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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs, ɪ…! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sᴜɴᴅᴀʏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, innocent!reader & manipulative!sunday, religious setting ( confessional ), mildly dark ( suggested mind control and dub con to cnc fantasies ), dub con, humiliation, masturbation ( him! ). all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act seven [ masturbation ]

this was the third time.

the third time you’d found yourself sitting here.

the third time within the Cathedral of Morning Dew, perched and squirming uncomfortably in the claustrophobic cubicle, fumbling with your own fingers against the lace details of your skirt as it splayed across your knees— one of them bouncing as a testament to your anxiety and causing your voice to shake.

the third time you were confessing to Sunday.

“I’m sorry,” you feel like you should apologize, so your voice shyly fills the cool air around you. “You must have so many other important matters to tend to—“

“Nonsense.” Sunday replies with an impossibly soft and alluring purr in his gentle baritone. he’s positioned close enough to the lattice partition that he can almost whisper it to you, like a secret for only you to hear. “Penacony’s sons and daughters and their concerns are of utmost importance to me.” though it was meant as reassurance, your cheeks are aflame with embarrassment. to be coddled by a man with as much power as Sunday did make you feel like a helpless child that cries to her father when she’s upset. “Go on, my dear. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

you glance around the cubicle, eyes landing on the candle that endlessly burns beside you, yet no hot wax trickles down on to the pristine floor, nor does heat emit from the flame. even if you blew on it, you doubted that it would go out. as was the whimsicality of the Dreamscape. “It’s these… fantasies again,” you start, timidly bringing up a topic that had been the prompt for you to seek Sunday out every time. gnawing desires for things you knew you couldn’t have— desires for him. “It’s getting harder for me to tell them apart from, well, what’s really happening. The one’s I’ve had recently seem so… immersive.”

Sunday is a quiet for a moment before calmly asking, “Your condition is getting more severe? These fantasies are worrying you?”

“Well, yes.” you answer, choosing your words carefully. “They’re… very…” for all the words there were that could describe what these daydreams about Sunday were ( vulgar, lustful, depraved ), you could force none to breach your lips.

“Naughty?” Sunday offers, and you can almost hear the fond, ghost of a smile that tickles the corners of his lips. it only makes your blush hotter and more furious.

you bite down in your lower lip, rolling it between your teeth as your eyes look towards the latticework. you can only see the outline of his halo, and the glinting of the candlelight as it reflects off the piercings in his wings. squinting slightly, you attempt to make out more details. the softness of his silvery hair, always just so with not a single tendril out of place. the flawlessness of his supple, milky skin, until he turns his head, just a bit, and a glimmering, golden gaze nearly captures yours. with a soft squeak, realizing you’d been staring— wanting, you quickly avert your gaze. “Mhm…!”

you can feel his eyes on you for several more moments, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, deciding instead to stare at your bouncing knee.

“And what happens in these naughty, little daydreams of yours?”

a lump forms in your throat, and your mouth goes dry at the prospect of describing to Sunday the way you yearn for him. so, instead of answering right away, you shrink away from the lattice until you no longer feel him gazing at you. the cathedral is eerily silent, and you can hear the flapping of Charmony Dove wings outside. “My dear,” Sunday begins in a calm, patient tone, “you know that you must confess them to me, no matter how deplorable. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Now, don’t be shy. You’re safe here with me. You know this, yes?”

you had always felt safe in the warmth of his presence, so you nod again, though you didn’t think he was looking at you anymore. still, you were naive for thinking so. a perfectly gullible, little prey.

Sunday could hear the trepidation in your voice as you began, and he was smiling to himself, imagining the flustered look on your dreamy countenance as you recall how you fantasize about him. with slow, graceful movements, he pinches the very tips of the fingers of one glove, pulling it from his hand. his fingers wiggle once they’re freed from their cloth confinement, which he drapes neatly over his knee.

“In these… dreams, I come to you late at night, when no one else is around…”

“Do you?” he asks, amused, his bare fingers drumming lightly on his thigh silently. “All alone in secret? For what purpose?” he knows why. after all, he’s the culprit behind these eerily realistic fantasies. however, he wants to hear you say it.

“To— um,” you pause, your sheepishness getting the better of you. “Offer myself to you.”

Sunday exhales through his nose to keep a low sound of satisfaction from filling the air, and alerting you to his arousal. hearing how humiliated you are, it tightens the muscles in his lower abdomen, and a tent begins to form in his trousers, which he promptly rubs against his palm. “Oh…?” he asks, almost in a teasing, condescending lilt, murmuring, “In these fantasies of yours, do I accept the offer? Do I take you for myself? Steal your innocence like a wicked thief in the night?” even though his voice remained even, his heart was thumping. his cock jabbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his clothes, and he was busying himself with the task of freeing it.

“Mhm…. Many times,” you answer, and the way your voice breaks, Sunday can practically see your lower lip quivering. it only makes him harder to think about that, and your sparkling eyes welling up with tears. once his cock springs free, standing at attention, he wraps his bare hand around it in a loose fist, and purses his lips together to suppress a grunt. veins throb beneath his skin, the tip twitching as beads of translucent nectar bubbles up from the eager slit. “In many different ways. Sometimes, you— you’re rough with me.”

the tremors that shake your voice when you say this do not go unnoticed by Sunday, who closes his eyes, bringing the fantasy he’d handpicked to implant deep within your mind to the surface of his own. it was one of his favorites, and he was quite pleased that it affected you the most. though his memory wasn’t tampered with, as yours was, and so he couldn’t conjure all the sensations or watch the fantasy like a movie in his mind, he could imagine the sight of you beneath his wandering hands. how they tore at your delicate, little dress. ripping the neckline open to expose your pert breasts for him to grope and squeeze. the way he would imagine you to whimper and wince, perhaps even squirm, and he would have to spare a hand to wrap it around your throat and hold you down— pin you in place so you couldn’t escape him. he would whisper to you that as long as you’re a sweet, obedient darling, he would be gentle. but this was, of course, a lie. the way you would peer up at his figure as he forces his way between your trembling thighs, and the way you would cry out once he finally got his cock inside you, it would be your way of begging him to break you. your mouth could lie, and whine that he was hurting you, or that you want him to be careful with you, but deep down, you wanted him to dominate you. to decimate and own you. he knew this to be fact because he had designed this little dream to convince you of it.

all whilst his imagination ran wild, his thumb runs deftly along his leaking slit, applying enough pressure to milk the swollen, red tip until his precum begins to dribble down the length of his cock, slickening the skin. his palm glides down his needy length, fingers clamping down, until the side of his fist rests against the base, before he slowly drags it back upwards towards the tip, setting a torturously slow tempo for himself. “And in this daydream of yours,” he purrs, only parting his lips wide enough to allow the words to slip through, lest a sound of ecstasy also escape, “You love it when I’m rough with you.” it wasn’t a question. it was a matter of fact. “I can hear it in the way your voice quivers, my dear, you’re ashamed of yourself. Humiliated because, albeit untouched, your little cunt gets so wet when you think about me abusing it.”

“S—Sunday…”

“Mm?” he taunts in a soft voice, as if daring you to challenge the truth. “It’s true, isn’t it? Deplorable, vulgar, and embarrassing to admit, but impossible to deny that you’ve soiled your panties many a time when you imagine how a man like me could use your body all up, and leave you in a state of ruin.”

“Y—yes…” it’s exactly what he’d expected to hear, and yet his core throbs the second he does. he leans back, just enough to brace his back against the wall of his cubicle, and adjust his feet. spreading them further apart. “I—I can't help it…”

“Poor, little thing.” Sunday croons, his slender eyebrows furrowing as he pumps himself harder and faster. “So helpless.” his fist alternates by squeezing and releasing, in the same rhythm that he imagines your virgin pussy would spasm if he was inside, and the sensations were already driving him to the brink. Sunday tilts his head back against the wall, hissing out a soft groan under his breath. part of him even wants you to hear that little sound of pleasure, to realize what he’s doing— getting off on your distress. on your desperate, wanton lust for him. however, if you do hear it, you’re too shy to draw attention to it. too bad, he thinks, if she had only caught me, i would have the innocent, little thing gagging on my cock right here in this booth…

“Wh—what should I do?” your shy question snaps him back to the moment at hand. “About these fantasies. I feel— I feel like they’re only getting more depraved and… scary…”

Sunday has to seal his tiers tightly together, lest a breathy chuckle bubble up from his throat at just how frightened by your own desires ( or, at least, the ones he’s convinced you are yours ) you are. it was cute to him. adorable how eager you are to make these naughty visages go away before they spiral out of control, when that is exactly what he was waiting for. “You needn’t worry, you know this.” he manages to force the words out, even as he stroked himself, coming undone in his own palm to the thought of deceiving you. plucking away the petals of your fragile, little mind until you were compliant and easy enough to do the same deflowering to your body. “I will always be here for you, I will always take care of you.” as he says this, he milks his cock, slowly dragging a tight fist up from the base, coaxing a slowly oozing release from the engorged head. a couple of rogue streamers splatter silently against the floor between his feet, but he pays the mess no mind. instead, he retrieves a handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wipes the mess on his lap— cum glazing his bare hand and the length of his shaft, down to where it began to frost his now empty balls, just before reaching the fabric of his trousers. it was unsurprisingly that he looked pristine once he was cleaned and tucked back into his pants. the soiled handkerchief is forgotten on the bench, in exchange for his glove still resting across his knee. he slips it back on before he stands, taking only a moment to smooth his vest and jacket before escaping the now stuffy air of the booth. with a soft knock on the door to your side, he waits for you to come out, too. a gentle smile on his face, and the dusky blush fading into his normal complexion by the time you emerge.

when you open the door, it creaks a bit, and you glance down at the hinges, before looking up to find Sunday incredibly close. the subtle musk from his refined cologne tickling your nostrils, but that wasn’t all. there was another smell that was quite unfamiliar, and yet seemed to spark a low bubble in your belly, but you couldn’t place it. you shrink away from him with a sheepish smile, your back pressing against the door of the booth when he takes a step closer, effectively blocking you from leaving. “Your condition is my concern,” he assures you with a gentle smile, before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little vial of pinkish, glowing liquid. it was familiar to you— the same elixir he’d given you the last two times you’d come to him. to help with the symptoms, he says.

“Th—thank you, Sunday—“ you whisper, reaching a trembling hand for the vial in his, but what he does next surprises you. grasping your wrist with the other, he presses the vial against your palm and covers your fingers with his, wrapping them tightly, and he leans in with a softer whisper.

“Remember to place a single drop on your tongue. Every. Single. Night.” when you nod, flustered by so much physical contact, he smiles fondly, and releases your hand. “Very good girl.” he appraises, before his right hand falls to rest behind his back, yet his left lingers, creeping up to trace the shape of your mouth. piercing, golden eyes for us on your lips, his own curled into a gentle smile.

“P—please don’t tell anyone… about my condition.” you whisper, your eyes big and hopeful. you didn’t believe he would, but it was something you always needed to plead for before you left.

Sunday chuckles softly at this, and presses a gloved thumb to the seam of your lips, applying pressure until your lips open and it nearly slips inside. “You and I have many secrets together,” he murmurs in reply, before his gaze flits back up to your eyes, locking them into an intense contact that has you shifting back and forth on your feet. “But that is why we must trust one another. Unconditionally. Do you trust me, my dear? Unconditionally?”

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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Here I am, once again… with Honkai Star Rail WHORES

Ko-fi | Twitter | NSFW Twitter | other links (a little outdated)

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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lounging in bed with foxian jing yuan as he lays on your chest and when you scratch his ears and head he starts purring loudly

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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Maybe Dan Heng should put that protectiveness over the Trailblazer to use and actually come with us from now on!! I do not wish for him to stay behind anymore please!

I have missed him being a consisten presence in the game.

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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quick 30 min doodle of jingyuan :D

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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♬ now playing: "falling for you"

-> don't you see me? i think i'm falling for you (fallingforyou - the 1975)

summary. various hsr men realizing they're in love with you

chars. dan heng , sunday , aventurine , jing yuan

notes. THIS ONE IS FOR U MIZU-ANON (still gonna call u that despite the username change) had sm fun writing this. i am a biiiiig loser for these types of tropes i need to admit it. I HOPE WHEN U READ THIS U ENJOY MIZU-ANON!!!!!! LOVE U <3

contains. fluff, pre-established relationship, spoiler-free, reader is a trailblazer but not the trailblazer, march & trailblazer mentioned (dan heng), 'pretty' used as a compliment for reader (jing yuan)

inspired by -> this post!

track one: dan heng

staying up late talking to you. dan heng tends to pull all-nighters, but he never expected you to join in one time. it was actually a bonding moment—he felt as if you grew closer since that day. it wasn't exactly a deep talk, it was more like an icebreaker. compared to march and the trailblazer, dan heng was much more reserved, so you saw a different side to him that night. one that you ended up seeing more and growing quite fond of.

always turning their head if your name is mentioned. every morning when the express crew gets up and eat breakfast together, dan heng finds himself always looking over whenever someone calls you. "[name], let's share!" march 7th would exclaim, then the black-haired man's attention immediately turned to your direction.

... and when you notice that a certain someone is staring at you, you make eye contact and smile, which seemed to have flustered him a little. ah, he's growing smitten, slowly.

track two: sunday

realizing certain traits about you that he finds endearing, your curiosity being the most prominent one. with sunday being a halovian, you couldn't help but admire his features, namely his wings. yet you were far too shy to ask if you could touch them—after all, what if he were to feel uncomfortable? but, to your surprise, sunday was the one that offered, finally acknowledging your silent wish. his wings were undeniably soft, but also quite sensitive, fluttering away from your touch. at first, you thought you did something wrong, but judging from the light blush on the oak family head's face, you could tell he actually enjoyed it.

realizing he's in a better mood when you're in a good mood. being head of the oak family, sunday has a tough job. and yet, when he sees you smiling to yourself, sometimes even attempting to help him in any way you can, sunday finds an odd warmth in his chest. one he doesn't experience quite often.

track three: aventurine

the first smile you share. sometimes you wonder whether or not aventurine is serious in certain situations. sometimes you wonder if he's even your friend or if he's using you in a gamble you aren't even aware of. but that one fateful day when he met your gaze and smiled, you could feel your heart skip a beat. aventurine constantly wears a confident smirk, one that makes him seem like someone to be weary of. and that smile of his... perhaps you were the lucky one this time.

flirting with you. actually, your friendship as a whole had some... weirdly romantic undertones, but after a while, the both of you sort of started to truly think about the entire thing. was he serious when he said that you were the only person he wanted? were you serious when you said you wouldn't mind it if he kissed you? only one way to find out, no?

track four: jing yuan

getting things that remind him of you. whether it'd be a shiny trinket he figured you'd like, or even an expensive piece of jewelry, jing yuan slowly started gifting you different things quite frequently. and whenever you'd ask, his response would always be, "it looks pretty, just like you."

finding time for you and spending his free time around you. it's no secret that jing yuan is a busy man, being the general of the luofu. and yet, after those hours are finished, or he managed to catch a break in the middle of the day, he always looks for you somewhere in exalting sanctum and ask if you'd like to take a short stroll with him. you answer yes every time.

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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“what are you doing?”

you comically cower behind his back even further.

“hiding.”

“...why?”

“because there's a flipping lion in the room with us, JING YUAN. that's what.” you snap back angrily.

if you're wondering how you got into this predicament—it's not that far from being akin to a kidnapper leading on a child with sweets and delicacies.

under the guise of work and a few promised cuddles, he had made you follow his steps into his home—now with you glued to his body like it's your own lifeline. the snow-white lion snugly lies down by the only exit of the room you're both occupying—having just introduced herself when it came to jing yuan for a few pets, scaring the bejeebers out of you when its fur had grazed the back of your thighs all of a sudden.

the lion only shows confusion yet complies when jing yuan coaxed her to go away for a few moments. in other words—for you to take a breather.

in response to your much evident suffering and growing impatience, a mirthful laugh escapes him, craning his head to look at you over his shoulder to throw you a small mischievous grin “it's just my cat. i don't see the problem.”

“that's fully grown lion, you scoundrel!” you hit his back weakly, whisper-yelling as if said lion would attack you if you spoke any louder. “a-ah...it's looking at me weirdly. it's definitely thinking of how delicious i am!”

“mimi is very gentle. i doubt she's thinking of such a thing.”

you sink further in his shadow when the lion catches your wary gaze with a tilt of its head. “jing, please. it may like you, but i doubt that a territorial species would enjoy having a stranger around its person bubble.”

“you're free to leave anytime, darling. i'm not forcing you to stay.” he says coyly.

“with how your adorable little mimi is standing right by the door—i doubt i can leave of my own accord.”

“so you think she's adorable? good to hear that.” oh, now he has selective hearing?

“jing yuan. please.” you kneel down and tug on his robes pleadingly, catching him off guard to the point he has now decided to fully turn towards you in mild surprise. “i really don't know how to deal with this! i don't dislike her or anything, i'm just super scared that she won't like me and would—”

“calm down.” your lover couches down before you, hand raising to pat your head. “she doesn't bite. i promise.”

“how are you so sure?” you question incredulously, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens at his actions. “even if she's domesticated, she's still an animal that thrives on her own survival instincts.”

“dearest, would i really have taken in a pet if it was openly feral?”

“yep. you would.” you reply in a heartbeat.

his eye twitches in return.“ahem—okay, so as i was saying,” standing up to his full height, he stretches out a hand towards you, staring at you softly as he does so. “we both know i adore delicate and gentle things, [name]. mimi is exactly that—hence why i didn't mind taking her in and burdened you with meeting her.”

you raise a brow. he shrugs, opting to resign upon your obvious reluctance on the matter.

“truthfully, i wished to see my two favourite companions to bond and get along with my own two eyes,” he heaves an apologetic huff, a tad bit disappointed whilst you only stare in surprise, “but if you're really uncomfortable with it then i suppose i shouldn't force you.”

he helps you up with ease when you finally put your hand on his, hastily padding off the dust that was caught in your clothes upon kneeling down.

grasping your hand comfortingly to calm your nerves, you hate that it work flawlessly upon his touch.

“let's go?”

you were about to nod—until your gaze catches the lion's once more.

...pretty eyes.

snowmoon.

your heart clenches at the realisation.

“on second thought...” you trail off, watching as the mammal sits up in anticipation at your eye contact. jing yuan raises a brow at you, “i think i'll try interacting with her.”

he huffs out a deep chuckle, “really, you don't have to—”

“mimi?” you call out, leaning sideways to look past behind your lover's tall figure. he does the same, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the same direction you're fixated on.

the lion perks up, and starts walking towards you. you grin, but not before whispering back to jing yuan,

“if she actually bites me, we're breaking up.”

“no promises.”

you finally pat the lion's head after about an hour of excessive whining it'll bite you, finally havin found the courage to actually see it as a mere domesticated cat whilst glaring daggers at the owner.

“mimi...attack that bad guy.” you point at him, face still looking smug as ever.

“she won't listen to y—” said lion pounces on him.

idek what this is fiakehwjbsksbw i cant write no more man,,,,*/proceeds to make another jingyuan drabble in google doc

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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#ID LIKE TO PRESS CHARGES 😭😭💔💔💔#I AM HURT

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

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Love Delivery!

Synopsis: Balancing part-time food delivery with a busy school schedule is no easy task. One day, while on a delivery, you find yourself awkwardly waiting at the door of a luxurious apartment. Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing a handsome, albeit annoyingly rich, man. Genre: Romance, fluff, slow-burn?? (modern au!) Character: Aventurine x fem!reader Warnings: Hot sassy men apocalypse, maybe this will have a part 2 or smth idk

[masterlist] [about me]

Ding!

Someone has placed an order near your set area.

You glance at the notification on your screen, just as you’re snapping a picture of the food you’ve delivered to the nice granny’s house. The elderly lady smiles politely, waiting patiently as you finish taking the photo.

“Ah, another order, young lady?” she croaks out, offering a small, grateful bow when you hand her the plastic bag of food. “Thank you so much, hoho. I’m sorry to trouble you young folks, but it’s hard for my old bones to get around, you know?” She chuckles, giving your shoulder a gentle pat.

You smile at her and shake your head, waving off her concern. "It's no problem, granny. It's my job, after all." After bidding farewell to the old lady, you put on your helmet, hop back on your bike, and accept the new order request.

Penacony's Clock Diner? Wait-

You quickly check the location set for your food delivery, confused by the address. You're all the way in Aurem Alley, and the customer wants food from Penacony? Ridiculous.

Location Set: Xianzhou Luofu.

How is this guy even able to send his request to you?

You double-check the address, noticing the system listing it as Fyxestroll Garden. What the hell? There aren’t any apartment complexes at Fyxestroll Garden!

Puzzled, you pull over to the side of the road and open the map on your phone, trying to make sense of it. Fyxestroll Garden is a well-known public park, famous for its serene walking paths and meticulously kept gardens. You can’t recall any buildings, let alone residential ones, in the area. You tap on the address again, hoping it’s a mistake or a glitch, but the coordinates remain unchanged.

Maybe it’s a new complex that just opened? you wonder. Or could it be some sort of exclusive residence hidden within the park?

Not long after, another text message pops up on your screen, and it's from the guy.

Frustration boils within you as you read the message, your temper nearing its breaking point. The blazing sun beats down mercilessly, intensifying your irritation as you stand near the dock, contemplating a plunge into the cooling waters below. How could this customer be so careless as to mess up their address, leaving you to contend with this sweltering heat and an hour-long detour?

And curse this app for its lack of a proper cancellation feature!

With a frustrated groan, you glance at the text, feeling the resistance of your bike's wheels grow heavier as you open the GPS. You're tempted to unleash a torrent of curses at the customer for exploiting some loophole in the app, forcing you to exert yourself just to deliver his order. He better be prepared to tip generously for this inconvenience.

To reach Penacony, your best bet is to take the Astral Express train— a mode of transportation you've used before but disliked immensely. The erratic jumps and occasional turbulence make for a nerve-wracking journey. And that conductor… Was it just fatigue playing tricks on your mind, or did they really have bunny ears…?

You sigh heavily as you enter the station, swiping your pass before parking your bike and leaning against it. Your gaze drifts to the TV hanging on the wall, checking the schedule to see when the train will arrive. Fifteen minutes? Well, there's no escaping it now…

You feel like hurling yourself into outer space.

Not only did the restaurant forget to prepare the order, but you're also stuck in a conversation with one of the servers who insists on cracking the most cringeworthy jokes.

"There's no such thing as a bad joke, only lousy comedians who can't deliver them!" the server— Jay, apparently. boasts. Doesn't this guy have other customers to attend to? Good grief. You're tempted to point out that he's no better than those lousy comedians, but you're not that mean— and you definitely don't want to risk losing your job.

"Order number 38! One sarmale and one classic soulglad!" a worker calls out, providing a convenient distraction as you hastily grabbed the food and rush over to your bike— just in time for your phone to start chiming with multiple notifications.

Fuming with frustration, you run a hand through your hair, pedaling away as fast as your legs can carry you to the designated location. One hand grips the handlebars tightly while the other clutches your phone, fingers jabbing at the screen as you send panicked voicemails to the careless customer.

"I'm on my way! I'll be there soon!" you breathe out, your voice strained with urgency, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. You're so preoccupied that you didn't even bother with your helmet, leaving it hanging on the basket of your bike as you speed along. The wind rushes past you, whipping your hair back as you scream into your phone.

"I'm practically flying to your place. Just hold on!" you seethe, narrowly avoiding collisions with other vehicles. You swear you catch a glimpse of a pair of blue-haired siblings shooting you a skeptical glance as you whiz by. No one's going to meet their demise on my watch.

(Maybe a few might with the way you're on the verge of causing car crashes.)

With determination fueling every pedal, you push yourself to the limit, determined to reach the customer's location before they decide to relocate to another universe altogether.

Upon stepping into the lounge of the apartment complex, you stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

The sight before you is nothing short of opulent. Everyone here is dressed to the nines in fancy attire, oozing sophistication and wealth. I mean, what did you expect? That the guy who ordered the food would settle for anything less than extravagance? 1800 credits for a soda?

But even knowing that, you weren't prepared for the sheer luxury of it all. Marble floors greet you the moment you enter, with plush velvet red sofas arranged in elegant clusters at every corner. The vases of plants adorning the marble countertops probably cost more than your entire monthly rent.

The sprawling expanse of rooms lining the halls seems to stretch on endlessly, giving you the impression that you've stumbled into a palace rather than an apartment complex. You can't help but feel like a humble peasant as you approach the lobby manager, your attire— a mishmash of sweaty clothes and a random jacket—paling in comparison to the impeccably tailored suits of the residents. Are you checking into an apartment or a castle?

What catches you off guard is the realization that most of the people milling about in this opulent setting are students. Students! You recognize familiar faces in the crowd— classmates from the same campus you attend.

"Hello, I'm here to deliver an order for room number ███," you murmur to the manager, noting the slight stress in her demeanor as she punches in the room number to confirm the request. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when she directs you to the Platinum room.

The Platinum room? Your mind races with questions as you make your way through the halls, the extravagant surroundings only adding to your bewilderment. What kind of student lives in the Platinum room of an apartment complex like this?

Here you stand, face to face with the imposing wooden door adorned with intricate golden trimmings, feeling as though your bank account is slowly draining with each passing moment. You raise a hand to knock, furrowing your brows in confusion when there's no immediate answer.

"Hey, it's me. I'm here to deliver your food," you call out, giving the door another firm knock. Still, there's no response. Seriously?

Technically, you could just leave the food at his door and be done with it. But something about the luxuriousness of this apartment complex makes you hesitate. It wouldn't reflect well on you to simply abandon the delivery outside, especially in such an upscale setting. (You internally roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all.)

As the door finally creaks open, you're poised to unleash the most scathing side-eye you can muster— ready to give this guy a piece of your mind for keeping you waiting (and running). But as your gaze meets his, you freeze.

You'd seen his profile picture on the app before, but you'd doubted that a man so devastatingly handsome could possibly exist in real life. You'd convinced yourself that it was probably some sort of prank or scam, someone using a fake photo to lure in unsuspecting victims.

But now, standing before you, is a man who defies all logic. His golden, tousled locks frame a face so strikingly beautiful it steals your breath away. His eyes— oh, those eyes— they're like pools of sapphire surrounded by a halo of lavender. You feel your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment as you struggle to find your voice, your words caught in your throat like a lump of lead.

He gazes back at you, those mesmerizing eyes flickering with mild curiosity as he tilts his head inquisitively. "Hm? Ah, it's you," he says, breaking the spell of silence that had enveloped you. But you can hardly hear him over the thunderous pounding of your heart, which seems to be screaming one thing over and over again: He's even more breathtaking in person.

You mentally slap yourself, shaking off the remnants of your daze as you stumble over your words, handing him his bag of food with trembling hands. "R-right, sorry to keep you waiting. Here's your food, sir," you manage to stutter out, inwardly cursing yourself for apologizing. Why am I apologizing? He's the one who's in the wrong here!

He lets out a soft chuckle, and you swear the sun must be finding its way to shine through the walls of the complex as your ears burn at the mere sound of his laugh. It's so calming, so captivating, that you feel like you're floating in a dream.

"No, no. Don't apologize. It's my fault for entering the wrong address," he reassures you, his voice smooth as silk. His fingers brush over yours as he reaches for his food, sending an electric shock through your entire body at the brief contact. You can't help but notice how his gaze softens as he opens the plastic bag to check the contents, a small hum of satisfaction escaping his lips at the sight of the still-warm food. You decide not to question it— perhaps he's just feeling a bit homesick.

You continue to awkwardly stand there, your hands fidgeting nervously in your pockets as you struggle to find something to say. "So, uh, your total is 6500 credits, sir," you finally manage to blurt out, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

He blinks in mild surprise, a small "ah" escaping his lips before he nods, disappearing momentarily back into his apartment. He returns a moment later, wallet in hand, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Since I've troubled you so much, how much do you want me to pay you back with, hm?" he teases, his tone playful.

You stare at him, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. Well, he did put you through quite a bit of trouble, making you trek all over town just to deliver two measly items. But still, the thought of asking for more money makes you feel incredibly awkward and embarrassed. "No, that…that won't be necessary," you choke out, feeling your palms grow sweaty with nervousness. "There's no need—"

"I insist," he interrupts, his tone firm yet strangely charming.

Well, damn. You're caught between feeling grateful for his generosity and feeling utterly mortified at the prospect of asking for more payment. But with his insistence ringing in your ears, you find yourself reluctantly nodding in agreement, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"1000 credits is fine," you mumble, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of asking for more money.

"Just 1000?" he repeats, narrowing his eyes at you with a slight frown. "That's quite low, considering the trouble I've put you through," he adds, his fingers skimming through his wallet in search of more credits.

As he rummages through his wallet, you can't help but notice his student card peeking out from among the bills. Your lips part in shock as you realize he's a student at the IPC—yeah, he's definitely rich. You should have haggled for more money.

"Are— do you major in accounting…?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself, your eyes darting to his card. He hums in response, shaking his head. "Nah, fashion. I can't count."

The two of you maintain eye contact for a few moments, and you find yourself staring at him dumbly while he gives you a cat-like grin.

"Did you actually buy that? I'm joking. I major in both finance and accounting."

You can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at his flippant attitude. This man radiates fuck-boy energy, and you're starting to have second thoughts. Does he get a pass because of his looks, or is it because of his looks that he gets a pass?

"Oh," is all you can manage to answer as he hands you a random stack of credits.

You stare dumbfounded at his outstretched hand, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as you glance back and forth between the stash of credits and his gaze. "Huh? How much is this?" you inquire, still hesitant to accept the payment.

"Does it really matter?" he scoffs, nudging you playfully. "1000 credits is way too little, and I don't like scamming people. I don't stoop that low," he chuckles, his tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. When you don't budge, he feels a twitch in his eye before suddenly grabbing your jacket and tugging at your pockets, causing you to let out a startled yelp. "Hey! What the hell—"

Ignoring your protest, he shoves the credits inside your pocket with lazy nonchalance, letting out a whistle of satisfaction before releasing his hold. "There. Now just think of it as you were robbed in reverse," he quips, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"That's not helping!"

"It's not like your boss or whoever's in charge of the app will check your pockets, right? I'm just giving you tips, there's nothing wrong with that," he shrugs, struggling to hold back a snort at how visibly annoyed you look. If this were any other person, like an 'actual' adult or man, he'd brush it off and just toss a random wad of tips your way before politely closing the door. Maybe he'd pause for a pretty lady— well, you are a pretty lady.

But he can tell you're a student, just like him, probably working your ass off just to make ends meet. Hey, he doesn't judge. Plus, it's kind of fun to tease people occasionally, and you remind him of another acquaintance of his who's majoring in medicine.

"So, anything else?" he murmurs, leaning casually against the doorframe, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You can't help but feel a mix of irritation and amusement at his nonchalant attitude. "No, that's it," you reply tersely, your voice tinged with annoyance. You can't wait to get out of here and put this bizarre encounter behind you.

He nods in acknowledgment, his smirk widening ever so slightly. "Alright then. Take care, pretty," he says, offering you a lazy wave before shutting the door gently behind him.

As you make your way back to your bike, you can't help but replay the encounter in your mind, wondering just what the hell just happened. This guy is definitely one of a kind, that's for sure.

As you swiftly exit the complex and pedal back to the train station, a dull headache begins to gnaw at your temples. You have other pending orders waiting for you back in Luofu, and the thought of having to navigate through the city once more only adds to your growing exhaustion. Yet, amidst the fatigue, a small swell of warmth tugs at your heart at the thought of not getting his number.

Sure, he provided his contact information when he placed the order, but with a guy like him, you're almost certain it's just his business line or something equally impersonal. Besides, it would feel a bit creepy to text him out of the blue. What would you even say?

'Hey, I thought you were cute after making me run laps around the city and deal with an annoying server, hmu?'

No way, that's beyond pathetic. Plus, you'd risk losing face.

Lost in your thoughts, you arrive back at the train station, your hands absentmindedly reaching up to touch your flushed cheeks, still tingling from the encounter. He's undeniably attractive, and you can't shake the nagging feeling that he probably already has a girlfriend— or several. Besides, you should be focusing on your studies, not getting involved with some rich fuck boy.

Ding!

Huh?

You're snapped out of your reverie by the sound of a notification chiming on your phone. With a curious frown, you unlock your device to see what it is.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you read the notification, your eyes widening in disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? 10,000 credits? Is he insane?

With trembling hands, you quickly fish out the money he gave you from your pockets, counting through the stack under your breath to keep your panic in check. "6, 7, 8… 9…" you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you realize he gave you thrice the amount needed.

Your fingers tap frantically on your phone screen as you type out a response, your words rushed and panicked. "Dude, you gave me thrice the amount needed already—stop."

As you stare at the screen, your mind reels with disbelief. He just willingly gave you his phone number— and he thinks you're cute?

It's a little funny, in a surreal sort of way, that the entire conversation is still ongoing within the food service app. Here you are, exchanging private messages with each other despite the platform's intended purpose.

You gulp, feeling the heat rise to the tips of your ears. Your brows knit together in a mixture of disbelief and slight annoyance, the memory of the earlier encounter still fresh in your mind. After all, he did put you through quite a bit of trouble with that address mix-up.

Should you add him?

"…"

You're caught off guard as a strong gust of wind rushes past you, fluttering your hair in its wake as the Astral Express train arrives. The station immediately becomes crowded, and you struggle to maneuver your bike into the passenger compartment as people squeeze past you. Finally, you manage to park your bike and squeeze yourself into an empty corner to avoid blocking anyone.

As everyone settles into their seats and grips the handles, the doors of the train shut, and the conductor announces the next stop. You let out a sigh, knowing it'll be another 20 or so stops before you reach Luofu…

Glancing back at your phone, your fingers tap onto it mindlessly, the cabin now quiet save for the occasional cries of children or chatter between friends.

Your gaze softens as a new notification pops up.

Aventurine (loser of a customer) is now saved into your contacts.

Ding!

"Good evening to you again, pretty delivery lady."

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hole4hoyohusbands · 3 months ago

Text

The Kiss Economy!

Synopsis: What's a more charming way to trade things than using kisses as currency? Genre: Fluff Character: Veritas Ratio x Gn!reader Warnings: Smooches, established relationship, both you and Ratio are teachers! Maybe a little ooc [masterlist] [about me]

Ratio sighed, running a hand through his hair as he paced the halls of the space station. Sometimes, he simply couldn't stand the reckless fools who were his students. It hadn't even been half a day, yet there was already so much to do— or more precisely, so much to clean up.

His classes ranged from young, aspiring teens to adults, who, in his mind, should be capable enough to handle equipment properly and behave responsibly in his absence.

But no.

The moment he stepped into the laboratory, his eyes fell upon a scene of chaos. Panicked students darted about, glass shards littered the floor, and expensive apparatus lay broken in the sink. Imbeciles, he thought with a mix of frustration and disappointment. Why did they always have to prove him wrong about their competence?

Now, he found himself troubled with seeking out you— another teacher who happened to be his dear beloved. He wasn't one to shy away from ranting about the incompetence of his students in private, often grumbling about how he wished his students were more like yours. After all, you never seemed to complain much about your own classes.

His perspective shifted, however, when he knocked on the door of your class and swung it open, only to be greeted by an expression of dread on your face—an expression he found somewhat amusing.

"Hm? You look distressed. Care to explain?" he pointed out, observing as you hunched over the lab sink, your expression deadpan as you glanced back at him.

"Veritas," you whined, facepalming yourself with a groan. "One of my students accidentally disposed of the platinum black powder while clearing out the empty containers." You could feel his stare, his raised eyebrow silently questioning how your students could mess up this badly.

"I think Herta is going to kill me when I report this to her," you added with a fake sob, walking over to him and tugging on his shirt for comfort. He let out a huff, shaking his head and ruffling your hair in a gesture of reassurance. "Just report it to Asta, she'll help you deal with it."

"Do you know how much that powder costs?!"

"Of course I do. But do you think this will make a dent in any of their accounts?"

"...Ah."

You let out a pout, smoothing your hair before directing a confused gaze at him. "Anyways, why did you come to look for me?" you questioned, genuinely curious. It was a rare occurrence for him to seek you out during work hours; he usually adhered strictly to his schedule and dismissed any potential distractions. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you continued, crossing your arms playfully. "Orrrr…did you miss me? Hmmm?"

He scoffed, flicking your forehead lightly as you yelped in surprise. "Don't be foolish," he retorted, but there was a faint hint of amusement in his eyes. "I came to ask if I could borrow some equipment from your lab."

"Equipment? Why? Don't you have everything you need already?" you asked, rubbing your forehead in mild exasperation as you watched him rummage through the cabinets in your classroom. "Those idiots managed to break almost half of everything in the lab, including several crucial apparatuses," Ratio grunted, rubbing his temple in frustration. You couldn't help but silently pray for his students, who would soon face his wrath upon his return to the lab.

Shrugging, you gave him a nod of confirmation to rummage through your cabinets for whatever he needed. "Yeah, go ahead. My class won't really be needing anything today anyways."

As he finished grabbing the necessary items, he paused when he felt another tug at his shirt. Turning around, he looked at you with a puzzled expression, noting the mischievous glint in your eyes— he knew that look all too well. "What is it?" he inquired cautiously.

You grinned cheekily at him, chuckling softly. "Just because I'm allowing you to borrow my stuff, doesn't mean I'm giving it to you for free."

He frowned, genuinely puzzled as to what you could possibly want in return. If you were anyone else, he might have already told you off and demanded you keep your hands to yourself. But you were his dear significant other, so he decided to play along. "Do tell me what it is that you want."

You hummed thoughtfully, continuing to fiddle with the purple fabric draped over his shoulder. "Hmm… I don't know. Why don't you take a guess?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "It's something you forgot this morning," you added cryptically.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression, his mind working to decipher your words. "Something I forgot?" he muttered to himself, setting the basket of apparatus onto the table before narrowing his eyes at you. "I'd appreciate it if you'd get straight to the point, my dear," he said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone.

With a sigh, you raised a finger and tapped it against your pouty lips, gazing at him with a mock frown.

Ratio paused, his mind working through the puzzle until the realization finally dawned on him. Ah, so that's what you were huffing about.

How childish.

"You want a kiss? Is that it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, half-amused and half-exasperated.

When you finally nodded with a triumphant smirk, Ratio felt his shoulders relax, shaking his head in quiet amusement. The corner of his lips twitched as if fighting the urge to curl into a smirk at your foolishness. "You're so childish, my love," he murmured, his voice soft but teasing.

He leaned in closer, his arms slipping around your waist, pulling you gently toward him. His other hand came up, fingers brushing your chin as he tipped your face upward.

You couldn’t help but smile giddily, heart fluttering in anticipation. And then, with a warmth that melted every teasing remark, his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was gentle, affectionate— everything you had wanted.

He pulled away, a soft blush dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears, though he tried to maintain his composure. His thumb brushed teasingly against your bottom lip, causing you to meet his gaze with playful mischief in your eyes.

"That's it?"

He blinked, confusion flickering in his expression. "What do you mean 'that's it'?" he scoffed, gently pinching your cheeks in mild exasperation. "I gave you what you wanted— what else is there?"

You pouted dramatically, crossing your arms. "You took so many of my apparatus and other equipment. You think one kiss is gonna be enough? Scam!"

Ratio’s eyes widened for a moment before he let out a low chuckle, realizing you weren’t going to let him off the hook so easily. "A scam, you say?" He leaned in close again, a smirk tugging at his lips as his fingers traced your waist. "Alright, what will it take to settle this 'debt' of mine?"

You pretended to ponder, your eyes tracing over the familiar contours of his face. "Hmm… your total will beee…"

"Ten kisses," you declared proudly, flashing a playful grin. "And that’s with a discount!"

He rolled his eyes, letting out a barely audible groan. "You minx," he grumbled, though the way his fingers squeezed your waist and the softness in his eyes betrayed his affection. "Fine then, I won’t bargain any further."

With a defeated sigh, he leaned in and began peppering kisses across your face; nine quick ones, each accompanied by a light laugh from you. He saved the last one for your lips, pressing against you gently but with a familiar warmth that fit like the final piece of a puzzle.

Just when you thought it was over, he decided to push it a little further, keeping his lips locked with yours for longer this time. The kiss lingered, deep and slow, until you playfully smacked his shoulders with a soft whine. He finally pulled away, chuckling at the flushed look on your face, only to sneak in one last kiss— an eleventh.

You blinked in surprise, staring at him in mock disbelief as he casually turned back to pick up the basket of equipment. "Wha— that was eleven kisses!" you protested, though you weren’t exactly complaining.

He shrugged casually, walking out the door with a final glance over his shoulder. "Keep the change, sweetheart."

Before you could protest with a panicked look, he was already gone.

---

Ratio returned to his class a few minutes later than he'd intended, the usual sharpness in his stride slightly softened. As he entered, he noticed his students staring at him. Some with wide-eyed confusion, others with flushed cheeks, and more than a few giggling quietly amongst themselves.

Frowning, he set the borrowed equipment down on the table, neatly arranging it as he always did. "If there's something you'd like to ask, do speak. It is rude to stare," he said curtly, glancing up at them with his usual sternness.

There was an awkward pause before one of the braver students spoke up, trying to stifle a grin.

"Uh, Sir Ratio…there's lipstick on your lips."

His hand froze mid-motion, eyes widening slightly in realization. The clatter of glass breaking followed as two of the newly borrowed apparatus slid from his grasp and shattered on the floor.

The room fell silent.

He shuffled awkwardly, bending down to collect the shards of broken glass, his face a deep shade of red. Raising a hand to cover his mouth, he muttered curses under his breath, embarrassed by the situation. Clearing his throat, he tried to regain some semblance of composure. "Ahem— I apologize. Please continue with your reports while I clean this up."

Now he was 10 kisses in debt.

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