#(and he's the guy laying in front of her lol)

[syninplays]

More random screenshoots of Eivor being cool af but also a girl boss <3

[sleepymarimo]

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

all the times franco colapinto and yn were unhinged on each others socials

find more here!

francolapinto just posted.

liked by ynusername, williamsracing, alexalbon and 394.483 others

francolapinto this has been such an amazing experience! thank you @/williamsracing 💙

see comments

ynusername post season celebrations starts... now🤭

francolapinto then why are you laying next to me STILL DRESSED?

ynusername ugh men these days... i wont do the work myself silly

alexalbon do you guys realise this is not a private chat?

user1 OMG PLS THEYRE ARE SO CUTE AND DUMB TOGETHER

user2 williams pls pls pls never make them change🙏🙏🙏

user3 I'm gonna miss him so much💔

williamsracing it was a pleasure to have you with us💙

alexalbon good luck mate!💙 (finally all this lack of pr training will stop😍)

ynusername are you sure about this...

alexalbon NO

user4 KELSMBAKAKS SHE'S SUCH A DIVA

user5 yn you will be forever missed.

user6 no more yn and franco comments😔

francolapinto no one can stop us😏

williamsracing 😰

landonorris blocked❤️‍🔥

user7 it was about time

charlesleclerc hoping I'll see you more around the paddock! 😊

f1wags_and_gossip just posted.

liked by francolapinto and others

f1wags_and_gossip recent photos of yn! she looked stunning in NYC💚

see comments

user8 LMAOOO NOT FRANCO IN THE LIKES

user9 he's obsessed 🥲

user10 WHO WOULDN'T??? THAT'S YN WE'RE TALKING ABOUT🙏‼️

francolapinto DAMN RIGHT🤭

user10 OMG FRANCO????

francolapinto mami

user11 ohhh there he is

francolapinto ughhhh why she always looks so good😣😣😣

user12 its not fairrrr

user13 tbh franco is so real cause HAVE U SEEN HER??

francolapinto step on me. run me over. literally do anything you want and I'll still beg for more🙏

f1wags_and_gossip oh!

user14 well that was... specific😀

user15 we listen and we don't judge ☝️

user16 judge? i would let her do way worse things to me😞

francolapinto ^^

user16 LOL AJaAKKAKA FRANCOOO

williamsracing we can't even take a breath without franco causing media scandals

francolapinto again, appreciating my woman shouldnt be a scandal???

alexalbon he'll never understand i fear...😟

user17 PLS STOP AJJAJAJAHAHA

ynusername just posted.

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ynusername second pic is me when he looks at me with those pretty green eyes and asks me if i want to get on my knees for him😇

see comments

user18 oh...

user19 CAPTION IS INSANE

user20 insanely REAL you mean?

user21 oh! that's not...

francolapinto you always make the prettiest expression i cant help it but ask🫣

ynusername awww🥹

user22 GIRL WHY ARE YOU DISCUSSING THE WAY YOU GIVE HEAD HERE????

alexalbon agreed. go somewhere else.

ynusername no❤️

landonorris I THOUGHT I BLOCKED YOU AND THAT THING EWWWW

ynusername dont worry ill block you now🙏❤️

landonorris thank god

user23 lmfaoooo lando is so me rn

user24 can i be blocked too? i cant keep seeing this

yourbestie CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW I FELT OPENING INSTAGRAM AND YOU POPPING ON MY SCREEN HALF NAKED IN FRONT OF MY ALL FAMILY?

ynusername ooooopppppsssieee

yourbestie girl.

yourbestie OMG I JUST READ THE CAPTION WTF IS THAT EW?

user25 literally my reaction

user26 we'll all been there...😔😔😔

francolapinto 🤤🤤🤤

user27 OH HE'S BACK

user28 ffs it wasnt already enough?

francolapinto ai dios mios mami i want you so bad

ynusername you can have me whenever you want baby

francolapinto dont say it twice

alexalbon bleach. i need bleach.

landonorris me too. me too.

charlesleclerc so we all need it, right?

williamsracing yes.

more here!

[s-4pphics]

the party. II (sevika + vi + abby)

SYNOPSIS: reddit: a place for thought-dumping and being horny WORD COUNT: 6.5K WARNINGS: sevika, vi, and abby play rugby(kinda minor plot tbh), oc is a crazy redditor and wears skirts, STALKING, 90% SMUT MDNI(dubcon + VOYEURISM!! + degradation + munching + mult orgasms + dirty talk + scissoring + fingering) recreational drug use/drinking, some cringe A/N: fuck it everybody finna be in this.... heyyyy guys another collab w lottie bc duh ART BY LOTTIE LOT I LOVE U DEAR @trackinglessons … also callback to scumbag!abby missing her bad a lil taglist :) @marvelwomenarehot0 @falrydyke @alittlextrahoney @professionalgirlk1ss4r

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       3mi

are college parties always this wild??

[f21] omg hey guys i’ve been MIA… 

ngl i’ve been getting my shit rocked for the past 12 hours i see why ppl go on my strange addiction as therapy… i need to be publically humiliated so i can stop thinking ab sex. thats real conversion therapy…. anywho im outside the frat rn and uh it look lit n whatever but some dude jumped outta window from the 3rd floor n he might be dead idk i don’t have my glasses on lol he’s just laying there fr unbreathing …. he’s cute tho #FAKEGAY the line to frats r so long im literally freezing n im not near the entrance pneumonia incoming 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       14mi

finally inside…. i feel like im sneaking out for the first time😭😭 why do i feel so guilty like wtf is this a byproduct of being loved conditionally by family or sum idk whatever WE TURNING UPPPP 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       3mi

my girl walkedd up behind m e 2 kiss my che eeek and my other gi dl spanked me in front of every1…… i need to be spay

Quite familiar, squeezing hands land on your hips and your phone hits the sticky fucking floor and some bitch with stiletto pumps steps on your gahtdamn phone who the fuck wears —

“Where ya been?” The scent of Crown Royal nearly sends you into a frenzy — alfuckingmost, but your phone screen is still glowing bright and orange with your half-assed cry for help Vi is right fucking behind you

“Uhhh… oh y’know, explorin’, whatevs.” You try to kick your phone closer, but you just end up slipping on whatever substance dirties the floors. Your girlfriend catches you, though, as always — hollers, okay? Need some water? 

And instantly, you’re horny. You needa nut. You politely decline the drink. 

“Come smoke with us...” She proposes. 

The bodies that surround you seem to move in slow-mo. Us who? 90% of the soccer, football, and swimming teams are here getting gyrated on but, oh, wait… 

Sevika’s not in here… Or is Don Julio obscuring your vision? Is Don Julio a real person? A commander of the Crusades; A possible descendant of Julius Caesar. Hm…

Vi’s still waiting on your response. You use her expectancy as an excuse to bend over and grab your phone and you’re instantly disgusted. Your case clings to your fingers like glue. Instead of vomiting up all the poisonous liquids in your system, you accept it as a sign from the universe. Stop putting your fucking phone down! You clench your device in your hands. Shoulda brought a fucking purse. 

“YEAH!” You turn to scream to Vi… right when the fake ass DJ decides to skip to the next song. A large number of people glance at you in confusion. At least no one told you to shut the fuck up! 

Vi’s not embarrassed in the slightest. She laughs, in fact. She’s so endeared by you. Times like this are when you start feeling a little guilty for all the bullshit you’ve done. Just a smidge though. Still gotta get your rocks off! 

“Yeah?” She cheeses against your shoulder. 

“Yup!” 

… What are you agreeing to, again? Vi’s a love witch: she forces your train of thought into obscurity with her beauty. Don Julio should not be tampered with any longer! Electricity travels up your arm when her hand circles around yours to guide you out and onto the patio, through the glass door and yeah, they’re blazing out here. It’s loud as fuck. 

“SEV!” 

You follow the sonic of Vi’s shout and your legs forget their function when you see your location. 

Oh fuck. Wow. Okay fuck fuck holy fucking shit! 

Very large tall big bulky muscular women overtake your view. The whole fucking rugby team is out here puff-puff-passing; Nothing but tatted arms and girthy biceps made for hunting teeth and legs legs legs everywhere. Did Don Julio slice your throat in the name of justice or whatever the fuck your high school history teacher tried to lie to you about and sent you to heaven? Dyke heaven? 

28 eyes lock onto your cowering form, directly behind an unsuspecting Vi who waves, very lighthearted, very demure: meanwhile, war rages within you. The war of hormones and fertility and whore-ism—

“Hiiiiii—“

Vi’s so cute with her pink cheeks and slowly fading black streaked hair. Her pink is coming through, for sure! You should ask her if it’s natural. Seems to be so, truly, look at her roots! Barely even fried… 

Anything to distract you from the questioning looks being thrown your way from very attractive women. All 14 of them await your introduction and you’re really wishing Don Julio never spared your soul— 

“Who’s that?” 

A girl with freckles — lazily kicked back with a heavily tatted arm and beanie points at you, unsmiling. No one’s smiling, actually. You shrivel up and die right there. You’re only a shell now. Soulless. Your spirit’s flying around in search of a new muscular thigh to ride on. You’re forced to hold in a dreamy sigh at the memory: on your bed, both your thighs locked around Sevika’s one while Vi guided your hips from behind. 

“Don’t be rude! This is—“

Your eyes find Sevika’s while Vi fills in for you. Tinted red and trapped in delirium, but still Sev; her pupils scale all the way down your bare legs. Why does she look so good right now? Fuck your life! 

There’s a big ass bong in her heavily ringed hands. What’s up with her and compression shirts? It’s December for fucks sake! Is she not cold? You sure hope not because she looks mighty fucking good holy fuck— 

Find a distraction so you don’t hyperfixate on the invitation she’s so clearly throwing your way! Her lap is calling again, oh God, find something else quick quick quick! 

“—And this is Abby!” 

Oh. 

Distraction detected. Abby… Abigail Anderson! A complete and utter virginity-obsessed train wreck, but a hot one! Campus raves about her like they’re paid to do so; Everyone still gossips about what she did to that soccer player a few semesters back: took her virginity and ghosted her… and the streak continued until one of her bed posts smashed that same soccer player for revenge. Messy, messy. Sick work on everyone’s part. You love it!

Abby woulda really liked you if she’d got to you sooner. Vi and Sev touched you first. You’re probably all used up in her eyes. She’s gross for thinking like that. 

… Is it bad to say you’re kinda digging that? Just a tad! She looks so sweet and cozy where she sits on the lounge chair in a damn pink cashmere sweater! Who wears sweaters to a fucking rager! 

Abby stares at your legs with the same intensity as Sevika, “Nice to meet yo—“

“I’M A LESBIAN!” You shout. 

And the crowd goes silent. Bullet to the brain. Fuck Don Juilio! Sevika smiles, though. Abby laughs a little. “We all are, baby! Welcome to the winning team!” 

“HOOPLAH!” You exclaim, much louder this time. 

“… YEAH!” “WOO?” A few of their teammates whom you need so desperately attempt to support. Confused laughter explodes all around, and for the first time in your life, it’s not at you, but with you… you think! Just like that, their entire team relaxes in your presence… Don’t they? 

You love lesbianism! 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       22s

um… hey yall. one of my huzz keeps looking at me like she wants to get me pregnant but im sitting next to her friend… idk i think they’re friends they keep giving each other dirty looks… my hu keeps glaring at her whenever she touches or talks to me directly…. or am i tripping idk chile i might be contact high. maybe it’s bc she’s blonde idk i think ppl hate blondes irl 

anyway my sunshine is so cute when she’s drunk she’s like a big teddy bear…. i think. not gonna talk her punching some guy in the face earlier men deserve it. #MISANDRY

—

Vi’s eyes are on Sevika, but Sevika’s eyes are on Abby who has gotten very close to you on that couch, and her gaze is not inviting. 

No one would describe Sev as possessive. She’s the complete opposite; very free-spirited, go-with-the-wind-of-her-vape kinda energy. Hooking up with people that don’t dangle off her hip is one of her favorite pass-times. She’s okay with you being around, tagging along due to her phone never being blown with messages asking if she’s coming to pick you up for the party, or demanding to see her again, or begging for flowers, and she was thankful. You showed up to the party alone, got drunk alone, danced alone until both her and Vi searched to ensure you made it safely. You’re charming… in a weird way. 

Sevika finds it alarming how comfortable she’s become around you. She’ll admit it’s outta character — she’s not a people person, only clinging to those who’ve read and understood her deeply, and even then, it took ages to open up. She can’t help it, your eccentricity hoards space by force — you have your own little nerdy way of life but she likes that. Thinks it’s hot how little you care about being perceived… In some cases. There are moments where she can’t pinpoint where your mind wanders, and one of them is right fucking now. 

You’re pretty chill for the most part, but she knows her teammate isn’t, so why the fuck are the two so damn close? 

Abby’s naturally overbearing — your polar opposite, but you’re snuggled up like two peas in a pod: she’s all in your space, complimenting you, caressing your shoulder with care and ease because you’re allowing her to. Sevika’s track record isn’t the best — terrible, she’ll admit, but Abby’s could override the entire team’s history combined. She’s manipulative like that; lures people in with the scent of cherry blossoms and a smile that shines like crystals before devouring, staining her fangs in their blood. 

The two of them drifted apart some time ago, but it seems they’re the only ones aware of their covert friction. They challenge each other in silence on the field, in front of their team, even in front of Violet; Coach pinned it as petty jealousy of one another initially, but they’d both rather be shot dead than admit that. 

The scene plays out in front of a spectating but frazzled Vi. She adores both of her friends and loathes their disdain for each other, but when you put two domineering personalities together… this is what you get, she supposes. Their falling out was never grasped by her; one second they’re fine, the next they’re not, like an old, married couple. Sevika and Abby are usually able to keep their secret animosity under wraps so their coach refrains from questioning, but Coach isn’t here. Just bud and liquor and you. How could someone with so little understanding of human nature have this much control? She’s got no option but to respect it — what power you have. 

Abby’s eyes move in an instigating triangle; from you, to Vi, to disgustingly smug at Sevika, then back to you. What the hell is she playing at? Vi catches Sevika’s gaze for a blip, and Vi, with a silent plea, shakes her head no. 

Please don’t start. Please don’t just leave them be, she’s fine—

But her eyes shut in defeat when Sevika rises from her lone spot, jaw cinched tight when she approaches the two of you.  

“HEY-O, Amazonian lesbo!” You sing-song between chattering teeth and jumpy legs. Sevika can’t stop the smile that puffs her cheeks. Poor thing, you must be freezing. 

“Captain.” Abby greets with an arched brow and a tilt of her head while she pets the back of your neck. Incredibly mocking, and Sevika’s instantly annoyed. 

“‘Sup.” She greets short and stiff before redirecting back onto you, “Cold, babe?” 

“I’m freezing!” Sevika extends a hand, and you accept her warmth graciously, already being pulled from your seat, “Where the fucks the food!” 

“No food, hon. Vi has Ritz. Go eat.” 

“More like… Vi has the shitz!” You expel through wheezed laughter. Abby snorts from behind. 

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK NO I DON’T— “

You laugh all the way over to Vi, leaving Abby and Sevika to mentally strangle each other in silence. Abby kicks her feet on the small table in front of her, arms extended on the back of the couch. 

“She yours?” The blonde jerks her head in your direction, shoveling crackers down your throat while Vi rubs your back and observes them with caution. Abby sends her the toothiest grin. “Never seen you so in love. It's cute.” 

“I’m not fucking in love, I just met her,” Sevika attempts causality, shoulders raising in nonchalance with her hands shoved in her pockets. 

“So what’s the fuckin’ issue, babe?” 

Sevika hisses, “You as usual. Leave her the fuck alone.” 

“Or what." Abby smiles, and Sevika’s tempted to beat her face in, but she refrains; Vi will hate her til further notice. She throws her one last threatening glance before leaving Abby to obnoxiously laugh alone. When Sevika reaches you, she removes her jacket and wraps you in it. 

She bites down a laugh when you shove your nose in the sleeve and sniff. She guides you inside, Vi trailing close behind. 

—

“You seriously took a shit at a party?” You mock while you untie your shoes. 

“Shut the fuck up, no I didn’t,” Vi shuts — and locks oooolala — some random pedestrian’s bedroom door before leaning back against it with folded arms. The walk upstairs was hectic; if Sevika wasn’t there to lead you all the way up the stairs, you woulda been trampled. The later it gets, the wilder the party becomes and to be honest, it’s scary down there. Too many people throwing up and trying to crowd surf!

“Rate your first party, babe. You look like you had fun.” 

You fall onto the large, unmade mattress. You really hope cum doesn’t stick to your dress because don’t people fuck at parties? Or was that another movie myth? “I did… But I couldn’t find anywhere to pee and I think somebody was grilling hotdogs on the pool table—“

Your rambling diverts your attention, and Vi’s glad for it. Sevika’s seething from where she sits on the rolling chair across the room, pins Vi where she stands with scalding pupils. Sevika’s infuriating to deal with when she’s like this; faded and bothersome and jealous. 

“—Yeah, I dunno, very fun though, despite the death.” You conclude, and their staring contest breaks for a second. 

“THE WHAT—“ “HUH—“

“Yeah, crazy, I dunno if the cops were called or what but… yeah… OH, and I made a new friend!” 

Vi stiffens when Sevika grills lowly, “Oh, did ya? Who?” 

“Abby Anderson! Who'da thunk, right! She’s so nice and—“

“Abby, huh?” Sevika interrupts, eyes locked on an excited you. Vi silently begs you to shut up. 

You nod with enthusiasm, “Yeah! Y’know those rumors or whatever don’t do her justice, she’s funny as fuck! Not mean at all!”

Sevika scoffs silently. Pulls her vape out her sports bra. Hits it with an attitude unbeknownst to you. You’re really trying not to salivate. “That’s not your friend… you know that, right?” 

You glance at Vi in confusion, but she stares at the floor with a tapping foot, “What do you mean?” 

She finally sighs. Here we fucking go. 

“Exactly what I said.” 

“… m’really fucking confused, right now. Why don’t you think we’re friends —“

“Because you’re not.” Sevika finally snaps, and you wince. She watches you stammer with blades for eyes. Is she really mad at you right now? “She’s not your fucking friend. You’re getting too fuckin’ comfortable.”

“I dunno if we’re friends either, if we bein’ real,” She gestures between the two of you, and your entire rib cage shatters from the pulses in your chest. Water builds in your ducts. “We’re… what d’ya mean we’re not friends?” Your throat dries around tears that may or may not flow depending on her answer. 

She huffs, “I don’t think friends do what we do, baby. That’d be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it?” 

She’s playing with you. She has to be! You’ve grown so close in the past… 14 hours! Your sheets are proof of your inseparable bond! Sevika likes you just as much as you love Vi! She does she does they both do!

“I— I’m…”

“You’re what.”

“Sev, ease up, c’mon…” Vi interjects quietly, stares in displeasure. Defends you like a knight, and your tears finally fall. From overstimulation, from sadness, from gratitude? You don’t know but it’s too much. You wipe your face and salt soaks your wrist. 

Sevika finally looks at you, still upset, “Stop crying.” 

“I’m not crying, my eyes are peeing.”

“Jesus fucking—

Vi huffs pitifully before ushering to stand in between your legs and thumb to at your wet cheeks, every glide from her rings freezing your tears in place. Every cell in your body is prepared to confess their devotion to her. 

“Relax,” She hushes before her tone drops to a whisper, “She’s being fucking stupid right now, ignore her.”

“Shut up.” 

Vi ignores Sevika and pecks your nose before both your cheeks, and your heart explodes into some warm, gooey substance. Feels like slime. Pink, glittery slime. She plants two extra smooches on your forehead and chin just to be safe, and your smile stretches for miles in result. A fat one gets smacked onto your lips before they rest by your ear. The sludge in your chest instantly burns red hot and thin. 

“Let’s cheer her up.” She whispers so lowly you can hardly hear. 

“What’re we gonna do?” You say louder and Sevika snickers at your failed secrecy. Maybe she’s not upset anymore? 

“Think you can take dick?” She purrs on your throat. 

“Like… like, whatchu mean? Take a dick where—“

“The fuck are y’all talkin’ about?” Sevika husks around one last puff before laying her robotic spliff on the desk. 

Vi’s head whips to face Sevika, “I’m settin’ us up. Say thank you, Violet.”

“Fuck you, Violet.” Sevika sasses.

“You might if ya fuckin’ behave.” 

“Can I watch?” You snort ecstatically. 

2 pairs of blank stares are thrown your way. You cough awkwardly, “Uh, so about this dick thing—“

Vi rubs the bridge of your tickling nose with a comforting finger, “I wanna see how much you can take if you’re down.”

“I can take a lot mentally, so I’m sure the same translates physically.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Sevika wisps snarkily. 

… That hurt a little. All you dream about is taking strap! What happened to following your dreams? How could they ever question your aspirations? You look past Vi, right at Sevika.

You want her to like you again! You like being liked! If this is what it takes, then so be it! You’re never drinking again after tonight, so you might as well use your courage for good! You don’t even know what you’re saying but Sevika’s just as surprised as Vi… Maybe it’s working? You can’t really tell. 

“You can obliterate my, uh… um… my vagina walls as an apology… or something like that. Sorry for talking to Abby. I promise I didn’t think anything of it. I—ACHOO— sorry… I’ll take your dick, Sev. In my throat if ya wanna, or whatever. Coochie…” You shrug in suggestion, “Uhh, yeah. Do you accept my apology?”

Silence sets in the small space before Sevika explodes into laughter. Vi laughs so hard she falls face first on the bed, and you do stare at her ass. She’s wearing cargos! You sneeze again. 

Sevika wipes her eye, “Can I get that in writing?” 

“Write in this pussy… and whatnot?” 

“Make sure to say whatnot when you cum on me.” 

“Oh wow, okay, sure.” Whatever gets her going!

“Take that dress off. ‘S got Abby germs.” 

You smile… and sneeze. 

—

Life is great. Wow. Bless up for sure. You and Vi’s cooters are inches apart. You’re naked, she’s naked, and Sevika isn’t but she’s watching very closely from where she kneels at the edge of the bed and your thighs tremble from anxiety!

Your girlfriend’s fucking perfect; so scarred and strong and tatted and built. When you shakily peeled her tank off, almost-healed teeth marks rested in between her tits and trailed all the way down to her hip bones. Ouchie… You wanna do that to her!

Sex in porn can only train so much before you’re forced to get out and smash on your own. You’re a pro watcher, but in real life… You’re slacking, let’s say that, but neither Sev or Vi have made you feel bad about your clumsiness. You haven’t had the privilege to touch either of them due to their determination to teach; experiment on you for their own research, study you, but you hope to change that soon. Vi touches you like you’re married, and you wanna do the same; you don’t think she’s in love with you yet but she also could be. Her hands would be nowhere near the porn industry. They’re too delicate, not demanding or crude or evil — you’ve seen some crazy shit on the web, good heavens. Forever traumatized. 

Her hands are tender where they stroke your chest. She can probably feel your heart beating in her palms. Right through your titty meat, how embarrassing. 

Then she starts giggling like an angel call the fucking ambulance before you go into cardiac. 

“You seeing ghosts?” She coos. 

“Nope, just God.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” 

“Don’t have to. I’m dead already. Thanks, uhh, internet.” 

“Oh yeah? You’re dead?” 

“… Yup.” Your voice drops a heavy amount when she takes your limp hands in hers. She extends them up her torso until they rest over her breasts, pressing your hands down so you can squeeze. Aneurysm incoming it’s hitting in your brain—

“How’s that feel, Casper?” 

“… Oh, gee wiz!” You squeal. 

Vi cackles with her head thrown back, “You’re so fucking cute, I’m gonna bite you!” You laugh with her even though you’re on the brink of death for the 40th time tonight — someone save you, you’re begging! 

“I like how your hands feel.” 

“I like how your tits feel.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yup.” 

“Yup,” She snickers and leans down so your titties smash together, “Gimme a kiss.” 

Your lips pucker playfully, and she pecks them. Licks them a little and you grin. “I can’t wait to stretch you out,” Her voice melts in your ears and you shudder beneath her, “Gotta make sure you’re ready.” 

“Be honest,” you whisper, embarrassed, “Is it gonna hurt?” 

“You want it to?” 

Your eyes meet the wall, “… No comment…”

Sevika chuckles while Vi comforts, “You’ll be fine, baby. We gotchu, okay? We’ll take it easy and go from there.” 

“A-Are we about to scissor?” 

“Uh huh, you excited?” 

“Yes,” you groan. 

Sevika caresses your sweaty forehead and your heart soars so high that it splatters on the ceiling like a gunshot wound, “You wet enough? Need some head first?” 

“M’okay… wanna feel…” 

“Then ask her nicely,” Sevika nods towards a smirking Vi. Her head tilts, awaiting, and you’re instantly reminded of Abby. She did that whenever she patiently waited for your response to her curiosity. Thank God Sevika can't read minds. 

“Violet…”

“Yes, baby?” 

“Can I… can you, uh…”

What would a pornstar say what would a pornstar say 

“Want me to fuck you til you cum?” She hums on your cheek and your heart thrashes in your chest. 

“Yeah… want that.”

“Then ask me.”

“Violet…”

You feel her smile, “Yes, baby?”

“Can you fuck me until I cum, please?” 

She plants a doting kiss on your cheek before separating from you to sit on the mattress with her knees pointed towards the ceiling, “Course I can. Sit up, babe.” 

You follow like a klutz but you’re here and her pussy glistens right there and so does yours. It takes you a second to replicate her guidance, but you’re eventually comfortable; the two of you resting back on your palms, your legs spread far enough for Vi to sit comfortably in between, one leg crossed over yours. Your cooters are nearly high-fiving! You can see her clit jump! 

“Gonna go slow, okay? Just do what I do,” She whispers, and you nod. You’re trying really hard not to stare at her pussy but it’s right fucking there in all its glory! It’s right there! Will she let you eat it one day? Will Sevika—

Your brain screams bloody murder when Vi closes the space between your nethers. 

—

Sevika prides herself in being patient. 

When something is foreign to her, she waits. Regardless of how dire or stressful a situation becomes, she’s often able to resolve it with stealth. She takes her time to plan and organize because it holds her hectic life together, and if that’s lost, so is she. It’s in her nature to be observant. It gets her answers, solves the riddles that wrack in her mind with ease all because she watched and waited. 

That attribute could be the reason she allows you to remain a mystery. You waltzed into her life by accident and now she’s stuck wondering what it is you want from her, her best friend; a relationship? A dirty secret? It hasn’t been that long. You're still a stranger, after all. Call it an obsession; she still has trouble wrapping her head around what allures her to you. It’s a desire she has trouble describing. You're really, really weird, but somehow that makes you one of the most attractive people she’s ever met in her life. 

You being on the brink of your second orgasm while her best friend practically rides you isn’t what entrances Sevika. There’s something about your character; you’re so blunt and comfortable and trusting. She would never allow herself to be as unguarded with a stranger as you are. There’s something something something that she’s determined to pull from you, prick from your brain. 

Why are you really here?

Please, baby, oh fuck, yes —

Vi begs when she takes and you beg her to take and Sevika thinks you’re a match made in heaven. She watches the two of you close up, dangerously personal. How your urges force your bodies against each other; you push when Vi pulls and pulls when she pushes. Both your thighs are soaked with each other and Sevika would kill to be in between them. 

Structure. You and Vi are combative in your own right and Sevika mediates your tension. It’s perfect. You fit in between them so well, slid between them like butter. Why would anyone come in and jeopardize that?

Her spirit slams back into her body when a soft hand curls around her wrist; there’s barely any pressure, a bit insecure, and she knows you’re nervous. Your eyes are on her, the pleading in them almost louder than your exclamations of satisfaction. Are you still mad at me? 

For talking to Abby. Sevika should say yes — the ruthless part of her wants to so you’ll work harder, but she swallows it. The stare she gives you is hard, and your hand squeezes tighter on her. Sevika being mad makes you wetter, she can see it with every glisten between your legs. You look like you’re boutta cum again. 

Fucking Abby… Always prepared to wreck something that’s perfectly made for her. 

You were so quick to take both of them… Would that have been the case for Abby, too?

Okay, Sevie? 

She immediately softens at Vi’s breathless inquiry, and she nods. Keep going. 

Vi arches a brow with a suggestive smile. 

We’re gonna cum for you, baby. Talk us through it? 

Those eyes… Vi’s greatest weapon. How could Sevika ever deny her?

She never will, so she moves. Stands from the floor to climb in behind Vi because she’ll always be first and she’s mad at you; a vengeful hand encloses around her best friend’s throat while she whispers the filthiest shit in her ear. Calls her a slut before kissing her like she loves her. Tells her to fuck you harder. Show her who she belongs to. 

Sevika’s tongue gets loose when she finds your gaze. You’re a fucking mess; the glitter on your lids melt down your fluttery eyes like tears. Your pupils are so apologetic and blown and searching for acceptance but she ignores you, and she thinks you might cry but she wants you to. 

You want Abby so fucking bad? She’s right downstairs. Why would you waste your time up here? Obviously we don’t give you enough. 

Sevika only says it because Vi’s distracted by her own euphoria, eyes dislodged in her skull with drool rolling down her cheek from how good you’re fucking on her, but Sevika takes care of it with her tongue. She should be watching Vi, but she watches you, cautiously eyeing the two of them like a frilled rabbit. She’ll rip you to shreds if you give her the chance. Any sign of weakness and you’re hers to tear apart, just like that. Limb from limb. She craves you. 

Can’t take it, baby, ‘s so sensitive, Vi whimpers up at Sevika with her nails in your thigh, and Sevika kisses her forehead to soothe. Tells her it’s fine. Tells her to scoot over because she’s got you. 

Vi doesn’t go too far. Slides in right next to you, actually. Your legs shake and your fingers curl around the mussed blanket. Sevika crawls to you, and you flinch when her hands latch onto your thighs. Your eyes are the same, but frantic. Please, don’t hate me, please please please. Your little sneeze is the icing on the cake. 

Her grin is sinister. Excitement radiates off you. 

Vi kisses your cheek and slides a sneaky hand down your torso, past your tummy and hips, touches right where you need it most, and your jaw slacks when she spreads you open for Sevika. Vi nudges your cheek with her nose, gets you to face her so she can kiss you, all dazed out and sloppy. 

Such a good distraction. 

A thick finger breeches your walls without warning, and you squeal into Vi’s mouth while she rubs your clit to pacify. Sevika has learned you pretty well, she thinks; knows exactly where to press to get your thighs clamping down on her wrist. She moans when your tightness chokes her; so slippery and aching and desperate on the inside. It matches your exterior perfectly. Your pussy’s begging her to give it to you. Nice and hard. 

So she slides another one in; Vi can barely kiss you because you’re so loud so she tongues at your throat. Sevika knows you’re close; she can feel it, how hard you attempt to drain her, riding that edge. 

Gonna take this dick like a good slut when we get home? She purrs. 

Yes, Sevie, yes yes yes!

Sevika gathers spit in your mouth and it splashes all over cheeks and nose and mouth. She scoffs a laugh when your fingers lace through her slobber to greedily shove in your mouth, Atta girl, get me nice ‘n wet, feels real good, huh? Show me how much you love when I’m inside you. 

More thoughtless bouts of pleasure are forced from you before Vi presses an aiding hand on your tummy. Sevika’s entire forearm is drenched in your scent, body knotted up tight as you thrash and cry and scratch all over Vi until red streaks down the side of her. She licks your tears from your cheek while your head hangs off the edge of the mattress and all Sevika can think about is making you keep your promise; taking her deep in your throat, hot and snug while you choke and slobber all over her. 

They’re so hypnotized by you, the door opening hardly shakes them. 

“Well, well, well!” 

Everything stops… Well, except you, you’re still cumming… and Sevika’s still fucking you… and Vi hasn’t moved either. Maybe nothing stopped.

“Got all your dogs on a leash, don’tcha Cap?” Abby whistles from the door that was very much so locked. Abby’s seemingly unbothered by you on the brink of a second orgasm, your hand attempting to push Sevika’s body off yours, but Vi holds your wrist down. 

“Hiii. How’d ya get in?” Vi questions while she shushes you, and Abby dangles a key off her middle finger. “Ellie sent me to get a bong replacement!”

“You live here now?” Sevika demands in annoyance. Fucks into you deeper. Smirks when you start wailing when she hits that spongy spot. 

“I don’t. Ellie does. She just lets me in when she’s feelin’ lonely… You guys, too, evidently,” She gives you the filthiest stare, “Hey, dollface! Havin’ fun? I could hear you all the way down the hall!” 

“Oh, God, Sevie, ‘m cumming again!” 

“Yeah, ‘m sure you are,” Abby rasps and Vi giggles, “So, what, is she the team’s new communal pussy or somethin’?” 

Vi tuts, “No… we’re just showing her how to do it herself.” 

Abby squints skeptically, “… Riiight, right…” 

Vi doesn’t catch the look Abby throws at you, but Sevika does, and she almost chucks one of your shoes at her face. A hyena preying on the injured. She can hear the devilish cogs turning in the blonde’s head. 

“Don’t be like that, Abby, c’mon… friends in need?” 

Abby smiles, “In need alright—“

“A-Abb — Y?”

Abby takes that as an invitation to come a little closer. Too close for Sevika, but you don’t seem to mind, “Yeah, honey, I’m here. Big meanie Sev’s doin’ ya in right?” 

“Fuck yes—“

She hums scoffingly, “Uh huuuh, looks like it, make her proud—“

“Can you get the fuck out!” Sevika shouts, and you and Vi flinch. She sends Sevika a harsh glare. 

“Jesus, calm the fuck down! Look,” Abby points at your fucked-out expression, “She likes it. Gamer freaks love this typa shit. She probably manifests having orgies in her diary.” 

Sevika sighs in irritation and she pulls out before sitting back on her heels, silently taking in how your slick glues to her fingers, and you almost start sobbing but Vi comforts you. Kisses you quiet while she holds you close, whispers encouragement in your ear while you whimper. Abby takes the chance to ease in close to Sevika, right beside her, eyes gawking at her dripping fingers. 

“Look, Cap, ‘m not the one to judge, but,” She shrugs, whispers right in her ear, “to put it light, she’s a desperate fucking loser, and what I’ve learned is that they love any bit of attention they can get. Makes ‘em feel good. You shoulda seen her earlier. She was almost in my lap ‘n all I had to say was she looked nice.” 

Sevika scoffs, but she finally meets the eyes of her conniving teammate. She’s plotting; It’s in her smile. Abby nudges Sev’s arm with her own, “C’mon, let her have this. She’ll be a fucking vet in her little Discord servers. Make her a star.” 

“You fucking disgust me.” Sevika says vehemently. 

“Doesn’t look like it, Captain.” Abby scales down Sevika’s body and back up until she meets her eyes again. She’s wound up so tight and Abby’s drinking it all in. “C’mon, for old times sake.”

Abby nearly gets strangled right there. Old times sake: chasing girls together, fucking them together, whatever else they did that she wishes she could forget, but it’s her history just as much as it’s Abby’s. When Sevika denies her an answer, she snorts in annoyance before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, thigh right beside your head. 

“Hey, baby, can ya look at me?” You take direction like a dream when you’re fucked out, eyes teary and face warm to the touch. Abby’s convinced you’d do anything to get on her good side at that point. 

“Can you take some more? I think you can take some more,” Before she can even finish, you’re consenting, “Yeah, I know you can, such a sweet girl.” 

Vi shudders with you, eyes glossy where they watch her, and Abby smirks down at her, “You are, too, as always.” The blonde gets her blushing. 

She looks over to Sevika with a hand shielding her mouth. She whispers with a finger sneakily pointed at Vi, “I think your girl wants me, Cap. Still gonna kick me out?”

Sevika is prepared to say yes, but she catches Vi with her lip jutted, silently begging to let Abby stay while you tremble next to her. She exhales so hard it sounds like a snarl. Abby smiles. 

“Do some shit I don’t like and I’ll fuck you up,” Sevika threatens, and Abby rolls her eyes. Sevika should know that she’s the last person to try and intimidate. She loves that; she’ll simply have to up her riskiness. Her finger blindly points at Ellie’s messy dresser. “There's some crazy shit in there, Sevie...” 

Sevika sighs before standing tall to head to Ellie’s drawers. Her laundry isn’t even folded, just slung on top of the cheap wood, “‘m sure you’d know, fuckin’ dirtball.” 

“Don’t flirt with me.” Abby’s heat wafts onto Sevika and she knows she’s behind her. Before Sevika can reach for a drawer handle, her wrist gets submerged in cherry blossom and red fingernail polish. 

Her tongue loosens to cuss her teammate out, but Abby whispers before she can try, “Can’t leave evidence… Ellie’ll get mad at me…” 

Sevika’s frozen; pink lips enclose around her fingers that drip and soak and smell of you. Abby swirls her tongue around the length of them, sucks them clean for her. “She taste good?” Sevika hums, and Abby sucks greedily in approval. 

A tight moan rings from the bed and their eyes hunt for you and Vi. Abby gives Sevika one last kiss on the tips of her fingers. Vi’s on top of you with her hand gripped tight on your neck while she orders you where to touch. Your hand labors between her legs, sloshing deep in her wetness while she curses in your mouth. 

Abby’s sly; takes the leap while Sevika’s distracted to drop to her knees in front of her, fingers already latching onto the fabric of her leggings. She hisses when a braun hand tugs at her hair, redirecting her gaze upwards. 

Sevika’s breathes unsteadily. “You lock the door?” 

The blonde sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. Sevika’s grip tightens when Abby’s head shakes in denial. 

[pranabefall]

⠀⠀QINGXIN IN THE MOUNTAIN.⠀⠀⸺ ⠀⠀zhongli.

syn. while the divine war rages on, you find yourself entangled in the company of a wounded god and reservations or not, you don't have the heart to let someone die on your watch.

TW. ⸺ beta read, long oneshot like seriously it's over 14k, mentions of war and past death, seclusion and wounds. this work contains 18+ contents so minors, you know the drill, unprotected sex, half-dragon zhongli, reader has no gendered pronouns but has female parts, 4k words worth of smut guys get ready.

LOG. ⸺ this is another repost of this fic after my old account got deleted on accident. taken from my old blog lol, a buffer as i work on my current wip XD. this work has been marked mature for containing smut. readers below the age of 18 / ageless blogs and antis, do not interact.

“i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”

— PABLO NERUDA.

Curiosity , you learned, was a reckless maverick in every right. Your mother told you of its consequences, of the people who wandered too far from the safety of your village and the watchful eye of your deity, and she told you of their death and the disaster they reaped alongside it.

Curiosity was what cost you — and you knew , you knew better than to indulge in its traitorous little tug when you wake, the scent of petrichor in abundance and the chill of a rainstorm’s aftermath prickling your skin. 

“Forget about it.” you tell yourself when you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Forget about it.” you tell the reflection staring up at you, her brows furrowed with a familiar sternness. It scatters when you dip your hands into the basin, the icy water stinging your fingertips.

“Forget about it.” you breathe out as you lean against the doorframe of your small home, staring out at the expanse of green and the fog that had settled a few feet below.

Yet here you were , scaling down a mossy slope, your bare feet damp from the dew it trod over and your hair still messy from your sleep. You could dimly recall something the previous night between the rains, between the crash of thunder and the crackle of lightning. It was a sound too distinct and out of place in a storm, something akin to the beginnings of an earthquake before an unknown force cuts its life short.

Your head swivels to the side. You couldn’t see much past the mist save for what was in front of you and you clamber down with a little more prudence till the ground evens out a bit more and the screen before you dissipates. You could see nothing out of place, save for a few upturned trees and your shoulders slump. It was all for nothing , you realize and a tinier voice dares to whisper a spiteful little ‘dammit’ .

You turn, casting one last glance over the clearing, then make your way back uphill. It was a wasted attempt and as you stew in your own self-berating and disappointment, you almost miss the faint crackle behind you. It was just the wind , you reason. There was little cause for it to be anything else. What could possibly make its way up here ?

When you hear it a second time, you freeze, something cold jolting at your bones.

Well shit .

It doesn’t take too long to find the source, save for trudging through the mud and a few of the murkier parts past the tree line — but you find it by the time the sun shifts the barest fraction to the west..

“ Ah — ” was the most your throat could choke out as shock swallowed you whole, like ice water.

There is a trail of gold on the earth, and it leads up to the slumped form of a man, his robes stained with the same gilted shade and his breath leaving shallow puffs of air where he lay, motionless and seemingly dead.

Well — fucking — shit . You mind shudders, your thoughts screaming and splitting up against your head like some panicked beast. It was chaos at its core, it was the frenzied scrape of control.

You were no fool. The man before you, both massive in frame and presence, was one amongst the hundreds of those touched by divinity — god or not — whose names were uttered and praised amidst this war. There was nothing distinctly human about him; not his clothes, not the horns that curled atop his skull and the brown scales smattered across, not the ichor he bled out — nothing .

For a moment, or maybe more, you stare down at him, long and hard as you try to wrangle your rationality back and think of what move to make. You could not afford the trouble that comes with aiding a foreign being and the land you settled on could house any force hostile to the man at your feet. A shaky breath escapes, then another. You were trembling now, just a little, daring to take a step back, then one more.

Kill him , another voice snaps. It was twisted and its words breathed acrid revulsion. Get it over with, he’s not worth the pain.

You consider it, for the tiniest bit of a second till he lets out a shudder and shifts with tense shoulders, his grunts labored and streaked with muted agony — those darker thoughts quickly flatline to scattered anxiety and the hand that brushes the blade at your hip falls limp. Not now, perhaps . You could just leave him here, let nature run its course.

You could do that , you decide with a semblance of confidence.

Of course you could.

Of course .

Your shuffling comes to a stop and you're backtracking immediately, your pace holding an urgent bounce with every step. There is a feverish jerk to your movements when you settle beside him, and a storm of emotions raging in your chest. It does little to ease you — little does, these days — and you press up on his shoulders in an attempt to roll him over onto his back.

It happens so swiftly, a blur of gold and black that shadowed your periphery before you were slammed down with eyes like uncut cor lapis glaring down at you. You scramble, clawing at your neck, at the digits pressed up against your windpipe and your pulse and it beats faster and faster and faster . One tiny move and you’d be left for dead.

( A part of you is stunned — for even wounded and weakened from some unknown, unspoken battle, the quavering power within him seemed to beat strong. You feel a mix of thrilled awe and terror turn in your stomach. )

His gaze hardly falters, roving at your form before his grasp on you releases and he mutters something akin to an apology, collapsing again. His eyes were still open, watching you beneath a haze of pain and deliriousness, stiffening now and then when you so much as move. The strength he showed, no matter how small it was, is gone and there is the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath the stripped layers of stone.

Your instincts scream at you to run yet you stay rooted in place, coming to sit up and hover by his side. In the end, your own concern and pity won out. “Y-you’re wounded.” you try to reason, only to be met with a grunt. You find yourself wincing as you stutter over your words, your voice hoarse from months of disuse. “Please, l-let me help. My h-home is c-close b-by.” 

Feeble , you chide yourself amidst it all, old, old regrets tearing at your mind and clawing at your thoughts. You shut your eyes, letting your muscles relax and you try again.

Tugging at his arm serves to be fruitless. He was too large for you to carry over and your first attempt gives that away well enough. The gold in his veins seems to dim with the passage of time and you fear his life slipping away under your watch. “I n-need you to w-walk…” your plea is almost caught in your throat and you have to wrench it out to let it be heard. He tilts his head your way. “You’re too h-heavy…” you try to reason.

Another grunt sounds out and thankfully , his form rises. You’re quick to move to his side, supporting him against your shoulder, the thrum of elemental energy strong beneath your hold. He practically oozed it and it feels like what the storm felt like — the trembling earth itself.

You don’t say much after that, leading him back to your home, your hand and clothes staining a bright gold.

Perhaps your house would have been a little cleaner had you known you’d have a guest over. When you lead the the being inside, you scan the small space with a sense of perplexity, hoping he wouldn’t scrutinize the sight too much ( your mother always seemed to emphasize the need for a well kept living space — should she see you now, you know she’d be rolling in her grave with indignity ).

He stumbles a little, letting out a guttural snarl and you flinch, almost dropping his weight onto the floor when you feel claws close down on your arm and press against your scarred skin. You hiss softly and he gives a little jolt, his hold on you releasing, leaving little but the crumpled sleeve of your tunic behind. 

“How much — ” he cannot finish the sentence, his nose wrinkling up and he almost looks a little feral underneath the light. 

“Just a l-little more.” you assure, cracking the barest of smiles as you cross the room and lay him down on your bedroll. He was tall enough as is, and you think his horns would scrape up against the ceiling of this house should he stand upright. 

The bedroll itself was pathetically small beneath him, but you couldn’t throw a fuss about it, working away at his clothes in relative silence, steeling yourself up in preparation for the worst. 

The clasps and the belts and sashes are undone by nimble fingers and as the layers peel away, you come to a stop. It was not a pretty sight, his wounds, the clawed lacerations criss crossing across his torso like patchwork. You doubt you could salvage much and you almost give up at the spot, pulling away the rest of his clothing. The worst one splits across his chest and you look to the side, battling out the vertigo and the nausea threatening to creep up. 

He’d have been dead at this point, had the blood in his veins be that of a mortal’s and not something inhuman. In some convoluted sense, he was lucky.

Stop cowering , you hiss internally. Pull yourself together .

The sound of rustling clothes is all you could hear after, followed by the clinking of metal and the sharp tang of alcohol. Your movements are almost robotic — and you had done this plenty of times before, cleaning the wounds of children and soldiers. But this wasn’t home and you doubt any soothing words would stoke at the feelings of a god. 

When you return to his side, his forehead is damp with sweat.

“ Shit — ”

His skin was warm . Could an immortal being fall ill? Was that even a possibility?

“I will be fine.” he rasps out and you jump, snapping his way as you hold the clothes closer to your chest in defense. He turns his head, peering at you and you think you see a stubborn glimmer beneath the usual masked strain and impassivity. “My wounds will heal in time…I…only seek shelter till they do…”

“Absolutely n-not.” you reply, splaying your palm out on his stomach to keep him still as you clean away the dirt and dried blood. The shallower wounds were slowly closing up again. “You’re in no state to argue right now.”

His mouth twitches and there is a momentary flash of teeth. You try not to let it frazzle you as much despite his initial protest, your movements slowing to a more delicate pace as you bathe the worst of his lesions till you were satisfied with the lack of dirt caking his body. “It seems choice no longer holds to be a luxury.” he utters under his breath.

“No.” you agree. “It does not.”

He falls silent, a petulant turn on his lips. “Are you a healer?” he asks. You bow down, unwinding the linen wraps you had stored away.

“My mother was.” you finally admit, your posture straightening. “I learned what I could from her to aid the people in my village. I never studied medicine formally, however…” you trail off. Talking seems to grow a little easier the more you speak. The hoarseness was slowly giving way and your stuttering grew less frequent.

“And I take it you shall try to help me as you do with any other human?” there was a sardonic sort of amusement in his tone that has you bristling. “Your medicines and methods will not work on an Adeptus. Put your tools away, you only waste your time.

“Adeptus…so you hail from the settlement south of Mt. Tianheng?”

“You’re ignoring my words,” he accuses. You bat your lashes at him innocently.

“Small talk.” you shrug. “You can tell me everything you want after I’m done tending to you.” you meet his gaze, tumultuous gold melded with an orange-red. He narrows his eyes, his unfocused vision scanning you, then the house, then at the bandages you held before he leans his head back with a defeated sigh.

By the time you conclude your task, he has fallen unconscious, his breathing deep and his heartbeat unnaturally slow for a human. You look down at your ruined clothing, at the stains at the hem of your tunic and at the sleeves and you hope you can salvage what you can from this, moving on to change out of them and fish out a cleaner pair of clothes. 

The smell of petrichor still persists through the day, the sky brewing with the makings of a new storm. Perhaps you had lost track of time and the monsoons were sitting in sooner than expected and you move on to salvage whatever you’d left outside to dry and board your windows up for the incoming onslaught.

The man wakes when night falls, form set aglow against the dim lamp light. 

“Let’s change your bandages.” you offer. He doesn’t protest this time, painfully sitting himself up with gritted teeth as you get back to work. His skin still radiates that uncomfortable temperature as you press up against it. You might need to get a wet rag ready lest he overheats

He speaks after the silence persists. “You shouldn’t see me like this.” it comes out as a whisper so soft, you almost miss it. His face however holds a distant look, with a hint of disappointment lurking within and you tug at the linen a little harder. You’ve heard that before, from the lips of men and women who had too much to hold and little weakness to show. You wonder what it would entail for a warrior, or a being whose years spanned farther than yours, to sink as low before a stranger.

It must be hard.

“We all get hurt sometimes.” you smile, hoping to lighten the air with a bit of humor ( it was getting too heavy, the air in the room ). “I’ve lost count of the number of times I've hit my head…and you think I'd be a little more cautious given my studies…”

A poor joke stays a poor joke no matter the delivery ( and yours was weak to begin with ). He does not say or do much, save for a slight twitch in his jaw and an unamused tilt in his head. You shrink back, skittishly throwing his used bandages aside in favor of new ones with a hasty “Nevermind.” on your tongue. 

“Do you truely not know who I am?” he asks, his touch skimming the sheets absently. You shake your head, confusion and that damned curiosity slowly lurking and clawing its way to the light. You want to stamp the ugly feeling down and out of sight. You try to. It does not disappear. He continues, “What of the civilization south of Tianheng?”

A shrug was the most you could manage. You guess that was where he hails from. “I know it’s the domain of a geo god, and that beings touched by longevity, ally beside him. “My old home is far, however, and our god hid us away from the world…my knowledge on this is sparse.” 

You’re almost ashamed to admit it, to acknowledge the bubble you had grown within, accepting the suffering of the men and women who ventured out and returned with broken bodies you and your mother had to fix. You weren’t sure what sort of terrible dichotomy it was, to live in ignorance amidst blatant horror and blood, and you don’t wish to return to it.

He seems to take this in, his eyes training up at the ceiling, then upon you with a lidded stare. “Who was your god?”

The icy set to your jaw was a hint he picks up on and he does not further the topic.

“...I am from there…from Liyue.” he says instead, in recollection of your previous question. The settlement was a distance from here, a few days worth of journeying by cart and hardly worth the risk of the travel with the demons that lurk and the gods that warred.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

His lips curl again, but it’s less of a grimace and more of a smile, his fangs tucked away to show a visage less feral, less dangerous. You find yourself relaxing a bit more unconsciously, seemingly charmed by this simple action ( and the thought almost scares you ). “What is your name, mortal?”

Ah, he wasn’t going to make this easy. You’re tempted to tug on his bandages a little harder if only to spite him.

You don’t reply till you are done with your chore and you lean back, massaging your stiff fingers. Your name slips out of your lips then, the action feeling natural in defiance of the years spent hardly having a friendly face within your home, save the occasional traveler. The adeptus seems satisfied. “You may call me Zhongli.” he replies, his voice softer, raspier.

“Zhongli.” you repeat. Zhongli .

There is a rustle of fabric and his fingertips brush against yours, the touch nearly having your arm lurch back in muted shock. He seems unphased but you — you watch a soft light shimmer through the dimness of your walls. When it fades, a single visage of gold stares back.

“It’s your reward. For aiding me.” there is a medley of pride and contentment and you liken it to that of a child offering a messily put together gift. Gold is coveted by most, but has little use here, and you have little use for it. But the gift is still cupped within your hands and you hold it as if it is something precious.

( Oh, your heart trembled just a bit and you feel a lump grow in your throat, bigger and bigger till you dip your head down out of his line of sight. )

His eyes bear down on you harder, set aglow and unyielding.

You smile to hide your trembling frame, thoughts revolting within your mind like the beat of war drums with a mix of unease and appreciation. Yet, who were you to question Zhongli’s secrets?

Maybe hypocrisy runs deeper in your blood than you initially assumed.

Mist dances at your fingertips.

It weaves and spreads and obscures the light and the woods around you and you run through blindly as the skin beneath your feet tears and the chill of the night clings to your skin and leaves behind dew and sweat.

You could see nothing; nothing save the pale glow of the moon above you as it tries to break through the barrier and light your way. It cannot, for Balam’s magic conjures obscurity, and obscurity was worshiped.

But you were human and you were curious and the voice that called your name was so familiar and warm and you wanted to weep and run towards it. The mist will not stop your folly and you will keep running to appease that growing thirst. In the end it will cost you.

The sound of your footsteps cease. The mist thins out and at the end of the veil, you poke your head out for the first time to witness the world outside. A set of teeth, white and sharp greet you. Then another and another, till the darkness itself glows as it does beneath the moonlight.

You hear her voice. It comes from the open maw.

The demons spot you and you run again, feeling their jaws clamp down and tear through muscle and bone and you scream and scream and scream at the white hot agony and the very feeling of your nerves set aflame before they numb.

Your curiosity cost you.

You wake to your fingers clawing at your shoulder with labored gasps and Zhongli panting, his fingers gripping at the sheets of the bedroll and his brow furrowed. You blink away the sleep in your eyes and tug the blanket off of your shoulders, shakily making your way to his side. His skin was hot again and panic lights in your chest, like the incoming winter.

“Fuck — it’s gotten worse.” you mumble a few more expletives as you stumble out to collect some more water and the few mistflower corollas you had stored away within your cabinets, hoping the elemental energy in them hadn’t dissipated completely. Setting the bucket down by his bedside with the corollas nestled within, you hiss at the cold pricking your palms and the frostbite coming to form.

Never mind that! The fucking adeptus is going to melt .

Oh my, thank you for pointing out the obvious! 

The cloth bath was set to a near feverish pace as you feel him twitch and convulse through the chills wracking his body. “Hot — ” he groans.

“It’s the fever.” you mutter, tugging his pants down, your eyes unconsciously trailing down the slope of his waist and dip of pelvis, then avert your eyes before you could see any more, face flushed whilst a cloth was thrown onto his hips to spare him some decency. “You need to cool down…please, stay still.”

His hand comes to grip your arm and the dormant strength within it, one etched into his very being, was frightening. The adeptus’ sights were set upon you, the fever-addled state of his blowing his pupils out till only a thin ring of gold remains, shining through the light of the oil lamp, brighter and brighter. You pull away and rest your free hand on his with a soothing squeeze. 

“You will be okay.” you assure. “It will come to pass soon enough. Let me take care of you for now.” You coax him to stay still as you continue the cloth bath, wiping away at his clammy skin while fatigue continues to weigh down on your shoulders and tug at your eyes. “I know you’re hiding something…and if you…if you’re one of the gods, then you must live. You’ll have people waiting for you…they need you, at a time like this.”

He lets out a weak exhale, shakily sitting himself up with sudden urgency. “ Liyue… ” he whispers, gait faltering and you steady him as he leans into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You struggle to push him back down atop the bedroll, his breaths growing pained with the passing seconds. 

“Liyue.” you nod and repeat. “You need to go back soon, don’t you? You’ll have to heal first, and for that, you must rest.” The cloth is pressed against his temple now, wiping away sweat all while the smell of petrichor grows stronger. The searing temperature hasn’t subsided and hopelessness stirs inside, an ugly feeling, a familiar feeling ( it was worse than your curiosity — it always was ).

Zhongli leans into your touch, his fingers tangling against yours. “ Stay… ” he whispers. You cease your movement as his body shifts and presses against your lap. “Stay….” he repeats.

“I…I’ll stay.” you slump in defeat, resting his head on your lap. Lightning flashes outside your window and the walls seem to shake as the rain comes pelting down. You continue the bath, listening to a leaky spot in your roof and the incessant downpour rattling against the tiles. Zhongli seems to still, his breaths still weighed down by that terrible heaviness.

The rain continues. His fever grows worse.

Then the pattering slows down, and the flush on his skin comes to cool. By the time the rains stop, his fever breaks and you lean against the wall of your home, shutting your eyes as you nearly weep, your worries allayed.

Morax was the first to wake in the early hours of the morning, the scent of petrichor pervading his senses followed by the faint lull of jasmine. Then comes the warmth and the softness, one his claws unconsciously dig into with a groan shuddering out of his chest.

It was you , slumped against the wall, lost in your own dreams and too tired to notice and the sight makes him swell with a conflicting mess of emotion. Then comes the pain, the aftermath of his fever coming to tear at him, at his limbs and his tendons till he ceases his stubborn movement and lets his body fall slack.

He does not understand your intent, but the faint memory of that familiar care against a muddled haze stills his tongue and his suspicion. Your muffled words, your hand in his, everything, blurred away yet so clear.

Humans were strange, so fragile, so determined…

“Fool…” he murmurs. The last of his strength is used to draw the blanket over your shoulders. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Sleep calls him again, and Morax shuts his eyes.

The jasmine lingers, stronger than most. He lets it swallow him whole.

You come to realize how much you hated it, the loneliness.

Your home was far removed from civilization, settled between regions  and away from main travel ways that weren’t blocked or destroyed. The quiet of your house was nothing like the bustle of the town you hailed from and the chaos that accompanies the stalls in the early mornings. The most noise that encloses your small plot of land were the local wildlife, the creaks and groans of wood born against strong winds and the weight of snow and the distant battles fought over the horizon.

During arbitrary moments of your routine, you question why Zhongli landed here of all places, in the midst of nowhere. You wonder if this is some grand scheme or punishment for your past mistakes and when you feel your curiosity dare to skitter forth and poke more holes into your blind acceptance, you drive it away with an angry hiss.

He is not an unwelcome guest, even if he holds a sense of urgency at times and a well kept secret whose nature you suspect . It’s almost comforting, no matter how contrived it seems, listening to him speak of an obscure plant or hearing his heavy footfalls a few days after his arrival. 

How desperate are you? The bitter pride in your heart speaks up, and it’s seedy and unhappy as you straighten out the drying sheets over the heated slab. Where is your self preservation? Your brain cells? You’re smarter than this you fool —

“Is something wrong?”

Zhongli’s voice snaps you out of your reverie and you start, nearly dropping your laundry on the grass.

“Nothing!” and it is a weak save on your part as you straighten the worn down basket to move to an empty patch of stone, ducking under to check the state of the flaming flowers underneath. His hands come to rest on the surface and he lets out a soft exhale, his eyes slipping shut in a seeming moment of peace. “You should be resting.” you remind him.

“I believe I'm past the need for excessive bedrest.” he intones with an amused lilt. “Do you need help? It is partly my fault you have far more work to sort through.” He wasn’t lying. What little linen you had was used up to change the sheets on your bedroll before his fever broke. You had little clue how illness amongst higher beings were treated, but simply washing the contaminated cloth was the best option you had on your for now.

Ah, sometimes you regret not moving closer to a town.

Your reply was short, when you notice the silence being drawn out for a little too long. “That does not mean you should strain yourself. The less of a load you place on yourself, the faster you will heal. I’m sure you are needed back at your colony. The war is far from over.”

The comment seems to tug at his emotions, a stern moroseness settling on his face. “That is true…but I trust my fellow adepti to hold the lines in my absence.” you bend over to collect another sheet from the basket, the hair at the back of your neck prickling when he moves behind you. “Even so, I should hasten my return.”

“Then — ” The sheet is snatched from your hands and you watch Zhongli step beside an unused slab to lay it across the surface, a mischievous smile touching his lips. “Oi!” you snap, reaching out to grab it.

“However,” he continues, ignoring your protest with a look of innocent serenity. You want to squawk, to stamp your foot down childishly and you almost do, your movements stilled by you clenching your fist to curb it. “I’ve fought battles with wounds far worse and won. Menial chores are hardly a labor and if it means aiding you then I shall take it.”

You let out a groan in defeat and push the basket between the two of you. Zhongli was preening in his small victory, setting the clothes out to dry with relative ease. “Guests shouldn’t partake in chores like these.” you repeat the line your mother had uttered so many times, one amongst many of her favorite maxims. 

He watches you from his spot behind the stone slab, a contemplative haze clouding his hues. “I simply return the favor. It is the nature of a contract, to balance out what is given with due compensation.” 

He isn’t going to let up, is he?

“Fine, fine…you can help me collect a few mist flowers later.” you concede.

“What do you need them for?” he asks, collecting your laundry basket as you kneel upon the grass, blowing some air into a patch. One of the flowers is set alight and you sigh, letting them burn awhile as you feel your fingers retain a little more warmth in them. 

“Preservation…I use them to make my herbs and food last a little longer…it’s not easy, coming across certain ingredients for a decent meal…” You let out a dry chuckle at that, which melts away into a mildly sheepish one. Even if you bear a slight annoyance to your choice of settlement, and even with the debilitating isolation that came with it — it was still home and it was still safer than most.

Zhongli takes this in, a hand resting against his chin. “I see…cooking is not a part of my skill set…unfortunately. But a friend of mine intends on relaying an old recipe of his should the war end soon. Perhaps I could pass it on to you, if you don’t mind it.”

It was an oddly sweet gesture coming from him and you hum, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you consider it. That also meant opening a tiny window of opportunity; a chance that you may see Zhongli again. The thought stirs a clash of emotion, of fear and of excitement and dare you say it, hope and it feels warm and cold and all sorts of things at once. “I’d like that…granted you don’t accidentally poison me.” 

He feigns annoyance as his head tilts to the side, quietly regarding you. “You overestimate my inadequacy. The last time I did partake in the culinary arts, the worst outcome was an offhand crystallize reaction and a burnt stove.” he pauses. “Besides, my skill in brewing tea is decent.”

Oh Gods —

“I’m just being cautious.” you laugh a little louder at that, holding up your hands in defense. “Dear Lords though…I hope that friend of yours is prepared then. You might turn out to be a genius in cuisine or a hopeless case.”

“Then I hope for the former.”

You grin, hanging up the last of your clothes. “If you turn out decent…then I wouldn’t mind sharing some of the recipes passed down to me. I couldn’t indulge myself in them as much, but i hope you may come to like them.”

Something in Zhongli’s eyes softens and he nods. “And I would like that in turn…” he utters slowly, watching you clear away any dry branches and grass close by. His fingers absently brush over his torso, where the bandages stay wrapped around him. You catch the subtle purse of his lips and the twinge in his jaw. “Do not be concerned…” he snaps up to meet your worried face. “I am fine.”

“...Right.” you knew it wasn’t wholly a lie. Zhongli proved to be a quick healer, perhaps a trait passed down by his inhuman lineage. But these displays of vulnerability only played into the damning knowledge you knew before; of the hidden fragility the gods held. “Come on…I think it’s time we get those bandages changed.”

Zhongli smiles but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Another secret , you think sadly, taking his hand as you lead him inside, taking in the momentary warmth he held even if his skin didn’t quite feel like skin or that they glowed a bit too bright between the cracks of your fingers.

You don’t ask him to collect the mist flower corollas again, staying at home with him with some tea set at the table for him to sip on while you inspect his lacerations. There was some idle chatter over dinner and Zhongli spoke a little more about his home.

“You’re going to leave tonight, aren’t you?” you ask suddenly, your voice soft. His words die out and you try to still the sharp edged pain in your chest. It refuses to fade and you accept the growing weight with an unwilling gait.

“Yes.” he whispers, setting his cup down and he looks ashamed.

“Then go.” you mumble. He opens his mouth again but you hold up a hand. “I…I know your name is not really Zhongli…it’s not is it?” His silence was damning and you finally piece it together, the knowledge you learned from your village and from your travels, no matter how meager, painting a slow picture in broad strokes.

The stories depict Morax to be more of a beast and less of a man. You would have glossed over it as well,expecting a dragon instead of the visage of a handsome stranger.

“I take it you’ve come to a conclusion.” he muses, looking a little apologetic, a little ashamed. “I never intended on deceit but the nature of our meeting called for it.”

“You were afraid I was going to kill you?” you guess. Zhongli — Morax laughs and shakes his head.

“Even in my weakened state, you would have been incapable of it.” well damn . “I feared someone of greater power would catch wind of talk of a wounded god…but given your lifestyle, they held no merit. I apologize though…I know you may have suspected a while.”

Morax smiles and you try not to battle the disbelief that a good sat across you, eating your food and drinking your tea. “However, I have a question to ask you.” 

A pause

“What became of your deity?”

Your breath seizes and you meet his gaze. His stare seems to hold so much more weight to it and you look down. Your old god was a memory you sought to bury away well out of sight. Recollecting them only brought in a bitter taste and a dull ache and Morax notices it. “That’s a story for another day.” you finally manage out after some deliberation. Your tea has gone cold by the time you take another sip out of it, the air feeling heavier again. You wrinkle your nose at the taste.

He nods. “Then I will return and pay my debt in whole as well.” he decides. “Your kindness is one I shall remember, little one.” You hate how a part of you melts into this buttery, weak mess and when he smiles, you hate how it’s so easy to feel yourself tear at the seams, to beg him to stay a little longer. “Thank you.”

He was gone the next morning, a fresh batch of mist flower corollas left behind in an earthen pot alongside a delicate flower preserved in amber.  

“Good riddance.” you tell yourself, the words feeling forced.

You will miss him, you think.

He returns three months later, or maybe it was more. Time was easy to lose track of and the seasons were all you had to know of a passing year. By the time he arrived, the last remnants of winter had receded and you found yourself in the midst of spring, restocking your stores and setting soup to boil in the hearth. 

Should I bow? You think when he appears at your doorstep. Extend a greeting? Address him by his title? Your great eminence…no that sounds pretentious… You reminisce about your old customs, of the times you spent watching your mother lay out scented flowers and fruits at the feet of your deity during festivals or during victory feasts. Morax however, steps inside with a smile in greeting, his hand coming to tuck some stray hair out of your face.

Then comes the deja vu. 

You question why his arrivals were always timed on days when your home was a mess.

“Wait! We can talk outside.” saving the last few traces of your dignity is all you had in mind as you blockade the entrance. It would hardly do any good, you realize then; he was tall and he was far bigger and when he stops with a puzzled look and scans the room and the traces of stalks and unswept and unused parts of the herbs you were sifting through, a glint of understanding flashes in his eyes and he steps back.

You want to sink into the ground with the traces and remainders of you. Oblivion seemed a tempting option with the way your face burned and your heart hammers at a pace nearly hard to keep up with.

“My apologies.” he utters, letting you lead him outside. He does not seem as bothered or flustered, thankfully; nor does he pry as he erects a few makeshift seats sculpted from geo and sits himself down alongside you with a soft sigh on his lips. “I wish we could have met sooner,” he admits.

“Is that so? It’s hard to believe you’d bother…” you hum with a shy dip of your head. Morax considers this.

“Did you not ask for it?”

“I did…but I accepted the possibility of you not returning.” you cease for a second, recalling your promise to give him the answer he sought. It felt like a cheap trick, back then and it still does now, of you running away as you always did. “I'm glad you came back though…it was nice having someone around to speak to.”

Moax looks pleased with this. “I simply find your company enjoyable.” you feel a stirring in your stomach when he says that, and it feels like a wonderful sort of sweetness, like honey. “Even if our first few days spent together lacked any delicacy in approach.”

“You were quite stubborn.” you admit.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he agrees. You snicker.

“I wouldn’t blame you though. Even I had a hard time staying still when bedrest was forced upon me…how have you been?” your fingers slot together as you pull your knees closer to your chest, your cheek resting against your thigh as you watch the scenery in the distance. The mist had abated, just a bit and you could see the copse of trees expanding then scattering as the plains began. 

Morax exhales. “As I’ve always been.”

“Stubborn?”

“ Busy .” he corrects, flashing you a look of warning. You grin innocently. “The war has come to a temporary standstill. Only smaller battles seem to keep up…with the weaker gods mostly weeded out, planning our next move is of importance. I only have a few hours to spare now before I leave for Liyue.”

“Oh…” you take this in. Perhaps this was a sign of the war slowly coming to a close. Maybe during your time, if you were lucky enough, or in another hundred years or so. “Then…tell me about Liyue.”

Morax raises a brow but he smiles, humoring your question. “What would you like to know?”

“Plant life? What’s it like there?” you supply, leaning forward in quiet anticipation.

He chuckles. “Not of the people? Or its history?” he asks.

“You can tell me that too!”

He hums, his gaze softening. “It’s not uncommon to see mountains in Liyue,” he admits. “To say our weather has a stark contrast in the plains and the peaks would be an understatement. Juehyun Karst, the realm of the adepti is pleasantly cool most of the time, but the plains are hot and humid. That being said, our flora seems to take on this diversity as well…”

He tells you about the yellow sand bearer and the gold ginkgo trees that spot Liyue’s landscape, of the horsetail that covets the marshes and the reclusive glaze lilies that grow within the terraces. He tells you about the silk flowers nestled amidst the red bushes, always found in pairs and the violet grass sprouting forth off of cliffs. And he tells you of the qingxins that turned away from the warmth of the plains and grew in the distant peaks, looking down upon Liyue as a whole.

There was a sort of magic, listening to Morax speak of his nation with a layer of fondness and sadness. 

“Maybe when the war ends, I’ll visit. I think I'd like to start a garden some time.” you hum, surveying the empty patches of land in front of you. It would be nice to have a few more flowers around to brighten up the monotony you have grown accustomed to. His expression shifts, a brighter shine lighting up his eyes.

“You could stay there if you wish.” Disbelief rattles through your ribs and it steals your breath and pushes against your lungs. You fall silent, ceasing the anxious play with your clothes. “I could find a place for you amidst my people…would you like that?”

There was disbelief, yes, and a stutter in your words, but there is also the pang of appreciation and the tingle at your fingertips. However cold dread settles down ( for it is an old bedmate ) and Morax seems to catch on. “Have I misspoken in any way?” he questions, his hooded gaze appraising. 

You jerk your head. He had it all wrong and the last thing you need is a messy misunderstanding to fall into your pile of terrible mistakes. “No, no…I don’t think I'm ready to return to a land ruled by a god…or even around so many people…not yet…” you couldn’t bring yourself to word it out and it shames you. You are an adult. You needed to speak like one.

There is a faint brush on your cheek, the barest hint of a touch and when you look up, you see the suspicion he holds paired with concern. You want to shrink back, make yourself smaller, unknowable, something you were before he came along and made you care and vie after company and something as simple as touch.

“I assume it has something to do with your old settlement?” he asks.

You nod.

“We were hidden behind our god’s mist and illusions…our people were cut off from the rest of the world save a few soldiers and those who joined our god in battle. My mother would accompany them sometimes…she’d tell me about the world outside and we promised to visit a lake just a short walk from the barrier…” you hold out your hands, trying to grasp the words she had tattered. “She called it starlight on earth…or…something like a mirror clearer than any metal she’d seen. I wanted to go, but we were not allowed to leave.”

“You were not?” Morax asks. He leans in, listening closer.

“We were not.” you affirm softly. “Or god never spoke it…but we knew. They talked about demons lurking out and we were scared. One day…I couldn’t find her amidst the returning line of soldiers she left with…I did later…and I couldn’t even stand to look at the state she was in.” you stare ahead, the weight of his gaze resting even harder now. “I don’t know why…if it was grief or curiosity or a mix of both…but I thought I heard her voice one day…calling out to me. And I knew it was a trap, but I ran towards it, out of the forest, and the mist…”

You swallow hard. You felt cold. Cold all over, like that night, where the silence was unsettling and the sound of your name was a taunting whisper. Your mother, it was your mother, rigid at some times with her own rough edges and flaws, but loving for the most part. Your mother — and it was an old hurt you had locked in a box a long time ago, that time had weathered down till it was the embers scraped to the side of the charcoal pit.

“They were right…my deity warded off those things that attacked me…but they were bleeding everywhere . Balam was strong , but as a god…I doubt they held much in par to some of the others who warred out there…” Like you , you almost add. “They were weakened…unfit to fight in a state like that and we tried what we could. The wounds didn’t heal as we thought they should. I was banished for endangering their life and as I traveled…I heard of Balam’s passing in the hands of an invading god.”

“...and now, I'm here.” you finish, wryness coating every syllable. You wished your apathy was more than a weak front to bury away the stab in your heart; you wish you could be stronger than the coward you are. Morax shuts his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest.

He looks a little more like the god you were told about; sharp, pragmatic, with a presence that looms over most. “If there was a law that stated so, that forbade stepping out of your deity’s territory, then yes, you have committed a wrong. I have heard tell of Balam, whispers of their whereabouts and they did try to protect your people from a harsher way of life…” 

Ah, so that was his response. You wilt a little, feeling a mix of fury and defeat, at Morax, at the gods, at this war and at your own childish stupidity and audacity to even dare to feel this way. “I see…” you mumble. Morax holds up a hand, cutting you off. The words die in your throat faster than embers in snow.

“But,” he behind and his expression pulls into something gentler, lacking the initial rigid sternness it held. “Demons are still a force to be reckoned with. Even my adepti struggle with stifling down their noxious presence, whether it be the weight of karma or a disparity in power itself.”

Coherency is now a lost subject.

“I doubt you could have resisted its influence and Balam knew of the battle they would throw themselves into. Your god was willing to make that sacrifice, something of a rare sight amongst a few of the divine. Remember this well.”

A lump grows in your throat. It’s not an unwelcome one, quietly easing the nerves that crackled and frazzled beyond possible repair. You look down at your hands and your eyes slip shut as you take his words in, bit by bit. Balam was a god who, while distant within the front lines of battle, still loved their people.

It’s ironic how the gods can be capable of human sentiment and human error. 

“Thank you, Morax.” you mutter. “I needed that.”

“The bitter truth, or the comfort?” he jests softly. “Because while I deal well with the former, my skill with the latter falls abysmally short.” 

You laugh softly.

“For both .”

( His eyes light with surprise. Then you spot it, the faint flush on his cheeks and a dangerous thought enters your mind. You shake your head. It was best you didn’t raise your paltry hopes . ) 

He does not visit for a few weeks, but you spot a few saplings left behind at your doorstep, of plants and flowers you had never seen before.

You pick one up and a single word echoes in your mind — qingxins .

A smile tugs at your lips.

The distant noise of battle has grown reticent.

You tell it to Morax on one of his visits and he dares to flash a knowing smile in response. “The war is coming to its close. Only a few handfuls remain.” he states, tracing your bandaged hands; a new set of souvenirs from a stray whopperflower. You shiver involuntarily, leaning into him a bit more while longing tears your insides raw. “Hopefully you will come to enjoy an era of peace soon.”

“Will it end soon? The war?” you ask, wincing a little when he presses his fingertips down on the afflicted skin, bathing it in honeyed gold. “Ah! Gently!” you hiss, pulling back on reflex. Morax holds you fast, drawing you back to him with a playful tut and a sheepish glance your way.

“Apologies. Is this alright?” The pressure on your wrist still brings forth a sting, but it’s far more bearable. You nod. “Alright. Now hold still …” The glow returns, as does the tingling warmth and the tense nervousness gives way to a content sigh as the pain ebbs to obscurity. You watch your bandages fall away to skin mostly unblemished, save the faint traces of a scar left behind. “Better?” he asks.

You nod. “Much better…I wonder why you didn’t try healing yourself earlier. You’re not too bad at it.” he wasn't. Only a few humans were ever imbibed with the grace of divine power. You always longed to be gifted with the strength to heal, and you feet the slightest hint of envy as you take in the sight.

Morax blinks. “I was in too weak a state to do so. Healing is not my greatest strength either…I simply learned it, should it come to use amidst battle.” he flexes his fingers, the last flickers of gold falling away. His gaze meets yours with its usual intensity before he reaches for your other hand. 

“Hm…I suppose this means you’ve paid your part of the debt?” you tease. “You’ve healed me as I've healed you, right?” 

“True…” his lips quirk up as he mends the last of the burns, then presses a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Does this mark the end of our contract?” The gesture only serves to fluster you further, bringing forth the feeling of fluttering warmth and the near lightness in your chest. Morax chuckles, his voice dipped to a teasing whisper as he calls out your name in a low, purring timbre.

“H-hold up!” you choke out, terrified of potentially overheating as you push his face away, stifling away the shy laughter that threatens to burst out. Morax shifts closer, closer still, his close presence having grown familiar through the meetings and the shared conversations and meals ( you missed the gentleness in his touch, you missed so much of him ).

“Hm? Stop what?” he teases, a cheeky glint lighting up in his gaze. “My, your face feels warm.” he adds with a soft simper, tilting your chin his way as he scans your features.

A desperate attempt to shift his attention comes to form. “Look at the qingxins you gifted me! They’re growing nicely, right?” you try to smile, looking at the flowers growing just a small ways from your home. Morax hums.

“They are. Give them a few months and they will come to bloom.” he replies, his wandering touch tracing up your arm, grazing at fragile skin and faint scars and the sensation has you shuddering. The glow in his eyes brightens and he huffs out something unintelligible, then asks you, “Would you like me to stop?”

You fall silent. “No it’s fine…” you sigh, reaching up to grasp his hand gently, ignoring the phantom stings as your finger splays out over Morax’s palm, at the dazzling gold dipped at the edges fading away to a spider web of veins and dark scales. “I like this.” you hum. Morax blinks, his cheeks coloring pink.

The intensity burns brighter in his gaze. It scorches at his touch and in the way he looks upon you now and as acute as it was, you felt blanketed beneath a safe warmth.

Morax speaks up, “I will make sure this war ends soon.” It was a promise, holding the weight of his blood. You feel it in every syllable, every rise and drop in his cadence. He leans in and the spice in his scent pervades your senses.

His lips are softer than you expected, mildly chapped from the heat and the battlefield, and between the buzz slowly beginning to sound off in your head and the feel of his touch brush away at your hair and rest on your cheek, your heart hammers hard in your ribcage. You feel the earth shift and watch the sky sweep away as you fall back on the grass and Morax palms at your hips and kisses you some more.

It feels like a distant dream, something you’d rather not wake from and when he pulls away to look you in the eye, you watch the smirk in his face grow as he dips down and buries his face into your neck, his pace languid, his claws gentle against the softness of your skin. You bite back a stray mewl when his teeth prickle down on sensitive flesh, slowly and deliberately making his way down down down, and his hand pressing flat on your thigh.

A glow flickers within his chest. He stops and tugs away with clear frustration, heaving as he watches you try to recover from the fog clogging up your thoughts, the memory of his touch warming every inch of you. Morax chews at his bottom lip. “I am needed again.”

“...oh…” you croak out, even if you wish to scream at the unfairness, to pull him back down atop of you and finish what he started. You shut your eyes, easing at your frayed nerves at the trembling and the traitorous dampness that was gradually settling in. The god in front of you holds a shadow of amusement and he kisses you again, gentler, with less teeth and tongue and more tenderness.

“I’ll come back,” he whispers. It holds another promise masked beneath the assurance, it’s cheekiness lighting his gaze.

When Morax’s form departs, you let out a shaky sigh, one hand delving into your heat while the other clamps over your mouth. The moment your slick coats your fingers, you moan into the silence, the promise persisting.

Morax thinks about you when the rains fall once more.

He thinks about you on the battlefield, waiting with that patient smile.

He thinks about you when his adepti fall and the last god is slain — when he finds his numbers dwindle, their blood staining his victory. He holds that memory of you close, that cherished warmth. His little flower.

Morax thinks about you. And he longs .

You came to know of patience’s workings through the days and months in between Morax’s visits, and this one is his longest thus far. The war persists still, the sound of the heavens screaming slowly growing quieter as deities were felled and the lands were stitched together by victories and defeats. You wonder where your old home lies now beneath the seven seats, what it would grow into in the near future.

Then one day, you wake to complete and utter silence.

The war is over. The roads had cleared. One day, when the world stills just a little more and the last few scars left behind have healed, you could try to visit the towns and cities beyond your isolated home.

Morax stays absent. You go on with your life. The qingxins he gifted you bloom in your garden. You wait, shedding away the accusatory remarks, the words that dare you to doubt his victory, that take your mind to darker spaces with the image of his still form and cold hands. No, absolutely not, you could not doubt him .

You repeat it over and over, beating down at the cynical whispering. Do not doubt him .

A storm rises again, blustering through the lands with the threat of tearing your home down from its stubborn foundations. You stay inside, the change in weather setting forth a persistent chill that your meager hearth could hardly hold against. Finally, after a few hours of running about, your body hunches over the blocks, feeding the fire with the last of your firewood.

“How much longer…” you mutter, storing away the last of your herbs when the rain refuses to cease and it grows harder to differentiate between night and day. The lightning thunders in response, asserting it’s long stay and you curl up by the warmth you fed, numb fingers gripping at old blankets and watching the rain beat down incessantly on your roof. It would be a long wait, you realize. It’s best if you find a way to pass the time.

There was another clap of thunder, then a crash that felt all too intimate with your memories. Then came the knocking and you scuttle up to let a drenched Morax in, his pupils blown wide and his body hot to the touch as he stumbles in. You’re almost afraid he’s fallen ill once more, but the insistent tug at your wrists has you follow him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, seating him down by the fire, moving to dry his hair after draping a sheet on his shoulder. “Morax, what’s wrong.” Despite the sudden appearance, you feel relief crash down and tug out a lump in your throat. You hold back the tears for his sake. You did not want to startle him in this state.

“A visit.” he shrugs.

“In this weather?” you question every ounce of wisdom he holds. He looks unbothered, pulling you closer to him while you squeeze the water out of his tresses, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Warm breath pools out and hits your neck and a shiver racks at your body. “Morax — ”

“I missed you…” The hoarseness of his voice steals the words in your mouth. You latch onto him tightly, fisting at his robes, uncaring of the silk wrinkling beneath your rough hands. Morax does not stay silent or stay still, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer up against him. “I missed you…” he repeats feverishly. The hunger in his stare is an answer enough.

The fire crackles and lets out a sputter.

Morax lays you on your back with a gentle thump and hooks a hand beneath your knee, pushing it up against your chest as he steals a kiss from you, heated and impatient after weeks of mulling over his affection and lust. “Stay still.” he orders as you squirm a little, wanting more, needing more, trying to bury yourself into him as much as humanly possible. 

Your open mouthed breaths did not help in the slightest as he steals another kiss, then another, the wetness of his tongue delving deep down your throat as he muffles out any sounds of shock from you —

— was it forked ?

You could not ponder over it for long, choking against the invading muscle while his lips caress yours with growing need and intensity. It made sense, for one like Morax — who adored talking about the origins of an obscure tea leaf to the festivities that littered the streets of his city — to fancy the act of kissing you. And he still keeps kissing you, over and over till your head spins and his body is pressed up flush against yours.

He noses at your neck with a noticeable huff, fingers dragging up the side of your hips, slowly, deliberately, till they tug at the hem of your clothes. Molten gold catches the anxious excitement bubbling within you and your eyes and you catch the smirk on Morax’s face.

“I’d like to continue.” he sounds breathless.

“ Go on then .” that threadbare line that held you together had snapped now. You do not think you could wait any longer than you have for him. Morax chuckles, bending down with a narrowed gaze till his nose brushes against yours.

“I haven’t finished my statement.” he chides and you don’t know what is worse, him dragging this out to a near painful pace, or the hand that caresses the inside of your thigh teasingly, drawing out a stray moan from your lips. “If you feel overwhelmed, or you wish to stop, we must establish a safe word.”

He waits expectantly and you scour your mind for the first word that pops into your head. “Squid.” you decide, shifting your hips closer to him. Morax lets out something between a wince and an amused chuckle, his hand leaving your thigh. You wine in protest, grabbing at his wrists to pull him closer.

“So needy.” he lilts. “Are you sure you want this?”

How cruel , you think unhappily, unsure of how to take his consideration; a loosely veiled attempt to drive you further into wanting or a call of sincere concern. You think you know Morax. You think it’s both.

“ Yes !” you cannot wait any more and neither could Morax, his claws curling round to clutch and tangle at the back of your head while he captures you in a devouring kiss. Your own experience hardly held a candle to his own practiced ease, but you do what you can, groaning into the clacking of teeth and the teasing little nips he leaves on your lower lip. 

His thumb traces down the side of your neck and hooks at your clothes, tugging away at the fabric to stroke your now bare shoulder. Morax leaves no trace of skin untouched by his lips and he brushes down the line of your collar bone, his teeth flashing in the candle light till you feel him bite down at the spot with a muffled growl.

The rush of pain and pleasure has you pressing your face down into the mattress with reeling shock, any moan held back in the midst of the hazy shock lighting up inside you. The action was mostly unintentional, but you were glad it could have saved you any further embarrassment in Morax’s eyes.

“Not a sound?” he asks, licking his lips with a predatory tilt to his head, regarding every inch of you with voracity. You stubbornly refuse to respond, lips sealed tight with a set of eyelashes batting up at him. Morax likes a chase and you give it to him, no matter how small it may be. “No matter. We’ll see how silent you are by the end of the night.”

The words hang in the air like an impending omen. You do not doubt him.

His voice dips to a sultry whisper as he undoes your top and lets it slide past your shoulders and down your waist till it was bunched to the side and lay there forgotten. The storm rumbles outside your window, and the wind prickles at your skin. Between Morax eyeing you down, mapping out every detail with his fingertips and the chill in the air, your arms instinctively move to hug yourself. 

“No.” His word was stern, absolute as he tugs at whatever covers your entirety from his gaze. “I’ve never seen you this shy before… adorable .” he purrs, stroking your cheek. 

“ Tease .” you test out.

Morax’s expression lapses to a playful smile in the midst of your indignation, leaning back to watch you with clear intent. He guides your legs around his waist and shifts you partly atop his lap, gently moving your hips to a slow grind against his torso. The sudden stimulation draws out a squeak, your cheeks set aflush.

“ Beautiful… ” his claws linger over your chest before it trails down to stroke your stomach. “You’re so soft , little love…” they stop at your shoulder, raking around the scar settled there, gnarled marks and torn flesh left behind by talons and teeth. You feel the flare of doubt and self consciousness flare back up, but it fizzles out when he bends to leave a kiss atop it.

It was hard to find a spot that he did not touch. Morax was precise, diligent, learning what spots made your squirm and whimper and shake beneath him with white hot pleasure. The rain’s roar was a distant muffle between the pleasant buzz in your head and Morax’s ragged breaths sounding in the otherwise quiet room. He hunches over you, nosing at your neck with near obsessive need, nipping, kissing — anything to cast on some semblance of his scent and essence.

Your chin nestles atop his shoulder, your sight trained upwards, oblivious to where Morax may choose to touch you next. The clinking of metal does draw in a few questions, most quickly answered when you feel his clothes give way and settle on your stomach. Then comes his teeth, sharp fangs sinking into you. You hardly register the moan you let out, or the heat that you sink into, desperate for more, for more skinship, for more of Morax.

“ Beautiful .” he repeats, a growl bleeding into every syllable, down to the rumble in his chest. He still donned his pants, but most of his clothes now lay scattered across the mattress, pushed aside a moment later with an impatient huff. 

You have seen Morax bare chested plenty of times before, when he first arrived wounded on the slope of your little mountain home. There was no denying he was a beautiful man, sharply lined with the faintest of silvered scars scattered beneath stark gold tattoos. “ Morax .” you mutter, lacing your fingers into his, tugging at him instantly. “Keep going.”

He smiles. 

“Patience.” he croons. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold back the swear resting on your tongue. “I have waited for so long…” his teeth don’t hold the old hesitance it did, now wholly marking you with delicious bruises and love bites. “...and I intend on savoring… ” his lips linger on the line of your jaw, tickling your ear. “... each… ” they brush down, down, down. “... bite… ” and true to his words, he sinks his teeth down again.

Your hands tangle at his hair, his hair tie snapping to your insistent tugging till burnt brown strands pool around him. He looked a little wilder, with how his eyes glow beneath the shadow cast on his face. You comb through them with a soft “So pretty.” earning a flattered hum whilst he cups your breasts, chanting your name lovingly.

You gasp at the feel of a soft pinch on your nipples. Morax lights up, a dangerous splay of his fangs flashing in your field of vision before he engulfs one breast within his mouth, suckling, biting, devouring greedily and the other grows sensitive to his slow strokes. “M-Mor–AX!” Your mewls peak and your hands grab at his shoulders, his back, at the sheets — somewhere , trying to ground you to the sensation. 

( He could hear your racing heart beneath his grasp and the sound of it makes Morax purr with an emotion so old and primal and possessive. )

He pulls away with a wet pop. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“H-hot.” you barely manage to blurt out. “Hot everywhere.”

That smile was back again, the one with the barest flash of primality. “Hot?” he repeats. You nod. It was hot, in your cheeks, your chest and your stomach and core — and you could hardly bring yourself to wait. With Morax’s resolve to take his slower pace. You curse his patience. You wish he was just as desperate. 

“I am.” he muses nonchalantly, ducking down to take your other breast in his mouth. “I crave every inch of you. I want to hear you sing, wǒ qīn'ài de .” his hand drags down, teasing the inside of your thighs with circular strokes. You buck your hips into him with a pathetic whimper, and Morax pounces at the lapse, tugging your underwear down with a single fluid motion then pushing his fingers into your drenched heat.

“Oh how obscene.” he lilts, a delighted shine in his eyes, momentarily bringing his slickened digits for you to see. “You’re drenched.”

“ Shut .” you snap, a depraved cry cutting you off as he teases at your entrance with one finger, thumbing up your core till he settles on your clit with a peased grunt. Your hips snap and shudder, tears slowly pricking at your eyes. It was an odd sensation, a buildup of pressure far greater than what you could coax out that tightens in your gut. 

Morax slides a finger in, slowly, gently. “ Ah — ” you bury your face into your mattress, spreading your legs further for him. He continues his slow thrusts, in and out and you revel in the sweet sensation. “Feels — f-feels good — ” 

His scrutiny comes with its merits, stroking your walls with an out of place gentleness as he watches every shift, keen and whine with a deep found appreciation and yearning. “You’re quite tight , little one.” he rumbles. You warble in response, bucking your hips into him as the pressure steadily builds and builds and builds.  

“I’ll be adding another.” he decides and he does, a second finger slipping in. the stretch stung and you fist at the sheets with a groan.

“N-no…t-too much — ah!” The broken whimper does elicit a sympathetic look from him and he kisses away the tears, thankfully easing his movements.

“I know, little love. I know.” you sink into his warmth, melting at the delicacy in how he holds you close. “But we’ll need to prepare you, don’t we? And you’re taking me so well too…” you think you are when the pain slowly subsides and the pleasure returns, your very being trembling when he scissors you. “Ah, witnessing the state you're in…it makes me wonder how well you’ll take something else of mine, hm?”

“M-morax!” you squeak, cheeks flushed. The embarrassing squelch from your core shuts you up immediately. You decide you’re better off muffling out your moans out of petty spite at this point and you seek your refuge in the covers, burying your face into your mattress.

Ha! You think, naively, foolishly, daring to assume that Morax would fold at the face of a challenge. A third finger slips through and the moan is smothered. You think you hear him chuckle and you think you see the excited flash in his eyes as he shifts and twists your body, laying you down on your stomach.

“So stubborn.” The delight is apparent in his cadence. His hand presses down at the small of your back, then his torso presses up against you, continuing his slow and agonizing thrusts with practiced pace. “The vitriol in your silence hardly diminishes how soaked you are. Your body is far more honest, it seems.”

“ MMPH !”

You gasp, feeling his fingertips stroke your g-spot, pulling you apart at the seams and chipping away at your mind. Everything feels distant and muddled and the pleasure was almost too much to bear. “Does it feel good when I touch you here?” you shut your eyes and curl up, bucking up into him uselessly. His weight restricted your movements and you doubt you could wiggle away for a temporary respite ( even if some masochistic part of you liked the deluge of sensations pile up steadily ). “I need words.”

Another thrust. You wail into your hands, whatever dogged decision to stay silent, now shattered. “Yes. Yes — P- please!” you haven’t the foggiest clue what you’re begging for at this point, but the fullness you feel from his fingers alone is enough. “L-like that. Morax please keep going.”

He adds a fourth finger.

“You keep tightening up…” he whispers, as if trapped in a trance of his own, your head lifting to press against his bicep while his movements momentarily slow to ease you in before his pace picks up and that slow, brutal torture begins again. 

You squirm, squeal, bite into his arm with vigor. Morax laughs, kissing your temple with comforting croons. “Good.” he coos, dipping his nose into your hair with a victorious purr. Your thighs squeeze around him and your hips jolt forth. The pressure steadily building up in your stomach seems to crest while you chime out his name. Your orgasm seeps closer and closer and closer —

He pulls his fingers out and you bite back a cry, a protest, tears pooling out as dismay settles fast. Was it something you said? Was it something you’ve done? Why did he stop?

“Why…” you manage out, stroking his hair. Morax raises a brow then slides down, his lips latching onto your inner thigh with a groan. You fist at the sheets again, a vague idea coming to form between the haze and the jumbled confusion and disappointment and it sets a spark of excitement. 

A pause.

Morax meets your gaze.

He smirks.

You stifle back a scream when he bows his head down and laves at your heat, catching the receding traces of your buildup and letting it reel in steadily. His tongue was greedy, warm, devouring you whole as he slicks it through your drenched folds, and — oh gods —

Whatever praise that you cry out turns into a feverish mantra being babbled out over and over, the sharp mountainous air taking on a headier scent. Your validation was enough to spur him on, it seems, every bit of Morax, from the practiced gentleness to his eagerness to undo you coming to shine with the fervor of a starved animal. 

“ Good .” he growls out, claws digging down a little harder into the softness of your thigh, his teeth and tongue grazing and toying at your clit. You clap your hands over your mouth once more, a squeak cut short, only to have them pinned down by him. He flashes you a warning glare before gold light illuminates your wrists and you feel the weight of geo press them down to your chest.

The cuffs were heavy, and they did their job well as you could only grab at air while his licks grow more languid. Your thighs were pushed back with a single fluid movement and a flustered cry escaped with your sudden exposure. 

“Ah — ”

You tug at his hair, drawing out another delicious moan from his throat. Liquid gold appraises you, taking every detail in, between your fucked out expression and your twitching body. Morax presses against your sweet spots, and you could have sworn some strange magic were at play, with every careful thrust and every slow vibration. You could hard;y word out the state you were in, your mind all cotton wool with little thought.

Overwhelming…indescribable…that was a way to put it.

Morax does not complain about your growing insistence, your moans growing louder, your thighs squeezing round his shoulders, your attempts to free yourself from the stone shackles he placed on you.he must be just as far gone with your arousal in his mouth ( and that was true ). You hope he won’t turn to cruelty like the last time and deny you of your orgasm. It was a delirious pitch in the back of your mind, a soft cry.

“I-I think i’m close — ” you gasp, feeling that knot grow tight as the tell tale spill of an incoming release shudders up your spine and fingertips. Morax looks at you, the gold of his eyes wide and his pupils blown out with suppressed mischief. A well-timed thrust from his fingers served your undoing.

“Go on then.” he relents.

You sob into the sheets gratefully, pleasure rippling through as the coil snaps and you crumple and sink into a state of unawareness. You could only just register Morax sitting up, thumb swiping at his lips, licking away at the mess you made, smeared between his thighs and on him. “S-sorry!”

He shuts his eyes, quiet bliss washing over him. “I could devour you here and now…” he mutters in indulgence. He rubs your sore wrists down, pressing kisses against the expanse of skin with an apologetic smile. “You look tired. Shall we stop here?”

Alarm lines your features. “What about you?” you blurt out, bug eyed and still fatigued from your orgasm. Morax doesn’t respond, laying down next to you. You feel a bitterness line your mouth and you find yourself pushing your body up and crawling atop him. Morax opens one eye, amusement quirking at his lips.

“Oh?” he doesnt bother feigning surprise as his clawed grip settles on your hips. You try to hide yourself, embarrassment from your bold move hardly aiding in your focus as you slide his pants down and stare, he bore two of them, standing erect against your stomach. You helplessly glance at him. 

“You’re…you’re big..” you tell him dumbly. “I-I don’t…I don’t think I can take both of them…” Morax chuckles.

“We’ll take it slow then. You only need one.” he decides, helping you up. You steady yourself on his shoulders, carefully laving your entrance with him before you lower yourself onto him, feeling the first telltale sting that has you stop with a whine. “Careful.” he speaks up, rubbing at your sides and you try to be, taking him bit by bit. Morax stretched you out in a way his fingers couldn’t and his second shaft rubs at your sore clit, leaving you jolting with sparks of pleasure.

He was roving every inch of you, biting down at his bottom lip when you clench around him. Every bit of him screamed of his self control hovering a step away from a more viscous beast. You don’t think you’re ready for what Morax tucks away in the corners of his mind, but you hope, hope that you could indulge him some day.

You were soaked enough for him to slip in with ease, a collective of your and his arousal trailing down with an audible squelch every time he dared to grind up a little more against you. “Fuck….” he whispers out, a rare lapse in demeanor. “D-does it hurt?”

“No.” you shake your head, a half lie. It stings, yes, but the slow haze of euphoria was pressing up and you knew he would stop if you showed the slightest sign of discomfort — and you did not want him to stop. Not with this lovely warmth, and with him holding you like you were the most delicate of flowers.

The sound he makes is animalistic and he thrusts, just a little, into you. He could hardly help himself, seemingly just as lost as you were ( and he was, with his parted lips and fluttering lashes ). You curl into him, pressing your face into his neck. “That’s it.” he whispers mindlessly. “Wonderful, y-you’re taking me so well…don’t rush now…”

You take the rest of him, seated snugly on his lap with a shaky mewl, tears pricking at your eyes. Morax bares his teeth, groaning freely as the air itself seems to crackle against you. You open your mouth, trying to say something, anything, but he pins you down with a single look. “Little minx .” he rasps.

A laugh bubbles up. You wonder if it’s from amusement, or from the overwhelming rush of dopamine or both. 

He kisses the corner of your lips, gathering his bearings. “You’ve had your moment of fun, little love. Now move .”

“Yes sir…” you sigh, and do just that, lifting your hips just a bit before you rock back down onto him. “S-shit…s-so good…” 

Morax hums, pursing his lips. His face was flushed and the tattoos on his arms were cast in gold and light. He takes matters into his own hands, pounding up into him with sudden force and your teeth chatter and your eyes roll back with a pathetic whimper.

A few marks of your own were delivered, from your nibbling as Morax continues to thrust up into your drenched cunt, and from your nails scratching at his back. His approval was punctuated by a particularly hard one, that made your head spin and had you see stars. You vaguely register the scent of petrichor through everything else.

“ Morax — ” 

The state you were in only behind to sink in. That he was inside you, that he was taking every chance to draw out these obscene sounds from your lips. Even gods could not escape the perversion of mortal desires. Was this even considered blasphemy at this point, when he seemed to be stuck on the same boat as you were, sinking so fast into his lust?

“ — so good for me .” he guides your legs around his abdomen, whispering your name with a weak whine. He bites at your neck, at the marks he inflicted, then soothes them with kisses. He rubs your back and strokes your hair, his tender touch contrasting against his rough movements, grinding into your sweet spots and paired with his second cock rubbing at your clit, you could only lose yourself a second time.

That knot tightens and you feel the onset of your release. It was close, fast coming and you tug at his hair to warn him. Morax growls, his tail winding round your ankle. You try to keep up, try to ride him, but his pace far outmatches yours, stretching you out, pulling you flush against him. You let him use you, your monks reaching a feverish peak, grasping a taste of heaven on your tongue.

“Morax — ah!”

He curls into you, around you with an engulfing embrace with whispered words being uttered into your ear, “Do you want to cum?” You jolt your head. “Then cum… ”

And the bliss washes over you as you finally find it, slumping up into Morax;s patient arms with a near boneless stance. Your eyes met his, the hunger that still rages as he watches with awed fascination at how you come apart and piece back together again with teary eyes and a debauched smile.

“Beautiful.” he mumbles, then presses you face first into the sheets, still sheathed deep inside you. You only just realize he still has reached his own peak yet when he moves, absently reaching out for a pillow for you to grasp.

“God…M- morax — ” you were tired but with overstimulation settling fast and your own desires to see his pleasures being met, you bite into the pillow with a helpless whine. There was a rush in the pain you felt, from feeling all that pleasure wrap into a tight knot while he slicks back and forth into you, hitting your g-spot again with insistent grunts. His pupils were blown wide, like he was trying to take in as much of you as he could.

“M-more!” you blurt out then wince, feeling a hint of shame prick at you for being so greedy. It was about him now; sure you could put your own needs aside.

Morax however, smiles. “ More ?” he coos. “You want more?”

A gasp. You feel his hand settle on your clit, his untouched cock brush against your thigh. “Now who am I to deny you?” He continues his rough thrusts, godly stamina barely denting at his reserves and his pace. Perhaps that came with being an adeptus, this unending virility and endurance. Morax kisses at the back of your neck, laying down more marks to serve as a reminder for the next few days ( that you were, undoubtedly and irrevocably his now ).

Wanton moans pour out easily. Morax delights in them, carefully stimulating spots that were sure to bring the most out of you. The initial phase of searching and mapping out and learning was long gone — he was always quick to pick up on things, and things that make you fall apart into a quivering mess so easily were no exception.

It feels so good. So good —

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. You feel sore in the best of ways and you nod. You don’t want him to stop. You don't ever want him to stop, drunk on the overstimulation, the euphoria, his cock, him —

Morax lets out a shaky exhale and slams even harder into you. “You’ll be my undoing...” he whispers and you turn your head, catching a glimpse of him. His straight faced composure was long gone, what careful parts of him he keeps hidden from sight having fallen over. Claws prickle at your ass, his eyes are trained on you, you you and when he meets your gaze, he captures your lips in a heated kiss.

“What kind of spell have you ensnared me with, little love?”

You could say the same thing. You try to, cut off by a rough grind on your clit. A lump builds up in your throat, vaguely recalling his small gestures of affection, his admissions, through your heat hazed mind and you arch your back into him to catch another kiss. Morax never needed to say the words and you were fine with it. 

“I love you.” you tell him instead, taking everything you had to get your tongue to move. Morax freezes up. He shuts his eyes and strokes your cheeks and buries his face into your neck.

“My Qingxin.” he whispers, tenderly, lovingly. The faltering in his pace, the sloppier jerks of his hips, then undertones of strained control beneath his moans signal his release. You grasp at his free shaft, and the gasp that echoes out was a rewarding one as you stroke him along into his release. “In or out?” he grits out, stuttering for a second. You feel the drag of his cock against your walls. “In.” you blubber.

You blank out after, feeling the rush, the fullness, him spilling out of you, between your legs, onto the mattress, over your stomach. Morax lets out a shudder, his marks glowing a faint gold before he pulls out. His hand does not leave your clit. Coaxing your third peak out with gentle kisses and insistent mumbles. The pain was sharp but you drink it in, pride lining every crevice of you till you jolt, that pressure finally releasing.

“Thank you.” you mumble. Intimacy was always so foreign, and a kind touch was a far away thought. Morax settles down, pulling you to him as he kisses away the drying tears and the sated touch starvation. He kisses you on the lips. Then the tip of your nose. Then at the bites he inflicted. 

“Rest.” he whispers. 

The cadence of his voice made it hard to disagree with and you feel unconsciousness wash over you fast. You could vaguely make out the sheets being changed and a damp cloth washing you down.

Morax’s weight next to you was the last thing you register.

“Are you well?”

Morax could count the number of times you sought refuge beneath his arm, eyes roving the stalls in the harbor with caution and nervousness. Your jumpiness was an expected clause, and a slightly endearing one as he walks you along the streets as a mortal man and his lover. There were no gods in Liyue Harbor today, at least none the people were aware of.

“Zhongli.”

He turns his head. “Yes, love?”

You fall into earnest silence. “I think I'm going to freak out.” you say. As taught as a bowstring against him. You grip at his hanfu tighter. “They’re staring. Why are they staring?”

“I suppose a new face does bring raised brows. That…” he dips his head down, nose brushing against your cheek with a loving chuckle. “...and you look exceptionally beautiful today, love.” You tug at his sleeve. “Ah, would some food ease my flower’s nerves then?” another tug. He takes that as a yes.

Even so, Morax knew you. Qingxins were flowers that know the intimate dangers of the mountain side and the bustle of the harbor below. You will grow, as you do and you will adapt as you do, maybe slowly, maybe quickly. He knows not to rush it along and he contents himself with your company and your curious question and the bliss on your face when you try a skewer.

“Liyue is beautiful.” you admit after a while. “Crowded, but beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not used to this.” you tell him for the umpteenth time, quick, apologetic and Morax has none of that ( why would he ever see it fit to fault you? ). He takes your hand, pressing a fluttering kiss on your palm. 

You shoot him a flustered glare. He smiles. “We’ll take our time. This old man has much to spare.” and he does.

He’ll wait millennia if it is for you. 

📼 — AUTHORS NOTES

reposting done XD.

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @meirvelle @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @chiyoso @4acoffee @loveliluc.

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [HAN]

Han allows himself to indulge in the fantasy of letting his group members use you like a toy.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Han x Fem!Reader Warnings: Dub-con!!, reader says things like "wait," and "hold on," etc., inning/pushing/shoving, manhandling, fingering, unprotected sex, one big ol orgy, etc.

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. also - the middle pic?? GOOD GAWD,,,

Word Count: 1.2K

Divider by @enchanthings

"She likes when you're rough." Jisung's voice peeps from somewhere in the back of the group following down the hallway of your apartment. At the front, and currently being held tight by two of the men your boyfriend was close friends with (and whom you adored), you stumble over your own feet on the way to the bedroom. "So you guys can go all out. Just - no breaking her, yeah?"

You shift in the hold of the men guiding you along, voice wavering in both excitement and uncertainty. "Nobody told me we were doing this today --" You can't help the giggle that escapes your lips, willingly letting them push you towards the bed.

"Hold her down."

It's not your boyfriend's voice you hear from behind you - but the leader of the group; Gruff, gritty with need. He huffs out from beside where you trip over the rug at the end of your bed, body hitting the mattress harder than intended. Chan's chuckling, one hand holding tightly to the fabric of your pajama top and pinning your chest down to the sheets when you begin to wriggle. "Stay still, angel, and this'll be a lot easier."

"Jesus..." Someone else from behind begins to mutter to himself. The voice lower, paired with the hand running over your thigh and tugging down your shorts to expose your dripping hole to them, gives away that it's Felix. Always eager and quite full of energy, he's almost instantly grabbing and kneading at your ass before you have to chance to move - but he does take the initiative to spank you when you wiggle too much under their holds. If you'd glanced back you would've seen just how much you affected him, rock hard and almost whimpering from how badly he wanted to get at you already.

"Jisung..--" Your voice breaks in your throat and you can hear your boyfriend giggling off to the side.

The hand currently keeping you from pushing yourself up - pinning your wrists behind your back - tightens it's grip on your soft skin. It belongs to Jeongin, who lets his body slowly lean down to the side so he can peer into your eyes when your head tips his direction. He watches as you shift to get a better look at him, whispering out, "Innie--"

But he shakes his head, a knowing smile overtaking dimpled cheeks. "Sorry, sweetheart. But I'm just as excited as they are and... if you're going to make it harder for us, then we'll just have to take matters into our own hands."

"Come on," Someone grips at your hips where they lay on the bed, palms warm and heavy before his fingers wrap around the bone and pull harshly upward. Your weight shifts, neck straining and brows crinkling when you settle on your knees - and your grimace only hardens when two fingers slip right into your pussy with such ease. His thumb slides down between your folds until he finds the soft bundle of nerves, making it swell with the way he prods and rubs over it almost angrily. "Oh my God," Seungmin coos, almost enamored with the way you tighten around his fingers. "You're dripping, aren't you?"

But your boyfriend has first dibs - He is your boyfriend after all. So after giving Seungmin some time to toy around with you, pushing at your clit and making you tremble with his hands, he shoves the younger aside to take his rightful place behind you. Pants dropped to his thighs, his cock slips right into your walls with practiced ease. "God, it's like you're made for me." Jisung sighs in adoration, his eyes slowly rolling back in his head with the warmth of your slick coating his cock. And it's little to no time at all before he's moving, the sound of his hips slamming into your own filling the room.

"Hey."

Someone all but bites. With your face pressed into the mattress, he watches as you clearly struggle to lift your head at all. The angle makes you whimper until his fingers tangle into the crown of your head, pulling your hair until you had to crane your neck to look at him. Changbin stares down at the red of your cheeks. With teary eyes blurred and damp, you blink up at the man sitting on the bed in front of you. Had he been there the whole time, watching you rock back and forth on the sheets with no way to support yourself? It seems he doesn't have much to say - He just wanted to see your pretty face while his dongsaeng fucked into you like a dog in heat, drool sliding down your chin and tears beginning to streak over the pink of your cheeks.

"Wait..-- Wait--"

The sudden emptiness of Jisung pulling out makes you whine in distress, lips falling open and jaw slack as someone seems to take his place. Cock pushing into your walls - it's heavier, thicker, bigger. It makes you choke on every breath as he sinks into you balls deep before pulling back, dragging along your inside and almost teasing you with how slowly he seems to move. "Sorry, angel." Leaning down and letting his chest just barely touch the back of your shoulders, Minho settles comfortably behind and lets his hips push closer to bury himself back inside of you. "No time to wait. We all want a turn."

You can feel every breath that escapes his lips brushing over your throat, eyes previously glued to Changbin now flittering down towards the sheets beneath your bodies. With a dull gaze and spit still coating your lips, someone's hand gently takes a hold of your chin. Your eyes remain on the sheets, almost seeming out of it with how perfectly Minho's length massages every inch of your pussy - something you've dreamed of (Jisung, too.) but never expected to actually happen.

The person's thumb gently swipes over your bottom lip, slowly gathering the spit that drips and lifting it to his own mouth to lick it clean - before he's carefully taking hold of your chin once more and letting his thumb press into your mouth. Hyunjin watches as spit pools on your tongue, coating his finger and making him shudder where he sits beside Changbin in front of you.

"Mmn--" You gasp when Minho's hips snap hard to your own, Hyunjin almost pulling his hand back with the way your lips close and threaten to bite down. But you refrain and his worries instantly fade, continuing to push down on your tongue until you were drooling over his hand. He sighs out and, with his free hand, unbuttons his jeans in a quick snap. The fly, already down, lets his cock gain some relief after straining against his briefs for so long. "Keep that pretty mouth open," Hyunjin hums, "I'll put it to good use while I wait for my turn."

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l @jeonginsleftcheek

[shortcakesturns]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 - 𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐑. 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

summary: rob fucks you in soulties lol

warnings: unprotected sex, public sex (nobody sees) pet names, female reader, kind of cheating mentions? (not locked in with anyone.) p in v, oral (f recieving) sorry if it’s not that good ☹️

being in a couple rob had its ups and downs, he likes to explore but you liked him. unfortunately the exploring led to him getting by another girl. rob was genuinely upset, he respected you. He felt different about you way different.

The whole day you couldn’t get it out of your head. You sat at the villa staring at liv and rob talk it away to you it didn’t look natural. they looked awkward and you had ill feelings towards liv coming and stealing him from your grasp. You couldn’t let her know you were salty, no..but you could get back at her.

Your legs moved quicker then your brain as you walked closer and closer to rob. “hey rob can I talk to you?”

“yeah sure.” rob got up from where he was sitting and began to follow you as you led him to soul-ties.

“so, I just want to talk to you about what happened last night you know.” you said as you laid down on the cushioned area. Rob quickly laid down next to you.

“me too.” he agreed with you.

“so, I’m lowkey upset by what happened, I know it’s not your fault but I feel like we had a insanely deep connection rob.” you look at him.

“yeah no me too, I think what she did was uncalled for and I was exploring others but I made it clear you were my number one and wasn’t open to the idea of being picked.” he frowns a bit.

“can I make it up to you y/n?” he looks into your eyes.

you pondered how he could make it up to you, you weren’t sure what could fill the void that you once called your couple in the villa. you had been publicly humiliated in front of thousands on tv.

“sure..” you hesitated but gave in. because who could resist those beautiful enticing eyes.

Rob wasted no time grabbing the back of your neck softly but strong enough to pull you to his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth every few pecks, the pecks became slower and deeper but rougher. Eventually both of your tongues meet and rob tugs on the waistband of your shorts.

he lays you on your back and slowly slips off your shorts and underwear tracing his fingers along your pussy. The warmth grows by the seconds and each small touch rob makes. “can I y/n? words sweetie. please.” he groans.

“yes rob, yes please.” you nod desperate for his touch.

“good girl.” he wastes no time sipping down to your wet pussy and pushing your knees to your chest to get a better angle when tasting your sweet spot. His tongue lapped your clit over and over again every other lap entering your hole before tongue fucking your hole while using his thumb to rub your clit.

He mumbles into your pussy as you feel as if your getting dragged to the edge with each lap and dip of his tongue, his thumb rubbing your clit continuously until you tense up feeling your orgasm approaching.

“that’s it let go for me sweet girl.” rob keeps the attack consistent letting you ride out your high.

“more..more rob please.” he smirks when you beg.

“begging for me? since you wanna be good i’ll give you more.” you hear him fumble with his belt buckle.

his pants drop leaving him with just underwear but those are quickly slipped off while he rubs his tip up and down your slit teasing you.

“no teasing rob.” you cry out.

“okay princess no teasing.” rob aligns his tip with your hole and begins to sink in bottoming out throwing his head back in pleasure.

“best pussy ever.” his pace speeds up roughly.

moans escape from your lips, the pleasure so intense that you can’t help but let mewls slip past your lips. his whispers and moans are incoherent too pussy drunk to form words. you guys were in a trance.

a white ring forms around the base of his cock, cream coating his length. “fuck i’m close sweet girl.” his pace begins to get sloppier and sloppier.

“me too rob fuck.” you clench around him as you feel ropes of cum hit your cervix. rob pulls out and pulls your pants up and puts your shirt on and fixes himself. he lays next to you moving strands of hair out of your face.

“if we recouple soon it’s you, your like a drug, and i’m way too addicted.” he presses a kiss against your lips while holding you

—- SORRY IF ITS BAD OR SPELLING MISTAKES ITS LATE NOT PROOFREAD

[h4untedgrl]

Be An Angel For Me | s.mg

-♡ genre/au: non idol au, ceo!mingi x innocent!fem fiancee reader, dom!mingi x sub!reader

-♡ warnings: kinda mean mingi, punishment lol, spanking, mingi has a sir kink, pet names (angel, honey)

"Wow Mingi your fiancée is beautiful, how come you dont bring her around often?" Mingi winces on the inside at the compliment towards you, his blood starting to boil. "She's such a catch boss! I need to find a girl like her." A fake laugh leaves Mingi's lips as he clenches his jaw.

"Yeah that's my angel for you."

Mingi's work event drags for him, the constant comments about your looks, how your hair sways, the way your eyes close you smile, your pretty doe eyes but the way his subordinates would wrap their arm around your shoulders really sent him over the edge. Oh how he wished he never brought you. "Min honey...? Are you okay?" You whisper in his ear, you noticed him observing your every move from across the room just minutes before.

"Yeah angel, I'm okay." His voice cold, lowering his gaze to look at you. "Five minutes and we're out of here." You nod your head giving him a sweet smile. You've always been an obedient girl, never questioning Mingi. However you were quite naive not noticing the flirtatious comments Mingi's subordinates were throwing at you. Mingi knows you didn't mean any harm, he knows you didn't mean to play along with their comments. But that doesn't change the fact that he is livid.

"Alright guys, we're heading out. I hope you all enjoyed yourself! See you all in the morning, get home safe!" He announced to the room, giving a bow as you wrapped your arm around his and proceed to leave the venue. He looks down at you coldly. "You sure that you're okay Min..? You look upset." Your voice laced with concern. "We can talk later." His sentence short, but once again you didn't question it.

Mingi opens the passenger side door for you, you enter swiftly "Thank you honey." He nods as he closes the door and enters the drivers side. He puts the keys into the ignition. "They piss me off so much." Mingi whispers to himself as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Why you say that hm?" He simply looks at you, you nod knowing not to press the issue. He continues to white-knuckle the steering wheel on the way home.

It was such a silent drive home, you can't help but give glances towards Mingi hoping he would warm up but still kept his cold demeanor. As you finally reach your shared condo Mingi finally speaks. "Once we get inside I expect you to have your dress off, wait for me on the bed." You nod your head "Yes, sir." He gets out the car, opening the door for you. You exit the car, grabbing the keys from your purse and head into your condo.

You open the door entering your room as you quickly slip off your dress leaving you in your bra and panties. You get onto the edge of the bed sitting on your knees when you hear the front door open again. You hear the locking of the door as Mingi's footsteps get closer to the to the bedroom. He sighs, running his hair through his fingers as he sits on the bed next to you before pulling you over his lap.

"Be an angel for me, okay" Mingi runs his calloused hands along your ass giving it a tight squeeze. "You're going to count, if you fuck up we're starting again...got it?" "Yes, sir" He hums at your response. Laying down the first spank on your right cheek, "One" you hiss at the pain. He rubs your cheek before spanking you again "Two" He chuckles at your counting. "Shouldn't let you leave the house anymore." Another smack comes down "Three" you gasp at the progressively harder hits.

"I hate the way people look at you, with lust in their eyes...yet you allow it" SMACK. "Four" He admires the hand prints on your ass for a second. "Do I not give you enough attention angel?" SMACK. "You give me enough attention sir, five" You whimper out, the stinging on your ass sends a wave of heat over your body. "Then you need to stop acting like a whore angel, gotta stop letting people touch you" SMACK. "S-six"

"Just four more, can you handle that angel?" Mingi rubs your red asscheeks, "Yes, I can handle it" He suddenly stops soothing your ass, "Yes, what angel... Do I have to punish you more?" Your breath hitches "Yes, sir I'm sorry." "There you go angel." SMACK. "F-Fuck seven sir." Without giving you a chance to think. SMACK. "Oh my god! Eight!" He traces the red hand prints on your ass, an attempt to soothe the pain. "You're so good for me angel, just two more I promise." You can't help but to whine, he was so rough with you yet so gentle with his words.

Mingi smirks to himself as he lays down another smack, "N-nine~" You slur as you flinch your back arching slightly. Mingi's hand comes down one last time, "Ten sir!" Your lip quivers as you look at Mingi. He swiftly turns you around, making you sit in his lap "C'mere angel, gonna run a bath for you." His gaze softens as he looks at your face. "You did so good for me, I'm very proud of you."

-♡ taglist: @vampzity @scarfac3 @dvrktvnnel @dollywoo @planetjaeyun @yyaurii @cypher-03

[lovebugism]

Hiii can i request shy reader whos anxious about different things? I have weird anxiety lol that makes it hard for me to eat in front of people until im comfortable around them. Can i request reader x Steve who have been dating for a while and she tries to avoid eating around him, but she finally gets comfortable and Steve is just so happy, thank you!!

hope you like it angel :D — steve takes care of his anxious gf at a family barbecue (established relationship, hurt/comfort ish, cw for mentions of anxiety and unexplained issues with food | 1.1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The picnic table in Steve’s backyard is hardly big enough for all of you. Even when Max and El agree to lay out on a blanket together some feet away — and when Lucas and Erica spontaneously decide to race each other to the pool — it’s still an achingly tight fit. 

You, in particular, are sandwiched between two bodies much larger than yours. Eddie sits to your right, lacking any real concept of personal space, and Steve is off to your left. The latter keeps a strong arm around your back, hugging you closer to his chest every time the wild-haired boy accidentally knocks into you.

“Okay, me and Nance are getting something to eat,” Robin announces, standing suddenly from the table, visibly overstimulated from the constant conversation. Her eyes flit to your cowering form and then to Steve’s protective one. “You guys have fun with… this.”

It takes all of ten seconds for the others to follow behind them. Dustin and Eddie file through the Harrington family barbecue together, filling their decorative paper plates like they’re at an actual buffet. Mike and Will walk on pale, lanky legs around the yard — stopping once to talk to Max and El, then again by the pool with Lucas and Erica.

You and Steve are the only ones still sitting, but he hugs you to him like you aren’t. 

You can feel the early summer breeze on your skin now, without the crowd of teenagers suffocating you. You can hear the whispering wind, and the gentle humming of his pool, and the sounds of quieter conversation in the distance. You can breathe again. Almost. Still slightly strangled by a distant worry that Steve can read from here.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders cautiously, ‘cause he knows how you are about food. You haven’t let him in on the extent of it yet, but he knows it’s there, so he’s obscenely patient with you accordingly.

You glance once over your shoulder — at the tables of grilled meat and food cooked with love. Your stomach rolls with a distant ache, an empty one. You turn back to Steve and shrink under the weight of his honey-eyed stare. “Um… Kinda,” you confess in a mousy voice, shifting on the wooden bench.

His eyes widen in a soft look of surprise. You usually take a little more coaxing than that. 

“Want me to make you a plate?” he offers, squeezing your shoulder with a gentle hand. His pink lips quirk in a sympathetic smile. “We can take it up to my room if you want— get away from all these freaks.”

Your chest warms at his efforts to accommodate you. The way he loves you makes you brave. 

“That’s okay,” you shrug, trying to be cool even though your voice trembles. “We can... We can stay down here.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. It bubbles up like sunshine until he’s beaming with it. 

It took you months to feel comfortable enough to eat in front of just him. And here you are now, utterly adored and finally brave enough to eat with all the rest of his shithead friends around.

“Yeah?” he hums, still smiling.

“Yeah,” you nod, gaze averted to your hands, which are wringing something fierce in your lap. You force a small laugh. “But it wouldn’t be, like, totally lame if I asked you to come with me, would it?”

Steve scoffs. “Like you even have to. I’m not let you get to the corndogs before me,” he jokes and rises from the creaking bench. “We’ll be lucky if Robin and Henderson don’t eat ‘em all first.”

He gets you laughing so you don’t think twice about meandering across the yard with him — about the eyes that are or are not watching you, or the weird way you are or are not walking. 

And because he keeps you laughing (and largely unthinking), you end up stacking your plate with more food than Steve’s ever seen you eat in public before. He almost mentions it. Almost. But he opts to keep his pride to himself, instead, lest he ruin the moment.

You return to the picnic table with all his friends, noticeably less anxious about being so squished together than before. 

And maybe it’s because Dustin and Eddie can’t eat anything without being sloppy — or maybe it’s because Will’s keeping you distracted with talks of his newest D&D campaign — but you down your food with more ease than Steve’s ever seen from you. Unworried about the crumbs sticking to your fingers and the very corner of your mouth. Completely and utterly comfortable here with him, and with everyone else around you.

The sight makes his heart swell. 

It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

He catches you alone for the first time when you’re tossing empty plates. It’s not exactly the most ideal spot to steal a kiss from you — by the deck, next to the garbage bins — but it’s the first either of you have been out of sight from prying eyes all day. 

So, Steve takes the opportunity and grabs it. Literally. He cradles your wrist in a gentle hand and ushers you closer towards him. Your feet stumble in the tall grass. The tip of his nose brushes the bridge of yours, and you flinch. 

“I taste like cheeseburger,” you laugh.

“I don’t care,” Steve shrugs, face screwed, visibly mourning your mouth. “I taste like barbecue. Who gives a shit?”

He ducks down to kiss you again. And this time, you let him. 

He kisses you harder than you anticipated — a long and languid peck that takes your breath away. He tastes faintly of all the food he’d eaten before, something savory and strawberry sweet. It leaves you dizzy when he pulls away, lips smacking softly as they part.

“What was that for?” you wonder breathlessly a moment later.

Steve bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His kissed lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Nothin’. I’m just… I’m just proud of you, I guess.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. He doesn’t have to. You cower at the notion of being perceived and scrunch your nose in disdain. “For being a normal person?” you joke with a cynical scoff. “For once?”

“No. For doing something that was hard for you,” Steve argues, still smiling. His hands rest warm and wide on the outside of your elbows. His thumbs rub softly along the skin there. “And for lookin’ real cute while you were doing it, too.”

You squint, trying hard not to smile at his smiling. 

“Stop flirting with me,” you grouse.

The boy’s pink lips jut in a playful pout. “But why?” he whines. “That’s, like, my favorite pastime.”

[hysteria-things]

i REALLYYY need a sub matt fic plsss i read the one when he gets hard from seeing her in a bathing suit but can u do one where the triplets are like filming a video and she like like bends down to get something and sees how flustered it makes matt so then she just continues to do stuff like that like stand in front of him and "accidentally" backing up into him yea like stuff like that u know the rest 😁😁😁 (if so could u pls add a little bit of a mommy kink obviously if not that's totally fine)

PLEASE ME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: while filming a video with the sturniolo triplets, you notice matt acting strange so abruptly. when you realize what it’s about, you want to take advantage of it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FILTHY, unintentional teasing lol, handjob, p in v, mommy kink, begging kink, praising, a little degradation, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t do that!), breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 912

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: these requests are literally all the same LMAO

i’m sorry if the mommy kink isn’t RAGING for some reason typing that out makes me cringe a little😭

EDIT: hi second anon i’m very sorry i forgot to put the tata sucking that’s so my bad💔

matt couldn’t help but stare. the boys decided to go roller skating for fun and film for wednesday’s vlog. currently, matt’s at the booth you guys picked out to rest while his brothers are still on the floor.

you wanted to rest your feet as well, so for now, you’re in charge of filming the two over the loud music and other people.

he watches as your body is hunched over the wall dividing the rink to the main area, your skirt lifted ever so slightly. you look so attractive to him, his pants tightening as he looks in your direction.

“that’s good for now, thanks y/n!” chris says as he skates by, giving you a thumbs up.

your giggle fills matt’s ears, his hips having a mind of their own. he thrusts softly into the edge of the table, whining lowly.

“are you alright?” you question, now standing in front of his face.

his eyes are wide like he’s scared. you have a look of genuine fear on your face because he’s been acting fine all night until this moment. “holy shit, matt. seriously, are you okay?”

“i-i need to use the bathroom.” he stammers, quickly getting out of his skates and speed-walking to the other side of the building.

“matt, hold on!” you call out, but he ignores you. you stumble to get your skates off, sprinting after the boy.

catching up to him as he’s about to enter the boy’s room, you grab his wrist and turn him around. his eyes are tearing up as if he’s about to start crying or something. “matt, what the hell?”

“it hurts.” he pouts, looking down at the ground.

face visibly confused, you try to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “what hurts?”

he slowly removes his jacket from in front of his pants, revealing the raging boner through his jeans. “oh.”

his lip quivers, still avoiding eye contact from the embarrassment. “it hurts so fucking bad.” he whines louder.

honestly, you feel bad for him, but that doesn’t mean you still can’t help… right?

before his brain can comprehend what’s going on, you push him into the restroom and lock the door, laying him down on the ottoman that’s in the center of the spacious room.

biting your lip, you bring your hand down to the inside of his pants, palming him through his underwear. he moans desperately, a wet spot forming from the pre-cum.

he’s so sensitive that he’s twitching already, and that’s your sign to wrap your small hand around his dick, moving up and down.

“what a pretty boy, you are.” you coo, his eyes fluttering back with a positive hum. taking your thumb, you move it on his swollen tip. his poor dick is aching for a release, or even better, to be inside of you.

you feel him tighten, moving your hand faster and faster with each pump. squirming rapidly below you, he sticks his tongue out from the pleasure. “i’m gonna cum!” he moans.

you tut. “ask.”

he mewls, eyes closing shut while panting uncontrollably. “please let me cum, mo—”

you smirk amusingly, knowing damn well what was going to fall past his lips. “who?”

sniffling, he now looks at you with a pleading face. “can i cum, mommy?”

giving permission, he spurts his hot liquid down his shaft, but you don’t stop. you keep pumping, hovering over him and slipping your panties to the side with your free hand. “such a good boy.” you praise.

he loves that.

matt hisses once you start to bounce slowly on his cock, still feeling stimulated from his high. it hurts him, but it feels too good at the same time.

his mouth hangs wide, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you start to gradually get faster.

whines and whimpers echo along the walls. thank goodness the music is so loud outside, otherwise people will be able to hear how pathetic he sounds.

you moan too, but not as loud as he is. his voice mind as well be gone by the end of this.

the way your walls engulf him perfectly rubs him the right way, biting his lip and whining nonstop. you whisper praises into his ear, knowing that it gets him closer.

“mo-mmy.” he says high-pitched. “please let me cum i-inside you. please, mommy.”

the begging has you clench, lips ghosting his. “you’re so pathetic right now, i love it.”

eyes crossing, he spills deep into your cunt you can feel it in your stomach. he shakes his head frantically. “e-enough. it hurts too good!”

“come on, baby.” you kiss him sloppily, hands tangling in his hair and tugging at it in the process. “you don’t want mommy to milk you dry?”

tears start trickling down his cheeks, and cries and sobs of pleasure enter your mouth as he tries to kiss you back.

the previous orgasm still leaks, but another one comes rushing in. he’s cumming so much to the point where you’re full, and the rest smears out of the sides of your pussy.

moaning one final time, you release what you were holding around him.

he twitches at the slightest touch, eyes still crossed from the ecstasy that flowed through his body in the short amount of time.

it’s crazy to think about, but you were best friends at the beginning of the night. now the night ended with you pumped full of his cum.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mattsdollie @catalina-island @mbsbaby @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo

[sansaorgana]

Hello, I have a request for Benny Cross:

Benny had a bad habit of telling reader that he would just leave so that she didn’t have to worry about him anymore, and at some point she distances herself because she thinks he’s really going to leave some day and it will hurt less if she starts getting used to his absence. Benny’s not having it though and he realizes that it stresses her every time he says that so he reassures her. Please & thank you 🙏🏼💗

hello! thank you for your request 💐 honestly, he's manipulating emotionally so much when he's like that lol 🙄 but we love him anyway, right? 😉

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

“I should just go,” Benny would always say when you mentioned how worried you were about him riding the motorbike and getting involved in all kinds of trouble – whether with the gang or on his own. “You won’t have to take care of me, won’t have to worry about me then.”

When he said that for the first time, you were assuring him that it was not what you wanted – holding onto him, caressing his head as you pressed his face between your breasts like a mother would to her son.

But a few times later, you realised that it was an emotional manipulation on his side. It was his way of shutting you up and making you feel guilty for being worried about the things you had every right to be worried about. You loved him – and yes, you knew what he was like when you chose to be his girl and you didn’t want to tame him but… You were worried. Because you loved him and didn’t want to see him in jail or hurt. Was it that difficult to understand? 

And now it happened again – he had gotten himself into a fight, half of his face bruised and fresh cuts on his forehead and a cheek. Benny was sitting on the edge of the bed and you were next to him, patching him up. Clearing the wounds carefully with pursed lips, trying not to say anything that would anger him further because he was still pretty riled up.

“What?” He asked eventually after one of your sighs.

“You know what,” you pointed out and went back to taking care of him.

“That guy deserved it, I won and I’m fine. What’s your problem again?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine?” You snorted at him and pointed at the mirror. “Look at your face, Benny. You’re not fucking fine,” you gritted your teeth. “Or perhaps you’ve taken a few too many hits and you’ve got brain damage now, talking nonsense. Wouldn’t surprise me,” you added angrily.

“Alright, enough,” he mumbled and shoved your hands away as he reached to the nightstand for a cigarette. He lit it and gave you the look you had known already very well. “I should just leave,” he told you. “You won’t have to worry and get angry anymore when I go.”

Perhaps you should have been used to this now but perhaps it was that one time too many. You had no answer to this, no willpower to argue. Maybe he was thinking of leaving you and that was why he kept repeating it all the time? Maybe your constant worrying was too much for him? Maybe he wanted a woman who would only care about getting fucked and taking rides and that was it? Maybe he didn’t treat this relationship as seriously as you did?

Fighting all these thoughts in your head, you just took the bowl of cold water filled with bloody cotton pads and you left him alone in the bedroom. You went downstairs to clean the mess up and to curl up on the couch in front of TV.

After half an hour you heard his light snoring coming out of the bedroom and you decided to go to sleep, too. You felt extremely numb inside, though. It was difficult to fall asleep – laying next to a man you loved so much but everything seemed to be so complicated. Sometimes love was not enough. And love itself was never complicated – but people sometimes were. Benny certainly was. And maybe it would be for the best to let him go, to let him leave, as he was always saying.

He was a man of the road, after all. He valued freedom more than anything else. Of course he would leave one day. What even had you been thinking? That he’d stay forever with you? That he wouldn’t drive away one day?

As you imagined it happening, your heart squeezed inside your chest. You realised how much it would hurt when he leaves. You had to start preparing yourself already, you decided. So it would hurt less. So it wouldn’t kill you.

You had to distance yourself from him.

At first Benny didn’t notice your odd behaviour. Well, he did. But at first it wasn’t so odd. It was nothing new that you were moody and offended at something so he just let it pass as usual. But on the third day of a house not being filled with your talking and your laughter, on the third day of you giving him a cold shoulder in bed… He started to contemplate what could be the reason behind it.

And during the picnic, you were spending time with everybody around except for him. The message was pretty clear. Even some of his friends pointed it out. Something was not right about the way you behaved around him. 

You were drinking with Betty by the fire and giggling with her about something. Benny was watching you from afar, smoking a cigarette and gritting his teeth. He missed that laughter, that giggle, your smile, the sparkle in your eye. He missed your soft hands caressing him whenever you could – playing with the rings on his fingers, tracing the outlines of his tattoos. He missed your lips kissing the top of his nose and his eyelids after telling him goodnight and he missed having you underneath him and covering your whole face with tiny little kisses as he was tickling your sides.

He threw the cigarette away to step on it and fixed his leather jacket before approaching you nonchalantly as he usually would. You didn’t even look up at him but Betty did as she stopped talking to you as if you had been discussing some secrets together.

“Benny?” She asked.

“I gotta speak to my girl,” Benny explained and the intensity of his gaze made you finally look up.

You gave Betty an annoyed look but you nodded your head and Johnny’s wife left you alone with your boyfriend. You chewed on the inside of your cheek before taking a sip of your beverage.

“What is it?” You asked with a sigh.

“Should be me askin’, don’t you think?” Benny stood next to you with his hands inside of his pockets, trying to look at your face but it was difficult since you were determined to avoid his gaze. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” you chuckled at his question sarcastically. 

“You’re actin’ up ever since…”

“Ever since you told me you were gonna leave,” you snapped suddenly as you finally laid your eyes on him. “So yeah, what are you even still doing here?” You added and tried to walk away but Benny grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his chest despite your protests.

“Is that what it’s all about, huh?” He raised his eyebrows but his dismissive tone was not helping at all.

“You’re seriously surprised, Benny? How many more times can I handle listening to that, hm? What do you think? That you talking shit like that won’t mess with my head? That it won’t have any effect on me, huh? Please!” You managed to free your wrist from his grasp. He kept staring at you with widened eyes as he was blinking slowly and analysing your every word and expression. “You wanna leave? You wanna go? Sure, go on. But I’m trying to distance myself before it happens, so…” Your voice trembled as a lump formed in your throat. “So it won’t kill me when you do,” you finished in a broken whisper while tears pricked your eyes.

After a short moment, you walked away quickly. You didn’t want to start crying and make a scene in front of everybody. And you didn’t want to start crying in front of Benny either – to let him know how much you cared about him when he was constantly talking about leaving? That felt humiliating.

So, you went inside the house and to the kitchen where you put the bottle down next to dozens of other empty bottles. Grabbing the edges of the sink, you tried to catch your breath back and calm yourself down.

When you heard the footsteps behind you, you straightened your back and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You turned around and saw Benny, leaning on the wall on the other side of the kitchen.

“I’m not plannin’ to leave any time soon,” Benny muttered nervously.

“Any time soon?” You shook your head. “Wow.”

“I mean…” He sighed and approached you. “You know, I might hit the road one day, leave forever. You know I hate being tied to one place,” he explained. “But I’m gonna take my doll with me. What gave you an idea I wouldn’t?” He lifted your chin up.

“What gave me an idea, Benny?! You did!” You pointed out with widened eyes.

“Aw, kitty, I’m just sayin’ stuff like that so you stop lecturing me, haven’t you realised that already?” Benny leaned in to cup your face and rub your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Shush, don’t you cry…”

“Benny, I…” You caught your breath and raised your hands to cup his face, too. You missed the feeling of his beard under your soft fingertips. You scratched him the way he liked it and cracked a smile at him. The very first in a few days. “Benny, I’m worried. And I will always be. Always, you hear me? Because I love you. You can’t expect me not to… You just can’t. And doing that by telling me you’re gonna leave is the worst way of doing so. It’s killing me each time. It’s awful,” you confessed and looked down. “You can’t make me feel guilty for the fact I worry about you. I am the only one who does.”

It was true. His friends from the gang adored him but they didn’t care much about his health or troubles with the law. In fact – they encouraged Benny’s getting into fights or getting arrested. They liked him for the fact that he was wild and difficult to tame. They cheered on when he had a new bruise or a new case in the courthouse. You didn’t. 

“I’ve never had anyone worrying about me, dollie,” Benny confessed softly. “I’m not used to that.”

“I’m not doing that to annoy you. I worry because I love you,” you looked up again and bit on your lower lip.

“I know. Because I worry about you, too,” he rubbed his nose with yours after leaning in even closer. “I worry about you all the time. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“So why can’t you understand that what I feel towards you is just the same? That I’m not doing it to annoy you?” You asked.

“It’s just hard to believe, I guess,” Benny shrugged his arms. “That a doll like you can love a guy like me so much.”

“Oh, Benny…” Now you didn’t know what to say as your heart broke in half.

“And when you’re angry at me when I get hurt… I feel like a burden,” he added.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “I just feel so helpless sometimes and I get angry… Because I don’t know how to make you finally understand that I want you to stop getting in trouble,” you sniffled your tears back and Benny wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you close into a tight embrace.

“Trouble is my middle name, kitty. But I’m already tryin’ my best not to mess around too much since I have you,” he promised and kissed the top of his head. “You know, before I met you, I used to think I would die young. But I don’t want that to happen anymore, yeah. I wanna grow old with you, baby.”

His words were like honey being poured onto your heart. You squeezed him tight and pressed your ear to his chest where his heart was.

“I love you, Benny.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Don’t give me silent treatment anymore, I can’t handle that.”

“I won’t,” you giggled, with your face still pressed to his chest.

“Good.”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[mistymisfit]

short hurt/comfort blurb

summary: reader is taken as hostage, Red Hodd comes to save her (roughly I'll write a better summary later lol)

wc: 2k

warnings: fem!reader, pre-established relationship ,reader being kidnapped (duh) and drugged, one nasty comment from the intentionally vague bad guy, mentions of blood, lots of violence, guns, etc, etc. (not beta read as always, so ill fix typos tomorrow lol) and non sexual nudity !

a/n: lowkey hate how this turned out, but have this as I'm finishing an actual fic.

You were cold, you have been cold for a while now. You don't know how long it's been or why you were kidnapped to begin with. They've always kept you in the same dark room, there are no windows and no light except for the one that shines through the space between the door and the floor. Your hands were chained in front of you to the floor, and they left some fabric tied around your mouth to keep you from screaming. Not like you had any strength in you to even do anything but hope and pray Jason could find you soon. You discarded the theory of it being human trafficking after the first few hours since they never touched you. In fact, you hadn't even seen the face of your captors. You've only heard faint voices in the distance, just enough to identify their accent but not enough to decipher what they said.

Or that was until you heard an argument right outside the door. One man, who sounded older, was chastising the other. You hear the words "die" and "overdose", but it is hard to keep your focus. Your own thoughts feel slow, having come to the realization way too late that they'd probably drugged you, and that's why your body felt so heavy. Then the door opens, and you have to close your eyes because it feels like the light is burning them. You barely manage to move your head away when some hands grab your shoulders. They sit you on the floor and shake you, and you want to react, but your body's barely able to move on its own.

"Kid? You alive?" One of them asks, and when they get no answer, they resort to shaking you harder. When that doesn't work either, a heavy hand delivers a hard slap to your face.

To that you finally let out a pained grunt, and you blink slowly until you open your eyes. The younger one sighs in relief, and the older says something about their boss killing them if you were dead. That leads you to believe you were there for a reason, maybe they found out you technically work with Red Hood and they're using you to get to him. Or worse, they found out you were dating.  

"That's it, stay awake" He lays you down on the floor again.

"What are we doing this for?" The younger one asks. He looks on edge, shaky with nerves. It may be his first time henching, or so you could guess.

"Dunno, boss told us to keep an eye on her until he needs her"

You're left again in the dark before you can even process what they looked like. And you're slightly grateful for it, at least your head didn't feel like exploding once they shut the door again. It feels like an eternity passes while you're still in that room. So you try to notice all the details you can, there's no traffic noise or any other type of noise for that matter. Once you get used to the dark, you also see the small puddle forming from the leak coming through the ceiling. Then you also try to remember how you got there, you were leaving... someplace, it's all fuzzy. But you do remember the hard blow to your head, and then waking up here.

You guess it must have been a couple of hours, that just felt longer to you, when you hear some commotion outside. Running, and clicking, probably from loading guns. The gunshots came later, and did not stop for long. The noise was incessant, along with yelling and words you couldn't make out. You weakly managed to curl up and cover your ears with your hands. And you stay tense in that position until you hear the creak of the door once more. You don't dare to move even when you hear the footsteps getting closer to you.

"Not a step closer" A man grabs your hair, pulling you up, and pressing the nuzzle of his gun to your temple. It feels hot against your skin, almost burning, so you could only assume it's been fired recently. You finally lay your eyes on Jason, or rather Red Hood, he's covered in blood, and you could swear his eyes were shining red under the hood and domino mask.

"Let her go" He's practically barking, you know he gets like this when he's scared. He starts attacking even when he's backed against a corner. You wouldn't notice, but he immediately recognized your lost gaze and weakened mobility. It was like seeing his mother all over again. And that, along with the red imprint across your face, made him even angrier.

"You sure she only works for you?" He taunts, and before Jason can do anything, he presses the gun harder into you as if daring him to try to make a move. "'cause if I had such a hot piece of ass on my payroll..."

You close your eyes tightly, tears falling from them. You're sure you hear Jason replying, telling him off, but you're too scared to pay attention to anything but the metal on your skin. That is until he uses it to push down the fabric against your mouth, he probably asked you something you didn't listen to.

He laughs, and adds: "Maybe my guys gave her a little too much to keep her calm"

Jason is about to explode with anger, the way he talks about you, and what he's done to you. The way he so easily messed with his people, his territory, and with his partner out of everyone. He'll make sure to make an example out of him for anyone who decides to mess with him in the future. So when the man pulls the trigger, only for a click to come out of his weapon, you let out a sigh in relief. And Jason charges at the guy, dragging him away from you and out of the room to deliver the beat down of his life. Hitting as hard as he could until he made sure the guy would stop breathing, and making it as painful as possible. Then, for good measure, he empties what's left of his magazine on his head and multiple parts of his body. The body's beaten beyond recognition, and now he's got even more blood splattered over him. But him, and everyone who works for him, were now dead, so at least you could rest assured no one could harm you and go unpunished.

He goes back, only to find you curled up once more, and holding your head. You flinch when his hand touches you, but he tries not to take it personally, he reminds you it's him and that you're okay as he unties the black bandanna pulled down on your neck. He removes the muzzle from his face and pulls down the hood when you raise your head to look at him, giving you a reassuring nod.

"Get me out of here" You beg, pulling on your chains. He nods, picking the lock as quick as he can. You cling to him once you're freed, and he notices how despite your effort, your grip is weak. Even when you pull on his clothes to get him close enough to kiss him.

He freezes for a second before tightly holding the back of your head with one hand, the other resting on your back to support you. He shouldn't, he should stop you and tell you to do this when you're in the right head space so he wouldn't feel as if he was taking advantage of you. But being so close to losing you, he can't find the will to tell you no. And he melts into your lips, red smearing both of you now. Violence is rewarded with affection, that's a first for him. You don't seem to care about what he's done to get to you, all that matters is that he did, and now you're with him.

"I'll take you to the ER" He runs his hand up and down your back to soothe you, but you start sobbing into his blood-soaked clothes anyways.

"No, no, please," you shake your head "I just wanna go home"

He agrees with just a nod, picking you up as he tries to shield you from seeing the bloodbath he left on his way to you. If anyone knew how to take care of a person in your state, it'd be him. The gruesome scene and trail of bodies were bound to get him in deep family trouble, but he couldn't seem to care about it. Not when it assured your safety. Once he's made sure you're holding tightly and buckled your helmet right, he speeds to his nearest safe house. Regretting getting there in his bike instead of a car, even if it allowed him to get there faster.

"I know you said home, but I can't risk anyone following-" He rambled while taking off your helmet.

"I get it" You cut him off, trying your best to smile and not look like you were about to throw up.

He's quiet leading you up to the apartment, it's an old building and it looks more or less abandoned. That's probably why he picked it, no nosy neighbors. The place is on the first floor, luckily since it had no elevator. Even though he still carried you up the stairs, and only set you down when you were in the bathroom.

"Right, I'll wait outside " His eyes avoid you as he leaves some clean towels near the shower.

"Wait,"Your voice is meek, almost scared. You stop him from leaving by hooking a finger on one of his belt loops  "stay with me, what if I pass out?"

He nods, helping you pull up your shirt. You look up at him, not uttering a word but willing him to take the mask off. Luckily, he understands your staring and does so, leaving it on the floor next to your discarded clothes. Then he kneels in front of you, pulling your pants down, and you hold onto his shoulders as you step out of them. You mouth a quiet thank you when he looks up to you, right before he leaves a soft kiss on your hip and then on your stomach. His grip on your waist feels desperate, clinging not to let you go ever again.

"I'm okay," You reassure, but when his eyes meet yours again, they're brimmed with tears. You untie the bandages around his forearms, guiding him to take his clothes off too.

Jason's trying really hard not to cry right now, and you know it so when you walk in the the shower you turn your back to him to give him some space. But don't fail to notice how the water running down the drain turns red when he kisses the top of your head and stays close to you. He does a great job of gently cleaning you up, and so do you, washing the blood off him once you do turn around. You don't say anything about it or the bruised knuckles or any other bruise for that matter. He's thankful for that, thankful he didn't lose you or that you haven't opposed his methods. You stay under the warm water for a little longer after you're done, holding on to him and breathing slowly as his hand soothes you by tracing circles on your back.

"Jay?" You look up to him.

"Hm?"

"It's not your fault"

"I know," He replies, and you immediately think liar, you do think it's your fault. But don't have the will to argue with him, yet, so you settle for leaving a kiss on his bicep. "You wanna go to bed now?"

"You'll lay down with me?" He hums in response, closing the faucet behind you.He wraps you in a surprisingly soft and warm towel, then helps you dry off and put on some of the spare clothes he kept there. For the rest of the night, he'd watch you until you get down from whatever they gave you, make sure you don't stop breathing or choke on your own vomit. He'd worry and insist on breaking up tomorrow when you feel better and have the strength to argue and call him an idiot for it, when you are able to think better than him and insist you'd always be safer with him rather than without him.

[pepsiboyy]

BELLYACHE.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: where reader comes home after a long day with a stomach ache to her loving boyfriend :p warnings: established relationship, use of y/n lol, FLUFFF!!!!!!!!!!!, cursing a/n: hi idk i thought of this and wrote it in like 20 min and u guys are BOMBING cruise control so YAYYY i hope it is freaking awesome love u all <33

your breath was shaky and your eyes were lidded as you searched for your keys in all of your pockets. the fresh love hoodie that draped over your body was the only thing keeping you at a decent body temperature as you stood outside the triplets' home, a hand clutching your stomach. it had been aching since earlier today, and you couldn't help but assume it was just your cramps.

"fuckin, where is it."

your eyes scanned your backpack, now, for the spare.

"there you are."

you quickly grab the key and open the front door with it, letting out a deep sigh of relief as you let yourself in and shut the door quickly, yet quietly behind you.

after a long day of nonstop work and being on your feet, you were just ready to lay down with your boyfriend. tomorrow was your first day off in about a week now. your body couldn't take anymore, especially not the nonstop stabbing pains that no amount of painkiller seemed to kill.

with a deep sigh, you set your things down at the kitchen table and moved to grab a soda in the fridge. you took two pepsis from their box and shut the fridge, smiling softly to yourself at the thought of your boyfriend's expression when receiving a pepsi from you.

finally, a moment to yourself and your boyfriend where you two can relax and not worry about you having work the next morning. relax and just have your boy to yourself, relax and just-

thud.

your eyes widened and your body froze its movements as one of the pepsis rolled down the stairs and cracked open, exploding all over the floor and against the cabinets.

footsteps came rushing up the stairs, and you turned your head to see your boyfriend, chris, hair disheveled like he had just awoken from the best sleep of his life.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you set the other pepsi down and let your arms fall to your sides, tears running down your cheeks.

"hey hey hey," chris quickly made his way over and, careful not to step in the soda on the floor, stood in front of you and cradled your face in his hands. "what's wrong my love? it's just a pepsi, and-"

"it was the last one." you mumbled before burying your face into your hands.

"it's okay, really, you can have this one," he held up the pepsi that you had set on the counter. "or we can share it," he chuckled, knowing you would offer.

you let out a deep sigh and shook your head, looking at chris for a moment before looking away. "i just want to be with you. i'm tired of being on my feet, i'm sick of work, i'm sick of people, my stomach is killing me and it won't stop," you sniffled, looking up at him.

chris nodded as he listened closely before coming forward and setting a hand against your cheek. he gently kissed your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs. "go get changed into something comfortable, i will clean this up." he whispered softly, smiling reassuringly at you.

with a soft nod, you collected your things, including the stray pepsi and made your way down the stairs and into chris's room.

you let out a deep sigh as you took in the scent of his room, almost immediately feeling comfort. you set your backpack down by his desk and began changing into some pajamas you had laying around in chris's room. you pulled the hoodie back over you and shifted to carefully lay against chris's bed, your mind and body finding comfort in his sheets while trying to ignore the undying pain in your stomach.

your eyes almost immediately began to close.

"how you feelin?"

you lifted your head to see chris, smiling softly when noticing the cup of chamomile tea and some painkillers. he shut the door behind him with his foot and made his way over to the bedside table, setting them down by you.

"'m okay." you mumbled as you smiled brightly at him.

god, you loved him so much. it's the little things. really.

chris nodded as he shifted to lay beside you, humming to himself in the process.

you took a sip of the tea he made for you, humming at the taste and setting it down. "thank you for the tea, really."

chris nodded as he shifted to lay down, his head in the crook of your neck now as he gently pulled you against him by your waist.

his hand moved to gently tuck under your fresh love hoodie and gently graze your stomach, his hand resting there softly.

your face felt hot. every time chris got remotely close to you, it did. this kid gave you butterflies at any given moment.

"is this okay?"

chris's voice ripped you from your thoughts as you nodded and closed your eyes, moving to gently wrap your arms around his shoulders, one of your hands moving to gently bury into his hair.

chris hummed as he felt your touch, his eyes closing as he allowed his thumb to graze back and forth on your skin softly.

"get some sleep alright?" chris mumbled softly, his voice groggy.

you smile softly and nodded, as you knew chris was already beginning to trail off.

"i love you so much," you whispered, eyes closing as you leaned down to gently kiss the top of his head, before you allowed your head to fall back and and your mind slowly drift to asleep.

"i love you too, y/n."

chris fell asleep, his hand never removing itself from your stomach and/or waist and his breath soft against your chest.

and when you woke up, your bellyache was gone.

[midnightorchids]

More soft Jason ideas since you deserve it and your wonderful and supper cool Girldad!Jason BRRROOOOOOO Oh my goddddddd ok like- - Jason is the kind of dad who always has music playing in the house, he mindlessly sways and hums along as he makes morning (or night-time) pancakes for you and his little girl. She'll come running up to him, her thick black hair tangled over her face, and pull on his pant leg. He'll sweep her up into his arms, her small head fitting perfectly against his chest as she watches him make breakfast, still somewhat asleep and aloof. He'll start bopping along to the music with her little hands around his neck, filling up the kitchen with shrieks of laughter and he peppers her soft cheeks with kisses. - I feel like you and him would like in a beach house, somewhere away from the city and his old job as Red Hood. Your daughter would bring home buckets of pretty rocks and sea glass that Jason keeps in jars along the living room windowsills. He has to dump some back onto the shore every time he sees her washing the new rocks and shells on the front porch. - After long summer days of playing and wrestling in the waves, you would all curl up for a post-beach nap. Smelling like salt with the prick of the sun settling into your tired bones. Your daughter would fit perfectly between you two. Jasons hand behind his head with his other wrapped firmly around you and his little girl. - Get's his daughter obsessed with reading just as much as he is. Would build her book-shelf after book-self as her collection of story-books and middle grade fairy books expands. - Helps his daughter roast marsh mellows during the beach bonfires you guys have when Roy and his daughter visit. Your daughter and Lian are best friends- playdates once a week kind of thing. - When she's little, he'll always have his daughter on his knee during big family dinners. He let's her eat anything off of his plate, keeping his arm around her as he talks with Dick. - Overall, just- every-time he falls asleep next to you he feels like crying into your shoulder, unable to thank you enough for bringing such a precious perfect bundle of laughter into his life. Huge 'my wife showed me how to love and my daughter showed me how to forgive energy lmao.

I want night time pancakes with Jason and my little baby girl wtf!!! Also, thank you so much for sending this in. I love it and I literally fail to understand how you pull up with the most amazing scenarios every time, I’m actually in love with your writing!! You’re amazing! Anyways lol!! I’m gonna be honest, I don’t want to have biological children but for Jason… I’d do it, no hesitation. He’d be the most amazing girl dad, I love him so so so much.

I’m not sure if people have already said this before but can you imagine him learning how to do your daughter’s hair!! He has a YouTube hair tutorial playing on the TV as your daughter sits in between his legs. He’s got bobby pins in between his teeth and hair ties around his wrist. He’s using a small comb to gently brush through her little curls.

He’s learning how to braid her hair and he’s having some difficulty, but he’s a persistent man, and like he always tells his little girl, practice makes perfect! He will sit there for days, hours upon hours, trying to make the most flawless set of Dutch braids. Once he’s succeeded at his craft, he’ll admire his work and will tell his daughter to go show you his skills. And oh my goodness, how adorable does she look showing off her father’s braiding skills!!

I also saw a quote on Instagram earlier today and it said that “tenderness is in the hands” and I immediately thought of Jason. There is no one with gentler hands than Jason. His fingers may be rough and his knuckles might be permanently bruised from his past, but when he interlocks his hands with his baby girl, they are the most delicate and warmest hands she has ever felt.

He will run his fingers through her hair, as she lays her tiny head against his chest and he’ll read her favourite stories. She’ll take his hands out of her hair and just play with his fingers. Trace little shapes on his palm, measure her small hand against his big, calloused ones. It’ll melt Jason’s heart and he’ll feel like crying. There will be days where he needs to stop reading and take a minute to appreciate the tenderness of the moment, without completely crumbling.

Also, I kind of hate to say it, but it’s so true. Jason would totally try to heal his daddy issues by being the best possible parent.

He’d treat his daughter like an actual princess and not just in terms of materialistic things. He’d be there for her in every circumstance; he’d be the best moral support and the best cheerleader anyone could ask for.

If your daughter plays any sports or plays an instrument, any thing really, he’d always be there to encourage her and comfort her when it started to become tough. He’d attended every game, every practice, every performance. Like I said, the best cheerleader.

Basically long story short, I’d die for soft, girl dad Jason.

[beemochi-art]

First off, I love your art! But is it okay if I ask for some more Bumblebee content? Please?

🥺👉👈🙏✨✨

(Dumps a bunch of art on your lap.)

You arrive just in time. Cause Bee got a slight redesign and a final design of him without his battle mask. Along with some characteristics of his.

His mask has two modes, the normal one that just covered the bottom of his face, his battle mask covers his whole face.

Bumblebee loves humans!! Some how he connected within them better. Bee often visits his human friends. He’s like a stray cat honestly, he pops in then pops out. He’s a pretty loving guy but can be stand off ish towards new people (he’s just shy probably.)

Bumblebee’s lil finals will lay down as cover the black stripes when he’s being nice or is submissive. Usually they stand up, all the way up means he’s aware. His little things will often betray how he’s really feeling. Same goes for his optics.

Bumblebee has to closely manage the other Autobots and showed them how things worked. Optimus is eager to learn the rules, the rest of the bots, not so much. Traffic laws? Bleh! Who needs them! He became used to running cons off earth so being around other bots was definitely something he had to get used to. Optimus may be the boss but everyone knows earth is Bumblebee’s domain, he’s the one who came up with the rule that no one is to harm humans. Bee isn’t afraid to challenge his superiors. He has a habit of getting in the middle of fights to try and break them up. Because of this he has a certain level of respect from his fellow autobots.

Though sometimes bumblebee had difficulty adjusting to being around the other bots he connected most to Elita. She was the last to show up to earth. Her place among the others is a little ambiguous. She does get treated different, the most glaring was Optimus blaitent and seemingly out of character mistreatment and aggressive towards her. This was not something bumblebee would allow to happen. The first time Op pulled that in front of him, Bee got in his face. Bumblebee can tell she’s got a lot on her mind and that her heart is somewhere else. Sometimes the stress does get to her, Bee is always there to be a friend she can count on.

WHELP!! Here is all the bumblebee content I have! For Now. Feel free to ask more about him. I finally have a version of him I like to draw lol.