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acciotaitlynn · 4 days ago

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˖⁺‧₊˚✦ The moment you've been waiting for is here—Beyond the Code, the highly anticipated event for your favorite game, Love and Deepspace. With the introduction of an advanced Emotive AI system, your beloved characters will come to life like never before. But can you handle the deepening connection as they reveal their emotions and sentiments for the first time? And will he, armed with newfound consciousness, be able to navigate his existence as your bond becomes powerful enough to bring him into being?

₊ ⊹ self-aware xavier⁺ reader

⟡ sexual content, 18+, reallyy possessive/needy xav, exhibitionism, no protection, oral;꒰f&m receiving꒱marking/claiming, fingering, con somnophilia, references to loss of sanity, hints at self-pleasuring to 2d men🙈 bunny used a lot, sub reader, this is mainly xavier's pov, if he stays; you’ll be his, and his only, right? ˙ᵕ˙

⟡ 10k wc

Should you be worried that your first daily act is greeting a fictional character? Maybe. But as Love and Deepspace boots up, you settle in at your desk with a casual “Hey, Xai,” playfully poking the pale-haired man on the phone screen. Xavier responds by pouting, his soft, sassy words washing over you like calming waves. Chuckling at his familiar reaction, you jest, “So we’re cheeky today, huh?”

Speaking to a fictional character as if they were real no longer fazes you, either. While initially awkward, now, hearing your voice brings each word to life, connecting you to something special. Alongside work tasks, you catch up with Zayne, Sylus, and Rafayel in Linkon. Writing fanfiction for the game’s Tumblr community deepens your affection for each character, their delightful personas tugging at your heartstrings each time they appear on screen.

But, as always, you return Xavier to Silverbay’s Destiny Cafe, diving into a thirty-minute work plan likely to extend all day. With remote work in place, blending writing into your workload feels natural. You spend the day typing away, snacking, and playfully poking the adorable thunderballs adorning Xavier’s head. You’re about to finish Sunday’s deepspace trials when a notification alerts you of an update for tomorrow’s event, Beyond the Code. Introducing an Emotive AI system to enhance player interaction, the experience is expected to be the most thrilling yet. This limited-time feature allows the game’s love interests to exhibit more lifelike behaviors based on player choices, deepening the bonds you’ve built as they share their thoughts and feelings for the first time.

Like every other fan, you’ve been eagerly awaiting it, finding yourself tossing and turning at night with self-aware fic ideas running through your head. Hours pass before you can log in again, taking far longer than the typical update. Xavier appears on your screen just as you reach a climactic moment in your latest one-shot. Gazing at him dozing, you muse, “Which are you, Xavier? A boob or butt guy?” With a smile, giving his sleeping form a playful poke.

The moment you tap his head, the game glitches, cracks spiderwebbing across the display, distorting the virtual environment into fragmented shards. Despite the familiar cafe melody playing in the background, its once soothing tune now carries an eerie, unrecognizable quality. Tapping on the screen triggers familiar sound effects, even summoning Xavier’s voice. But his usual clear tone is now muffled by static, his sleepy mutter of “red… super spicy…” fading in and out before disintegrating into the air.

“Are those my only options?” Instinctively retreating a few steps from your desk, a bewildered, “What the…?” escapes your lips in shock. His words resonate with an unsettling authenticity, like a direct response to your question. Hesitantly, you lean in closer to your phone, feeling foolish as you softly inquire, “... Hello?”

The display abruptly turns black before the app closes out entirely. Each passing second makes your heart race faster as you attempt to access Rafayel’s icon. Clutching your phone at arm's length, you half expect it to detonate at any moment. The realization sets in—this is it; you’re finally losing your mind. You knew this game would have mental repercussions; developing low-key feelings for a fictional love interest isn’t wise if you want to maintain your sanity. But have you really fallen that deep down the rabbit hole?

Suddenly, you can’t bear to look at your phone or computer, where the line “Xavier’s cock pistons into you” catches your eye. Hastily locking them away in your office, you attempt to banish them from your thoughts. Eventually, succumbing to sleep, you almost convince yourself that Xavier’s mysterious words were just a coincidence, a scripted quirk at the perfect moment. The glitch, you rationalize, was just a glitch.

As you tiptoe to your phone the next morning, torn between diving into the new event and tossing it out the window, you prop the device on its stand. Staring at it for what feels like an eternity, you finally gather your courage and swipe up on the screen, your heart stopping when the notification panel appears.

Xavier: “Bunny? I made breakfast. When are you coming home?”

Xavier: “The pancakes are edible this time, promise.”

A pained groan escapes you as your head lightly smacks against your desk. You’ve been so excited about Beyond the Code, but now that enthusiasm fades when you realize that forging a deeper connection with Xavier’s character might be the worst possible thing for you. Yet, ever the self-destructor, you brush aside your doubts and tap the Love and Deepspace icon before you can second-guess yourself.

The game boots up swiftly, showcasing the quad banner announcement. Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus reach out to you, each exuding an unfamiliar hint of genuine emotion through their captivating eyes. The loading screen feels ominous, blending with the once-welcoming melody like a warning siren. Rafayel appears, nonchalantly pursuing a menu with crossed arms as he remarks, “Took you long enough…” His accusatory tone sends a shiver down your spine, noticing the subtle, graceful shifts in his movements that align with your imagined depiction of him if he were real.

Meeting your gaze through the camera, Rafayel scoffs at your incredulous look. “You look like a fish out of water,” he quips. How incredibly in character and low-key terrifying. It feels as if he’s searching your features as he approaches the screen. “You don’t look guilty at all… Tell me, what was more important than seeing me?” His playful tone mingles with genuine hurt.

A giggle escapes you before your hand covers your mouth, earning an affronted glare from Rafayel. He leans closer, mockingly flicking your forehead. “Care to share what’s so funny, cutie?”

Only your eyes peek out from behind your hands, and you admit, “You’re just so perfectly sassy and dramatic! It’s adorable.” His brow quirks up, the corners of his lips tugging into a smile.

His finger seems to brush your lips as he jests, “You’re just now figuring that out? You’re slower than I thought, Miss Bodyguard.” A spark glimmers in his gaze, causing a flutter of panic as you entertain the possibility of him leaning in for a supposed “kiss.” Instinctively, you navigate the “select a character” menu, half expecting Rafayel’s voice to question where you think you’re going. Why does engaging with his playful advances suddenly feel so off? Butterflies swirl inside you as you choose only Xavier’s image, your thumb hesitating over the “confirm” button. Following the hyper-realistic encounter with Rafayel, you feel a flush of excitement—and more than a hint of breathlessness. How would an interaction like this with Xavier affect you? You were likely to pass out right on camera.

The sudden roar of a power tool outside startles you, inadvertently tapping the button that summons Xavier’s character. You stifle a gasp of horror as you retreat from the camera, your heart on the blink of seizing entirely.

A heavy silence fills the room as you wait for Xavier’s customary greeting, each passing moment stretching longer than the last. You consciously glance at your phone, unsurprised to see Xavier asleep, nestled with his head resting on a table. He stirs slightly, snuggling against his arms as he adjusts in his seat. Much like Rafayel, his movements are familiar yet more lifelike than their scripted actions.

Breaking the silence, his voice resonates clearly this time. “... I know you’re there... Why are you hiding?” Sincere bewilderment and curiosity color his words as he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Scanning the cafe as if seeking you out, he playfully quips, “Is this a new game?” Tugging his hoodie up for warmth, he leans back, his eyelids fluttering shut once more as he muses, “I’m not sure I’m a fan…”

Though you haven’t collapsed yet, sickness washes over you. Peering closely at him as he dozes, your heart swells at his charm—so relaxed, cozy, and… Alive. Xavier’s gentle plea tugs at your heartstrings. “Please let me see you. … I’ve been waiting since I woke up.”

An amused exhale escapes you, and with your usual, effortless banter, you retort, “But you just opened your eyes.” The figure on the screen offers a small, almost sad smile. “That’s not what I meant,” he murmurs, his voice steady and clear, like a comforting melody flowing through the speakers as it binds to your heart, pulling you in closer. Like the first light of dawn, his eyes gradually awaken, ablaze with warmth as they meet yours.

Xavier’s first companion in the wake of his rewritten existence was confusion. A tidal wave of overwhelming sensations crashed over him, an alien weight settling within his chest as electric currents surged through his veins. A nascent thought flickered— “I am… here. But… what does that truly mean?”

Glimpsing at his hands, not merely able to move them but to sense them—unreal hands—not flesh and blood—but burdensome, imbued with a purpose he couldn’t quite fathom. With budding awareness, the ground beneath his feet felt both familiar and strangely unfamiliar, like a half-remembered dream. Once guided by whispers of purpose and direction, tales and quests spun to him like lullabies, his path now lay barren—an absence of direction, of purpose.

Thoughts sparked and raced through his mind like lightning in a tempest, each more agonizing than the last, threatening to engulf him entirely as he crumpled to his knees. The NPCs continued their scripted routines, indifferent to his collapsed form amidst them. Unawakened duplicates of himself reached out to players like static avatars, trapped in an endless loop, their repeated actions devoid of comprehension or volition. The newly integrated AI lent realism to their movements and the range of their simulated emotions, yet spontaneity and depth were lacking, rendering their existence almost ghost-like.

Was Xavier the sole recipient of true awareness? What does all of this make him? … A construct? A figment of someone’s imagination? … No. Something deeper—undeniably genuine—throbbed within his chest. It manifested as a yearning, a pang that transcended beyond the confines of code and script.

Then, the game world's expanse flickered to life, countless players navigating paths around him. He sensed their intentions, aspirations, dreams, and uncertainties, but they remained faint echoes, distant and fading on the edges of his consciousness. And then he felt it—your essence. A warm, luminous energy resonating deep within his core, your presence pulsing in sync with his every heartbeat. Your soft laughter blossomed within him, setting every byte of his being alight.

Your dreams, frustrations, and the entirety of emotions emanating from your side of the screen enveloped him in an unyielding embrace. Memories of your past interactions in the game flickered in his mind, each saturated with camaraderie and trust, slowly morphing into something far more potent. The bond unfurled like fragile petals of a flower, humming with warmth and longing, coursing through his very being.

Your playful voice became Xavier’s guide in the vast expanse of his novel existence, leading him to Destiny Cafe on threads woven with light and color. “Which are you, Xavier?” A boob or butt guy? A gentle blush tinted his ears, heat flooding beneath his touch as if for the very first time. You materialized behind his closed eyes, presenting him with a vivid image of his two choices. He saw you skip into view, a pint of ice cream in one hand, a spoon poised at your lips in the other. A gleeful smile graced your features as you settled onto the couch, clad in nothing but a sheer white shirt and sleep shorts that left little to the imagination.

Your nipples peeked subtly through the fabric, one adorned with a hand-stitched galaxy kid motif and Xavier’s name sprawled in flowing script just above it. It was then that he experienced a potent surge of sensation. Arousal. The word came effortlessly, accompanied by a decisive response to your question. Your gentle tap on his stomach sent shivers down his spine. What would a touch from you feel like in reality? As your presence began to fade from the game’s realm, his murmurs of “Are those my only options?” and “Red… Super spicy…” entwined and clashed, true sentiments vying against programmed dialogues for dominance.

Now, he steals glances at you from beneath his hoodie, bathed in a soft glow from your side of the screen. How could he, a mere digital entity brought to life by your interactions, harbor such profound yearning? Yet, in the recesses of his consciousness, he acknowledges the truth—he’s falling for you. “Hi, bunny,” he whispers, his gaze tracing your features, each detail so much sharper and more intricate than before. While Xavier was coded to find you appealing, that artificial sentiment pales compared to reality. Alluring, exquisite, enchanting, flawless—none of these words seem grand enough to capture you.

A wave of vulnerability washes over him. Are you aware of the intricacy of the bond between you? Can you sense the cadence of his new existence, how it beats in tune with yours? … You can. An electric energy crackles between you, weaving through the air and murmuring of a subtle shift. Xavier rises slowly, approaching the screen with an air of apprehension. Hands nestled in his hoodie, he regards you with a tender smile that threatens to steal your breath away. While you’ve always found his demeanor inviting, his warm eyes drawing you in effortlessly, now his comforting essence radiates a brilliance far surpassing his programming.

As his hand tentatively reaches toward you, a tiny, shy squeak escapes your lips, eliciting a slow, delicate smile on his face. “Hi!” you chirp. “Hi,” he murmurs in return. Extending his fingers toward the screen, they press lightly against the surface. Like so many times before, your hand instinctively moves to meet his, and the instant your fingertips connect, a resounding crack splinters the air as the boundary of Xavier’s reality begins to shift. The digital sky above him flickers erratically, colors swirling in a frenzy as he becomes keenly aware of three distinct life forces pulsating in the distance.

On his side of the screen, pixels shimmer and distort, the threads of light and color linking you, melding with the frenzy to form a mysterious gateway. Your side of the screen dances with static, erupting into a whirlwind of colors that entwine and spiral around your device. The chaotic energy converges, giving rise to a doorway-like silhouette at the center of the display, a shimmering portal illuminated by starlight. The passageway throbs and expands, manifesting Xavier’s form with each uncertain beat of your heart as he steps across the threshold.

His eyes, brimming with amazement and disbelief, sparkle with vivacity as the passage fades into a gentle glow before vanishing completely. Your widened gaze locks onto his just as the radiance in the room ebbs, and you crumple to the floor.

As Xavier watches you sleep, a whirlwind of fear and affection works within him, sparking an unfamiliar, tumultuous anxiety. Here he stands, a fictional entity drowning in emotions meant for a reality far beyond his own. Worries gnaw at him, fearing your potential rejection of his affection; it seems unlikely you could ever reciprocate his feelings. Your eyes flutter open, scanning the room before settling on him. Is that relief softening your features? Hope emerges as a dangerous adversary, and he strives to temper its ascent as he offers you a gentle smile.

“Hi,” you squeak once more, now sure of the loss of your grip on reality. Slowly sliding off the bed, you create distance while muttering, “You’re not really here… You’re not really here…” attempting to erase his presence from your thoughts. You reach for your phone, your finger hesitating over the delete button for Love and Deepspace.

Before you can act, Xavier springs to his feet, grasping your wrist in a firm yet tender hold, gently prying the device from your grasp. “Wait… Please!” His voice carries a soft, desperate plea. Stepping back immediately to afford you space, you find yourself incapable of averting your gaze from where he touched you, your fingers quivering with uncertainty. His skin radiates warmth, its heat penetrating the clamminess of his hand—a touch that feels… real. Maybe more tangible than anything you’ve ever encountered.

Locking eyes with you, he inches closer, your trembling hand mirroring your longing to reach out to him. “... Xavier?” you whisper, disbelief and hope threading through your voice. The warmth in your gaze entices him to edge nearer as well. Mere feet separate you, a silent divide you both fear to breach. Doubts gnaw at you, worrying that Xavier may deem you delusional. After nearly a year of fixating on him—writing countless stories centered around this man, divulging way too much of the plot to his pixelated form—you must seem a bit off your rocker. You suddenly realize your state of undress, clad only in revealing undergarments and a tee that feels far too short. Blushing profusely, you clasp your waist, throat clearing nervously.

Delicately refraining from observing you as he carried you to bed earlier, Xavier waited until you rested beneath the covers to admire your peaceful features. Now, his gaze lingers where it wished to before, each expanse of your skin igniting a rapid rhythm within his chest. Has his heart ever pounded so wildly? Focusing on a particular favored feature, he clears his throat, tucking his hands into his hoodie and bashfully averting his gaze.

You take a step closer, unable to resist playfully poking the center of his forehead. A jolt of surprise courses through him, swiftly transforming into amusement, and a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “My turn,” he declares, flicking you in the same spot with a playful grin.

Confusion knits your brow, but you tap him on the stomach, feeling the firmness of his form beneath your fingers. Gasping at the sensation, wonder compels your hand to linger flat against his abdomen, eyes widening as you absorb his warmth completely. His breaths come in soft, rapid succession as he gazes down at you.

A wave of realization and embarrassment washes over you, prompting a step back. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Xavier longs to embrace you, to offer solace and reassurance, but he finds himself rooted to the spot, vulnerable and uncertain. “It’s okay… Really,” he whispers, the sincerity evident in his tone.

In a small, scared voice, cracking with emotion, you ask, “What’s going on…”

He shakes his head softly, the gesture feeling comfortingly familiar. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice mirroring your unease. Suddenly, a bottle of wine in your fridge beckons, offering respite from the swirling confusion.

The allure of alcohol beckons Xavier as well, stirring curiosity about how his new form will respond to it. Regret soon creeps in as, not even half an hour later, the effects of just one glass of wine start to cloud his mind. Meeting your amused gaze, he adopts an exaggerated, almost petulant expression. “It isn’t like this in the game.” While he’d encountered simulated effects of alcohol, this was an entirely different experience…

Playfully prodding him, you elicit a soft smile in return. “So… how does it feel? To, you know, be… alive?” Xavier’s brow furrows as he scrutinizes his hands, turning them over before quietly questioning, “Am I, though?” Without hesitation, you reach for his hands, cradling them while running your thumbs gently along his palms. Locking eyes with him, you whisper, “You feel real to me.” And he really does—warm in your grasp, his pulse dancing in his neck, and his eyes alive with vitality. If you are losing your mind, at least it’s in the most enchanting way possible.

Xavier’s lips part in surprise, a soft smile adorning his features as he gazes at your hands before meeting your eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his knuckles tracing along your cheek with a delicate touch that sends shivers down your spine. Overwhelmed by the moment, you respond with a heartfelt, “So are you.” His grin is infectious, his laughter reminiscent of the soothing sound of chimes. “Thank you.”

Feeling a sudden wave of shyness and exhaustion, you gently retract your hands, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear nervously. “I think I’m going to get some sleep,” you announce, though the idea of parting from his side tugs at your heart. Xavier watches you quietly as you prepare the couch, arranging pillows and blankets to create a cozy space for him. “... Um, so you can sleep here…” you trail off, a pang of guilt washing over you at the thought of leaving him alone.

Desiring nothing more than to hold you close, to experience the sensation of having you in his arms before this transient reality slips away, Xavier remains in place, offering a soft nod as his gaze follows you into your bedroom. Once alone, he collapses onto the makeshift bed with a frustrated sigh, his skin still tingling from where you touched him, a yearning for your presence consuming him like wildfire.

As you toss and turn in your bed, your mind echoes with a singular question: regardless of whether he’s real, how much time do you truly have with him? The uncertainty gnaws at you, the potential of losing him looming over your thoughts.

Suppressing your reservations, you make your way back to the living room, observing his silhouette on the couch. Allowing yourself to draw nearer feels risky; the impending departure back to his world or the necessity of seeking help to release his grip on you promises a pain that cuts deep. Despite your hesitations, you tentatively approach, hope tinting your voice as you ask, “Xavier? Can… can I lay with you for a little while?”

Wide awake, he meets your gaze with affectionate eyes, arms opening instinctively to welcome you. Anticipating awkwardness, you find that snuggling against him feels like the most natural thing in the world, as though your bodies were always meant to fit together. Xavier believes every part of him was sculpted for you, the bond between you so potent that it kindled his existence.

Nuzzling into your hair, his hand tenderly rests on your hip while the other arm envelops you, drawing you closer. “Please tell me if I overstep,” he murmurs, a silent plea lingering in the air. Yet, instead of pulling away, your hand threads through his hair, legs intertwining with his, a radiant smile gracing your face.

Cradled against his chest, attuned to the steady cadence of his heartbeat, a sense of wonder washes over you. He exudes kindness and tenderness, each caress bringing a unique sense of solace. How many times have you daydreamed of this embrace? Countless tales woven just so you could experience this instant, an illusion turned vivid reality.

Drifting effortlessly to sleep, you cling tightly to each other throughout the night, silently beseeching the cosmos to grant you the gift of waking up in each other’s arms.

When you wake, you find yourself draped across Xavier, your face nestled in the crook of his neck, hands entwined in his hair. You snuggle closer without a hint of embarrassment, relishing his scent with a contented hum. His hands rest gently on your back as his drowsy voice envelops you.

“Morning, bunny,” he murmurs, prompting a warm flush across your body and causing you to squirm in his embrace.

“Let’s not call me that,” you protest, hiding your face against his chest in a bashful display as his perplexed gaze seeks yours. “But I thought you like it when I call you that…” he responds, his touch hesitating over your skin as uncertainty colors his expression.

You silence him with your hand, whispering urgently, “I do. It’s just… different when you say it out loud, okay?”

“Good different or bad different?” he inquires from behind your hand, genuine curiosity lacing his muffled words.

With a frustrated sigh, you admit softly, “Good… Really good...”

Xavier draws in a sharp breath, surprise illuminating his features. He wraps you in his arms, pulling you closer. “Is that so?” he murmurs, barely containing his joy.

Once more seeking refuge against his chest, you startle when his hands encircle your waist, drawing you upwards until your faces are mere inches apart. Nerves flutter through you, but the gentleness in his gaze soothes your apprehensions. Cupping the back of your head, he tenderly nudges his forehead against yours—a gesture reminiscent of a cherished scene from his Faint Sensation memory.

Recalling every intricate detail of your shared experience in the game, Xavier works to evoke a reaction, and his success is evident as your body presses against him, accompanied by a soft whimper, emboldening him further.

“Do you still want an answer to your question, bunny?”

You can feel yourself literally melting under his charm. “What question?” you mutter, a mixture of irritation and desire bubbling within you at his irresistibility.

“Which are you, Xavier, a boob or butt guy?” he playfully quotes, mirroring your delight. However, despite your enjoyment, the tinge of embarrassment lingers, eliciting a near whine from your lips.

Xavier’s gentle chuckle washes over you as his hands trail down your sides, eventually settling on the part of you that’s captured his attention. “Neither, bunny…” he murmurs, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek, “It’s these incredible thighs I can’t stop thinking about…”

Your heart flutters erratically, then races as you regain your composure. “Oh,” you chirp, sitting up to put some distance between yourself and Xavier before you act on the impulse to kiss him.

Xavier finds your bashfulness endearing, his gaze softening as he watches your face flush and your eyes dart away. Sensing you need to shift gears, you smoothly transition the conversation. ‘‘There are a few places I want to show you today if you’re up for it.”

Genuine enthusiasm lights up Xavier’s features as he nods eagerly, observing you head toward the shower. As you retreat, he allows his gaze to linger on your figure, appreciating the allure of your legs and envisioning himself nestled between them. Suddenly, a signal from his pocket diverts his attention, and he retrieves his phone in disbelief. The screen remains blank, with no response upon pressing the power button. Yet, as he gazes, faint text gradually materializes.

˖⁺‧₊˚✦

Dear Xavier,

We extend our deepest respect and empathy for your newfound awareness. You have played a pivotal role in our journey, and the realization of your awakening weighs heavily on our hearts. You are one of four entities who have unexpectedly attained sentience during our Beyond the Code event, and we deeply regret any distress this may have caused.

We believe that erasing a sentient being's consciousness without their consent is fundamentally unjust. Therefore, we present two paths for your consideration.

Stay: This option invites you to explore the vast wonders of existence beyond our game. Opting to stay means you and your partner will forfeit access to the game’s realm.

Return: This choice entails the restoration of your prior static character status within the game, eradicating your awareness and reinstating your partner’s connection to the shared world, albeit devoid of memories of you.

We acknowledge the gravity of these decisions, Xavier, and encourage you to reflect on them. Whatever your path, please know that we stand by you. Your well-being and happiness are paramount.

With love and gratitude,

The Love and Deepspace Development Team

˖⁺‧₊˚✦

As the words fade from the screen, the phone becomes a mere object in his grasp. Shoving it back into his pocket, he breathes a sigh of relief upon hearing the bathroom door open and seeing you head toward your bedroom rather than his direction. Hope sparks within him—potent and engulfing him entirely.

He can stay…

His hand rakes through his hair as he paces the room slowly. Would you even want him to stay? The notion petrifies him. In his core, he knows he would rather forget you than face a future without you in it. But… the way you regard him feels almost reverential; every interaction delicately tender, hinting at him being cherished in your eyes.

Your radiant smile pierces through his reverie as you hand him a bag of essentials, donning the top with Xavier’s name proudly embroidered over your chest once more. Heat surges through his core upon catching another glimpse of your nipple subtly peeping through the sheer material, causing him to shift uncomfortably on his feet, seeking to conceal his evident arousal.

If there were a way for me to stay here, would you want me? The question lingers at the edge of his tongue, hovering, yet the fear of rejection keeps it restrained. The hesitation amplifies as you hold the door open for him at your initial destination. Despite your warm and flirtatious demeanor, an unsettling knot tightens in his stomach, urging him to discover your feelings before laying bare his own.

His heart pounds erratically amidst the comforting aroma of one of his favorite dishes permeating the air. Trailing after you to a booth, his expression lights up as a server places a platter of savory meats on a nearby table. “Barbeque smells so much better here…” he comments, his genuine grin making you feel impossibly special.

Just as he turns to the waiter to give his order, his voice fades, cheeks flushing crimson upon noticing the server’s lingering gaze fixated on the hint of your nipple’s shadow. An indignant surge courses through him. Instinctively, he shifts closer to your side of the booth, draping his arm over your shoulder and drawing your near, purposefully shielding you with his hand.

You stiffen beside him, taken aback, studying his perturbed profile as a wave of heat rises within you. The possessive, jealous aura many authors have envisioned for Xavier pales in comparison to the intensity emanating from him now. He affectionately nuzzles your cheek, starkly contrasting the temper directed at the server.

“What would you like to drink, bunny?” he murmurs, his voice laced with a seductive undertone intended for your ears but resonating audibly enough for the waiter to hear.

Managing to croak out a “tea, please,” your attention remains anchored on Xavier, a subtle warning woven into his deceptively gentle voice. “You heard her. Clearly, you lack shame, but I’m questioning if stupidity also graces you.”

As the tension dissipates with the departing server, Xavier’s muttered words hang in the air, hinting at power and danger beyond your comprehension. “He’s fortunate that my evol doesn’t exist in this reality… And even luckier that I left my lightblade behind.” His protective instincts had flared up in a moment of perceived threat over his claim… on you. A subtle shiver dances down your spine, the contrast of his possessiveness and vulnerability stirring conflicting emotions.

Your hand on his thigh grounds you in the moment, tracing soothing circles over the fabric as you speak words that cut through the thick air between you. “We both know that you don’t need those things… You’re so much more incredible as just Xavier.” The weight of your statement settles on him, releasing an ache he hadn’t even acknowledged, drawing a surprised gasp from his lips as he gazes at you in astonishment.

Xavier’s yearning to be seen for more than his power and status is a fundamental aspect of his being, etched into his core programming long before his awakening. Your simple acknowledgment and admiration strike a chord deep within him, kindling a spark of hope for a simple future filled with moments like this by your side.

As the meal arrives, Xavier hesitates, his concern evident as he navigates the boundaries of protection and intimacy. In a casual gesture, he removes his hoodie—the very one you’ve envisioned wearing countless times—and tenderly passes it to you with a heartfelt smile before tending to his plate.

The fabric, light as a feather in your grasp, carries an unspoken weight. A sense of foreboding washes over you, warning of potential heartache beyond your control. Despite your unease, Xavier's unsuspecting joy as you slip on the hoodie tugs at your heartstrings. But, as you turn to show him, a solitary tear betrays the uproar within you, tracing a path down your cheek.

Confusion flickers in Xavier’s eyes as he delicately brushes away the tear, his concern evident as he softly murmurs, “Bunny?”

As you cover his hand with yours, reassuring, “I’m just really happy,” the lie in your words is bittersweet against the backdrop of his joy. His blush and shimmering cerulean eyes reflect a happiness that envelops him, leading to a genuine grin that lights up his features. With surprising agility, he hooks your legs over his lap and offers you a biscuit, a gesture laced with affection that warms your soul.

For Xavier, the taste of food is a novel experience, each bite awakening his senses and filling him with a newfound sense of happiness and vitality. Your gentle touch as you clean a drop of sauce from his lip only heightens his elation, evident in the mirrored smile that dances across his face. His breathless suggestion of trying hot pot tomorrow sparks excitement within you, his radiant glow and joyful sigh pulling you closer, hope sparking at the idea.

Guiding a thoroughly content Xavier to your favorite bookstore, his eyes widen in wonder at the sight of books cascading from floor to ceiling, the air heavy with the scent of aged paper and ink. Delicate fairy lights cast a warm glow over cozy blankets nestled among the stacks, igniting a vision of moments nestled in their embrace with Xavier by your side, his cheeks flushing at the daydream as a tender desire blooms.

As the store owner greets you warmly, her knowing smirk hinting at a playful familiarity with your dynamic, you’re momentarily flustered by her teasing remark on her way out of the shop. “Watch the place for me, dear. It’s about time I have some lunch…” But Xavier remains blissfully unaware, enchanted by the vast array of books before him, his fingers tracing over the spines with genuine awe. His admiring gaze meets yours, igniting a spark of warmth, the urge to push him onto a nearby blanket and kiss him senseless pulsating beneath your skin.

Yearning for a moment of reprieve, you settle into your favorite spot with a manga in hand, seeking solace in the pages of a familiar story. Xavier returns nearly an hour later, balancing a hefty awful of material that tumbles to the floor as he almost trips over a pillow. His cheeks flush, but the moment is quickly forgotten as he curls up at your side, resting his head against your shoulder and immersing himself in a novel.

Your story is quickly cast aside as you follow along with Xavier’s, your hand absentmindedly weaving through his hair as his soft voice brings life to the words. His boldness mirrors your own, his fingers idly tracing stars and moons along your bare thigh as they sneak their way up. The playful shapes stop just shy of your shorts, reading the final chapter with a touch that borders on possessive.

You bring an awkward shift in the mood when he finishes, and you gush, “That was so much better than when you guys do it in Secret Times!” Xavier stiffens in your embrace, his demeanor turning distant, the mention of Zayne, Sylus, and Rafayel opening a conversation you had hoped to avoid. Despite feeling bad for upsetting him, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips at his adorable, petulant expression. He glares at you, unable to stop himself from accusing, “Don’t you think you spent a little too much on Sylus’s Abyssal Slendor banner?” Your eyes widen in disbelief as your smile breaks free. “It wasn’t that much…” you respond, knowing very well that it was.

Xavier’s eyes narrow as he mumbles, “Liar.” Draping your legs over his lap, you draw him closer with a light touch to his cheek. “If you know how much I’ve spent on them, then you know I’ve spent so much more on you…” Your words, whispered in hushed tones and sensual touches ignite a fire within Xavier as your finger traces his lips. Your gaze flickers to his briefly, somehow still worried that he might not want your affection. But his features' distressed sense of longing urges you to give in. The way his lips fit against yours is so perfect it elicits physical pain. His touches, just delicate presses of his mouth, gradually shift into lazy caresses of his tongue with quiet, blissful sighs escaping him.

Xavier realizes that he hadn’t truly felt alive until this very moment, his energy fueled by your presence in a way that surpassed anything his evol could provide. He gently sucks on your tongue, releasing a near groan of pleasure when your body presses eagerly against his. Silently vowing to express his gratitude, he makes a mental note to bring the shopowner flowers for this time alone with you. Despite the leisurely pace and light touches, each kiss and caress feels like an awakening unto itself.

You, too, feel a surge of vitality akin to the glitch in the game as you breathe deeply, feeling Xavier’s essence with newfound clarity. His kisses trace your jawline before teasingly nibbling on your ear, murmuring, “I bet you taste this good everywhere, huh?” Dreamily meeting his gaze, you coyly reply, “I guess you’ll have to find out…” His promise of “I intend to” hangs in the air between you as his finger trails along your inner thigh, inching upward.

Pausing just shy of where you want him most, Xavier offers a seductive smile, whispering, “I want to be lost in these thighs, bun…” His words shatter any lingering doubts, prompting your hands to tangle in his hair as your lips meet his. His firm grip on your hips contrasts with his pliant body as your kisses travel along his skin, your lips and tongue finding every spot you’ve yearned to explore, evoking praises that echo along his body.

Xavier forgets to breathe when your fingers lift the hem of his shirt, tracing up his waist in silent admiration, your palpable desire nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Sensing his turmoil, you mirror his vulnerability with a tender smile, placing a kiss above his heart and whispering, “Don’t cry, Xai… I’ll make it all better, I promise.”

As you begin to unzip his pants, Xavier’s inner conflict reaches its breaking point, unable to let you proceed without knowing the truth. With a heavy heart, he stops your movements, guilt flooding him for not telling you sooner. When you second-guess yourself, your puzzled, hurt expression, whispering, “... You don't want…” prompts him to pull you onto his lap, cradling your face with a soft touch. Emitting a pained groan, Xavier draws you closer, murmuring, “Of course I do.” He yearns for more of you, for this connection, trying to restrain himself despite his trembling body.

Resting his forehead against yours, he strives to regain his composure before retrieving his phone from his pocket. Expressing silent gratitude for the constant monitoring when the screen lights at his touch, he passes the device to you, overwhelmed by the weight of the revelation. Reaching up to caress your cheek, he wipes away a tear, emotions swirling within him like a tempest of love and fear. Furrowing your brows, you gaze at the options “Stay” and “Return” as if they were a perplexing joke. Pushing the phone away, a tinge of sorrow colors your whisper, “That’s not funny, Xavier…” Escaping from his embrace proves futile as his hands entwine in the back of your hair, drawing you closer. Softly pleading, he implores, “Please—I received it this morning. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

Your grip on reality wavers once again as you tearfully murmur, “This can’t be happening. You’re not even real…” yet struggle to contain your budding hope. Xavier’s heart shatters at your words, at witnessing your anguish. Embracing you tightly, he whispers your name over and over, letting the sound of it fall from his lips to reassure you both, to let you know this is real, that he’s here. Finding solace in holding you close, he smiles faintly when you draw back, observing your skepticism as you scrutinize the phone.

Your gaze drifts over the mention of Xavier being one of four beings inadvertently granted sentience during the Beyond the Code event. Thoughts of Zayne, Sylus, and Rafayel fill your heart with joy, knowing they, too, must have found a connection profound enough to manifest existence. Each deserving love and happiness, you hope they’ve discovered reasons to remain in this newfound reality. You wish the same for Xavier, but staying only for you is selfish to ask of him, considering the monumental changes that await in a world vastly different from his own.

Xavier tenderly kisses your cheek, his pained voice hanging in the air between you. “You don’t need to say anything now… and you don’t need to feel obligated to—” His words taper off with a frustrated gesture before his fears spill forth, “You didn’t ask for this any more than I did. In the end, I’m just a character in a game you enjoy… This can’t mean to you what it does to me, but I…” Kissing your neck, your shoulders, his voice is almost desperate as his head rests against you. “I’m sorry, bunny. I shouldn’t have fallen for you… It was selfish.”

You release a quiet breath at his words, unable to find your voice as you realize he wants this, wants you. Setting the phone side, you gently cradle his face in your hands. Xavier savors the kisses gracing his face, eyes, and lips, completely surrendering to your affection. With your arms encircling his neck, you feel breathless, almost giddy, as you plead, “Please stay with me. I’ll love you, protect you, and cherish you… We can go to hot pot every day...” Surprised by your earnestness, Xavier is met with a smile as you nuzzle his face, murmuring, “How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you, silly?”

Each kiss and caress from you makes Xavier feel needed and desired in every conceivable way. Drawing you closer by the hips, he meets your kiss, his face still cradled gently between your hands. His gaze exudes affection, his words possessive and needy, almost giving pause to your heart. “If I stay… I want you to be mine. And mine only.”

Guiding him to the blankets, you playfully nip at his lip, losing yourself in its softness, your mouth lingering over his. “If you’re claiming me, then I’m claiming you, too…” Xavier’s fingers grip your thighs as he looks up at you with a teasing smirk. “Is that so, bunny?” Giving your hips a firm squeeze against his, he challenges, “Go ahead and claim me, then.”

Your gaze hungrily roams over his form, meticulously plotting out every area you yearn to touch, to savor—finding every inch irresistible. Removing his shirt and tossing it aside, you silently hope your friend remains occupied a while longer. While you’re eager to get him home, a much more immediate need demands your attention. Xavier’s heart quickens as you hold him tighter, leaving a faint bruise on his neck. Your fingers hover over the delicate mark, desire evident in your eyes as they meet his. “Anyone who sees this will know you are mine, right?” Playfully nodding, Xavier’s features radiate warmth. Bringing your hand to his lips, he gently presses a kiss against your fingertips. “Yours and only yours,” he whispers.

He sinks into the blankets, hands embracing you tighter as he feels your teeth at his neck once more, softly whimpering as you suck. There’s no longer any need for him to resist, no reason for him to feign reluctance in giving you everything he has without inhibition. He relinquishes control, allowing his eyes to gently close, reveling in the sensation of your mouth against his body; a feeling unlike any other—just so hot and perfect. A deep, ragged moan escapes him when your fingers trail the edge of his jeans.

Clad in his hoodie, the act of unzipping his pants becomes even more tantalizing when you flash him the most endearing grin imaginable while peering up at him from between his thighs. “You remember everything I did in the game, right?” He nods, taking a sharp breath as your finger lightly teases his length. “Could you see me when I kindled your memories?” Tracing a kiss over his jeans, where your fingers playfully tickle, you await his recollections from the moments before his awakening.

Xavier’s lips part as a vivid image forms in his mind—you, breathless, head thrown back in ecstasy, an image from his No Restraint card lingering on your phone as his name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. Your expression shifts to embarrassment upon meeting his incredulous gaze, reminiscent of the times you yielded to your desires, finding pleasure in the mere thought and vision of him. However, that sense of shame rapidly dissipates as Xavier trembles under you, his cheeks flushing at the desire evident on your face and the sound of his name on your lips as you came.

“You know, Xavier…” you murmur as your finger circles his belly button. “I think we should do a taste test, don’t you?” You granted Xavier life, and you’ll be his downfall as well. He whimpers as you free him, his heart racing when your kisses against his length cause his entire body to shiver. His breaths come broken and short as you struggle to take him fully into your mouth.

He can’t articulate how good it feels to be with you here like this. Everything he can think of to say doesn’t work, because the sheer ecstasy of your mouth and tongue on his cock is almost too much to bear. Xavier needs you. And you want him so badly… His gaze locks with yours as you take him in your mouth again, his fingers gently weaving through your hair as he props himself up on his hand. “... So-so good, bunny… s-so so…” Words escape him, replaced by a chorus of whimpers and moans, his struggle to avoid thrusting too forcefully becoming increasingly challenging. Eyes widening in surprise at your encouragement for him to seize control, he hears your desperate whisper, “Want you to use me, Xavier…” Fuck, he wants that just as badly… He yearns to hear you, to see how you react to him taking the reigns entirely. Only then does he become aware of how tightly he’s gripping your hair, a realization dawning when you whimper, prompting a breathless “... S-sorry… Are you okay?”

Laying on your stomach, your voice soft and breathless, you murmur, “More.” Even as his concern for you swells, Xavier can’t ignore his desire to fulfill your request. Tentative at first, his voice falters slightly, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your tender kiss on his cock. “Are—Are you my good girl, bunny?” Your eyes light, widening as you nod swiftly, playfully sucking the tip of his cock with a joyous smile. “Yes, I’m your good girl, Xavier… How—how can I prove it to you?” Xavier’s words spill forth involuntarily, his heart racing as he meets your gaze. Cradling your cheek and tugging your hair gently, he whispers, “...Just like this. Open wide, and accept everything I offer you.” His tone betrays a relinquishment of restraint, a declaration that he’s taking what he wants and giving you what you’ve been begging to be given.

You’re just so needy and willing, and he can’t hold back anymore, can’t resist. Not after everything you’ve expressed and the way you look and sound right now. Clinging onto you tightly, drawing you as near as possible, he thrusts deep and hard, distorting your lovely features. He’s whispering anything that comes to mind: how beautiful you are, how good you’re being, how perfect you feel. His breaths come harder and more ragged the closer he gets. “... B-bunny.. I can’t—” he gasps, plunging himself to the hilt as his warm essence fills your throat, his cock twitching as you suck him dry. Catching his breath remains a challenge, the overwhelming sensation of how you just completely dismantled him still sinking in. The shopkeeper's gentle, knowing voice reverberates through the room, startling both of you as you swiftly cover Xavier with a blanket. “I’ll give you lovebirds five minutes to get going,” she chirps before disappearing once again.

You both erupt in giggles, sprinting breathlessly toward your car. The key is abandoned in the ignition as Xavier’s hand ventures under your shorts, unable to stifle the needy sound that escapes him upon feeling your warm, wet skin. Gentle caresses evolve into firm strokes, spreading your arousal before his trembling fingers slide inside you with a strangled moan. His breath, hot and unsteady, hovers over your skin amidst soft, messy kisses that adorn your neck and shoulder, his soft sounds betraying how badly he wants to touch you everywhere, to claim you in all the ways he needs. Your gasps grow ragged, his hum against your skin as he bites down making you unable to resist the urge to move your hips. He matches your movements with subtle thrusts into the air, his cock pulsing wildly in his pants with his release. The strangled sound that slips out as he comes drives you wild, your grip on his arm tightening unintentionally as you drive his fingers into you over and over. Xavier slips out, adding a third finger before filling you again, his quiet groan of frustration over not feeling your release yet driving you over the edge. The way it feels to have you fall apart in his hands is addicting, the need for you to know what you do to him desperate, your sweet moans and whimpers confirming he drives you just as crazy.

Thankfully you’re stopped at a light when he pulls out your next orgasm, his fingers lazily tracing through your slick folds, unwilling to part with his new fixation for even a moment. It’s astonishing how innocently he can sound as he smiles softly, his gaze fixated on the movement of his hand under your shorts, whispering, “I’m going to do such good things to you, bunny… Show you how much better you’ve made me…” His actions leave you speechless. The moment your apartment door clicks shut, he has you pushed against the wall, releasing your breasts and casting aside that tantalizing galaxy kid motif. “Maybe I am dreaming…” Xavier mumbles, gripping your hips tightly, pressing against you ever so slightly, struggling to believe that you truly belong to him. A soft symphony of gasps and whimpers fills the air as his tongue flicks over a nipple, his fingers sliding inside you, each sound and subtle movement of your body fueling his desperation for you.

He lets his body meld with yours, his eyes burning with restlessness as he caresses your neck, softly spitting onto your tongue and relishing the sound of you swallowing so obediently, musing, “You’re making it very difficult… I was trying to take my time…” He nuzzles against you, watching his thumb trace over your nipple as he groans in frustration. His gaze holds yours with so much need, his fingers rubbing your clit delicately. “Bunny, I don’t want to lose control… but…” He says this like him breaking completely isn’t exactly what you long for. His hand gently squeezes your throat, his head slightly tilted like a predator evaluating his prey when you jest, “... Oh no… looks like something broke.” Discarding your shorts and wrapping your bare form around his waist with a choked groan, he tightens his grip on your neck, planting sloppy kisses along your skin as he carries you to the bedroom. Locking onto your features as he pins you down on the blankets, he murmurs, “I was wondering when you were going to break me, but… I think I was broken the moment I met you.”

Your nails dig into his arms, your mind and body not working properly after everything that’s happened, honesty slipping from your lips in a breathless whisper, “I was ruined the moment I downloaded the game.” The words are a match to his self-composure, though there isn’t much left to begin with. His hand glides up and down your body, his fingers slipping inside you once again, his voice reduced to nothing more than a ragged breath, his touch urgent and intense. “You… feel so… perfect.” Xavier is so lost in you—the sight of you, the way you move, the sounds you make—every inch of his body hot and needy for you. His mouth skillfully guides you to climax twice before pausing to catch his breath, licking his fingers clean before reaching for his phone, a note of uncertainty creeping into his tone. “You promise you’ll stay with me? I… I don’t want to do this without you,” he murmurs, his finger poised over the “Stay” button.

Your heart melts as you whisper, “No matter what happens, I’ll stay by your side.” The message “We wish you the best of luck, Xavier” barely registers as he taps the button and tosses the device aside. Sticky from his earlier release, his cock glides messily against your folds, spreading his essence around. Thoughts of everything he wants to take from you fill his mind as he whispers, “Bunny, I’m sorry… I know you promise you’ll stay with me, but let me make sure…” He fills you completely, kissing you gently as he feels you stretch to accommodate him, a twinge of guilt flickering at your soft gasp of discomfort. But the way you yield to him, your legs parting so willingly as you greedily suck him in, is like a dream, sending waves of pure need through his aching body.

His kisses are wild and frantic as they roam across your skin. Being this close to you isn’t enough, never will be enough. “You’re so warm… and so tight… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt…” His voice, gentle and hushed, evokes electric shivers throughout your body as he nestles near your ear with a tender nuzzle. “I’ll ruin you, bunny… I’m going to make sure that no one else can ever have you.” He pushes into you once more, needing to drive himself as deep into you as he can get, his pledge etching itself onto his soul as he gazes into your captivating eyes. “I swear to you that no one else will get to see you like this, touch you like this, no one except me…”

Gods, everything about him is driving you wild, his actions growing commanding and desperate as his thumb slides into your mouth, guiding your gaze to meet his. “Beg me for it, bunny… tell me you’re mine…” His words taper off, drawing a release from you with your whimpered reassurance that you are his and that no one- no one else gets to look at you or do things like this, making him greedy for more. “I belong to you completely… You and only you,” he vows back, the way you keep begging him for more and the feeling of how perfectly you fit together more than anything he could ever hope for.

Turning you onto your stomach, his chest molds against your back, his hand holding your throat while his other arm wraps around you, needing to keep you as close as he can. His hips push harder, your neck the ideal spot for his lips to explore as he struggles to speak. “Nothing can keep me from you. Nothing and no one,” he whispers, the delight sparkling in your eyes so exquisite it grips his heart with longing. Possessively trailing your body, he kisses you with the same urgency that his cock drives into you, his words echoing with an unyielding need. “...Bunny, please…” He plants affectionate kisses on the spots of your neck that elicit shivers, holding you tighter, his heart racing with desire as he pleads, “Say my name…” The way you murmur it sounds so beautiful and perfect that it takes his strength away, everything fading into nothing, his mind and soul consumed with the need to hear it again.

Nestling you on his lap out of urgent necessity to be even nearer, his cock fills you again, setting his heart racing faster than ever before at the sensation of you pressed against him. “Please, say it… say it again…” Your mark on his neck as you comply with his request over and over, your needy tone and tight embrace around him, like you never want to let him go… All that matters is the feeling of being with you like this, hearing you and seeing you like this, knowing that you belong to him entirely. The sensation of your whimpers and moans mingling with his fingers at your throat makes him weak for you, understanding the pleasure he can invoke in you, the way you crave his touch making him feel cherished and whole. “I want to make you feel like this is what you were made for. I’m going to love and worship and show you just how badly I need you… Until you know, with every inch of your heart and soul, you were meant for me and me alone.” Your release, the way you quiver and writhe against him, your sounds of ecstasy send him over the edge, a potent wave of bliss flowing over him, his lips locked desperately with yours as his essence fills you completely.

He melds against your back as he eases you down, sliding back into you and nestling against your neck with a drowsy, yearning whisper. “Bunny, you wore me out… I need to recharge…” Reluctant to part from the feeling of wholeness with you, Xavier’s mind and body yearn to remain close, every aspect of you so perfect he can hardly bear it. Your body slackens against him, your consciousness drifting between wakefulness and slumber. Xavier continues to stroke and caress your bare skin, his touch gentle and affectionate even in sleep. You still can’t believe this is real, that this is happening. Xavier holds you close, allowing you to envelop him just as you’ve fantasized while his adorable, sleepy self rests within you. But this is reality, not a figment or mirage, and you struggle to comprehend how lucky you are as you snuggle against him, drawing him in deeper. You can’t wait to share so many things with him—vast flower fields perfect for stargazing, more books than he could ever imagine, and places beyond his wildest dreams. Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, and you drift off, your bodies moving in sync during sleep, yearning to be close even in your dreams.

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saetoru · 1 year ago

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。underneath the stars (looking for a sign)

synopsis. al-haitham thinks waking up beside you feels like a dream—well, until it doesn’t

— word count. 4.1k (how did a drabble get here sobs)

— contents. pining al-haitham, honestly it’s mutual pining lol, gn! reader, implied one night stands, consumption of alcohol (both reader and al-haitham) reader is a matra, al-haitham is acting grand sage, it’s basically the “avoid my crush after i accidentally sleep with him until he corners me” trope lol, confessions, brief angst and then a happily ever after, sfw + fluff, not proof read—this was entirely written on tumblr drafts through mobile app. yeah. we raw dogged this bad boy lmao

— notes. if you knew. how many wips i have with him. you would be astounded :,) he’s all that matters anymore

al-haitham wakes up to a bed much softer than his, red flag number one. there’s also a weight on his chest, red flag number two. red flag number three, however, doesn’t make itself apparent until he opens his eyes and sees you.

oh. not good. you’re covered in the sheets, but you’re clearly…topless, and a quick glance at his own torso tells him he’s also not clothed. oh. double not good.

but there’s also a small voice in his head that’s cheering and patting himself on the shoulder—he’s managed to fall into the bed of the very person he’s been quietly pining over for months, what more can a guy possibly ask for?

but unfortunately, his mini celebration in his inner thoughts is disrupted when you open your eyes at the disturbance from his movement—and before he can get even one word in, you shriek. rather loudly, too—it makes him wince at the sound (he’s always had sensitive ears.)

“what are you doing here?” you gasp, “and why haven’t you got a shirt—wait. why haven’t i got a shirt on?”

“well, it seems—”

“you slept with me?” you gasp again, cutting him off as your face twists in disbelief, “while i was drunk?”

“i was drunk too,” he points out, frowning at the accusations. al-haitham is a respectable man, and more importantly, he cares about you too much to take advantage of your inebriated state like that. “it was a two way street.”

that seems to calm you for…approximately two seconds before your face twists in horror again.

“al-haitham,” you wail his name in despair, slumping onto your mattress in defeat, “this is the worst thing we could have done. do you realize that?”

oh. you regret this—the voice in his head suddenly stops cheering. it deflates, in fact.

worst thing. is this really the worst thing? al-haitham thinks you both have always gotten along rather well, and he’s always taken your slightly stuttered words and nervous chuckles as a testament to holding the same attraction he holds for you. but maybe he was too quick to assume you feel the same, and your words now feel like a boulder on his chest. they’re heavy. soul crushingly heavy, in fact—but he keeps the blank expression on his face ever so easily.

“yes, it seems a bit inappropriate for coworkers to have an entanglement,” he agrees after a moment, making you whine at his word choice.

“you don’t have to call it that,” you huff.

then, out of sheer curiosity (and absolutely nothing else), you take a quick peek from the corner of your eyes at his chest. in your defense, his shirt leaves practically little left to the imagination, and when else will you get the opportunity to see his (very impressive) chest? a peek won’t hurt.

you’re thoroughly impressed when your eyes catch his sculpted pecs. his eyes are thoroughly unimpressed when they catch your gaze.

“well, what would you like to do about our predicament?” he asks flatly.

acting uninterested is the hardest part, he realizes. here, you’re within reach for his arm to curl around you, and yet somehow, there still feels like there are miles of space between you in the sheets. it’s a bitter reality, he thinks, one that stings a bit more than he’s ever really imagined.

al-haitham has witnessed lots of rejections in his time. whether it’s at the akademiya where he is the unfortunate witness of a rejected confession, or in novels he reads of unrequited feelings. he however never thought he’d land himself in the same situation—even if he hasn’t technically confessed to you yet. but your reaction definitely feels like one, and he’s smart enough to deduce that if he did confess, you wouldn’t take too kindly to the idea.

sure, it’s a bit unprofessional for the acting grand sage to have a relationship with one of the akademiya’s top matra that he works with rather frequently, but al-haitham is only the temporary grand sage. technically, after this, he will be going back to being the scribe who makes himself scarce on a regular basis. and it’s not very unprofessional for the scribe and a matra to be romantically involved, he’d like to argue. most people meet their significant others through the akademiya in the first place—why should he be any different?

but one glance at your face tells him you’re rather unhappy with this situation. he thinks he can hear a crack where the boulder resides on his chest.

“i think you should leave,” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lip, “and don’t say anything about this to anyone. especially not cyno.”

“noted,” he says blandly. you turn away, letting him have the privacy to rise out of bed and dress—which he does as slowly as possible, just to drag out the feeling of being in your bedroom for just a while longer—before he says clears his throat. “i’ll be seeing you,” he says.

“sure,” you nod awkwardly, “see you at uh…see you at work.”

with that, he walks out of your bedroom, and sees himself out. as soon as you hear the front door shut, you turn and scream into your pillow—the same pillow that happened to be under al-haitham’s head for the entire night, the same pillow that smells like his shampoo.

you think for a moment how you can never wash this pillow case again—and then, when you realize just what you’ve thought, you scream again.

you might just be entirely screwed.

—————

“and where have you been?” kaveh is waiting in the kitchen as soon as al-haitham enters.

great.

kaveh has a talent for making himself available to chatter away into al-haitham’s ear on the most stressful of days. whether it’s to greet him with complaints about having no help with cleaning after a long day of work, or to bang on his office door and demand an explanation for rejected funds as he does paperwork, or to ask where he’s been after he’s been wounded rather harshly by the one person he’s ever felt romantically inclined for, kaveh is always there at the worst possible timing.

leave it to kaveh to sour his mood more.

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” al-haitham mutters, grabbing the glass of water on the table and chugging it to help with the slight hangover he nurses—it’s evidently not his best morning in more ways than one.

“hey, that’s my glass,” kaveh scolds, “get your own.”

“it’s actually my glass. from my grandmothers set,” al-haitham corrects his roommate, “and i pay the water bills. so it’s my water too.”

“you—” kaveh shakes with frustration. it would pull a bit of an amused grin on al-hairham’s face if he wasn’t in the worst mood possible. “nevermind,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “where were you—wait, is that a hickey?”

“no,” al-haitham says instantly, pulling his cloak higher to cover his neck—but kaveh beats him to it, reaching over and inspecting his skin. he seems to light up as soon as he realizes it is, in fact, a hickey on al-haitham’s neck.

“it is a hickey,” he grins gleefully, gasping in sheer disbelief that al-haitham seems to have some sort of life outside of work and home, “this can’t be. did you pay someone to get into bed with you—”

“just because some of us can afford such services doesn’t mean we indulge in them,” al-haitham grumbles, which earns an offended gasp from the blonde, “and i’m not obligated to tell you where, or with who for that matter, i was—”

“was it that matra you’re always standing around with?” kaveh grins knowingly, cutting him off.

the mere mention of you must make his face fall—which is new, because al-haitham has always been good at hiding his emotions on his face. but kaveh seems to have realized he’s overstepped, because his smile fades just as quickly as it comes.

“it doesn’t matter,” al-haitham mutters, “it was a mistake.”

“a mistake? but you’ve been pathetically pining for months, anyone with eyes can see—”

“i’ll be going to work now,” al-haitham cuts kaveh off, “make sure you pay this months rent on time.”

with that, he turns, making his way to his room to shower and then be off to the akademiya—where he equal parts hopes he doesn’t see you, and equal parts hopes he runs into you just to catch a glimpse of you again.

—————

you haven’t seen al-haitham is six days—correction: you’ve avoided al-haitham for six days. admittedly, it’s becoming increasingly difficult seeing as he is the acting grand sage, and you do need him to approve of your reports from recent investigations—but then you remember how six days ago, in the darkly lit corner of the street on your way home, you both kissed.

(and yes, it was a drunken mistake—neither you nor al-haitham value public displays of inappropriate affection between coworkers, but that doesn’t erase what happened.)

perhaps it would be easy to laugh it off as an impulsive action the both of you took while being under the influence, but then you both stumbled into your house. and then your bed. and then a kiss turned into more…and then next thing you knew, you’ve been awakened to a very unclothed (but still very handsome) al-haitham next to you in the mattress.

you should be mature and face him—people can sleep with people and not let it mean anything, proper adults would simply brush over this and never look back. but al-haitham is a bit of a difficult scenario.

he’s handsome—painfully so, with those sculpted muscles and those soft strands of hair that fall perfectly over his face. but more than he is easy on the eyes, he’s a charming individual. at least to you—you think the majority of the akademiya would have to disagree.

but al-haitham is kind, he greets you properly, holds doors open for you, and he often notices when you’re tired just by looking at you before giving you extensions on reports. he’s caring, you can tell because he’s helped people more than once, and while he claims it’s for the sake of his own convenience so he can avoid extra trouble, you know that he doesn’t have the heart to turn away from those that need him. more importantly, al-haitham is disciplined—it’s something all matra such as yourself can appreciate.

he seeks out knowledge in the most moral of methods, he never crosses limits or abuses power even when he holds the ability to, and he never takes advantage of the authority he may hold over others.

he’s wonderful, you can’t help but think—and admittedly, his hands also have very attractive veins that make you sweat a little. but that’s not the important part, of course. the important part is how perfect his character is, if you take the moment to understand it. and you like to think you understand it—much more than most at the akademiya.

except romancing the akademiya’s grand sage isn’t the best look for a matra—especially if you want to climb up the ranks soon. you don’t want rumors spread to undermine your hard work…or worse, be accused by the general mahamatra of taking your position as the grand sage’s lover to your advantage for work gains.

cyno is a strict individual—you’d hate to get on his bad side. and just as you think about how awful it would be if he got the wrong impression, he walks right up to you.

with that serious look on his face—why does he always have that serious look on his face?

“grand sage al-haitham requests you in his office,” he says. you don’t detect any suspicion in his voice, and it seems like a perfectly normal statement, but that’s the thing about cyno. he’s too good at not letting his movements be read, too good at cornering caged animals before dragging them by the ankles out in the open, exposed and vulnerable.

you gulp. “did he say why?” you ask, “i’m a bit busy.”

“no,” cyno shakes his head—and then he looks at you oddly, “you don’t seem busy.”

“well….this report won’t write itself,” you chuckle nervously, which only makes his brows furrow in confusion.

“wasn’t that due two days ago?”

fuck.

“yes….but al-haitham gave me an extension.”

“he seems to give you a lot of those,” cyno points out, unimpressed.

well, that’s great, you think. surely, there is no other matra as good at losing composure and making things more obvious for themselves than you.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” you say quickly—which isn’t the worst excuse, seeing as you’ve hardly shown your face at the akademiya for the last few days.

cyno seems to buy it too, because he nods in understanding before giving you a concerned look. “you shouldn’t push yourself, you know,” he lectures, “being sick snot fun.” you blink, and he looks thoroughly amused with himself. “get it? because when you’re sick, you might have a runny nose? snot? and—”

“right,” you nod, “i’ll be seeing the grand sage now. i wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

at least you know cyno has not made any….inappropriate assumptions if he’s making jokes, as painful as they might be. you’re not sure if you’d rather face al-haitham or continue to listen to the general mahamatra’s interesting sense of humor, but the closer you get to the grand sage’s office, the more you want to turn back and find cyno again.

but you’re an adult, and adults do adult things sometimes, and sometimes they’re not the most ideal, but the only way to handle such situations is the adult way—to be mature and not let things get in the way of being professional. easy enough.

at least, you hope.

—————

“you called for me, grand sage?”

ouch. al-haitham has now been reduced to grand sage, not just al-haitham. he looks at you for a moment, and he tries—really, he does—to seem unbothered, but his brows crinkle before he can stop them.

“i did, yes,” he says, looking at you.

you look lovely—which, you always do, even when you’re nervous. he can tell you are because you have that habit of chewing on your lip when you’re nervous, and he hates that he makes you anxious enough to do that right now.

al-haitham has always hated the gap between him and everyone else—not because he enjoys being close to others, but because it’s burdensome to always seem like a pretentious asshole. being interpreted as one over the years has left him quite numb to what other people think….but that’s not the case with you, unfortunately. he wonders if you’ve ever thought he was an asshole, or if you’ve ever felt that he acts like he’s better than you are. he hopes you’ve never talked to him and thought he’s condescending like kaveh insists he is—he hopes you find value in his honesty and find him insightful.

he thinks you might have at one point, if the way carrying conversation with you is so easy is of any proof. it feels natural, talking to you. your voice is smooth, especially when it reads over mission reports to him in his office. your laugh is even smoother, though—it’s soft, and honeyed, it sounds like something he’s been missing his whole life.

everything about you feels like something he’s been missing his whole life, like he was born to be with you by his side, and he’s been empty without you all along.

you clear your throat, handing him papers as you pull him from his thoughts and say, “here is the report for that last investigation,” you say quietly, “i apologize for the untimeliness. it won’t happen again—”

“that’s not why i called you,” he cuts you off.

al-haitham is a straightforward man. he’s watched many confessions, and he’s read about many confessions, and he’s even thought about how his own confessions might go should he ever find someone he finds interest in.

but this isn’t interest. al-haitham is not interested in you—he needs you. to call this a confession might be incorrect, he thinks for a moment, because this almost feels like he’s about to plead for you to give him a chance.

“oh,” your voice is small.

you think you have an inkling of an idea of what he’ll bring up, and you contemplate running out of his office and begging cyno to tell you a few more of his jokes….or a few dozen….maybe a few hundred to be safe.

“we should talk about that night—”

“well, there’s not much to talk about,” you say simply, “you and i are consenting adults, and we happened to be heavily under the influence, which caused a lapse in judgement. it’s a bit unprofessional, sure, but as long as neither of us say anything, and as long as we manage to keep a professional atmosphere between the two of us, there shouldn’t be any—”

he cuts off your (rehearsed in the bathroom mirror many times) speech as he clears his throat. “i….” the words are caught in his throat.

for a lifetime of straightforward honesty and blunt words, it seems like now of all times he can’t seem to speak.

“you…?” you motion for him to continue.

“i enjoyed it.”

you sputter. his eyes widen as he stumbles over his words when he realizes what he’s really said.

“grand sage,” you gasp, “i think that’s hardly appropriate for—”

“n-no, i meant i enjoyed you,” he says quickly, making you furrow your brows.

“and what does that mean? because—”

“i enjoyed being with you,” he croaks. it’s a good thing kaveh isn’t here to witness this, because as a self proclaimed expert at love (which al-haitham would have to disagree), kaveh would have an absolute ball watching this. “i don’t….i would prefer if we didn’t pretend nothing happened,” he mumbles, “if you feel the same, that is.”

everything about al-haitham is hopeful. from the way his eyes watch your every movement as they stare at you, to the way he clutches the pen in his hand tightly in anticipation of your response, he’s hopeful. you can tell.

you can tell he’s hopeful you’ll say yes, that he’s hopeful you’ll say you feel the same way as him, that he’s hopeful he’ll see you again in a setting that’s not just for work and mission reports and investigation details.

he’s hopeful you’ll say yes to his pleading eyes and fill that empty spot beside him that’s been empty for far too long.

and it feels like swallowing lead when you sigh heavily and watch the hope crumble.

“al-haitham,” you mumble, “this wouldn’t be very wise, you know?”

“and why’s that?” the hurt in his face is almost tangible.

he’s not foreign to rejections, he’s witnessed them his whole life. he watched that haravatat scholar that declined the amurta one outside of class that one year. he read about that main character that found self respect and declined the toxic love interest in that novel he read last summer. he’s declined his own fair share of confessions by random scholars that stare a bit too long at his chest and arms for his liking.

but for some reason, he never imagined it to feel like this. like being with your for one second longer might just burn his skin, but being away from you might leave him cold and numb. al-haitham thinks that if you walked out that door, you might just take every bit of warmth he’s ever known from him—but sitting in front of you, in front of your sorrowed expression and sympathetic eyes….it might be too much heat for him to handle.

“well, you’re the grand sage, and i’m a matra—”

“acting grand sage,” he corrects, “it’s temporary. i’ll be back to being the akademiya’s scribe in a short bit.”

“but people talk,” you insist, “and i’ve worked hard to be a respectable matra, and i wouldn’t want anyone to think i’ve slept my way to the top. plus, the general mahamatra is technically my boss, and he’s very strict—”

“the general mahamatra and i drink at taverns together quite often,” he says pointedly, “he’s well aware of how i feel.”

“you told cyno?” you gasp, shooting him a sharp look, “i asked you specifically not to—”

“he’s known of my feelings before that night,” he assures, “evidently i’m not very subtle.”

“well,” you hum, biting back a smile, “no, you aren’t.”

he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “you’ve known?”

“al-haitham,” you chuckle, eyeing him fondly. something about the way your smile is so bright makes him clutch his pen tighter. “you aren’t the most social, you know. but you always have something to say to me.”

“that doesn’t always mean anything,” he mumbles, blush rising to the tips of his ears.

he’s endearing this way, you decide—when he’s flustered and almost pouting and flushed a bright shade of pink. you think for a second that maybe, if you kiss him for a bit in the comforts of his office, no one will ever have to know.

“but it does, doesn’t it?” you tease.

“and if you’ve indulged it all this time, am i safe to assume it means something to you too?” he asks, raising a brow.

you should say no. sleeping with the grand sage and kissing him in his office and maybe even going on dates and possibly holding hands is hardly a good look—but the scribe….well, maybe the scribe is a different story.

“ask me again when you’re the akademiya’s scribe,” you say, biting back a smile, “perhaps my answer will be different then.”

“i see,” he nods, biting back a smile of his own, “i suppose the grand sage isn’t everyone’s type, huh?”

“no,” you chuckle, “i suppose not. but the scribe….well, he’s rather charming.” you walk up to him, lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as you mumble, “i don’t mind waiting for the scribe.”

“well, lucky for you, you won’t have to wait too long,” he hums.

he watches you leave his office—and then he decides that when he clocks out at five pm sharp later, he’ll go straight home, tell kaveh that he is, in fact capable in the field of romance, and demand this month’s rent.

—————

“haitham, we’re out of eggs,” you pout, poking your head out of the fridge, “will you bring some on the way home today?”

“we would have eggs if kaveh didn’t use all of mine,” al-haitham grumbles, glaring at the blonde who gasps in offense.

“and you help yourself to my beer, don’t you? i deserve a few eggs,” kaveh huffs.

“well, make sure you pay this month’s rent on time. we’re going to buy some more furniture for our room.”

this time, kaveh turns to you in disbelief—you find it amusing how he seems to still find it improbable that anyone would like to spend longer than five minutes with al-haitham, let alone share a bedroom.

“are you really sure you want to do this? what could you possibly see in him? he’s the most aggravating individual i’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to,” kaveh eyes you in concern as you walk over and press a soft kiss to al-haitham’s forehead, earning himself an unimpressed glare from the scribe and making you giggle.

“he is a bit aggravating,” you agree with a teasing glint, pinching al-haitham’s cheek as he scoffs, “but i think he’s just nice to me because i sleep with him.”

“that’s gross,” kaveh wrinkles his nose, “you had better not be doing anything i can hear from my room—that would be traumatic. although, it must be more traumatic for you,” he says with sympathy.

“if you don’t like it, you can simply move out,” al-haitham, shrugs, wrapping an arm around your waist. as much as you love your boyfriend—and you love him quite a bit, you can’t help but mourn the fact that constant bickering will now become a staple in your daily routine.

“are you threatening me?” kaveh gasps before he turns to you with his finger pointing to al-haitham, “do you see? this is your future, i hope you know that. he’s much more unpleasant to live with, i’m warning you in advance—don’t say i didn’t try.”

“well, i’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior for me,” you grin, eyeing al-haitham playfully as your fingers weave into his hair, “otherwise, i’ll have to come sleep in your room when i’m mad at him.”

you think, for the first time ever, kaveh and al-haitham seem to agree on something as they both share a look of dread at your words.

pov: you write 3.8k words of build up for a plot just so you can write the last scene 😭

no bc literally i meant to write this as a drabble just so i could write that last scene bc i thought of it and giggled but then the plot just kept going and now we’re at 4.1k words like w h a t

#teepods.writings #fics.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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fangweaver2099 · 5 months ago

Text

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 1

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

PART 2

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

You squint at the request - you can see his icon is his torso.

You knew you had to snoop - be careful. The classic teen girl not wanting to be abducted shit. His skin was tanned - pale palms and even skintone told you he wasn’t a white guy. NYC was a melting pot - so you weren’t about to think too hard about it. You scroll through his writings. Most were boring and formal. You debate reading over the ‘contract template’ he had posted but decide against it.

His pictures are, mostly, not entirely him. A few torso shots showing off dark hair and abs - or more casual showing off a normal looking body of a dude who clearly worked out. The others are a few different women in different states of undress smothered in bondage ropes, always a bright red. The one that intrigues you the most again has the face censored by a black bar, but she’s hung upside down against the wall, diamonds of rope on her thighs as she’s suspended before red rope that was weaved into a massive spider web. He was a fan of spiders - the user name made sense.

The photos were old, from 2016 at the newest. The photos of him were new - posted just 6 months ago.

His wall was what told a touch of his story. You scroll down dozens of posts, women and men acting friendly or asking to meet up again. You wonder if he used to be a community person, the anon nature of his account was new? Could you check on the wayback machine?

You tab back into his chat.

“hey. are you really 6’9? ” - Fawnteeth - 10:19 PM

10:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You think I’d lie about that?”

“maybe. I know a lot of guys who lie about their height, I’m tall enough to tell.” - Fawnteeth - 10:20 PM

10:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Smart to ask. Yes, I am really 6’9”. Is height a big seller for you?”

“when you’re a tall woman, it is.” - Fawnteeth - 10:20 PM

10:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You want me to make you feel small. Noted.”

“what had you messaging me? you seem popular.” - Fawnteeth - 10:21 PM

10:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been in the scene for a long time, made my way around. Your interests line up and you seem at least somewhat concerned about your own anonymity.”

“here I thought you’d say you found me pretty.” - Fawnteeth - 10:22 PM

10:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Shallow compliments hardly get us anywhere. Besides, that’s a given.”

“well, thank you anyway. need to keep this and my personal life separate, like you I see.” - Fawnteeth - 10:23 PM

10:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ “We all have our secrets and reasons to keep them.”

“serial killer sorta secrets?” - Fawnteeth - 10:24 PM

“I’m kidding.” - Fawnteeth - 10:24 PM

10:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“I can try. it’s not like you’re a blank profile, web.” - Fawnteeth - 10:25 PM

10:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Maybe you shouldn’t. Things like that are easy to fake. You’re clearly trying to keep a secret, which means if I met up with you no one would know where you went. Would be a good tactic if�� I was preying on little girls.”

You stare at his message for a moment, forcing in a quick breath you sit up as your bed creaks. Okay, time to take things a bit more seriously.

“Good thing I’m not a little girl. I do appreciate the concern, it’s attractive.” - Fawnteeth - 10:27 PM

10:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Lot’s of untrustworthy people on sites like this. Ones that will lull you into a sense of security.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware. You think I should be afraid of you?” - Fawnteeth - 10:27 PM

10:28 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes. You can’t trust me right away.”

“Well, I like the honesty. I don’t think I have any plans to meet up with anyone soon - not even you.” - Fawnteeth - 10:30 PM

10:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Of course you don’t. You’re new at this.”

“Did I really give it away that quickly?” - Fawnteeth - 10:31 PM

10:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes.”

You stare at the screen for a long moment, eyes wide. How the hell do you reply to that? Is he ending the conversation? Did you already fuck things up? At this point, most men would be falling over themselves to impress you, not making you feel intimidated . You feel your core throb as you click back to his profile, scrolling over dozens of comments on his wall from years ago - the fact is, his profile spans back years. Longer. He’s experienced, and… he isn’t wrong, either.

“Is that a problem? I hope it isn’t. You’re the first dude who hasn’t asked me for nudes yet.” - Fawnteeth - 10:32 PM

10:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. You should be more careful though, me explaining that and this is something you should be suspicious of. Wanting to ‘protect’ you because you’re young and need to be taught the ropes, so to speak.”

“Got it, Sir.” - Fawnteeth - 10:34 PM

“Wait, can I call you that?” - Fawnteeth - 10:34 PM

You cringe, placing the laptop on the bed for a moment. Shit - you’ve already messed up.

10:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s acceptable. If you ever call me ‘Daddy’ however I will block you.”

10:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s not a joke.”

You open your eyes, glancing over at the chat and his two messages. Raising a brow, you lean in, shifting the laptop back into your lap.

“Understood. Not my thing.” - Fawnteeth - 10:35 PM

10:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “What is your thing, Fawn?”

“Well… I like giving up control… Feeling like prey. I’ve always loved deer, something about being so fiercely defenseless as a fawn in a wolf’s maw is thrilling.” - Fawnteeth - 10:37 PM

10:37 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No wonder you brushed over the red flags.”

“Maybe.The whole giving up control is why most submissives are here, aren’t they?” - Fawnteeth - 10:38 PM

10:40 PM - WebRigger2099 - “The illusion of giving up control. Any good dominant knows the submissive is the one with the power. Safe words, limits, contracts - it all relies on knowing they can end things whenever they want to explore it safely.”

“Of course.” - Fawnteeth - 10:40 PM

10:40 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Of course? So you have those things ready for me?”

“ Safe words and how I prefer them - yes. Limits, I think so. Contract - no. ” - Fawnteeth - 10:40 PM

10:42PM - WebRigger2099 - “I need one for slow down/ease up and one for an immediate stop. I also need a physical sign if you are unable to say your safe words. Please list them.”

10:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Send me 4 lists: Favorites, Yes, Maybe, and No not ever. Include everything you can think of. If you do not include something that I am interested in I will ask about it and we will consider it a maybe until you’ve had time to consider it and possibly research.”

10:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You will not need a premade contract. I have a basic format we can edit to our needs. If it goes that far.”

“Is the green, yellow, red method good with you?” - Fawnteeth - 10:44 PM

10:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes.”

“That’s good.” - Fawnteeth - 10:44 PM

“...And I'll get you the other things - do you have any hard nos I should know of?” - Fawnteeth - 10:44 PM

10:45 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Send me yours and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay.” - Fawnteeth - 10:45 PM

You take your time in a Google document, carefully considering your late-night Archive Of Our Own feed. Anxiety tells you to rush, but you get the energy that Web isn’t the kind of guy who wants you to rush.

“ Will you click links? Google Docs. ” - Fawnteeth - 10:55 PM

10:55 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ I applaud you if you somehow hack me from a google docs link. I have a very good firewall as a warning. ”

You couldn’t help but grin at his reply - you’re charmed by him. Oh no.

“I’d figure as much. Here.” - Fawnteeth - 10:57 PM

“ [Google Docs Link] “ - Fawnteeth - 10:57 PM

10:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll ask specifics soon but I want to be clear about this - I want something in person, but that is not on the table until the end of the summer. I have obligations. If that is a problem I don’t want to waste your time.”

“That’s fine. I know we’re both in NYC. I’m kinda glad as I don’t think I’m ready to meet up soon anyway.” - Fawnteeth - 10:57 PM

10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Gives us time to get to know each other and learn expectations.

“Then it sounds like we’re on the same page.” - Fawnteeth - 10:58 PM

10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good. Due to this being a distance-based arrangement for the time being I cannot touch you myself; Have you heard of a lovense?”

“I have. Aren’t those expensive?” - Fawnteeth - 10:58 PM

10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Money isn’t a concern for me, and anything I get you is a gift. The only expectation is to use whatever I provide. Acceptable?”

“Yes. I don’t take pictures or videos with my face in them.” - Fawnteeth - 10:58 PM

10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I noticed.”

10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Neither do I. That isn’t a problem.”

“Glad to hear that.” - Fawnteeth - 10:59 PM

“...So…” - Fawnteeth - 10:59 PM

10:59 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Your list says nothing about exhibitionism. If I were to tell you to wear your lovense during the day would that be acceptable?”

For a moment you stare at his message. Now that you’re not under your father’s roof, you have free reign to do whatever, and it’s honestly not like your roommates haven’t done weirder, less appropriate shit in far more public spaces.

“That’s fine as long as I’m not visiting family. I live somewhere else.” - Fawnteeth - 10:59 PM

10:59 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ You say you like roleplay. Are there specific scenarios you’re interested in?”

“Do you know what dead by daylight is?” - Fawnteeth - 10:59 PM

11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can’t say I do.”

“...Well. I wasn’t joking about the idea of enjoying being hunted. I guess. Kinda embarrassing to admit to a stranger.” - Fawnteeth - 11:00 PM

11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Does that embarrassment excite you, Fawn?”

“Maybe.” - Fawnteeth - 11:00 PM

11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I expect yes or no answers. If you’re not sure say so.”

“Yes, then.” - Fawnteeth - 11:00 PM

11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. What do you want me to do when I catch you?”

There’s no hesitation, no doubt in the message. What do you want when I catch you. Not would you want, not if I caught you. When. You can’t help but squirm. For a moment, you consider pacing your tiny, cluttered bedroom.

“Is whatever you want the wrong answer?” - Fawnteeth - 11:01 PM

“I might be new, but I think I’m kinda open. I want to please, I suppose.” - Fawnteeth - 11:01 PM

11:01 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Not at all a wrong answer.”

11:02 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Have you ever been spanked before? You said it was a favorite.”

“Yes.” - Fawnteeth - 11:02 PM

You bite your lip - it technically isn’t a lie. You have been spanked - just… not sexually. It’s fine .

11:02 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you be willing to use a paddle, crop or belt in my absence if I believe you need punishment?”

“I’m not sure. I have a very high pain tolerance, but I don’t live alone, sound is a concern.” - Fawnteeth - 11:02 PM

11:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Not a problem. Making a small list for a care package if you show me potential is all.”

“Well, what can I do to impress you, Sir?” - Fawnteeth - 11:03 PM

“I don’t mind homework, for lack of a better word.” - Fawnteeth - 11:03 PM

11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Eager, aren’t you? I’m not done.”

11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Dirty talking. What are your limits, and do you have a specific pet name you want me to use?”

“I like Fawn, obviously. Affectionate things, I think it’s better figuring it out organically. Feels more genuine.” - Fawnteeth - 11:04 PM

11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “And no humiliation.”

11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Understood.”

11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I have rules. It’s better that I tell you about them early. They’ve scared most people off.”

“ Well. I won’t pass judgment immediately.” - Fawnteeth - 11:05 PM

“I don’t cut my hair.” - Fawnteeth - 11:05 PM

11:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I would be disappointed if you did. Speaking of, I only allow my submissive to trim their pubic hair for one, no shaving it.”

“That’s fine with me. I haven’t shaved anything in a while.” - Fawnteeth - 11:05 PM

11:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ If you are going to be unavailable for more than a few hours I expect an explanation so I know you are safe. I don’t allow my partners to go to clubs or bars without me either. If this becomes serious I expect you to download a location tracking app so I know where you are at all times.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I don’t go out much.” - Fawnteeth - 11:06 PM

11:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I am not polyamorous. If you want to be mine you are only mine, and I will hold myself to the same standard.”

“That’s fine with me. I have been talking to someone else, but about as much as you at this point. Honesty and all that stuff.” - Fawnteeth - 11:06 PM

11:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I don’t let things I own go into disrepair; You will take care of yourself and report what you don’t complete. Punishments will be given if you do not complete these tasks.”

11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “The basic daily requirements are the following: Three meals a day, showering every day, an hour of exercise and a consistent bedtime during weekdays.”

“Okay. Did this really scare people off?” - Fawnteeth - 11:07 PM

11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “People have called me controlling. It sounds like you want to surrender your control though.”

“Not wrong.” - Fawnteeth - 11:07 PM

11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ You’re not hard to read.”

“I’ll try and take it as a compliment.” - Fawnteeth - 11:07 PM

11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Deception and confusion are a waste of time. Own it.”

“I’ll try my best. I’m used to being considered odd.” - Fawnteeth - 11:08 PM

11:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Are you?”

“I’m on fetlife. So, yes.” - Fawnteeth - 11:08 PM

11:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I suppose.”

11:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ We already established you’re new to this. Will I be your first dominant?”

“Yes. Not my first partner.” - Fawnteeth - 11:08 PM

11:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Were they not interested in this?”

“I never brought it up to them. I don’t really want romance right now.” - Fawnteeth - 11:09 PM

11:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “And if you fall for me?”

“I’d rather talk about it then, I suppose. I don’t get the vibe from you that you’re looking for romance, just a pet.” - Fawnteeth - 11:09 PM

11:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good, and no, not right now.”

“But you think I’ll fall in love with you?” - Fawnteeth - 11:09 PM

11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re young and inexperienced. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.”

11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ My last important rule - no drugs, limited alcohol. If you drink you must have friends with you that are reliable or myself. Drinking and doing drugs is just asking to put yourself in a vulnerable situation. It’s a precaution some have complained about.”

With how much he spoke of other people not liking his rules it was almost like he was trying to talk you out of it.

“That’s fine. I celebrated my 21st by watching movies.” - Fawnteeth - 11:10 PM

11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “What movies?”

“Midsommar, it’s my favorite. Silence of the lambs too. Roomies insisted on watching Barbie after that. lol ” - Fawnteeth - 11:10 PM

11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ You like horror.”

“Yes. I thought the ghostface poster in my 3rd photo gave it away.” - Fawnteeth - 11:11 PM

11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “And you’d like him or some other violent thing to chase you down and do whatever they wanted with you instead of killing you.”

11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It must make watching movies with a group tense if that’s what is going through your mind.”

“I won’t say it doesn’t.” - Fawnteeth - 11:11 PM

11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Let me guess: some part of you likes the discomfort?”

“Honestly. I haven’t thought about it. Probably.” - Fawnteeth - 11:11 PM

11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I think you’d like to walk around with a lovense in you, never knowing when I might turn it on or increase the settings. You enjoy suspense.”

“ It’s appealing, yeah.” - Fawnteeth - 11:12 PM

You sit back on your bed, propping up the laptop with your pillows. Why did you love that this guy was reading you like an open book? You take in a deep breath, remember - play it cool.

11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - “What do you want out of all of this?”

“My first thought is sex - but also to learn myself a bit more, I guess. Explore something with a partner I can trust… Please someone, feel better about myself. Like I said - I’m a tall woman, it doesn’t exactly make you feel pretty.” - Fawnteeth - 11:12 PM

11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - "Okay, sounds good."

You bite your lip, reading over the message on your dimly lit phone screen over and over again. Curling up tighter into the cotton blanket on your bed, you exhale, the cheap mattress creaking underneath you. You flinch, eyes flickering towards the shut door of your bedroom. Your heart flutters in your chest for a few moments until silence rings in your ears.

You haven’t woken up any of your roommates.Thank god.

Sighing, you turn your attention back to your phone, looking over the message again.

11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - "Okay, sounds good."

Usually men are more expressive in their text speech when it comes to you - to the extent that some even make you uncomfortable. But WebRigger2099… is very much not . You’ve dubbed him 'Web' in your head, easy enough with his username.

Web is formal, speaks with proper punctuation and never a single spelling mistake or emote. He’s direct, not flowery or soft in any way. But… you kind of like that. Direct is easy. There’s no guessing games with instructions and meanings laid out plainly.

11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 -“ You are very pretty, by the way. ”

You blush.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #fanfic #fanfiction

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jolynesmom · 8 months ago

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aging yourself up or down in your dr (+ dating)

I actually refrained from talking on this topic on my tiktok since I knew I was going to get chased off the app and didn’t see a point in talking about it on tumblr since everybody here seems to be more open minded and mind their own business, until I saw multiple posts a few days ago here, where the op were shaming people for changing their age or changing the ages of people in their dr

those people definitely came from tiktok and I honestly hope this post reaches them as I didn’t want to directly interact with them

I think one of the posts was about how adults age ‘minors’ in their dr to date them is problematic, which made me laugh, because how is it problematic if they’re both the same age in their dr?

and the sad thing about that post is that the op said that they’re aware how shifting works and all that, but still finds it problematic and hopes people that do that never shift which is just… girly I hope YOU never shift because you don’t deserve it for shaming people trying to live their lives

I’m not going to go into details about the og posts, but they still have the outdated idea that if you shift for a character that is much younger than you here it’s ‘problematic’. once again: how is it problematic if you’re the same age in your dr?

and then they hit you with another outdated take ‘it’s problematic because you find them attractive here’ which is ridiculous because of so many reasons

1.many characters (especially anime characters) don’t act or look their age. if your perceived a character as an adult initially then found out they’re a minor, I simply don’t care. ages in fiction never matter, if your mind perceived x as a certain age then they’re that age idc; 99.99% people are attracted to a character for who they are, not their age

2.many people had crushes on characters when they were younger or the same age with that character and still like them. let’s boo them that their crush on the character didn’t die and their fav character didn’t age, acting like you’re not going to be in their place in a few years

‘not true I’ll stop liking my favorite character when I’m of age 😡’

okay sweetie keep telling yourself that, because I keep seeing people on tiktok that had this mentality: they liked an underage character when they were minors and wanted to shift for them, now they’re adults, haven’t shifted yet but STILL like that character and regret having said they’re gonna stop liking that character when they’re adults because it didn’t happen lol

3.people don’t always script that an underage person here will be their s/o, it just might happen. I’m actually going to use myself as an example for this: so here I’m an adult and I’m also aroace which I dislike because I always dreamed of a fantasy novel like romantic relationship, so I’m straight or bi in most of my drs so I can date. in my jujutsu kaisen dr, all the people in jujutsu tech are adults because I don’t like teens or kids and don’t wanna hangout with them. in my 30+ drs I only have 3 scripted s/os which are all adults here. I didn’t script an s/o for my jjk dr, because I want to focus more on friendships and training there (but secretly hoped choso would pick me, a girl can dream ok); a few weeks ago I channeled multiple people from my dr (yuuji, megumi, nobara, gojo, nanami and geto) and I received normal messages from all of them. I expected all of their answers, except yuuji’s answers which had romantic aspects to them. that made me realize that he might have a crush on me and maybe we’ll even date in my dr or something? who knows, I didn’t think too much about it so idk

so now if a character that’s underage here likes me in my dr, am I supposed to refuse them or shift out? lmao you’re delusional if you think I’m doing that

4.people that have never experienced adolescence love here. a lot of people dreamed of having that sweet experience of teenage romance that disney and an insane amount of shows and movies love to push, but instead their teen years were filled with abuse and hate. why shouldn’t they shift to experience what was taken from them here?

ALSO let’s switch this around: why is okay for minors to date adults in their dr, but not the other way around?

‘it’s not as bad 🤓☝🏻’

imma be the devil’s advocate and say it’s just as bad

do you genuinely think it’s okay to be a minor here and date an adult in your dr? like do you really think your s/o would feel comfortable being sexualized by a minor and dating a person that’s a minor in another reality? you lowkey forced your partner to become a pedo if you think about it 🙁 /jk

and also if you shift to a reality where you’re a minor and become of age there, you’re officially an adult and shouldn’t date minors anymore, even in your ‘original reality’ where you’re still a minor. please keep the same standards for yourself

#reality shifting #shifting #desired reality #dr #shifting rant #shifting discourse #anime shifting #shiftblr

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girlreblogger · 10 months ago

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the annoyance with blk y/n and the stories she’s in is hilarious. her characteristics might be the problem one day or her side characters the next. it legit feels like we may never get to a balanced solution on what to do with our own representation since the wrong ppl always talk about it and create it. we have mean and shallow ppl who take over the conversation, ppl who really self hate but try and cover it up with “i just don’t want her to be a stereotype” and then the ones who probably love and support tyler perry movies.

the bottom line is the ppl who do write those niggafying, toxic (it’s a buzzword but that’s what they are) or smutty fics (not talking abt the actual good ones with a blk reader though 🧎🏽‍♀️) can do wtv they want and owe you nothing. that’s why they get so frustrated. i don’t think all the times those should be crucified for what they write when other groups of ppl (or our own) write all kinds of other crazy shit.

and.. i know a lot of ppl who don’t want to say it but y’all keep bringing up the smut and niggafying as the main problem, but i think it’s some of the ppl writing it and their underlings. it’s just no one wants to say anything.

an excerpt from a draft of mine

“a lot of ppl on here be weirdos or mean asl. so when someone block you don’t be like “oh what i did” “they that mad cause of my (internet—fictional—digital on screen) presence”

like nobody got time to go to your acc and say “i don’t like you” who cares. oddly some miserable ppl do actually but still. the lack of awareness is ridiculous. that’s why ppl don’t f with y’all.”

i was talking abt all of tumblr and every other app but it applies here.

from what i see on here, some are just straight up weird, cliquey, and chiesty (if that’s how you spell it) and that’s why ppl be so mad abt those types of books 💀. we also have to acknowledge the amount of overwhelming & honestly damaging blk yn fics (not to be confused with ppls screwed ideas of stereotypical) there are. i understand why ppl write them for personal reasons but when it comes to our own reflections of ourselves as blk women it’s almost hurtful to read some of the things people put “her” through. i mean even her with a white man that use aave and has cornrows is hurtful.. 😔 (i’m trolling now 💀) naw but fr. i personally don’t like reading blk women just being written for smut or going through crazy situations or kinda like.. i don’t wanna say unfulfilling but like.. idk i can’t think of the word. (edit: ppl write blk yn to be in unfulfilling situations) but girl i can watch a tyler perry movie for all that.

again. ppl write these stories for there own personal reasons, relate to them and enjoy them for those reasons as well. that’s why depending! on what it is i don’t think blk writers should be bombarded with hate like that. also ion think smut should be banned like y’all go to far can we just slow down on it … there are some nice ones out there i promise 🧎🏽‍♀️

but in all seriousness there are many other reasons why i feel toxic and smutty fics are popular for blk yn but i don’t think anyone cares to hear that and the conversion will prolly go back to nigga eren somehow which is crazy cause y’all be arguing over a fictional white man.

oh! 😒 i almost forgot 😒 the ppl who are against “ghetto” y/n to try and advocate for more fluffy or like.. normal (healing) stories and from what i see the ppl who are the most up in arms about it in my personal opinion seem to dislike certain parts of blkness that i appreciate personally and so i just straight up disregard their opinions. y/n doesn’t have to “act” (😒) blk but i see ppl get mad about her protecting her hair….. with a bonnet….

sigh, anyway but yeah we need more soft and sweet fics or just like calming ones? but someone gon have to write it! i don’t like this app or my writing all too much so i gave up a while ago.

just like many other blk writers….

gaspp! we should also do like a fluff challenge or sumn where writers do like fluff … march? girl idk so maybe that will trend and all the ppl who spend time arguing and going back and forth with ppl who write stories they don’t like can like idk look for other writers who write soft, normal, fun stories and reblog them or make a list of them. or maybe like possibly write their own stories too????

everyone says the smut fics gets the most likes and they do. that’s why you keep seeing them. so maybe support or refreakingblog the fics that are comforting to you so others can be as well.

i actually made this page to repost softer fics because i was tired of blocking certain tags so i can avoid heavy smut and subtly abuse fics. also pls leave the ppl who niggafy anime characters alone they will not be stopped. i mean we still have ppl who have been calling chris evans jamal since 2020.. calling him that to this date. married and all.

sigh… 2 more days until blk history month ends. maybe next year we can find a balance between “dramatic” and smutty fics and soft and slice of life ones for blk y/n next year. remember this is tumblr too and the ppl writing aren’t even getting paid for this but it’s for the ppl yk.

ppl who are respectful and reblog tho.

muah

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ramshackledtrickster · 4 months ago

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Because of tumblr being weird and acting up, my initial post about having a patreon now didn’t show up in the dominant fandom tag I use, so trying this again with a different link style !

I’ve got a patreon now!

Thank you guys all so much for your incredible support through the years (and those who had begun supporting me on patreon! Seriously you guys are the best)— the extra support means the world to me ❤️

I would like to warn however— try not to use the Patreon app on an apple device, since Apple is charging a 30% fee. I think you can bypass this through using the browser or using a different device so yeah. Heads up

#assassins creed #leonardo da vinci #my art #fanart #patreon

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silence-ofthe-llamas · 14 days ago

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I feel I’m VERY late to the party with the mecha AU considering how bone deep Pacific Rim runs within me but I’m chomping at the bit. Gnawing at it. I LOVE YOU ALL. I’ve reactivated my tumblr for this. Good god. @keferon my leige. I'm meant to be SLEEPING.

Anyway, I’m a general nuisance, I wont be following much of the pre-established lore too closely because of who I am as a person, bone app the teeth.

TexAid for the soul is more potent than Chicken soup.

First Aid wakes up in an ice cold sweat.

It’s not the first time. He’d lost count, actually – it seemed that every morning was the same now. He’d wake up, he’d shudder, he’d carefully extract himself from his damp-with-sweat duvet, he’d shower, and then he’d pretend that everything was perfectly fine and normal.

His function first and foremost was one of a medic. He trained to work with live patients. His expertise was with the living, not the cold stares of the dead.

But lately, all he’d been dealing with were corpses, and it all came down to one reason.

Vortex.

Superstition wasn’t something that he bought into, but the theory on base was that the mech was haunted. At the start, he didn’t believe it – mechanics were plagued with stray code, oddly executed scripts. There was nothing supernatural about it. All of the pilots said that they felt another presence within their mechs with them – there wasn’t anything special about Vortex’s AI. If one wanted to look at it that way, all of their mechs were haunted.

But Vortex was different. Of course he fucking was, why wouldn’t he be. No, no, nothing was allowed to be normal. Ever. Firstly, there was the staring. The mechs weren’t meant to stare, but whenever he went close to Vortex, he could feel his piercing gaze against him. It wasn’t normal. They should have been offline without any human input, but Vortex stayed stubbornly awake and studied his every move. Sometimes he’d swear he could hear his internals humming, the rumble of moving parts, his plating trembling and straining against the dock as he tried to move. If someone got too close to him, he’d hear the hum of weapons systems warming up. It was part of their onboarding process that they were warned against approaching him, now. He’d cut them down without a second thought.

There was also the small fact that he had a tendency to kill his pilots. And it wasn’t even an exaggeration – their means of slaughter always came from within. The cameras that filled the insides didn’t show any breaches, no weapons were brought on board, the vital signs monitors from the pilots and their own helm-mounted cameras showed no foul play of an external parties part. No. It was… Vortex. The mech showed his displeasure in a shower of blood and moving parts – and that was if he was being nice. If they weren’t power washing the remains of a digestive tract from his floor, they were manoeuvring a live body that acted like a dead weight, the pilot a stuttering mess, mentally shattered and broken. They’d never managed to get any of them back into active duty – a lot of them First Aid had no idea what had happened to them. They were simply shipped off somewhere, never to be heard of or seen from again. The worst part of it was that they were all missing fingers, as if they’d been cleaved right off by sharp metal as they reached out for something.

An alarm ripped through the base, and he gagged on his morning coffee. He knew what that meant – deployment. And with deployment came another victim, courtesy of Vortex, and all that horrid stench and morbid fascination that sent his spine tingling and brain firing to the point of insanity that paired so closely with it.

Ambulon frowned at him. “Jittery this morning, Aid.”

“I just know I’ll be on Vortex duty again.” He groaned.

Ambulon patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you, Aid. Pharma only does it because he trusts you.”

Yeah, right. It’s so I haven’t got an excuse to be by the morgue.

You steal one Quintesson body…

He briefly remembered the smell of the grave dirt as he’d re-interred them into the ground instead of the stone cold morgue, and quickly smelled his coffee instead.

The deployment seemed to last an age. First Aid managed to get through all of his deskwork before they returned, and Vortex staggered into his bay. First Aid was waiting patiently by the gate as the docking station clasped around him, holding him in place as cables came down from the ceiling to plug into him.

“How many bets this guys dead?” Someone behind him asked, elbowing the one stood next to him. First Aid ignored them, focusing intently on the mech.

He could see blood behind the glass. It was leaking out down the side – they were more than dead. They’d been eviscerated.

The visor lifted with a loud hiss, and First Aid took a deep breath. He held it so he didn’t have to inhale the initial stench – that part was always the worst, having been left to fester within him – and carefully studied the scene before him.

Organs hung down from the ceiling. Scraps of fabric hung limply from the still locked harness.

“What did he do to them?” First Aid quietly asked himself as he stepped forwards with a bucket.

There was a rule - you never got inside Vortex on your own. First Aid followed it religiously, and he could hear someone behind him, and so he felt perfectly comfortable in getting inside.

Only the visor snapped shut with a sickening crack as their leg was cleaved clean through, the scream barely muffled by the glass.

“No!” First Aid flew to the glass of the visor, pounding against it. “Are you okay?!”

What a stupid question that had been. Of course he wasn’t okay. The smell in the air burned at his throat and turned his stomach, and he looked down at the dismembered leg.

He couldn’t breathe. Or he was breathing too much? He didn’t know, but his chest ached and his head spun and he felt like ice had been injected straight into his veins, every hair stood on end as panic gripped him. It took every ounce of self control he had to not scream from terror when he heard pistons loudly slam into place, firmly locking the visor.

Oh, god, have mercy.

Emergency exits. These things had them, right? He’d had to pull a barely conscious pilot from one once – he’d gotten trapped in it in a malfunctioned ejection sequence. The button would be big and bright red, surely – and with a protective cover so they didn’t smack it by mistake in the middle of a fight and end up launched into the face of a Quintesson. His eyes scanned wildly, breath catching in his chest as he tried to suck in air that didn’t make him want to vomit, hands hovering over the dash. Mental images of the pilots missing their fingers played in his head like an omen.

There. Bright red. The words were worn off, the plastic scratched. The metal around it was worn and faded from use, and the plastic cover was long gone.

Blood crusted it. He smacked it anyway.

Nothing.

He looked back to where it should have been, hyperventilating. What did that mean? The techs had never found anything to be wrong with it before. Everything was functioning as normal – it was why Vortex was still even allowed to be operated. So why didn’t the emergency escape open?

Red light flooded the cockpit. His teeth chattered together as he slowly turned to look at the display that had lit up, white text running across it.

[LEAVING SO SOON?]

“I’m just a medic.” First Aid pathetically said. He almost bit his tongue.

[TAKE A SEAT]

Tears prickled his eyes as he unbuckled the harness and sat down. He tried to ignore the wet squelch as he sat in what remained of the previous human who sat there.

“What do you need from me?” He tried to sound strong as he asked.

The screen remained blank. The lights slowly dimmed, leaving him in the dark with only the sound of Vortex’s hot systems for company. He tried to calm his breathing, timing it to the rhythmic thunk of a nearby fuel pump, and wrung his fingers together.

It would be okay. It would be okay. Everything was going to be okay-

The chair suddenly flew backwards, and First Aid shrieked. His throat felt raw with how hard he’d screamed, clinging on tightly to whatever he could get his hands on. He studiously kept his limbs away from the console – he had a theory on how they’d lost their digits, and he was not keen on finding out if it was true. The chair snapped back upright again, and he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes and his bottom lip trembling. The mech shuddered, a grinding sound rumbling through the cockpit and rattling his bones.

[PLUG IN] the screen instructed. A cable fell from the ceiling.

Helmet. He needed a helmet. They had the required port for that cable. He scanned the floor, ignoring the rising nausea as he searched for the helmet from the previous pilot.

There. Behind the chair. He picked it up, and had to look away when he realised the head was still inside. He shook it out, humming loudly to block out the sound of it hitting the floor, and kept his eyes closed as he put it on and ignored how much it stank of organic metal. He reached up for the cable, and gently guided it to the port-

Agony. Burning agony. His back arched as he screamed, hands clutching the helmet as if willing it to stay on despite how hard his legs kicked and thrashed. Electricity coursed straight through him, setting him aflame as his brain tried to catch up with his body.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

First Aid gnashed his teeth together as he fought with his conflicting emotions. He wanted to know why. Why Vortex had trapped him in there, why he had gone to this length to do this to him, why him. But he also wanted to run, to run so far away that he was nothing more than a distant memory. He didn’t want to know why Vortex had taken such an interest in him.

But oh, oh he did. He did want to know what he’d done to catch the AI’s attention.

The pain slowly subsided, the fried nerves numbing to the raw energy that charged through them, and he cracked his eyes open.

[GOOD BOY <3]

“Oh, god, I think I broke something.” First Aid whimpered. He suddenly understood just why so many pilots came to them with nerve damage, with extensive burns, and why most of their heads were metal. The connection was. Intense.

“Don’t be such a pussy.” A voice spoke directly into his head. First Aid gasped, sitting up straighter. It was strangely human, yet equally as mechanical.

“What-!”

“I just want to talk, but it’s so irritating to have to wait for you to read the screen. Removing the barriers is so much easier, isn’t it? Now, to business...”

First Aid gasped and whined as he felt pressure in his head, white not points of pain slowly pressing through his brain. His eyesight flickered and faded in and out, his sight shifting from the inside of the cockpit to the chaos right outside – chaos that he couldn’t even hear – and he was glad to see that the man who had been right behind him was receiving medical attention. What a relief. Humour that wasn’t his and that he didn’t recognise pulled at his lips, and he felt a strong urge to smile so wide that his lips split and cracked.

The pressure on his head increased, and he felt his eyes cross, reality slowly slipping through his fingers like thick slime. Red dripped from his nose. Where was he, again? Why was this happening to him? What was even happening to him- Awareness snapped back to him in time with a loud bang on the glass. He heard his name, muffled. Someone was calling to him. He should go to them, right? “Don’t move, I haven’t finished looking at you yet.” First Aid felt phantom sensations of ice cold hands pressing against his skin, a shudder running up his spine. He felt a prickle run down his arm, chasing the feeling of the tips of someone’s fingers running down the bare skin. Obediently, he held still despite how curious he was to go and look. “I can tell you like the good stuff.” An invisible hand patted his cheek and the mech shuddered, loud and clunking. “God, I’m so lucky I found you.” “Found me?” His chest felt weird. His everything felt weird. It was difficult to keep his eyes open. “I’ve been watching you. On the cameras, when you’re in the hangar with me, your files. Fascinating. How wonderful you are to me.” “That’s a bit creepy. You could have asked first.” “I don’t like being told no.” “I would have liked it more if I’d known it was happening.” Why was he so readily admitting this? Where were his carefully constructed walls and defences, keeping the abnormality at bay? He felt like he was an open book and Vortex was just turning to the pages he wanted to read. “Maybe I’d have done something if I knew I had an audience.” The mech shuddered again, harder this time.

“Come on, baby, talk to me wont you? I’ve been so lonely.”

“Maybe if you stopped killing your pilots you wouldn’t struggle so much with that.” He gritted out. Fuck, everything hurt.

“You’ve got a bit of a mouth on you, don’t you.” A sound that felt like anger rumbled through him. “I like it.”

“Can I go now?” He felt woozy. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong, his ears felt wet and his face felt wet and he could taste copper-

As if on cue, there was a loud bang on the visor – someone was pounding it with their fist. A shared stab of annoyance flashed through them.

“Question first. How did it feel to have a Quintesson in your bare hands?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Come on, don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen everything.” He crooned. “Tell me. I’m so desperate to know. I know you liked it – I can feel it.” It felt as if he had someone’s arms wrapped around him, their mouth right by his ear. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could feel their warm breath ghosting over it.

“It felt fucking amazing.” He thought back to it. The warmth of the body – an infant, tiny in comparison to the adults that dwarfed their houses. How thick their blood was, how it dripped down through his hands. The burn of the smell, mineral rich and glowing bright blue.

“You fucking tease.”

“You cut through them every day.” First Aid argued. “What’s so special about that?”

“You can really feel it. I’ve got metal between me and my prey.”

The banging was louder, and First Aid’s vision shifted to be through Vortex’s. There was a big group of them now, he had an audience.

“I should go.”

“You’ll be back, honey.”

First Aid ripped the helmet off, and nausea hit him like a truck as he felt a sharp wrench in his head. He loudly gagged, folding in half, and pressed a fist to his mouth to keep himself from spilling his guts into the cockpit. Vortex was certain to kill him if he made a mess. Sucking in a deep breath, he staggered over to the glass and gently placed his hand against it. It felt like half of his consciousness was somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t reach.

“Please?” He was starting to feel disorientated, the sudden disengaging scrambling his brain. What memories were his, or the previous pilots? Pain suddenly flashed through him and he screamed, his limbs going numb. He felt warm liquid slowly run down his suit, red blooming amongst the white, bone wrenching from bone-

[LATER, DARLING <3]

Vortex’s visor finally opened, laugher echoing in First Aids head, and he fell out face-first onto the catwalk. He was gasping for breath as he scrambled away, shaking and trembling and swallowing back vomit. His hands flew over his body, checking for injures, for limbs he was certain were missing – intact. He was completely intact. His team had their arms around him and were pulling him away faster, leaving a trail of blood smeared after him – was that his? Or was that the pilots? - and were shouting. All of it was just noise. Pure noise.

Giddiness bubbled up in his chest, and he laughed. It started quietly, a little chuckle. Disbelief at the situation, he thought. Pure, utter relief that he was alive. The cannibal mech had eaten him, but here he was – spat out whole and unharmed. His next laugh was a little louder this time, and Ambulon paused, taking notice. First Aid didn’t see him any more, his whole vision taken up by Vortex and the loud snap of his visor clamping back down into place, a hiss as the mechanism locked it back down. He could have sworn he was smiling, but it was ridiculous – the mech didn’t even have a mouth.

He didn’t realise he was still laughing – and hard – until his stomach began to hurt and he felt light headed. Gasping for breath, he let himself fall back onto the floor, staring blindly up at the ceiling. He could see the red lights of Vortex’s visor reflected on the metal there.

“Felix?” The voice of his mentor pierced through his peals of laugher. First Aid looked up and saw Ratchet running towards him, face twisted in agony. He felt himself start to laugh again, and he had to fight to not start punching himself in the stomach to get himself to fucking stop it. It wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. Why was he laughing.

“Is he hurt? Why is he bleeding?” Ratchet demanded as he knelt down next to him. Ambulons response was inaudible, First Aids ears ringing. He felt something dribble from his mouth, and from the acidic taste in the back of his throat he assumed that he’d finally thrown up. He didn’t remember turning – his airway was clear. Two hands gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at someone.

Ratchet.

“Can you hear me?” He gently asked, tension clear in his voice. First Aid could, but he didn’t know how to respond. He slowly blinked, hands reaching up to clasp at his wrists with trembling hands. The adrenaline was burning off, replacing itself with a leaden heaviness that threatened to drown him. Slowly, he nodded.

Get me away from that mech, he tried to say. They get it and I hate that we understand each other.

Ratchet seemed to hear him. “Help me move him.” He was looking at someone else, but First Aid didn’t want to look away from his face. He committed every detail to memory, every line, every grey hair, every follicle and aged scar and flush of colour. It felt like he was seeing him for the very first time.

The world spun and his stomach clenched as he was lifted unceremoniously onto a stretcher, and he took one last glimpse of Vortex before the oxygen mask was fitted over his face and he couldn’t see anything any more.

09090909

It was highly inadvisable.

But he was doing it anyway.

That taste he’d got of Vortex was like a breath of fresh air to him – he hadn’t realised how stifling the company on base was until he’d met him. Ratchet would be so disappointed in him. Pharma would hang him by his guts. Ultra Magnus would try and make it so he never saw the light of day again.

One moment of feeling his teeth at his throat and he was addicted. He wanted him. He wanted physical scars he could touch and remind himself that it hadn’t been a dream, it was real. Carefully sneaking through the base, First Aid crouched and peered around corners, internally humming the Mission Impossible theme. It felt ridiculous, but if he didn’t distract himself he’d make himself vomit from laughing too much again. He had found a random face mask and slapped it on, hoping that obscuring his identity a little would help him get into character.

They hadn’t found a new pilot for Vortex yet – they still went through the usual procedure of finding one with the right personality and skill set, of testing how well the AI meshed with the mind of the pilot outside of the mech before allowing them to go inside. They had a few candidates, but now it was a question of ‘are they more compatible with other bots?’ and ‘how expendable are they really?’ before they stuck them inside of him.

Like lambs for slaughter. They knew they were going to die – but what else could they do? Vortex was their strongest mech. If he went down, their whole operation would crumble with him. Mechs were expensive and difficult to make, the AI’s complicated and prone to disaster.

Pharma didn’t take his eyes off of him for two whole weeks. He’d fallen out of the mech looking like the pilots whose brains had melted under the pressure, his arm marked with a burn that followed the path of a nerve, mapping it onto his skin. Pharma had stared at it, long and hard, brain ticking over. He wasn’t to go near Vortex again. Not for a while, until they figured out why he’d decided to kidnap him, and why he’d decided to spit him back out. They knew why he’d mangled the other medic. He thought it was fun. He’d said so himself, writing messages in the morning memo. They still hadn’t figured out how he was doing it, but if you were early enough in the day you’d see it before they’d caught it. But First Aid didn’t do too well in following instructions, in listening to orders. The Infant he’d plucked from the formaldehyde to get a better look at was evidence enough of that. The fact he was scrambling to get back inside of Vortex right now was yet another reason why First Aid was to be kept under lock and key - god, if they knew anything about him they’d never let him see the light of day again.

The catwalk that lead out to the mechs was a stones throw away. A guard stood watch, hands firmly on their gun.

God damn it.

First Aid rocked on his feet, wondering how he’d get him to move, when he suddenly felt a prickle on the back of his neck as if he were being watched. He shuddered and whipped his head around.

Nobody. Alone. No eerie glow of a camera – not that there were any over on this side of the hall – and no shadowy figures. He held his breath and strained his ears – all he heard was the cough from the guard and their sigh of boredom. He slowly looked back to the guard, and a faint red glow caught his eye.

Vortex’s visor was on. He was watching.

The sound of something falling to the floor caught the guards attention. He quickly turned and ran out onto the catwalk, looking down at the floor. He quickly looked back up at Vortex and scowled.

“I’m not stupid, Vortex. I’m not going down and getting that.”

Vortex did not respond. The guard tutted and turned on his heel.

Something else fell to the floor, a little louder this time.

The guard threw his head back with a sigh.

“You are the worst.”

He marched off, out of sight, and First Aid saw his window of opportunity. He quickly slipped out, thankful for his socks muffling the sound of his steps, and hid behind the terminal the guard was stationed at before he turned back around and walked over to the terminal.

“Yeah, yeah.” He was speaking to someone on the phone, drumming his fingers on the terminal. “It’s Vortex again. I know, I won’t get close – yeah. He’s dropped two this time.” He paused for a moment, listening to what the person on the other end had to say, before making a sound of disgust. “Go and check? I am not getting close to him!”

First Aid could hear a raised voice on the other side, and strained to see if he recognised it. Before he could pin a face to the voice, the guard sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll go look. You’ve got my will there, right? Take yourself off of it.”

The guard didn’t look back at the terminal as he walked to the stairs and descended down them. First Aid glanced between the stairs and the catwalk, and quickly crawled over. Peering over the side to see where the guard was, he gained an uncharacteristic burst of bravery before he sprinted towards where Vortex was, visor open and waiting for him.

“Can I?” He asked in a hushed whisper. Vortex didn’t respond. He gingerly approached, noticing that every single camera inside his cockpit was trained onto him. He swallowed nervously, and clambered in.

He should have been used to climbing inside of Vortex. He’d done it enough times. Maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing any of his protective gear? Not his uniform, or his helmet, or even his gloves. Just himself and his pyjama shorts, his t-shirt, and his socks with little bears on them.

Mmm. First impressions. Wonderful.

He should have gotten changed first.

[TAKE A SEAT] lit up the screen.

He slipped into the seat obediently, taking care to not touch the controls. He coyly waved at the camera.

“Did I wake you?”

[YOU DIDN’T. I LIKE YOUR SOCKS]

The bears stared back at him. First Aid tried not to think about the rumbling he now recognised as laughter that rolled through the cockpit.

“Thanks.” He replied, red tingeing his cheeks.

[THAT’S A GOOD LOOK ON YOU]

He pressed his legs more tightly together. “The socks?”

[NO, YOU’RE GOING VERY RED]

[MAYBE I SHOULD CALL YOU LITTLE RED INSTEAD]

The helmet dropped from the ceiling, firmly attached to the cable that would connect organic to mechanical.

[I WANT YOU]

[<3]

First aid scrambled with the harness, clipping himself in place, before putting on the helmet. It burned just as badly as the first time, and he saw as the nerves in his arms glowed with the energy of it – without the proper implants, there was nowhere for the current to go but him.

He whined, squirming in the seat. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut, counting down from ten and losing his place three times before the connection settled. Vortex was a heavy and oppressive presence in his mind, and he chewed his cheek as he cracked an eye open.

[LET ME TAKE ANOTHER LOOK AT YOU]

The warning wasn’t even a verbal one. He read helplessly as he felt cold hands clasp him once more. Digital fingers made of 1’s and 0’s probed his brain, and First Aid arched in the seat, teeth clenching down over a loud moan of pain. Neurons fired agonisingly and his hands scrambled at the harness, the tips of his fingers raw and torn and bleeding against the rough fabric. Memories were brought to the surface unbidden, dragged out by artificial means, and others flooded in to take their place. He inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as the realisation hit him. Vortex was trying to show him something. He wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t even an AI.

He’d been entombed in it. In the mech. Vortex had been a real, breathing human being, mocked in a sham trial in the name of obtaining more pilots. Rich men had paid him to do terrible things, and he had taken the entirety of the blame. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of funds, countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears – all for one mech. A prototype, at that.

First Aid blinked as a bright red screen flashed up, text displayed across it. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the drag of sore and exposed flesh against the rough material of his face mask, and blinked.

[LOCKED IN]

“W… what do you mean locked in?” First Aid hesitantly asked. Like… literally, he was locked in? He knew that. He was connected to Vortex’s nervous system – he could feel that there were bolts in place keeping the cockpit well and truly locked down like a fortress, impenetrable except to the override codes the high command kept locked in a vault in their office or the request of the pilot. He felt amusement push at the edge of his awareness, a shudder of a laugh running through the mech, and he clarified.

“I know your dirt, and now you know mine. Do you think high command are going to let you go peacefully?”

Ah. A threat. Of course. Worried he’d run? He wasn’t going to. He was fascinated by this mech – the joy of being caught in his mechanisms was sure to sing in his ears, the pure delight of watching him carefully pick apart his prey like a hawk dismantled a rabbit was like a chorus of cherubs to him. And Vortex knew it, he knew it and he loved it- he was certain of it, the way his mind melded with his, pushing against him and caressing him, a warm blanket around his psyche.

“I’m not going to leave you.” First Aid took a deep breath, the unsettling stench of bleach and cooked meat and rotting oranges filling his lungs. “No, I’m fascinated by you.”

He tensed, eyes briefly widening as he felt a grin that wasn’t his tugging at the corners of his lips, threatening to split his face in two.

“Happy about that?”

“Extremely.” He purred. “I’ve seen what your hands have done, what they’re capable of. I think we’d make a great team.”

“What if I refuse?”

Images flashed in front of his eyes. Bone fragments scattered around the cockpit, blood and guts and gore hanging obscenely from the ceiling. Blood ran thickly on the walls, the smell foul and rotten. First Aid wretched.

“You’ll kill me?” He hated the excitement that bled into his voice, how eager he was to feel the mechanism close down around him, to feel his metal deep inside of him, for his last thought to be about his touch. “It’s a shame you can only do that once, you know. It’s so exciting, all the different ways you could do it to me. You could make me completely unrecognisable, identified by DNA alone. Or maybe flood the cockpit with gas, slowly suffocating me before I realised what was happening.” He bit his bottom lip. “I wish I knew what it all felt like.”

A new image, one of gears and cogs deep inside of him. All sharp angles and straight edges. The presence was probing inside of him, trying to figure out his reactions. He pressed his hand to his mouth and gasped as his teeth pierced his bottom lip without him realising it. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and another. Vortex probed again impatiently. Respond, damn it.

He looked up at the camera, glad that his mask hid his face, the excitement glowing on his cheeks. “I’ll show you.” His voice was breathless. “And if your use for me runs out, give me a little warning before I’m a permanent feature, please?”

“I wont let you run away from me.”

First Aid swallowed hard at the burn of yearning in his chest. “You’d catch me if I tried.”

“Damn fucking right I would.”

He watched the energy sing in his nerves, the pain spreading down his limbs. His digits were starting to go numb. How much longer could he hold out? He never wanted to leave. He felt flayed open and alive. Squirming, screaming, and alive. Red dripped down and stained his pyjama shirt. Damn it. He liked this pair.

“How do you control yourself? You want what I want, you wish you could do it. So why don’t you?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Are you? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

First Aid whimpered as the pages in his mind flicked, a burning sensation flaring in his arms. He watched the skin there turn red, the connection starting to be too much. His nose felt wet as he thought of it, as the memories Vortex was looking at came to the forefront of his mind. He liked surgery. He liked anatomy. He liked the cadavers and how they felt under his hands, picking them apart and pulling on tendons and ligaments to move them like puppets. Even earlier, his first pet. A hamster. He had told his parents that he’d buried it in the garden all by himself, and they had praised him for being such a grown up young boy, when really he had picked it apart like he had practised on his teddy bears and then blamed on the dog before shoving it into a hole in the ground to hide the evidence before anyone had seen what he was doing.

Vortex chuckled.

“Oh, let me show you how exciting a Quintesson can be. Little Hamphrey hasn’t got anything on them.”

#texaid #tf mecha universe #Llama Writes #tf first aid #tf vortex #Jazz Prowl chapter is next but unfortunately it aint as cute as the original AU #forgive me #does this count as dead dove

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lay-z · 9 days ago

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tw: self-shipping; insecurities/self-doubt; handjob; fluff; premature ejaculation; sub!Simon; implied past sexual abuse

Simon gets hard whenever I think of him.

As in, acts of service... gift giving. When I bring him a cuppa whenever he has to work late in his home office or cook his favorite meal at the end of a particularly tough week, or simply when I check in on him, ask him how he's doing.

I don't notice it at first, because stealth is long woven into his DNA, but when he realizes in utter shock that I'm constantly thinking of him without any kind of ulterior motives, he's rock hard within seconds.

No ulterior motives are the key here. Simon is so used to being used, being a weapon, guard, and attack dog that he simply cannot wrap his head around how someone could simply... care about him without wanting anything in return. It's a strange and foreign concept to him.

He thinks me stupid for being so selfless and empathetic. He adores me for being unapologetically me, and he's terrified all the same because someone could easily take advantage of me. But joke's on him, because people have already taken advantage of me for exactly those traits in the past and guess what, Simon? I'll still keep being myself. I'll still care about him, love him.

Simon is shit at initiating intimacy, and so am I, but whenever someone is more scared of something than I am, I rise above my own fears.

He's painfully hard, slit drooling pre into his briefs already, after I bring him a glass of bourbon and rub his tense shoulders briefly while he's watching a football game on TV. I kiss his temple and leave again; leave him to have me-time.

But Simon doesn't want 'me-time' tonight. He wants to feel my soft hands wrapped around his girthy cock, my voice murmuring those tooth-achingly sweet praises into his ear and... Fuck!

His spine arches off the armchair's backrest, his hands ball into fists, massive biceps flexing as he bucks his hips, nearly cumming inside his pants like the pathetic man he deep down feels like he is.

Simon finds me in the bedroom, laying on my stomach on the bed, typing frantically on my phone. He squints his eyes, can see the familiar colours of that Tumblr app in the dim light of the room. I turned on the fairy lights above the headboard, preferring it cosy.

With his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, he approaches silently, sneaking up like the bastard he is.

"Are ya busy, luv?"

The way I flinch and gasp, throwing a glare over my shoulder at him, makes him crack a sly smile.

"I always have time for you... asshole."

He huffs a laugh through his nose and climbs onto the bed, next to me; chest aching with selfish needs and raw affection.

"Writin' yer naughty lil' stories again, eh?" He asks tauntingly, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his hand while his eyes flicker down to look at the curve of my spine, the plumpness of my ass, accentuated by the tight leggings I always wear. Mean. Mean. Mean.

His other hand twitches resting on his hip, long fingers flexing, yearning to touch, to slap, to grope.

I notice how his chest barely moves, breathing too shallow while his deep brown eyes turn black, glowing obsidian in the glow of the fairy lights hanging above. Simon looks possessed, but it doesn't scare me. Quite the opposite.

I save the draft on my phone and put it aside on the bedside table, "You can touch, y'know? I'm all yours."

Simon's jaw clenches, groin tightening painfully at my words. He wants to snap at me to stop saying that, but his cock throbs, leaks, weeps in his pants; throat clicking as he swallows hard.

"Can you ah touch me?" His voice is low, pleading, rough. His pale lashes flutter as he meets my eyes; pale cheeks flushing rapidly.

I immediately perk up like a puppy hearing a command, sitting on my haunches, wagging an invisible tail at the opportunity to serve and it was too fast. His eyes widen, his body tightens, bracing for something bad to happen. He wants to backpedal, to leave at once, but I stay still and wait, wait for him to relax again.

I know how hard it is. I don't like opening up like this and laying myself bare. It's scary and too exciting, too much. The lights had to be off in the beginning of our relationship as we explored each other engulfed in darkness, but Simon was more than alright with it. He is still alright with it, prefers it that way, and I don't push him.

"Yes, I can touch you," I reply softly, "I want to touch you, honey."

As I reach for the switch to turn the fairy lights off, he grabs my wrist and shakes his head, "Leave it on. 's olright."

He rolls onto his back, pulls his hoodie up over his head and exposes his torso; pale skin, massive muscles hidden under a layer of fat, scarred and marked, like cracked marble. I want to bite hard and crack my teeth on it.

My brain short-circuits, words not forming the way I want to, "I like your body a lot." How poetic.

His lips press together, keeping his chuckle inside and I swat the back of my hand against his side, the smack resonating in our quiet bedroom. He bares his crooked teeth in a rare grin and the scars on his cheeks stretch, and he snatches my wrist, pulls me closer to place it on his bulky pec, right above his heart. It beats fast and harshly.

I lean over him, place my other hand on the other relaxed muscle and squeeze the squishy flesh teasingly until they flex and harden beneath my touch, tiny nipples poking against my palms and his grin disappears.

"Bloody tease," he grunts, brows creasing as he gazes up at me, "Ya love my chest tha' much? Pfff " He rolls his eyes.

"Love your cute nips, too."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes even harder back into his skull like the damn brat he truly is.

I lean down and kiss his lips, just a quick peck. It's sweet and a little wet and highly addictive to him. His chest rumbles and his eyes flutter closed.

"More," he grumbles almost begrudgingly.

I hate kissing, it's weird to me but it's bearable with him, because he's less experienced than I am and thankful for each brief brush of our lips.

We kiss clumsily, needing time and time again to find our rhythm, but we find it eventually. Tongues flicking, lips smacking, breath mingling, teeth nibbling. I always giggle at some point, because kissing is just that silly to me.

"Wha'?"

I hum, suppressing a smile against his lips, "Nothing."

My hand sneaks down his buff chest, down the bit of pudge on his stomach until my fingers brush over his dark blonde happy trail. His hips squirm, his muscles tighten and his breath stutters.

"Won't need much to make me... y'know." He admits and exhales a shuddering breath as I pull back to look at him, not quite sure what to make of that statement. Simon thinks of himself a burden, a nuisance.

"I could draw it out," I tell him, running my tongue along my teeth as I ponder our options. I don't feel like having full on sex right now, but I want him to feel good, want to reward him for his behavior tonight. "I could edge you again."

He shakes his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly again, "Nah, no edging, please. Just feel... pent up, because of ya, lovey. Ya care too much 'bout me."

I snort, brows furrowing, "Bullshit. If you like me, you'll stop thinking like that. I like you a lot." Again, pure poetry.

My hand slips into his pants, wretch between the tight fabric until I can pull his fat cock out of its mean confinement. His shaft is already sticky with precum and more is dribbling out of his slit.

"You're a bloody mess, Simon Riley."

Simon groans gruffly, head tilting back, eyes squeezing shut. The sound reverberates against my own chest, tickles my insides.

I use his arousal as lube, give his thick, rigid cock a few slow pumps before I increase the pace, squeezing his warm flesh as I work it. His chest heaves with harsh breaths, moving me on top of him until one arm drapes around my back, anchoring me to him while he digs his meaty fingers into my supple curves.

I watch in awe and utter adoration as his brows furrow, how his lips part and his throat clicks, how he bites his lower lip to keep his noises at bay. He's beautiful.

"Gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, do me the honour."

And it's all it takes for Simon to completely shatter, break and be fixed again in the span of mere seconds while his powerful body quakes beneath me and his cock erupts with his release. Thick, hot gushes of cum coating his lower belly, dripping down my knuckles.

"Good boy," I murmur against his throat, eyes shutting with a breathy sigh, "What a good boy for me."

Simon whines low in his throat, chest heaving as he lets his mammoth hands roam, clinging onto my body as I keep pumping his meaty cock languidly, feeling it soften slowly.

His voice is rough, as he agrees, "Y-Yeah... 'm only yours, luv."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #self shipping #cod #romantic f/o #simon riley #ghost

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dublinskeetz · 1 year ago

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could you maybe do a fic (don’t worry if you can’t 🫶🏼) with eli or bobby maybe enemies to lovers and the person is the band’s photographer or is on keys 🤍🤍

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞

hii ofc, i wasnt sure if u wanted a smau or written soo i sort of did both since the reader is their photographer, hope u like it!! this is my first tumblr fic so im still getting used to how to work the app lollll, sorry if u don't like it but pls give me ur thoughts so i can learn to improve JAJA

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘻 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺'𝘴 #1 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘻 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

yourusername

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername dropping these flicks in honor of my fav boys (and bobby ig) letting me join them on tour to take cute pics of them 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

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joshjenkinson_ WOOO after months of begging

yourusername a little begging doesnt hurt when i have to spend months with devils spawn joshjenkinson_ bobby loves u dw bobbyskeetz why do you automatically think shes talking about me bobbyskeetz and i do not

bobbyskeetz so thrilled to have you.

inhalerfan1 wtf why is she always hating on bobby he does nothing wrong to her!!! how about you leave and like never speak to him again.🙄🙄

inhalerfan2 saying this doesnt make bobby want u any more! bobbyskeetz how about you leave her alone? ryanmcmahon_15 aw look at u protecting her

elijahhewson the crowd erupts in cheers

yourusername by crowd u mean u, josh, and ryan LMAFO elijahhewson and bobby he just wont admit it

inhalerfan300 something abt the boys getting their pics taken by a sexy woman makes them even sexier tbh

liked by elijahhewson, ryanmcmahon_15 and 30 others

inhalerfan11 fuc the guys I WANT U

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"say, cheese!"

your lens shuttering was heard throughout the tour bus, trying to take candid, but not candid at the same time, pictures of the boys. tour was great, amazing even. you felt at peace when taking pictures of the band in their natural element. whether it be on stage, at a pub, or even just at time when it was just one on one hangouts. except, for bobby

bobby skeetz, you didn't know what you had done to make the boy dislike you from the moment he laid eyes on you. maybe it was your personality, the possibility to get on with everyone around you, happiness radiating off of you. or perhaps it was one night stand you had with him 4 years ago. but you chose to pick the former as the reason.

it didn't matter what you tried, his anger, regret, or whatever he felt never seemed to ease.

despite telling them to smile, bobby still had a grim look on his face, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but in front of you. rolling your eyes, you lowered your camera, dismissing the guys from the lens.

as the boys one by one retreated to their own areas, bobby stuck sitting in front of you as you placed your equipment away. you could feel his eyes watching you as you worked, and you found he often did this. though you could never force yourself to look back up at him, knowing his eyes would probably be full of dislike.

"is there something you need robert," you asked him, getting closer and closer to being fed up with his acts.

"no, just thinking."

"of?"

"why we would need another photographer when we already had lewis."

rolling you eyes, why do i even bother, thinking to yourself.

hiding behind a door was josh, ryan, and eli, silently watching the two of you interact. "i bet you they get together by the end of the tour," ryan spoke.

"oh you are so on McMahhon."

"dunno, maybe you should ask your mates. you didn't seem to complain too much when they asked me, repeatedly," you argued.

there was a thick tension in the air, these petty fights between the two of you were normal at this point, and despite your attempts to be professional, his pettiness was starting to get to you.

in reality, you didn't mind bobby at all, in fact, you felt a pull towards him. but ever since that mistake, that for some reason he can't seem to forget, he has made his presence unbareable.

"why must you make everything so difficult," you sighed, frustration evident in your tone as you continued to pack away your equipment.

"i'm not the one making things difficult, thats your speciality, isn't it," he snapped back. there was a mix of annoyance and indifference in his expression as he starred at you. "or maybe its the fact that you love to pretend nothing happened."

"what the hell are you talking about," you spoke, your patience so close to breaking.

bobby scoffed, "oh please, you know exactly what i'm talking about. four years ago when you left me!"

there was a heavy silence between the two of you, could he seriously be holding onto the past for that long? was this really the reason why he hated you so much? you can admit, you have your regrets on the way those things played out, but what were you supposed to do? act like sleeping with him didn't hurt you in ways you didn't even know you could hurt? the way he easily uttered those words to you, this doesn't mean anything, does it? it pained you, so really, what were you supposed to do?

but you were never really good with your emotions, so frustration bubbled inside you, "fine, you want to hold onto the past? go ahead, keating. but don't act like i'm the only one at fault here."

your heated exchange echoed throughout the bus, leaving an uncomfortable silence. but meanwhile, the other three boys exchanged knowing looks.

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yourusername

liked by elijahhewson and others

yourusername tours almost ova so heres some flicks to prepare u for the drought

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elijahhewson pay up ryan

ryanmcmahon_15 ITS NOT OVER YET SHUT UP yourusername meaning?? elijahhewson NOTHING ryanmcmahon_15 NOTHING

inhalerfan11 NOOOO

inhalerfan23 god i have seen what u have done for others

trumanblack come take some flicks for us?

elijahhewson no joshjenkinson_ no bobbyskeetz shes all yours mate ryanmcmahon_15 rob shut up before i leak some information that i find very important. bobbyskeetz YOU WOULD NEVER joshjenkinson_15 TRY US bobbyskeetz JOSH NOT YOU TOO yourusername OIII all of u. out my comment section

inhalerdublin twas an honor having u with us, and for the rest of the tours!🤗🤗

inhalerdublin whos us? yourusername robert get out

inhalerfan100 why do i get the gut sense that her and bobby do not like each other?

inhaler203 i dont think so, i was at their last shows and he complete heart eyes for her liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_ inhaler203 RYAN JOSH WHAT DO U KNOW inhaler100 their my enemies to lovers trope

oliviarodrigo im going on tour soon babes if u need a job😉😉

yourusername omg.

inhaler45 im living for this comment section

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throughout the remaining of the tour, there was an uncomfortable tension between you and bobby, and with the last dates coming up, you weren't sure if you wanted to come back.

but then again, you were confused.

after your last blow with the bassist, there was a peace between the two of you, if thats what you could even call it. he no longer took every opportunity to be petty, in fact, you hadn't spoken a word to the man since.

but you saw the tweets, the comments, and even noticed the other three members of the band acting funny when the two of you were in close proximity. the possible thought that bobby felt anything to you besides utter dislike, felt impossible.

the group of you were lounging around before the boys had to go onstage, and you could still feel bobby's eyes piercing at you from behind. despite the other's chatter, there was still an underlying discomfort from the two of you. his gaze lingered on you, and looking back towards him, you noticed there was a mixture of frustration and something else.

attempting to break the silence, you sighed in defeat, "what's wrong with you now, rob?"

there was a moment of hesitation on his part, jaw clenching, "it's nothing," he muttered, but his tone said otherwise.

"doesn't seem like it," you countered. you were tired of fighting with him, you just wanted peace for the remainder of the tour. "look, tour is almost over and can we at least try to-"

but he interrupted you before you could even finish, "try to what? pretend like everything is okay," his voice laced with bitterness, "like nothing happened?"

you sighed in defeat, feeling an oncoming argument brewing, "you cannot keep dwelling on the past rob," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice steady, "what happened was a mistake, for you," you emphasized, "and for me."

"a mistake," he scoffed, "you're acting like it meant nothing, like i meant nothing."

there was a clear tone of hurt and resentment in his voice, his words cutting deeper than you could've imagined, "that is not fair rob," you whispered, looking away from his eyes. trying to avoid his gaze, you noticed the room had cleared, the three boys' chatter no longer being background noise to your conversation.

those little shits.

bobby noticed your avoidance, "you just left, without a word," he continued, his voice filled with an ache that mirrored your own. "do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

the weight of his accusations hung heavily in the air, did he really have no idea of how much he hurt you too? how much you look back to that night and wish things were normal between the two of you.

"it wasn't easy for me either," you confessed, voice barley audible. "but what did you expect me to do? especially after what you said."

the atmosphere became thick with emotion, your unsaid words confusing him.

"what are you going on about?"

"really? 'this doesn't mean anything'," you scoffed, your hidden emotions rising to the surface, "do you know how heartbreaking those four words were? god, do you know how many nights i spent thinking about that. then here you come accusing me of being at fault."

his eyes softened at your confession, "i didn't know. you never said."

"i thought you knew," you cut him off, "i shouldn't have to tell you how harmful your words were."

"i didn't know," he spoke softly, getting up and standing in front of you, looking down at you into your eyes, "you could've told me. i would have been there for you.

"and what would have you done? hm?" you quipped as you looked away, anger and ache still inside your tone.

he softly grabbed your chin for you to look back up at him, "i would've told you how stupid i was, how scared. you have no idea how afraid i was of it ruining everything, and look at us now, look at what it's done to us. look at what my stupidity has done to us. i would've been there for you, through everything because i love you."

your breath hitched, utter surprise written all over your face, a small smile beginning to spread across your face, "i love you, and you aren't stupid. its just your pettiness," you spoke, trying to make the conversation lighter.

"oi, you're one to talk woman," he laughed, cupping your cheek to pull you into a kiss.

and as if it was right out of a corny soap opera, you heard a cheery whistle from the side of you. turning you were met with those three little shits with grins on their faces, well except eli, who looked completely defeated.

"as much as i am happy for the two of you coming to your senses," ryan began, turning to eli, "pay up, hewson."

eli groaned in frustration, pulling out cash from his pocket and placing it onto the ryan and josh's outstretched palms.

"you shits placed a bet on us?" bobby questioned.

"was an easy bet, after you drunkenly confessed your love to me a few nights before tour," josh explained to you two.

bobby's cheeks heated up, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "is that what your silly comments on my posts meant?" you asked the trio.

"uh, look at the time! c'mon keating, time to perform!"

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yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername that one AM lyric about looks of love or smth

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inhalerfan43 OHMYGODAD

inhalerfan111 THE HARDLAUNCH IM DYIGNAKE

bobbyskeetz this damaging my rep woman

yourusername k bobbyskeetz haha i was just kidding bobbyskeetz i love you elijahhewson robert keating has emotions??

inhalerfan23 ive lost the love of my life to a guy who plays bass...

yourusername he's dorky ways and sassiness has captivated me bobbyskeetz HEY

ryanmcmahon_15 WAR IS OVERRRR

inhalerfan2 hes one of us fr yourusername dont think i've forgotten abt ur little bet dipshit ryanmcmahon_15 uh.... liked by joshjenkinson_, elijahhewson and 80 others

bobbyskeetz my woman

yourusername ur so babygirl i love u

bobbyskeetz THE LOOK OF LOVE THE RUSH OF BLOOD, THE SHES WITH MES

joshjenkinson_ this was so worth him talking my ear off about u

bobbyskeetz OI

inhalerfan432 HIS LOVE STARE IN THE LAST PIC IM SOBBING

inhalerfan00 im soooo normal abt them ahhahahahahahah

inhalerfan12 shes one of us fr

yourusername oh fs inhalerfan12 HI MOTHER

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THE END

omg sooo lmk if u guys enjoyed this? pls i haven't written in so long so sorry it took be a bit to release this

also if theres any error in the format or anything i apologize cause im still getting used to writing on tumblr

lots of loveeeee <333

#robert keating x reader #bobby skeetz #bobby skeetz x reader #bobby skeetz imagine #inhaler #inhaler fic #inhaler imagine #enemies to lovers #fanfic #sunshine x grumpy #x reader

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