#‹ love within the eyes ∕ ooc . ♡

[yzashaven]

CONTENT WARNING .ᐟ dom!scaramouche x fem!reader ⋆ breeding ⋆ creampies ⋆ face down ass up + mating press + riding ⋆ oral m!rec ⋆ deepthroat ⋆ slapping & spanking (once) ⋆ praise ⋆ "slut" + "good girl" ⋆ squirting ⋆ rough sex ⋆ needy scara ⋆ [tell me if i missed anything, thank you ♡]

WORD COUNT ᯓ 1.37k

NOTE ᝰ late birthday special, sigh... going back to my roots as a scara lover ♡ i'm sorry for any errors or whatever that seems ooc... my take at some fluff at the start, it's definitely mid but good enough LMAO happy new year, may 2025 be good to us all. yza loves you 💌

[ nsfw under cut ]

"this is actually pretty good, surprisingly edible, coming from you." scaramouche says, chewing softly on the cake that you had baked yourself.

"hey, i know a few recipes or so!" you laugh lightly, "and you're welcome. my baking skills have improved, you can't lie." he scoffs but give you a slight nod, "alright, whatever you say." he cuts up a bite size piece and brings it to your lips, you open your mouth to accept it. he smiles.

his precious smile.

"i never thought i'd spend a birthday like this—you know, the traditional way with cake and stuff." a sigh leaves his lips. he comes closer, "do me one last birthday request, won't you?"

"oh, sure!"

— ☆★ —

"take it deeper." his sharp voice cuts through the silence and heavy atmosphere of the room. with you on your knees before him. his cock inside your mouth as he pushes himself deeper, inch by inch. you move on your own now. taking his dick from the tip and down to the base, all the way down and back up. over and over.

"fuck. that's good." you look up at him, cheeks flushing at the scene before you: scaramouche's head thrown back, the light from the moon softly illuminating upon his beautiful features, the way his breathing was already uneven.

he's perfect.

his hand goes to the back of your head, "that's enough, love. i'm gonna cum already..." you pull away upon hearing so. "strip for me." he helps you up but you get shy from his request. "maybe you can do it for me–" he sighs immediately, "no. strip for me."

holding onto the last bit of your pride, you began to take off each article of clothing you had on. all the while making eye contact with his pretty eyes. your heart's beating so fast from the anticipation of what's next to come.

scaramouche can't help but slowly stroke his cock from watching you. he seems to be just as needy as you are.

"get on the bed, face down ass up for me." his eyes get a good look at your form, back arching just for him. he easily discards his clothes as he walks over behind you. a hand gropes your ass, giving it a playful spank. you were so sure he was smirking at the way you moaned so sweetly at the action.

you could feel his tip teasing the wet slit of your pussy, "you wouldn't mind if i went rough today, would you?" he asked despite already knowing the answer. before you could even breathe in response, he had already plunged into you. completely bottoming out within your hole. "god, you're tight... so wet, just how i fucking like it."

he sets a steady but rough pace. hands gripping your hips as he pulls you back to meet each of his thrusts. "scara! right there..!" you manage to say in between your moans, "you close, baby?" his voice rings in your head as his hand dips down, fingers drawing small circles on your clit, giving it a decent amount of attention as well.

"cum on my cock for me." you bite down on the pillow nearby to muffle your whimpers that grew increasingly loud. scaramouche scoffs and grabs you by the neck, pulling you back up, "let me hear you."

your entire body shudders as your orgasm hits you hard. he continues to thrust deep inside your pussy, "i'm on the edge, baby. fuck–let me cum inside... can i?" his voice trembled with need, desperation, even. you nod, wanting to accept his load. not long after, you feel his warm seed filling you up. he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly in an embrace.

he lets you go and you fall onto the soft bed. scaramouche flips you over and spreads your legs. bringing down two fingers to spread apart your pussy lips, "not enough." he simply says and instantly puts you into a mating press. "huh? what do you mean?" still breathless, you managed to ask.

"we're not done until my cum is dripping from your cunt. i want to breed you, baby. i want you completely full, aching, sensitive—and of course satisfied. so you're gonna take everything i give you tonight like the good girl i know you are, alright?"

a red hue spreads across your face, making you blush at just the thought of him fulfilling his words. he notices that you weren't responding and grabs your chin, "i expect an answer."

"y-yes! i'll take it all... for you."

"that's my girl."

he thrusts back into your pussy, trapping you in a tight mating press, making sure you couldn't escape him. his movements are fast, rough, desperate. with the addition of his thumb massaging your clit, it was hard to hold any approaching orgasm in.

"let go, baby. cum all you want." he whispers right before finding an area on your collarbone to leave a hickey or two on, marking you as his. you submit to the feeling of an intense orgasm, creaming all over his cock. despite your words about how you're still sensitive having just came, he continues to relentlessly pound into you.

scaramouche pushes himself as deep as he can go, his seed definitely reaching your womb. you could feel his tip lightly brushing over your cervix. with shaking hands, you attempt to push him away. but he just steals your lips in a heated kiss, "i love being inside you. this is such a good fucking gift."

pulling out, cum oozes out of your used hole. he smirks but pushes his cock back inside, pushing the fluids deeper within you. you were already a mess—and he loved it. scaramouche continues making out with you, tongue entering your mouth while he rocks his hips against yours, fucking you mercilessly.

a visible string of saliva connected your lips. your hands reach down to hold tightly onto the sheets beneath. your eyes threatened to shut close as the feeling of fatigue was creeping up on you.

slap!

your body jolts awake at the sudden impact on your cheek. looking up at the man before you, scaramouche seemed rather upset...?

"keep your eyes open. got it? don't you dare fall asleep on me, slut." all you could really do was nod. wrapping your legs around him made his body shudder in pleasure. the way you were practically helping him reach even deeper areas in you. it was so hot to him.

"you're gonna be the death of me, baby." he laughs right before capturing your lips in a needy kiss yet again, emptying out his load in your pussy for the nth time. he gives you both some time to catch your breaths before pulling you on top of him as he sits with his back against the headboard of the bed.

"ride me."

scaramouche's eyes travel across your trembling body as you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. lookign down, you could vividly see that some of the cum from your pussy had dripped down to coat the base of his dick, leaving a sort of white ring around it.

his hand finds its way back to your hips, while his other one reaches for your chest. thumb gently flicking one of your hardened nipples. he leans down to lovingly suck on them as well. he could feel himself getting even more turned on if that was even possible from hearing you moan from what he's doing to your body.

holding onto his shoulders tightly, you feel yourself losing control as you squirt on him. "yeah, that's it, drench me. fuck... that's so hot. i'm gonna fill you up again, 'kay?" your eyes roll back as he orgasms again, giving you another well deserved creampie.

"happy birthday, scara..." you manage to smile even when your entire body was shaking, sensitive from the feeling of having one orgasm after another. "thank you, darling. i'm grateful." scaramouche pulls you in for a deep and passionate kiss. holding you in his arms, he began to pound up into you. parting from the kiss, he makes eye contact. "i love you."

[therightbeaches]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: following a near-encounter with death, your not-quite-boyfriend slash boss takes it upon himself to take care of you. [5.7k] contents: fem!bau!reader, reader was mentioned to be hurt but no gory descriptions about what happened, but theres semi-graphic (?) descriptions of hypothetical injury, first kiss, soft hotch, this is fully self-indulgent fluff (forgive me) a/n: i've never written for criminal minds before and i am rather nervous so please dont criticize too harshly :') + i tried to not make him too ooc (not sure how well that worked out.) i also beg for one-shot requests because i love writing them :p reblogs and comments are more than appreciated ♡ i hope you enjoy!

Sense by sense you come to.

Taste. On your tongue lingers the metallic taste of blood. It coats your throat thick like petroleum jelly. The aftertaste of artificial sweetener. Saccharine.

Smell. It’s sterile, alcohol swabs. Dully sweet like laundry. Coffee and creamer. So good and warm it’s nauseating.

Hearing. Steady beeping somewhere from your right. The rustle of fabric. Birdsong bleeds through thick walls. A phone rings, shrill and stark amongst the dull hustle and bustle outside of your room, and a woman speaks unintelligibly.

Touch. A pinprick tag itches against the back of your neck. Scratchy cotton sheets and a gauzy blanket and a too-flat pillow. Then a slow-burning hurt that climbs through your limbs like being devoured by flame, and you think that if you didn’t already meet your end then this must be what it’s like.

Your eyes blink open. The fluorescent lights above are too bright for you to see anything. Metal clinks as someone opens the curtains, then, Aaron’s face comes into your view in a hazy blur. He has a big bandage on his left cheek and prominent dark circles but otherwise looks well enough.

“Hello,” he says, and a warm paper cup of coffee is pushed into your stiff hands. “How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?”

“Um... a six and a half. I mostly feel really out of it.”

“They’ve given you as much painkillers as they can. I bet that the brain fog will lift once you have something solid to eat.”

You push yourself up slowly as he edges into focus. In one hand he has a black duffel bag with your old shirt’s dirty sleeve hanging out of the zipper top, white fabric stained rust-brown with dirt and old blood. In the other, a thick manila folder with a seal adorning the front and his pen shoved into the crease.

There’s a strange silence then; strange within itself and strange in the fact that, with him, silence is never strange. His lips twitch downwards: he can feel it too. Then he inhales sharply as though it stings to speak.

“You were more than brave out there. You saved Julia’s life.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Your tone must not be convincing enough because he puts the bag down and curls his fingers around the half-rails of your bed, reinforces the idea with a pointed look and sighs, “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t have made it in time to help her without your courage.”

“Thank you,” you say again, milder this time.

He doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t need to. The sort of unspoken communication that blossoms with time and effort; he looks out for you, and in turn you look out for him. It’s the same for the rest of the team, of course, but it’s no coincidence that you’re the one he always picks to watch his six in the field. And, again, he needn’t speak for you to know. Perhaps born from the innate desire to wane the burn of vulnerability; words stamped across his skin invisible to the untrained eye.

It’s different this time, though. He’s leaving not because he wants to — rather, he has to, stolen away from you as you were him by your profession (a whole thirty-six hours he had to spend without you around to nag him, what a tragedy it was!) You’d expected him to come just to leave since the moment you saw him, but perhaps foolishly, you’d clung to a shard of hope that’d cut up and bloodied your palms. You rub them together self-consciously.

He waves the folder in the air unenthusiastically and, despite him knowing you’ve already put the pieces together, voices it anyway.

“I can’t really stay for long,” he says simply.

“Where are you going?”

A prompt, disguised by niceties in typical fashion, though entirely unnecessary with him: when will I be able to see you again?

He sucks on his teeth and flips the folder open. “Albany. I think a day or two at most and we’ll be back.” He spares the details of the case lest you worry yourself to your grave. Your recent brush with death has already been nearly too much for the team to handle.

You don’t mean to slip into the habit of doubting him, not Aaron, who knows better than to lie to you because always he’ll splinter, crack, then crumble into a fine powder under the weight of your gaze. He’s smart, so smart, and so perceptive and by God if you know anything, you know him — down to the lines of his fingerprints and each individual eyelash across his waterlines, and you know now that something is troubling him.

“What is it?” you ask.

His brows crease in the center like you’ve said something offensive. “What is what?”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s sulking.

He knows something that you don’t and he doesn’t want to tell you — evident through the bob of his Adam’s apple with a thick swallow, the whitening of his knuckles around the bed’s guard rails. You give your cup a perfunctory squeeze and the plastic lid pops off and skitters to the ground.

There’s another silence wherein you wait, he waits too, staring at you dumbly. An eternity passes till he brushes his thumb over the length of your forearm, elbow to wrist, then traces the ridges of your knuckles before letting his arm drop limply to his side. He looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot and draws the blue privacy curtains around your bed to enforce extra precaution.

“I was just worried,” he finally says, his voice lowered. “I still am, honestly. You know, seeing you like… this.” Like, sick and weak, strung up with IVs like a puppet and unable to move without strain. “And I don’t want to leave you,” he adds as an afterthought.

In the presence of other agents, doctors, strangers, he’s a professional. He knows how to keep things curt and platonic, but when it’s just you and him, I missed you, I was worried about you, I need you around, I can’t lose you.

The way he speaks to you makes you feel something. He worries about you every moment you’re on the field. He frets over you when you’re ill, misses you when you’re apart, thinks about you all the time. Long ago you’d passed the threshold between mere team members to friends, and now, you’re touching base with what’s next. Beyond friends. Borderline lovers. Whatever that could mean for you. And the vulnerability in his voice strikes you, making him sound so small, so pained by your pain.

“You don’t need to worry,” you say, hoping to soothe his qualms. “I feel alright.”

“I can’t help it. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” is your light response, then a switch of the topic, and you ask again, “Will you tell me about the case?”

He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then it moves to push your hair out of your eyes. Lingers in a soft caress on your cheek and your palm fits over the back of it when you lift your hand to cover his.

“Like I said, I think it’ll only be a couple days. Don’t stress yourself out over it. I want you to focus on getting better, alright?”

“Can you call me?” you ask.

“Every chance I get.”

And, trapped in the makeshift prison of your hospital bed, you can only croak out a weak goodbye that scratches your throat as you watch him leave.

⊹₊ 𐙚

It’s been a week since they discharged you from the hospital, assigned a lot of rest and fluids. Seldom a word from Aaron, though, and you, too, are beginning to fret just like he had over you. Your cuticles are peeled from existence, you’ve bit your nails too short and raw and red, your lips are chapped to the point your mouth tastes of metal more often than not.

Penelope has been more than kind and has kept you company in your too-empty apartment, even bringing over the case file and a grainy image of the evidence board sent over by the rest of the team for your viewing pleasure. You didn’t have much of value to add and ended up feeling more useless than you were to begin with.

Now, your gaze is trained on the toes of your too-big socks. A seam is misaligned along the top and the heel has pulled up to the back of your ankle. And you think of him. He’s all you can think about as of late. Feels something like nausea crawling up your throat to think of something happening to him.

Nervous. On edge. Sick with worry. He said one or two days. It’s been six and counting, who knows what could have happened to him out there, he was being secretive about it and he’s never secretive with you. Not you, why wouldn’t he tell you what was happening? Why wouldn’t he let on any details about the case? What if he’d anticipated getting hurt or —

You don’t dare entertain the thought. The only reason you’d imagined it up in the first place is because it happened to you. In the end, you’re still very much human no matter how much bureaucratic authority you have. That’s to say, you’re very much flesh and blood and bone, and from the safety of your apartment Aaron is even more so when he’s out on the field. Flesh can be cut, torn apart, blood can spill unstoppably like a faucet, bone can shatter into a million unfixable pieces. A bulletproof vest will do nothing against a knife jammed into his neck or a shotgun to the back of his head. You shudder and tug at your socks to un-bunch them from your heels.

In the middle of your bout of overthinking, the lock on your door clicks and turns and it swings open with a quiet creak. Aaron stands in the doorway, backlit by the dingy lights outside, akin to an angel with the cast of his hair and the contours of his face dipped in shadow.

“Hello? Honey, I have something for you,” is the first thing he says, the silhouette of his arm twisted to hide something behind his back. From his other hand dangles his go-bag, which falls to the floor of your living room with a dull thud. He peels out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair.

The relief chokes you. Strangles you till you’re blue in the face. You’re struck speechless and can only watch as he pushes the door closed behind him and tosses the keys into the catchall on the hall table, toes off his shoes, then comes over to sit with you on the couch. Plastic crinkles behind his back as he moves closer.

“I’ve got something,” he says again. “A present for you.”

“Aaron-”

“Before you say I didn’t need to, I wanted to,” he interjects, waving a hand to stop you. “I saw them while I was out and thought of you.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

All turbulent emotions vanish like morning dew on a sunny afternoon, your heart thrumming hard against the confinement of your ribs. You let yourself think it’s only because you’re just excited to see him in good spirits, certainly not because he places a hand on your knee and squeezes lightly, or looks at you with poorly-concealed adoration in his gaze, or the knowledge of the fact he thinks of you often enough to go out of his way to get you something nice.

From behind his back, he produces a bouquet of pink roses wrapped neatly in a matching shade of cellophane with a flourish and you nearly fall to the ground. He’s brought you flowers. Roses. He saw roses while he was out and they made him think of you, and that thought alone nearly has you knocked out cold.

You’re able to mutter his name before you reach for his shoulders for a hug, and he lets out a small huff as he’s pushed down to lay back on the couch with your arms around him.

“Consider this my apology for being too busy to call,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “Consider your apology accepted.”

His free hand rubs up and down your back, lingering flush to the space between your shoulder blades to press you close to his chest. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Has Garcia been taking good care of you?”

You nod into his shoulder. “You know her.”

“That I do. Do you have a vase that I can put your flowers in?”

“There’s one in the kitchen cabinet.”

But he doesn’t yet stand to retrieve it, too engrossed in the warmth of your hug. This is not how a boss acts with his subordinate. Not even how a friend would act. If he were just a friend he wouldn’t come to you first, because your space is his space, and he wouldn’t have brought you a really nice bouquet, and he wouldn’t find such comfort in your embrace and the smell of your perfume that he goes slack under you. Him and you, always, together.

A moment passes and he shifts out from beneath you. You watch him get up with remorse, his hand holding onto yours till the distance draws his fingers away.

“You know,” he begins, rummaging around in your cabinets to find the aforementioned vase, “I’ve been honing in on my cooking skills.”

“That so?” you ask from the sofa, jelly-limbed with your neck craned to watch him.

“I can make stir fry if you want dinner.” His arm retracts from the cabinet, hand around the neck of your vase.

So he cooks for you. Insists upon it, even. Even though the hospital cleared you fine to go home and you feel more or less well, he insists on taking care of you. You let him. Maybe for his peace of mind. A chance to take care of you just like you’ve taken care of him countless times before. You won’t pretend to not like having him dote on you.

The roses sit between you, lit by warm candlelight because the overhead light buzzes too loud and the bulb flickers when you turn it on. It’s sweet and it’s romantic, shit, you really shouldn’t be getting so personally involved with your boss. The no-fraternization rules implemented by the Bureau higher-ups have been hammered into your skull since the day you joined, yet just look at you. Too late for go-backs now.

Over the table, you say, “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

It’s not that you’re implying anything because you’re not, voice void of sexual innuendo. He doesn’t seem to take it in such a way anyway. His gaze meets yours and he draws closer with a hand curled like a cage atop yours.

“I will,” he replies. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

He’s slept over before a secret half-a-dozen or so times, mostly on the couch. Only in your bed once. That one time was after you’d came home from a particularly bad case, and it was the second time you’d seen him as upset as he was. Beaten black and blue, scraped up worse than he’s ever been on the job. You’d diligently cleaned his wounds up (always too proud to sit in the back of an ambulance and let a professional take care of it), sat with him until he fell asleep, then you never spoke of it again.

Tonight he sleeps beside you. Blissfully unaware to the way you stare at his profile — the line of his nose, the mess of his hair where it’s fallen over his forehead, the way the light catches on his fluttering lashes and turns them a pale blue. The back of your knuckles run against his cheekbone. Tender, soft, so unlike most anything else he knows now.

He’s beautiful. All of you belongs to him.

You stir to Aaron’s heavy arm draped across your abdomen and crack one eye open to see him staring at you. The room is warm, sunshine spilling over his back to paint him shining gold, and the tip his of nose presses against your neck when he sees you’re awake. He must’ve gotten up before you woke because you can smell fresh-cut grass from the open window and the scent of coffee brewing floats in from the kitchen, and from outside you can hear the humming drone of a lawnmower, the song of morning birds chirping.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, more a murmur than anything.

You shake your head no. A part of you — the small part that yearned for his care and attention long before now — is awestruck. You’ve got Aaron in your bed, the same Aaron who bleeds and hurts and fights beside you, the man who hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place, and he’s touching you like you’re made of glass.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m okay for now,” you reply.

“Are you sure, honey? I can cut up some fruit for you. You could do with some vitamins… maybe some sun, too.” Mournfully, he gets up from bed, leaving you with only the warmth of the sheets where he lay just a moment ago. You watch, blinking slow, breathing slow.

“I’m really fine,” you insist meekly, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

With hands planted on either side of your head, he leans back over you in bed, brows pulled in concern like you’re still bedridden in the hospital. His thumb ghosts over the delicate skin of your undereye, then lower, feather-light down the slope of your jaw and to where your collarbone peeks out from the neck of your shirt.

“I’ll bring you a bowl,” he says, disregarding the rejection.

And then he kisses you before he leaves to the kitchen. Nothing full-fledged, only a brief press of his lips to your cheek, but it renders a swell in your gut, too hot beneath your quilt, breathless like your heart is going to rip straight out of your chest and chase him down to kiss him again. The print of his lips burns white-hot. A brand on your skin.

He pauses in the threshold of your bedroom and looks back. “I’m sorry if that was… weird.”

“No! No, it wasn’t weird. I liked it, actually.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron fusses over you incessantly the entire day, from cutting your fruit up to holding your hand to help you to the couch, despite your insistence that you’re fully recovered. He isn’t so used to putting his feelings so brashly on display, but you’ve been walking this tightrope between friends and more for a while and it’s no secret he wants it. Wants you. Wants whatever you may have to offer. No matter if you’re well or not, he’ll want you.

“Thank you,” you say over lunch, picking idly at the tangerine he’d peeled for you. “For staying with me, I mean.”

He lifts his head. He’s opened the window above your sink, citing the lovely weather and your need for sunshine as his reasons for letting the bugs in, and it makes his eyes shine from his seat facing the sun.

You’re like a vampire, he had said. Don’t get me wrong, definitely a beautiful and kind one, but fresh air will do you good, then he’d laughed as he stood in the spill of warmth exuding from the open window.

In his hand is the other half of the tangerine, which he assiduously peels the spongy pith from and discards in a small heap atop your dining table.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind.” Aaron breathes out and hands you two slices stripped of their white viscera. “I like taking care of you. Every so often someone get hurts on the field and it never gets more comfortable to deal with. It makes me feel… good to be here with you.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s only the truth.”

You’ve been better for the greater part of a week and no longer need babying like you did at the start, you think, but withhold on commenting for fear that he thinks you don’t like having him around. You more than like it, really, and you like it even more when he leans over the table enticingly.

He’s smiling widely when he speaks. “And the company is the best part.”

“Even if the company is a vampire?” You touch the side of his throat, flush over his jugular where a vampire might bite. His heart thrums hard beneath the pads of your fingers when you push down with the faintest pressure.

“Even so.”

⊹₊ 𐙚

“Can I see you in my office? There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

You stand from your desk. Aaron — rather, Hotch, because you’re at work — has been staring at you through his window the entire morning like a reverse-scenario zoo animal in an enclosure. It’s been unsettling to feel someone’s eyes on you perpetually but you let it slide because you know he’s just worried. He made it very clear that he didn’t want you coming back to the office so soon, for worry you might bump a fading bruise on the exceedingly dangerous desks in the bullpen or injure your back further by sitting in the expensive, cushy roller chair.

It’s an overcast Monday in light of your sunny weekend. Aaron had messaged you at five-thirty in the morning, insisted heavily that if you intended on coming in today then it had better be with a warm coat on. You’d come to a tentative middle ground via a knit sweater that he likes because Emily runs cold and makes sure the whole office knows it (Seriously, you can’t remember the last time she’d allowed it to be less than the low eighties, and most of the team would rather bear the heat than listen to her gripe about how cold it is. Today, it’s freezing. The heat is broken and you figure you’ll have to deal with it once she comes in.)

He’s waiting for you when you step in and close the door behind you, drawing the blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’d be better if you’d stayed home to rest.”

“I promise I’m recovered enough for desk work, Aaron.”

He grumbles with no real upset and beckons for you to come around the other side of his desk. When you do and lean back with palms braced over the lip, a broad hand slips around your waist to touch your back. He drops it quickly. So unprofessional, you might tease, if you weren’t so pleased with the fact that he’s unabashedly touching you at work.

Something in the air has shifted. Following the night you spent together, it’s as if the spark between you has turned into a real firecracker, a sparkling dazzle of neon color and fizzling light. He’d left Saturday afternoon after a lot of coaxing that you’d be alright alone, made you promise you’d eat real food and not just cereal and frozen pizza and TV dinners. Most importantly, he wouldn’t leave without kissing you silly all over your cheeks and forehead and jaw. And when you’d anticipated the killing blow and closed your eyes and parted your lips, he’d bid you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your shoulder.

It was cruel, but you don’t mind waiting for a real kiss. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the juice, isn’t that what they say? This thing, for lack of a better word, with Aaron being as discernible as it is, is still relatively new. Not to mention he’s navigating romance for the first time again after Haley, so you’re more than willing to take it slow with him.

“What did you do over the rest of the weekend?” he asks conversationally.

“You know, the ushe.” You tuck your cold hands between your knees, press your lips together like you���re really devastated by the answer you’d come up with. “I laid around feeling sorry for myself, missing you…” you trail off, wistful.

“You poor thing,” Aaron responds sympathetically. “What can I do?”

You lean forward with a mock show of great sadness, though not without an underlying coquettish, hopeful demeanor. “The only thing that would make it all better is dinner later tonight with someone special.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking of asking my own someone special if she wanted to get takeout and spend the night at mine after work.”

It’s awful, the way he’s staring at you and beaming. Like you’re the one who hung all the stars in the sky, crafted the constellations just for him; like you control the tide of the ocean and the spin of the Earth; like you’re the light that makes the moon glow. Makes you want to grab him by his hand and bring him back to your place and never let him leave the comfort of your apartment. Keep him safe and warm and content.

You settle instead on smoothing his lapels down. He isn’t propositioning you when he asks you to stay over — never would he be so blatant, and you don’t think you’re quite involved enough yet for such a risqué offer to be on the table (though the notion has you imagining a torturous handful of things that you wouldn’t dream of telling him about.)

“Tell you what,” he begins. He moves his chair to be positioned in front of you. You have to look directly down to see him face-to-face. “We’ll pick up some dinner and we can watch whatever movie you like. Do you have your go-bag?”

“I do... and if I want to watch Mean Girls?”

“I’ll watch anything you want,” he supplies.

“Oh, how sweet are you?”

“Don’t tell anyone. My professional reputation would be ruined.”

Truth be told, there is a prominent lack of ‘professional reputation’ in Aaron’s department, at least within the team. He can pretend as much as he likes for as long as he likes but it’s their specialty to sniff out lies, pick up on secret cues, and of course they notice when he comes into the office with two cups of coffee instead of one, when he holds your hand to help you up the steps of the jet. You’ve received enough conspiratorial looks to know that they know.

You don’t suppose Aaron is your boyfriend. Your relationship with him is a nuanced thing. Becoming the brunt of office gossip is one thing, jeopardizing your careers is another — Strauss has her suspicions and there’s been, well… talk that stokes the (albeit small) kindling flame. It comes down to having a discussion that will remain on the back burner until the both of you can sit down and discuss the professional implications and the other difficult things that Aaron doesn’t want to talk about.

Dark has long since encompassed the Bureau by the time that he decides to be done working. You’ve been waiting on the couch in his office for the better part of the day, his suit jacket draped over your legs fashioned into an impromptu blanket. And then there’s the shuffling of loose-leaf paper shoved into folders, the scratch of his chair’s wheels as he pushes it in.

The toes of his shiny oxfords come into view and a kind hand pushes a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

He wedges his hand beneath the small of your back to get you up. You’re tired from your day and limp when he encourages you to sit, but ultimately allow him to prop you up against the back of the couch. You take his hand to stand up when he offers it to you.

One and a half years ago, he wouldn’t dream of holding your hand. Wouldn’t even sit next to you in the conference room or on the jet, in fact. But Aaron didn’t really start liking liking you until eight months ago and didn’t tell you for even longer. It took him a long while to gather the courage to come out and just say it like any normal adult with feelings might do.

If you told your former self you’d wind up holding hands with Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, going home to eat dinner with him and sleep in his bed, you’d have laughed in your own face. The most you’d ever let yourself indulge in such a fantasy prior to his grandiose confession of more than friendly feelings was maybe, just maybe, in an alternate timeline you’d met Aaron under different circumstances and it would have been history.

But you have him in this timeline. You have him picking up your dinner, driving you to his house, crouching down in front of you to undo the buckles keeping the straps of your kitten heels fastened around your ankles. He rubs your calf after tucking your shoes away before he stands and walks to the kitchen.

“What a long day,” he comments. He loosens the knot of his tie and looks over at you over his shoulder. “For you especially, I imagine. Does it get tiring, laying on the couch in my office?”

“Mhm,” you hum agreeably. “A very long day of very grueling paperwork. My boss can’t stop assigning me more and more when there are other agents who could share the workload.”

You know Aaron is smiling, even as he’s faced with his back to you. It’s clear in his voice. “Maybe your boss just thinks you’re very diligent and produce quality work.”

“That sounds to me a lot like favoritism, Hotchner.” You saunter up behind him, draping your arms around his waist. He tears apart the plastic bag holding your food then separates portions onto two ceramic plates.

“Uh-huh,” he says wryly. “You see, honey, favoritism would be more like if I let a member of my team quote unquote lay down to rest her eyes on my sofa instead of doing her work like I very kindly asked — oh wait, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So I am your favorite? Ooh, how scandalous. Imagine if word got out that you were picking favorites.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you have to ask.” Aaron turns and puts a hand on the back of your neck, scoffs, shakes his head good-naturedly. This mood he’s in, playful, teasing, is so rare, and you love it. “Do you ever see me letting Morgan take a nap during work hours?”

“Derek will nap regardless if you let him or not.”

(This is true. You’d caught him sleeping in the conference room once. He’d made you swear not to tell Aaron in exchange for vending machine money — and who were you to deny such a generous offer? Your silence was easily bought via chocolate bars.)

“In that case, I might have to give him a stern talking to.” His expression is grim.

“Oh, please don’t. He gave me money to buy candy from the machines if I swore not to tell you.”

Aaron is delighted by this answer. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“Does that make me a bad friend?” you ask morosely.

“No, no. You’re the best friend. And an even better subordinate for ratting him out… it’s good to know where your loyalty lies.”

He’s laughing when he says it and then he isn’t laughing a mere moment later. Rather, he’s leaning in on a whim, eyes fluttering shut, a hand over the back of your neck, thumbs a whisper against the curve of your cheek. There’s a perceptible flash that travels like lighting up your spine — he’s going to kiss you for real this time, you know he is, and it’s something you’ve wanted for who-knows how long and it’s finally yours to have. To keep. And it’s not just about the kiss, is it? It’s about Aaron, like it most always is, and you thank your lucky stars one by one to have found a man like him and to be able to keep him.

But it’s over nearly as soon as it began. How torturous for it to end so quickly when you’ve dreamt of kissing him day and night. It’s only right for you to go for another and another and another, and yes, juice is always sweeter when the fruit has had time to ripen.

[celestemona]

no because imagine their reactions when genshin dads felt their baby kick for the first time, i'd be crying imagine the 'i made this' or 'omgomgomgomg' reactions

no because i had to write it. thanks anon ♡♡

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and they feel their babies kicks for the first time.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley + heizou x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader. use of endearment names; arabic, japanese, farsi & french terms. approximately 4.1k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

ALHAITHAM

The first time you and your husband felt your baby moving was in the comfort of your home. The soft glow radiating from the fireplace cast swirling shadows on the walls, highlighting the warm and inviting space. You and Alhaitham were snuggled comfortably in your favorite reading nook—an old leather armchair adorned with pillows and a thick-knitted blanket. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, with your back resting against his chest, while one of your husband's muscular arms cradled you tenderly. 

As reading was a crucial part in your married life, every night you and Alhaitham found yourselves sharing stories. This time, you narrated aloud an ancient legend to Alhaitham and the baby in your womb. The tale’s language, despite being dead and little known, was not foreign to him. In fact, the scribe delighted in the tales whispered in your serene and melodic voice. 

“According to the desert dwellers, the world was once ruled by a king named Al-Ahmar,” you began, your tone carrying a sense of mystery, “a king of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. He controlled the winds that whistled through the desert, the dunes turned bright silver by the moonlight, and the thousand and one Jinn that hid in the night and the calls of owls.”

Although he already knew the story very well, Alhaitham listened to you attentively—the subtle glow of affection in his eyes watching you lovingly as his thumb traced circles on your waist in a comforting gesture.

As your voice continued to flow, a subtle yet distinct vibration occurred within your being, making you pause reading for a moment. Your eyes widened in surprise as the realization hit you, drawing a loud sigh from you. 

“‘Haitham,” you said, voice shaking slightly with emotion, “I think… I think the baby just moved.”

Your husband's eyes widened briefly before a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He placed a hand on your belly and his baby's little feet stretching your skin were felt under his palm. It was a feeling that filled him with warmth, love, and joy.

“It's the first time?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and his warm hand still under your belly. 

You nodded, your eyes shining in pure happiness. “Yes, it is.”

Alhaitham's smile widened, and he gently stroked your belly with a reverent touch. “It’s extraordinary,” he said softly. “Our little one is already making his presence known.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, and together, you savored the intimate moment. The book remained forgotten for now, overshadowed by the miraculous reality you were experiencing. 

In the peaceful comfort of your home, surrounded by the warmth of love and the promise of the future, you shared a precious moment of connection that would be treasured forever.

CYNO

The soft, golden light of twilight filtered through the trees of the Avidya Forest as Cyno and you walked back home after a visit to Tighnari. 

Although the forest guard was against the idea of ​​seeing his very pregnant friend moving excessively and unnecessarily across the Sumerian plains, Tighnari knew that going against your stubbornness was a losing battle. Therefore, he ended up welcoming both you and your husband warmly into his dwelling. 

When you finally said goodbye after a day full of conversations and delicacies cooked by Collei, the birds were already back in their nests, and the serene environment of the forest was a welcome backdrop—although Cyno could see the exhaustion etched into your face. The weight of your growing babies seemed to be taking an increasing toll.

Cyno supported you as you walked, his arm around your waist. “You look tired. Let’s take it slow,” he said gently.

You nodded, your hand resting on your stomach. “It's just... The twins' weight is a little overwhelming today. I’m more fatigued than I expected.”

You walked slowly for a few more minutes until you arrived at an abandoned cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. Cyno helped you inside, guiding you to a comfortable seat by the window, where the soft light of the setting sun bathed the empty room in a warm glow.

As you settled into the chair, you shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more relaxing position, although all you got in response was a dull pain shooting down your spine. A resigned sigh left your lips as you just accepted the situation you were in and waited for the discomfort to pass.

It was when your husband left the room to get something that could help with your relief that you felt a strange, soft vibration in your belly. It was as if butterflies were swirling inside you, bringing you a feeling of strangeness but delight. When you realized what it was really about, your eyes widened in surprise.

“What's the matter? Something wrong?” Cyno asks with concern visible in his expression. 

“I think the babies are moving.”

Cyno’s face immediately lit up in excitement, and he approached you, kneeling in your front. His hands were hesitant to touch your stomach and he looked at you. “Can I...?” he asked softly.

You smiled widely and nodded, placing his hand on the spot where you felt the movement. “Of course you can, hayati. You should be able to feel them now.”

Cyno closed his eyes briefly as he felt the small kicks and rhythmic changes beneath his palm. His expression softened into one of admiration and tenderness. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “They are already so active.”

“Tell me about it,” you say with a slight chuckle, “Now it is explained why I’ve been going to the toilet so much the last few days. These little jackals have been squeezing my poor bladder.” 

Cyno laughs along with you. However, his eyes were still mesmerized by your belly, his hands lovingly following his children's movements. 

At that moment, the world around Cyno didn't seem to exist. It was just him, you, and your babies. You shared a quiet, intimate moment, your connection with your unborn children deepening. The forest outside was peaceful, but inside the cabin, the air was filled with a palpable sense of joy and anticipation.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

The sun shone high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the peaceful meadow where Kazuha and his family were enjoying the day. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, their whispers blending harmoniously with the gentle melody of nature. Kazuha sat against a large oak tree with you resting your head in his lap, eyes closed in contentment.

Kazuha's fingers skillfully traced patterns on a windblown leaf, his serene expression a testament to his deep connection to the natural world. Your three-year-old son, Kazumi, ran around the field happily, his laughter mixing with the rustling of the grass as he played with a small wooden toy.

You, with your belly softly rounded with your second child, sighed softly—contentment evident in your relaxed posture. You placed your hands gently on your stomach, stroking it absently.

“I think she’s finally awake,” you murmured.

Kazuha's eyes softened as he looked at you. Until that day Kazuha had never witnessed his unborn daughter moving in your womb. The baby always seemed to be too sleepy to recognize her father's constant presence. “Is that so?”

Before you could nod, a precise kick hit the area above your navel. Your eyes widened at the force of the action, but an ironic laugh soon followed. “Absolutely. Looks like someone woke up to say hi to Papa.”

Kazuha's heart filled with an abundance of emotions. He carefully moved his hand to your belly feeling his little girl's rhythmic kicks. To him, the sensation was delicate, like the wings of a butterfly brushing his palm.

Kazumi, noticing that his parents seemed to be engrossed in something else, staggered towards you with wide curious eyes. He climbed into your thighs and his small hands also rested on your rounded belly. “What is it, ‘Kaa-chan?”

You smile gently, extending your hand to guide the boy's little ones to where the baby is moving. “It’s your little sister, Zumi. She’s saying hello.”

Kazumi's face lit up with wonder as he laid his head on his mother's belly, his little ears pressed against the gentle movements inside. His eyes widened in fascination as he felt the gentle, rhythmic kicks. “I can feel it! Kiki is saying hi!”

Kazuha watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, his heart full at seeing the pure excitement on Kazumi's face and the deep love in his wife's eyes. The night air was filled with peaceful harmony, his family united in this simple yet profound moment of connection and anticipation.

The sun continued to rise, bathing them in a warm, golden light that seemed to celebrate the new life they were eagerly awaiting. As Kazumi continued to listen to his sister's small movements, Kazuha gently brushed away his wife's hair, his pale fingers lingering on your cheek with a tender caress.

“I love you more than anything in this world. Thank you for making me the happiest and most complete man, my love.”

KAVEH

Kaveh stood in the middle of the room that would soon belong to his daughter, his eyes scanning every corner with a mix of determination and excitement. Samples of wallpaper, fabrics, and paint were scattered around him, along with sketches of various design ideas.

“I was thinking about using pastel colors,” he began, turning to you who was sitting in the only armchair in the empty room. “Soft tones of pink, yellow, and green. They are calming and will create a serene and peaceful environment for her. And look at this,” he took out a sample of fabric, holding it up for you to see and touch. It felt smooth against your fingers. “This is perfect for the curtains. It’s light and airy, and will let in just the right amount of sunlight.”

You watched him with a warm smile, allowing your husband to express his desires and thoughts openly, feeling your heart swell with love. “That sounds wonderful, azizam,” you add softly.

Kaveh continued, now walking a little and gesturing as he spoke. “I also want to incorporate some interactive elements. Maybe a mobile above her crib with small animals that move gently. Ah! And we could have a wall with different textures for her to explore as she grows. It’s important to stimulate her senses from an early age.”

As he spoke, you couldn't help but be amused by his reactions, also enjoying seeing this more relaxed yet excited side coming from him. Even though Kaveh considered your opinion as important as his ideas, you loved seeing the dedication the architect put into his designs—and when it came to something as intimate as creating his daughter's nursery, it was to be expected that his passion displayed twice as much. 

As he spoke happily, you listened to him in tender silence, but there was a strange feeling bubbling up inside you that left you momentarily intrigued. You attributed it to tiredness, or even hunger, but you ignored it, not wanting to worry Kaveh for nothing, much less interrupting his monologue. 

However, the vibration continued as constant, gentle but persistent movements below your navel, bringing you a slight feeling of alarm and surprise. When realization finally hit you, your breathing stopped and your hands immediately rested above your belly, feeling the movements more precisely.

“Kaveh,” you called him, your voice full of wonder.

He stopped mid-sentence and ran to your side seeing your static expression. “What? What’s happening? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shake your head, biting your lip in a futile attempt to contain your laughter. “I think she's moving. Our baby girl is moving!”

Kaveh's look went from worried to shocked in an instant, a wide smile opening soon after. He knelt down in front of you and gently placed his hands on your stomach. A light kick hit the area where his warm palm rested. 

“Hello, little one,” he whispered. “Guess you’re as excited about your room as I am, huh?”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “She can already feel how much love you’re putting into this.”

Kaveh looked at you, his expression full of love and devotion. “I want her to know how much she means to us, from this moment until the very second she enters this world. Every detail in this room will be a reminder of that.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled warmly. With some difficulty, you lean over and press a kiss to his lips to which he happily returns. “She's lucky to have a dad like you, Kaveh. And I am so grateful to have you by my side.”

He stood up and helped you do the same, quickly wrapping his arms around you right after. His head leaned against yours and you found yourself cradled in a hug filled with affection. 

“We will be the best parents we can be, azizam. I promise.”

LYNEY

The soft glow of the night lanterns filled the room with a warm, golden light. The living room was filled with a pleasant mix of the smell of burning incense and the faint scent of fresh wool. Lyney was sitting at a small, ornate table, focused intently on a new magic trick involving his pyro vision. Flames danced gracefully around his hands as he wove them into intricate shapes, their flickering light casting playful shadows on the walls.

Opposite him, you made yourself comfortable on the couch, your pregnant belly prominent under your loose robe. You were diligently knitting a pair of socks, each stitch coming together with the precision of a well-trained hand. The rhythmic clicking of your needles provided a calming counterpoint to Lyney's fiery display.

Lyney's latest trick involved sending a small burst of flame through a series of arches suspended in the air. He was so absorbed in perfecting his performance that he barely noticed the absence of the knitting needles and the change in your expression.

Suddenly, you let out a loud sigh—a sigh filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the intricate strands of wool quickly forgotten.

Lyney's concentration broke and he turned towards you with a start, dropping all his tools and heading towards your way. “Everything is fine, sweetheart? Did you get hurt? I knew I shouldn’t train at home!” he blurted out the words in a frenzy, his voice tinged with worry.

You looked at him with your eyes shining with emotion. Your husband became more and more exasperated. 

“No no. That's not it. Quite the opposite actually,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I can feel them moving!”

Lyney's eyes widened, a huge smile spreading across his face as he realized what you meant. His expression was excited, and he sit next to you. “For real? This is incredible, chérie!”

You nodded, your hand gently stroking your belly and Lyney's just above yours. “It’s such a strange and wonderful feeling. It's so subtle that it almost doesn't seem to be there. I never imagined it would be like this.”

As if they knew they now had the full attention of both parents, the babies lightly kicked the area above your navel, eliciting another excited smile from you and a look of admiration from your husband for being able to be part of such a beautiful and intimate moment for the first time. He would never admit it, but his purple irises sparkled with happy tears for a few seconds. 

With a tender smile, you shared this serene feeling in silence. The room seemed to glow a little brighter as you sat together, your bond deepened by this new shared experience. Lyney leaned over, resting his head on yours, hands still resting on your belly feeling the slight vibrations there. 

“How about we take a break from magic and knitting? Let’s just enjoy this moment together.”

You giggled softly, your heart warmed by his loving gesture. “That sounds perfect.”

NEUVILLETTE

In the calmness of Neuvillette's office, the dusk in the sky cast a warm light over all of Fontaine. Its golden and orange rays crossed through the windows of the room, creating a serene atmosphere. 

Neuvillette sat behind his desk, his usual composed expression softening into one of gentle contentment as he leaned back in his chair. Opposite him, you sat comfortably in the armchair, one delicate hand resting on your growing belly and a cup of tea in the other.

The afternoon was calm, with only the faint hum of the city beyond the window in the background. Neuvillette looked at you with a warm smile touching his lips as he observed your relaxed posture. You were talking about your day, your voice carrying a gentle melody. Neuvillette listened intently, his eyes never straying too far from your face, enjoying the simple joy of your shared moments.

As you spoke, a subtle change occurred in your expression that didn’t go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Your eyes widened slightly, and you placed a hand on your stomach, your fingers gently tracing its curve. Neuvillette immediately noticed the action and looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Is everything alright, mon amour?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of alarm.

Your eyes glowed with a mixture of surprise and joy. “I think… I think Éveline just moved,” you respond, your voice shaking with emotion. 

Neuvillette's eyes widened as well, and he quickly moved to your side, his hesitant but gentle hand covering yours on your belly. “May I?” he asked softly, his usual formality melting in the heat of the moment.

You nodded, your smile growing as you guided his hand to the right place. For a few seconds, you both just sat, your breaths mingling in the silent space. Then, Neuvillette felt it—a gentle vibration beneath his palm, a small movement that was both fleeting and profound. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

“She’s already so active.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Apparently yes. She’s letting us know she’ll be here as soon as we expect.”

Neuvillette took a deep breath, trying to savor the moment as his hand intertwined with yours. “I suppose this is one of those rare moments when words fail to capture the full depth of our feelings.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

WRIOTHESLEY

Wriothesley stood at the bedroom window, admiring the marine life outside, which was enjoying the sunlight reflected in the crystal-clear waters of the Fontaine's sea. He was already dressed in his usual attire, mentally preparing himself for another day of responsibilities at the Fortress or Meropide. Despite the weight of his duties, a small smile played on his lips as he listened to the sound of water running from the shower in the adjacent bathroom.

“Are you done, love?” he shouted, looking at the clock on the wall. “We have a council meeting in half an hour.”

Your voice floated back, warm and cheerful. “Give me two minutes, Wrio. I'm almost finishing.”

He shook his head, amused by your nonchalance. Even pregnant with your first child, you continued to be a pillar of strength and efficiency, working alongside him to keep the prison running smoothly. The thought of his unborn child brought a gentle warmth to his heart, a feeling he was still getting used to.

He began to organize some papers on his desk, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming meeting, when an abrupt, piercing scream crossed the air. Wriothesley's heart leaped into his throat, and he ran toward the door.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Did you get hurt?” his voice was full of panic as he walked in, expecting the worst.

Standing there in the shower, allowing the water to cascade over your naked body, your hands cradled your belly. Though your eyes were wide, there was no fear in them—just astonished joy.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him, your voice shaking with emotion. “He kicked. The baby kicked for the first time.”

Relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a wave of wonder and joy. He helped you out of the shower and then pulled you into his embrace, not caring that he was getting wet due to your body that just came out of the shower. Gently, he placed his hand on your belly and waited a few seconds before he too could feel the slight movement under the curving skin.

“There he is,” he whispered, his expression melting in pure devotion. “Our son.”

You nodded, happy tears blurring your eyes. “Sigewinne said it was normal for some babies not to move in their mothers’ wombs, but I think he’s finally trying to say that he’s as eager to meet us as we are to meet him.”

Wriothesley leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to meet him too,” he said softly. “This is the best way to start a day.” 

Your husband held you for a while longer, just reveling in your presence and the magical feeling of your unborn baby being present under the palm of his hand before he reluctantly pulled away. 

“Although I'd like nothing else than stay here forever, we must dry and dress you. We have a meeting to attend and I want our little one to see how his mom looks like when she's doing what she does best.”

You waved in contagious joy. “Of course, Duke. As you wish.”

After a few more exchanges of caresses, you prepared for the day, your hearts excited for the new life growing. Fortitude may take a lot out of you, but moments like these remind you of the joy and love that made each challenge worth it.

BONUS

HEIZOU

Moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting a soft, silvery glow over it. Heizou was lying comfortably behind his pregnant wife, his hand resting gently on your rounded belly. The room was quiet except for your steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

Suddenly, the detective felt a slight movement under his hand. It was no wonder he was such a light sleeper given his job and all. And then, because he thought it was you constantly moving in your sleep, he chuckled softly, bringing you closer to his embrace. “Can't stay still, huh?”, he murmured playfully.

Feeling the same movement, you opened your eyes slightly and lightly pinched his thigh. “Stop poking my belly,” you mumble, still sleepy, “You know it tickles.”

Heizou smiled in the dim light. “I’m not poking you,” he replied, gently patting your belly. “Maybe you’re just dreaming.”

You sighed, momentarily awake, and turned to face him, narrowing your eyes in mock severity. “Oh, of course. Blame my dreams when you're always the one causing trouble.”

Heizou raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Causing problems? I would never do that.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, taking care that the loud sound of your voices didn't disturb anyone else's sleep. 

When you were coming back to him with another bicker comment, another subtle movement appeared and interrupted your joking time. You caught your breath in surprise and placed your hand over your husband's, which was already resting on your belly. 

“Did you feel that?”

Heizou's playful smile disappeared and was replaced by an expression of delight. “I did,” he replied, his voice now a mere whisper. “You think...?”

“It’s the baby,” you nodded, your eyes shining with joy. “Our little Ren is moving.”

Heizou's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. “Well, it looks like our baby takes after me,” he said, his teasing tone returning. “It’s already causing a bit of confusion.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled, “Great, just what I needed—two troublemakers.”

Heizou leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You love it,” he whispered, his eyes shining.

You rested a hand on his cheek, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth and love. "I do. I love you both."

You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the shared joy of feeling the baby's first movements. “You know,” Heizou said thoughtfully, “if this is how our little one is right now, we might be in for some sleepless nights.”

You laughed a little louder this time.

“Well, I was already prepared for that. Besides, I have you by my side. So I think we will do very well.”

Heizou kissed you gently. “We will be the best team, my dear,” he promised.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?

⊱ Connection ⊰ || Mr. Gap X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Return End), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader briefly uses physical pain to distract themselves from their emotional discomfort; they also sleep to avoid their emotions), Creature/Monster X Human Relationship (Mr. Gap doesn’t fully comprehend or understand the concept of love the way that humans do, but that’s a barrier for, like… the majority of the cast haha). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Slight Angst, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,685 Request: “Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?” Author’s Note: Yipee, my first Homicipher request! Thank you for sending one in! I find Mr. Gap’s character quite entertaining – I loved the running gag of him asking the MC for different parts of their body and being like “for real?” whenever you said no. I found his desire to brag to be quite endearing, too, strangely enough. A lot of the moments that had me chuckling involved Mr. Gap, so I’m somewhat fond of his character as a result. I haven’t written any horror-meets-romance stories since my Creepypasta days, so I apologize if this is a little rough or OOC. I’m still trying to finish the game and digest all the lore haha. 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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Living within the other world had become your new normal at this point, even if you spent most of your days curled under the covers of whatever bed you could find. You slept whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t necessarily because you were tired, but rather a desire to keep your mind from wandering too much. You still found the occasional earthquakes and frequently shifting dimly-lit hallways confusing to traverse at best or frustrating to deal with at worst, but you hoped you would slowly grow to get used to them with more time. 

You run your hands down your face as you lay on the strangely pristine white bed, staring down at the blue bag that rested by your feet on the floor. For whatever reason, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that was deep-seated in your chest. It was a weight pulling you down, and it was one that had lingered for quite some time now. 

When you returned to the other world, you realized that you would most likely never be able to see Mr. Silvair or Mr. Crawling again. Despite telling yourself it was fine, that life was all about encounters and departures, that horrendous emptiness in your heart hadn’t diminished yet. 

You remember when Mr. Gap brought you back to the other world in exchange for a heart – your mind is conflicted when you think about the organ you had given him, a heart that wasn’t yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about it for longer than you need to. 

You try to remember his hand reaching out from the dark void of the bag after arriving in the strange world once more. You remember the way his cold palm felt against your scalp, lightly patting your hair in a way you thought was meant to be comforting… only for him to state he wanted your head with that jokester-esque grin of his. 

You chuckle quietly to yourself at the memory of the expression that crossed his face whenever you told him that, no, he’s not allowed to take your fingers or whatever else seems to pique his interest at the moment. Then, your mind remembers the look on his face when you asked if he was worried about you. Mr. Gap didn’t seem as though he was capable of experiencing emotions the way that most humans were, but, well… it was someone to talk to, at least, even if you run the risk of him asking for an organ or body part or hair. What did he even do with that stuff, anyway? 

Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes fall to the bag on the floor. He really only appeared whenever he wanted, but maybe you could see if he was in the mood to at least startle you as he so often enjoyed doing. With a deep breath, you reach down and grab the bag by its black straps, feeling the somewhat rough fabric against your palms. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, per se, but it was a reminder that at least you could still feel. 

You open the carrier, and the only thing that greets you is that inky blackness. You briefly wonder if it was an infinite darkness held within the unassuming gym bag, and what would happen if you just threw random things inside for the fun of it. However, as you stare into the void, a familiar face pops into view, effectively startling you out of your trance. 

Mr. Gap smiles even wider at your reaction, seemingly proud of himself for still managing to startle you. You’d think that you would be more immune to jumpscares after spending so much time in the other world, but apparently not. 

“Scared you.” Mr. Gap speaks proudly, the language you had slowly been absorbing over your journey becoming easier and easier to decipher and remember. That was good at least, you thought. It would be far too difficult to live in a place where you couldn’t even understand what everyone was saying. 

You roll your eyes at him, speaking under your breath but loud enough so he could hear your muttering, “You’re rude, you know that?”

He stares up at you with an unimpressed expression, waiting for you to speak again. Eventually, you tell him with a frown, speaking to him in a language he understood, “You mean.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, yet he seemingly did not take any offense to your comment. Then, his gaze returns to your face, and you two simply stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Well, now what? How exactly do you explain to a creature that you were lonely when they probably couldn’t even empathize with what you were experiencing? Did you even know the word for lonely in their language, if there was one?

“I, umm…” You pause, taking a moment to try and figure out the words to say, averting your gaze to a crack in the concrete flooring of the room you had made into your makeshift home. Mr. Gap is surprisingly patient, staring up at you while your hands begin to fidget with the textured straps of the bag. You look back down at him and say, your voice is surprisingly soft, “I upset. Want talk.”

Then, almost as if on cue, he smiles and reaches a hand out of the bag, making a grabbing motion as he asks, “Give heart?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you were expecting, and now you felt like an idiot for expecting literally anything else to come out of his mouth. You frown deeply and quickly zip up the bag, disregarding the shocked expression on his face at the action, before tossing it on the floor without a second thought. You let out a groan, clawing your hands down your face while trying to ignore the stinging sensation your nails left in their wake across your skin.

At least the pain raking across your flesh was a distraction from the ache in your chest. 

You decide, once more, to take a nap. Whenever your mind was racing or the thoughts became too much to bear, you slept. Honestly, there wasn’t much else you could do here. After all, you weren’t in the mood to go around swinging at anything and everything with your crowbar, especially since you had vowed to only use it in self-defense. This world was your home now, and you didn’t want to make enemies who would, in return, only make your existence more miserable. 

You close your eyes and attempt to drift off into the world of dreams, a place that wasn’t this world nor the one you came from, yet your attention is grabbed by the feeling of something shifting under the covers. Your eyes fly open faster than light as your fist grabs the thick comforter, lifting it quickly while your other hand went to grab the crowbar you kept by your bedside. 

However, Mr. Gap’s face comes into view, and your hand pauses as soon as your fingers graze across the rusted metal of your weapon. You frown deeply and tell him with a sternness in your tone, “I told you to stop doing that – I’m going to accidentally kill you one of these days.”

“Why upset?” He asks you suddenly, and it’s a question that has your mind stopped in its tracks. You hadn’t been expecting him to come back so soon, let alone ask you a question like that. For a moment, you wonder if he was worried about you, only for the memory of the last time you asked him that question to pop into your head. 

You lay there, staring at the darkness under the covers, debating on whether or not you should tell him your true feelings. After some moment of contemplation, you decide to try and speak with him about what you have been experiencing. After all, the worst thing that would probably happen is him asking for your heart again or something. 

“I…” You start, pausing for a moment to swallow, your tongue strangely heavy in your mouth, “No home. I lonely.”

Mr. Gap’s brows furrow and he states plainly, “This home.”

Just as you thought, he didn’t understand. If anything, your statement only seemed to confuse him further. His expression was also different, one you hadn’t quite seen on him before. You had seen him shocked, smug, and displeased, but the look on his face appeared almost… frustrated? 

You begin to try and snake your way out from under the covers, feeling like going on a walk now instead of trying to take a nap. However, the room suddenly goes dark as Mr. Gap pulls you back under the sheets, covering your entire body in the surprisingly soft duvet. For a moment, you feel panic swell in your veins and you wonder if something you had said upset him to the point of wanting to kill you. However, no pain ever came. You just heard his voice state once more, “This home.”

“No, I know it’s my home now, I just…” You speak, your mind going through word after word, attempting to translate what you want to tell him in his language. It was a little unnerving, being unable to see anything in the darkness that now enveloped your body. You pushed that anxiety aside, though, telling Mr. Gap, “I… miss touch. Miss connection. This world different – lonely.” 

There’s once again no reply, and soon the feeling of another under the sheets disappears. You let out a long sigh as you remove yourself from under the covers, Mr. Gap no longer under the blanket with you. You take a moment to compose yourself before standing up from the bed and grabbing your reliable crowbar – it was walking time.

You walked and walked in circles until your legs felt ready to collapse, returning to your makeshift base after what seemed like hours. You fell face-first onto the bed, your crowbar slipping from your hand to the concrete floor with a loud clatter; you probably would have cringed at the noise if not for the exhaustion in your bones. There’s a long stretch of silence, and you feel sleep start to creep into your mind, when a simple “Hello” snaps you out of your stupor. 

You turn your head from where it was nuzzled into a pillow to look down at the bag you had tossed to the floor earlier, seeing Mr. Gap peeking up at you from inside. You wonder if you should say anything back before eventually relenting, echoing to him the same greeting. 

There’s a shuffling noise, the sound of paper being crinkled before you watch as he pulls out what appears to be a magazine, holding it out for you to take. You sit up in the bed and look down at him with a blank expression, saying with your lips pulled into a flat line, “No head. No finger. No heart–”

“Not want anything.” He replies, effectively cutting you off as he holds out the magazine closer to you. It seems as though he can read the expression of pure disbelief on your face before he clarifies, “Take paper. You have.”

Despite some reservations, you eventually do reach out and take the small book from his grasp, whispering your thanks. It’s a relatively new magazine, surprisingly, and only the edges of the glossy paper seemed crinkled. You flip through the pages, wondering what information you were supposed to be deriving from the book. After all, it didn’t seem like anything special–...

Then, a picture of two people hugging appeared. Two humans, holding each other in a tight embrace with bright and happy smiles on their faces. One was kissing the other’s cheek, and the mere sight alone caused your breath to hitch. Oh, it seemed like ages since the last time you felt the level of comfort with another like the people in the picture, and there was a part of yourself that regretted coming back. It wasn’t like you belonged in your world anymore, either… you really were a monster with nowhere to call home, weren’t you?

“Why upset?” Mr. Gap asks, his voice surprisingly gentle. You look down at him and wonder how he knew you were hurting. Then, you heard the sound of something hitting the pages of the magazine in your hand. Your gaze returns to the book below you, noticing the water droplets that had fallen down your cheeks and onto the magazine, causing the ink on the paper to bleed slightly. You quickly wipe your face yet, before you can do anything else, two arms wrap around your waist and your body is once again shrouded in the darkness under the covers as Mr. Gap pulls you under.

His body is cold to the touch, you note, yet it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Before you have the chance to speak, you hear Mr. Gap tapping the page of the magazine in your hand, asking you quietly, “You want that? Touch?”

“Do I… want a hug?” You ask him, wishing you had the ability to see in the dark. You hum and lay your head back, enjoying the softness of the pillow underneath your skull, “I want good touch.”

You close your eyes and wait, expecting Mr. Gap to ask for something in return or simply disappear… but he doesn’t, and you find your eyes flying open when you feel his arms wrap around your torso. His touch was experimental, uncertain as his palms rested against your lower back. His head is resting on your stomach and although you cannot see him, you know he is staring at your face through the darkness. 

You suddenly find yourself becoming choked up, the tears forming in your eyes as your arms instinctively wrap around him as well, holding him close to your body like one would hold a stuffed toy. Mr. Gap makes a strangled noise, yet you don’t let up on your hold. You sit up on the bed, dragging him along with you, before nuzzling your face into what you assumed was his neck. 

He’s completely frozen, his hold on you never once faltering yet never once tightening, either. A part of you wonders if you broke him or something, especially considering he had never really been the physically affectionate type. You both sit like this under the covers for a long time, and you eventually feel his body and muscles relax under your touch. 

While the ache in your chest wasn’t gone, it had definitely diminished as you both held onto each other with a tinge of desperation in both of your actions. You let out a sigh, and you feel Mr. Gap shiver as your warm breath fans against his cold skin. The dried tear stains on your cheeks made your skin feel tight, but you smiled nevertheless as you whispered to him, “Thank you. I grateful – happy.”

Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek in your palm as you slowly guide his face to yours. Oh, how you wish you could have seen his expression as you placed a kiss on his cheek, your slightly chapped lips pressing against his marred flesh. You feel him jolt, and you wonder if he’ll disappear right then and there. He doesn’t though, and instead, you feel his hands remove themselves from your hips to hold your face in his grasp. 

Instinctively, you close your eyes, and you feel the slight tremble in his fingers as he leans closer. You smile softly, finding his nervous demeanor to be quite cute considering how smug he tended to be. Then, you felt it, his lips against your cheek. 

Mr. Gap’s lips were in even worse shape than yours, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as he placed shockingly gentle kisses against the apple of your cheek. You giggle at the sweet action, the noise of your laughter egging him on as his kisses become more confident and more frequent. You do the same, placing feather-light kisses against his skin, whispering to him as you pepper his face in smooches, “Happy, happy, happy...”

[daosies]

keep your eyes

you can't help but stare at his lips. he can't help but get fed up.

wanderer ♡ gn!reader

warnings: kissing, wanderer may be ooc

notes: sigh. i miss my man.

"and where do you think you're looking?" wanderer asks, crossing his arms.

you blink, and your gaze quickly returns to the wanderer's, locking on his pupils and unraveling your soul. cornflower irises drink your reflection in greedily, even though puppets don't need to be satiated by such mortal desires. even though puppets aren't guided by thirst or hunger or love.

"what?" you reply, feigning ignorance to the shit-eating smirk on his face and the smug taps of his foot. wanderer steps towards you, the ornaments of his hat swaying with his gait.

"do you think i'm stupid? or are you stupid?" he asks, hardly containing his jeering laughs. "you've been staring at my lips."

he leans in towards you, but there are no breaths escaping his nose, no warmth emanating from his skin.

he leans in towards you, but you can hardly feel his presence, the only proof of his existence being vested within his eyes, which trace over your features wildly, trailing from the wisps of your lashes, to the bridge of your nose, and down to the curl of your lips.

when you look away, he smirks, sure, but his index finger comes up to the bottom of your chin, guiding your gaze back to him.

when wanderer approaches—no, when he perceives you—he eyes you with the intensity of a madman, the hunger of an insatiated mortal. when wanderer perceives you, he does so like a phantom, an absence that drowns you in, the desperation that comes with the unknown.

you are all that is foreign to him.

you make wanderer unlike himself, dismembering his puppet limbs and his screwed-on joints. you piece him back together, tugging at his strings and reinventing them anew, the transparent strands dyed red—oh, the color of love, the color of life and the color of blood—weaving and transfixed to your touch.

when wanderer perceives you, he perceives a heart, a rhythm, a tempo that echoes throughout the cavity of his empty chest, the sound of humanity and the timeless, estoric: thump-thump, thump-thump.

wanderer is not human. but his creator discarded him because she believed he was too human, too flawed, too selfish. but selfishness breeds love, and wanderer is not human, yes, but how can he explain the selfishness—the love—within him otherwise?

wanderer is not human. but his creator discarded him because she believed he was full of humanity, because he was full of love. his creator abandoned him, but you—oh, you—kept him like a treasure.

you reassembled him and you are, undoubtedly, all that he knows.

"tch. and there you go again," wanderer mutters, flicking your forehead. "look at me."

"i am, though?" you retort, taking a step back. wanderer's brows furrow prominently, his arrogant smirk dropping into a frown as he narrows the distance between the two of you.

"liar. do you think i am a fool?"

"yeah," you reply, grinning. "i'm always looking at you."

wanderer conjures a few hexes and curses under his breath, gaze momentarily averting from yours before reaching for the rim of his hat, tugging it down in a futile attempt to conceal his expression.

"you're ridiculous."

"you must love ridiculous people."

"oh, now you're just asking for trouble."

wanderer says nothing once your eyes drift again, tracing the features of his face and settling on the curl of his lips. he huffs.

"you want to kiss me so bad," he remarks arrogantly, tone sounding irritated. "don't you know how stupid it makes you look?"

you don't miss the way his ears bloom a violent shade of red, the way his brows furrow while he tries to suppress the adoration flourishing within his irises.

you don't miss the way wanderer steps towards you, presence known only by the thunderous beat of your heart and the way his face is barely a centimeter away from yours.

much to your chagrin, your eyes flutter shut, and a mocking laugh escapes the wanderer's lips.

"did you think i'd make it easy for you? hah! the arrogance!"

when you open your eyes, lips barely parting in an attempt to protest, wanderer's hand comes to the back of your head, pressing you towards him, the coldness of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

the shade of his hat captures you, the darkness slipping in between your faces and falling everywhere but your lips.

despite his tongue spewing fierce insults regularly, wanderer's touch is tender, marred by love and the softness of a human, the softness of which his creator loathes.

he cradles you with his hands, his lips pressing against yours, chasing after you whenever you part ways.

he's desperate. he's hungry, constantly wanting more and more, like lovers do—oh, like humans do.

when you pull away, breathless, wanderer merely smirks.

"you—" you start, but are quickly interrupted by another hungry, defiant kiss. when wanderer kisses you, his touch becomes both tender and mad, terribly desperate and terribly, terribly lovely.

"you talk too much," he mumbles, waiting for you to regain your breaths. his other palm comes up to the side of your face, the warmth from your skin beginning to permeate into his. "just..."

your gaze meets his, and wanderer falls silent, enamored by the sight.

"just what?" you ask, smiling. wanderer scoffs.

"don't make me say it." he kisses you again.

"wanderer, i was—" you manage to interrupt, only to be silenced by the narrow of his eyes and the thumb that brushes over your cheekbone.

"shut it." his words don't match his adoring tone.

wanderer thinks he could get used to this. just for good measure, however, he kisses you again.

and again.

oh, and one more time. just to be sure.

[areislol]

patting their head out of nowhere

ft— blade, gepard, dan heng, jing yuan, yanqing, luocha, welt, sampo

warning — none, just fluff! might be ooc, established relationship, gn! reader, mentions of killing, platonic for yanqing, characters in order

a/n— first hsr post omgggggg!! as i stated in the warning the characters might be a bit ooc because it's my first time writing for them so.. it's short im sorry :(

wordcount. 2.2k

blade 刃

✧ he was just crouching down when you, out of the blue, start patting his head.

✧ blade turns his head up to look at you, mans just.. staring at you with such cold eyes. watching as you pat his head, he's... ugh *cue a deep and "annoyed" sigh*

✧ "what is it now, Y/N?" he asks in an annoyed tone, and honestly, he could've just stood up or removed your hand from his head but he didn't. weird, isn't it? blade lets you continue your nonsense as he crouches there, pressing his lips into a thin line as people pass by, giggling and pointing at you two. they were probably talking about how cute you two were.. a tall, scary guy getting head pats from someone who isn't to scary looking. how adorable! ♡

✧ he watches you intensely with piercing eyes, but you know that there is a small glint of softness seeping out of his mask.

✧ blade doesn't really like pda out in the public but, a head pat? pfft- that's not even big! why would he be affected by something to small? so he doesn't care. (but he really does, because ohmygosh! it's you!! you're giving him head pats, so so adorable!)

✧ he doesn't mind anything when it comes to you.. but if somebody who's not you starts patting his head, they'd be dead on the ground already.

✧ whenever someone (like jing yuan) notices this cute interaction and give him a smirk and mouth "aww" he rolls his eyes and stares into their soul, because when you're done he may or may not try to kill them later <;33

✧ (blade tells you to not do that in public once you're done, but when you're both together in private he asks, in a very embarrassed tone, if you could give him some head pats.)

✧ he grumbles and mutters under his breath, something along the lines of "i can't believe it." when you smile and pat his head, he's trying to act all tough and act like he isn't affected by your actions but it's really hard to when heat rushes to his cheeks and a pink hue suddenly appears on his cheeks.

✧ "what? i'm red? don't be so ridiculous ...."

gepard 傑帕德

✧ he blinks at you in confusion when you stand on your tippy toes and gesture for him to come down to your level, when he does, you start to pat his head. ah, there it is. the flustered and confused gepard.

✧ "ohmygoshyou'resoadorablehowcanonebesocute!!!" literally his thoughts right now as you pat his head and gush over how soft his hair is, gepard is quite literally on cloud nine.

✧ gepard sort of.. malfunctions? his cheeks are so red and hot he thinks he may faint from your head pats. he freezes when you first place your hand on his head but within a few seconds he immediately melts in your touches and smiles up at you.

✧ gepard loves receiving pda from you. whether it be something small or not. he loves knowing the fact that everybody knows that you two are together from these simple loving acts. he allows you to continue patting his head (as if he could stop you) and you can see how he's blushing like crazy.

✧ he looks like a cute puppy boy who loves getting head pats (because he does) and his adorable red face makes your heart melt. once you're done with patting his head, he immediately grabs onto your hand and for a second he pauses before he slowly puts your hand down, he blushes and looks at you in an embarrassed way

✧ "i.. is it alright if you continue this later? when we're alone..?"

dan heng 丹恆

✧ hghfffffff are you trying to kill this man? could this interaction not be any cuter!?!?!? <- dan heng freaking out internally as you pat his head. dan chuckles softly and sighs in delight.

✧ dan LOVES it when you give him affection, in the public or not. if you hold his hands, he will blush, if you give him a peck on the cheek, he will blush, if you link arms with him, he will blush, if you- (you get the idea..)

✧ "truly, Y/N, you're so cute.." dan sighs, closing his eyes as you continued to pat and run your fingers through his hair. if he was a cat right now, he would be purring loudly. like, really loud.

✧ he doesn't care if his friends see him like this, it's adorable, is it not? if anything he'd smile happily at whoever's passing by or at his friends and mouth "im in heaven-uh!!" while pointing at you patting his head.

✧ your head pats give him some soft of comfort, it's like you're praising him, by patting his head. and he would love nothing more than you patting his head after doing something successfully or winning a duel.

✧ when your hands leave his head he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head. "don't stop, i like it." and how could you refuse? (you can't, that's the thing)

✧ so you spent like 20 or more minutes just patting his head, your hand was getting slightly tired and when he noticed how sloppy your movements were getting he let out a soft sigh and stood up, smiling down at you.

✧ "thank you for spoiling me, love. lets go get some food yeah? how about your favourite?"

jing yuan 景元

✧ he raises his brows at you in confusion and amusement. he doesn't say anything though, only staring at you with those pretty eyes and watching you pat and rub his head.

✧ slowly, his lips curve into a smirk. "dear, what are you doing? giving me head pats.. interesting.." his tone is so teasing for what reason.. jing yuan is a general, so whatever he does affects his reputation and his image, but he really doesn't care when it comes to you.

✧ like when yanqing comes running to jing yuan, looking at you patting his master's head. he's obviously thinking "what.. on earth..?" and opens his mouth to speak but jing cuts him off. "what are you here for, yanqing? im currently busy with my partner."

✧ huhu, he's such a tease, asking you why you're giving him head pats, asking if you're doing this to get his attention or something.. you can only shut him up with a chaste kiss to his lips to which he blushes at.

✧ he sighs softly and closes his eyes. taking in the calm breeze and the nice head pats you're giving, jing yuan won't really voice that he's enjoying this, but maybe his soft hums that escape his lips will tell you.

✧ but in the end when the head pat session is over, he smiles tenderly at you and leans forward to give you a quick kiss on your cheek. "i enjoyed your little head pats.. maybe you should do it more often."

✧ he gives you head pats in return as well!! it's only fair, right? once you're done with your head pats it's his turn, you're surprised at first since you didn't expect him to do that but you don't complain. his eyes soften as he sees how you're enjoying this, a faint blush on his cheeks as he continued to pat your head. you're so adorable.. it's truly a blessing to have you in his life.

✧ "it's only fair, is it not? you give me head pats and i give you them as well.."

yanqing 彥卿

✧ he looks at you in confusion as you pat his head, was this some sort of reward for finally hitting 5,000 strikes on a practice dummy? either way, he lets you continue patting his head.

✧ yanqing thinks that it'll be over soon but.. nope. you continue to pat his head and he just continues to stare at you, giving you a nervous smile when your eyes meet his. "ah.. Y/N, why..?" he stops himself from talking when you stop moving your hands, did he upset you?

✧ but when he realizes that you only stopped because you thought that it was making him uncomfortable, he immediately reassures you that he wasn't uncomfortable, only... confused.

✧ when you explain that you just wanted to give him a head pat (maybe as a reward for doing such a good job) he nods his head and speaks again. "you.. can continue if you want. i dont mind. just tell me next time, okay?"

✧ he knows that he made the right choice when he sees your eyes light up as you start to pat his head again. yanqing is slightly embarrassed when he sees that jing yuan notices what you're doing to him

✧ yan smiles awkwardly at jing and he's sweating BALLS because now the general, his master!! is seeing him in a situation that.. could make him be seen as vulnerable.

✧ he eventually stops you and apologizes, saying that he has to go do something (he really does) and that he doesn't mind if you pat his head next time, probably somewhere jing yuan doesn't frequent.

luocha 羅剎

✧ ah.. he expected you to do something like that. he doesn't really mind it, if anything he loves it! he smiles tenderly as he relaxes in your touch, sighing softly. "mm, i do enjoy this, why head pats all of the sudden?"

✧ when you explain that you just felt like it, he lets out a hum and nods his head. luocha continues doing what he was doing before, it was quite hard to concentrate, yes, but he didn't have the heart to stop you so..

✧ luocha likes receiving pda from you, mostly in private though, but as of right now you two are alone so he doesn't care what you do to him. and if you don't mind, maybe he could return the head pats (and more) as well?

✧ he actually enjoys the head pats, and he actually voiced it as well!! and when you tease him about it you notice a faint pink hue appear on his cheeks.. so cute..

✧ if you give him head pats out in public though, he might stop you if you go on for too long. but don't worry, he will allow you to do it for however long you want to once you two are home.

✧ he's so soft for you honestly, so expect head pats back. when you're done you turn away but suddenly he starts to pat your head back and you're just like ??? you're still and everything

✧ luocha chuckles softly at your reaction and smiled tenderly at you. "how cute of you, i must give you something in return, no?"

welt 瓦爾特

✧ ".... what are you doing..?"

✧ he's so confused i swear, staring at you dumbfounded and slightly annoyed when you pat his head. he lets out a huff and goes back to his activity. he could care less about what you're doing to him and doesn't mind what others think.

✧ welt is unbothered by you, allowing you to continue your head patting and you're glad that he's not that affected by your actions.

✧ welt glares at anybody who's giggling and pointing at you two. like, mind your own business.

✧ he looks like a grumpy dad and sighs sadly. "why... are you.. nevermind."

✧ you might think that he isn't enjoying it and he has to put up with you everyday, which, he does. but he is enjoying it. anything you do to him he absolutely loves and cherishes. you think he'll forget about the head pats? absolutely not, once you two go home he's asking you to massage and run your fingers through his hair after showering.

✧ "dearest, could i trouble you to do what you did to me earlier today, right now? i.. enjoyed it.."

sampo 桑博

✧ smiles like a mad man!! you're just so adorable.. how could he not?? sampo's smiling like crazy when u give him head pats <;33

✧ "oh? what's my little dove doing?" he says in a teasing tone (?? he likes teasing u hhh)

✧ his heart is beating so fast you can probably hear it if you were to lean in closer to his chest. not only that but he's B.L.U.S.H.I.N.G. face red like a tomato as you run your fingers through his hair.

✧ sampo will NEVER stop you from giving him affection (especially kisses and linking hands with you) so when you give him head pats he allows you to instead of stopping you.. and you're doing this in public too.. not that anything's wrong with that!!

✧ he pulls you in closer by your waist!! smirking as he hears you yelp from surprise. "what~ did that surprise you?"

✧ sampo could care less about the stares he gets from people/his friends, why should he be? everybody in the world should know about your relationship!

✧ please don't stop the head pats :(( he's literally begging you to not stop because its just so comforting to him ♡ if you do stop he won't pressure you to continue but he'll probably pout for a good 20 minutes before he finally smiles again when you kiss his cheek.

✧ he loves the head pats. so he hopes that you will continue giving him head pats in the future <;33

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy &lt;3

taglist 🏷️ : none so far

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: first hsr post!!! also i got my glasses today and uhm i kinda hate it but yk what, my eyesight is so much better so...

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

[estherscorner]

♧ Maybe in this life, or the next.

♡ Pairings; Scaramouche/Wanderer x GN!Reader || ROMANCE

◇ Summary; Loving you was easy, but keeping you was the challenge. What happens if your fate remained unchanged during your next life?

♤ Warnings; Angst/No comfort, Reader gets reincarnated, You two genuinely loved eachother but were never meant to be together, OOC scara, vulnerable scara, soft scara, shitty writing lmao, major character death.

Let me know if I miss any!

(NOT EDITED!) [SHORT STORY]

After everything he went through for centuries, Scaramouche made a silent vow to himself that he will never get attached to mortals.

They had a short lifespan, often making the most out of it by celebrating yearly. For those unfortunate, they pass away at a young age. The reason behind it consisted of their death being caused by their own kind or a cruel fate they were destined to meet. And those who were considered lucky and spared would surpass a century of age.

So for an immortal like him, this must be the version of his divine punishment. The cruel fate that he was always destined to meet. The curse of immortality and mortality.

You. You were his curse. The one he came to adore. The one who's fate always ends so abruptly.

The one who was meant to be.

You were the one he was destined to be with, or so he believed. He wasn't a fan of romance at all, and he didn't believe in what humans called “soulmates”. But if he were to have one, it was definitely you. Almost every life you had, he had fallen for you over and over again.

And it was his curse.

He met you when he still went by Kunikuzushi. The naive puppet, exploring the world of Inazuma and learning basic survival all by his own. The one who had been abandoned by their creator, and much more recently, by a friend.

And you were just an Inazuman villager that was nearing your death. One who took pity on him as he approached you with an innocent smile.

The one who helped him learn how to love.

You taught him basic human knowledge, what they need for survival and what not. You never informed him that humans can contract diseases. Hiding the fact that you were nearing your death due to your sickness.

You didn't want to break his heart. As you were aware of how he held deep affection towards you.

When he met a small boy that was just like him and you, you made sure to stick to his side. Monitoring the boy's health in secret while helping him learn how to take care of others- but also trying your best to learn his nature. To let him learn and create an identity for himself.

You helped him create a name and identity. And you had him learn human emotions.

Which was a small mistake on your part.

You wanted to love him back, to reciprocate his feelings and help him with exploring the world. But you were powerless. You who slowly succumbed to your illness. Never waking up as you laid still beside him.

He was deeply hurt. He vividly remembered the tears he spilled for you. Crying and begging for you to stop joking with him. Thinking you were playing a cruel prank on him once more.

He wished that he was in tears because of a harsh prank, instead of weeping right over your corpse.

Your being held a huge significance to him. It it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have easily learned how humans worked.

You left an imprint on his nonexistent heart.

You, along with the boy, was his final betrayal that made him "understand". The way you made him feel, it made him doubt you. Made him feel like your love towards him was just a lie to bait him. To trick him into succumbing to his worthless emotions.

Like how you succumbed to your illness.

The second time he saw you was when he was recently promoted as a harbinger. Going by the codename “The Balladeer”. You were one of his subordinates.

He couldn’t believe his eyes, and he couldn't deny how his heart squeezed the moment he made eye contact with you.

He swore to scrub away every last bit of human emotion within him. But he already broke the promise to himself when he decided to talk to you. The harbinger that was known and feared by everyone for his cruel words was unusually quiet when it came to you. It confused you to no end but you were content with it.

It must've been a coincidence, right? The fact you were exactly similar to someone he used to love. Down to your philosophy- you were exactly like them. Only with a different name and background this time.

It was eerie how it was as if you got reincarnated. He couldn’t shake off the thought and idea of it. Was this the celestial gods above finally apologising for mistreating him? For making mad at the humans and gods?

Or was this another trap. That you were trying to lure him back into being exactly who he once was?

Weak, vulnerable, stupid. He was always like that with you.

You were much stronger this time. Much more strong willed. If he could turn you into an immortal, that would be perfect. Maybe this time you wouldn’t be unfortunate enough to succumb to a cruel fate.

He let his guard down just for you. Looking at you so lovingly despite how his harsh words seemed to contrast his gaze. How he'd check up on you after every mission. You were strong. He is strong. This felt like the correct time. Like the stars above were aligning just for him.

Maybe just this once, You would have all the time in the world with him.

And deep within him, he wished he should've just gone with his idea of turning you into one of the doctor's experiment. Making you immortal.

There your lifeless form laid on the grass. The green patch below you turned into crimson red as your eyes were back to being dull. A feeling he hadn't felt in years crept right back. A feeling he long forgot about.

Dread.

It was merely a mission that went wrong. You were his right-hand commander. The one he always trusted. He knew your beliefs, he learned the world whilst continuing to believe in your philosophy. No matter how stupid it sounded to him.

But maybe it was his mistake for trusting you to begin with.

He couldn't even mourn. This was his punishment for breaking the promise he swore to himself all those years prior. The promise he broke as soon as he decided to fall in love with you again.

This was a dark reminder that you were one of his betrayal, and nothing would ever change that.

Does he even have the right to cry? He should have expected the worst. Yet he fell for your trap and found himself vulnerable again. A state that was supposed to be erased from his very being.

He hated you. Hated how you toyed with his feelings.

The third and final time he saw you was after he erased his very existence. Becoming a failed attempt of a God and gaining an anemo vision after getting his memories back with the help of Nahida.

And those memories included you.

He came to terms with himself. Removing his past identity.

Removing the identity you helped him create.

He went by the name Wanderer. And even after all these years, he couldn't help but feel bitter towards you.

He hated how you were so significant to his being. How you could easily melt away his ice cold wall he so delicately placed around his heart to keep everyone out.

And how you always seemed to find your way to him again. Coming right back into his life.

You weren't a villager who was ill, you weren't someone who's job always risked themselves and was in constant danger.

You were a traveler with a vision. Exploring cities and landscapes you’ve heard stories of. Loving the new views and meeting new people.

But as if to mock him, you were still exact one he had fallen for.

You were the same old you, The one he fell in love with all those centuries ago. The one he stupidly got vulnerable with.

And this time, You were the first to approach him.

You were more open in this life, always chattering and bothering him despite the fact he'd try to push you away or shut you off. His cruel words didn't even faze you. This time, it was you clinging onto him.

Following him around, Buying him food, talking to him about your commissions. You were the one who constantly pestered him.

And he was still the same idiot that believed in you. Even after claiming he hated you.

How could he even get himself to hate you?

Old habits always die hard.

But he promised. Thuis time, he will learn how to love you in time. This time, he wouldn't wait until you die in his arms. He'll protect you from your fate.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Wanderer?”

You asked, laying down on the patch of grass right next to him. He leaned onto the wooden bark behind him. Closing his eyes as he hummed. How ironic.

The wind blew stronger.

“Only idiots believe in those.”

He bluntly said. Eyes opening to gaze down at you, arms under the back of your head as you stared up at the clouds right up at the blue sky. Admiring the view despite there wasn't much going on.

He never truly understood how mortals seemed to cherish even the smallest things.

“Does that make me an idiot, then?”

You asked. Chuckling as he raised a brow at you. You closed your eyes taking in a deep breath. Moments like these are what you cherish the most. Relaxing and having fun with the ones you love.

“You were always an idiot.”

He scoffed at you. Feigning annoyance and hurt. Sitting up to his level and slapping his shoulder, sulking. You puffed your cheeks up. Not saying another word as you pout at his bluntness.

He knew it all too well. You were always trying your best to make him smile.

And you never failed to do so.

“What? Am I wrong?”

He said sarcastically, smiling at you as you just rolled your eyes at him. Scoffing at his words. He watched as you laid on your back again. Arms on your stomach this time, yawning.

“Life is really scary. But I feel like being alone is scarier.”

you said, trailing off as you glanced back at him. Eyes locking with his sharp ones. You gave him a smile. A simple and soft smile.

It was contagious. He always loved seeing that etched on your lips.

“That's why I'm glad I have you.”

You followed up. He gagged and rolled his eyes at your cheesiness. You didn’t even know why you're saying all these words.

But maybe it's because you just wanted to tell him how he truly meant to you.

“You're so cheesy, It's disgusting."

He said. Tone blunt as he placed his large hat on your face to block your view. You didn't fail to notice how his cheeks seemed to turn a hue of red despite the fact you both were under the shade.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction.

“I'm not being cheesy! I just wanted to tell you that you mean a lot to me! We rarely have heart to hearts.”

You said. Removing his hat that he placed on your face and placing it on your stomach. Arms around the large accessory as you looked up at him again.

His elbow was on his knee, hand on his chin as he stared down at you with softened expression.

“I love you, I truly do.”

Despite the fact you loved him for centuries on end in your past lives, he never got to hear you say those words in person.

Most of the time, he could see it through your expression and your shared silence.

Maybe the problem was with your fate. Alwats ending so abruptly back then. But, he was happy that he got to hear those words. Even if it were just mere sentences. Even if it took him a lifetime.

“..Yeah.”

He couldn't bring himself to say it back. He never could. He wasn't Kunikuzushi anymore. But with your hum, it was like a confirmation that you knew he loved you back.

He wished he could tell you how much he truly loved you. But for now, he wanted to keep the comfortable silence.

There was a small glimmer of hope that there was finally some progress with your fate, even if it took him centuries, he will wait until you and him finally got the happy ending he wanted.

The happy ending you both deserved.

But he wonders if he could act fast and beat destiny, before it could take you away again.

He held your hand. Fingers intertwined as droplets of tears spilled onto the cold skin below him.

Your eyes were sickeningly dull. And he was all to familiar with how it looks.

Your vision in his other hand, slowly turning a shade of grey before completely becoming a dull colorless one. Similar to those visions without an owner.

As he held your hand. He truly wondered how many times he will have to be tormented like this.

And if he was truly guaranteed to meet you in your next life.

(A/N); "I lowkey don't like this one since I feel like I can do better! But it's fine, I'm very new to writing anyways. I also can't feel the angst ughh :("

♤ Property of Esther ♤

[xo-cod]

a/n: if it doesn't make sense my bad. i'm not rlly good at writing smut LOL but smut with simon :") pls ignore any mistakes, i know it's ooc 🫣 feel free to request with any of the 141 + konig :") <33

mdni!! 18+

cw: cockwarming, dry humping, p in v, eating out ☠

simon ghost riley ♡ who loves to wake you up by eating you out. he can't help himself when he sees your sweet face on the brink of waking up. he sneaks down the sheets, settling between your thighs. his cheeks are already pink, eyes blown with desire while he gingerly moves your panties to the side. he's too desperate to pull them all the way back.

his tongue licks a long strip, shivering in delight as he licks you again. and then he's sucking on your clit so eagerly like a man starved, his own hips grinding into the mattress as he groans into your wet cunt. his hands grab your thighs closer around his face while he continues to lick and suck you. your hand pushing his head deeper into your aching core is all he needs before he holds your legs higher.

his tongue worked you so deliciously bringing you closer, swirling around your bud. he pulls away for a few seconds, sucking the sensitive flesh so lightly and perfectly this time. the heat unravelling on your lower abdomen, the familiar waves of pleasure hitting you. your legs shake and tremble as the orgasm comes slamming down on you. resulting in your hips lifted off the bed and releasing all in his mouth. the mere force of it leaves you panting and breathing deeply while he lightly hums, lapping at your essence. making sure he got every last drop before finally he releases you from his mouth with a soft chuckle and peeks his head back up from the blanket

"g'morning my love"

simon ghost riley ♡ the only man that can have you between the line of pleasure of pain. when you're so overstimulated, tears running down your cheeks at yet another orgasm he's trying to coax your body into having when your nails are clawing into his back, muffled whines in his chest as he continues to angle his hips in deeper. he feignes sympathy, kissing your neck as he shushes your pretty sounds. it's not his fault you just feel so good around his aching cock, you wanna be his little plaything don't you?

so he brings you into a mating press, groaning as the new position allows him to thrust in a little more deeper. his hips are sloppy, his breaths coming out in short burst while he brings the two of you closer to edge of pleasure. you're not sure what you're feeling, everything is swimming in your head and yet he's never felt so good. he coos in amusement, kissing your lips as he holds your waist down while your legs are shaking around him

"c'mon lovie, doing so good for me. just one more for me, yeah? fuck-, such a good girl"

simon ghost riley ♡ who got jealous one night when you were both out having a nice dinner. he saw just how flirty the waiter was and even if you didn't reciprocate any energy back, he still felt the need to make you as his. so he took you by hand and to the nearest bathroom to pound his frustrations into your eager cunt.

he's not usually one to simply have his way with you whenever but tonight was different. every thrust, every spank, all of it hit so different especially when you know the reason why. your hands are clutching the sink as he holds your hips higher, practically growling in your neck when he can feel you tighten.

you're biting your tongue to stop any whimper come out when his every thrust feels like your eyes are going to roll back into your head everytime he hits that special spot within you. he doesn't grant you any mercy, pounding deeper everytime you move. and when you're squirming underneath him, he's already using his knee to separate your legs even more so he can penetrate you deeper

"c'mon let them hear how pretty you sound. let that waiter know exactly who you belong to"

simon ghost riley ♡ who came back from deployment a few days earlier than he thought, so incredibly desperate for you. it'd been too many days, he was going simply stir crazy without your touch. and he practically moaned when he saw you in the blankets, a soft look on your face as you hold him close.

he's so needy tonight, he doesn't even make it out of his boxers as he eagerly bucks into you. soft moans falling from his swollen lips, his hands clenched around you tightly while he's singing your praises.

he was just dry humping you, the only sounds were his soft whines as he came closer to his relief. you opened your legs a little more to help aid him and he could've fallen apart then and there, babbling at how good you feel when his breath hitched. he's close, his arms wrapped around your waist while his face is buried into your neck as his hips continue to rock against yours desperately.

he whimpers when he slowly begins to stop his pants soiled with his release. his breathing is erratic as he mumbles out his apology, still holding your close.

and finally simon ghost riley ♡ who cockwarms you early in the morning, muffling his whines into your neck because you feel so tight and good around him. he resists the urge to eagerly buck his hips into you, not wanting to ruin the moment but you feel so good he can't hold it back.

he loves the closeness the both of you have, his arms encasing you between his warm body as he pushes slowly into you. he stretches you over his cock, mindful not to go too fast for you this early in the morning. you look like an angel under him, he can't help but press a few tender kisses to your face in pure adoration.

there's no rush, the morning is quiet and calm. the sun barely rising over the horizon. he's too sleepy to go any faster, his hips going at a leisurely pace in and out of your walls. he can feel your muscles clenching around him, indicating just how near your climax is. but he doesn't stop even when you've come, still moving his hips into you enjoying how you felt around him.

"t-that's it baby, easy easy-- fuck so good f'me-"

[bau-drabbles]

a/n: if it doesn't make sense my bad. i'm not rlly good at writing smut LOL. but smut with hotch :") pls ignore any mistakes, i know it's ooc 😩🤲

mdni!! 18+

aaron hotchner ♡ who loves to wake you up by eating you out. he can't help himself when he sees you're sweet face on the brink of waking up. he sneaks down the sheets, settling between your thighs. his cheeks are already pink, eyes blown with desire while he gingerly moves your panties to the side. he's too desperate to pull them all the way back.

his tongue licks a long strip, shivering in delight as he licks you again. and then he's sucking on your clit so eagerly like a man starved, his own hips grinding into the mattress as he groans into your wet cunt. his hands grab your thighs closer around his face while he continues to lick and suck you. your hand pushing his head deeper into your aching core is all he needs before he holds your legs higher. his tongue worked you so deliciously bringing you closer, swirling around your bud.

he pulls away for a few seconds, sucking the sensitive flesh so lightly and perfectly this time. the heat unravelling on your lower abdomen, the familiar waves of pleasure hitting you. your legs shake and tremble as the orgasm comes slamming down on you. resulting in your hips lifted off the bed and releasing all in his mouth. the mere force of it leaves you panting and breathing deeply while he lightly hums, lapping at your essence. making sure he got every last drop before finally he releases you from his mouth with a soft chuckle and peeks his head back up from the blanket

"g'morning my love"

aaron hotchner ♡ the only man that can have you between the line of pleasure of pain. when you're so overstimulated, tears running down your cheeks at yet another orgasm he's trying to coax your body into having when your nails are clawing into his back, muffled whines in his chest as he continues to angle his hips in deeper. he feignes sympathy, kissing your neck as he shushes your pretty sounds. it's not his fault you just feel so good around his aching cock, you wanna be his little plaything don't you?

he brings you into a mating press, groaning as the new position allows him to thrust in a little more deeper. his hips are sloppy, his breaths coming out in short burst while he brings the two of you closer to edge of pleasure. you're not sure what you're feeling, everything is swimming in your head and yet he's never felt so good. he coos in amusement, kissing your lips as he holds your waist down while your legs are shaking around him

"c'mon honey, doing so good for me. just one more for me? fuck, such a good girl"

aaron hotchner ♡ who got jealous one night when you were both out having a nice dinner. he saw just how flirty the waiter was and even if you didn't reciptste any energy back, he still felt the need to make you as his. so he took you by hand and to the nearest bathroom to pound his frustrations into your eager cunt. he's not usually one to simply have his way with you whenever but tonight was different.

every thrust, every spank, all of it hit so different especially when you know the reason why. your hands are clutching the sink as he holds your hips higher, practically growling in your neck when he can feel you tighten. you're biting your tongue to stop any whimper come out when his every thrust feels like your eyes are going to roll back into your head everytime he hits that special spot within you. he doesn't grant you any mercy, pounding deeper everytime you move. and when you're squirming underneath him, he's already using his knee to separate your legs even more so he can penetrate you a lot deeper

"let them hear how pretty you sound. let that waiter know exactly who you belong to"

aaron hotchner ♡ who came back from a long case, so incredibly desperate for you. it'd been too many days, he was going simply stir crazy without your touch. and he practically moaned when he saw you in the blankets, a soft look on your face as you hold him close. he's so needy tonight, he doesn't even make it out of his boxers as he eagerly bucks into you.

soft moans falling from his swollen lips, his hands clenched around you tightly while he's singing your praises. he was just dry humping you, the only sounds were his soft whines as he came closer to his relief. you opened your legs a little more to help aid him and he could've fallen apart then and there, babbling at how good you feel when his breath hitched. he's close, his arms wrapped around your waist while his face is buried into your neck as his hips continue to rock against yours desperately. he whimpers when he slowly begins to stop his pants soiled with his release. his breathing is erratic as he mumbles out his apology, still holding your close.

aaron hotchner ♡ who cockwarms you early in the morning, muffling his whines into your neck because you feel so tight and good around him. he resists the urge to eagerly buck his hips into you, not wanting to ruin the moment but you feel so good he can't hold it back. he loves the closeness the both of you have, his arms encasing you between his warm body as he pushes slowly into you. he stretches you over his cock, mindful not to go too fast for you this early in the morning. you look like an angel under him, he can't help but press a few tender kisses to your face in pure adoration.

there's no rush, the morning is quiet and calm. the sun barely rising over the horizon. he's too sleepy to go any faster, his hips going at a leisurely pace in and out of your walls. he can feel your muscles clenching around him, indicating just how near your climax is. but he doesn't stop even when you've come, still moving his hips into you enjoying how you felt around him.

"t-that's it princess, easy easy-- so good for me-"

[suosgirl]

How do you think the reader’s relationship with Suo both meeting while she’s out to get food for her and her sister. She’s genuinely kind and caring overall like Tanjiro from kny. How do you think they’ll get together? She’s helpful and won’t hesitate to protect those in need especially her younger siblings. She’s got a strong sense of smell acknowledging how others feel. Ty!

A To-Go Order (& Missing Utensils) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 1233

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. very brief mentions of Haruka Sakura and Akihiko Nirei (when are they not, let's be so honest)

୨ৎ Song Inspiration: Hypotheticals by Lake Street Drive

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, fluff, f!reader, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), swearing – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Ahh ty for the request my dearest anon! I am going to be so honest – I have never watched Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba (and I’m so embarrassed bc I just saw the latest like animated arc and it looks so good) BUT that doesn’t mean I’m not familiar with the character! I hope I do your request justice ahhhh!!! And I'm so sorry this took so long ahhhh!! Also, if I dip down into my eldest sister trauma well ... it makes it more genuine, right? ♡

Because – and this is a stretch, he knows this – but what if you didn’t have any utensils at home? How would whoever you were on the phone with be able to enjoy this delightful meal without said fork and spoon and chopsticks? And he doesn’t want to imagine what devastation and sadness look like on a lovely face like yours.

Suo hears you first before he sees you.

Maybe it’s the tone of your voice or the irritated tap of your foot on the floor, but somehow, someway you’ve got him intrigued within just a couple minutes of being in your presence.

You’re on the phone with your sister, lightly scolding her for being so reckless. She was a wild card, that girl, and when she’d heard about an easy and trendy way to cut her bangs from her friends, well, she’d only be able to confirm that it’s true if she tried it, right?

Wrong – so fucking wrong.

It was not easy, and it didn’t look trendy – and now it was you paying the price for it.

She’s sobbing so loud into your ear that you have to turn your volume down to the lowest it can go, but even that’s not enough, and at some point, you can’t help it – you blow up.

She’s no stranger to your lectures (she’s on the receiving end more often than not), but you’d told her not to do it. You’d told her that she’d hate having bangs. You’d told her to sit on the idea for a couple of days before committing to it.

But what does she do? What any good sister would do! Absolutely ignore you! Even though deep down she probably knew you were right!

You sigh, fingers massaging your temple as you shut your eyes for a quick fix of relief.

“... I’ll be home in a bit, okay? It’s not the end of the world, I promise. Now – what do you want from that Monjayaki place that you like so much?”

Suo watches the way that you smile into the phone, no doubt at the response of whoever you’re speaking to, but the smile on your lips is so warm and so fond that he gets just a bit distracted.

A small laugh leaves your lips as you repeat your sister’s order, and you end the call with, “Okay, got it. No more crying, ‘kay? I love you, and I’ll see you in a bit. Also … please put the scissors down – I’ll fix it when I get home.”

He watches the way you order, politely and respectfully, before taking a seat at the table right across from him, Sakura, Nirei, Kiryu, and Tsugeura.

He watches the way you cross your legs and take in the surroundings of the restaurant as you wait, before making eye contact with him.

He sends a small, practiced smile your way before turning his attention back to his friends.

Internally, though, Suo is just the slightest ashamed because he hadn’t meant to stare at you for so long. But, as long as you didn’t know – it was fine, right?

From his peripheral, he can see the way that you continue to stare at him in confusion before ultimately looking away, and he lets out the tiniest sigh of relief.

That … that was a close one.

He tries, truly, but he just can’t. 

He just can’t stop glancing over at you. You’d piqued his interest and he couldn’t understand why.

The cashier tells you it’ll just be a couple more minutes, but you’re quickly shaking your head at them with a smile and telling them not to worry and to take their time.

And Suo can't stop wondering – because how can someone like you effortlessly exude such an air of compassion and love?

As an afterthought, Suo wonders what it would be like to be on the receiving end of it.

Your order is completed much too fast for his liking because now you’re standing up and thanking them as you grab the bag and head for the exit, and Suo feels conflicted because he’s never ever been so curious about a stranger like this before and – 

You turn around as you slip out the door, intent on getting one last glance at him before you leave, but you aren’t expecting Suo to also be looking at you.

The last thing he sees is your mouth dropping in surprise and your eyes widening before the door closes – and then it’s over.

Whatever was happening between the two of you is over.

And – Suo shouldn’t feel any sort of loss from this but he does.

He ponders, briefly, if he’s missed out on something wonderful.

But he’s distracted, too distracted, apparently, to hear Sakura ask, “Who’re ya lookin’ at?”

He’s brought back to his surroundings by the soft nudge of Nirei’s shoulder, and he blinks.

“Ah, sorry Sakura-kun. Just in my thoughts, that’s all.”

Suo’s tone is friendly but firm, leaving no room for discussion.

He’d never see you again, probably, so he let that strange feeling of regret settle somewhere deep and hidden in his conscience.

He’ll get over it, he’s sure, but then he hears the cashier mutter under their breath, “Oh… I think I forgot to add utensils in there…”

Suo never lets his heart lead. Never. In fact, he can’t remember the last time that he did.

So, he’s not too sure what’s leading him now to politely excuse himself from the table or to offer the cashier his aid in delivering the utensils to you.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t – there’s no reason to. He doesn’t work here, he doesn’t know you, but if there’s one thing Suo’s good at, it’s reading people.

And he can’t imagine how disappointed you’ll be when you get home, only to find out that they’ve forgotten to pack your utensils.

Because – and this is a stretch, he knows this – but what if you didn’t have any utensils at home? How would whoever you were on the phone with be able to enjoy this delightful meal without said fork and spoon and chopsticks?

And he doesn’t want to imagine what devastation and sadness look like on a lovely face like yours.

But when he goes to open the door – 

You’re standing right outside, hand outstretched to grab the handle and a startled look on your face.

He glances down at your hand while you glance at his – and you note the neatly wrapped-up utensils in his hand.

It’s as if time stops for just a moment as you both stand there in shock – and when your eyes meet… well, it just feels right.

“Oh I –”

“Sorry, I –”

You accidentally cut him off, and it’s awkward and uncoordinated and cute.

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, you let out a breathless, airy laugh as you look away.

“Would you like to go first?” Suo teases, and your mouth drops open just a tiny bit at his tone.

Because who was this guy? Who’d been staring holes into your head? And who’d caught your eye once more before you left?

“I… Sorry, um, I just… Do I know you? Because you were looking at me an awful lot earlier and I don’t want to be rude,” you explain, albeit a bit flustered.

Suo blinks.

He wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt.

Being the eldest sister does things to you - like being more capable of confrontation.

“Oh. You’re not here to get your utensils?”

“Hm? Why … oh, did they not put it in here? That’s fine – I’ve got some at home.”

Suo blinks again.

You blink too.

Briefly, you wonder if the utensils in his hand are for you.

“... actually, I lied. I don’t have any at home – like, at all. Would it be possible to get some?”

[reverseexorcist]

♡ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♡

You couldn't not give me Carmilla fucking Carmine and expect me not to go feral over her-

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !F!Reader

➲ Romantic ☒, Platonic ☐

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 1,479 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, these are kind've all over the place, Carmilla might be a tad OOC since this is my first time writing her

➲ There are so many different ways this relationship could possibly start. The mind boggles trying to think of all of them. Just think of all the potential shenanigans that could occur and have fun with that

➲ But lemme just say before anything - This woman is fiercely protective over you. Not in the cutesy, clingy kind've obsessive way, but the silently scary scary-dog privilege kind've partner. The epitome of 'excuse me sir, they asked for no pickles', and, because I love this trope, you are the only person (besides her daughters) that she will ever fully be soft for.

➲ Insert 🥺 right here

➲ Just, get you a woman who looks at you the way Carmilla looks at her wife. That's all I can say

➲ The soft moments in the morning when you can just lay in bed and watch her get ready. Pulling her hair up into her signature, gravity defying buns(?) and delicately slip on and twine her angelic steel shoes. The minutes of her fingers expertly working away in a comfortable silence as you just lay under the comfort of your warm blankets? Those are the moments right there 👌

➲ Probably not one for physical affection, at least not in public. Definitely not in public. Her reputation alone would probably put you in danger, which is, y'know, not good, so no hand-holding in public

➲ (Honestly, one part of her probably prefers not to be seen with you in public for that exact reason. The other part wants to keep you in her line of sight at all times because at least then she can personally keep you safe)

➲ All of that being said, can't deny she'd probably give top tier hugs. Proper bear hugs because this woman is tall and strong and would undeniably make you feel safe whenever you're in her arms. Depending on how tall or short you are, she could also probably pick you up if you really wanted 👉👈

➲ (She could 100% pick you up, and probably with one hand as well)

➲ Gives the most tender of little kisses. Small pecks on the cheeks and forehead whenever she's tired from work, her larger fingers gently grazing the sides of your head as her fluffy hair tickles your face

➲ And the adorable little pet names she whispers to you! Maybe you're just passing by each other in an almost empty street or just relaxing at home together, but she'll always try and take the chance to whisper something like 'mi Vida', 'mi Corazón' or 'mi Reina' just loud enough for the two of you to hear

➲ Let's be real, this woman is really goddamn tall, so you're probably shorter than her and she absolutely loves it and would absolutely tell this to your face just to fluster you. What she loves even more is the way you'd have to reach up on your tippy toes with her leaning down to meet you halfway just to have you playfully kiss her on the tip of her nose or her chin

➲ Maybe, very rarely, if she's feeling extra sentimental, she'd love it if you sat on her lap while she works in her home office, just so she can have your comfort and warmth nearby. More often than not this scenario would end up with you falling asleep in her lap and her carrying you back to bed with the smallest of smiles on her face

➲ If she could really help it, she'd prefer to keep you as far away from her work as possible. As much as she would love to have you in the office, maybe helping her with paperwork or something similar so she could have you at within her reach at all times of the day, arms dealing is a dangerous job. At least her daughter's have each other's backs' when they're out doing business, but you'd probably have to make it on your own or with one of her other employees and that's a big no no in her eyes

➲ Also, speaking of her daughters, your relationship with them would vary wildly depending on when you met them

➲ If you started dating Carmilla when Clara and Odette were rather young, they'd probably cling on to you like a second mother figure. In some cases, they might've even preferred you over Carmilla for the sole fact that their toddler puppy eyes work on you better than their biological mother

➲ Your dynamic would probably just be the three of you racing to see who could give Carmilla a hug first after she gets home from work

➲ (Though, this only works if Carmilla is hell-born seeing as sinner's can't have children)

➲ If you started dating Carmilla when they were older though, there might be a bit of a tense air when you first meet. Carmilla's protectiveness isn't just one way - Her daughters absolutely adore her, and although they definitely couldn't protect her physically, they'd do their damn best to protect her emotionally

➲ They'd warm up to you after some time though, seeing you do truly love their mother with your whole heart. You'd never be a parent to them, barely even a step-parent, but they'd respect you and care for you like family nonetheless because you make their mother happy

➲ Either way, her heart melts seeing the three of you getting alone, and she 100% has a family picture she keeps on her desk for her eyes only

➲ Sometimes she just waits until you fall asleep so she can cradle your head in her heads oh so carefully. She just sort've stares at you, her eyes glowing in the dark with her wild mane of hair spilling out behind her, and she just traces all the intricate details of your face with her eyes

➲ And then she just sort've hugs you closer to her, tugging the blankets a little tighter around the two of you as she presses the littlest of kisses to your forehead before relaxing into the pillows

➲ But just imagine Carmilla with a wife who died so much later after her. Just this tall, scary and proper woman that strikes fear into the hearts of millions with her little gremlin wife who keep talking about shit like reddit that the other sinners just don't understand (not even Carmilla herself, but she finds your antics somewhat entertaining, at least when she doesn't have to act as your self preservation instincts and keep you safe)

➲ Extermination is your least favourite day for multiple reasons

➲ The first being, well, the exorcists descending form heaven to brutally murder sinners left and right, but also because Carmilla changes around this time

➲ It's understandable, especially with what happened in one of the previous exterminations when she and her daughters got caught, but it still scares you to see you usually cool, calm and loving wife turn into a robot who's only goal is to get you and her daughters to a safehouse to wait out the terror outside

➲ Doesn't mean you're not grateful, though. You can look past all of that because you know she's just doing it to keep you safe, and in the end you'd rather be safe and living with your family rather than dead on the end of an exorcist's spear

➲ You probably also have a good relationship with the other overlords, despite never having gone to a meeting

➲ (It's because of this you've never met Velvette or the other Vee's, and if Carmilla has a say, you never will)

➲ Rosie, being the social butterfly she is, loves to talk gossip with you every chance she gets. Zestial likes to join in on your little sessions, not saying anything but bringing tea for everyone to drink and enjoy. Clara also likes to join in sometimes, but her sister would much rather sit with her mother and just watch the chaos unfold in front of them

➲ Almost certainly has caught you trying on her shoes when she's not looking. A part of her is annoyed because she'd rather not have you involved in anything to do with her work, but the innocent look you give her makes her rethink her annoyance in the moment

➲ She'd later found out Clara helped you because you also wanted to try and walk around on pointe like the rest of the family. No idea why you skipped straight to trying the angelic weapon shoes, but Carmilla does offer to help you later

➲ Overall, great wife and I'd give her a 9/10. One point deducted probably because she'd be a tad too overprotective, but everything else about her is great; From her bear hugs to those little moments the two of you share

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[yan-lorkai]

could you do a Jack drabble where the reader loves just wolf form because they grew up with very large white dogs, that are similar to wolves? like they roughhouse with him in his wolf form how they did with their dogs?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Ok, this has been sitting for a while on my drafts but it's because I have never written for Jack before and didn't know if he is too ooc here or not. Hopefully not. I hope you enjoy, darling!

Jack has always been very observant. He could always know what passed though someone's head just as he knew you loved him. Though not in the way he wanted. You loved his wolf form, always kissing his head and snout and giggling to yourself whenever you could pet the spot behind his ears and roughhouse with him.

Love is love and Jack takes any love he can get from you. But he really wished for you to love his human form too. For now, while you seem fascinated by him, he is content being caressed snd fussed over. He likes to watch your eyes lighting up when you see him. He has all the proof right in front of him but he can't help but ask you about it. He loves hearing your voice.

"You really love dogs, don't you?" The question came after he return to his human form, a glint of sweat dropping from his forehead. You two have been playing around the woods for a while now but he couldn't maintain that form for long.

Jack watches as you pause and a myriad of memories fly through your eyes as you remember all the dogs you had back home, a flicker of longing crossing your face before you nod slowly and grace him with a little smile. And his heart sinks a little, but he hides it well behind his playful demeanor.

"Yeah, I do," You reply with a warm smile, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt so to hide what you felt. "I've always had a soft spot for dogs. They're so loyal and loving."

Jack's ears twitch at your words, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Wolfs are different, more stronger and bigger than dogs but they are almost the same. Does that mean you view him the same way? As someone loyal and loveable? He want to ask you so bad. You almost laugh at how his ears are twichting without knowing how much he is feeling right now.

"I can tell," He says lightly, taking a seat beside you. "I love it when you scratch behind my ears. Feels... good."

You chuckle at his tone. "Want me to scratch your ears right now?"

He do. Of course, he do. He wants you to lavish him with all your attention and love. But as you do, Jack can't help but wonder if there will ever come a time when you'll love him not just as a wolf, but as a man.

And he answered. "Yes."

As if was ever going to deny you this. You may not love him as he wants but he have everything he want. Your headpats, your little cooing voice, your shiny eyes and you cuddling into his side. For now, the wolf is satisfied with what the has. He tilted his head to your height, sighing when your warm hand made contact with his ears, so sofly, slowly. He looked at you, feeling his heart beating with so many mixed feelings.

"You're so cute when you're like that." You say, laughing a little while you got closer to him to continue playing with his soft ears. Jack could feel the weight of your words, his tail wagging behind him. You were going to be the end of him. "Thank for this... Letting me pet your ears and cuddle your wolf form. Don't you think it's a little strange?"

"It's not, don't worry." He was quick to add, desperate to not lose this. And you laughed even more.

"As you say, wolfie."

[kaixserzz]

The Fox, the Crow, and the Bunny.

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore and Gn!Child!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 2.4k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | JLM Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

something sweet. dedicated to @idyllic-affections thanks for writing my kaveh rq n this series is inspired by ur acc.. realized i strayed from the real purpose of this fic and made it too long, so just think of it as a 2 in 1 special lol,, (also hi sorry for using dottore he's like my muse and i love writing him) also i hope yall get the meaning of this shit lmao (ref to the scara quest tale)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: strictly platonic/familial, reader is 8 years old, basic dottore warnings, mentions of death, dissecting animals and injuries, implied dottolone (barely), a little ooc but it's canon to me

Dottore's office was once a sacred chamber inside the Fatui headquarters.

While not relatively as pristine as his laboratory, amidst the chaos, there was order. Everything was in its designated place, even though his desk was a nightmare to whoever laid eyes on it (spilled coffee too busy to clean, now dried onto the wood of his table, piles, and piles of documents and papers stacked haphazardly on one another, a disarray of pens and pencils occupying every available niche, and vials filled with who-knows-what dangerously teetering on the edge).

Hazards lurked at every turn within his office, presenting a far-from-presentable façade that seemingly clashed with his position as the 2nd of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. Yet, one might ponder, does the doctor truly concern himself with such matters?

No, not at all. He doesn't have the time to clean everything or keep them in such an organized state. He simply knows everything is in place, and the mess scarcely holds him back (he hires maids once in a while, when the mess gets too much, and in 1 out of 5 maids he hires only makes it out alive).

Yet, what truly imbued this room with a sense of sanctity? For within these walls, he unearthed his genuine solace and tranquility.

In this space, silence reigned supreme. Isolation was his companion, a cherished serenity he embraced. Here, his thoughts danced, inventions took form, and ideas flowed onto paper alongside intricate equations. Occasionally, he'd pass out on his desk and drool all over his papers. This room stood as a shelter inviolable, reserved solely for those few instances of urgency or the presence of a fellow Harbinger.

All other members of the Fatui instinctively bid their time, patiently awaiting his emergence from the sanctum of his office before venturing to approach him. For within its confines, the Doctor was impervious to disruption. No one disturbs the Doctor.

That was before you came along, of course.

The office, ill-suited for a child of your tender years, harbored a minefield of hazards. Within its walls lay various artifacts, concoctions, and intricate machinery, a perilous realm unfit for the innocent curiosity of youth. Regrettably, your presence inadvertently disrupted the serene harmony that had long enveloped this space, unsettling the Doctor who, by nature, dislikes abrupt shifts and deviations from what he was used to.

When you first arrived in his office (he didn't want you inside of it, after all, he wasn't exactly fond of children, but he had no choice) you were immediately injured after stepping onto a shard of glass that Dottore has completely ignored. You tried your very best not to cry for the sake of not irritating Dottore further, but he wasn't very gentle with your wound either.

He took note of keeping his vials away from the edge of his table.

Then a bunch of books topples over you. He puts them into the shelves now, and you helped him organize by using the Dewey Decimal System, to which you had read from a book.

Then, while he was explaining his recent idea (rather enthusiastically) to you, his hand accidentally slammed against his files and flew straight to your face. You also helped him organize his papers.

And then it was cleaning his desk, offering him DIY pencil holders you've made just for him. You've also invented a mug that prevents the liquid inside from spilling (he thinks it was a rather brilliant invention, he no longer has to worry about spilling on his desk).

And then it was putting his rather precarious possessions somewhere else, outside the vicinity of his office and far away from your grasp.

You were very eager to help him in any way possible, and for a child, you quite enjoyed receiving chores. Yet, your contentment was uncomplicated, drawn from the privilege of being granted entry to his treasure trove of knowledge, replete with a limitless collection of books, materials, and tools.

Dottore always thought that you'd be such a nuisance to him once you entered his office and sully the peace he has always known within his office's enclosed haven.

But he didn't expect to welcome your presence at all, on such short notice, too. (Deep inside, he felt a strange warmth in his chest whenever you'd tug on his coat, asking if he needed any assistance with organizing his office. He wonders what it was, though.)

So, here you were, amidst the symphony of pen strokes etching against paper, a solitary melody resonating within the confines of his office.

Contrary to his expectations, the calmness he believed would dissipate upon your arrival had, in fact, been amplified by leaps and bounds. As he observed from the corner of his eye, you reclined on your stomach, legs swinging idly behind you, immersed in a world of creativity. Strewn across the floor, an assortment of crayons bore testament to your artistic endeavors, while he diligently attended to the papers handed by the Fatui.

Then, as if hesitant to break the comfortable silence, you tried to catch his attention with a soft 'psst!', then covered your mouth with your tiny hand to suppress your childish giggles.

The corners of his lips twitch in irritance amusement as he turns his head toward you, his pen on the desk. You broke into a much bigger grin and held your drawing close to your chest, not wanting to expose it just yet. "Hey, Dotdot!" You whispered to him, and he can't help but roll his eyes smile at the nickname you've given him. "Can I show you what I drew?"

Dottore emitted a contemplative hum as if grappling with the decision of whether to engage or remain absorbed in his thoughts. Your evident impatience manifested in a pout, prompting his response. "Well, fine," He yielded, beckoning you forth. You beamed brightly as you swiftly rose to your feet and bounded toward him, your landing generating a muted grunt from him. A steadying hand rested on the desk, enabling him to regain his composure, after which he settled your giggling form comfortably within the space between his legs. "Now then," He put his hands on your shoulder, "What is it you wished to share?"

With another giggle from your ceaseless childish amusement, you gave him the piece of paper. Big, round eyes sparkling against the light of the room looked up at him expectantly. Dottore received the drawing from you, his gaze lingering over its details, drawn into a moment of shared curiosity and wonder.

It was him, and you, holding hands, depicted with earnest effort and the imaginative touch of your youthful artistry. Around you were a bunch of other versions of him, his segments, though you've only drawn five (since they were the only ones who have interacted with you so far). Each had their names labeled beneath them, but Dottore absolutely adores that you've labeled him as 'Dotdot' instead (you've also drawn Pantalone holding your other hand and labeled him as 'Pants', adorned both figures with encircling hearts).

"Truly remarkable artwork," He stated with a smile, his words accompanied by the sound of your jubilant cheers, "This masterpiece deserves a place of honor, a spot where all can admire it. I can already imagine the joy it will bring to the other segments once they lay eyes on it."

"Really!?"

"Of course, I do believe they enjoy your company, little bunny."

As he carefully set the drawing on his table, your inquisitive gaze caught his attention. With a tilt of your head, a gesture he knew all too well, you asked him a question, "Why do you call me that?"

"Hm? Call you what?" Dottore grabbed you gently and settled you onto his desk. Positioned face to face, at eye level, his intent was clear—to engage with you as both an adult and a child, a balance you seemed to relish.

"Bunny! You call me bunny lots,"

"Oh? Do you not like it?"

You vigorously shook your head, "No no, I love it! I get called nicknames, but they're all mean." You furrow your brow as you reminisced, pouting at the awful memories. But then you broke into a big smile again, "But yours is new and cute! So, why do you call me that?"

Dottore's grin widened, revealing his sharp teeth, a sight that enthralled you. Your hands instinctively moved to his cheeks, your eyes filled with wonder, and he welcomed the touch wholeheartedly. "Ahh, ever so curious, aren't you, little bun?" He teased playfully, giving your nose a gentle boop! with his finger, and your giggles were a delightful response. "You see, I call you bunny because you embody its spirit—small, swift, and an endless source of vibrant energy.

You also love to hop onto people a lot."

"I love giving surprise hugs! I'm too small, so a jump, so I can wrap my arms around them a bit higher!" You huffed as he chuckled at your explanation. "What are you, then? What animal?"

"Oh? I've never thought about what kind of animal I'd be... Hmmm..." Dottore mused for a while, his expression thoughtful. Eventually, he arrived at a decision. "A fox, I think. Crafty, shrewd, and sly. A creature that prowls with a purpose and possesses those distinct, sharp teeth." As he said that, he grins once more to show his sharp teeth, then lunges for your finger, mimicking a bite, prompting you to gasp and pull back with a joyful squeal.

"And speaking of bunnies..." His tone took on a mischievous edge, causing your eyes to widen in anticipation. Suddenly, he swooped in, grabbing your legs and lifting you high into the air. "I might just gobble you up!" Dottore's playful pretense of chomping down on you elicited a cascade of laughter from you. You pushed at his head, trying to escape his 'gobbling' jaws, your legs kicking playfully as you enjoyed the moment.

"I don't think you're a fox, Dotdot!" You quipped, retaking your seat on his desk. Playfully swinging your legs, you mused aloud, a soft humming accompanying your contemplation.

Dottore raised an intrigued eyebrow, "Oh? And what am I in the eyes of my little bunny? Perhaps something more fearsome?" He inquired, looming over you in an effort to intimidate you.

Instead, your eyes lit up brightly, and you joyfully clapped your hands together. "Oh, I've got it! A crow!" You exclaimed with a triumphant smile.

A bemused frown replaced his grin as he processed your unexpected response. "...A crow?" He echoed, clearly puzzled by your choice. "Of all animals?"

And you merely smile at him, giggling at his confused reaction, "Mhm! Yeah! A crow that talks on and on and on." Your hands followed your words, almost hitting him in the face, "A crow that is death and prey over rotting corpses, but a crow that saved me! I thought Dotdot was an angel, but angels don't have black feathers, scary smiles, or red eyes."

Your words painted a vivid picture of your perception, a whimsical and deeply personal perspective on his nature. Dottore nods along, intrigued, as you rambled your thoughts to him, not even chastising you for grabbing the beak of his mask and playing with it.

"You're a crow! You're very smart, and clever, and creative! You're scary to other people, but not to me! I love corvids, I used to feed them bits of animal after I dissect them, and they always bring me something shiny. They were my only friends, and now you're my friend too!"

He doesn't understand the gentle warmth that began to unfurl within his chest as he remained attentive to your words. While unfamiliar, this sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome... "I beg to differ, my dear bunny. I am unmistakably a fox,"

"Then you're a crow pretending to be a fox!" You pout, stubbornly crossing your arms. "I think crows are way cooler than foxes. They can fly! Plus, you can't call yourself a fox when you resemble a crow more than a fox!" You pointed out, a triumphant smirk on your lips.

Well, you do have a point. He does wear a beaked mask, coupled with a bird-like shoulder embellishment bedecked in exquisite black feathers.

"Should I then consider donning attire that better befits a fox?"

At the notion, you fixed him with a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in an adorable display of discontent. "Nooooo! I prefer Mr. Crow!" you protested with a playful whine, punctuating your words by delivering gentle punches to his shoulders with your tiny hands.

He chuckles at your small tantrum, and he swiftly gathers you into his embrace. Your arms naturally encircled his neck as he rose from his seat, carrying you toward the door, your precious drawing clutched in your hands. "Very well, very well, my dear Mr. Crow it shall remain," He conceded with a playful tone, his steps filled with an easy camaraderie.

Victoriously, you shot him a smug grin, to which he rolled his eyes at.

"Do you wanna know something, Mr. Crow?" You mutter in his ear as he walks past one of his segments.

"Hm? What is it?"

You made sure to whisper it very quietly, hoping the other segments won't hear you. "Between you and me, I think that your younger segments are like rats!"

He didn't know what came over him, he released a hearty, resounding laugh, its volume surprising not just you but also the other segments who happened to be present, each momentarily taken aback by their own affairs. Such an outpouring of mirth was rare for him (only when he was inside his dark, cool lab, alone with experiments).

A sense of pride swelled in your chest as you grinned widely, his laughter infectious as you burst into a fit of giggles. It was a scary laugh, maybe it was just naturally like that, but to you, it sounded very happy. "They bit me once! I was just poking their face."

"Perhaps give them a treat before you approach them," He says, calming down as he continues his trek toward your room. "This gesture might just soften their demeanor."

"What, like cheese?"

"Oh, little bun, that'll drive them even more mad once they found out you called them rats."

You share another grin with him, finding a cozy spot to rest your chin upon his shoulder in contentment, "Good! I think they're funny when their faces turn red."

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I’ll appreciate it very very much! Don’t repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[fictoculus]

Hello ^^ I've been reading your stories and I really like them and I was just wondering if you don't mind doing a genshin impact boys x Reader with the characters being Tighnari,Kaeya,Albedo,Alhaitham and Kaveh? And the story being you hug them from behind (I hope that is fine with you of course no NSFW I've read the request rules ^^) that is if you still do genshin impact

౨ৎ hugging them from behind...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... tighnari, kaeya, albedo, alhaitham, kaveh

A/N... hellooo anon, thanks so much for this request, and for taking the time to read my rules too, i really appreciate it! alsoo, i'm so glad you like my writing, it means so much ♡ i actually really love this concept, and you've chosen some good characters too! apologies in advance if anyone is ooc ^^ (i have a feeling tighnari and kaeya might be a bit whoopssss)

✧ tighnari.

for tighnari, being the "chief officer of forest rangers" comes with a lot of responsibility, an example being informing the rangers of the route for patrol and any threats they could face along the way. that's why, when you find your beloved stood infront of a group of eager men and women, you're hardly surprised.

you sneak closer to them, listening in on the instructions your beloved was giving, but not paying attention to a single word said; instead, relishing in the smooth sound of tighnari's voice. it was so calming and so soothing; he was always able to relax you from just a few words... and that's when you decided, you wanted to hear it "more up close"

the "plan" had been created, and it was a simple one at that; you knew tighnari always left his weapons at home while instructing the team for some unknown reason, but would always have to come back to collect them before setting off. you thought you'd be helpful and bring them to him instead, it would save him the unnecessary trip, after all.

despite a couple doubts crossing your mind, you decided to follow through with your "plan", rushing back home to collect his bow, trying your best to be as quick as possible so that you don't miss your chance; and luckily, you didn't.

arriving back at the meeting grounds, you make your way over to tighnari, being sure to approach him from behind. setting his bow aside, you waved at the rangers who waved back enthusiastically, leaving tighnari to wonder: "who are they all waving at? me?"

he lifts his arm to wave awkwardly, only for you to grab hold of him, squeezing him tightly around his waist and pressing tender kisses behind his ears.

"you forgot your bow again, love"

you whispered, a rosey hue tinting his cheeks as his eyes widened in embarassment. instinctively, tighnari wraps his tail around you, his soft fur tickling your skin slightly. you smile to yourself, just imagining how brightly he must be blushing; having about a dozen people watching an intimate moment he'd much rather keep private, or atleast away from an audience.

"i have a question regarding the-"

"any questions will be discussed another time, dismissed"

he hurriedly shoos the forest rangers away, making up excuses such as "there are matters i must attend to" and even "those things don't concern you, now please take your leave". he acted all angry when he turned to face you, but archons, he looked adorable.

"now what do you think you're up to, hm? hugging me like that infont of all the rangers?"

"i can tell you aren't mad, 'nari"

you can read him like a book, knowing exactly how he acts when he tries to hide how flustered he is; how he attempts to harden his exterior but gives in within seconds.

"i- i never said i was i just... don't you- i-"

he sighs, admitting defeat as he burries his face in the crook of your neck. you feel his hot breath against your shoulder as he murmurs:

"i hate you"

"i love you too"

✧ kaeya.

you walked to the cat's tail with a spring in your step, excited to see kaeya after spending more than a week apart. you'd been on a long expedition to liyue and had only just gotten back to mondstadt, not bothering to drop your belongings off at your house but instead hauling them along with you; unable to wait any longer to see your beloved (and silently praying he'd offer to help you carry them to your place)

after what felt like an hour of walking, you finally made it to your destination, shoulders sore from having to carry your bags instead of loading them onto a cart like you had when travelling to the nation of contracts.

poking your head into the tavern, you could see kaeya sat at one of the tables alone, watching out of the window, as if he was waiting for something, or someone... that's right, you!

you watch him carefully, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and there it was: he'd gotten up from his seat, suppossedly to order a drink at the bar, and attempt to avoid the black cat and his... friendly translator; being invited to play a game of genius invocation tcg was the last thing he wanted.

dropping everything and leaving it in a pile at the front door, you practically throw yourself inside and run towards kaeya, his back now turned to you as he walks back to his table.

"[name]? archons, you scared me, i almost dropped my drink!"

refusing to let go, the two of you awkwardly waddle to the window, wanting some peace and quiet away from the taverns other patrons.

"someone's a little friendly today, hm? you miss me that much?"

"well if you don't want my attention, i can just let go..."

you tease, slowly but surely loosening your grip on his waist and sliding your hands to his sides. without warning, he grabs hold of your hands and wraps them back around him, holding them in place firmly, caressing your palms with his thumbs.

"i never said let go! wait... do you... not want to hug me anymore?"

here comes the show... kaeya would gasp dramatically, clutching at his chest as if he'd been struck by lightning, or something even more theatrical.

"do you not love me anymore?"

it never ends. he keeps building on it, acting hurt by your actions, more-so physically than mentally despite you having injured him being nothing to do with the "plot". only when you spin him around in your arms and press your lips against his does he finally stop talking, melting into the kiss as his mind goes completely blank. he'd pull away panting for air, his eyes glazed over with pure adoration.

"i love you"

"i love you moreee"

you're basically asking for it at this point.

"you love me more than i love you? impossible! preposterous! disgraceful! outrag-"

"i'm going to magically fall out of love with you in a minute if you don't-"

"i'm only kiddinggg, you're so fun to tease"

he brings one of your hands up to his lips and kisses it softly with a big grin plastered on his face; oh how he loves to wind you up, and secretly, you love it too.

"i do love your hugs though, and i really did miss you so... please hug me again?"

✧ albedo.

it's been hours since you'd last seen albedo, and though only a few hours doesn't sound too long, it felt like an eternity. it was all too often he'd hide away up in dragonspine, working tirelessly on his latest experiments and not taking any time for himself, and it worried you. that being said, you decided to come up with a plan to distract him, and a hug from behind sounded like the perfect idea...

you creep into his campsite, waiting for the perfect moment to throw yourself onto him.

"3... 2..."

you whispered to yourself, counting down the seconds before you could finally hold your beloved once more, missing his gentle touch; and you were more than just eager.

"1!"

excited, you jog up to him and wrap your arms tightly around him, but feeling him jolt so harshly made you slightly concerened...

"woah! careful, careful!"

panicked, albedo sets down the equipment in his hands as quickly as he can, worried he'd drop or injure you with them. he lets out a sigh of relief once they're out of the way, moving his hands ontop of yours and loosening your grip so that he could turn to face you. hands now resting on your waist, he looks at you with a stern expression.

"[name], what did i tell you about hugging around my experiments?"

"i know, i know, i just missed you and thought if i hug you from behind i wouldn't be getting in the way"

"i-... technically you're right, but you gave me quite the scare nevertheless, it could've caused an explosion if we were to have fallen. what kind of lover would i be if i were to put you in danger?"

"i'm sorry, 'bedo, i didn't mean to-"

he sighs, noticing the way he was being slightly too hard on you; all he wanted was to keep you safe. he'd never forgive himself if you were to be injured from one of his experiments, which is why he always to extra precautios when it came to you.

"i know, it's alright, my love, i'm just glad you didn't get hurt"

he leans towards you, reaching both hands up to cup your cheeks, squeezing them gently before giving you a soft kiss on the lips. he doesn't take his eyes off of you, pulling away from the kiss only to look into your eyes, his own filled with the purest love. you could get lost in them for hours, admiring how all the different hues work together so perfectly to create the most beautiful shade of blue.

"i know you were probably hoping to spend some time together, but... i really have to get this done, honey, i'm sorry"

"that's ok, i just want to be with you..."

"... then stay, hold onto me from behind, ok? just make sure you-"

"-don't touch anything, i've got it"

and so you hung onto albedo, almost like a sloth, slowing down his movements ever so slightly, but he didn't mind, nor did he mention it. he'd apologise whenever he accidentally stood on you foot, even though he wasn't applying much pressure in the first place, being purposefully light on his feet as to not hurt you. every now and then, he'd take hold of one of your hands, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it so gingerly before setting it back down onto his waist.

sure, it wasn't the most romantic scenario, but you couldn't care less; all you wanted was him, to hold him, to feel his warmth against you, to know he was there...

✧ alhaitham.

"'haithammm"

you call out, wondering into his study, half expecting him to be elsewhere, but being pleasantly surprised when you find him sat comfortably in his arm chair. (like an old man)

"yes, darling?"

a soft smile creeps onto your face as you slowly make your way towards him; you just can't help it. even when he is doing almost nothing, alhaitham never fails to charm you, to make you smile like an idiot from a single glance.

"will you tell me that story again? the one about the dr- oh! sorry i didn't realise you were busy-"

you apologise profusely, turning to leave but only being able to take a few steps before alhaitham grabs your arm and drags you back towards him, almost pulling you over the arm of his chair

"love, it's ok, i'm not busy, i can tell you stories whenever you'd like to hear them"

"that's ok, how about you tell me about that book instead?"

you smile down at him sweetly before taking a look at the cover of his book; the gold lettering complimenting the brown leather perfectly.

"darling, you don't have to pretend to be interested, i can t-"

"no, no, please, tell me what you're reading! i like hearing you talk about your books"

he blushes slightly, his slightly widened eyes flicking back to the pages of the novel within an instant, wanting to avoid any possible eye contact.

"well, if you insist... this book is about how two-"

listening carefully, you move behind him, resting your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down his upper arm before dragging them across his chest. your hands meet near the middle, intertwining with eachother and resting against alhaitham's pounding heart.

"everything ok?"

you tease, knowing well how flustered this makes him, enjoying how he stuggles to keep a hold of himself.

"i- as i was saying... this book here is about two young lovers, how they met, and how they will someday grow old together and see the beauties of the world beyond life hand-in-hand... quite a precious story if i do say so myself, wh-"

you stand in shock, scanning over the open pages to make sure the story he's explaining is truly the one held in his hands; to your surprise, it was.

"wait wait wait, 'haitham... you are reading a romance novel?!"

"is that so surprising?"

"never in my life did i think alhaitham, the akedemiya's scribe who seems only interested in facts and figures, would be reading books about romance"

"well, dare i say you've rubbed off on me, love"

"i- i have?"

"why of course you have, every empty moment is filled with you, my love. see,"

he gestures to the pieces of - what looks like - paper sticking out of the book in various places, each one seemingly marking a significant moment in the plot.

"-even this book reminds me of you, all these little tabs represent thoughts of mine, these purple ones are thoughts of you, of us"

much to your disbelief, almost every single tab - par one or two - is coloured a shade of purple, you can even spot a couple of hearts peeking out from inbetween the pages. each section that was sticking out had the words "i love you" carefully written on them, written in his fancy handrwiting rather than what you refer to as his "scribe mode handwriting"

you squeeze him tighter, touched by how head over heels he was for you, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and planting soft kisses on along his shoulder and below his jaw. you wanted to show just how loved you felt in that moment, and how loved you wanted him to feel too. little did you know, alhaitham was a blushing mess; his face a vibrant hue of pink, his mouth forming words but not being able to force any of them out.

"i love you so much, 'haitham"

"i- i love you, [name]"

✧ kaveh.

"that doesn't seem quite right..."

kaveh is stood pondering in his office, the blueprints on the easle in front of him full of detail, far more complicated than anyone other than him could make any sense of. several stacks of scrolls take up all his desk space, 'stealing' his pencils and other pieces of equipment, or atleast that's what he claims to be happening.

in reality, his workspace is far too messy, causing him even more stress ontop of trying to find the perfect measurements for whatever building he was planning. you picked up on this, how he often promises to eat with you at the table, but gets so lost in his work he dismisses his own needs just for the sake of his project.

you decide to take the initiative, covering the plates of food with towels before making your way to kaveh's office; a small building to the left of the living area of the property, though it seemed to be that he was living there instead.

slowly pushing the front door open, you let yourself inside, sighing happily at not only the warm air against your now cold cheeks, but also at the comforting scent that you know all too well...

"it looks good, hun" you'd say, your voice gentle and sweet as to not scare him. he wouldn't turn to face you, but instead stare holes into his blueprints, hand holding his chin as he was lost in thought.

"hm? oh, sorry love, could you repeat that? i didn't hear you"

you make your way over to him, choosing to stand behind him rather than infront. snaking your arms around his waist and pulling him into you, you rest nuzzle the side of your face against his back. he jolts slightly, only to relax into your touch seconds after. "it's looking good" you repeat yourself, rubbing circles on his stomach through his shirt in an attempt to ease his stress. all it does is leave him stressed and flustered... ok maybe a bit less stressed, he's not complaining though. he loves the way you're so gentle with your hands, and know exactly how to make him feel so flustered. placing his own hands on yours, he intertwines your fingers with his, dragging your hands across his lower stomach to wrap around him tighter. "y- you really think so?"

"of course i do, love, everything you design is beyond beautiful, but this one especially...

"would- do you think you'd live in it?"

"oh, absolutely! strangely enough, it looks just like how i imagined my home to be when i was younger"

unbeknownst to you, kaveh is uncontrollably smiling like an idiot, knowing that you approve of your future home really gives him even more motivation to put his all into every single one of the blueprints, making sure not to miss even a single detail...

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

© FICTOCULUS 2023; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[pinkgy]

okay, ignore the previous ask, i can't be more blind and stupid (💀).

so, if it isn't a bother, may you write some headcanons about the kings (satan, mammon, beelzebub and leviathan) with a reader who's slightly chubby and dislikes their (reader's) body.

thanks in advance, dear.

–☕ (wishing to end myself after this one.)

Hi ! Thank you so much for your request and congratulations for being the first request that is not about sex lol I needed a break.

Here it is! I loved writing this request and I hope you like it ♡

It's a bit OOC in some parts (Leviathan), but in my defense, it's not easy to write fluff about them.

Also, I'm sorry if I didn't focus much on the body type part, I'm not a great fan of specifying the reader's body type, race, and sometimes even height, but it's okay! I tried my best.

Also, this is my contribution to the soft and sweet Mammon HC.

𝗪𝗛𝗕

𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

"𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨"

♡

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡

✮ He’s in denial, Satan has you on a pedestal and he genuinely cannot believe that you think this way about yourself, simply because it’s a completely different opinion than the one he has of you.

✮ If you dare to mention any discomfort with your appearance in front of him, he will laugh in your face telling you to stop joking about such things, and when you look at him completely serious he might realize that he was wrong.

✮ Satan genuinely doesn't have any specific body preference, in his eyes you’re perfect, all he cares about is that you’re healthy both physically and mentally. 

✮ Once he fully realizes, you won't EVER hear him joking about it, and if someone else dared to they’re dead within seconds. The same goes for you "jokingly" mistreating yourself, that's the biggest offense for him and the lecture your life awaits you.

✮ This situation would become a priority for satan, he's capable of leaving aside all his work just to do the impossible to make you feel better about yourself. 

✮ He gets very frustrated every time you talk negatively about yourself, and he feels sad every time he notices that you feel insecure about your body, Satan somehow puts himself in your shoes, and that makes him take everything too seriously.

“Stop looking at yourself like that, I know what you're thinking and I don't like it” He hugs you from behind "Let's talk, you're too pretty to be thinking those things"

𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗭𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗕

✮ He might believe that you’re joking if you tell him, and he also might jokingly tell you something like “Yeah, I don’t like your body either” Clearly no offense intended, he would genuinely think that you’re not being serious.

✮ Beelzebub won’t realize that his “Harmless comment” made you feel bad unless someone else tells him that he screwed up, probably many days later he will approach you and actually apologize.

✮ Don’t expect any elaborate apologies from him, he will tell you what is necessary. But after he has taken a long time trying to remember everything you said to him that day, he will subtly start looking for ways to make you feel better about yourself. 

✮ Believe me, Beelzebub is going to make sure you hear every chance he gets about how perfect you are, and in case he forgets to tell you, Bael is under strict orders to remind him. 

✮ He’s really supportive but he sucks at showing it, his main goal is to distract you from your insecurity by at the same time trying to not distract himself, and somehow, it works.

"And who said that being yourself is not okay? As long as that beautiful body of yours is well-fed and healthy, you are the hottest person out there"

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡

✮ He would get offended, but like, really offended, the moment he notices or when you tell him about it he acts like those Latina grandmas when their grandchild tells them they're gay,

literally him.

✮ He's never seen anyone more ethereal than you, how do you even dare to dislike yourself?

✮ He genuinely doesn’t care about your body type, your weight, etc, as long as you’re healthy he’s going to love every part of you.

✮ He’s an amazing listener, Mammon will encourage you to vent to him while he slowly caresses your hair, and every time you say something he’s not okay with, he kisses your forehead.

✮ He wouldn't think you're joking, the opposite, Mammon would take this really seriously, but like, too seriously, to the point where you’re not getting out of Tartaros without loving your body as much as he loves it, and believe me, that’s a lot. 

“How can you hate such a beautiful body like yours? Every inch of you is perfect and just looking at you feels like a privilege, so don't overthink too much please”

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡

✮ Leviathan will genuinely get mad at you, if he finds out, he will ignore you, and if you tell him, he will leave and ignore you too, but it’s temporary, he will get over it in a few days. 

✮ He kind of sucks at comforting people, but he can and will try his best with you, just don’t expect much from him, and know that he’s genuine about it.

✮ He will make an annoyed face every time you comment something negative about yourself, and trust me, you will notice.

✮ Leviathan has a very good memory, and he’ll make a mental note of every part of your body that you mention that you don’t like, and every chance he gets he will make sure to kiss or caress that part. He won’t be very obvious, but somehow, he will find a way to discreetly improve your opinion of yourself.

✮ He would hang anyone who dared to make jokes about your body, and would also hang anyone who complimented you, only he has the right to do that.

✮ And on those days when you feel particularly bad about your body, Leviathan will be sure to find a way to distract you with something else, he’s very observant so he wouldn’t need to listen to you to know how you feel, he’ll just suddenly leave his work for a few hours and take you to one of your favorite places, even if he hates the place, he hates more that you have a bad opinion of yourself.

“Get those thoughts out of your head, people should be jealous of how you look, okay? Don't be ridiculous”

[nekrosdolly]

albert wesker hcs pt.2 (re1-re5) (18+)

a/n; overall headcanons for whiskers himself! both nsfw and sfw, mostly nsfw. these are just my opinions and if they're ooc, i'm sorry. i'd like to say that im so down bad it's horrible and laughable. probably my longest post yet my computer is killing itself.

cw; nsfw content (i.e. kink talk, genitalia discussions and descriptions, mentions of dubcon and CNC, collaring mentions, cockwarming, impact play, light bondage, bdsm themes, dom/sub relationship)

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ hex codes ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

applies to all variants

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - overall skintone is #F6E5DE

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his eyes are #adcfe6

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his cock starts with #f6e5de, fades to #F1D8CD. tip is #ffc8b5.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his hair (pubes included) is #F0E2B6

₊˚⊹♡size and habits ₊˚⊹♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he's 8" in length, definitely can't close your fingers around it. thick vein on the underside.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 6'2 in height, more lean than muscular. towers over most.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - definitely well groomed. not very hairy in general, thus he doesn't have very much hair to groom. cuts his hair (in the bathroom by himself mind you) every month.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - re1 eats as needed, the healthy 3 times a day, and plenty of water to stay on top of his game. re5 doesn't have the need to eat or drink. he's no longer 100% human and his appetite diminished within months of taking doses of Uroboros.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - reads a lot when he's not working. non-fiction, science-based literature to expand his knowledge. his wits came naturally, sure, but that doesn't mean he can't maintain them. at home, when he's truly by himself, he doesn't wear his sunglasses. he has an actual prescription pair that's a similar style to his sunglasses, just without the tint.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his guilty pleasures are romance novels. the vampire kind, specifically. he finds them entertaining though he often makes fun of the cheesier ones. when he stumbles across the occasional good one, he rereads it over and over again until he's worn out the spine.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he drinks wine. not one for beer, truthfully, but will drink some here and there. whiskey is his second choice.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙kinks⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

୨୧ - (re1) at the beginning of your relationship, he'll only do something if you ask him to. he's never thought much about sexual exploration given his long, *long* history of solitude. he refuses to do anything that might injure you- knifeplay, gunplay, impact play (light or hard), etc. sure, he'll tie you up if you ask, he doesn't mind. he plays into your desires.

୨୧ - (re1) the more he researches, the more he finds he likes. he buys some ribbon to bind you with- the flimsy kind you can get out of quickly should you need to. he loves pink on you. he only binds your wrists together, nothing too intense. maybe he blindfolds you, uses a toy on you, or overstimulates you. consent checks regularly, as well. you use safewords should you need them.

୨୧ - (re5) fully established kinks. he's less human and less rational, but he knows to respect your boundaries. he leaves bite marks all over you and demands that you don't cover them up with makeup or clothing. he likes owning you. you're given a collar, of which you can put on or take off as you please, but during which you are fully submissive to him and whatever he wants you to do.

୨୧ - (re5) consensual nonconsensual (cnc) is his favorite. of course, you have to be wearing your collar for him to take advantage of you. safewords are a must for the both of you. he's never submissive, definitely a hard dom. he doesn't feel the need for knives or guns, but he does love impact play. loves shutting up your bratty mouth by slapping you and manhandling you. he's switched to handcuffs instead of ribbon if he deems them necessary.

୨୧ - (re5) since Uroboros has diminished his humanity by a good chunk, he's more animalistic towards you. aside from marking you up, he's obsessed with breeding. adores cumming inside you until you're leaking it. he knows you love it just as much as he does. at some point, it becomes routine. "such a slut. can't go a day without being fucked full of cum." he degrades you lightly, nothing that would genuinely hurt. simple things i.e slut, whore, toy, doll, dumb, stupid, etc.

༘⋆✿ favorite positions ༘⋆✿

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re1) he likes seeing your face. he loves watching your face twist and contort with the pleasure he gives you. adores being able to see all of you, all of what he does to you. eye contact drives him crazy. if you're blindfolded, he won't finish until you're done. he'll ask if he can take your blindfold off between kisses to your face.

๋࣭ ⭑ - missionary is a must. your first time with each other is missionary- the romantic first time you'd see in movies where he takes his time to make you feel valued. the lotus position is another one he likes if you're going to be on top. he's okay with you riding him too, if you really want, but he'd prefer to be the one in control.

๋࣭ ⭑ - if you both aren't feeling sex, he loves getting you off by having you sit on his face or using his fingers on you. he doesn't need anything in exchange either. he's found that he doesn't like receiving head, as he finds it to be degrading towards you, and that's the last thing he wants. but if you insist, he allows it. he mutters praises as you take him down to the base, swallowing around him in an attempt to not gag.

๋࣭ ⭑ - mutual masturbation is something he's weak for. he loves watching your hand try to fit around him as you stroke his cock so eagerly, his fingers buried in your weeping entrance.

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re5) he prefers less intimacy, not like how he used to. he thinks it's too human, something he's made quite clear that he's not anymore. he'll fuck you just about anywhere. he prefers doggy with his arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold. bonus points if you beg him to breed you in this position.

๋࣭ ⭑ - what he gets, he'll give. you give him head, something he's come to enjoy, he'll give you head with the same enthusiasm.

๋࣭ ⭑ - cockwarming is a must. prefers it while he's either reading or working at his desk. sometimes, he'll make you read to him and thrust up into you occasionally so you stumble over your words. when he gets impatient, he pins you down and fucks into you until he comes at least twice inside of you.

๋࣭ ⭑ - wearing your collar? he'll fuck you while you're cuddling. spooning is preferred, but whether you're sitting on his lap, lying on top of him, or him on top of you, he's putting his cock inside you. very rarely does he do slow and soft, but if you're both tired, he'll be careful with you. he loves sitting you in his lap, his forceful grip on your hips, and moving you like a ragdoll. superhuman strength pays off in situations like this. his fingertips leave bruises that make his cock twitch whenever he sees them.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pet names ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re1) calls you darling, dearest, dear, little dove, dove. adores praising you and could for days on end. (i.e. "that's it, dear, you're doing so well for me. are you alright? should i stop?)

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re5) calls you pet, dear, bunny, darling, slut, whore, dolly. praises and degrades you. (i.e. "what a good fucking whore, taking my cock so well. you were made for taking my cock, my personal whore. i'm going to ruin you for anyone else." )