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sarahscribbles · 10 months

Note

fluff is everything, therefore:

I've been entertaining this idea for a very long time. Loki is a heavily touch deprived boy who needs all the affection in the world.

Now I desperately need a small drabble, doesn't even have to be long, of reader just...taking care of him. Calling him "angel" and watching him lose his MIND because no one's ever called him that before?? Reader making him food and looking after him when he's sick and just.....a small drabble. A cute little thing of just....Loki being loved

Because we all know the man needs it.

Anyway, mwah, hope this helps the writing juices flow :)

I hope this is what you had in mind, my darling! I know it's not the best!

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤

��𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The dull clink of ceramic on wood makes you wince and freeze almost comically in place by the side of the bed. Barely daring to breathe, your worried eyes snap towards the god currently buried between tousled viridian bedsheets.

He doesn’t stir.

You release a slow, quiet breath, relieved that Loki is still sleeping so soundly, despite his earlier protestations that he was completely fine. He’s far from fine, that you’re certain of. You’ve watched how the summer cold he’s come down with has chipped away at him over the past few days, zapping his energy quicker and more thoroughly than he’ll ever admit. He refuses to let that mask of invincibility slip for even a second.

“Gods don’t get sick, darling,” he had said, though you could see the sluggishness that had crept into his usual elegant movements, along with the deep weariness that had settled in his eyes.

One hour later you found him sleeping like the dead.

He looks so utterly at peace that your heart swells with love for him, and with the familiar realisation that he’s yours. This beautiful man who has survived tortures your mind can’t even conceive of is yours. It’s something that almost has you weep. Out of all the people on this planet - of all the beings in the entire cosmos - it’s you that gets to love him, and you’ll never take that for granted.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes off him as he sleeps. Still a villain to most of the world, yet he’s curled on his side in your bed with tousled hair and pink stained cheeks. You can see the bedsheets shifting with the steady rise and fall of his chest, as well as the way his arm is stretched out towards your side of the bed, as though, even lost to his dreams, his body still searches for yours.

The man is your entire heart and more, and it’s moments like these you wish you could bottle.

Your hand floats to his face before you can help yourself. It’s warmer than usual and still smooth beneath your gentle touch that pushes a stray curl back behind his ear. You swear you hear his breathing shift, almost like he knows you’re there.

You never tire of this - watching him sleep. To have him sleep so soundly in your presence, to have him know with such unwavering certainty that you wouldn’t dream of hurting him, feels like a blessing from the gods.

He trusts you - completely and wholeheartedly - and it’s one of the greatest gifts he could ever give you.

His hair is silken beneath your touch and errant strands wrap loosely around your fingers as you bend down to kiss his temple. It’s barely more than a butterfly kiss, but you can’t help but let your lips linger briefly against his skin. You only wish it was enough to free him from the clutches of his cold.

The backs of your fingers brush softly over his cheek and you make to leave and let him rest, but you’ve barely pulled away when he grabs your wrist in a loose grip.

“Stay,” Loki says, his voice groggy and congested. “Please.”

His eyes are flickering open, but it’s clear that he’s still wading through sleep. He looks so vulnerable and exhausted and sick that suddenly any plans you had for the rest of the day are unimportant. You can’t deny this man anything.

Easily, you climb into the bed beside him, resting your back against the headboard and opening your arms to him. “Come here, my love,” you tell him gently.

He wastes no time in shifting beneath the sheets until his legs are tangled with yours and his head is resting heavily on your stomach. He grips you like he’s been starved of your touch, like you’re the one thing tying him to Earth. You can feel the unspoken plea in the way he’s holding you, the “please don’t leave me” that’s burning into your skin.

You hope he knows that wild horses couldn’t drag you away from him.

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you stretch down to kiss the top of his head and intertwine your fingers with his. His hand locks around yours greedily, as though he can’t get enough of your touch.

It’s fine with you, though, because you can never get enough of him.

You begin to stroke his hair, so softly that you’re barely even touching him, but you can still hear his soft sigh of contentment. “Feeling better?” you ask softly, running your thumb along his knuckles.

“No,” he croaks, attempting to twist himself tighter around you. “I fear this may be something worse than one of your silly Midgardian maladies.”

You can’t help but smile. Your drama queen of a god is still in there. “Hmm, I think you might be right. I should probably let Tony know I’ll be out for the next few days to take care of you. I can’t risk my beautiful boy succumbing to a dangerous alien bug.”

Loki doesn’t move, but you can almost feel the smile that mirrors your own growing across his face. “You can’t,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled by how far he’s nuzzled into your stomach.

He lapses into silence and you take the opportunity to pull him closer. He’s solid in your arms - solid and alive and everything you never knew you were looking for. He’s your sun and your moon and all your stars, and you can’t imagine your life without him.

Wordlessly, you stretch to place another kiss to his head, not missing how he hums at your touch. “I adore you, you beautiful man. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He pulls your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles in reply. It’s so soft and so innocent that you’re struck again by how you would burn down worlds for him.

Not five minutes later, his breathing turns even and heavy. He’s fast asleep, head still resting on your stomach and hand still gripping yours.

#loki #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

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musings-of-miss-j · 3 months

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part four: in which the doctor is irritated (nothing new), you lose a rather important item and signora requests your presence

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: slowburn that makes you want to tear your hair out according to my friend, snarky reader, fluff, crack, slight social anxiety, reader is referred to as 'miss' but no pronouns, childe is pining, you are oblivious and the rest of the harbingers got a -9 on their 'how to romance your crush' exam

be sure to notify me of any pronoun slips!!

series masterlist

word count: 4433 words

author's note: thank you so so so much to everyone who has expressed interest in this series!!! a special thank you to @viridian-coffer, @nin3ss and @@vvzhyxx !!! i hope y'all don't mind being tagged but your little comments are so so appreciated <333 please continue engaging, it makes me unbelievably happy (also about scara: he's getting his own separate fic so stay tuned for that!!) quick reminder that asks and requests are always open :)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

The mystery occupied your thoughts more than it should have; the next day at the lab you dropped a replica of a ruin mechanism you’d made and were forced to endure the agonising process of watching it shatter to pieces on the floor. You mourned its loss as you picked them up, and the Doctor muttered something derisive under his breath.

“Just what is the matter with you?” He demanded from across the lab. He was prodding away at a poor fox’s corpse, testing out yet another one of his artificial hearts. It had been difficult to hide your distress at seeing the furry little thing dead on his workbench, and this trial of his wasn’t going any better than the others; he was in a particularly foul mood.

“Nothing, doctor,” you replied, disposing of the remains of your wonderful model. It’ll take me at least a week to make a new one. Damn that mystery woman for distracting me.

He tsked, abandoning the fox and the metal parts and striding over to you.

“Are you ill? Drunk?” He leaned in close, and you stepped away until the cool bite of the marble workbench dug into your back. The tip of his pointed mask was just inches away from your nose, and you fervently hoped he wouldn’t stab your eye out with it. “Your behaviour has been irregular since you stepped foot into the lab today. Whatever instability you pose is a danger to my experiments, and unless you provide a satisfactory explanation I’ll have you dismissed for a week.”

You clenched your teeth. Such a delay would put you severely behind schedule, something he was no doubt aware of. The Doctor was knowledgeable even in the science of making highly effective threats. And invading your personal space, apparently; the hard edge of marble was beginning to bruise your back the closer he leaned in.

“I assure you that won’t be necessary.”

“Then for the Tsaritsa’s sake, stop acting like a bumbling fool. Better yet, tell me exactly what caused this deviation from your usual efficiency so I can eliminate it myself.”

You allowed a small grin to take over your features. “I'm efficient, doctor?”

“Don’t play coy. You’re well aware of your capabilities, which clearly include diverting from the subject of conversation.”

“Oh, alright.” What harm could it do to tell the Doctor about the mystery woman? You pushed him away. Or at least tried to; he didn’t budge an inch and now your hands were on his chest. You quickly pulled them away, fighting the urge to avert your gaze in embarrassment at the proximity. How adorable, he thought. “A strange woman all but interrogated me in the dining hall last night, and admitted to be disguised as a recruit. She asked me a great many questions with the air of a person who’s used to obtaining answers, but refused to divulge her true identity. I’ve been wondering who she might’ve been.”

“That is what’s been occupying your mind to the point where you fumble in the lab?” He demanded after an incredulous silence.

“A scholar’s unsatisfied curiosity isn’t the most manageable of problems.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, tracing his mask with his thumb. “My apprentice, a supposed genius, led astray by a cliché mystery.” You could no longer tell if your face was red from how close he was standing or his derisive tone; either way, you were left flustered and a little indignant at how nice the Doctor's cologne smelled. You'd expected him to stink of laboratory chemicals, but the subtle earthy undertone was rather appealing. You toyed with the fingertips of your gloves in an attempt to distract yourself from such thoughts.

With a roll of your eyes, you retorted: “She was capable of illusionary magic. Do you have any idea who she might be?”

The set of his mouth revealed nothing, but he let out a soft 'ah' of realisation.

“Well?” You prompted. “Who was she?”

“That, my dear student, is none of your concern.” He backed away from you and returned to what you considered his half of the lab.

“Oh, why the change in tune, doctor? I thought you intended to eliminate any distractions?” You tugged your gloves and turned back to the sketch you’d made of an ancient ruin in the depths of Avidya Forest. It was a prime example of how elemental magic, in this case dendro, affected physical structures and their functionality; one particular crack in the stone wall housed a Dendroculous, and around it moss and other greenery flourished although the conditions for plant life were less than optimum. The mechanism to access the ruins had also changed due to elemental exposure; when formerly it could only be activated using a key or some other specific piece, it now responded to dendro application. Fascinating. “Oh, right. Doctor, where can I acquire a mask?” you asked, flipping through the pages of blueprints you’d made to build a replica of the ruin mechanism. You wanted to see how it might have functioned years ago, and now you’d have to rebuild the whole thing.

“How should I know?” Came the disdainful reply. It had been by design that you didn’t receive a mask, after all; it would obscure your expressions and make it difficult to read you. And your eyes were too pretty to be hidden.

“Then who should I be asking if I want a helpful answer?”

He muttered something under his breath, no doubt scornful, before replying. “Regrator, I suppose.”

Another unhelpful answer, and he sounded even more contemptuous than usual. You bit back a sigh and resigned yourself to asking Childe or Signora.

You spent the rest of the day rebuilding the replica. Thankfully it didn’t take as much time and you even managed to draw up a few prototypes for the key. Which looked nothing like a key at all, more like a vaguely star-shaped disk with four distinct points, and by the time the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the sheer chill of Snezhnayan night time truly set in, you were in high spirits and reluctant to leave the productive atmosphere of the lab. You decided to write the report for the day instead of leaving, but soon encountered a problem; there weren’t any chairs in the lab. Not a single one. The Doctor was completely immersed in the mechanical heart that had finally begun to beat underneath his fingers and you doubted he’d register any questions you sent his way, and so you reverted to the tactic you’d been forced to utilise during secondary school; perching cross-legged upon the workbench. The lighting was thankfully much better than it was in the rest of the palace. No dim floating lanterns for the Doctor, no, no. Instead the ceiling was mounted with large, circular lamps that glowed anywhere from bright white to soft yellow, and you settled beneath buttery radiance that was almost reminiscent of Sumeru summers. Quiet prevailed, with only the scratching sound of your pen and the metallic clinking from the Doctor’s direction disturbing the stillness. The scene contrasted vastly to the chaos of the Akademiya’s hectic workspaces; tranquil and unhurried where the latter had been loud and frantic, with panicked students rushing back and forth between different experiments and yelling at each other when their experiments affected each other. You still resented the Akademiya somewhat for showing such clear favouritism towards the literary and historic Darshans.

Working like this, after a successful lab session with no younger students coming dangerously close to breaking your apparatus or begging for help, snow swirling outside and a lovely big workspace and minimal pressure, you could almost convince yourself that this had been your plan all along. That you were here, in the Fatui’s headquarters, because you’d wanted this position and not because you’d been afraid of refusing. It was far from unpleasant, sitting on the workbench and refining your draft for a report about a subject you’d chosen.

Until the Doctor looked up and opened his damn mouth.

“Why are you sitting there?” The way you perched on the countertop, of all places, with your legs crossed beneath you reminded him of a bird. The sheer self-assuredness could’ve been enough to make you feel as though you were committing some atrocious, unforgivable crime. Luckily, your sense of guilt had been left a little weathered after several long years of defending yourself and your research.

“Because there’s no other place to sit, doctor,” you replied without looking up.

“If you deem your work enough for the day and find yourself with enough free time to bemoan the lack of seating then perhaps you should return to your dormitory.”

Unbelievably passive-aggressive. What difference does my presence make, anyway?

“Perhaps,” you conceded, without making a move to get up.

“Oh, for the Tsaritsa’s sake. Go to dinner or whatever other meaningless rituals you practise,” he said, that special brand of casual contempt lacing his words. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be offended; you’d become accustomed to his brash mannerisms in the span of little more than two weeks. Besides, it was funny to think that he wanted you to leave so badly. You adjusted your notebook in your lap and continued writing.

“Surely you can abide my presence a little longer, doctor.”

“Leave, you insubordinate pest.”

That drew a surprised laugh from you. He was seized by the urge to make you do it again. The Doctor usually dealt in elegant, intricately-worded insults, and this outright rebuke was such a change in pace you couldn’t help but laugh. The intensity of his stare grew until you were worried you’d offended him, and you glanced up to see him standing before the array of mechanical spurs and gears strewed across his workbench, arms crossed and head tilted to the side as he surveyed you. You wished you could see what emotion was in his eyes behind that damn mask. After a few moments more of staring, you gathered he could very well be contemplating the prospect of dissecting you if you didn’t leave (really, he just didn’t want to continue one of his more gory experiments in front of you. The discomfort would surely make you clumsier, and he couldn’t have an inefficient apprentice in his lab), and so you pocketed your notebook and pen and hopped down from the abnormally high countertop.

“I shall disturb you no more, doctor,” you said, slightly amused, before opening the door with a series of complicated knocks and leaving.

You no longer needed to consult your little map to find your way; the winding corridors had lost their daunting unfamiliarity. In fact, the whole palace was beginning to develop an air of friendliness; the silver phrases in the walls served as landmarks, the floating lanterns brightened whenever you approached, and the glowing jasmine perfumed the air with its delicate scent. Despite knowing that it would be much smarter to keep your guard up at all times, it was difficult not to relax when the palace so cheerfully presented itself to be discovered and mapped.

You stepped into your room, humming absent-mindedly under your breath as you went through the usual motions after a day in the lab; hanging up your cloak, letting down your hair, checking to see if your hidden store of valuables had remained untouched during your absence, tidying the myriad of reports, articles and notebooks strewn across your desk and other such minor chores.

A peaceful evening, if it weren’t for the fact that Signora was watching you.

“So this is what the little one gets up to after a long day.”

You gasped, startled, and dropped the teapot you’d been in the process of removing from the fire. Signora emerged from thin air and caught it before it could crash onto the floor, setting it calmly down on the table. You froze, shocked and partially wondering if she was a hallucination. Her beauty certainly seemed beyond the realm of understanding; she wore a black silk gown studded with blood-red gems, elbow-length gloves and a smile glorious enough to raise the dead. She watched you try to gather your wits with a bemused expression, and when your brain finally caught up with her sudden appearance you bowed and stammered out a greeting in an attempt to gloss over your initial shock.

“Good evening, my lady.” Her smile grew; you’d learnt the correct way of addressing her. She quite liked the way her title sounded on your tongue, almost as much as she’d liked the wide-eyed look of astonishment on your face, “To- to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She lowered herself into one of the armchairs

“Do I need a reason to visit?” She asked, crossing one leg over the other and raising an eyebrow.

“You’re always welcome here, my lady,” you replied, straightening and regaining some of your composure. You busied yourself with taking out the tea set and grabbing a serving of your most expensive leaves, mostly so you could avoid her gaze and knowing smile.

“I hear you’ve taken to hiding away a servant girl in your chambers,” she said as you passed her a cup. You stiffened slightly, glancing up at her and hoping she hadn’t taken offence; just in case, you quickly cycled through potential responses to avoid an uncomfortable situation. Noticing your dilemma, she laughed and took a sip of her tea.

“Relax, little one. I can practically hear you worrying.”

You chuckled awkwardly, toying with your glasses.

“Now, I do in fact have an ulterior motive for paying you this visit,” she began, leaning back in the chair and surveying you through her one visible eye. Her statement didn’t surprise you in the slightest; it made perfect sense that a Harbinger would exercise a measure of cunning.

“You see, our yearly gala to strengthen some political connections is just around the corner.” Your brow furrowed; what did that have to do with you? “My fellow Harbingers and I would like you to attend.”

You blinked. Raised your eyebrows. Fidgeted with your gloves. Anything to fill the silence before she redacted or rephrased the statement. Your scepticism only grew when she made no move to do so, instead revelling in your bewilderment with that half-lidded look of sheer satisfaction.

“My lady, I fail to see what my presence will contribute to such an important event.”

“You’re too humble. Why, I hear the Akademiya is frothing at the mouth with rage over losing a genius like you!”

You hesitated and sat down across from her to process, refraining from pointing out that you largely came to Snezhnaya on the basis of subtle threats from them.

“Surely one needs more than intellect to gain such an invite.”

“And you, little one, are the whole package!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh. It was odd, how she’d been stinging and harsh the first time you met, and now she was all smiles and cordiality. You wondered which side was her true one, and marvelled at how both temperaments fit her like a second skin. “It’s a wonderful opportunity to show you off.”

You stared at her blankly. It had been a long day, and you were not in the mood to engage in verbal acrobatics.

“I still don’t see the purpose of the invitation, my lady.”

She sighed. “Oh, well. Your presence is expected either way.”

You frowned. A big social event where you’d most likely be alone was not an appealing prospect. “My lady, please. I don’t think my schedule will allow for it, and I’m certain the invitation will be better received by a more influential member of the Fatui.”

“Do you plan on rejecting the invitation I went to such lengths to acquire for you, little one?”

You were trapped, and she smiled because she knew it. You let out a sigh of defeat, running a hand through your hair. “Yes, my lady,” you murmured, a touch of your dreariness seeping into your voice.

“Good, good,” she all but purred, adjusting her fur collar and rising from her chair. At least she was leaving so you could go to sleep. You followed her to the door, taking off your glasses to rub your tired eyes. The day was beginning to catch up to you, and the knowledge that you’d have to partake in a magnanimous social event did nothing to lessen your exhaustion; already you were beginning to worry about the overwhelmingly likely prospect that you wouldn’t know anyone at the gala. How bothersome. Signora paused in the doorway. “I’ll have the servant girl inform you of the details, since you’re so fond of her to the point where you’ll let her hide in your room.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. She made it seem so shameful, like an unforgivable sin that you should have been mortified to commit. You locked the door the moment she stepped out, feeling rather cheerless and vexed at more or less everyone in the palace. With a grumble, you grabbed the warming packet you’d designed in secondary school and shook it with perhaps more force than strictly necessary to trigger the flaming flower stamen within it. It was quite the handy little thing, utilising the flower’s reaction to nearby movement to heat up the agnidus agate within. You were especially thankful for it here in Snezhnaya, where the nights stung with a bitter cold that couldn’t be dispelled by a hundred blankets. At least I have a warm bed, you reasoned dejectedly to yourself, collapsing into it. Maybe I should run away and forge a new identity to avoid this damn gala.

The morning brought a splitting headache (predictable) and clear skies (surprising). No snow fell, and though the world was blanketed with the perpetual layer of white you could glimpse snatches of a frosted-over pale blue sky through the stained glass of your window; you admired it from the comfort of your bed. You moved to get up, but a precise and agonising throb in your skull abruptly put a stop to that plan, and you collapsed back onto the mattress with a pained groan. After a few moments, you tried to sit up again; your head pounded even harder, as though in warning, and an ache began to form behind your eyes. Cursing under your breath, you rootled through the drawer of the nightstand for a bottle of your special all-cure. You’d concocted it specifically for your body mass, metabolism and stomach acidity, and even done the same for a few others and sold it as a custom medicine, so it worked like a charm. If only it tasted half-decent, you lamented as its acridity burned your throat on the way down. Kaeya had likened it to drinking cheap liquor, and Kaveh had taken a similar stance. Still, they gladly asked for refills of it every year when winter struck, much to your eternal smugness.

You stumbled out of bed with a groan, rubbing the painful spot on your neck. The beginnings of a cold were settling in your throat and chest, and you resigned yourself to going to the dining hall that day to fetch a few jueyun chilis and performing a quick whopperflower nectar extraction in the lab to dispel it. How troublesome.

A knock sounded at your door just as you were lacing up your boots.

“Come in,” you said without looking up, knowing it would be Anya. She stepped inside, carrying a tray laden with a breakfast you wouldn’t eat and insist she have instead. You’d grown used to her presence, fond of her even, and you smiled at her as she walked in. With Childe in tow. Your eyebrows quirked up in surprise, and you rose to your feet and moved to grab your cloak from where it was draped across the back of your chair. Which it blatantly wasn’t. You frowned.

“Anya, Lord Eleven,” you greeted them, patting Anya’s shoulder as she walked past you to set the tray on the table in front of the fireplace. Childe eyed the motion, mildly jealous. Not that you noticed, too preoccupied with looking for your cloak. “Good morning to you both.”

Anya remained silent, clearly nervous from the Harbinger’s presence. Childe had no such reservations; he strode up to you and ruffled your hair, undeterred by your glare. He’d made it a habit, much to your chagrin.

“Why so cold, Trixy? I came all this way and all you can offer me is a ‘Lord Eleven?’”

“I suppose you’d prefer ‘sweetheart?’” You deadpanned, your tone wry. He grinned.

“I would, actually.”

You brushed his response off, rummaging through your closet for your cloak. You were beginning to get irritated; the barely-receding headache and your lost cloak weren’t helping in the slightest.

“What’re you looking for?” He asked, leaning in from behind you to survey the closet’s interior.

“My damn cloak.”

“Oh, that stylish thing? You’ve lost it?” He’d noticed you weren’t wearing it the moment you opened the door; he was surprised to see you without it. Normally you had it over your clothes, and in its absence he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on your figure. Knit turtlenecks looked unfairly good on you.

“Evidently,” you bit out, slamming the closet door shut. His eyes caught on the flowers painted at the base of it. Those hadn’t been there before; he’d know, this had been his room and he’d pulled several strings to make you its new resident. Cute. You liked to paint. You ran a hand through your hair with a disgruntled sigh, pondering your options. Or lack thereof; you’d spent a hefty chunk of mora on that cloak and you didn’t have an adequate replacement, especially considering the looming threat of getting sick.

“Damn it all,” you muttered under your breath, clipping your pocket watch onto your belt.

“What, don’t have anything else to wear?”

“No. Don’t sound so bloody smug about it,” you added. He chuckled; it was thoroughly enjoyable when you became aggravated enough to let go of just a bit of your polite facade.

“I can lend you something,” he suggested, leaning his shoulder against the closet. “For the right price,” he added with a wink. You shot him an unimpressed look, then let it drop off your face with sigh; you really didn’t have any other choice. It was either accept Childe’s help or increase the risk of getting sick by a significant margin, and catching a cold was very close to the bottom of your to-do list.

‘Alright,” you conceded with a resigned air.

“Great. I’ll be right back, then.” He sauntered out of the door, clearly pleased with himself though you couldn’t pinpoint why; he probably liked having you ask him for something, you concluded. (The idea of you wearing his clothes just excited him.)

You sighed and turned to Anya, who was hovering over the table with her hands clasped in front of her. “Thank you for the breakfast,” you said with a brief smile. “Would you eat it in my stead once I leave?”

She laughed quietly. “It’s a shame you refuse to have breakfast, miss. Isn’t it meant to be the most important meal of the day?”

“Gluconeogenesis will do just fine.” You knew she’d appreciate the joke, as she was a student in a Snezhnayan academy who’d taken the biology pathway. Sure enough, she chuckled under her breath.

“If you say so, miss.”

Childe returned a moment later with a white coat in his arms. You made to take it from him with a muttered ‘thank you,’ but instead he stepped behind you and draped it over your shoulders, gesturing at you to slip your arms through the sleeves.

“Ah- thank you, but there’s no need for that, really,” you said as he adjusted the prominent collar, a little embarrassed. He ruffled your hair, and you grudgingly let him.

“Nonsense. It looks fantastic on you, Trixy.”

You let out an amused chuckle, rolling up the long sleeves. It was clearly made for someone with broader shoulders and a taller frame than you; the hem fell almost to your knees and the seam of the shoulder was too far down your arm. Still, it was warm, and you appreciated it.

“Thank you again, Eleven,” you replied with a small, earnest smile. Childe was immensely grateful you looked away to grab some paperwork so you wouldn’t see the love-struck look on his face. You’d never smiled at him without a bite of irony before. “I’ll return it to you as soon as I’ve found my cloak.” He was almost disappointed.

“It’s no rush, you’re welcome,” he replied when his tongue finally started working again. You left the room and he followed you.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you or Lady Eight,” you added off-handedly, weaving between the crowds of people in the hallways. “Do you know anyone named ‘Regrator?’”

“Huh? What do you need him for?”

“The Doctor told me I should ask him about why I didn’t get a mask. Or a uniform, for that matter. Where could I find him? Who is he, anyway?”

Childe followed close behind you as you made your way up the spiral staircase to the lab.

“Well, Regrator is the Ninth Harbinger’s code name.”

You paused in your tracks, glancing back at him with a surprised expression.

“Really, now? Why would the Doctor refer me to him for matters as trivial as a recruit’s uniform?”

Childe shrugged. “He’s the banker, to put it simply.”

“That… doesn’t offer a very satisfactory explanation. Is the delegation of work among the Harbingers devoid of logic?”

“Sure,” he allowed with a laugh.

“Right.” You sighed, starting back up the stairs and mulling over this new information. It was unlikely you’d be able to get an audience with a Harbinger you had no affiliation with, much less for something as inconsequential as a missing uniform.

“Why do you want a mask, anyway?” Childe prodded. The world was all the better with your eyes on display, he thought.

“It’s unreasonable for every other employee to have one with me as the exception.”

“You’re just special like that, Trixy,” he teased.

“Oh, yes, I am simply bursting with individuality,” you quipped back. “The first candidate who comes to mind for exclusive treatment.” Reaching the door to the lab, you tapped the four corners and knocked twice on the centre with the knuckle of your index finger. You turned back to Childe as it swung open.

“I’ll see you in the dining hall today,” you informed him.

“Finally you decide we’re worthy of your presence! What brought about the change in heart?”

“I need some jueyun chilis from the kitchen,” you reply over your shoulder as you head into the lab.

“I’ll hold you to your promise!” He called as the door slammed shut behind you.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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budgiegryphon · 9 months

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This year's r/place really fucking sucked, terribly run and an obvious(failed) distraction, but we did get some nice stuff done

Another bench! 45 communities! Here's the fully planned piece, Quote sadly got added last minute and wasn't visible before blackout.

Full character list below the cut.

Batter from OFF, Beheaded from Dead Cells, Ori from Ori and the blind forest, Bugs from APICO above Ori, Moon from Outer Wilds next to bugs, Purple guy from FnAF, Mae from Night in the woods, Omori from Omori, Commando from Risk of Rain, Madeline from Celeste above Commando, Engi, Bosco and Lootbug from Deep Rock Galactic, Soul Knight logo below Engi, Tiny Niko on top of Bosco, Sprite Companion from Hyperlight Drifter next to Tiny Niko, Isaac from Binding of Isaac, Chompy from Bug Fables underneath Isaac, Engineer from Factorio, Strabby on Engineer's shoulder, a penguin from Starbound, Junimo from Stardew Valley, Oneshot bulb above Stardew Valley's apple, A router from Mindustry, Keg from sea of thieves, Lamb from Cult of the Lamb sitting on the keg, Monika from DDLC above Lamb, Fishbowl from FSSH, Spooky from Spooky's Jumpscare Mansion, Whiteface and flower from IMSCARED above Spooky, V1 from Ultrakill, The Conductor from Final Station in front of V1's legs, Moth from Sky: Children of the Light above V1, Apollo from Ace Attorney bottom right of V1, Gnome from Everhood, Rivulet on Looks to the Moon from Rain World, Gail from Phoenotopia above Rivulet, Captain Viridian from VVVVVV above Gail, Flowey from Undertale below Looks to the Moon, Grimm from Hollow Knight, Paprika from Them's Fighting Herds above Grimm, Deltarune red heart above Strabby, King Slime in front of Grimm, The Spiral Heart from Grime next to Grimm, Carp from Lisa, Richard Mask from Hotline Miami above The Spiral Heart

#despite being horribly stressful there was also a lot of fun #shoutout to purple guy batter and richard for just appearing out of the ether #and the fssh people for successfully gaslighting everyone afterward about whether the game actually existed #and that one streamer who got so fucking mad that he couldn't successfully take over our spot #we had people saying the bench might be full at 16 characters and I think that got taken as a challenge #it went a whole DAY longer than it was supposed to and we all got burned out lmao #I coordinated this thing and was dreaming about bench negotiations the night after #conclusion reddit is a terrible place but the indie game people remain cool #sigh. tagwall time.#r/place #ultrakill #hollow knight #rain world #off #ori #dead cells #apico #night in the woods #omori #risk of rain #deep rock galactic #cult of the lamb #oneshot #spooky's jumpscare mansion #stardew valley #sky children of the light #bugsnax #hotline miami #grime game what is yalls tag #everhood

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lucerocosplay · 5 months

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Shohki Mask Cover

construction notes & photos under the cut

This has been a long time coming! I'm glad she's a costume I can work a mask into without it breaking the design of the character. I feel like people would be less inclined to ask that you remove it for photos this way ^^;

I went with a very thin cotton gauze fabric (#9 "coffee" if you're wondering), think a slightly thicker cheese cloth. It's very breathable as a single layer and seemed the best choice for an N95 cover. The shape was really only achievable with this fabric because of the shape of my mask underneath, and some strategically placed 1/2" wide horsehair braid tubing from the dollar tree. I usually stock up around halloween but they stock around christmas too!

Process is very straight forward, just traced my mask on the fold and made some rough adjustments for a card stock mock up. I like 90-110 lbs for this sort of thing but construction paper can work in a pinch too. Cut that out and fit to my face, tweaked the placement on the nose bridge and added a 1/4" allowance for bias tape/facing, and appropriate allowance for flat felled seams.

The ear tab was extended to cover the mask underneath, and included allowance for support fabric (denim scrap in my case) to support two eyelets intended to thread the elastic of my mask through. Then it was just patterning out the rest of the mask elements and making note of seam allowance and how to cut each piece. I trimmed the tape holding together the card stock mask apart and finally got to cutting out the fabric once that was done.

There isn't anything fancy going on, the hardest part was just the inset mesh panel over the weirdly shaped keyhole cut outs on the mouth piece. It's just black nylon mesh typically used for interfacing bras sewn on after making the keyholes.

This fabric is like if toilet paper were a textile, which is great for breatheability and weight but absolutely hell for machine work like this. It's not for a competition so for me, hiding messy stitching with weathering later was ok.

The portion of the mask running from the underside of each ear tab was finished with homemade bias tape. The same method was used for finishing the top portion that runs over the bridge of my nose. The ends were simply folded and sewn down at the ear tabs for a clean finish.

The side "filters" have an extra 1/2" long extension so I can tack in the ends of some horse hair tubing, then double fold the fabric back into itself before hand tacking with tiny stitches from the outside. That helps the light fabric balloon out into that shape, along with another layer of that same mesh interfacing.

They are really fun actually, very floppy with great movement. Though they stick out a tad too much so I did add one small french tack to the center of each to help them point downwards but retain that movement. The "filter" took the most hand finishing out of the whole thing, but that was to be expected.

Once the little side "filters" were sewn in, there was just light weathering to do. I wanted to add some shadows and potential "mold spores" to certain areas to really make the texture pop and hide some messy stitching. Light passes with a dry brush and some acrylic helped a lot, so did referencing photos of mold growth on clothes.

It was a pass of burnt sienna along all seams and large patches where high humidity would accumulate. Then another lighter pass of burnt umber to deepen up areas, and some very sparse areas of white. Finally I wanted to give it the "blue cheese special" and mixed a little viridian green and that same white and hit the white areas first then dry brushed the spaces between mold patches. I'm trying to replicate active mold colonies so reference photos came in handy here. I also used some nail polish to match the grommets to fabric.

Maybe when I am not crunched for time I will get around to digitizing the pattern, but for now I hope the photos help anyone else trying to plan out a mask. Obviously the shape will change a lot depending on the sort of fabric and mask you have on under it, not to mention face shape. I would imagine bifolds would give you more her classic feed bag profile than an origami style mask, however.

#my cosplay #cosplay wip #nausicaa #nausicaa of the valley of the wind #ghibli cosplay

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 11 months

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High Maintenance

A/N- After being with my boyfriend for a month (it went by so fast!!) he’s told me that he actually loves that i’m high maintenance 🫢 which is amazing for me 😍 i know Eddie would be exactly the same way c:

Summary- You and Eddie are spending the night doing all your favorite things

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None :)

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @eddiesrockstargirlfriend @the-sander-fander

Word Count- 1.7k

“So what is this stuff called again?” Eddie asked as you slathered more of the cold, goopy substance all over his face.

He had always wanted to know all the little routines you did to keep yourself looking pretty. He knew having a girlfriend that was high maintenance was a pretty big job in and of itself, but after showing him all the things you did to keep up with your appearance he saw how much work it was for you.

Your hair was always gorgeous, your nails were always done in different colors and designs, your makeup was always done perfectly, and even when you weren’t all done up it was still a lot of work. Skincare, moisturizers, exfoliators, the best shampoos and conditioners. Eddie would always see the work you out into your appearance and he wanted to be able to experience it too.

Quite honestly, you were surprised that he even thought of doing a beauty night with you.

You had gotten into your pajamas and he basically let you use him as a guinea pig all night. He wanted to go through all your routines with you, and then some.

You giggled as you used the little silicone brush to spread the mask over his face,

“It’s just called a face mask,” You looked at the label on the little jar you were using for him, making sure it was the perfect one for him, “it’s different than mine, since you’ve never done one i grabbed the one i have for sensitive skin.”

You smiled as you finished spreading the mask over his face, looking him over with a giggle at your lips seeing the state he was in.

His curls were tied up high with one of your velvet scrunchies to make sure his hair wouldn’t get damaged, one of your spare plush headbands were keeping his flyaways out of his face, his eyebrows were plucked perfectly, although he didn’t sit so nicely through that, and the lilac mask covering his face was too adorable for you to not giggle at.

He opened his eyes and scrunched his face up a bit at the feeling of the cold mask on his face,

“Is it supposed to harden like this?” He asked you, gently tapping his fingers to the part of the mask on his nose that had already slightly dried.

“Yes, and don’t touch it!” You pulled his hand away from his face, “You have to let it dry and then you carefully peel it away. And i’ll show you how to do it so you don’t get it all sticky everywhere.”

He playfully rolled his eyes as you swatted his hand away, watching as you began applying it to yourself, impressing him as he watched you apply it without a mirror.

“Damn, you must do this a lot huh?”

“Of course i do,” You applied the final layer over your cheeks and set the bowl onto the counter, “it takes a lot to look this pretty.”

“I know. But you really don’t need to do all this stuff (y/n), you know i think you’re beautiful no matter what.”

“I know i don’t have to do all this stuff,” You checked Eddie’s face in the mirror and saw that his mask was fully dried, “i like doing it. Lots of girls like doing things like this. Getting their nails and hair done, makeup, skincare, all that fancy stuff. Some girls like it, some girls don’t, we all do different things to make ourselves feel good.”

He nodded at your explanation, not fully realizing how much work you really put into making yourself feel beautiful. He knew that you never did any of those things for him, or any other guy for that matter, you did it for you.

“Alright, i think your mask is finally set… Scrunch your face up a little bit for me.” He did as you said and groaned at the mask tugging at his skin.

“Is it supposed to feel this weird? It’s like having to wear someone else’s skin on top of mine, you like getting to do this?” He asked you as you giggled.

You looked underneath his chin and saw the edges of the mask beginning to lift,

“i love getting to do it! You’ll see, it may feel weird but the payoff is worth being a little uncomfortable.” You reached your fingers out and carefully pulled at the edges of his mask, “Now, don’t pull upward, pull down and out. And be careful! You don’t want to irritate your skin.”

He sighed and his fingers gently grabbed at the edges of his mask just below his chin, doing as you told him to and slowly pulling downward on the mask. You were right, it was a bit uncomfortable, but he could feel how refreshing the air felt against his face as he pulled the rest of the mask off, smiling to himself as he held the light purple silicone like sheet in his hands,

“Damn, it’s like i really was wearing someone else’s skin.”

You smiled and checked your own in the mirror, doing the same as Eddie and removing it with ease and holding it up with his. He smiled at the little size differences in your masks, admiring your features without even really meaning to.

The faucet was turned on, the warm water running into your hands as you gently washed the excess mask off of your face, Eddie following soon after you as you dabbed your face dry with the hand towel at your side. You smiled and dried off Eddie’s face for him, making sure to be extra careful around his eyes. He always insisted they were too sensitive.

You gave him a quick kiss before setting the towel down onto the counter and pulling out a little tub of lotion from the medicine cabinet,

“Alright, now we moisturize.”

“More face stuff?” Eddie asked as he watched you take a small amount onto your fingers and massage it into your face.

“Yes, but this is the last thing! i promise!”

Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, he’d heard that same sentence at least three other times that night.

He once again did the same as you, taking a little bit onto his fingers and massaging it into his face. You looked at yourselves in the mirror, so clean and looking brand new. It was your favorite part of doing all these little routines, and you were hoping that after going through it all with Eddie he could finally see all the work you put into yourself.

“There.” You twisted the lid back onto the lotion and placed it back into its spot in the medicine cabinet, “All done.”

Eddie looked at his face in the mirror and made sure to see it from all angles, enjoying the feeling of how light and fresh his skin felt. For doing all this so called ‘girl stuff’ it was actually quite nice for him to feel this way. He may even take a few notes from you and figure out a little routine for himself.

He looked down to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing your forehead,

“And we look so pretty, all thanks to you.”

You giggled and nuzzled into his side, looking up to him,

“Now for your favorite part…”

He gasped excitedly,

“Snuggle?” He had the cutest smile on his lips, and you could just tell this is what he was waiting all day for.

You nodded and let out a little squeak as Eddie quickly picked you up and placed you over his shoulder, giving your butt a little smack as he exited the bathroom and walked back into his bedroom, nearly tossing you onto his bed.

“You stay there, i’ll be right back.”

Eddie left you on his bed and you made yourself comfortable under his blanket, wondering where he had wandered off too so suddenly.

He quickly came back with a bag of chips in his hand and two cold cans of pop from the fridge in the other, setting them down next to you in the bed before going to his collection of VHS tapes.

“What’re we thinking tonight babe?”

“I’m not sure,” You reached over and opened up the bag of chips, “you pick. You let me make you all pretty so it’s only fair i let you pick the movie.”

Eddie nodded and chose one of the many horror movies he had, knowing that would be the perfect thing for snuggling, but he quickly turned around as soon as he heard the little clinking of the tab snapping back on one of the cans of pop.

“(y/n)!” He shouted, making you jump in your seat.

“What? What did i do?” You asked him.

He walked over to you and took the van from your hands, popping the tab open and handing it back to you.

“You JUST did your nails.”

You giggled and took a sip as he pushed the tape into the VHS player and climbed into bed next to you, throwing the blanket over his lap and putting his arm around your shoulder. He leaned over to place a quick kiss onto your forehead as the opening credits of the movie started.

“So from now on i’m not allowed to open my pop cans?” You asked him with a giggle, Eddie reached his hand into the bag between you and pulled out a chip, holding it out to you as if he was trying to feed it to you. You caught on and opened your mouth, letting him place it between your lips before crunching down onto it.

“Absolutely not. Especially now that i know all the work you put into getting yourself all prettied up, i don’t want you to ruin them.”

“Aww, thanks baby,” You leaned up and kissed his jawline, “i really liked doing all that stuff with you.”

“You know, i liked it too! I think i might start doing some of that stuff too.” He tightened his grip on your shoulder, pulling you in closer to him, “Maybe you can show me how to do some more hair stuff in the shower next time.”

He whispered into your ear and you playfully rolled your eyes,

“Fine. But that means you’re washing my hair for me.”

“Fine by me sweetheart.”

You relaxed yourself into him as the movie started playing, settling into bed for the night after such a calming evening. You knew Eddie was going to ask for more pampering nights. And as long as he was giving you your princess treatment you were happy to oblige.

Who knew you loved having someone to open your pop cans for you.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader

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crookshallowao3 · 2 months

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Izuku can feel someone prowling in his wake as he moves through the city. He’s been doing this for weeks. Hunting him down and joining in on Izuku’s patrol. It’s still strange, to have Kacchan trailing behind him.

It was always the other way around.

He tips backwards off a roof and waits for him to catch up. Might as well.

When he comes into view, the telescopic sight is no longer lined up for a shot, the massive gun strapped across his back. Small knives litter the orange X of his vest where it secures across his chest. The dark ensemble comes with a mask, but Kacchan only wears it half the time. He seems to have ditched it now, and his red eyes gleam against a wild shock of white blonde hair. Izuku knows he keeps explosives in the belt on his waist.

Katsuki’s costume is made up of the flash-bang orange of someone else's war, and Izuku’s is a quiet black with radioactive viridian sheen. Both a product of their origin stories. Izuku swallows down a seething sick that they no longer have the same one.

It isn’t quite Kacchan anymore. At least, not the version he knew. This is Zero. He seems sharp, deadly. He is deadly.

If it weren’t for the profile of the targets Zero accepts, or the fact that Izuku was still pathetically, dangerously half in love with him: Izuku would have taken him off the streets already.

#mha #my hero academia #ao3 #bakudeku #bakugo katsuki #mha bkdk #deku #midoriya izuku #archive of our own #vigilante deku #vigilante izuku #bkdk #bkdk fic #ao3fic #bkdk fanfic #fanfiction #kacchan

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spottlessspectre · 12 days

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Did- did- did- did you say HTTYD AU on your wip game?

YES I DID AND I'M LOVING PLANNING IT OUT

At the moment I've got a base plan for backstories and character's relationships and things to do with them.

Here's a brief bit of Ghost's gang :]

Simon (Ghost)- will be around 21 years old, rides a stormcutter(more on her in a few) son of a dragon hunter, on his first mission for his father they were sold out by one of his superiors and ended up in a fighting ring against people, dragons and animals, this is where he meets the dragon he rides. He eventually escaped and became the Ghost (his dragon is referred to as the phantom) and spends his time hunting down traffickers of any kind.

Starglider(the phantom): an above average sized female stormcutter, she is mainly a really dark purple and blue with black(think of galaxy pictures) and while she has a few spots on her body, she has a distinct white patch on her face which Ghost copied for his mask. Has prominent scars near her wings as that was the closest hunters could get.

Farah (the Blaze): about 20, Ghost rescued her from a trafficking ring (unfortunately a sex trafficking one this time, but i wont go into detail about her experiences) and they became fast friends in taking down traffickers (very scary sight for anyone given their amazing teamwork in battle) rescued her dragon from a fighting ring and worked to heal wings.

Cinders(the inferno): an average sized female typhoomerang, vibrant red markings and an unusually dusty yellow/orange head with lots of scars on wings from capture time, Farah spent a lot of time healing her wings and ended up bonding with her. When they use the fire tornado thing Farah jumps into the air beforehand (Ghost and Starglider catch her) so that Cinders can go full out without hurting her rider.

Rudy (haven't come up with a name for him yet): maybe 23, ran away from his family as they were abusive, got lost in the nearby woodland and somehow bonded with a young scauldron. Met Ghost and his group when he and his dragon were flying by a hunting ship and didn't realise, they were shot and ended up being rescued and taken back to their hideout, where they have been ever since.

Viridian: an average sized female scauldron with lots of dark greens and light green patterning that looks like light on water, she is very protective of Rudy and only lets people and dragons she trusts near him. Scarring ner her tail from running away from hunters (successfully)

Gary (the Roach): met Ghost when he was found floating half dead in the sea and they nursed him back to health- he met his dragon as he was the one who found him floating and brought him back to the hideout. Is an avid tinkerer and developed a lot of their gear and even made himself goggles with glass. Is selectively mute due to his experience with hunters (do you sense a theme in how they all have trauma?) So I thought it'd be interesting to make him ride a thunderdrum (as I have been reliably informed they are basically deaf) so I could play around with how they communicate. He developed a personal sign language as well as learning the universal one used by most vikings- all of the gang know the sign language- he also created a code similar to morse to communicate in the dark, and a tapping system for his dragon.

Klank: a smaller than average male thunderdrum with deep purple markings and some blue spots on his back, chipped teeth from chewing metal because he lacks braincells as well as hearing.

#cod #cod fic #wip game #ao3 #httyd #httyd au #ghostsoap #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #farah karim #rudolfo parra #dragons

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talktomeinclexa · 4 months

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Wanna Be My Pandemic Buddy?

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of Covid

Status: Complete (19/19)

Summary: When Clarke, a graphic designer stuck at home during the lockdown hears about the Dutch Institute for Public Health’s official guidance to find someone to “share physical contact with” to limit the risks, she realizes that this might be her chance to get Lexa, her beautiful neighbor, into her bed. They start sleeping together and the chemistry is amazing, but will they manage to get over their emotional constipation before the pandemic ends?

***

Day 1: Agreement

Adjusting her mask for the nth time, Clarke took a deep breath to steel her nerves and resolutely knocked on the door of apartment 4B, across the hall from hers.

Luckily for her, the stupid cotton rectangle covering half of her face hid her instinctive smile when the door opened. Even though she hadn’t been out in days and wore sweatpants and a comfortable T-shirt, her neighbor was as gorgeous as always. And the best part was, in her hurry to answer the knock, Lexa hadn’t bothered to put on a mask, leaving Clarke free to admire the pouty lips she had been dreaming of kissing more and more recently.

“Clarke, hi. Is everything all right? Do you need something?”

“Hi, Lexa. How are you?”

A perfectly plucked eyebrow rose at the tentative small talk. Ever since the number of Covid-19 cases exploded, the government had put in place a series of strict measures to contain the pandemic. Closed borders, masks at all times, social distancing, restaurants and gathering places closed for the time being… Telecommuting was the new norm, and companies developed new tools every day to facilitate digital communication.

As a result, the news outlets reported fewer and fewer new cases every day. But with social quasi-nonexistent interactions, people felt lonelier than ever. Knocking on your neighbor’s door to chitchat was highly discouraged, and Lexa hadn’t expected any visitor.

Still, she was nice enough not to close her door in Clarke’s face, and, encouraged by her curiosity, Clarke carried on. “Have you watched or read the news recently?”

“Not really, no. All they talk about is the pandemic; it’s depressing. Why? Did I miss something?”

“Well, the Dutch Institute for Public Health released an official guidance a few days ago that might pique your interest. With the current danger we face every time we meet someone, they recommend single people find a person to have regular contact with. That way, we can enjoy physical contact while limiting the risks of spreading the virus.”

To her credit, Lexa didn’t outright laugh or slam the door in Clarke’s face, and that counted as a small victory. Instead, she looked at her with curiosity and a glint of something mischievous in her viridian eyes. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about sex, right?”

“Yes. Sex.” Clarke nodded, proud of herself for not blushing too hard or stuttering. “Or you know, cuddles are allowed too. Physical contact in general.”

“Hmm. And you want me to be your ‘cuddle’ buddy? Why me?”

Keep reading

#clexa #clexa fic #wanna be my pandemic buddy #PWP #I finally reedited this one #two idiots falling in love during the Covid crisis

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tanetime · 9 months

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SORRY reposting this as its own thing bc tumblr was cluttered.

I finally got what feels very close to a finalised design for Viridian, after getting a lot of help from some friends.

Small amount of rambling under the cut.

Amber and Viridian are actually altered versions of Crimson and Azure’s masks. They’re different people, but draw a lot of their personality from who they were derived from.

Viridian is super friendly and cares a lot about the people around him, just like Azure. However he’s a lot more boisterous! He’s not a child, but he kind of has the goofy labrador energy of a young shonen protagonist. He’s very reckless and tends to throw himself at things without thinking.

I don’t have a concrete skillset for him yet because working with green gems is very difficult (both in coming up with ideas AND making sure those ideas aren’t overpowered), but I like the idea that he has immense destructive power that he has no control over. Like you pick a bad day to give him a high five and he obliterates all of the bones in your hands instantly like “OMGGGG IM SORRRYYYYYYY.”

I was brainstorming ideas with a friend once and mentioned maybe giving Viridian an ability that works like the Thumper to knock down trees/destroy structures. But I was like “that’s a bit silly, it’s like griefing.” But now Werebeaver can do that so, huh.

Anyway I hope me posting this marks an end to me redesigning this idiot.

#tane t art #tane t doodles #wyneer #viridian mask #my ocs

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supernovaa-remnant · 2 months

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Eurydice

c!dreambur | two-shot | 3.9k words | semi-canon compliant

“Maybe Orpheus should’ve just let Eurydice go,” Wilbur murmurs. // Wilbur hesitates. “You didn’t let go,” he whispers. “Of you?” Dream manages to say. “I could never.”

for this month's @sixteenth-day-event!! I used the prompts "a night under the stars" and "one powerful gift"

Dream brings them to a small clearing away from Pogtopia and away from the rest of the server. He places a few torches around to ward off mobs, though none seem to be around at the moment. It’s peaceful. So peaceful that, when Dream settles down on the grass, he barely even hesitates before removing his mask. The cool air hits his face, and as he takes a deep breath, he’s reminded of how much he’s missed the sensation of the breeze brushing against his cheeks.

“Bringing me out to a secluded place to gaze at the stars and taking off your mask? How romantic,” Wilbur says with a chuckle, breaking Dream out of his reverie as the older man sits beside him, so close that their arms are almost touching.

“You’re the one who said you had something urgent to discuss with me. I’m simply making sure no one overhears,” Dream says, deliberately ignoring the fact that his words don’t fully address Wilbur’s.

But instead of responding further, Wilbur reaches a hand out and cups Dream’s face softly, his thumb gently rubbing along Dream’s cheekbone. It makes Dream’s breath momentarily hitch in his throat, and his reaction causes a small smirk to spread across Wilbur’s face. The brunet’s gaze flickers downwards. Dream’s heartbeat picks up despite his best efforts, but just as he begins to lean in, Wilbur pulls away.

Dream purses his lips whilst Wilbur lays back on the ground, turning his attention to the stars above and away from Dream.

“What’s this urgent thing you wanted to discuss?” Dream asks, averting his own gaze and biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stave off the disappointment that threatens to invade his mind.

“How familiar are you with the constellations, Dream?” Wilbur asks instead of answering the question.

“Wilbur–”

A hand grabs his wrist. His attention is pulled back to Wilbur like it always is. It’s like an inevitability, viridian pulled to brown like the tides are pulled by the moon. But it’s Wilbur who looks away first, a break in their usual routine that leaves Dream taken aback. It’s not often that he wins their stare offs, and he finds himself not quite sure what to do with the victory.

“There’s nothing urgent,” Wilbur admits. “I just wanted to get out of Pogtopia for the night.” Wilbur chuckles softly, looking up at the stars like they’re the only witness to his confession. “I wanted to briefly escape the narrative before tomorrow comes.”

Dream frowns. There’s a hint of resignation when Wilbur says the words, but no matter how much Dream tries to pick it apart, he can’t quite figure out why Wilbur sounds that way.

“Tomorrow will be fine,” Dream says in a flimsy attempt to console the other. “It’s all going to go according to plan.”

Wilbur hums. “You’re right,” he says, “my symphony will play the final note I intend for it.”

The hand around Dream’s wrist rubs circles into his skin. He simultaneously wants to lean into the touch and pull away from it, so he makes a compromise by pulling away but laying side by side with Wilbur, so close that Wilbur’s knuckles occasionally brush against his own.

“How familiar are you with the constellations?” Wilbur asks again.

Dream stares up at the void above, littered with pin-pricks of light. His mind picks out the familiar stars—Polaris, Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka—as well as the familiar constellations—Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major and Minor, and Cassiopeia. The night sky is a well-known sight to him, and he’s spent countless nights looking up at it, but the constellations are more elusive to his mind. But he doesn’t need to know the names of constellations and the imaginary lines that connect them in order to use the stars as a guide.

“Familiar enough,” he answers. “They’re useful for navigation.”

Out of all navigation techniques, the stars are the most constant. Compasses aren’t accessible to everyone, and maps are too situated to specific servers. The stars, though, are the same no matter what. He’s been navigating with the stars for almost as long as he can remember—they’re more of a constant than all the people in his life, and though the thought feels bitter, it’s nothing but the truth. Bad had tried to teach him to read maps when they’d first met, but it hadn’t quite clicked in his brain, not like the stars had. Maps came in all sorts of forms, showcasing rivers and elevation and towns, and it was all much more than he could keep track of, even with Bad’s attempts at help. But with the stars, as long as he finds Polaris, he can go anywhere.

“I don’t know how to navigate with the stars,” Wilbur admits.

“It’s not that difficult,” Dream responds. “You just need to find the North Star, and you’re pretty much set from there.”

“I’m sure it’s easy,” Wilbur says, “I’ve just never tried.”

Wilbur’s knuckles brush against his yet again, and the contact sends sparks through his body. He uses all of his willpower to keep his gaze towards the sky.

“I’m more familiar with the myths behind the constellations, myself,” Wilbur says. “Techno used to tell me the stories whenever he’d visit Phil.”

“Tell me about them,” Dream says quietly, like daring to say a request, of all things, any louder would be revealing his hand.

Wilbur points to a region of stars that looks relatively unremarkable even to Dream’s trained eyes. He stares, trying to find the constellation before Wilbur shows it to him, but his efforts are in vain.

“It’s a bit difficult to see,” Wilbur says, “but it looks like a rhombus with an upside down triangle attached to its upper right corner.”

Dream blinks.

“What’s it supposed to be?” He asks, eyes still searching the sky. He stops on what he thinks might be the constellation, but it’s not that difficult to make simple shapes out of the stars.

“It’s the constellation Lyra. It represents Orpheus’ lyre from Greek mythology,” Wilbur explains.

Dream looks at the shape in the sky and tries to imagine the invisible lines becoming a more complex invisible image, but he finds the task increasingly difficult when he realizes he’s not entirely sure what a lyre even looks like.

“You’re familiar with Orpheus, right?” Wilbur asks.

“He went to the underworld to save his wife from death,” Dream says, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach when he thinks about the concept of revival after death, pushing images of a certain book out of his mind. “He wasn’t supposed to look back, but he did. At the last second he looked back, and he lost her forever.”

“That’s right.” Wilbur’s fingers wrap around Dream’s hand, brushing against his palm before moving up and interlocking with Dream’s own fingers. The path he takes burns into Dream’s skin, and Dream practices a steady rise and fall of his chest, mentally counting in intervals of five in an attempt to ignore the feeling.

Wilbur tugs lightly, prompting Dream to turn his head towards the other.

The brunet’s already staring at him when Dream meets his gaze. There’s an almost bitter glint in his eyes, but it bleeds into something more fond when looking at Dream. It’s an intentional choice on Wilbur’s part, Dream’s sure, but the action causes a warmth to settle in his chest nonetheless.

“Orpheus tried to change the ending,” Wilbur says. “It led to more pain, in the end; all it resulted in was the cruelty of hope being taken at the last moment.”

Wilbur pulls away in favor of laying on his side, and Dream mirrors his movement. Wilbur’s hand returns to Dream’s cheek. It lingers longer, this time, until the smell of smoke on Wilbur’s fingertips reaches Dream’s nose. There’s an odd expression on Wilbur’s face, one which Dream can’t name, but, then again, he’s always had difficulty reading the other.

“Maybe Orpheus should’ve just let Eurydice go,” Wilbur murmurs.

Dream’s brows furrow.

“Why do you say that?”

Wilbur avoids the question by leaning forward and capturing Dream’s lips in a soft kiss. It’s different than their kisses usually are; it’s slow and gentle, like Wilbur’s savoring the feeling and the taste of Dream’s lips. It causes yearning to ignite within him, shining as brilliantly as Polaris, and he wonders if he’ll be consumed by it.

It’s treacherous. Like Prometheus giving fire to humanity, it’s treacherous. Because he has things to do and a server to fix and mysteries to solve, and he can’t abandon it just because the man who started a war against him is suddenly making butterflies appear in his stomach.

It’s treacherous.

And yet–

“After tomorrow,” he says when he and Wilbur finally pull away from the kiss, though they remain so close that their breath mixes together. “After tomorrow, I can teach you how to navigate with the stars. We can go on a little adventure, just the two of us. Not forever. Just until the server calms down a bit. Like a vacation.”

A small smile graces Wilbur’s lips. “That sounds lovely,” he says, but the air of melancholy surrounding the words makes unease settle in Dream’s chest.

Wilbur closes his eyes and murmurs, “they say if you love someone you should let them go,” so quietly that Dream wonders if he was even supposed to hear the words. “Maybe Orpheus should have just allowed Eurydice to have a peaceful rest in the Underworld,” Wilbur continues, words just as hushed. “Maybe he should’ve just let her go.”

Dream’s heart stutters in his chest, cracking and splintering and threatening to let tendrils of sorrow sink in. He tries to distract himself. He tries to count the barely perceptible freckles on Wilbur’s cheeks, tries to focus on the feeling of Wilbur’s calloused fingers on his skin, but it’s all in vain when his mind keeps looping the melancholic words over and over again.

Wilbur opens his eyes, gifting Dream with a look so tender it makes his heart ache. “Then again,” he says, louder, “I can’t really blame him for wanting to hold onto Eurydice.”

“Are you saying I’m the Eurydice to your Orpheus?” Dream asks, teasing in an attempt to move away from the heavy atmosphere.

“Maybe you are,” Wilbur responds with a humorless chuckle. “Or perhaps you’re Orpheus, and I’m Eurydice. Maybe we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Dream swallows the lump in his throat.

“Maybe we can figure it out after tomorrow,” he suggests.

Wilbur hums non-committedly. “Maybe,” he says, and then he’s meeting Dream in another kiss that’s so gentle it makes Dream’s head spin. It’s a distraction and an avoidance, Dream knows, but he leans readily into it anyway, all too eager to escape the sinking feeling in his chest.

After tomorrow, he thinks to himself, it’ll all be okay after tomorrow. (But there will be no after tomorrow for Wilbur Soot, he’ll learn. The final note of the symphony will play and Wilbur Soot will be cut down by the hand of his own father before he ever reaches past November 16th. And Dream? The weight of a book will sit heavily in his mind, and he will understand why Orpheus refused to let Eurydice go).

read chapter two here

#sixteenthdayevent #dreblr #c!dreambur #madduo #c!dream #c!wilbur #dsmp fic #writing from the void

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crazydazeymuses-archive · 2 years

Note

((To The Mask)) "What's an easy way to get rid of enemies?"

“We-hell, there are MANY ways to achieve such a feat, my friend; Dynamite, dropping anvils and pianos, plungers at their pie holes, a big mallet, a giant tennis racket, spring catapult traps, sawing holes in the floor under ‘em, pulling a large drain plug, and my personal favorite…”

Zips away off the screen for a moment. You hear Kellaway yelling out loud, and elastic stretching. He returns, cackling in laughter and wiping a tear.

“WEDGIE! HAHAHAHAHAAA!

Ahh, that NEVER gets old!”

#silverbladethefighter #He is a menace smh #Pretty Viridian Face. (The Mask.)

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rywritten · 1 year

Note

Headcannon that Dream is the only one that can truly remove his mask, and that even though Quackity tried to pry it off he can't because its so heavily enchanted.

But that never stopped Q from smashing Dreams face in with the force of the mask unfortunately.

But when Techno rescued Dream, and let him stay, kept him safe and plotted their next move on Quackity.

But after months of being there, months of protecting each other and taking hits for one another, taking care of each other. Perhaps even growing feelings for each other.

Dream called Techno into the room adjacent to the living room, shutting the door. Locking it.

On this twilight, with the chilly ice creeping in the windows seeping into their bones.

Does Dream take off his mask, lets Techno see his viridian green eyes and freckled face that had a hint of stubble after being able to shave finally.

Techno was awestruck, heartfelt even. Because no matter how much Quackity smashed Dreams face, kicked him, hurt him. He never, ever saw his face.

Reaching out, Techno cradled Dreams face, thumb brushing over his cheek, marveling in the softness. Eyes tracing the constellations of freckles splattered over his cheeks and nose.

They stayed like that for awhile, just basking in each other. Taking it all in.

But in the silence of it all, all that could be uttered, with a southern tilt.

"You're Beautiful."

And with that they shared a long overdue kiss.

Dnb supremacy >:333 <333333

dream laughs. of course he laughs at hearing techno's quiet confession because he thinks techno had been joking (because have you seen him? have you seen his face? he's learnt to find scars and pretend that they’re a good replacement for skin.)

dream stops laughing when he realizes techno hadn't been laughing the entire time and was still looking at him like that.

it's a strange look; one that dream isn't familiar with. there's something burning in the red of techno's eyes, but it's different from the usual rush of adrenaline and victory. this look is more subdued.

this is probably the first time dream has ever seen such an expression on techno's face.

it worries him, so he does what he does best, he deflects the attention on him and pretends that removing his mask in front of techno wasn't that big of a deal at all.

he tries to crack a joke then. he taunts the other man, telling him that he's being awfully quiet, and adds a self deprecating "do i really look that bad?"

he expected techno to go along with his quips, to snort out loud and tell him 'yes, you look awful' but techno doesn't. instead, techno steps even closer and slowly places both of his hands on dream's face, cupping his cheeks so that the green of dream's eyes are looking right at the red of techno's.

"i wasn't lying," techno starts, his voice so unbelievably quiet that dream thinks he'd imagined it.

"i don't like liars, dream." techno adds when he sees the disbelief flash across dream's face, and he slowly tucks a stray blond hair at the back of dream's ear before saying, "i meant what i said earlier, you're beautiful."

surprisingly, techno's lips had tasted like salt, but dream could chalk that up to the uncontrollable hiccups that began to wrack his body once the first tear broke through.

he doesn't know who leaned in first, but kissing techno was an experience dream had never dared to think about, let alone do.

the kiss itself was chaste, a quick brush of lips that has dream's heartbeat thundering inside of his chest. he was feeling so much and so quickly, and his mind couldn't keep up. everything was overwhelming him to the point where he was unable to stop himself from crying, no matter how much he wanted to.

it was awful to cry in front of someone, it made him feel week — powerless in a way nothing else could ever make it, which is why dream had made it a point to never cry in front of anyone, not even sam or quackity.

and yet here he was, shaking as tears kept staining his cheeks like a child while techno has his arms wrapped around him protectively. he should feel mortified, embarrassed beyond belief, and yet the only thing dream did was cling onto techno even tighter.

the warmth emitting out of the other man was a comfort dream never knew he would be able receive or to feel in this lifetime, and despite his earlier horrors of breaking down in front of someone else, hearing techno's comforting words (despite the awkwardness of it, as if the other man was just as unsure about how to tread such a strange predicament between the two of them) have started to calm him down.

many have called dream different names in the past, and all of them were made to hurt and cut away at his being. so hearing techno's remark in all his honesty had surprised dream to the point of literal tears, something no one has ever done or attempted to do in a long time.

strange enough, techno has broken the record for many of dream's firsts today. and dream fears this won't be the end of it.

but here, in the safety of techno's arms, dream is content to let techno keep holding him; to lean on the solid warmth of techno's chest, and feel the resounding thump of his steadying heartbeat.

dream closes his eyes and lets himself be lulled by it, lets himself succumb to the feeling of being held for once in his life by someone who had sworn to stay by his side, someone who dream has finally learned to trust, and maybe even start to believe.

(oh wow, look at that, i wrote something for dnb again!! im sorry if there's any typos, im sick with a fever and can't be bothered to edit anything right now lmao anyway, i hope you like this silly little drabble anon, and im so sorry it took so long for me to reply!)

#dnb #dreamnoblade #technodream #c!dreamnoblade #ry.quests #anon #it's a high fever rn but ive taken my meds already so hopefully ill be good #gonna think about dnb while i succumb to some very strange fever dreams later

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underfaller · 9 months

Text

Pecking Order

Pairing: Dottore segments x segment CW: threesome, noncon, selfcest, powerplay Words: 1.6k A/N: Practice “Mhmph!”

Beta struggled wildly against his restraints, glaring furiously at his two captors. His arms and legs were bound together as his body laid on the uncomfortably cold examination table. His Akademiya beret laid against his head, having fallen off ages ago from Beta’s abrupt movements. Omega sauntered towards him, lifting his chin sharply with a gloved finger. Beta growled threateningly against the cloth that had been stuffed into his mouth. Psi leans against the wall in the corner. He raises an eyebrow.

“Look at him. He’s still fighting you.”

The older segment smirks.

“I will admit. I forgot how unruly I was in my Akademiya days,” Omega hummed.

He undoes Beta’s gag. Instantly, a barrage of insults and curses fell from the irate young man.

“Just what the hell do you think you two are doing?” Beta snapped.

“Save it. We just wanted to talk,” Psi said, glaring back at Beta.

“Yes, about how you planned to take our project,” Omega mused. “You couldn’t have possibly thought we’d let you go to Sumeru in our stead.”

“Your project? The False God Project? You aren’t entitled to anything you pretentious pricks,” Beta spat. “You always get the important assignments. It’s my time to shine!”

“Tch. Your turn? We built that project from the ground up. A worm like you isn’t going to come in and swoop up the credit,” Psi interjected, his glasses glinted dangerously in the fluorescent, white light. He swiftly approached the table. Beta braced himself. At first, the younger segment think’s Psi is going to attack him-- It won’t be the first time he’s been struck by the bespectacled man. However, Omega holds up a hand stopping Psi in his tracks.

“Come now, there’s better ways of handling this Psi,” Omega folded his arms, looking down at Beta. A dark grin curls on his masked face. “Though we should teach this one who’s really in charge here.”

Omega brushed a long finger down Beta’s spine, pressing lightly against his viridian green Akademiya uniform.

“What do you think, Beta? Don’t you think you deserve punishment for defying your superiors?”

His finger stopped at Beta’s ass as his hand groped it. Beta narrowed his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He hissed.

“Nothing. Just generating quite a curious hypothesis,” Omega drawled as he continued to fondle Beta’s ass. “If we fucked you thoroughly, then you’d learn to listen to us. After all, what better way of establishing this hierarchy than making you our bitch?”

Psi snickered. Beta gritted his teeth.

“You can’t be serious.”

“When am I not?” Omega responded, waving his hand dismissively. “You should be more open to experimentation, Beta. Aren’t you supposed to be a scholar?”

It’s then that Omega slapped Beta’s ass hard. The sound of his strike reverberated in the empty lab. Beta yelped like a punished puppy. He clenched his fists.

“Just wait until Prime hears about this!”

Omega scoffed.

“Tell him. He won’t care about some menial insect like you.”

Beta struggled even more wildly against the ropes that bind him. Omega rolled his eyes.

“So tenacious. Save your strength. You’re going to need it.”

Beta scowled. If looks could kill, Omega would probably have incinerated on the spot.

“Who knows, you might even learn that you enjoy this, Beta,” Psi laughed, folding his arms. He grinned mischievously at his colleague.

“Fuck you.”

Omega chuckled, darkly. He ruffled Beta’s short, messy blue hair.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

Omega put his gloved hand in front of the man’s face. He smirked.

“Now be a dear and take off my glove will you?” Omega said in a mocking voice. “Don’t even think about biting me. If you do, not even your parts will be useful as scrap metal.”

Beta growled once more but did as he’s told. There’s really no other choice. He was completely helpless, incapacitated and at the whims of his sadistic superiors. He felt the warm leather pressed against his teeth as Omega slid his hand into Beta’s mouth. Beta carefully bit the article of clothing, pulling it off with his teeth.

“Good boy,” Omega cooed. His teasing made Beta’s blood boil. “So you can follow orders.”

Omega’s hand returned back to rub the segment’s ass, snaking around his delicate waist and just grazing the soft bulge in the fabric of his dress pants. Beta’s breathing hitched.

“You’re so sensitive. I forget you’re probably still a virgin.”

He gets to work. Omega easily undoes Beta’s pants, slipping that and his boxers down as far as they could go while he was still bound like this. The sudden exposure to the lab’s cold air caused Beta’s already half hard member to twitch. Omega’s delicate, yet firm fingers wrapped around the young man’s cock. Beta shivered. He blushed, avoiding Omega’s grin as the older segment slowly started to rub him off.

Omega continues to stroke-- methodically and rhythmic. He’s certainly experienced. Whether from his own masturbation or with another segment, Beta wasn’t too sure. Beta bit his lip painfully, weakly struggling against his restraints as the pleasure that coursed up his spine. He held back a moan as Omega picked up the pace, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you enjoying this?”

Beta refused to answer.

Omega clicked his tongue in annoyance before he used his left hand to pull Beta’s head up roughly by his hair. Beta made a small noise of displeasure as Omega tugged at his locks, forcing him to look at his superior.

“I just asked you a question.”

“Nhgh… N-no…” “No? Your body is showing a much different answer.”

Omega released his fingers from Beta’s veiny cock before giving the pinkish red, stimulated tip a small flick. Taken by surprise, Beta can’t hold back a needy whine. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. He continued to play with Beta, his whines and moans becoming a bit more apparent as the segment got closer to climax. Omega felt his own dick rapidly hardening in his tight pants. Seeing the young segment in such a pathetic and humiliating state certainly aroused him. Omega smirked. He loved seeing the power he had over the others.

Whether through fear or love, he controlled them all.

It’s then that Beta came. He let out a strained moan as he did, his cock twitching before warm liquid spilt on Omega’s hand. Omega laughed softly.

“Spent already? I thought you were stronger than that.”

Beta continued to pant, craning his head to look indignantly at Omega. A red haze of humiliation brushed over his pretty face as he looked at Omega with half-lidded eyes filled with lust and rage.

“H-how dare you…” Beta muttered. He’s trying to sound threatening, but his soft voice only aroused and amused Omega more.

“Don’t think we’re done yet,” Omega chuckles.

Omega examined Beta’s sticky cum on his hands. He smiled evilly as an idea formed in his debauched mind. Omega placed his defiled fingers against Beta’s tight asshole, inserting them slowly in. It’s obviously uncomfortable for Beta as he instantly starts to protest. Omega ignored him. He gathered the rest of Beta’s cum, using it to lube up his own hole.

Omega undid his own belt, pulling out his hardened cock. He positioned it against Beta’s asshole. Without any warning, he presses himself in, forcing the young man to take him entirely.

Omega sighed with pleasure as his own precum mixed with Beta’s fluids creating a slippery entrance. Beta cried out in pain and surprise, his eyes widening as he writhed on the table. His walls squeezed Omega’s cock as the young man desperately tried to adjust to his size. Omega let out a deep grunt, thrusting in and out, savoring the segment’s pleas. He grabbed Beta’s shoulder, digging his nails painfully into his smooth skin as he picked up the pace. Beta continued to cry, tears pricking his eyes as he begged Omega to stop.

“Fuck! Please. It hurts so much. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Aw, it hurts?” Omega groaned. He leaned forward, whispering in Beta’s ear. “Good. It’s what you deserve.”

It’s then that Omega eyed Psi, clearly enjoying the show.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to join me?”

Psi laughed as he pushed up his glasses. He looked a bit disdainful, yet eagerly undid his belt as well.

“If you so insist. Though, I didn’t think you were one to share your toys, Omega.”

He approached Beta, caressing the segment’s teary face as he pressed his girthy cock against the man’s lips.

“Let’s put that pretty mouth of yours to use, hm?”

Beta scowled up at Psi, pressing his lips together.

Omega shook his head before slapping Beta’s ass once more. Beta yelled and as he opened his mouth, Psi shoved his dick into it. Beta gagged His mouth tried to reject the member but to no avail. Psi placed his hand at the back of the segment’s head, keeping him in place. He’s just as ruthless and lustful as Omega, soon grabbing a fistful of Beta’s hair and pulling his head closer so that his cock was practically down Beta’s throat.

Psi moans loudly.

“Fuck, you have such a whore mouth. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Beta murmured something inaudible and the two men laughed aloud. They continue to fuck Beta using him more as a toy than a person. They chased their own pleasure with no regard to the segment on the table. As Omega thrusted, Beta’s mouth was forced to take Psi’s length deeper in his mouth. Each time his ass was violated, his mouth choked on the cock that gagged him. However, as time went on, Beta’s pain slowly shifted to twisted pleasure and his cock hardened once more. Omega reached for it once again, stroking him as he fucked him. Beta moaned against Psi’s dick, the sound reverberating and sending pleasure through his superior. All three of their noises create a debauched choir in the once quiet lab.

Omega was the first to cum. His thrusts became erratic as he brutally pushed more and more into the segment’s asshole. Any more and he may have actually damaged Beta’s outer frame. Not that he cared. Omega groaned deeply as his cum sprayed in thick, white ropes creampieing the young segment. Psi finished soon after in Beta’s mouth. Beta dutifully swallowed it, looking up at his superior with glazed, dumb eyes. It’s obvious that the overstimulation he experienced has left his head completely empty. His mouth was slightly agape as he laid on the table, panting like a bitch in heat.

Omega pulls out of Beta. His cum leaked out of his asshole. Omega smiled at the sigh as he adjusted himself.

“Let this be a lesson. Know your place, segment.”

#dottore #dottore segments #il dottore #genshin inpact #genshin smut

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