyes,” you made a little smile. Those types of smiles you do when you hate someone and you kinda want them to notice but not too much. 

Chris let out a dry chuckle in the form of air from the nose. “Thanks. Do you need any help?” 

You were going to say no. You were definitely going to say no. Not only you had a whole minions squad to move in for you, but you also looked like the type of person to refuse help altogether. 

“Actually,” you leaned towards the wall and Chris followed your movement as you grabbed a square soft-looking bag-box thing with both arms and handed it to him. 

“Could you please take Nyx in for a few hours? She’s scared of all the noise.” 

Chris silently took the bag-box and looked inside. 

“It’s a cat,” he said, one beat before realizing again he was sounding a bit stupid. 

“Do you always say at loud everything that goes on in your-” 

“Don’t finish that,” he interrupted you. 

You closed your mouth with a little smile. 

Chris looked at the cat again. It was black with gorgeous green eyes. 

“Hello?” he tried.

The kitty hissed and Chris impercetibly jolted in place, blinking a few times. 

“It means she likes you,” you explained. 

“Oh, really? Like owner like cat, I guess,” he gave you another glance. 

Your eyelids dropped at the comparison as if a bit annoyed but not surprised. The glint of amusement didn’t disappear from your eyes though, so Chris was glad to understand he didn’t particularly cross any boundary. Besides staring at your legs. 

“She doesn’t bite by the way. No worries.” 

“I don’t mind a little kitty scratch,” Chris replied. 

You stared him down for the second time, as if that information renewed your curiosity about him. Or maybe you were just making sure if he actually looked like able to survive a cat attack or not. Or handle your scratches. 

“Can I pet her? Your kitty,” he asked. 

Your gaze went back to his face. The little innuendo banter didn’t go unnoticed to you. He wondered if that was going to be the boundary that would make you snap. 

“Too early. She needs time to warm up to you,” you simply said. 

Chris nodded. “Of course.” 

He went inside and placed the kitty near the living room window to have both sun and shade. Not that cats were plants by any means, but he never owned one. 

Then he realized he didn’t even ask your name or get any kind of information as he planned. 

Maybe he wasn’t that good of a diplomat as he thought. 

___

You sat down on the plastic covered couch as the last man exited the apartment and you stared at the myriad of boxes in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, one hand to rub at your temples. You wished you could still have the keys to your old place for the night. You weren’t in the mood to make your bed. Maybe you were going to sleep on the couch, still dressed and makeup on and stuff. 

Then you remembered Nyx. 

The neighbour opened the door after a few seconds. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Figured it was you.” 

“Hey,” you said back, a bit awkwardly crossing your arms on your chest. “Thank you for taking care of Nyx,” you added. 

The man took a step back as to invite you in. “It was honestly a pleasure. I realized I really enjoy cats.” 

You thought for a second if you should actually get in or just ask him to go grab her and leave. But then you saw Nyx sprawled on his couch, paws in the air and all, and a smile bloomed on your face. 

“You should not have let her out. She probably left so much hair around,” you took of your heels and walked towards her. His living room rug felt very soft under your toes and you made a mental note to ask him where he got it so you could plagiarize the choice. 

The man closed the door behind you and walked the same route, sitting on the couch arm and staring at Nyx with a genuinely fond smile. 

“I do not mind hair at all.” 

You knew he didn’t mean it in a dirty innuendo way that time. 

Nyx purred happily against your hand as you pet her. “Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered. 

“Wait, stay. I am in the middle of making dinner. I’m sure you got nothing to eat today,” the man got back on his feet and indicated towards the kitchen. 

You got up from the crouching position. “Thank you. But I was thinking I could order something. It’s fine.” 

He bit his lower lip as if wondering if your refusal was politeness or if you hated him and wanted to just go home. You realized he was lowkey cute conflicted that way and you chuckled. 

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, the smile already blooming on his face as well. 

“What are you making?” you ignored him. “Chicken breast and rice?” 

The man smiled again with a hum. “Oh, so you think I look fit although that comment feels a bit insulting.” 

You chuckled again shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Well, it’s not chicken breast tonight but if you want that come over any meal of the day besides Friday night and I’ll probably serve you that,” he continued. 

“Okay, noted. We’ll see each other only on Friday nights.”

“It’s noodle soup,” he finally answered. “And I think it’s ready.” 

You watched his large shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen to check on it. 

___

Your silence told Chris that you considered noodle soup a decent meal and he hoped it was decent. He wasn’t a great cook but his food was alright enough to not make him die and for the longest time he thought that was a decent level of skill. Now, seeing the spoon inching towards your mouth he really wanted the food to actually taste good. 

“You don’t have to stare at me like that. I won’t die,” you lifted your gaze on him. 

Chris exhaled at the tension. “I’m just worried.” 

You smiled. “I can see that. I’m sure it’s more than okay.” 

The reassurance didn’t help ease his nervousness. 

He lifted one eyebrow, teeth gritting as he stared at the way you gently slurped on the soup then had a mouthful of noodles right after. 

Your cheeks puffed a little as you chewed and the view made him smile for a moment before he remembered you were about to communicate your review. He got nervous again.

You swallowed and nodded. “Good.” 

Chris blinked. “Good?” 

You hummed. 

“That’s it?”

You scoffed incredulous.

“I’m joking I’m joking,” he chuckled and grabbed his own chopsticks. 

It went quiet for the next moments but Chris didn’t feel awkward. Nyx was rubbing herself on both of your calves and the way your eyes would soften looking down at her, with that little eyebrow lift and the sweet voice made Chris feel some type of way. 

“Thank you for the meal and taking care of her,” you said and Chris waved his hand as his mouth was full. 

“No need to thank me,” he replied after gulping. 

“What’s your favourite food?” you asked after some more silence. Small talk huh?

Chris looked towards an imaginary point, thinking. “I like pretty much anything.” 

“Okay, then next Friday you’ll eat whatever I’ll give you.”

He locked eyes with you as you reached for the glass of water and had a sip. The silence engulfed you again. 

God, he felt like leaning on the table and biting your lower lip with his teeth and he didn’t even know your name. 

___

The following days passed quickly as you worked full time and came home to a disastrous apartment still filled with boxes. You could swear you’d get rid of 10 and 20 appeared in their place. 

You were sighing, absentmindedly rubbing your lower back while the other arm was trying to carry a few flat packed boxes you managed to empty that evening. 

You weren’t sure of the time but the young woman walking towards your neighbour’s door in what seemed like a night booty call told you it was probably pretty late. She was gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look away and close your mouth as she gave you a small smiling nod, passing you by and engulfing you in a dizzying perfume. You walked quickly towards the elevator in your indoors duck slippers, not in the mood to make eye contact with the man who took care of your kitty (actual cat) and fed you last week as he’d open the door to let the woman in. 

It was Thursday and you realized with a certain degree of embarassment that you have been looking forward the Firday night dinner since the moment you left his apartment after that noodle soup date. 

You couldn’t understand why the sight of that woman could make you feel that uneasy and you hated yourself for the speed of your brain trying to make up excuses as to why suddenly you wouldn’t be free anymore the following day. 

When you came back up the woman was presumably inside already, probably sipping some fancy wine from a fancy glass with toes in the fancy carpet the man had - that apartment complex was for wealthy people, you weren’t stupid to guess the neighbour man was pretty well off as well - or perhaps already bent over the same table you sat at the previous week. 

The quiet of your apartment got disrupted by a single thud, like something falling on the ground, or well, a bed frame hitting the wall as someone throws themselves on it - or gets thrown. 

Suddenly you felt like wearing your coat and shoes, and after giving Nyx a little head kiss, you exited the apartment again for a weird urge to buy a night snack from the corner shop. 

___

“Working this late?”

A deep voice made you snap your head upwards, your fingers stopped in front of the door pad as you were about to type your password. 

The neighbour was bringing out dirty laundry, you realized, and you wondered if he intended to wash the bedding right after the woman left. The thought was a bit ridiculous and it put you in a bit of a better mood. 

“No. I went out for a corner shop trip,” you explained and the man blinked as if finally realizing you were wearing pajama pants under your coat and your hair didn’t look work appropriate. The plastic bag in your hand was also still full of the snacks you didn’t have any appetite to eat while counting minutes sitting at the white and cheap tables outside the shop wondering how come time goes by fast when you have sex but it’s so slow when others have sex. 

“Got any good snacks?” he asked just to fill in the silence, you figured. 

You hummed as a reply. “Laundry this late?” you asked in return. 

The man looked down at the basket in his arms as if he forgot he was was carrying it. “Oh. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get productive instead.” 

Good excuse, you gave him that. 

“Well, have fun, then,” you pushed the front door in, waving a hand. The man gave you a little square smile, making his dimples pop. “Good snacking.” 

You closed the door then for some reason turned around, staring at him through the peephole as he walked towards the elevator. 

___

Chris loaded the washing machine with an empty head. He didn’t think much about the one night stand. It has been a normal, not the best, but satisfactory one night stand. Just the usual. He’d normally work a bit or go to sleep after the person would leave - this time he was doing laundry. All standard stuff. 

But then he saw you and he felt a weird lump in his throat, as if he got caught red handed. 

Maybe it was because his date left minutes prior and he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe it was your nighttime look, the youthful but tired expression on your face with no make-up on, or maybe the sleepy eyes you had. 

Or maybe it was the impression that you left your house on purpose. 

He couldn’t recall if he made the woman loud enough for you to hear anything and his bed technically should not creak, but he wasn’t fully sure because he was too - well, busy - to analyse that in the moment. 

He scratched his head, staring at the way the washing machine slowly started to hum. 

___

You wanted to pretend like you somehow forgot about the dinner. 

Of course, you didn’t. And honestly it would have been rude to. 

Somehow you were hoping that he forgot about it. 

It was a random invitation anyway, a joke. You didn’t give him a specific time frame. He didn’t even confirm that he’d come. 

Somehow you were hoping that he didn’t forget about it. 

And if he did, should you just go and knock on his door to say hey so are you coming over or what?

You shook your head, stirring the pasta sauce with a shiver down your spine. That would be- it would be- you couldn’t even think of a proper word for that feeling. Somewhat along the lines of humiliating. 

Or would that be cool? Just knock knock hey, I have dinner. 

You sighed, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan before placing it down on a plate. 

Why were you getting so worked up over a damn dinner with some random neighbour? 

What if he had plans Friday night, anyway? He looked like he could be a busy and sociable man. 

You sighed again, looking around the apartment which you deep cleaned. Then you stared at the abundant portion of pasta boiling gently. 

God, you didn’t even know his name. 

___

Chris looked in the mirror hung near the entrance door for the last time. He felt stupid. And his hair wasn’t cooperating. 

He wondered if you’d think he only wears the same black shirt all the time so he wore a black shirt with a different logo to convey the message that he changes clothes like a normal human being. Not that it mattered. 

He was ashamed to admit that he has been lowkey pacing the apartment for a bit that day, brainstorming solutions for the weird up in the air dinner invitation. He should have asked for confirmation last night. 

What if it was a mere joke? A random polite made up phrase in the let’s go out for coffee sometime category? 

But what if you were waiting for him? He needed a back up plan in case he showed up and you’d blankly stare at him with no dinner prepared. 

He felt very stupid. 

And he was glad you couldn’t see the way he jumped in place and felt his heart fall down to his ass when he heard the doorbell. 

“Hey,” he opened. 

“Hello,” you lifted your gaze. 

Were you a bit- nervous? 

“I came by just in case you forgot- well, not that you’d forget, but just in case I wasn’t clear enough about the dinner invitation, but, of course, if you made other plans in the meantime and you’re not free anymore or if you’ve already eaten then-”

“I was on my way to come over,” he gently interrupted your rambling. You unclasped your hands and put them behind your back at that information. You relaxed. 

“Oh,” you smiled, “well, then. I made pasta. Hope it’s okay.” 

___

“Hello, baby,” the neighbour giggled entering your apartment. He placed the wine bottle he prepared - sign he really didn’t forget, you were relieved to notice - on the floor and knelt down as Nyx lazily strutted towards him and rubbed her head then back on his hand. “I really missed you.” 

You walked towards the kitchen to grab the food. 

“You can come over and see her whenever you want to. I somehow feel like she missed you too.” 

The man got up and walked the distance towards the arranged table, placing the bottle on it. “Did she?” 

His tone was low and you wondered if he talked like that to his last night date. Or maybe he could do worse? More? How deep could his voice go? 

“Yeah. I guess you have good vibes,” you complimented him. 

He eyed the pasta you were carrying and he whistled impressed. 

“Definitely better than my noodle soup.” 

“Well, let’s see about that,” you gave him a look. 

“You don’t seem like you’re bad at something,” he watched you serve him while sitting down. 

“Perhaps this is the only thing I’m bad at,” you murmured back. 

For some reason, maybe the ambient lights, or the closeness of your plates, maybe the way the shadows on his face looked accentuating his jaw, or maybe his gaze, compelled you to talk softly. 

The neighbour liked your reply and gave you a smile, those languid smiles with one corner lifted more than the other. 

You served yourself and sat down. 

Your gazes met again and that was his cue to taste and review. You could understand why he was nervous last week. 

“Hmmm,” he simply replied after a long long chewing moment. 

You lifted one eyebrow. “Hmmm?” 

He chuckled. “You must be so curious to know. I want to keep you waiting some more. It’s fun.” 

You scoffed amused, taking a sip of water. “Well, I won’t beg for any comment, if that’s your plan.” 

Did he do this with his date too? Edging her as she looked eager for a single touch? Or did he edge her when she was about to orgasm in his arms? Did she beg? Was he capable of making a woman beg?

Well, you were close to say please is this good or not I’m going to go insane, any moment now so probably he was more than capable of doing that. 

“It’s very good,” he finally said with a proud expression, seeing your shaking and annoyed leg under the table. “I really like it.” 

“Hmmm,” you weren’t fully pleased, but you tasted the pasta too and you let the smile bloomed on your lips warm up the space between you. 

___

It was a bit too spicy for him, Chris realized after eating half the plate. But he wasn’t just going to back away. Maybe that was a test. Do you only entertain men who can handle the spice? Well, he was going to finish the plate and ask for more.

“Your apartment is coming up nicely,” he commented after a moment of silence. The bottle was almost empty and he really liked the light in your eyes because of the glass you were sipping from. 

You looked around as if staring at it from his perspective. “Still a long way to go but I am pleased with it so far.” 

“It’s curious. We have specular apartments.” 

Chris made a mental note to remember that you were probably sleeping head to head. Maybe he was too loud last night. Did you mind? Was the noise bothersome? Did you even hear? Somehow he wished you did. 

“I met with your girlfriend last night in the corridor,” you casually thew it out there as if reading his mind. 

So you met. 

He knew that you knew she wasn’t his girlfriend. You just wanted confirmation, didn’t you? 

It made his fingers tingle. He had a sip of his wine. 

“Did you talk?” he simply asked. 

He felt a bit cruel seeing the faint shadow of something in your eyes. And he felt even more cruel because he loved it. 

“No, just said hi.” You had a sip of your wine. 

Should he drag it some more?

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chris finally said. 

___

The relief that washed over you made you cringe. You pretended to be a bit surprised. Not too much. A bit disinterested. Neutral. 

“Oh,” you just said, unsure of how people replied to something like that. Questions roamed your head? Why not? Do you have another person you’re interested in? Are you too busy for a committed relationship? Was she not your type? Are you still not over your ex? Are you some kind of fuckboy?

But none felt appropriate. 

“Do you have a partner?” 

He took you by surprise. “No,” you replied. “I am too busy I guess.” 

The neighbour leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily making the glass leg roll. 

“Can I ask what you do?” 

You rested your face in your palm. “You can ask me whatever you want.” 

The man smiled. 

“I’m an Executive Director,” you continued. 

He smiled more widely. “Of course you are.” 

“What does that mean?” you leaned in with a giggle. 

The man shrugged. “You said you wouldn’t beg. Also you look like someone who doesn’t take orders, you give them.” 

You relaxed in your chair as well, arms thoughtfully crossed on your chest, taking in the information. You were sure you didn’t look like that but you accepted the compliment. 

“Also, you live in this luxury apartment complex,” he added as if that could make his reasoning more rational and less rooted in his will to compliment you. 

You nodded with an amused expression. “Well, and what do you do? Since you also live in this apartment complex?” 

The man stretched his arms and back. “I’m self employed.” 

You tilted your head to the side waiting for more information.

“I’m just a music producer.” 

Somehow it wasn’t surprising. You nodded. “Why ‘just’? That’s very impressive.” 

“Well, it’s not more impressive than your job,” he replied. 

“Knowing the C major scale is already very impressive, what are you talking about?” 

The neighbour blinked a few times then gently threw his head back in a bright laugh. You stared at his closed eyes. Then his perfect teeth. Then his dimples and the earrings shaking a bit in his ears. His neck was extended and it just exposed further the chicken and rice body he was farming. Gorgeous, although it made you a little sad and you hoped he was eating well. Not that you cared for a stranger. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care-

He opened his eyes again and your gazes met. 

You didn’t care? 

___

Chris was confused. He discovered everything he initially needed for his nosy spirit. But somehow it wasn’t enough and with every question he asked, a new question came to mind. Your family? Siblings? How old is Nyx? Did you have other pets before? Why did you move? What did you study? 

You were polite and answered each and every one of them, exchanging the favour of asking him the same back. How long has he been producing? Was it hard? Are his songs popular? Oh, you probably heard some of them around? No way, you made that song?? 

Chris was very confused, especially since it was very late and he was exhausted, yet he didn’t want to move his ass from the damn chair and go home. 

But then you hid a little yawn and he realized he should probably just go. He thanked you again for the dinner. Should he ask you out for the next Friday?

But you perhaps just wanted to repay him the favour. Booking you for three Fridays in a row would have been too much, he figured. You looked like a busy and sociable woman. 

He was outside your door and you smiled at him seeing him out although he only had to take a few steps towards his own apartment. 

“Well, goodnight-” he kept that phrase suspended. 

You blinked at him.

“Y/N,” you finally said with a little smile.

He repeated your name. 

“Goodnight-” you replied. 

“Chris,” he added. 

“Goodnight Chris.” 

___

Chris felt like a pervert. No, worse. He felt like a stalker. Was it weird that he memorized the time you’d go to work and the time you came back? He didn’t try to, for real. It just happened. He’d hear your morning alarm at 7am and the way your shower ran ten minutes afterwards. Then a pause, he figured you prepared breakfast and got dressed. Then the sound of your hairdryer or whatever you did to your hair, he wasn’t fully sure. Then another pause. He liked to imagine you were putting on some makeup. His 7am brain has been busy imagining you putting on bright red lipstick, gently bent over your sink to see yourself better in the mirror, although he fully knew you would never wear that kind of lipstick to work. 

Then the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud bang, you were considerate, but Chris had good hearing. 

He’d sleep late in the mornings usually. But your routine influenced him. So his routine became waking up at 7am with you, listen to your movements, then after you’d be gone, he’d also get up and go about his day. 

Was this normal neighbour behaviour? He wasn’t sure. He’s never had one before you. 

During the day he wouldn’t think of you at all. Maybe once in a while. 

And then he’d hear the sound of your door opening and closing. Nyx’s meow as she’d welcome you and your muffled far away baby talk, probably calling her my love and other nicknames Chris low-key wanted to hear directed at himself. 

He wouldn’t listen to you after that, he was a busy man afterwards, and he didn’t want to be a full-on creep.

But he knew you’d get in bed at around 10pm so he started to go as well. Not to sleep, he could hear the sound of the Tik Toks you were watching or the movie you’d put on. Sometimes it would be silent and he was dying of curiousity to know what were you doing. Reading? Puzzles? Listening to music over earphones? 

One night it was particularly quiet, maybe you fell asleep, and Chris was about to grab his laptop and do some work when he heard a low buzz. 

It was so faint that the wondered if he was just imagining it. Maybe his dirty mind was just trying to fill in his brain with images of what he’d secretly desire you to be doing. But no, it was there. He fought the urge to place his ear on the wall like a total loser and ignored it for the night, blasting music in his ears instead. 

But then it happened again the following night and Chris sighed, heat travelling down his abdomen. He scratched his ear then nape. Then he huffed, closing the laptop and putting it on the side. He didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t push himself to not listen either. He was just curious, he told himself. Also, it wasn’t his fault you were masturbating in the head to head bedrooms you guys had and it wasn’t his fault that the walls weren’t particularly thick for a luxury apartment complex. 

But he wasn’t curious only about the buzz. 

Well, yes. He wondered what kind of toy could that be. Was it small? Was it internal or external? Was it a vibrating dildo or a clit sucking device? 

But no, not really. He was more curious about the sounds you’d make. Were you a noisy person? Would you be loud or muffle your voice into the pillow? What position were you in? 

God, he felt like a pervert. It wasn’t his fault you were masturbating but it was his fault for listening like that and imagining. 

He reached for the headphones when the first noise arrived. He froze, fingers in mid air. 

The noises increased in number and volume. Whimpers and moans. 

He let his hand fall on the bed and he dug the nails into the covers ever so slightly. 

He blinked, eyes towards the ceiling, your eyes probably rolled back in your head. Was that good? You were probably swallowing that toy so well, all wet and warm. He exhaled. 

Like a reply, you kept moaning. He shivered, a single shiver coming from his toes up his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened again. 

It was no surprise that he was hard. He wasn’t particularly dressed either so he couldn’t even lie to himself and say that he didn’t notice. 

“Shit,” he mumbled out loud, passing one hand in his dark curls, then on his face. It stopped on his chest, where it buzzed with self restraintful force. 

No, he wasn’t going to rub one out to the sound of his neighbour. He was not going to do that. 

But you sounded so good although muffled, and the universe gifted him with too much imagination for his own good. His hand moved on its own on his flinching stomach going over the short trimmed hair and he exhaled as if he has not been breathing for the past minutes.

Oh, it felt better than usual. He was way past teenage years but with the way the precum leaked on his fingers, the thumb collecting it, he felt like a virgin masturbating for the first time. His adam apple traveled up and down his throat and he closed his eyes, pushing the head into the pillow, trying to pace the movement of his hand with the rhythm of your moans. He’s never felt dirtier and it went so quick to his head that he didn’t need much. With a groan then a higher pitched whimper he came messily on his stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Your moans increased in the same moment and Chris thought he was going to go insane, imagining you sprawled and shaking because of your own orgasm. 

If he came so quickly like that, what was he going to do if you were in his arms?

___

It has been a few horny days, you realized as your hand automatically reached for he drawer on your right. Then you stopped. You felt a bit tired of your toys and that month’s ovulation felt too intense for you to keep using them. 

Somehow, well, somehow you wanted the real deal. Should you go out? Go back on Tinder? 

You sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, eyebrows furrowed staring at the ceiling. 

Fuck it, you got up, throwing the duvet on one side. 

It has been too long since you went outside or dressed up. Hell, it has been too long since you actually fucked someone, and although you mastered your own shit down to a notch, you really missed human contact. Perhaps you were very lonely and not even that horny. 

The dress was on, heels were worn, hair done and your girlfriends complimented your makeup. The night seemed promising. 

The man you eyed a few hours into the night wasn’t that bad either. Decent height, good breath, normal man cologne, and the alcohol in your system did the rest. You didn’t even need to hear him talk or anything. You brought him home and got down to business. 

You tried, really.

And the poor dude probably also tried a lot.

But nothing could beat the way you felt on your own, thinking about your neighbour Chris with a toy buried deep inside of you pretending it was him. 

___

Chris decided he wasn’t going to be creepy that night. He wondered what was going on in your life to make you masturbate that much every night. It was completely normal but he usually masturbated mostly because of stress so he couldn’t help but ask himself if you were also very stressed or if the job was talking a toll on you. 

Maybe he could go over and check, maybe with the excuse to see Nyx. The evil part inside of him wanted to go over the moment you started to touch yourself, just so he could interrupt and force you to come to the door, maybe all heated up, maybe a bit pissed at him. He wanted to see your annoyed expression at the fact you couldn’t finish. He wanted you to be so pissed and horny to just slam him into the damn door and find relief through his body. Chris didn’t want anything back. He could have just watched the way you sit on his thigh and ride it, head thrown back and your nails digging into his shoulders. He could be completely content just to stare at the way your breasts moved gently, not as hard as if you were to ride his cock, but almost. He really wanted to see your frustratred expression as rocking on his thigh would not be enough for you so you’d stare at him frantically, begging with your eyes for more, because you’d never beg with your words. Chris would pretend he doesn’t understand just to see you even more impatient. Even more eager. Perhaps he could drive you to the point of pushing him down the couch and sitting on his face. 

The slam against the wall made him open his eyes. That wasn’t a familiar sound. The second thud made his lift one eyebrow. Were you renovating the bedroom? 

But then a male grunt made his boiling blood chill in one second. 

You had guests. 

You had guests who were probably slamming into you given the sheer intensity of your sudden moans. 

___

“Busy and enjoyable night?” 

You looked to your right where a man was loading his own washing mashine. He wasn’t looking at you but no one was around so you knew he was talking to you. You took a moment to stare at his profile, the perfect flinching jaw muscle the only detail showing his emotions, whatever they were, on his otherwise calm face. 

“I guess you can say so,” you answered, a bit embarassed. “Was I too noisy?” 

“I wasn’t sleeping so I didn’t mind the noise,” Chris finally looked at you. He was very casual about it. 

“The fact you were awake,” you threw some other clothes in the washing machine, “makes it all somehow worse. I am sorry you had to hear all that.” You hoped he didn’t see the bed sheets you were washing but if he heard you the whole night it was probably useless to hide it. 

You gave him a small smile and he imitated you. You looked as if exchanging opinions on the weather instead of commenting on your one night stand. 

“I was working, so big loud earphones on. Didn’t hear much.” 

Although he made sure to say that, you couldn’t fully trust him. The way he even started that conversation in the first place instead of pretending to not have heard anything, as it would have been polite to, was as if he wanted you to know he heard. 

But instead of feeling shame, the situation just made your blood run faster. He heard you. He heard your moans. Was he even a bit turned on? Or maybe just pissed because you ruined his night? 

“To answer your full question, busy yes, enjoyable?” you trailed off, closing the washing mashine and staring at the way the clothes started to lazily twirl around. 

“not much,” you finished. 

Chris was also done and he was grabbing the hamper. His eyes looked like two cuts under his curly fringe. You wondered if his hair was soft as it looked. The dude’s hair wasn’t that soft and when he went down on you and you grabbed it, your mind couldn’t help but imagine Chris’ curls instead. 

He was waiting for more information. 

“Didn’t make me cum once,” you shrugged and didn’t give him any time to comment on it, leaving for the stairs instead. 

___

Chris turned his head to watch your back disappear behind the corner. His gaze trailed down on your ass then legs. 

He exhaled through his nose. 

Why was he annoyed? 

Because you fucked someone? Or because you didn’t get fucked well enough the way you deserved? 

Your perfume was lingering in the air as he made his way up on the stairs as well and he waited the same elevator you took. The image of you getting railed into the mattress didn’t leave his mind for a minute since last night. But he knew that no fantasy of his could get close to reality, seeing you in your skimmy pajamas that morning. Your hair, the exposed delicate skin, the curve of your neck, your lazy amused voice. 

Chris gulped once as he entered the elevator. He pictured taking you against that wall. Or maybe, against the damn mirror, so you could see your expression as your knees would give up from the sheer intensity of the orgasm he’d give you. 

But he couldn’t fully blame the guy. Chris wasn’t that confident either and he was sure no man could prevent cumming in his pants in seconds if you were sprawled on the bed underneath him. 

What the guy had to be blamed for is that he had the opportunity to pleasure the most incredible woman Chris knew, and he failed completely. 

He was sure you won’t see him again, but if the dude came around the second time Chris thought he could break his fingers, that way maybe he could remind him they exist and can be used. 

He exhaled through his nose again when the elevator communicated with a ding that it arrived on the right floor. 

You were waiting for him and Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, before walking up to you. 

His gaze fell on the plate your were holding. 

“Made some pie,” you smiled. Your eyes were shining a bit. If that was your expression when embarrassed then he really wanted to find ways to make you shy again. 

“Take it as a token of my sorry I made you listen to me moan at 2am,” you added. 

“You really don’t have to feel sorry about it,” Chris smiled back but he really wanted the plate, the hamper down at his feet already to free his hands.

“Well, you clearly wanted something from me by mentioning it,” your eyes shone again. Yes, that was your embarrassed expression, but there was something more to you, he realized. Malice. 

Chris didn’t confirm nor denied. “I will enjoy it, thank you,” he simply replied, your fingers touching as he grabbed the pie. Your hands were a bit cold and a shiver went down his spine, imagining those fingers trailing down his body until they would warm up on his skin. 

“I hope you do,” you said then turned around, disappearing behind your apartment door. 

Chris put down the pie on his kitchen table then looked down at his hand which was still faintly burning from your cold touch. 

He hummed and closed his eyes, sliding it under his waistband. He fucked his fist harder and rougher than usual. 

___

You realized finding human contact wasn’t that satisfactory after all, so you huffed that night and after a short tik tok trip you reached for your drawer. 

Then you changed your mind. Could you just do with manual that night? It would take more time but you somehow were in the mood to be a bit frustrated physically so that the emotional frustration could be drowned instead. 

You relaxed into your pillow and the realization that Chris was probably on his bed in the same position made you bit your lower lip. Your delusions made you think he was a bit upset that morning because he was jealous but then again, if he wanted to he would, right? So he probably didn’t want to. 

That thought took you out of the horniness you were slipping into and brought a little of sadness instead. 

Hell, he’s never even asked for your phone number. Not even as a neighbour. Weren’t you at least supposed to talk about hot water and the trash bins?

No, you weren’t horny anymore. You were pissed. 

But you didn’t need Chris to masturbate. 

You could just do it as usual. You didn’t need to imagine his palms on you. Nor his veiny forearms. Definitely not his pillowy and pink lips, dragging down your skin. 

Your first whimper took even you by surprise but you couldn’t stop. Not when the image of Chris’ face between your thighs was burning inside your closed eyelids. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? The only thing you were sure of was the way his velvety and wet tongue would feel like. Would he grunt while eating you out? Would he moan, desperately trying to find relief in the friction with the mattress? 

Oh that was a good image. 

That was such a good image that your toes curled and your fingers picked up the pace. Was he a head pusher? Or was he a good boy waiting for you to please him with your mouth the way you wanted to?

You moaned louder. 

You were so close. So so so fucking close.

And then the knock on the door made your legs shake in frustration. You opened your eyes, fingers still deep inside of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. If the person didn’t leave in the next second you’d lose that goddam orgasm. 

The person knocked again. 

Fuck. 

Brain hazy with murderous intent and anger you didn’t even consider that the only person to be able to get inside the building and knock instead of ringing the outside bell was your neighbour. 

“Hey ya,” Chris smiled, lifting one plastic bag. It clinked and you figured it was beer. 

___

Chris ruffled his hair at the whimpers. 

He couldn’t go on like that anymore. The evil plan to well, edge? no, cockblock you and your toy? yeah, sounded too evil for him. But after you careless display of noise with the dude the previous night he though you deserved it. 

At the second louder whimper he was already outside, all of the beer he accumulated in his fridge in a bag and the poor excuse of hey im bored and I wanted to see Nyx, well, I wanted to see you as well.

“...I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he repeated the phrase and completed it after you opened the door. 

You were a mess, a complete mess. Your eyes were shining and he could tell you were boiling hot from the effort of fucking yourself and probably from the anger of being interrupted. 

He loved it. 

“No, I was- uh,” you took some steps backwards and sideways to welcome him inside. “Working out,” you finished. 

Nyx came meowing towards him and he knelt down, taking her in his arms. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing didn’t leave anything to the imagination and you wondered if he also has been working out - actually working out - prior coming to have those huge and pumped biceps. 

“Hello, hello,” he nuzzled his nose into Nyx’s and you smiled a little, taking the beer bag and putting it down on the low coffee table you added to the decor some days ago. 

“Working out?” you heard him ask after a cuddling moment with your kitty (the real cat). 

“Yeah,” you turned around, one hand on your lower back, one to scratch your forehead. “You know,” you shrugged, “Youtube pilates and such.” 

Chris nodded, joining you near the couch and letting Nyx down. 

“That’s great. I’ve never tried Pilates before.” 

“Are you flexible?” 

He thought about it. “A decent amount. Not too much I guess, though? Are you?” 

You gulped at the question, your brain still hazy witht he images your dirty mind created for you some minutes ago. 

“Yes? I think so,” you sat down. 

He hummed as if your frantic state amused him. Well, you were probably very amusing to look at. A whole mess. And you wondered why he didn’t give you his number? Yeah. 

He looked around and you thought it was because he wanted to comment on the new decor. “Do you not use any mat?” 

You were starstruck. “A mat?” 

Chris looked at you. “Mat.” 

“Oh, it’s uh, in my bedroom.” 

He nodded. 

“Do you just go to the gym?” you really wanted to move the subject away from you. 

He leaned forward to grab the bag and take out two beers. 

“Yup. I do mostly weights.” 

“Of course,” you commented. 

Chris opened the bottles of beer on each other - which you actually found sexy - and handed you one. You jolted in place when you felt the cold glass on the back of your hand. 

“You seem very jumpy? Is everything okay?” he murmured. 

You took the bottle and chugged. “Yes.” 

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was talking, something interesting even, but you couldn’t concentrate. You didn’t know if it was the fact you’ve been masturbating to the thought of him ten minutes ago, or if he somehow was more fine than usual that night, or if you just were getting heated up because of the beer you kept downing like water, but you really wanted to just jump on him. 

He kept moving on the couch, backwards, forwards, side, adjusting his hair, his shorts. He was pissing you off because your eyes were forced to glue on either his arms, or his rib muscles, or his hands, or his lips, or his eyes, or his jaw, or his-

“Right?” he asked again. 

“Huh?” you woke up. 

Chris chuckled. “Where are you?” 

“I am here,” you replied, hand moving the bottle to your mouth in an already repetitive movement. 

Chris stopped the bottle by placing his hand on top of yours. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

He opened his mouth. 

Chris smiled. “It’s empty.” 

You looked down and you realized it was indeed missing any beer. But you couldn’t let go because his hand was still holding yours. 

You looked at him. “Can I have another one?” 

His eyes analyzed your features as if to understand if you were drunk or not. Perhaps he decided that you weren’t. “Yes,” he replied. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move his hand. 

“Then let go?” you tried. 

Chris let his fingers slide down the back of your hand then forearm before leaning in and grabbing the full bottle on the table in front of you. 

The swif of his cologne made you swallow dryly. He was so close. He was too close. He was too close for your tipsy and horny brain. 

His touch, the second time, gave you goosebumps and, fuck, he noticed. His gazed trailed your nude arms as he exchanged the bottles in your hand and your gaze was on his face. So you noticed the languid look on it, as he slowly traced your skin with the fingertip of his ring finger, from elbow to shoulder. 

You shivered and the goosebumps got more severe.

“You’re very sensitive,” he murmured. 

___

He was having fun. 

He was having so much fucking fun. 

You eyes looked wide, staring down his finger touching your skin like that. Your quivering eyes, your trembling lower lip, your quick breath. Was he being too evil? 

He touched your beer with his and took a sip. 

The sound woke you from your trance and you imitated him, licking the opening of the bottle with your tongue for a moment before pressing your lips into it to drink. 

Was that a habit of yours or were you also set on making him go crazy that night?

“What were you talking about before?” you resumed the conversation.

Chris chuckled. “So you weren’t listening.” 

You lifted your legs on the couch to sit on them. Your knees was touching his thigh and he leaned into it instead of moving away. He was as close as to rest his arm on your legs. Perhaps he should do that. 

“I got lost, sorry,” you smiled back. 

Chris took another sip and indeed rested his arm on your legs. You didn’t flinch. 

But when his hand naturally cupped one of your knees, the nude thigh in your pajama shorts got covered in goosebumps again. 

His chuckle was bright as he laughed at you. “You’re very very sensitive.” 

You rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “It’s normal. Everyone is like this.” 

“I am not,” he challenged you. 

Would you fall in the trap? 

Your eyes tightened in a knowing smile taking another sip. Perhaps you were drinking too much too quickly but he wasn’t going to be the boss of you. 

“I believe you,” you simply said.

Chris let his tongue poke his cheek in a visible display of disappointment and he loved the way you giggled. 

And when you suddenly dragged your nails on his bicep he was ashamed to realize he probably needed a pillow to cover his crotch. 

Of course you picked on that. Of course you had to. 

“Is this all it takes?” you voice got suddenly low and sensual, confident as you haven’t been that night. You were having fun now. 

Chris didn’t let himself lose. Not even when you reached his nape and you slowly played with the short hairs of his undercut. 

His gaze never broke the connection with yours. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been bricked up since I heared your whimpers on the other side of the wall.” 

Your hand stopped and your face fell. It wasn’t anger or annoyance. It wasn’t even shame as he thought. It was arousal and shock. Maybe even relief. 

Chris openes his mouth to add something else. Were you going to hit him?

And when you suddenly leaned in he was almost sure you were going to give him a good slap but he found the air knocked out of his lungs instead thanks to your lips of his. 

One second he was looking at you and the other he was grabbing your ass as your straddled his thighs. You hummed into the kiss and he imitated you, one palm to lift your shorts up and the other to rub at your back until reaching the back of your neck. 

You were soft and warm. So soft and warm and he wanted you closer to him so he pulled towards himself until he felt your body flush on his. His fingers frantically came in the front, to feel better what he was feeling with his chest, your braless breast, first on top of your shirt then, slowly, underneath it.

___

 You shivered and your broke the kiss to moan against his lips. His hands were warm and your breasts too tender. Your blood was buzzing like electricity under your skin and you desperately wanted Chris to touch every inch of it with whatever he wanted to - his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue. 

Chris, the neighbour. 

The neighbour that attached that damned plump lips to your neck now making you flutter your eyelashes. He wasn’t even doing that much. He wasn’t basically doing anything. Then why were you already moaning? Why were you feeling on the verge of shaking in his arms? Fuck, those arms that were wrapped around your waist, so huge and too strong for your own good. Would he throw you on the couch soon with those? You let your head fall back as he traveled down your throat, one hand to keep you in place, the other groping at the soft flesh of your ass. Then his mouth, his open wet and hot mouth, felt your cleavage and you couldn’t see anymore. 

You whispered his name, or you moaned it, you weren't sure, and you felt his hard cock flinch underneath you. You hummed, hands grabbing at his hair, pushing his fringe back to see his eyes. They were sharp looking up at you from the swell of your breasts. Just undress me already, you wanted to yell, but you knew he enjoyed taking his time with you. 

___

Chris needed all of his self control to not reach down and feel if you were as plump and wet as he imagined. He could tell you were on the verge to beg. You were almost there. He really really really wanted to hear your pretty voice use your polite words. Just a single please would be enough for him. So he waited. He let his tongue tease your hard nipples on top of the shirt, elliciting the sweetest moans from you and the way you rolled your eyes back made him wonder if that guy you fucked was completely clueless or if Chris was just too skilled.

But Chris could also tell he wouldn’t break you that easily the moment you let your hips down even more and rocked them once from the base of his cock to the tip. 

His throat growled without him wanting too and the sound made you pull his hair a bit to make him look at you. Your eyes were presenting a challenge and he smiled teasingly on top of your chest. 

Okay, he thought, and in a single movement your shirt was off of you and on the floor somewhere across the room. 

He thought having you half naked sitting on him would add to your mental fuckery but he didn’t take into consideration what the view would do to him. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, cupping your breasts as if seeing a pair for the first time. He gulped and looked back up right when you leaned in to kiss him deeply, arms around his neck and tongue inside his mouth. 

He lost it. He completely lost it, feeling your nude back with his knuckles, and you scent, god, it inebriated him so much that he was the one on the verge to beg you for something, anything, just fucking anything. 

___

You felt like mush. You felt like putty in his arms, like nothing. And when you broke off the kiss to breathe and he went back to torture your nipples, this time no fabric to rub on it but just his delicious and wet tongue on them, you felt like cumming. You actually felt like cumming. You felt like hiding your face and scream. It was already too much. It was already too much and you weren’t sure if you were thinking it or saying it out loud but Chris increased his pace, kitty licking your buds in ways that made you dig your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t even wince, he didn’t even care, teeth gently biting on the hard but tender skin and stretching it, before popping in as much as he could fit and suck until his dimples showed. 

Oh, it was sinful, the movement, the sound, your noises, his heavy breath, his cock so fucking hard right underneath you. You wanted more. You needed more, the begging word lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

“Shit,” you said instead, a high pitched and messy moan escaping your chest. Chris hummed deeply against your chest and his arms tightened around your body as you leaned forwards and felt your body spasm uncontrollably.  

You heard his chuckle from a haze as you slowly calmed down your breath. 

“Adding making woman cum just from nipple stimulation to my CV now,” he giggled, his pretty eyes right above your cleavage. You smiled, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was giggling after doing all that to you. 

“Stupid. It’s just my body being sensitive, as you said.” 

“And yet, that motherfucker didn’t make you cum even by accident,” his tone changed completely. 

His jealousy gave you butterflies - you were kinda ashamed to admit - and all you could do was leaning down to give him a smiley kiss, and it somehow tasted sweet and gentle. His cock didn’t feel sweet though and when he slowly pushed his hips upwards his tip bumped into your sensitive clit making you jolt. Then again, and again, until you had to let his plumped lips go and breathe on them instead. 

“Chris-” 

“Yeah?” he murmured back. 

You whined, foreheads pressing together. 

___

Chris thought he was going to just cream his pants. He thought that was it, that was the moment. Because besides creaming one’s pants, he didn’t think what other appropriate reaction one could have seeing you slide down from his legs onto your knees on the floor and rest your hands on his thighs with that needy expression of yours. 

“Oh, fuck,” he swallowed, one hand to messy his hair even more. 

The corner of your lips lifted in a confident and amused smile. “You think I can add making man cum just from rubbing his thighs in my CV?”

“Oh, I fucking think so,” Chris replied with somewhat of a choked and amused voice. Your warm palms were doing just as you said, touching him on top of his thin shorts, until reaching underneath them for a moment and feelin his boiling skin. The print of his cock was so obvious that you wondered if it was painful so you leaned down and just touched alongside of it with your nose, making his muscles twitch, then with your open mouth, warming him through the fabric. 

Chris let his head fall back for a moment, unable to keep his eyes open, then he looked back down, not wanting to lose a single movement of yours. 

You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you smiled, almost purring, letting your tongue wet his shorts ever so slightly. 

“I know what you want,” he smiled with a heavy breath. 

Your head tilted to the side in a silent oh really?

He hummed. “But I don’t have issues with begging. So, please,” he added in a whisper, “please please I need to feel your mouth on me.” 

___

You felt a new wave of wetness pool inside your panties.

How could a man look so hot begging for it? He drove you crazy. You thought you were breaking him but he broke you instead.

He was pissing you off. He was pissing you off so badly. 

“Shirt off,” you lifted yourself and he chuckled, obeying you. The way he reached back and took it off by the collar made your knees weak and they weren’t strong in the first place. 

“Better?” he leaned back again.

You felt your head spin. You felt like about to choke on your breath or spit or just air. One couldn’t just look like that. 

So all you could do was just to lean in, tasting that immaculate skin with your lips on his neck, feeling his collarbones, then open mouth on his chest, then finally you bit the tender but firm skin right above his waistband, close to the few veins disappearing into his underwear. 

He exhaled deeply, then he inhaled sharply, and finally he whimpered, a single sound, sweet but husky. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear all of it. And when you felt satisfied with the mark you left on his pristine stomach, you grabbed his waistband and pulled. 

“Lift your hips for me, princess,” you smiled and Chris let out an incredulous offended giggle. 

Yet he did as you ordered, letting you take a moment to try and understand in which hole you could fit all of that. 

___

“I’m sure you could make me cum only by looking at it, but I would appreciate a little help too,” Chris let his hands caress your jaw and then he slowly dug them into your hair. 

You looked up at him then back down. “Shit,” you murmured, rubbing your thighs together. 

The movement didn’t go unnoticed to him and it just made his cock jump. You looked gorgeous. He thought you looked like a wet dream but none of his wet dreams looked that good. 

He exhaled with a groan as you finally let your tongue travel from the base up his tip, feeling the most prominent vein, until tasting the pre-cum. Then you grabbed it, lazily pumping as much as you could, tongue teasing his slit before swallowing half of it in one go and making him choke on air. 

“That’s- this is-” he mumbled, eyes fluttering and hands imperceptibly shaking. 

You hummed a question but just sucked not even letting him process anything else besides the feeling of your perfectly wet and warm mouth around him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pulling on your hair a bit the moment you started to bob your head even lower until almost touching the base with your nose. The gag sounds made him dizzy and he relaxed the grip as you let his cock out with a gasp, some saliva strings attached to the tip. You broke them with your tongue and started to eagerly sucking on his tip again, lungs trying to take in as much air as you could before diving in again. 

Chris was a sinner but if that was what heaven felt like he thought he might start repenting soon. 

“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured with a husky voice. He was losing it completely just like the life you were sucking out of him. “So so so fucking good,” he let his head fall back again as you hummed pleased around his cock, the short eye contact making him close his eyes, feeling the pleasure pooling too quickly inside of him. You gagged again, this time for longer and your jaw relaxed, taking him deep inside your throat again and again and again until he pulled away, his thighs shaking and his breath completely irregular. 

You looked at him disappointed and a bit mad. “-m cumming, are you sure-” Chris explained with a broken voice and you huffed, taking him back inside your mouth and making him groan as if he was almost in pain. 

“Shit shit shit,” he repeated like a mantra, relasing so fast and so intensely that he almost missed the way your throat moved as you swallowed almost to the last drop, letting the last sprut land on your extended tongue instead and cheek. 

Chris exhaled as if he just finished running a marathon and relaxed his muscles. His fingers collected the drops of cum from your face and you smiled, grabbing his wrist with your hands and directed it towards your face. 

“God,” he gulped dryly, watching you suck on his fingers and coating them with your spit. The view was almost more erotic than the one he just witnesses and he wondered if he should add a third one inside your mouth to get them all ready for what he wanted to do next. 

___

One moment you were between his thick thighs, and the other you were staring at the ceiling, your back flush on the couch. 

You couldn’t make sense of when or how he grabbed you and pushed you into it, the only thing you could concentrate on being the feeling of his kisses on your stomach. 

And not only. The way his neck chain felt rubbing on your skin with every inch he touched with his mouth. And when you felt it, cold, sliding between your legs, you inhaled deeply, hands trying to reach and grab anything to anchor you to reality. But Chris grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to your sides. Then he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs with a harsh pull. 

“No princess for me?” you joked, trying to fight the sudden feeling of being completely naked and very much open-legged in front of him. 

Chris leaned down until almost lying on you and you welcomed his naked body between your thighs, feeling how deliciously he started to get hard again only by pleasuring you. 

“Princess? But you want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you?” he teased your lower lip with his teeth and you whimpered at the sweet tone but dirty words. 

“Yeah?” he asked again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reaching for your ear and languidly tracing its shape with his tongue. 

You exhaled, caressing his wide back, feeling his muscles flex as he came back towards your mouth. 

“Words, princess,” his voice was husky and deep and you felt it in your chest going down to your core. 

“Yes, yeah,” you breathed out. Chris smiled pleased and the glint in his eyes got darker as he disappeared from your sight and pulled you by the hips towards his mouth. 

You felt like melting. You felt like melting and disappearing into his touch. 

Yeah, no, it was even better than you’ve imagined. You thought you knew how his velvety tongue would feel like but no, you didn’t. You had no fucking idea, not a single clue. And in that momen you realized you were so glad for not having a third neighbour because the way Chris got you moaning and swearing was probably unbearable. He just flicked your clit, and sucked on it, then kitty licked, then let his tongue flat on you, going down to collect all drops. Again and again. It was so dirty, it was so wet and sinful, it made you unable to keep your eyes open. He fucked you with his tongue, sliding it in with a groan, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his finger making space for itself. You gasped and stared down, catching a glimpse of Chris’ almost black eyes under his fringe, and the white of his teeth, like about to devour his prey. He pumped his finger in and out, tongue back to torture you, and when he added the second one and curved them towards the sweetest spots, your spine curved as well, and you frantically grabbed at whatever you could reach. Chris kept you down with the other arm, snaking it around your thigh and pressing his palm on your lower stomach. The pressure made you choke, heighteing the pleasure until something broke inside of you and you lost control of your own body and mind, shaking so violently that you couldn’t see anymore. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers rhythmically after another gasp of air, and you realized he was shushing you, lazily kissing your thigh, and whispering quiet praises.  

Then he came forwards, his bicep full and his forearm flexed keeping his body weight, the other hand still buried inside of you. 

You reached up and wiped his chin and lower lip and he smiled, catching it with his mouth and slowly sucking on it. 

The mewl that escaped your throat at the view made him chuckle so we wanted more, finally sliding his fingers out and shoving them inside your mouth. 

The kiss that came afterwards was slow and deep, your tastes mixing together in it, his body resting on top of yours, caging you down with his weight. 

___

Chris hasn’t felt that aroused in a very long time. Although your whole body was doing the conversation, your touch, your eyes, the way you’d pull him into the kiss, your legs around his waist, he really really wanted to hear you beg him for it, beg him for more, beg him to not stop. 

You didn’t stop kissing him and he was grateful for your almost identical apartments because eyes closed and hands busy groping at your ass as he carried you in his arms he had to only rely on his instincts to find the bedroom and drop you on the bed. The view of you sprawled on it the way he has imagined many times in the intimacy of his dark room made him exhale with his mouth and when you lifted one foot, gently rubbing it on his abdomen he lifted one amused eyebrow, desperately wanting to bite on you. So he did just that, trying to suck on the tender skin on your hip to get you a matching spot to the one you gave him. Your gentle but amused whimpers made his cock throb almost painfully and he lied fully on his stomach, his thumb lazily pressing into your clit in circular motions. Your body kept jolting ever so slightly as he peppered kisses all over your abdomen, still sensitive, and your hands in his hair made his spine shiver deliciously. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you. 

Slowly and deeply, just like the kiss he gave you, caging you under his body. 

He wanted to see your expression as he reached down and lined himself up to you. He wasn’t disappointed, the gasp you let out, feeling him slide inside of you mirroring his. 

Chris needed to close his eyes for a moment, lips rubbing on yours, and his nostrils filled with your perfume. 

And when he opened them, your blowned out pupils, your open wet lips, your eyebrows curved in a way that communicated lust and desire made him push himself in until a single choked sound escaped from your tender throat. He did it again, and again, slowly, making you feel every bit of him, stretching you out in ways that made you wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze with broken breath. 

___

It was overwhelming. So much and so full. But you needed more. You wanted him deeper. You wanted him everywhere. 

“Faster,” you whimpered, arms abandoned on the pillow you pushed your head into as he obeyed, snapping his hips into you. The louder moans filled the room and you extended your throat. Chris leaned down to bite on it, the sounds of his groans reverberating inside your chest. His hands reached yours, pulling them near the headboard and pinning them down, making you bite your lips at how you let yourself be fully to his mercy. He pushed his hand on your wrists more, the other sliding back down to your hips to keep you in place. 

The bed started to creak and the sheets wrinkled underneath your bodies. A thin layer of sweat shone on his silky skin and you desperately wanted to feel him. You tugged at his hand but he smirked, pressing you down again. 

A single disappointed mmh made space between your whimpers. 

He clicked his tongue. “You want to touch me?” 

The breathy yes visibly amused him too much. 

“Ask nicely,” he whispered on your lips, his hips never stopping to turn your brain into a mush. 

Your reply was a dry chuckle and he caught it with his mouth transforming it into a growl. 

“I see you’re not fucked up enough,” he said in a second your wrists were free, but so was your body as he got up on his knees, sliding out of you. 

Your whimper of protest at the sudden emptiness made him exhale satisfied.

“Come on,” you eyed him and his beautifully arrogant face. 

“What?” he turned his head to the side in that little play. His cock was heavy resting on you as he slowly slid it on top of your clit, not enough to give you any relief but enough to keep you on that edge he desperately wanted you to be on. 

You extended your arms, almost touching his chest, but he grabbed your wrists again keeping them together as he kept playing with you. 

“Say it,” he purred. Your hips twitched at that delicious torture. “Say what you want.” 

“I want you inside of me,” you opened your eyes. “I want you to make me cum,” you tried. Maybe you’d break him. Maybe you’d make him lose control. 

But he just smirked. “Yeah?” 

You hummed back, your fingers shaking in the air. 

“What else?” 

Your bit your lower lip. “Fuck, Chris-” you skin shivered. 

“Just say it, come on, and I’ll fuck you the way you want me to,” his tip teased your sensitive clit deliciously as a little taste of what he would be able to do to you. 

“Say it, baby,” he added and the petname threw you off completely, making you grit your teeth. 

“Please,” you voice was faint. 

Chris’ cock twitched and his grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Louder,” he ordered and you whined as a reply. 

“Please,” you repeated. “Please please plea-” 

Your words got choked as he slammed into you, so deeply to cut your airflow completely. And when he slid out and thrust into you again you tried to breathe but it felt impossible. Your pants got louder and louder matching the intensity of the skin slapping and wet sounds. Chris pulled you even closer by your hips, reaching your throat and resting his warm palm on it to keep you in place. 

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,” he murmured. 

“I want- to see,” you admitted and Chris stopped, just the insinuated offer making him close to finish. 

He grunted and slipped out, grabbing your sides and turning you on your stomach with a single movement. You exhaled at his manhandling and when he grabbed your arms, pulling you up on your knees to face the mirror on the right, he felt your body shiver at the view, your eyes drinking in your own body then his figure right behind it. 

"You want to know how you look in my arms?” he whispered in your ear, snaking his hands on your body. “You want this pretty hole stretched and filled with cum?”

Your back curved and he could see in the mirror the way your eyes almost rolled back when he slid back inside of you. 

“Yes,” you whimpered back.

“That’s why you’ve been so loud, weren’t you?” He thrusted slowly and deeply. 

“Yes,” you added, with a choked sound. 

The realization made Chris completely dizzy. “You knew I’ve been listening?” 

“I was hoping you were.” 

“And what were you thinking of while burying your toys inside your cunt?”

You rolled your eyes back, his movement inside of you making it hard to speak. “About this,” you whined, one palm tentatively reaching back to touch his abdomen but you had no more force. 

You fell forwards on your hands, letting him grab your waist and fuck into you faster. Between your lashes you could see his body, tall on his knees, and his gritted teeth behind those gorgeous full lips. It was too much. His touch, his strokes, his scent all around you, his voice - deep and breathy - made you dig your nails into the sheets, twirling them as hard as he thrusted inside of you. 

“-m close, Chris, I am-” you tried to speak, voice muffled by the sheets you were burying your face into. The man leaned down to grab your chin and lift your head up. You exhaled, staring at your teary eyes and fucked up gaze. “Cum for me,” he grunted in your ear and you didn’t see anymore. 

Your body seized up and the sounds got drowned as you screamed. Chris’ hands trembled in your peripheral vision and the feeling of his cum filling up your pulsating cunt made you moan again dragging it until you could hear again. His breath was heavy and his voice hoarse as he whispered your name laced with swears. 

Your lifted your gaze in the mirror, drinking in the way he licked his lips, eyes trained on your ass as he slid his cock out. He looked at you under his eyelashed and grinned, his palm bouncing on one cheek as he gave it a good spank. 

You inhaled then gasped as he knocked your thighs together and slid back in slowly. 

“Chris, I’m too sensitive-” you choked and he exhaled. 

“Me too,” he grunted. “You can give me another one, right, baby?” 

His voice made your skin shiver with goosebumps as he leaned down to pepper wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. “Or I can just stop,” he added, stilling his hips. 

You whined. “Don’t stop-please-” 

Chris hummed and moved slowly, fucking his cum back in. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

You let your face back down and moaned, jolts of electricity running down your veins at the overstimulation. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. “If you stop looking at me I’ll stop.” 

His name excaped your throat like a sob. You didn’t want him to stop but you had no force to keep your head up. 

Chris’s glistening body leaned down again as much as to reach our head. His fingers were delicate but firm when he grabbed your hair and pulled up, his hips picking up the pace. 

You moaned, keeping your neck extended in his hold, the swears coming out of your mouth matching his. The heat in your abdomen felt like an explosion about to happen and when he felt your walls clench he grabbed your elbows again, pulling you up on your knees to wrap his arms all around you. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his hands kept groping at everything until his knuckles would get white. They rested on your breasts, the other to hold your waist, and you grabbed his veiny forearms, open mouth in an initial silent scream. 

“That’s right, that’s it, cum baby-” he grunted, his voice caressing your shivering skin. 

Your body spasmed and if it weren’t for his hold you would have heavily fallen on the bed. Chris stilled for one moment, groaning as you clenched on him, but then he thrusted again, fucking you through your orgasm until you heard the choke on his breath against your ear, releasing into your for the second time. 

You didn’t know for how long you remained both still, catching your shaky breaths, gazes talking to each other because you had no more words. But the moment he pulled out you watched, his cum sliding down your thigh and pooling on the sheets underneath you. 

___

Chris’ chest felt the perfect amount of hard and soft. You nuzzled into it even more and your hair tickled him. He giggled, wrapping your body even tighter. 

“I’ll get you new sheets,” he murmured. 

“I can get the stain out,” you murmured back. Your eyelids felt heavy after his sweet praises and the delicate touch of his hands cleaning you with a soft warm towel. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were until he brought a glass of water and he laughed watching you down it. Then he got you another one. Then he gave you a kiss. And another one. And he giggled again when you pulled him down on top of you, making out slowly like you had all the time in the world. 

And being like that in his arms you did feel like you had all the time in the world. 

“I’ll just get you new sheets,” he argued. 

“If you need to get me sheets everytime you fuck me you’ll go bankrupt.” 

Chris remained silent so you lifted your head to look at him in the face. He was grinning. 

“Is that-” he started. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s an invitation to do this again.” 

Chris cupped your face with his palm. “I love how you look when you’re embarrassed.” 

You chuckled dryly. “I am not embarrassed!” 

Chris nodded. “Hm-mh.” 

You puffed and sat up, then turned on the other side. Chris only giggled and wrapped your body again, pulling your back towards his chest. The little smile you had on your face was visible to him in the mirror in front of you and he kissed your neck once before falling asleep with you. 

___

In the morning you both used a single washing machine. 

“Busy and enjoyable night, neighbour?” he leaned on the door suddenly as you finished loading it. The kisses he kept giving you in the elevator made your breath heavy. 

You rolled your eyes amused at his little theatrical act. “Yes.”

He hummed getting closer and you clicked the Power button. 

Chris grabbed your hips loosely and pushed you towards it until your ass hit the low vibrating machine. 

“He made me cum many times,” you whispered against his lips. They were curved in a smile. His eyebrows shot up as if surprised. 

“Oh, really?”

“Hm-hm,” you replied then gasped as he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you on the washing machine. His body naturally slid between your thighs and the way his fingertips trailed on them made you almost mewl. 

“Chris-” you tried to stop him as his mouth fell on your tender neck. 

“Yeah?”

“Not here,” you murmured. 

The washing machine started to rumble underneath you and you exhaled. 

His eyes shone with mischief. “Why, you’re afraid some neighbour is going to hear you? Shouldn’t that turn you on?” 

“I only wanted you to hear me.” 

“Well, if I gag you no one will hear a thing,” he whispered. 

You gulped and your thighs impercetibly tightened around his waist. The vibrations of the washing machine kept sending jolts of pleasure up your bust. 

“What if someone comes in suddenly?” 

“We’ll be quick,” he peppered kissed on your neck. “But I can also stop.” 

His gaze was dark and twinkly with lust. Your eyelids were getting heavy. 

“No, don’t stop. Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

#bangchan smut #stray kids smut #bangchan fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #bangchan stray kids smut #neighbours au

[twst-trash]

❥• 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝

Tumblr ate my last upload for some reason, so if you see this one please like/reblog it again 😩

Summary: Leona invites you to a royal gala in the Sunset Savanna and you learn that he likes you more than he tries to let on.

wc: 5.2k (!)

content warnings: Jealous!Leona x fem!reader, 18+ smut. Jealousy, breeding kink, scenting, Pining™️. Featuring a cliché love rival and my own take on Queen Kingscholar. Just a little something I wrote to pull me out of the funk I’ve been in lately.

“Tch, I hate this kind of shit.” Leona mumbles as he fiddles with his cufflinks in the mirror. His hair is tied into an unkempt ponytail, stray mahogany locks cascading over his face haphazardly. He looks so different standing there in formal attire- you’re so used to seeing him in his barely buttoned NRC uniform and god-awful sandals- but his demeanor remains unchanged. A small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you watch him jam an ungracious finger between his canine and incisor, double checking for any hidden crumbs leftover after brushing his teeth this morning.

Behold, you think, the ever elegant Second Prince: Leona Kingscholar.

(Truthfully, you were more than surprised when Leona showed up to the Ramshackle Dorm before winter break and propositioned the trip back to his homeland.

“I gotta take someone with me to this stupid gala.” He had said to you, hunched in the low arch of the doorframe. His body was comically compressed, folding in on himself as he tried to bully his way into the dorm. “My brother won’t shut his trap about needing me to bring a partner. Said he’d just pick someone at the palace to be my chaperone if I couldn’t get anyone.”

You looked the beastman up and down, an eyebrow quirking inquisitively. “So you want me to waste my winter break babysitting you?”

A subtle flash of hurt crossed his features for just a moment before an almost imperceptible rumble started in the back of Leona’s throat. “You know what? Forget about it- I shoulda known you’d be a brat about this.” He all but growled, contorting his body once more as he motioned to close the door.

“Wait.” You sighed and grasped the doorknob before Leona could pull it shut. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t go.”)

And thus you had been thrust into the mirror portal to the Sunset Savanna, woefully unqualified for a fancy royal party.

Leona’s tux, an amber-gold suit that fit sophisticatedly against his body and nipped in at his well-defined waist, only serves to remind you of how underdressed and unprepared you are for the occasion. No matter how juxtaposed by his behavior, Leona looks like royalty- and you, markedly, do not. It was one of your main arguments against coming: the fact that your wardrobe lacked anything acceptable for the foreign diplomats that were apparently visiting the palace. Hell, even your NRC uniform was an old moth-eaten hand-me-down nearly unacceptable to attend school in, but Leona had insisted that he’d find you a dress some way or another.

“Amali probably has somethin’ you can wear.” He had mentioned to you before, sizing you up in a way that made you feel small. “She’s always collecting dresses to sew and repurpose, she’s gotta have something in your size.”

Even if his sister-in-law could perform the miracle of making you look the part, you were still miles away from acting the part. Of course, if Leona were your only benchmark for royal behavior, you’d have already mastered the art. Unfortunately, you have also met Amali Kingscholar, who is effortlessly elegant and poised in all the ways that you are not.

– but even cotillion classes and dresses lined with ridiculously expensive tulle could not prepare you for the most jarring part of coming to the Sunset Savanna. No, the most jarring part of coming to the Sunset Savanna is learning that Leona is the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom. It makes sense when you stop to think about it; he’s the second prince, a (supposedly) soon-to-be graduate of Night Raven College, and, you can begrudgingly admit, devastatingly attractive. From the moment you arrived in the Sunset Savanna, Leona had been bombarded by attractive Lionesses, sticking sweetly to his side and glaring daggers at you for even stepping foot into the kingdom. Their stories were all slightly different (“Remember me, Leona? We used to play together as cubs!”, “I’m the baker’s daughter- you used to love to come in and try our mince pies.”, “Cheka and my niece go to the same preschool!”) but served the same purpose: to endear themselves to the boy you had been not-so-secretly pining over since you had accidentally stepped on his tail in the botanical gardens.

You struggle to define your relationship with Leona, still unsure if you can call yourselves friends. You certainly didn’t consider him to be a friend in the same way you saw Ace and Deuce, though he seemed to be around just as often. It wasn’t entirely your fault for being unsure; Leona purposely made himself hard to read. He’d accuse you of never leaving him alone but invite himself over to the Ramshackle Dorm for a nap on your couch in the same breath. The lion had finessed himself as an immovable fixture in your life, yet you held each other at an arm's length, too afraid of something to get to know each other better (much to the chagrin of Ace, who emphatically exclaims that the two of you need to ‘bone each other and get over it already’ at any chance that presents itself).

Despite the bickering and posturing and fights that Ruggie regularly needs to mediate, Leona is still always there, for better or for worse. He’s still the one who gives you too much money when he sends you to fetch him lunch (‘and get yourself somethin’ to eat if there’s some leftover, I guess’) and the one who’s always suspiciously present to bail you out whenever you find yourself running into trouble. Maybe that should be enough for you- knowing that he cares in his own way. Maybe it shouldn’t feel so awful to see other people flirt with him and, even worse, see him flirt back. Still, as the castle workers flit in and out of Leona’s spacious bedroom, commenting on his attire and using every stray thread or crooked tie as an excuse to allow their hands to linger, you can’t help the sharp sting of jealousy that shoots through your viscera.

It’s far too easy to forget that Leona is a prince with the way he acts, but the longer you spend in the palace, the more it becomes the only thing you can think about.

“I hate this shit.” Leona repeats again, scowling at his reflection in a way that almost confirms your suspicion that his ever-sour expression is practiced. He throws the jacket off of his shoulders and onto the floor with little regard, watching as the fabric crumples in on itself. You’re sure that the maids, who had flattened out every solitary wrinkle several times over, wouldn’t mind having more work to do if that meant being able to run their hands along Leona’s broad chest once more.

“Mhm,” You hum affirmatively. “You’re making it hard to forget that you do.”

“Shut it, herbivore.” Leona rolls his eyes. He undoes the first few buttons of his undershirt and folds the sleeves above his forearms in an attempt to get more comfortable while he still could. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Amali to get fitted, anyway? Gala’s in about an hour.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were actually getting ready- isn’t that part of my job as chaperone?” You say, waggling your eyebrows at him. Leona shoves you and you fall onto his bed dramatically, a breathy laugh expelling itself from your chest on impact. “Is that any way to treat a guest? Not very princely of you.”

“Dramatic brat.” He grouses, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. You can’t help the way your eyes trail up his forearm, admiring the shape of his muscles. “Think you oughta remember you’re in my palace. I could throw you out of the guest bedroom and let you succumb to the elements tonight.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, unable to stop the smug grin that’s plastered onto your face. “You’d never.”

“Wanna bet?”

He bows his head, bringing his face closer to yours. You take a sharp breath despite your attempts to remain calm. If Leona got any closer, you’re sure your erratic heartbeat would give you away, too. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since having to share a bed during Azul’s contract and the first time you’ve really looked into his eyes. The emerald pools of color were usually masked in a layer of apathy or annoyance, but those features were noticeably absent from his expression as he stared back at you, pupils dilated and lips parted ever-so-slightly. His gaze travels down to your own lips and you feel your face heat from his scrutiny. All of a sudden, you’re self-conscious. Are your lips chapped? How is your breath?

You’d be lying if you tried to convince yourself that Leona wasn’t always so pretty, especially now as he peers down at you, eyes half-lidded and trained on your unmoving lips.

“You think I wouldn’t?” He mutters, close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. His tone is deathly serious. You’re not sure he’s still talking about throwing you out, not when his lips hover right above yours

- and then there’s a knock.

“My liege?” A small voice calls from outside Leona’s door. The sound is enough for Leona to pull back, creating a considerable amount of distance between the both of you in mere seconds. The cloud of static uncertainty is all at once lifted. “Queen Amali is looking for your guest.”

“She’s here.” Leona barks back as he stands from his place on the bed, a twinge of irritation dripping off every syllable. “Take her, we ain’t doin’ anything important.”

The female servant slowly opens the door, oblivious to the palpable tension present mere moments ago. Despite coming to fetch you, her gaze is fixed on Leona. She looks at the fabric on the ground with a frown and moves into the room to pick it up.

“You shouldn’t have taken off your jacket, sir. The guests should be arriving soon.” She sighs, opening the jacket for Leona to pull his arms through. The way she stares at him is not lost on you, and neither is the way that her hands linger on his chest for too long after adjusting his lapels. And he’s not stopping her. The way he could be so close to you in one moment and have another woman feel him up in the next makes your head spin.

“Ahem.”

The servant’s head turns to you, embarrassed, as if she had just taken stock of the fact you were there. “Right! So sorry, miss. Please follow me to Queen Amali’s chambers.”

You make sure to flip Leona off as you leave the room.

-----

The dress very nearly fits you without any alterations. The amber-gold dress matched Leona’s suit perfectly and was sleek against your body, dipping low to reveal the valley between your breasts. The slit that starts high up your thigh makes you question whether or not it was appropriate for the gala, but Amali was more than happy to pass the dress along to you.

“If it weren’t for the foreign diplomats coming, you probably would’ve been dressed in traditional Sunset Savanna attire.” Amali explained as she contemplated aloud about taking in the waist to have the fabric rest taut around your midsection. “But I’m glad it’s not- I’d love to have that custom made for you the next time you visit.”

The diplomats are already lining up in front of the palace by the time you see Leona again. Amali had insisted that you take your time with her personal makeup collection before the gala began. Being an all-boys school, NRC was unfortunately lacking in the makeup department, so aside from the times that Vil decided to experiment on you, you weren’t used to wearing makeup anymore. Still, slightly unblended eyeshadow aside, you thought you had done a decent job.

You can see Leona waiting at the bottom of the staircase, still fiddling with his cufflinks before the sound of your heels against the marble draws his attention. His eyes wash over your body, unashamedly staring at the way the fabric swishes in time with your steps as you head down the stairs from Amali’s personal sewing room.

“Well look at that,” He starts, still looking you up and down. “The herbivore cleans up well.”

He holds out his hand in an unexpected show of chivalry, and you happily take it. Leona holds you close as you enter the ballroom, amazed by the grandeur of it all. Only a few people besides the Kingscholar family and yourself were present in the room, including a small orchestral band that was in the final stages of setting up for the event. Tables were stationed near the back of the room, donned in expensive-looking gold tablecloths. You could see waiters chatting with each other as they set up their trays by the tables. You feel out of place as an attendee- in your mind, it would make more sense if you were working the party, serving food and drinks along with the busy team of servers.

Leona’s arm around your waist reassures you that, at least for tonight, you belong out here, with him, as an honored guest to the Kingscholar family.

It seems like the ballroom swells with people in the blink of an eye, the previously idling band already playing some smooth, sophisticated tune as the servers begin to mingle into the crowd, carrying glasses of champagne and bite-sized hors d'oeuvres.

“I have some things to take care of,” Leona leans down to whisper into your ear, squeezing the side of your hip reassuringly before pulling away. “I’ll be back, okay?”

You watch as he crosses the ballroom, side still tingling from the ghost of his touch. It’s hard to know what to do by yourself here. You’re unsure if it’s appropriate to socialize, gazing around the room to see if Farena or Amali were available enough to at least let you hover by them. Unfortunately, the King and the Queen are just as busy as Leona, talking to several important-looking people while Cheka runs about with some other royals around his age.

As for the business Leona needed to take care of… Your stomach churns at the sight of more women (and men) making flirty faces at him, touching him in a way that’s too familiar. You can’t help but wonder if he knows them. If he’s grown up with them, if they knew him more intimately than you ever would. A small part of you can dismiss the threat of the palace workers- they’d probably have no real chance of being with Leona- but the foreign royalty and big names in the Sunset Savanna sure do. Probably even more than you.

You grumble a small ‘thank you’ to the server whose tray you snatch a champagne flute from. You drink it far too fast to appear cordial, setting the empty flute back onto the tray before grabbing another one. Tonight was going to be a long, excruciating night.

— - -

It had been nearly an hour without Leona at your side. You sit at one of the tables near the corner, sulking, feeling like you’ve been stood up on a date. The champagne servers were now avoiding you, trying to wean you off from the golden liquid, so you had resorted to hoarding a small plate of hors d'oeuvres to yourself. Drowning your sorrows in beef tartare wasn’t the way you thought you’d be spending winter break. You’d long lost track of Leona in the bustle of the ballroom. If it weren’t for appearances, you would have already made your way back to the guest bedroom.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, instantly perking up.

“Fuck Leona, took you long enough-“ You begin, but as you turn around, the man behind you is most certainly not Leona.

The man looks down at you, raising an amused eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for that lazy oaf this whole time.”

Normally you’d take offense to the insult on Leona’s character, but your anger at him abandoning you and the buzz of champagne wins out in the moment. Still, you cross your arms, apprehensive of the stranger in front of you. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“I’ve been watching you for a little while now,” the man admits, taking a seat next to you. His ochre eyes survey the empty champagne glasses and pile of hors d'oeuvres in front of you and chuckles to himself. “I can tell a heartbreak when I see it.”

You scoff, pulling the plate closer to you defensively. “I’m not heartbroken.”

“Mind telling me who you are, then?”

The beastman in front of you isn’t unattractive- quite the opposite, actually. His golden eyes are piercing, looking at you intensely. The shock of red hair that sits atop his head almost reminds you of Farena’s, but shaved along the sides so that the top could be neatly swooped over. His ears and tail have alternating streaks of orange and black pigment running across them, reminding you of a tiger.

“You first.” You challenge. He chuckles at that, standing from the table once more.

“Taiga.” He replies simply, bowing slightly and extending his hand. “Care for a dance while you wait for nothing?”

Normally you wouldn’t bother, but the jealousy you feel from seeing Leona with other women all night is still settled in the bottom of your stomach. Against your better judgment, you take his hand as he guides you to the dance floor, immediately seizing your waist and holding you close. You’re not accustomed to ballroom dancing at all, but you move slowly, letting Taiga take the lead.

His body is warm against yours, overwhelmed with a smell so unlike the beastman you were familiar with. It feels wrong, almost, to be dancing with someone other than Leona, but you weren’t exclusive- if he could dance and flirt and be touched, so could you. You sway together, awkwardly, to the tune of the live band the Kingscholars had hired.

“Taiga.” A voice growls from behind you. You’re startled out of your thoughts as Taiga pulls you closer.

“Ah, so the second prince makes an appearance.” Taiga smiles. “I was starting to wonder if you had abandoned the little one here. I was just looking after them for you.”

You scoff in disgust and try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he holds on strong.

“You have five seconds to get away from them.” Leona says, nearing the end of his patience. You can’t see Leona, still held in place by Taiga’s grip, but you can tell that he’s seething.

“Sorry, your majesty.” Taiga says, his voice dripping ingeniously, “I didn’t realize they were your mate. Your scent is just so weak on them- I guess that’s a problem you second princes have to deal with.”

That does it.

“If I catch you talking to my mate again, I’m reducing your whole country to dust.” Leona snarls, baring his teeth to the shorter male. “Write that down as a threat against your kingdom, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll have an embargo put on your kingdom’s ass from here to the Shaftlands if you so much as breathe in their general direction, just you fuckin’ see.”

Taiga releases you from his hold, throwing his hands up defensively. “You’ve made your point. No need to get testy. I’m sure your brother wouldn’t take kindly to learning you were making threats on his behalf.”

Finally free from under the tiger’s slimy grasp, you move to stand beside Leona. If the memory of his overblot wasn’t so recently etched into his mind, you’re sure the man in front of you would be nothing more than a pile of dust by now.

But Leona restrains himself, gripping your wrist and escorting you out of the ballroom and into the hallway leading to his room.

“You always find a way to get involved with the worst people.” He says under his breath.

What, like you? would be your playful answer, but you’re still angry at him for leaving you alone. “I don’t even know who that is.”

“Taiga Hon.” He practically spits. “First born prince to some-fuckin’-where. Certified asswipe and thorn in our sides. Even Farena doesn’t like him.”

You’re silent as the both of you walk further and further from the ballroom. Despite your lingering rage, you’re still relieved to be away from the room full of strangers and back in Leona’s presence.

“Don’t want you bein’ touched like that by anyone else.” Leona mutters, “‘specially not that princely Tiger fuckhead.”

“You’re one to talk.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist out of his grip. “Constantly flirting with your maids, letting them touch you too closely when they fit your tux, and now we’re at a gala where you’d rather entertain other lions and lionesses than pay attention to your date? You know, the person you kidnapped from their peaceful winter break at NRC?”

“So, I’m your date, hm?” Leona smirks, emerald eyes sparkling with delight as your face flushes.

“You’re insufferable.” Of course that’s the one thing he takes from your tirade. “But I’m your mate, apparently?”

“It’s just beastman talk,” He grumbles, though you can’t miss the uncharacteristic blush that spreads across his face. “Don’t let it get to your head, herbivore.”

“Right.” You hum affirmatively, almost bitterly. “I guess your real mate could be any one of those palace workers or lionesses back in the ballroom.”

Leona pauses, stopping in his tracks at your words. Before you can realize what’s happening, Leona has you up against the wall, wrists pinned above your head as he smashes his mouth into yours.

Your heartbeat is erratic, rattling against your ribcage as Leona presses into you. It feels so good to finally have him so close. His knee spreads your legs, bypassing the slit of your dress and pressing right against your clothed cunt. He swallows your moan, tongue working against your own, before he pulls back.

“It’s always been you, herbivore.” He mumbles against your lips. “You’ve always been mine.”

“I’m yours.” You breathe as he trails his lips along the side of your neck, nipping your collarbone in a way that makes you subconsciously rub against the leg between your thighs.

“And I’m yours.” Leona echos, releasing your wrists from his grasp. He lifts you with ease, placing your legs on either side of him, palms hot against your thighs as he leads you back into the bedroom. You wrap your arms around his neck, comforted by his familiar smell.

He pushes his bedroom door open and immediately lays you down on the bed. He discards his tuxedo jacket, carelessly tossing it aside, and quickly works to unbuckle his belt. Finally free of its constraints, you marvel at his erect cock, clenching your legs together at the sight.

“Had to stop myself from pushing your panties aside and fucking you right in that hallway.” Leona whispers hotly in your ear as he presses into you once more. He undoes the zipper along the side of your dress before peeling the shiny fabric off of you and tossing it to join his pile of clothes on the floor. “You really did look amazing in that dress.”

You gasp as he palms the outside of your panties, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth at your reaction.

“Already so wet for me.” He chuckles, trailing a finger up and down your clothed slit.

“Stop teasing.” You hiss impatiently, hips rolling into his touch.

“Patience, herbivore.”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, nose bumping against your clit. He shoves the thin fabric aside and flattens his tongue against your entrance, lapping at your wetness. Your breath stutters out, gripping mahogany locks to try and ground yourself as Leona takes you with his mouth. His tongue expertly swirls around your clit, suckling lightly as he inserts his fingers deep inside your pussy.

His fingers and mouth work in tandem to unravel you; his free hand comes up to knead your clothed breasts, a muffled take it off spoken against your folds. You quickly remove your bra and Leona’s hand wastes no time in seizing your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

“I’m close, Leona,” You gasp, clutching the back of his head even harder. He doesn’t let up, his hot mouth fully engulfing your clit, sucking and licking as his fingers press against the spongy roof of your pussy. Your body tenses as you hit your peak, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body as you cum.

“Mm, good girl.” Leona hums as he pulls away, a satisfied smirk plastered onto his face as he strokes his cock to the sight of you. He spreads your legs wider, folding you in on yourself as he teases the tip of his huge cock between your folds. You moan again, still sensitive from your first orgasm, but eager to accept his cock nonetheless.

“Want this?” He asks, tapping his cock against your clit. You can barely manage to whimper a yes, please before he’s slowly sinking into you. You can hear his own breath hitch as he’s engulfed in the warm, wet walls of your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Leona groans, stilling his hips as he bottoms out, waiting for you to grow accustomed to his length.

His head is buried in your neck, biting and nosing you, smearing his scent all over you as if to make a point.

“Move.” You whisper, a tiny command, gripping tight onto his shoulder.

Leona doesn’t have to be told twice, slowly withdrawing his cock before slamming it into you once more. His pace is unrelenting, barreling into you hard and fast, like you’d disappear out from under him if he didn’t.

“Mine.” He grunts before capturing your lips in his. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You affirm, breathlessly, fingernails scratching Leona’s back and leaving crescent-shaped indents in his flesh. His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It’s all too much, and you can feel the height of another orgasm approaching.

“You’re squeezing so tight around my cock,” Leona growls into your ear. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside of you.”

“Yes, fuck yes!” You whimper, your own orgasm threatening to wreck your body.

“Love this fucking pussy,” Leona mewls again. “Wanna fill you up so everyone knows you’re mine- have my seed dripping out of you while you talk to those stuffed shirts out there. Get you round with my cubs so everyone knows that You. Are. Mine.”

The last three words are punctuated by three deep thrusts that send you over the edge, chest heaving as your pussy pulsates around Leona’s cock. White warmth fills you as Leona cums deep inside, fucking you through the last throes of your orgasm.

He rolls over, sticking to your side sweatily and kissing the side of your neck. You turn to face him, arms wrapped around each other. It’s silent as the two of you bask in the afterglow.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Leona suddenly speaks up, one tired eye opening to look at you.

“Is that why you were so flirty?” You groan, fighting the urge to smother him in a pillow.

“Maybe.” He says, closing his eyes once more. If he hadn’t just blown your back out, you’d murder him.

“You’re an ass.”

“They’re all social climbers, anyway.” Leona adds, sleepily. “People around here either hate me or want to use me for their own agendas.”

“In speaking of- should we go back to the party?” You ask, but Leona’s head is buried into your shoulder as he grunts in the negative, unwilling to move from his spot next to you.

And you don’t want to go, either.

-

The next morning at the breakfast table, Cheka is full of energy. It’s much too much for how early it is, and though Leona had insisted that the two of you stay in bed through breakfast, you forced him to go.

“We already slept through the rest of the party last night,” You said exasperatedly, practically dragging the lion out of his own bed. “We have to show up for breakfast.”

“You two must’ve been tired last night.” Amali says slyly, a knowing smile forming on her lips. “Didn’t even stick around for the main courses.”

“Let them have their fun, Amali.” Farena laughs, his voice booming. Like father, like son, you think as you watch Cheka play with the toys he had brought to the breakfast table, two stuffed warthogs he was smashing together with an exaggerated ‘bam!’- boisterous and far too loud. “We were young once.”

She hums, watching your embarrassed expression. “I’m glad you liked the dress last night.”

“Of course, thank you again!” You exclaim, glad for the change in subject, “It was beautiful- I’m surprised you had something in my size.”

Amali laughs, her gaze shifting to Leona. “You didn’t tell her?”

You cock your head, now also looking at Leona. “Tell me what?”

Leona would never tell Queen Amali Kingscholar to shut up; he was raised to respect women, especially his brother’s wife. Instead he grumbles a ‘don’t’ as Amali giggles at his expense.

“He asked me to order it for you.” She says, nudging Leona with her elbow. “He wanted something that’d match his suit, the possessive brat. I was surprised he got your measurements so accurate- someone must’ve been paying attention.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your own lips as you watch Leona shift uncomfortably, pretending to be more intrigued by stirring his porridge than the conversation at hand.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him, squeezing his hand. He grumbles something close to a ‘welcome’ underneath his breath, and you know in that moment that he’s been yours this entire time, too.

- - -

As the students of Night Raven College return from their winter vacation, flooding the hall of mirrors en masse with presents they received over the break and embarrassing stories of family hot on their tongues, Ruggie is the first one who notices. Even if his keen senses couldn’t immediately pick up on your intermingling scents, it doesn’t take an apex predator to notice the lovesick glances Leona exchanges with you as the both of you simultaneously enter the hall.

After all the pining, the fights, the tension so thick that Ruggie could sink his teeth into it, he could finally rest and stop playing Cupid’s referee to your will-they-won’t-they schtick. He smiles to himself and thinks of the betting pool posted in his dorm room, dollar signs humming through his veins as he anticipates the happy payday.

“Took you long enough.” The hyena snickers as Leona approaches, coming to greet him as you break off to meet with your friends.

“Yeah.” Leona says with an uncharacteristic softness, his eyes trailing after you as you greet Grim (making sure he hadn’t burnt down Ramshackle in your time away, no doubt), Ace, Deuce and the others -

“It did.”

——

10 points to anyone who can tell which Disney character I based Tiaga off of.

the lion header is by firefly-graphics!

#leona x reader smut #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #leona kingscholar x reader smut

[tanadrin]

But Germany’s performances of repentance have their limits. They do not extend, for example, to the genocide the German colonial army committed in Namibia against Herero and Nama people between 1904 and 1908, killing tens of thousands. Germany did not officially apologize for those bloody acts until 2021 and has not agreed to pay meaningful reparations to descendants of the victims. If the new German identity relies on isolating the Holocaust as a shameful aberration in national history and nullifying it via solemn remembrance, there is little room for the memory of colonial violence in the nation’s self-mythology. Genocide scholar Dirk Moses named this approach the “German catechism” in a 2021 essay that sparked heated debate. “The catechism implies a redemptive story in which the sacrifice of Jews in the Holocaust by Nazis is the premise for the Federal Republic’s legitimacy,” wrote Moses. “That is why the Holocaust is more than an important historical event. It is a sacred trauma that cannot be contaminated by profane ones—meaning non-Jewish victims and other genocides—that would vitiate its sacrificial function.”

Accordingly, Germany now sees its post-Holocaust mandate as encompassing not a broader commitment against racism and violence but a specific fealty to a certain Jewish political formation: the State of Israel. Germany has relied on its close diplomatic relationship to Israel to emphasize its repudiation of Nazism, but its connection to the Jewish state goes even further. In 2008, then-chancellor Angela Merkel addressed the Israeli Knesset to declare that ensuring Israel’s security was part of Germany’s “Staatsraison,” the state’s very reason for existence. If asked why it is worth preserving a German nationalism that produced Auschwitz, Germany now has a pleasing, historically symmetrical answer—it exists to support the Jewish state.

To that end, in recent years, Germany’s laudable apparatus for public cultural funding has been used as a tool for enacting a 2019 Bundestag resolution declaring that the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement targeting Israel is antisemitic. Although the resolution is technically nonbinding, its passage has led to an unending stream of firings and event cancellations, and to the effective blacklisting of distinguished academics, cultural workers, artists, and journalists for offenses like inviting a renowned scholar of postcolonialism to speak, tweeting criticism of the Bundestag resolution, or having attended a Palestinian solidarity rally in one’s youth. A network of antisemitism commissioners—a system explored in this issue in a feature by Peter Kuras—has been deputized to monitor such offenses. These commissioners are typically white, Christian Germans, who speak in the name of the Jews and often playact Jewishness on a public stage, posing for photo ops in yarmulkes, performing Jewish music, wearing the uniform of the Israeli police, and issuing decrees on who is next in the pillory. When they tangle with left-wing Jews in Germany, canceling their events and attacking them as antisemites in the pages of various newspapers, they suggest what Germany’s antisemitism commissioner Felix Klein has said directly: That the Jews are not being sensitive enough to what antisemitism means to the Germans—that, in fact, these Jews do not understand antisemitism at all. In a perverse twist, the fact that the Germans were the most successful antisemites in history has here become a credential. By becoming the Jews’ consummate protectors, Germans have so thoroughly absorbed the moral lessons bestowed by Jewish martyrdom that they have no more need for the Jew except as symbol; by the logic of this strange supersessionism, Germans have become the new Jews. This is not only a matter of rhetorical authority on Jewish matters but is also often literal, as this self-reflexive philosemitism has led to a wave of German converts to Judaism. According to Tzuberi, “The Jewish revival is desired precisely because it is a German revival.”

If Jews are negated by this formulation, Palestinians are villainized by it. Last year, when the German state banned Nakba Day demonstrations, only days after the murder of Palestinian journalist Shireen Abu Akleh, police justified this suppression by claiming, in a familiar racist trope, that protesters would not have been able to contain their violent rage. Indeed, in Germany Palestinian identity itself has become a marker of antisemitism, scarcely to be spoken aloud—even as the country is home to the largest Palestinian community in Europe, with a population of around 100,000. “Whenever I would mention that I was Palestinian, my teachers were outraged and said that I should refer to [Palestinians] as Jordanian,” one Palestinian German woman speaking of her secondary school education told the reporter Hebh Jamal. Palestinianness as such has thus been stricken from German public life. In The Moral Triangle, a 2020 anthropological study of Palestinian and Israeli communities in Germany by Sa’ed Atshan and Katharina Galor, many Palestinians interviewed said that to speak of pain or trauma they’ve experienced due to Israeli policy is to destroy their own futures in Germany. “The Palestinian collective body is inscribed as ontologically antisemitic until proven otherwise. Palestinians, in this sense, are collateral damage of the intensifying German wish for purification from antisemitism,” wrote Tzuberi.

July 5, 2023

#sorry for the long quote #hard to pick just one or two paragraphs #Germany #politics

[simandy]

“If a tree falls in a forest, but there is no trunk, neither marks on the grass, was there even a tree?”

Yes I am back with one more specific-ass cc pack nobody understands... Yet! This was supposed to be the part two of my MAGIC Pack, which consists of hairtyles for male framed sims, but I got carried on while writing my book, halloween was next, so I thought... “Why not?”

Here’s a pack with the 9 planned hairstyles + 7 clothing pieces + my Halloween gift for you! 1 extra hairstyle, 2 extra versions of the clothing pieces and a mask, for your evil purposes, it being destroying my patience or not.

BIIIIIIIIG ENORMOUS THANK YOU for @pandorassims4cc​ who made the header poses for me ♥ I was going nuts trying to find something like that! Thank you for your ABSOLUTE KINDNESS ♥♥♥

PLEASE check the cc items bellow the cut for more details ♥ Also the Hair 360º

BGC

All Lods

TOU

More details under the cut;

DOWNLOAD ♥

PLEASE CONSIDER DONATING ON KO-FI OR BECOMING A PATRON. I’m trying to pay for my meds and therapy, also college. Please, consider sharing too, if you can’t pay. Thank you for the support :)

All Hairstyles are under the same specifications:

BGC

All Lods

Hat Chops

24 EA Colors

40 Puppy Crow Colors (You will need the mesh with the EA colors)

TOU

Exceptions: Enan, Ashay, Kea and Rael Hairs are high poly. Be cautious.

Cloth Belt is located into GLOVES,

Tempos’s mask is located into HATS.

Known Issues:

There’s something up with a tiny hair straw in Cain Hair, but is usually covered and in a very had angle to be noticed.

Prince Cloth Belt has 1 (one) problematic vertex next to the thighs that hate me and you too. It is a REALLY small bug but might make you “eek” at first glance but you will forget about it. The Diplomat Uniform shares this trait.

If you have any issues with the Kea hair, please contact me. It is unstable for no reason at all, works with me but now for everyone, I’ll try to fix it after halloween.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 custom content #ts4cc #s4cc #sims 4 cc #the sims 4 maxis match #ts4mm #s4mm #the sims 4 clothes #ts4 clothes #sims 4 clothes #the sims 4 hair #ts4 hair #sims 4 hair #the sims 4 acc #ts4 acc #sims 4 acc

[tazahan]

MOTHER'S MEMORIES

Okay....(take a deep breast* I mean breath) I'm kinda nervous to show you my very first fanfic and let me tell you, I never ever wrote a story about any kind of fanfics before so I'm sorry if I made a mistake and English is not my main language. But Since some of you guys are so kind to give me an opportunity to show my first writings, so here is my offering to you, I hope you guys can enjoy it :)

Summary:

(In this AU story, You are a young woman who married the Lin Kuei grandmaster, Bi Han, for reasons of diplomatic relations between the two clans. The father of Lin Kuei bros is still alive. There is no love in your relationship yet, and Bi Han still regards you as his subordinate rather than his wife. But you continue to strive to win his heart.)

After warming up for a long time, she finally found herself able to get closer to the grandmaster, Bi Han. Even though he still gave the impression of being distant, this was better than when Bi Han still treated her like the lowest student. (Y/N) does not expect her position to be equal to her husband, who is a grandmaster, but she hopes one day Bi Han will be more open up to her and start accepting her as his companion. Not his underling.

One evening the sun began to set, Bi Han finally asked (Y/N) to spend some time practicing alone with him in the temple's garden. He wanted to test (Y/N)'s abilities to see if she was worthy enough to become a Lin Kuei soldier. After all, Bi Han did not marry a weak woman and he needs you to show him strong proof why you married him.

And this is a good opportunity for (Y/N) to approach, not as master and student but as husband and wife. (Y/N) happily accepted orders from her husband.

After doing several tiring moves and her body starting to crumble, Bi Han finally told (Y/N) to rest and sit beside him under a maple tree that was starting to fall. Bi Han was seen starting to meditate and made signs for (Y/N) to follow what he was doing. A cool breeze began to blow on (Y/N)'s tired face. The grass swayed to the rhythm of the wind.

The wind blew into (Y/N) 's face again and this time it brought some leaves and hit (Y/N) 's mouth, (Y/N) winced in discomfort and she started coughing, spitting out the leaves that had entered her mouth. Bi Han glanced at her and stifled a laugh. Then Bi Han concentrated again on meditation.

(Y/N) wanted to try to break the silence but not a single word came out of (Y/N)'s mouth. She still felt afraid and awkward towards her husband. He still intimidating to her. Besides, Bi Han wouldn't be interested in small talk which could later break his concentration. (Y/N) just kept quiet and followed the breathing instructions. "Have you done all of your duties well today?" Bi Han asked suddenly.

“Uh? Y-yes, Grandmaster” “Good.”, Bi Han replied. "Have you had lunch?" he asked again. "Yes?" (Y/N)'s answer shortly "Good to hear, just because I often go on missions outside doesn't mean you don't take good care of yourself here." Said Bi Han curtly. Then silence returned It seemed that the meditation was over, from the way Bi Han sat, he started to look more relaxed. (Y/N) began to stretch out her legs which were starting to feel sore and played with the fallen maple leaves.

Bi Han glanced at (Y/N) again. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find her pleasing to the eyes. Her hair was a little messy, her sweaty skin, was exposed to the rays of the setting sun and made (Y/N) look glowing, and the Lin Kuei uniform started to look a bit tighter due to the curve of her body.

(Y/N) didn't notice Bi Han's gaze, and she was still playing with the maple leaves in her hands.

Bi Han was amused and wanted to mess (Y/N)'s head but his ego bested him and prevented him from doing so. Still unknown why Bi Han' s still against physical affection.

Bi Han began to feel the awkwardness between the two of them. He realized he had to say something other than questioning (Y/N)'s condition and (Y/N)'s obligations that she had carried out.

"You…have you sent a letter to your parents about how you are doing here?" Bi Han asked again. (Y/N) was a little surprised by Bi Han's question. Since when did he know that she had always been writing letters to her parents? but that is of course a normal thing for a child who will always provide news to their parents. Moreover, there was no internet in the Lin Kuei, and the only way to inform those closest to the situation was to send a letter.

"Y-yes, always." (Y/N) answered. "Hmm, I wish them good health," Bi Han replied. "Thank you, Grandmaster." (Y/N) answered. It's a little surprising that Bi Han hopes for good health for her parents. Even though he is not close to (Y/N)'s parents. And Bi Han always considered (Y/N)'s family to be outsiders who should have no relationship with Lin Kuei. Bi Han was too proud to make an alliance with another clan. But because this was an order from his father, he couldn't refuse it.

Bi Han started asking again, "Do you miss your parents?" (Y/N) was again surprised by Bi Han's question. Since when did Bi Han care about the condition of herself and her parents? isn't their marriage just a diplomatic relationship status? (Y/N) answered hesitantly and tried not to give an answer that could trigger her husband. "Y-yes, I miss my father and mother. I'm a little worried if one day something happens to them and I'm not there to help them."

"I understand" responded Bi Han. "You seem... to really care about your parents. Especially your father. It's clear how much he pampers you," Bi Han continued. "Oh? Really? Hehe…" While scratching her head, (Y/N) answered with a hesitant laugh. "Maybe because I'm their only daughter, so they must be a bit overprotective of me."

"Just like I thought" Bi Han sniffed.

(Y/N) realized that Bi Han was the only one who had been asking her several questions. Now it was her turn to ask about his life.

"What about your relationship with your parents, Grandmaster?" (Y/N) asked. Bi Han glanced at her with a sharp gaze and made her a little scared.

"I-if you don't want to answer, I understand. I'm sorry for being presumptuous in asking…" (Y/N) asked.

"My parents always taught us about the values of life and the dignity of the Lin Kuei. Discipline and honor." Bi Han answered.

"But my father as you know, was a former strict leader and he wanted me as his successor. You will never know the burden I have carried all this time, just to please him." Bi Han replied curtly.

"But I am proud of my title and I am confident that I can bring the glory of the Lin Kuei to greater heights than when the Lin Kuei was under my father's patronage." Bi Han crossed his arms while looking above.

It can be seen how Bi Han has a very visible distance from his father. He hated his father but he still respected his father. It wasn't easy for him as the eldest son, he had to carry out all his obligations as the new Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.

"But in his eyes, I was still a snotty kid who needed guidance. Although in the end, he handed down the title to me he still did not admit my capability of leading this faction."

His face became enraged, and he was seen gritting his teeth and clenching his hands. She can see ice particles flowing through his veins.

"Despite the way he treated you,.. I believe he still loves you but...maybe you don't realize it, Grandmaster." (Y/N) tries to cheer him up.

"Enough of your nonesense!" Bi Han snapped in his booming deep voice.

(Y/N) shuddered in horror. Has she gone too far into Bi Han's family affairs? (Y/N) fell silent again and looked down while holding back her tears. She was afraid that if she asked again, she would only worsen her husband's mood.

Being with Bi Han felt like walking on eggshells. (Y/N) felt that whatever she did or said was always wrong in Bi Han's eyes.

Bi Han realized that his response had hurt his wife again, and he felt a little guilty. Bi Han exhaled a long breath and looked at (Y/N). "Whatever happens between me and my father is not something you have to be concerned about, you understand?"

(Y/N) looked at him slowly and nodded her head. Bi Han then took the maple leaf from (Y/N)'s hand and examined it carefully. "Soon, it will be winter." Bi Han said.

"Extreme cold won't stop you from training hard, right? A Lin Kuei must remain alert no matter the circumstances." Bi Han advised.

"Understood, Grandmaster." (Y/N) answered.

Bi Han seemed to be starting to relax again. He leaned his back against the tree and looked up.

"Back then… this garden, is the place we often visited with our late mother. My mother also trained me and my two brothers here." Bi Han opened the conversation again at this time about his mother. "We spent our break time here. There are lots of memories from my late mother that I can't forget." Bi Han replied.

Bi Han could be seen smiling slightly, remembering the days of his childhood. Bi Han has a close relationship with his mother.

(Y/N) started to become interested again and asked questions related to his mother.

"Your mother, what was she like when she was alive?" (Y/N) asked.

Enthusiastically, Bi Han began to answer her question.

"As a mother, she was loving, compassionate, and fiercely protective of our family. She taught me the value of honor, discipline, and respect for others. She was my guiding light and the source of strength for our entire family."

Bi Han woke up from his back and made small ice figures on the ground with his hands. The figures look like a woman and 3 small children, implying that they are the Grandmistress, Bi Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas when they were little.

Bi Han made them change poses while telling his story, like when they were on a picnic, practicing martial arts, and playing. These ice small sculptures look very beautiful, and they were like moving on their own. Like the animated movies that (Y/N) has been watching when (Y/N) still lived in the city with her family.

"They're so beautiful!" (Y/N) was amazed by Bi Han's small creation. All this time, she has always witnessed the action and horror that always comes out of Bi Han's Cryomancer power. It is unexpected that someone as scary as Bi Han still has a soft side that has not been seen by other people's eyes. (Y/N) was very grateful for this little thing.

Bi Han smiled and continued his story. "Her legacy lives on in the teachings and values she instilled in me and in the hearts of all those she touched. She is dearly missed, but her spirit continues to inspire and guide me every day."

“She sounds indeed a great woman, a formidable warrior, and an amazing mother.” (Y/N) responded.

“She was. My mother was indeed a remarkable woman. She had the strength and skill of a warrior and the wisdom of a leader. She could lead as well as my father, and her presence on the battlefield was always an inspiration to those around her.”

“Until…” Bi Han's face looked sad again. The small ice figures in front of them shattered into snowflakes.

“The day our mother died. From that damned disease." The atmosphere became gloomy again. (Y/N) also felt the sadness in Bi Han's heart. Bi Han is good at hiding his feelings but they are still obvious to (Y/N). "You… must be really miss your mother." Bi Han let out a long breath. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about her. I can still feel her touch and her voice." He closed his eyes. Silence began to set in, and (Y/N) didn't know what else to say. But (Y/N) had an idea. And that might not be a good idea or too bold. But it's worth a try. This is all for the sake of winning the grandmaster's heart. "Grandmaster?" (Y/N) called him softly. "Would you like to lay your head here? Just for a moment" (Y/N) changed her sitting position while patting her thigh.

Bi Han glanced at her and made a disgusted face. "Is this some kind of joke you made to degrade your Grandmaster?"

"No! Not at all. Please. Just this once. I won't ask for anything." (Y/N) begged. Bi Han frowned and sighed. He looked like he would reluctantly do what (Y/N) told him to do. Bi Han lay down and rested his head on (Y/N)'s thighs. This was the first time she had seen Bi Han's face this close. (Y/N)'s heart was beating fast, but she tried to remain calm.

(Y/N) began to gently stroke Bi Han's head and hair. She could feel all the muscles on Bi Han's face starting to relax. He no longer looked angry. and stared slowly at (Y/N)'s face.

"When I was little, my mother did this to me when I was feeling unwell. I'm sure the grandmistress did the same thing to you and your brothers." (Y/N) returned Bi Han's gaze with a smile.

Bi Han didn't say anything, but he seemed to be enjoying (Y/N)'s caress. Her hands are so small, so soft and so warm comparing to his hands. (Y/N) started humming a lullaby which strangely sounded almost similar to the song his mother always sang when Bi Han and his two brothers were going to sleep.

Bi Han began to reminisce about the pleasant times he and his two brothers had with their mother when they were children. (Y/N)'s touches reminded him of his mother once more. Bi Han closed his eyes and without realizing it he fell asleep on (Y/N)'s lap.

(Y/N) continued to stroke and massage Bi Han's head. She still couldn't believe that she had succeeded in making Bi Han soften towards her. This is one big step!

'When he's not angry, he looks handsome though' thought (Y/N). Bi Han seems so peaceful sleeping with his face like that.

The sky began to darken. Bi Han awoke from his slumber with wide eyes and promptly rose from his place. (Y/N) was surprised to see Bi Han wake up in such a hurry.

"How long have I been asleep?" Bi Han asked. He looked panicked. "Umm..around…15 minutes?" (Y/N) answered. "We can't rest here for too long. Get up! There are still lots of tasks to complete!" "Y-yes, Grandmaster," said (Y/N). (Y/N) got up from sitting and her legs also felt sore.

Bi Han seemed to have his back to (Y/N). "Wife." "Yes, Grandmaster?" "Thank You." Bi Han walks, leaving (Y/N) behind. (Y/N) smiled and assumed a respectful posture behind Bi Han. And walked after her husband leaving the garden.

THE END

#mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han x reader #bi han x you #mk1 bi han #bi han sub zero #bi han #bi han mortal kombat #mk1 sub zero #sub zero

[elenauaurs]

TWISTED WONDERLAND OC

bird boy

INFO

Name: Diaval Corvo

daiavaru koruvo (JP)

Grade/Class: Junior/Class D (No. 6)

Age: 167

Height: 173

Dominant hand: Left

Homeland: Briar Valley

Club: Board game

Best Subject: Flying

Hobbies: Read ancient writings

Pet Peeves: DOGS

Favorite food: Wagyu beef

Least favorite food: Rotten food

Likes: Malleus, food, big ruins

Dislike: Hunters, swim, thunder

Talent: Draw maps

PERSONALITY

Diaval is a reserved and introverted individual, but also very open-minded and a kind person by nature.

With subjects that arouse his curiosity or interest, he can prove to be a talkative person and easy to talk to.

Diaval also has a great ability to command people in diverse situations (as a strategist) and is also a good diplomat. Due to being great observer, he can easily create useful strategies for difficult situations. However, upon realizing that the situation is out of control, Diaval may act more desperate, nervous AND TOTALLY RESTLESS, especially in cases where he knows from the beginning that everything will go wrong, which makes him a bit of a chatterbox until the situation is resolved.

Despite being a kind person, he also acts sarcastic as hell in situations where he wants to irritate someone or when he is irritated, and can also reveal a somewhat sadistic side, mocking and enjoying the pain of someone he doesn't like.

Overall, Diaval takes on a more parental/caregiving attitude towards those he cares about(even with humans, with whom he has more difficulty befriending with), being a big worrier if something dangerous happens.

FACTS

Diaval is based on Diablo from sleeping Beauty and a bit of... Diaval... from maleficent

Diaval is a raven/crow fae

Diaval is Malleus' closest servant, which is why he is known as "Malleus' wings" in Briar Valley. He has known Malleus since he was a child

For some reason, Diaval has maps of the entire NRC

Diaval is a person very well informed about what happens at school, he loves... gossip... and investigating the latest topics

For this reason (mentioned in the previous topic), he has a love-hate relationship with Azul, especially because in book 3 he prevented a large number of diasomnia students from being caught in contracts.

He definitely doesn't like participating in swimming lessons. According to him, his wings are too heavy to swim properly.

Diaval definitely doesn't like going near the Savanaclaw dorm, but why? Simple, there are a good number of beastmen with canine characteristics (like Jack) in Savanaclaw, and well... He doesn't like dogs very much…

At some point in his life, Diaval helped babysit Silver. The first thing little Silver called Diaval was "pretty little bird"

APPEARANCE

Diaval has short, very dark blue (almost black) hair, with a long fringe on the left that covers his eyepatch. His eyes are pink, he has a mole below his eye and on his neck (and other non-visible places on his body), he wears black earrings in both ears.

His dorm uniform are a little modified. He has a neck stole made of feathers and wears a 'scarf' around his neck instead of a tie, his black coat hangs below his shoulders, he has a gold claw ring on his fingers and some part of the back of his outfit is open to his wings.

. . .

#twst oc #twisted wonderland #twst #night raven college #malleus draconia #diaval corvo #disney twst #azul ashengrotto #diasomnia #diasomnia oc #sleeping beauty #diablo #maleficent #silver #silver twst