#and he's so curious yet so soft and tender when helping you through it

[merakiui]

i just want you to know that i think about alpha prince floyd everyday

:o thank you!!!!! I'm happy he lives rent-free. I also think about him from time to time. He is the sweetest alpha prince there ever was. <3

[calebrity]

father figure

sylus x female reader

he takes you in, he feeds you, he gives you a home when the world around you can no longer make sense of the word- and yet you’re just as much of a grounding force in his life. when the frenzy hits, though, he can’t make heads or tails of anything; all he knows is that you’re a pretty, fleshy thing and he aches to sample it.

content smut/nsfw, daddy kink, dilf/guardian! sylus, so by a stretch it can be pseudocest, noncon, soft! sylus but turns into frenzied! sylus, yandere themes, piv, rough handling, loss of virginity, some angst because of guilt/disillusion, codependency, age gap (but both parties are 18+), biting, dark content, almost 10k words

sidenote i could only resist the catch-22 sylus agenda for so long. it’s not fully canon compliant but its heavily based around it. so yes sylus has his iconic mullet and he’s a lil baby crashout in this. also no this isnt even the sylus bday fic i had in mind but if i dont get that one out in time then this will be the substitute 😣 anways, i hope u enjoy my friends <3

You don’t remember much, growing up. Beyond him, at least.

The world goes to shit with the predators and your parents fade out of the equation- and you’re left alone for much of your youth until an ominous man comes along and takes you under his wing— but only reluctantly.

For a while afterward, you think he still grudges you for the day you, in one way or another, managed to fall under his custody, becoming a knot in his neat web of plans and purposes. Deep down, you got the feeling that he didn’t need you as much as you did him; despite his choosing to keep you around, it was likely more out of guilt than any genuine affection- but you’d decided that was okay.

He saved your life, pulled you from the fire before you could really feel its burn, and you’d be the last to make complaint for your circumstances.

There’d be no circumstances if not for him.

But he tenderizes. It turns to be an open thing, his fondness.

He takes you in when you’re fifteen. Since then- throughout the course of around six years, he’s become softer. Less ambiguous to you. There’s things he keeps under wraps and always will despite the harmless pestering on your end (like questions regarding his work, the silhouettes that trail you both constantly— and the curious glances thrown to the blood on his collar after he returns late in the night). But he’s not longer as obscure to you, his person.

Trust blooms in the parts of you where an impoverished lifestyle of scraping by carved out gaps. And you’re used to hiding- that’s not much different now- but instead of diving for shady alleyways, you find refuge in him.

He’s dangerous. That was established early on; since the first moment you met him, really, knelt before him in fear after grabbing his pant leg for help (an action he mistook for a foolish attempt at pickpocketing), that was obvious.

He’s threatening.

Never to you. Not now.

Sylus is a man of impressive decorum and somehow all the blood coating his hands doesn’t take away from his class— he extends those hands to you, callouses and all, and gives you a patient look as if he’s expecting you to take them.

At sixteen you start calling him dad (more of an accident than anything else- it’s not a conscious thing that compels you to view him as something paternal).

He doesn’t object to it.

Things fall into place in weird ways.

When all the pieces settle, you find yourself looking at a semblance of a home— a safe place that the self-proclaimed beast curated with his own paws through painstaking efforts. (Whether you were fully cognizant of them or not didn’t matter: he tried his damnedest to be what you needed, and could only hope it was enough.)

The two of you are always on the move. He barges into your room panting at night and tells you to hurry and pack a bag, or just outright scoops you up in his arms and tucks you into the car’s backseat seconds before you hear the tires revving off. Your surroundings are perpetually changing around you and yet he remains the same; a citadel, a rock in your life.

Sylus provides an air of safety. Despite it all, the abrupt ‘field trips’ (at least, that’s what he called them when you were a bit younger) taken to ward enemies off your location, the bullets that fling by your periphery on furtive nights out and the red threads that coil behind him like talons- destroying anything before it can so much as harm a hair on your pretty head- you feel safe with him.

Predator or not- he’s good to you, a lighthouse fixed firmly amidst rolling smog and cyclones.

You can’t count a time he’s lost control or been unprepared for a frenzy, and he’s taken the proper precautions to keep you from him whenever he suspects one is coming on. The broken activator just solidifies his vigilance. And he’s instructed you plenty on what to do if he does lose it, God forbid, albeit your agreement to it was utterly uneasy.

He figures he’ll spare you the little horror show, he’d joked just to smooth out the worried crinkle in your brow.

Yet- Figures he’ll spare you your life, is what he doesn’t say, despite it being a shared thought between you both.

He teaches you how to wield a gun early on.

You’d told him you didn’t wanna use it, but something as trivial as guilt had no place in Linkon as it collapsed into decadence and carnal ruin. And something like sympathy, he’d also added, was stupid. An invitation to get yourself killed.

(Silly, that. Silly and hypocritical of the man who takes pity on runts.)

Conversation is kept at a minimum at first, and clipped, but he sprinkles in tips and tricks at self preservation— life hacks in the most literal sense— and he keeps an eye on you. Watching always. He makes sure you’re holding up well and even lets you hold down the fort while he’s gone doing God knows what. It feels like a privilege when he entrusts things to you, no matter how seemingly small.

Sylus is special to you. You love him as a teacher, a protector, a warm chest to snuggle up to on the sofa when you’re restless and can’t sleep but you know he’s downstairs with a cushion waiting—

You love him as a father, too.

Not everything about him is clear to you, though... You learn many things but one you have more difficulty understanding is the way he perceives you.

You don’t know if he loves you as a daughter, or a welcome nuisance, or a stray (because he has a penchant to root for the underdog). At first, you questioned if he even loved you at all.

But you’re older now,… and you see it, the heart he wears on his sleeve to bleed for you. He cares for you. And he’s there for you.

And when he asks you to leave with him- less of a hurried demand now and more of a gentle, imploring breath amidst chittering sounds of crickets and night bugs as he stands as a single shadow against your bed frame—

You take his hand.

✦

Boxes piled in every other corner, the building feels less like a home and more like a warehouse- a very tiny, cozy warehouse, with each of your scents intertwining in the unassuming spaces where you meet.

It’s no feat of architecture- just a small apartment nestled in the innards of the southern district, and it certainly isn’t a product of exorbitant spending (the place is deceptively… humble, for what Sylus can afford), but for what it is, you like it.

You’ve dwelled at several different addresses before, and you expect this arrangement will be more of the same. You stopped mourning over the loss of houses that could’ve been homes some time ago; you bounce between streets and domains like rabbits. However, there’s a strange comfort that builds in your chest as weeks pass and, for this reason or that, your guardian shows no signs of jilting the flat.

One day, he calls you to the living room after you’ve showered, and he sits you down.

You lie in a makeshift cage between his long legs as they hang over the couch, one hand smoothing over your damp hair while the other brushes it through.

He’s never in much of a hurry to speak, so when you reach for the TV remote to fill the silence, and he stops you- you concede to the quiet, knowing whatever he’ll say to break it will be worth some thought.

Still, he seems more contemplative than usual. It warrants pause on your end.

Internally, you consider your belongings- the deliberate choice you made to keep most of them boxed- and find relief in the fact that you’ll have less to pack if Sylus were to inform you right now of another move.

It’s a little sad, but it’s just the way things are. You won’t cry over the hand that you were dealt. If nothing else, you’re just thankful, what with the squeeze this city of sin has on its people, that somewhere along the way, Sylus came to loosen you from it.

You owe him. But he never names his price.

Long, rough fingertips meticulously weaving through your hair, gentle despite the callouses as he twists it into braids, you fall into the belief that he won’t.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but you can’t find much in you to debunk it save for the tiny, deep-rooted fear that one day you’d wake up, and- just like your parents on the day of outbreak- he’d be gone. There was plenty of doubts in your head, but most if not all were born from an old trauma, and Sylus seemed… content, weirdly enough, at your side.

It becomes an easier and easier thing to believe that’s where he’ll remain.

“Sweetie,” he eventually says, “I wanted to… discuss something, with you.”

You perk under his hands, spine straightening. You give him a sidelong glance over your shoulder and find his eyes, a sharp red, surprisingly mellow as they flit across the bridge of your nose, reading your expression carefully.

“What’s wrong?”

That (the instinctive response to believe something’s gone amiss) almost brings a wry smile to his lips, but he wets them a moment later and opens them to speak. “Nothing. Not this time,” he explains smoothly. “You… You’re used to moving around, the both of us are. I’m sure it’s been… tiring, at the best of times.”

“Well,” you start as a reply, but find your speech cropped short because you’ve no real way to deny that: it was exhausting. Of course it was. But wherever he went, you’d follow. That’s just how it’s always been.

Besides, if not fixed firmly at his side- you’d be choosing the hell that is overrun, lawless Linkon; to be tossed back into its maw for the predators or, if you’re more fortunate, a not as brutal death by starvation.

Noting your silence- your agreement- Sylus continues.

He ties off the end of the tuft with a colorful band and moves to work on the other, surprisingly deft. He’s only done your hair a million times- but still, his odd expertise in it was as surprising as it was endearing. The fact that you’re twenty-one now doesn’t change this common arrangement- or the mutual fondness the two of you have for it. You like when Sylus dries or does your hair, and evidently, he does too, for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s just therapeutic for him to feel something soft in his hands. He’s better acquainted with the opposite.

“So what if we were to stay?”

The words take a moment to click.

Because you don’t stay anywhere. You don’t stay, you just run and drive and hide. Live life perpetually on the down low. On the run.

Sylus does not settle.

Still, his voice, thoughtful and velvety, rumbles behind you in a continuous, comforting sound and forces you to take what he’s saying seriously.

“This place- you don’t dislike it, do you? It’s nice. Nothing gaudy or impressive. But it’s… homey,” he muses aloud. “Off the books. You’re safe here. Safer than what the other addresses had to offer, at least.”

You ponder it for all of five seconds before answering. And to be fair it’s not actually hard to; an inner part of you assumed you’d be on the move for all your life, but you’re weirdly pleased at the idea of… not being on the move for all your life.

Some anchorage sounds nice.

You tuck your head to your chest. “I… I think I would like that.”

He perks a bit. You feel it in his hands when they pause, done with their task, and one shifts to rest on your crown.

His knees, flanking either side of you, close in. Without thinking, you latch onto one’s calf and lean into it as you grab the remote. This time he lets you.

“Yeah?” He goes, a little breathless. “Are you sure? You realize it’d be a little more… permanent.”

“Okay.”

Sylus looses a sigh somewhere behind you.

“What I’m getting at is that you’re no longer a little squirt in desperate need of me,” he clarifies in a more pointed tone, and you resist arguing that- you have no time to, really, “so if you want to leave, you can feel free to. Don’t think you’re being shackled here by me.”

For as genuine as his words sound, you quickly cotton onto the expectancy that undercoats them- the mite of something that almost makes you believe he’s waiting for affirmation on your end. A rare thing. Usually it’s the other way around.

It pulls a huff from you, though. Peels of laughter rattle from the screen in front of you (he managed to unpack your TV, but as it stands, most of the house is still pretty bare) but you ignore your favorite show for the moment to turn and frown at him.

You grab his knee while you do, saying, “Of course I don’t think that. If anything, I feel like I’m holding you back.”

Scarlet eyes blink and widen, but just slightly. White hair falls over his brow (his locks loosening from gel after a long day) when he gives his head a tilt. After a beat, he laughs at you, a deep, rumbling sound- and pats your head directly after to fix the flustered knot in your brow.

“Well, I guess we’re both wrong then, hm?

He stoops forward to kiss your cheekbone- a chaste, quick thing- and then he gets up with a grunt to head for the hall.

You watch him with a strange flutter in your chest (one that you label affection; not a wrong guess but it also fails to fully encompass just what he means to you) and stare at the wall even as he disappears behind it.

But he calls over his broad shoulder to you, “Don’t sit too close to the screen, by the way. Someone tends to get headaches when watching cartoons.”

Crossing your arms with a pout, you lean your back into the seat of the couch and splay your legs out on the fluffy rug. You’re glad for that being unpacked, but quickly find yourself planning for the following days and all you’ll have to take out and assemble- which admittedly wasn’t much, but it was still enough to trigger your lazy streak.

Sometimes you just want to lounge around all day and do nothing: a fantasy that feels more possible after your guardian’s suggestion.

You holler back, “Oh, just go to sleep, old man.” Distantly, a door opens, but it doesn’t close.

He’ll be out later.

✦

He doesn’t come out later, contrary to your belief, but his open door does make a little more sense to you when it’s deep into the night and you emerge from your own room, scared, and traipse down the hall.

The remnants of a nightmare that felt too-real grip you. Five fingers on, they don’t let go.

But Sylus- the quasi foreboding man who took you in- knows how to pull you from a pinch.

You seek his warmth as the swath of wooden tiles cooling the balls of your feet blends into carpet- that of his bedroom- navigating in total darkness as you enter.

“Sylus-?” You can’t even get the word out before he startles upright and you hear the clink of something steely and dangerous—

“I-It’s me, daddy!” You assuage quickly, voice a frail, shaken sound that’s made even smaller by the dregs of a bad dream that still hangs fresh over your mind.

Even as the images peter out— claws wrapping around your throat, a dumpster rattling as you and other ragamuffins brawl over veritable trash as food, the roar of a predator as it holds you down, saliva dribbling into your ear— the emotions are harder to shake.

You feel dizzy and a little out of place as he lets out a deep sigh of relief, flicking on the lamplight, and blinks heavily at you.

The fingers that have dipped beneath the mattress retract and return to his lap. You observe it with a relaxing of your shoulders.

Some of the tension fades from him too, but not all of it.

He asks, concern entangled with gravely bits of exhaustion, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You say nothing, your own voice failing you as you mentally struggle to not only find your thoughts but string them together in a coherent way.

Everything around you was blurry. Felt unstable. A cold, clammy sweat licks up your palms and forehead. The ground beneath you grows a mouth and threatens to swallow you whole- the shadows in the corner ominous and great, watching.

Of course, it was only a nightmare, an unpleasant dream that you’d laugh about and forget easily enough come morning. But right now, it’s not. It’s vivid and horrifying and amalgamating into the atoms of reality to create a special kind of paranoia. It won’t let you sleep tonight.

…Not unless something’s there to hold you, at least.

Sylus’s own voice is groggy, a bit confused. Almost unthinkingly, though, he extends a hand to welcome you.

“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket and you’re instantly drawn to the empty space beside him.

You assume it with eagerness and all but barrel into his chest, punching out a grunt from him before he chuckles faintly, reaching over to pull on the thin, beaded chain. Darkness paints across your surroundings but a small highlight swims in cherry-red eyes as they soften at you.

Strong, lean arms wrap around you, helping you burrow into him without objection.

“Was it a nightmare?” He murmurs just above a whisper, voice warm but rough as the fluffy comforters, the same ones he tucks you both under, hug him back in. “Haven’t had one of those in a while, hm?”

He feels you jerkily nod under the dip of his chin and makes a sighing response. Callous finger pads close around your back and rub little circles there meant to soothe. “S’okay, kitten. It’s over now,” he breathes, languidly pecking your temple with open lips, smearing away the part of your fringe that’s been pasted there by a cold sweat.

He has this weird habit of taking you under his wing despite his serrated edges and the natural intensity of his stone face; right now, you curl up closer to his breast, finding a tenderness he perhaps only reserves for you, and he exhales overhead.

Fears are fast to flee, wrapped up by him. As moments pass, and your erratic heart rate resumes a more normal pace, you sound your gratitude in a low murmur. Vaguely, you wonder if you’d also stirred Sylus from a nightmare of his own upon stumbling into his room, because his own pulse- typically extremely slow- undulates in his sternum.

It thumps against your ear, creating a cadence almost considered fast. A touch uneven and a lot loud.

“…Thank you, daddy,” you mouth against him, nuzzling into his pajamas- a thin, linen shirt that oozes a domesticity you’re hard-pressed to come by.

Beneath your ear— a skip.

“For… for always being there for me.”

It sounds a little sappy, but in the moment, none of that phases you. Evidently- with a low, contented hum emanating from deep within his chest- it doesn’t phase Sylus, either.

You wonder if it’s your imagination or a real, bonafide smile that curves against your head.

“Well, that’s where I belong, isn’t it? At your side,” he murmurs, and after a beat you feel his lips press a kiss to your crown, mild but lingering. “And you belong at mine, if you want it. I’ll always be here for you, sweetie,” he promises, “no matter what.”

Finally, you let your eyes flutter shut.

✦

Weeks pass. They do so pleasantly; slowly, but not in a bad way.

The quiet- mainly the lack of wandering from point A to B all for the sake of anonymity- is a welcome reprieve. Some doubts linger surrounding the agreement you and Sylus came to, but it becomes a more solid idea in your head as days pass without interuption:

This can be home.

So you start acting like it.

When noon hits, you don’t go with Wolfe, Sylus’s most trusted contact, for the usual training session when he swings by- bidding him farewell with a small wave- but instead stay back to work on the house.

Noon comes and goes. The sky turns dusky and your belly howls for food but you pay none of it any mind, too engrossed to care.

Because this is exciting.

You decorate all throughout the day, unwrap furniture from cardboard and feel anticipation swell inside you. You sing and twirl.

Before Sylus returns, you buzz with excitement while picturing his face upon walking in- not to a barren space but to a cozy one- and the rare show of his surprise. It’ll probably be nothing beyond a flare of his eyes or a soft sound of acknowledgement, but you pine for it all the same.

You’d like to make him happy. To make him feel more comfortable, at home. Especially after a long day spent weaseling throughout the blind spots of the city. He’s only allowed so much time to kick off his shoes and relax, and you want to highlight those moments for him.

It’s the least you can do, you think with a small smile, stepping down from a stool to appraise a photo you just hung (one with his hand around your waist, pulling you to his side— a would-be perfect photo if not for the crow that blurs in the corner of the lens).

Focused, you stick your tongue out and square your fingers, closing one eye because that’ll definitely help you make a better judgement on whether or not the frame is straight enough—

It slants sharply when the front door opens and slams.

You jolt, ripped from your small trance as you spin your head towards the entryway, only an iota prepared to run for the hallway and bird dive into the closet- that’s if you even make it in time. Bullets will always be faster than your little legs and if you’re correct in your belief that it’s those shady men who hate Sylus, come to retaliate against him, then there’s no way they’ll deliberate and give you a chance to escape—

Sock-clad feet halt on the floor. The stop in momentum hurls your head inches beyond your axis of balance, but the figure that freezes in the threshold, familiar, tall but hunched over, somehow seems more surprised.

Not at the new touch-ups on the walls and the neat, embellished rooms- no, but at you.

Trudging into the apartment, he looks worse for wear and you take the sight of him in with a different, growing kind of alarm.

Your shoulders ease up, just slightly. It’s not an intruder, a pack of big, unscrupulous men barging in to avenge some grievance related to the assassin who took you in- which is relieving, but the concern is tight in your brow all the same.

When he speaks, his voice is ragged. Half man half animal.

“Sweetie- what are you-?” He cuts himself short to make a sound of displeasure that comes from deep within his throat. Raw, brutal.

“You shouldn’t be here-!” You give a little flinch in response to the ferocity in his tone, phlegm catching in his trachea before he looks down, shakes his head with a hard blink, and stomps into the bulwarks of the apartment.

“Dad, you-?”

Ignoring your startle (perhaps blind to it; you think his mind is on other, more inward matters as something wild glints in his eye- paired with a conflict that worsens with each heaving breath), Sylus grabs your wrist, and he does it tightly.

“There’s no time- I need you to hurry. Help me with my suppressants- now!”

Something clicks in you, then, a distant memory lighting itself from a foggy space of remembrance.

“And kitten, listen to me. If I ever… lose control,” he starts, words a gentle, almost resigned mumble against a backdrop of city sirens and a snarling engine as the car veers into a more secluded road. You stare at his profile with a flicker of unease. But he remains composed, saying as if it’s a topic as simple as the weather, “I need you to handle me,” he glances at you, gaze steady, a brilliant, solid red, even as your mouth opens to bluster out a denial of that possibility.

“But- your suppressants- We can use them—“

“Maybe,” he turns to look out the windshield, at the road ahead. Dust and debris scrape in the wind. Even for the southern district, the place was ratty, but this is where the deal was to be had, and Sylus needed those vials before morning. “But things don’t always go as planned, you know that, sweetie. So… If something ever fails, or I become immune to the dosages— I taught you how to shoot.”

“I- I wouldn’t shoot—!“

He snaps his head over and barks, fingers whiting around the wheel. “You would! You would and you will.”

Startled, your vision blurring despite the hand you close firmly over your breast- as if balling your emotions in your palm, holding them at bay- you swallow. Scarlet eyes ripple, irises dancing around a black orb as it shrinks and becomes frantic. Unease flutters in your chest as his cold instructions turn over in your mind- but for all his hammering of them into you- you don’t bite the hand that feeds. It’s just not in your nature.

You don’t even bite the hand if it asks you to.

Begs.

Noting your shock, the stunned expression that barely masks a confused kind of hurt, your guardian blinks. Sighs and looks away.

Exhaust blows out from the back of the vehicle; you catch it in dark tails from the rear view mirror, in whiffs as the air around you becomes sour and noxious.

“I taught you to shoot,” he says again after a beat. Softer, this time. “When it gets to the point where it really matters,… don’t let your daddy down, okay? Please, sweetie. Just… agree on this one thing.”

For once in a handful of years, not considered easy by any means- but enjoyable at his side- you stare at the man who took you in and find him cruel.

You dip your chin, more out of hurt than anything else, highly uncertain as dread contricts your lungs, and nod.

It does what it was meant for: It placates him. You think it even convinces him.

He’s putting all his faith in it, in that wordless assent you’d given him years ago, for the sake of the present.

Though, Sylus still thinks it’s manageable. That there’s still a shot that this frenzy- triggered by an enhancer after a gloved hand squeezed glass to the point of bleeding, vindictive and bent on getting the last laugh- can be resolved. So you hurry to lay him on the couch as his breathing picks up, scuttling towards his room before coming back with arms full of a briefcase.

You crash to the rug and prop the case on the coffee table, fishing out a syringe before sidling up to him and taking his arm.

With some resistance- and a grunt that sounds more wolfish than man- he lets you, and you line up the needle with his arm. You say a curse under your breath when tears smear across your lids and make fuzzy the room around you.

“Hurry,” he rasps.

Shakily, you dig at the crook of his arm with your thumb to plump up the vein before- with little coordination- you feed the needle in with a sharp breath.

It mingles with Sylus’s as he makes an uncomfortable noise, the glittery fluid disemboguing into his bloodstream.

Split seconds feels like eons.

Time moves slow as molasses and you chew on your lip until something like metal sours your tongue.

Between fingers that tremble wildly just to keep it inside him, steadily injecting him with the suppressant, and a heart that pounds with uncertainty in your ears— given no assurance whatsoever that you’re not too late to pacify him— you don’t realize all the gawking on his part.

The ardency in his gaze, fleetingly tender, as it remains fixed to you. Some unspoken battle happening behind it.

…The darker thing, with a name you can’t assign, is winning out.

He feels it, too; conscious thought lending itself to his baser person— instincts, ugly and primal and overwhelming— all against his will.

“You were supposed to be with Wolfe,” He forces out with great difficulty, sweat beading his temple. He’s hot to the touch, skin like a kiln, baking your fingertips as they hover over him.

Light as feathers, you still feel the burn.

“I would’ve never came.”

Thickly, you swallow, rubbing his forearm soothingly even as the veins there bulge and glow, putting a fright in you that you do well to ignore.

He needs you right now. He needs you and you won’t fail him.

“Shh, shh,” you hush, folding your upper half over the sofa to plant your head against his shoulder.

One hand, between your bodies, gradually plies him with the suppressant; the other slips to the nape of his neck and intwines with his mullet, tugging softly.

He lets out a soft sound at that, temporarily appeased.

“It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay.”

You need it to be true.

For what it’s worth, he does seem just a touch comforted by that.

It’s not lasting.

He’s dangerous, and he knows. He’s losing out to the predator instinct, and he knows and he’s terrified but he remains rigid. Has to.

“I want you to inject all of it into my veins,” a sonorous voice rings at your ear, dry, open lips moving against your head as he smushes a kiss there. You think it’s more subconscious a move than anything as the cognizant trace in him fades out, albeit you still appreciate it.

A large hand, hanging off the couch- shaking not because it’s weak but because it’s trying its best to be- shifts to rest over your back.

He continues, “And then I want you to leave me. If we’re lucky, I’ll pass out and ride it through that way…”

Clenching your jaw, you nod against his neck, under his chin, and bite down on a whimper.

“You’ll be okay, daddy. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be all better. The suppressants w-will make you sleepy, and—“

Something surges in him, then, a growl cutting through your eardrums as you flinch back and he- before the second little vial even reaches the halfway tick- knocks it from your hands.

It collides with the coffee table and shatters.

The rug- the fluffy one you’d happily picked out with him some months back- darkens with a splotch you can’t easily scrub out.

Like an animal in a cage he’s revolted. You’re not naive enough to not see the movement for what it is; no matter how watered down, it’s still a version of it: a beast lunging.

Whatever’s left of his conscience is just barely barring that monster off, but as you fall back on your ass and gape at him, you realize with horror he will not turn out as the victor.

Fear brews in your belly. Butterflies swarm the pit of it, leaving nausea in the wake of their wings as they make quick work of your bravery- or the pretense you held of it.

A drop of blood pricks from the crook of his arm, the syringe made useless as it lay broken on the carpet: you watch it with shock, numbness almost, before looking up to him.

He forces himself to go recumbent, five fingers splayed over his face. The gaps in them, though, reveal grimacing, pearly teeth.

Canines bared no different than a hungry predator, defensive and bold.

Unlike you, very real in their display.

For a number of seconds, you do not breathe. Eyes wide and scared.

“Go,” he croaks out after a moment.

It takes longer than it should to register.

When it does, you gasp as if stirred from a bad dream. It’s precious- the sign he gives that he’s still in control- and you don’t take it for granted. You rise to wobbling knees, frenetically glancing between the dazzling shards and his heaving chest.

You extend a cautionary, worried hand, something in you utterly wrecked at the sight of him- your savior, your shield, your father figure- crumpled in on himself.

“Daddy—“

“Go!”

Silence strobes across the living room, but just for a second. It bites into you where it settles.

Unthinkingly, you turn. His words and their grating tone cut better than any knife ever could. Tears clinging to your lashes, you steel your legs (because they’re gelatinous beneath you), whip around, and start for the front door.

You don’t know where you’ll go apart from Sylus tonight, but that’s all to be figured out later after you calm your nerves down a bit and convince yourself it’ll all be fine—

The couch groans atop its wooden frame.

Suddenly, a hand snatches around your wrist, scorching hot, and when you swirl around, his head is bowed.

A whit of hope strings you along—

“D-Dad?” You breathe, “Are you okay now?”

Scarlet eyes peer up from a silvery curtain of hair, aflame, near glowing, and you let out a gasp.

—And drops you.

“I thought you wanted to help little old me? So…” he muses darkly, “where are you going?”

The reality of your situation takes a second to catch up to you.

Something that can accurately be called fear clamps in your chest— not for what he could be but for what he is now. Some change has happened in him, some sickness taken root, and until it passes, you’ll be victim to the beast that wears your savior’s face.

Stunned, you listen. “Has your father ever left you hanging? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same?”

“Sylus-“

He tuts, a belittling sound. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. C’mere, kitten, sit.” Long fingers entwine around your wrist and you’re reminded of wolf paws trampling over twigs in forests. It’s not unbearably tight a grip, not yet, at least, but he’s certainly applying more pressure than what he generally does.

You wet your dry lip, dread wringing you from the inside out. You feel oddly parched.

“But Sylus- you’re not-“

“Sit,” he suddenly growls, something undeniably dark glittering in his eye.

You’re without opportunity to argue or even try to reason with him, because he yanks you into his lap and loops his arms around your middle.

You liken yourself to a bird in a cage. His limbs your bars and your soft sounds of fear like twittering.

Using the last of your rational thought- your brain losing ground to fight or flight instinct- you try to think back to his instructions (funereal as they were), but find yourself creating other options. Even if you did want to shoot Sylus like he’d made you promise all those years ago, it’s not like you’ve got a gun lying around for it… No, the one he gave you (the one you keep as a token of him, like a locket) is sandwiched between your mattress and its framework.

A-And that’s where it’ll stay. No matter what.

Because you don’t bite the hand that feeds. You don’t bite the hand that feeds even after it pleads to be.

You decide, right then, that it’s better to play dead.

Sat perfectly still in his lap, your plan succeeds for all of half a minute before a hitch appears. To begin with, it was one born out of desperation, with low expectancy- but damn it all you still flinch when you become aware of his teeth and your proximity to them.

Fangs brush against your throat, uncomfortably sharp. It raises alarm in you, but it’s quickly lost in the other warning bells clanging in your skull.

You shiver. To your horror, Sylus chuckles.

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?” He murmurs, breath searing your neck where it fans against it. It’s labored and fast; the depravity amplified against your earlobe.

Somewhere in you, you find the courage to answer. “A- A little,” you feebly admit. “I couldn’t get all the suppresants in.”

Sylus hums, low and satisfied, but you don’t quite miss the undercurrent of decadence in it- as much as you might want to.

“Good,” he quips. “Frenzies feel so much better without the pushback. You shouldn’t have injected any in me in the first place.”

“But you said-“

“It’s in my DNA to want to bite. It’s a little cruel to keep me from that… don’t you think?”

A debate happens within you, short-lived but tumultuous. You deliberate on answering because really, how can you? What is there to say that can temper him when he’s like this? A predator in the flesh.

And the thing about predators is that, somewhere in the equation, there must be prey—

But no. No- you refuse to believe he’ll succumb to that animalism, not when he’s more or less like blood to you. Your trust for him runs as thick as it, anyway. Blood is thicker than water, and poison, too- so the toxic lilt in his voice means nothing. Nothing at all.

You swallow, unable to offer any real reply. “I- I-“

“No,” he snips, a palm drifting lower. Positively impatient. Ever the obliging, albeit sometimes brusque man, the Sylus you know is nowhere to be found.

“Tell daddy what you really think of him. Think he’s a monster, don’t you?”

Finally, he nips at your neck, cutting himself loose from the self restraint he stubbornly moored himself to, groaning at the softness. Seamlessly, he suckles a hickey into your throat and you mewl.

The single thread of whatever the hell it is that’s keeping him at bay- his buried conscience, perhaps- snaps.

He makes a hot, ferocious sound, pawing at your breast now, drawing a startled yelp from you that his gums throb at. “Should he act accordingly? Hm? Use your words, kitten.”

Words? No. No, you think actions would suit you better- he’s not in his right mind right now and you need to leave like he’d ordered before your image of him, the one you’d put on a precious pedestal, collapses.

Daringly, you get up to try and bolt out again, mind single as your eyes dart to the front door.

If you can just leave the apartment, maybe you can lose him in the weaving, shady paths that are labyrinthine Linkon. Surely, he’ll find someone else, someone deserving (culpable men are not hard to come by here), and make them his glorified plaything instead.

By the time the sun rises, he’ll have woken from this awful, twisted trance—

He lets out a roar, angrily snatching you back onto the couch.

This time, though, there’s no semblance of freedom as he pins you under him, hovering close enough to bump his long nose against yours as he grips your hips tight enough to bruise.

“Nawh, you wound me, sweetie… And here I thought…” he rasps, ruby eyes glossing as the lid droops, blatantly ogling your jostling breast, “You had daddy’s better interest in mind.”

That’s unclear. But yours? Your better interest?

There it is again- blitzing across your frazzled conscience, stark against the dreadful haze: Play dead.

You do.

The blow will come, that’s definite. But if you play your cards right, maybe, a small hope in the back of your head says, you can lessen it.

You go limp beneath him and his hands. Even as they grope your tits through your shirt before he quickly foregoes that charade in favor of ripping open the collar, you remain still. You clamp your eyes shut and bite down on a pathetic sound.

Each and every one of your intentions evade riling him up, and yet your mere presence, pliant but shivering beneath him, does a good enough job at that on its own.

Still, as his energy builds into a devastating force, you’re quietly thankful for the amount you did manage to get in with the syringe. Likely, you realize with a heavy swoop of your heart, the determining factor in your life.

H-How much was it again-? Two vials? Or a vial and a half-?

Briefly, you glance over to the table where the case lay, open but half empty, and contemplate something stupid before the man- beast- above you laughs. Asserts himself in your face.

He’s all you see when he says, “I guess you don’t have your better interest in mind, either. Hm, kitten?”

And you’re all he smells, feels, knows, as he ruts his clothed cock against your thigh and you feel the swollen bulge. You shiver again. He’s really, really hard and is he actually planning to fuck you with that-?

You?

The pleasured, but not close to satisfied, grunt he makes says yes. Yes, absolutely he’s going to fuck you.

Rip off your panties after uncivilly pulling off your shorts and stuff his flushed length inside with a—

—“Fuck, kitty!”

He’s met with resistance.

And you forget your plan completely, terror taking over entirely as you begin to wriggle and plead for him to hold off, to reconsider— you’re a virgin and he’s mean and given your relationship, you two were never supposed to end up parallel to one another on the couch, desire brewing between your naked bodies. Well, you’re naked- or growingly; but Sylus isn’t.

Scraps of leather cling to sturdy, lean muscle, but he’s broiling in them still, skin licked with sweat. Evidently, heat has fried his neurons- his memory of himself- too.

“Please, daddy, I- I’ll—“

Oh, break. You’ll one hundred percent break but you keep from saying it aloud because you suspect it’ll warm his blood all the more. A correct guess, but it’s a little late for taking back what you did say. Sylus cottons onto it and groans.

“Don’t do this, Sylus,” you try to remind him of who he really is, even if your voice is small and untrustworthy. “Y-You don’t have to. J-Just remember who you are- who I am!”

His precious girl.

Once, he’d even said, his treasure.

Your heart stings.

Taking out the engorged, weeping head of him and rubbing it at your mostly-dry entrance (in hopes to prime it after failing to push his way inside), he’s hardly lucid as you babble.

Cute… But unimportant, he decides.

…Yet, he does somehow find it in him to look up, and you do find a trace of… something in him, human-like and guilty, when he does. It’s quicksilver. Gone when you blink.

Your pussy lips try to spit him out but it just works him up further.

The darkness in his gaze returns in tenfold.

He manages a scoff. “Oh, c’mon. Of course I remember~ You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?” He hums meanly, suddenly immune to the wide, kicked look you send him. It’s always done wonders on him before, but you’re met with failure.

“So how come you can’t take his cock? I know you could, if you just tried a little harder. Relaaax. Ease up. From now on, someone’s gonna have to be the calm one between us when I get into my frenzies. You can be that, right?” That sentence instills dismay in you for many reasons, but you have no time to think on them.

He husks, “Now, go on. Help guide me in.”

You don’t reach a hand down between you two like perhaps he wanted, but you do hear a faint squelch right then as he cants his hips forward an inch, and it does make you gasp. Despite yourself, you slick up for him- for God knows what reason, maybe just as self preservation or some deeper, pitiful attempt to please him- and it becomes obvious.

Sylus notes it with a shaky breath that blends with his other labored, ragged ones, and a grin that’d better suit a bastard.

He delves inside, by a small miracle, but you can’t stop from crying when he reaches halfway in and blood rings around the thick base of him. Inwardly, you try to separate the sin from the face, telling yourself between strained breaths that he’s not in control, that this frightening, terribly unfamiliar side isn’t the real him.

You whimper more when you realize you’ll be squinting at him for months to come, losing sleep over the question of, was he helpless to the beast, or hiding it in him all along? Was he a mere victim to the predator instinct forced onto him? or willfully steering it—?

No. No. Because he’s like blood to you. And blood is thicker than water, and poison, and the niggling doubts you feed on until gluttony.

“I-It hurts,” you try when he bottoms out with a resounding groan. Shameless and frenetic. He stoops over you after pressing your legs all the way back to the couch, rough as he purrs in your ear.

“You say it hurts, but your pussy just squeezes tighter around me… So you’d understand why I’d be getting mixed reactions, don’t you?”

He whispers. For the second documented time, you find Sylus cruel. Very, painfully, cruel.

It’s hard to argue with him, even when you know he’s wrong. You think if he was more awake right now, more him, then he’d side with you as well. And yet he’s completely untrustworthy right now, morally black and mean. So, so mean.

That devilish smirk on his blissed-out face might bring on an even sharper sting than his cock as it spears inside you and starts a brutal pace.

Well.

Not quite.

Your eyes flare. So do his, want and pure, unadulterated need zipping between your bodies as his perspiration dribbles onto your collar. He hangs his head into your shoulder and you feel droplets slip between the valley of your breast.

It doesn’t take long for the heat to feel sweltering; sweat running like the Nile between you both.

“Silly little bird. You just- hah, fuck- have no clue, do you? How tempting you are?”

You ignore it all because it’s better to. Maybe ignorance won’t shield you from his hands as they clench around the fat of your hips, but it’ll certainly help you later on down the line when you want to forget and are thankful for the kickstart.

You try to focus on the ceiling, but even that blurs behind him when he leans back some just to stare, moaning at what he sees.

Even beasts can appreciate beauty, he distantly observes.

Those eyes on you, not gentle per usual (albeit sometimes tinged with a harmless tease) but ravenous and sharp- are even harder to ignore. You can’t stop your hands from lifting to push at his face to try to block him out.

All for naught, of course.

With a choked moan, he chuckles. “Ugh- look at you. These little hands keep swatting at me, even though your face is full of pleasure. Fuck,” he curses, his face handsome but a bit unnerving as it dons a more perverted look, eyes half closed, “You feel…. good. I always knew you would.”

No. No. Shut up, shut up—

“You wanna be good for your daddy?”

Yes.

Not like this.

He gathers your unruly hands and cuffs them above your head. “Then lie down and take it. If it hurts as much as you pretend, I’m sure it’ll… feel better that way, if you give in.”

There’s a very small window in between Sylus hovering over you and then Sylus dipping down to bite the fleshy bit between your neck and shoulder: in it, there’s no time to prepare.

Ice tingles in your veins, shock stealing your breath.

It’s the pain, first dull and uncomfortable as his teeth sink in, but then quickly all-consuming, that helps you find the scream.

The scream— a small, broken cry.

It doesn’t make much noise, not enough for any possible neighbors to hear- in Linkon, none would even bat an eye to it, anyway- but he covers your mouth regardless. He eats up the pathetic sounds with rough lips and hungry groans.

You don’t know how much blood he’s drawn, but there’s a little on his teeth that he makes you taste.

“Ngh, you’re delicious,” he heaves after a break. Saliva connects you both in a fleeting strand. “I’m sure your pussy tastes even better- but kitten, I really don’t have the time right now to try it. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” He chuckles in your ear. You know he does not care for the answer. It’s deep and mean-spirited.

This side of Sylus- this rotten caricature of the man who took you in— All the hurt for it turns to loathing.

“For later,” he decides after a beat, resolved as he ignores your sneer.

You’re used to ambition on his end, but not greed: right now, his goals gravitate more towards selfishness than anything else.

All of it nears its end and quickly.

As he ruts into you, though, frenzied thrusts reaching their mark with loud grunts, it feels more gradual for you… Painfully slow. Seconds might as well be minutes, or hours, even.

It’s feral, the glint in his eye as he reshapes your walls to fit the outline of his massive cock, your virgin pussy spasming around him. Responsively, he gives a twitch, and you swear you feel his balls jump when he pauses- just for a moment- and they rest above your ass.

Sylus looks down at you, breathless and wild, and you shake at the lack of familiarity in his gaze. Ruby red eyes survey you almost frantically, with one intent only- to fuck you within an inch of your life, undoubtedly. Full of need. It’s a bottomless gaze. You think right then that you can’t give him what he wants because he’ll always be left wanting for more.

You’re not an ocean— if he reaches his hand in, he’ll inevitably reach the bottom but that clearly doesn’t stop him from trying to pull everything from out of you anyway.

It scares you. You feel small, mouse-like, but when he snatches your jaw into a sultry kiss, all canines and spit, you realize that even amidst the tumult of his predator state, you still mean something to him.

You’re all he sees. Feels. Understands to want for.

He burns inside you, the juncture of your thighs becoming sticky, gross. He ploughs inside without care for it, chasing his end and choking out moans along the way.

He coaxes some out of you, too.

Maybe it’s out of fear but you suckle on his tongue experimentally and he shakes, damp skin shivering under your finger pads as you dig them into his forearm.

Maybe you can’t play dead, but if all else fails, you can still play nice.

That’s in your best interest.

“F-uck, sweet thing, you’re gonna make me-“ a primal noise rips through his chest and rings in your ears. He lowers himself to your neck again and suckles at the orbs of blood that prick at the surface, lapping away at the small mess he made.

You wonder if after all this is over, you’ll be able to pretend it was just a love-bite, a hickey or something minor. Healable. Something able to be forgiven. Even if that would also be hard to reconcile with, considering you’d never thought he do something like this to you, the precious girl he’d flip Linkon upside down for—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He’s classy, but not now. Cursing up a storm at your clavicle and pounding into you without thought, blunt nails embedding into your hips. Aching to brand himself wherever he can.

There’s no ceremony to it all (though there is a build-up, his pelvis quickening but stuttering against the underside of your bent thighs) when he comes.

He shouts and you scream, holding onto him for dear life as a torrent of something hot and thick floods you. Your legs shake, poor cunt desperately trying to push its intruder out but it flutters when he throbs inside you and quivers. A wisp of pleasure paralyzes you- it’s so good.

Warmth trickles between you; all along the seam of you when he withdraws until only the tip remains, his cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused.

You let your head bounce against the cushion when he slides it all out with a wet ‘pop’, squeezing your eyes shut in shame. But relief joins it, too, your jaw (that had went slack only to howl with delight) closing as you catch your breath.

It’s done. It’s over. You went through the hard part and now you just have to wait the aftershocks of it out until morning, when you’ll finally be given the chance to recuperate and forget the monster your daddy was acting the night before—

Something thick, straightening back to life, nudges at your sopping hole again as it clenches around nothing. Your eyes snap open.

A large, callous palm holds you down, bracing you by the collarbone. He tuts, leaning over you with a dazed but wholly vicious grin.

Far from satiated.

“Ah-ah, kitten. It’s a little early to tap out, isn’t it? I’m far from done with you.”

He drives himself back home, slamming into you with a moan you brokenly mirror.

✦

Morning birds tweet outside the window. Bickering back and forth to one another.

The sheer curtains glow with sunlight as the onset of dawn makes its way in. Rays of it slur together in blocks on the floor.

Sylus’s room, you realize groggily. Not the living room with its new sofa stained with sweat and sex or the rug with its shattered, neon vials.

A strong arm holds lazily to your waist. Warm breath at your ear tickles you into slight wakefulness. The body slotted behind yours isn’t scorching hot like your nerve endings remember, though, almost flinching in response, and his sounds aren’t ragged. No, it’s…

Peaceful.

The events of the evening before come back to you in increments.

Your mind, with the natural want to protect you, chalks it all up to a bad dream.

The ache between your sticky legs and the fat cockhead that sits limply above the cleft of your ass- appeased- says otherwise.

You let out a soft gasp. The man behind you grumbles out a low, noncommittal sound before his lashes flutter over the blade of your shoulder.

“…Baby? What’s wrong?”

He untucks himself from there and is given great pause when his nakedness- and yours- clicks. His limbs harden around you— horrified and confused as every fresh memory from last night comes barreling into him as well.

Stunned, he lifts his head from its perch at your shoulder, but his hand remains above your hip, feather light and hesitant.

Wearily, you turn to meet him when his other hand gently steers your chin to look his way.

He looks tired. Fucking exhausted, the fine wrinkles in his face emphasized under the weight of the night prior. He looks—

Devastated.

“You-…” A sharp, shallow breath beats from his chest. His eyes, wide and unsteady, flit between yours, searching desperately for something he can’t quite find or recognize as you wet your lip to speak.

“Yesterday, I… Started decorating the house. I was excited to show you,” you say without really knowing why. Sylus’s shoulders sag ever so slightly at your apparent calmness, but the fear in his eye remains as he surveys the bruises- all the discoloration in your otherwise supple skin- and blinks.

You inhale shakily, looking down to his chest and all its striations, put on full display in the afterglow of what transpired however many hours before.

It feels wrong to call it a night of love-making, or even a term more raw, unfeeling, as sex. No, it was…

He fucked you within an inch of your life and that was all you really knew. He fucked you until you passed out and then sometime afterwards, apparently snapped out of his trance just enough to carry you back to his bed and sleep the remnant of his frenzy through.

But it wasn’t his fault. Couldn’t have been.

(Whose, then?)

You murmur, “I should’ve went with Wolfe.”

“No,” and there it is again, that fucking snarl, searing you through to the core but before panic can settle, he’s cradling your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours.

His eyes are intense, but not scary. No, they’re tender and beaten and lovely as his chest shudders and he shakes his head. “No, sweetie. What happened…” he starts, just as unsure of how to label it, “had nothing to do with you. Don’t ever blame it on yourself. Do you understand?”

Blearily, you nod.

You see him in double when he sighs and carefully thumbs away a tear you didn’t realize had formed and fell.

…But Sylus appears a mite uncertain with himself when his eyes fall to your breast before quickly averting, self aware to the point of near pain and definite discomfort. “I’ll clean us up,” he ventures, glancing at you again.

For permission, you realize. To scoop your jelly limbs up and carry you to the shower, bridal-style, where he’ll wash the both of you naked, intimate and-

And should-be alarming.

But it’s not. Not now when you’re still dazed and bruised and his dried cum is caked to your thighs in white rivulets- and he’s just as wounded, but ready to fix. Ready to repaint over the peeling bits of you both in the aftermath of it all. Hang a picture over the hole in the wall of your heart.

“…Okay.”

He wastes no time in picking you up, but he’s gentler than ever when he takes you with him to the bathroom adjoined to his room. It’s awkward: you note that even in the bone-deep fatigue. You can tell he’s trying not to look at all the places instinct tells him he should, and you do well to blot out the sight (and memory) of his softened cock as it dangles between his legs.

The shower starts. Sylus keeps you upright so you don’t fall because your joints will literally fail you otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” he laments as the water pours overhead, holding you against him. He means it in more ways than one. And yet, before you can voice your acknowledgement, and an unsure forgiveness, a small hope stirring in your gut that says this can be moved on from—

His lips press to yours. Chaste but searing; somehow even more world-shattering than last night.

It’s different. He’s… awake.

Jaw slack, you blink at him, water clumping your lashes both. He’s as handsome as a wolf is hungry but- for the moment- domesticated. Even his crow’s feet seem to soften.

“I’ll help you unpack the rest today,” is all he says as he reaches behind you for the soap, gaze unwavering even as you latch onto him and your perfect tits jiggle, his hand dipping below to carefully lather at your marks.

“This house can still be a home. I’ll show you.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆�� ♡

[screampied]

ok hear me out toji is always rough and somehow mean when you fuck, but something happens to you (you can decide what) and he turns really soft and gentle for one night. just one.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji being soft with you for once

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom toji, praise, missionary, talking you through it, mdni.

being in bed with toji, he’s usually almost always rough and degrading. it’s something he’s mostly used to, however there’d be a specific time where he’d have to change things up . . . just for you.

he’d notice something’s wrong the minute he’s about to align himself again. you’re awfully quiet underneath him as you awaited and he’s well aware of how you keep avoiding his stoic gaze. “hm,” he’d ponder aloud with a mere natural pout. toji grabs ahold of your chin before softly stroking it with his thumb, making you stare right into his green curious irises. “something’s wrong. talk to me, babygirl.”

“nothing’s wrong, you can finish—”

“something’s wrong,” he repeats, his voice is a bit more stern yet it’s still gentle. he slows down and brings a thumb towards your cheek to lightly stroke it. “you’re avoiding eye contact,” he points out, still inside you yet he brings his hips to an abrupt pause. toji’s panting yet he takes a moment to breathe. “you can talk to me, y’know.”

you briefly meet his dark pupils before letting off a low exhale. “i . . had a bad day,” and then as he’s hovering over your body, you slowly drag out your final breathy words in a sheepish, “can you—can you hold my hand?”

“aw,” he teases, grabbing your hand before intertwining his thick stubby fingers with yours. his touch was so safe, so warm, so gentle. his thumb strokes against the back of your hand before he holds onto your hip with another. “want a head pat too, sweetheart?”

“s-shut up,” you moan, feeling the tip of his dick prof against your entrance. he wasn’t exactly moving but you still felt him. your ankle runs against toji’s back and he’s so close to you that you could smell the strong aroma of alcohol and mint linger on his breath. toji’s now softened gaze never leaves you and his kittenish eyes ease up soothingly. “just go slow ‘n hold my hand, toji.”

“so sensitive today,” he purrs, leaning to kiss the top of your forehead. it was something about his voice—the way he spoke to you currently, it was just so smooth. his eyes that were known to always be cruel and intimidating palliate just at the sight of you— the sight of his pretty girl underneath him, asking for a simple request to hold her hand. “. . mwah,” and the moment his lips brush against your skin, you let off a soft whine. “i’ll go niiice ‘n slow for you, yeah.”

once he finally picks up his pace again, he’s so gentle with you. the grip on your hand tightens a bit and you moan.

you’re always used to toji being so rough in bed, manhandling you and all—alas, you never exactly minded of course, but a change of pace like this was strikingly nice.

his stumpy fingers strum against yours before you feel his hips gradually move again. “t-toooji,” you whine out, watching as he kisses near your neck. so benign, so tender. toji was always familiar with every inch of your body. he knew the layout of your body as if it was an apartment. he always knew where to go, your weakest and most sensitive spots— forever engraved into his mind. with your eyes starting to roll back, you squeal out a shaky, “i l-love you.”

“cock drunk already?” he fake pouts, a smile curling against his lips before he slowly starts to thrust into you. the moans that left your mouth were incredibly melodic, a mere harmony he was listening to. toji couldn’t help but grin at your sweet words of whimpers of how much you loved him, losing yourself completely on his cock. “but i love you more, princess,” and he feels your ankle scrape further down his tense back muscles. a rigorous surge of wind forcefully plucks from your lungs and you struggle to suppress your own whines. so good, so thick. toji squeezes your hand tightly, giving your forehead another chaste kiss. “how’s it feel? ‘s slow enough for you, baby?”

“good, y—yes, ‘toj,” you whimper, both hands throwing around his broad neck, over his high rising shoulders. he was merely nude, only wearing a white tee to follow. the chain that was wrapped around his neck dangles against your face every so often and you mewl out a sweet desperate sob for more. “touch me more toji, p-please. touch me.”

he snickers. “oh. am i not touchin’ you?”

you pout and he’s enjoying your brief irritation. whenever you were getting frustrated—you always had such cute expressions, especially when your lip frowns up or your eyebrows twitch to show your sheer vex. with a sigh, you grumble, “kiss me, toji. i want a kiss.”

“you . . want a kiss?” he softly coos, his voice was as smooth as silk. so sweet, deliciously candied with each word he pronounces at you. the rasp underneath his tone only made you throb for an even longer time. with an eyebrow raise, toji accelerates his hips before he feels your gummy walls stretch out perfectly. you were so good for him, so fucking good. his cock rummages inside of you to where your eyes were merely reaching the sockets. until all you saw was nothing but black, an entire void of straight nothingness. as your eyes remain stuck back into the very depths of your cranium, he’s always loved looking at your dramatic expressions—especially whenever he was on top of you. “say please. ‘m bein’ soft for right now but don’t forget those manners i taught ya, sweetheart.”

you sigh again and he slyly smiles at your sheer frustration.

“. . pleaseee,” you whine out, dragging your nails down his back. by now, you were sure his back was coated with a few marks from your pointed fingertips. the way your bottom lip pokes out once you pout yet again was so adorable. “kiss me toji, please.”

“anything for the pretty girl,” he murmurs in a soft voice, bringing a rough hand to cup the right side of your face. his pace was just so tantalizingly slow, emitting out all types of whiney moans from your lips. toji leans in and the moment his lips press against yours, you whimper. he’s stuffing you full of inches in the meantime — feeling the way your walls adjust and constrict around him. as both lips are moving in rhythmic tavern, you legs squeeze around his slim jerking waist.

toji’s always been fond of your taste, so glacé. his tongue runs against your bottom lip, tasting your sweet lip gloss before he grunts into your mouth.

thick heavy balls slowly pound into you and his pace was so salaciously relentless that it welts out all kinds of squelches directly from your cunt.

“f-fuuck,” he groans, each pivot he creates only grows more rapid and sloppy. he’s so thorough, the angle makes you whimper into his mouth before you compress around his length tighter. he’s so close up to you, the warmth of his body colliding up against yours makes you throb more. toji’s speaking in between kisses — a string of spit departs each time he leaves, swiping his tongue against your lip before after about a nth amount of kisses later, he finally breaks away. “aw. did i love you too hard, princess? you look a little out of breath.”

“s—shut up,” you moan, clinging onto his back even tighter. he was right though, your lungs were strained and you were panting heavily, heaving. the wind gets yanked out of your throat before you slump back against the bed. “gonna c-cum, toji. gonna cum,” and then you meet his softly coy gaze— he returns the eye contact before you see a bit of tenderness in his dark irises. “please, please let me cum, ‘toj. pleaseee.”

the smile against toji’s lips further— you’re so cute, the way you were chasing your current orgasm. it felt like a wave, an abrupt wave that was about to collide. your cunt holds him hostage before he leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“mwahhh,” he purrs softly, deepening his hits against you before your thighs end up aching underneath near the very undersides. he’s so deep that your jaw dangles open. hot breathy puffs of air leave past your lips before he strokes your cheek. “give it to me, baby. c’mon, i got you.”

as he’s talking in such a smoothly polished tone, his words send a plethora of butterflies inside of your stomach.

toji stares at you in such a lovingly way— it last for at least six seconds, he looks like he’s about to say something even further before he stops himself. “aw. don’t space out on me now, gorgeous,” and he strokes your cheek. “squeeze my hand, girl.”

“hngh c-cumming,” you whimper, feeling your stomach seize a few times before you finally climax. it comes at such a speed that you’re taken aback. your own clammy hand grips against his whilst a thumb strokes against his knuckles before he smiles. you’re shaking, convulsing and his cock’s still buried into you from the very hilt. toji leans in, his broad chest pressing against yours before he licks near your neck. you moan, feeling your collarbone start to dampen up from his wet tongue— toji chuckles, watching you spasm out on his length before he stops his hips again. “f-fuck.”

“. . . so cute,” he susurrates, and his deep raspy voice was a mere whisper. he spoke in a hushed tone, staring deeply into your eyes before picking up your hand to kiss it. “do you feel a little better?”

“a— a little,” you inhale a sharp breath, his weight just idly hovering over your hot-tempered body. everything felt so good, it was a reoccurring ring in your ears that always came whenever you were tweaking out on his dick— he’s always loved the twitch your lips make, failing to get your words out whenever you came. in rushed words, you whine out a sweet, “t-thank you toji, thank you,” and he’s taken by surprise once you pull him into nothing more than a sweet hug. “love you.”

it takes him a good minute to reply, he has a playful pout on his lips as he’s still inside—you feel his tip mash against your sweet spot, causing you to whimper against his ear before he kisses the sensitive outer shell of your earlobe.

“oh but i love you more, babygirl,” and you feel him gradually pull out. you frown at the sudden feeling of being empty before he hums at your expression. “now, let’s get some sleep. i’ll even sing you a song, just for you.”

[foxy-eva]

Over the Edge

Summary: Spencer is desperate for you to take care of him

Request: whiny and desperate Sub!Spencer who gets called pretty and gets edged for as long as reader wants (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) Sub!Spencer, Softdom!Reader, mentions a safeword (but it’s not used), nicknames, praising, edging, orgasm control/denial, handjob, blowjob, facesitting, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

Spencer didn't say a word when he stepped through the door, making it obvious that his workday had been too long and too exhausting. He found you on the couch, a sigh escaping his throat before he kicked off his shoes and plopped down beside you. 

You reached out your hand to find his cheek, gently brushing a loose curl back. He immediately leaned into your touch. 

“Hi love,” you cooed. “I missed you.”

Spencer found your eyes, a certain desperation shining through as he looked at you. You opened your arms for him to find comfort inside your embrace. 

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled into the softness of your shirt. “So, so much.”

Your hand found his head as you began gently stroking his disheveled hair. Leaning down, you placed a tender kiss on his forehead. 

“Long day?” You asked softly, already knowing the answer. He nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer shook his head before looking up at you. “I wanna forget about it,” he whispered. 

You raised an eyebrow at his words, already suspecting what he was implying. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. A playful grin appeared on your face when you wondered, “How can I help you with that?” 

“Can you… can we, uhm,” he began muttering as he sat up. 

The way he suddenly got all shy made your heart flutter. His cheeks began blooming when he cleared his throat, clearly looking for the courage to ask for what he was craving. 

His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer. “I want to forget about everything except you,” he whispered right before placing a feather-light kiss on your lips. 

You leaned back to look at him. His eyes were wide and curious. The warm amber of his irises was mesmerizing and you took a moment to admire their beauty. 

“You’re so cute when you're needy,” You purred and noticed how his pupils dilated slightly. “Let me take care of you, my love.”

A relieved sigh fell from his lips before he nodded. You got up and took his hand in yours, leading him into the bedroom. Right then Spencer wished for nothing more than to just follow your lead. Too many thoughts had occupied his brain and he craved the feeling of finally being able to turn his head off. 

He watched intently as you began unbuttoning his shirt. “Tonight is only about you. You won’t have to make any decisions,” you began explaining. “But that also means you’ll have to follow my rules.”

“I know.” 

You had played around with power dynamics before and were open with each other about your expectations. You still wanted to make sure, so you asked, “Do you remember them?”

How could he ever forget. “I have to do as you tell me. I have to ask permission before touching you. I cannot come unless you allow it. I will get punished if I disobey you. And I have to use my safeword if it gets too much.” 

You confirmed his words with a nod. “And what is your safeword?”

“Yellow as a warning that I’m reaching my limit. Red for a full stop.” 

When the last button of his shirt was undone, you found his eyes once more and said, “Thank you for trusting me.” 

Your words made him smile. He leaned in for a kiss but halted before his lips touched yours. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and closed the distance. His lips felt soft yet demanding when you melted into each other in this kiss. Spencer's hands hovered over your waist and for a moment you damned your own rules. 

“You can touch me,” you breathed against his lips, longing for his nearness. 

He didn't waste any time to get ahold of your body, his hands roaming over your waist and back, desperately feeling you up as you deepened the kiss. 

He pressed his body against yours and you could feel his hardness straining against his pants. After what felt like forever, you pulled back and Spencer chased your lips with his for a split second. When he didn't find them, he whined at the loss of contact. 

He found you smirking at him when he opened his eyes. Without a warning, you placed your palm on the outline of his length. Spencer hissed in response and almost stumbled backwards.

“Already getting desperate?” You snickered. 

“Please…,” was all he could answer. 

“Why don’t you take off your clothes?” You suggested as you stepped back. 

The way he began hurriedly shedding his clothes looked clumsy, almost comical. It only proved how much he already needed you. It made you smile.

When he stood completely bare in front of you, you took a moment to admire his body. Your eyes wandered over his shoulders, his chest and followed the trail of hair from his navel down to his hard cock. 

“My pretty boy,” You chirped when you found his eyes again. 

The rosy color on Spencer's cheeks had turned a shade darker and his pupils had almost completely swallowed the gold of his irises. 

“Can I see you, too?” He tentatively asked. 

You looked down at your body and chuckled when you realized you were wearing gray sweatpants and a washed out t-shirt. That was certainly not what you would usually wear in situations like that.

“Not that you're not beautiful like this,” he quickly added when he noticed your reaction. “You’re always so, so beautiful.” 

“Nice save,” you quipped and decided to use the opportunity for a little challenge. “Now be a good boy and lay down on the bed. You have to wait for me. I want you to be just as hard when I return. However, you can not touch yourself.”

Spencer watched as you grabbed some clothes from the dresser. He lay down on the bed before asking, “How long do I have to wait for?” 

“I haven't decided yet. I’ll leave the bathroom door open, so I can hear you,” you answered, implying that he could still use his safeword. 

When you disappeared into the bathroom, you took your time to change into the purple lingerie you had bought just a few days ago. You checked yourself in the mirror and decided to test Spencer’s patience some more. 

He was only a few feet away but you could still hear his heavy breaths. “I hope you’re behaving,” you snickered while you began fixing your hair. 

“Yes,” he answered. “I just miss you already.” 

When you were done with your hair, you decided to put some light make-up on. You knew Spencer didn't care about that but you wanted to stall him some more. More than ten minutes passed before you came back into the room. 

“Good boy,” you praised him when you found him lying on the bed with his hands by his sides and his cock still hard. 

You noticed how his erection twitched when he laid his eyes on you, his sight slowly wandering over the purple lace and your skin. 

“You look so beautiful,” he breathed, watching intently as you sat down beside him on the mattress. 

You let your hands brush over the curve of your chest, feeling the soft lace under your fingertips. “Yeah? You like it?”

Spencer couldn't get enough from looking at you. It was as if he was getting drunk on the sight of you wearing lingerie in his favorite color. “I love it,” he muttered. 

You lay down beside him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Tell me, Spencer,” you began talking while you let your hand wander over his chest. “Did you behave?” 

“Yes I did.”

His skin broke out in goosebumps as you let your fingertips wander down his stomach. 

“You didn't touch yourself? Not even a little?”

He swallowed hard when he felt the heat of your hand radiating against his center as your palm hovered over him. 

“No, I… promise,” he stuttered. 

His cock twitched against his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum spilled from his tip. 

“Then how are you still so hard? I was gone for so long.”

The way his hips bucked up must have been involuntary. You retracted your hand, denying him any relief. 

“I thought about you,” he admitted.

His confession made you curious. “What exactly did you think about?” 

His eyes closed for a moment. “Look at me and tell me,” You demanded. 

He locked eyes with you again and muttered, “I imagined uhm… touching you.” 

You shifted your position until you were hovering over him. “What else did you think about?”

You began trailing kisses along his neck and felt his throat vibrating beneath your lips as he kept talking. 

“I thought about tasting you,” he said and you gently bit down on his pulse point, making him whimper. 

Your lips brushed over his earlobe and you whispered, “Keep talking.” 

“Thought about you kissing me.”

You descended further down his body, licking over his chest before brushing your lips over the softness of his tummy. You looked up at him and teased, “Kissed you where exactly?”

“Everywhere,” he sighed when he felt your hot breath on his erection. 

You placed a tender kiss on the base of his cock. “Here?” 

“Yes.” 

You took him in your hand and began brushing your lips along his velvety skin. Spencer shuddered when you reached his tip and let your tongue glide over it. 

“What else?” 

Spencer looked at you confused. He had already forgotten what you were talking about just moments before. 

“What else did you imagine, Spencer?” You clarified.

“This,” he whined. “I thought about this.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and he understood the warning. He took a deep breath and continued talking. 

“I thought about you taking me into your mouth.” The moment the last word left his lips, you closed yours around him. 

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as he gripped the sheets with his hands. 

His entire body began trembling as you worked your mouth along his length, taking him further in and wrapping your hand around his base. When you locked eyes with him again, he stared at you doe-eyed and with his mouth hanging open. 

You began moving with a steady rhythm, and you could feel how he tensed beneath you, all the built-up excitement begging to be released. Spencer's moans filled the room together with the filthy sounds of your mouth. Right before he got close to his breaking point, you suddenly let go of his cock. 

“No, please don’t stop!” Spencer protested once he realized what was happening. 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” You snickered as you laid back down beside him. 

A frustrated whine left his lips. You were quick to soothe him by wrapping your hand around his hardness once more. With a firm grip you let your hand move up and down, making him buck up into your fist. 

You kissed his heated cheek and purred, “You're so handsome like this. All desperate and whiny.” 

He whimpered your name, followed by a pathetic, “Please.” 

“Please, what, pretty boy?”

His voice was shaky when he pleaded, “I wanna come. Please!” 

You accelerated the pace of your hand, stroking him hard and fast, aware that you were almost overstimulating him. The sounds he made could only be described as sinful. He twitched against your palm as he got dangerously close to his undoing. 

“I need to come,” he whimpered. “Please, I–” 

“No.” You interrupted him, your hand slowing down.

“Fuck!” He cried out. “Please, I can’t!” 

You removed your hand from him and watched him. His chest was heaving and his face was scrunched up, almost as if he was in pain. 

“Look at me,” You demanded and he did. Then, with a loving softness laced over your voice, you praised him, “You're doing so good, my sweet boy. I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes began glimmering when he heard your words. You reached out your hand to gently brush over his cheek. “Are you still doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It’s just a lot.”

“I know, baby. Can you hold on for a little longer?” 

He smiled at you and nodded. 

“Good boy,” you purred. “Do you want to know what you do to me when you're a whimpering mess like that?” 

Spencer's eyes widened. “Yes.” 

You took his hand in yours and guided it down your body to the waistband of your underwear. “Go on, see for yourself,” you chirped. 

He dared to dip his hand beneath the lace, finding the fabric already soaked with your arousal. He let out a pathetic moan when his fingers glided through your slick folds. “You're so wet,” he mumbled and you hummed in response. 

It was as if he had forgotten about his painfully hard cock then. Suddenly he was only focussed on you. Even though you longed for some relief yourself, you grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away from your core. 

“Tonight is about you, though,” You reminded him

Spencer didn't waste any time to bring his fingers to his mouth to lick off your honeyed wetness. The sight was so wicked it made you moan. “Dirty boy.”

“So good,” he groaned before licking his lips. “I want to taste you. Can I, please?” 

“Really?” You cooed as you reached down to gently stroke his erection once more. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I want to make you feel good.” 

You found his lips in a tender kiss before you sat up and winked at him. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Spencer waited for your cue to lie down between your legs but you had something different in mind. With one swift motion you pulled down your underwear and tossed it aside. 

You shifted your position until you sat over his face, kneeling on the pillow with one leg on each side of his head. Hovering only an inch over his mouth, you could feel his breath tickling your heated skin as he took a moment to fully take in the sight in front of him. Delicate folds glistening with your arousal, aching to be tasted. 

You put your hands on the headboard to balance yourself and told him, “You can touch me now. Tap my thighs if you want to stop, okay?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he chuckled. 

Spencer was eager as he wrapped his arms around your legs to fully pull you down onto his face, letting you feel his mouth where you wanted him the most. You involuntarily began to rock against him as he let his flattened tongue glide through your slit, relishing the taste of you. 

Spencer closed his lips around you, sucking on your bundle of nerves until your legs started to tremble. You ground against his face, spreading your slick on his chin as he brought you closer to the edge. You tried to catch your breath between your moans and sighs as your whole body started to quiver. 

One of your hands left the headboard and found its way into his curls, harshly pulling his hair until he hummed against your folds. That was when you made eye-contact with Spencer. The look on his face could only be described as pure adoration and worship as he brought you closer to your high.

“You're such a good boy,” you praised him.

Throwing your head back and moving your hips erratically against his lips, you finally reached your climax, waves of pleasure washing through you. He helped you ride out your ecstasy with timid licks against your sensitive nub. 

He let his hands run over your legs in an attempt to ground you as you came down from your euphoric state. When you managed to even out your breathing again, you moved away from Spencer’s face, lying down next to him and curling into his side. 

Your sight fell to his cock, still painfully hard and leaking. You let your fingertips wander down his body until they made contact with him and his entire body trembled at the touch. He was overly sensitive when you began stroking him again, whimpering and mewling at your touch. 

He felt hard and heavy inside your palm and for a moment you imagined what he would feel like inside of you. A fair amount of his arousal ran down the head when you moved your fist up his shaft. You let your thumb glide over the tip, collecting his precum and spreading it over his skin as you moved your hand. 

It was no surprise that he was dancing along the edge of euphoria within moments after teasing him the entire night. “Shit,” he hissed. “I can't–” 

A moan interrupted his words and his hips jerked against your hand. 

Nonchalantly as ever, you chirped, “What is it, pretty boy?”

“Please,” he muttered. “Please can I.. ah… come?”

Accelerating your pace, you became curious how far you could take it. “Not yet,” you cooed as you kept going.

Spencer began writhing beside you, the expression you found on his face something between pain and pleasure. Your grip became looser as you slowed down, making sure he wouldn't come just yet. 

“No!” he cried. “Please!” 

Your hand left his cock as you propped yourself up to look at him. Tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, desperation written all over his face. 

“Do you want to use your safeword?” You carefully asked, wanting to make sure he was still okay. He was sincere when he shook his head and answered, “No.”

“I think I have tested your patience enough,” you decided. “You are so good for me, my sweet boy. You deserve a reward.” 

Without another word you climbed into his lap and placed his hands on your hips. You sat down on him, your core making contact with his shaft. His fingertips immediately buried into your skin. 

“Tell me, love. When I was getting ready for you in the bathroom before, was there anything else you thought about? Something you haven’t told me yet?” 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I thought about being inside of you.”

Lifting your hips, you positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. Then you slowly began sinking down on him, a loud moan falling from Spencer’s lips as you enveloped him with your warmth. You relished the sensation of being stretched open by him and your walls began fluttering around him. 

When he was fully inside you, you purred, “Like this?”

“Fuck yes!” He groaned and you felt him twitching inside you. 

The way he reacted to your actions made it obvious that he was extra sensitive right then. All his nerve endings were on edge, impatient to finally find relief. You slowly began rocking your hips back and forth, letting your body adjust to the intrusion while Spencer looked at you like he was about to lose his mind. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to last long,” he whimpered when his body began quivering. 

“That’s okay, baby. I already had so much fun with you. You can let go whenever you’re ready.” 

Spencer couldn’t hold back from thrusting upwards, meeting your motions to intensify the feeling. It was as if he held back on purpose, prolonging the feeling of finally feeling you like that. After how much you tortured him tonight, you were surprised that he didn’t give in the second you had begun moving. After a few more hard thrusts, he scrunched up his face and began panting. 

“That’s it,” you sighed. “Come for me.” 

And with a loud groan, he did. His hardness pulsed inside you as he spilled his essence into you, finally releasing all the built-up tension. You kept rocking your hips back and forth, prolonging his pleasure until it became too much and he buried his fingertips into your hips. You sat still on top of him for a few more seconds, just watching him as he came down from his high. 

When you leaned down to kiss his lips, he swung his arms around you to hold you closely inside his embrace. Long forgotten was the workday and all the sorrows that came with it.  As he breathed in your scent, his brain was only filled with you. Being with you, having you close, feeling your heart pound against his chest. Right then, nothing else mattered. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[pochaccoups]

cheol has been so hot recently i need his kids

cw — nsfw, talk of kids & pregnancy, breeding, reader referred to as ‘girl’

“Four, Seungcheol?”

“Huh?” your fiancé perks up from his phone at the sound of your voice.

“Four kids? Three boys and one girl?”

He raises one of his thick brows at you and a smirk appears on his lips. “Is that what you want?”

“No, apparently that’s what eighteen year-old Seungcheol wanted,” you say, waving your phone screen at his face. “Seungkwan sent me a video of you asking Dino how many kids he wants when he’s older. First of all, he looks like a newborn, so I don’t know why you would ask him that. Second of all, four?!”

He stretches his palm out towards you, a curious frown wracking his features as you hand your phone to him so he can watch said video.

He watches it through, and it appears you’re right—it’s his younger self telling his members that he wants three sons and a youngest daughter.

It’s not like you haven’t talked kids with him before. In fact, it’s come up a few times before, and he’s always been considerate of you only. It’s however many you want, and if you don’t want any, that’s fine too. That’s why it’s a little comical seeing a younger Seungcheol fantasise about having so many kids when you’re almost certain he had never even been in the same room with a girl yet.

For a moment he worries that you’re genuinely mad at him over this, until you throw yourself onto the couch next to him with the cutest fake pouty frown on your face.

“Your poor future wife’s womb,” you say, shaking your head at him like you’re disappointed. “You’re so inconsiderate of her.”

“We’re talking in third person now?” he laughs, reaching over to massage your thighs.

“Well, no, because I won’t be carrying four of your gremlins.”

He gives a half-scoff, half-laugh. “I’m not asking you to, honey,” he says, growing serious for a moment. The next moment he’s grinning again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I remember what one of your friends told me you said to her when me and you met for the first time.”

Sweat starts pouring down your face immediately.

“You said I was so hot that you’d give me a football team of kids if I wanted.”

“I was drunk!”

“You were tipsy at most,” he corrects.

“Whatever,” you say with a roll of your eyes and the heat of the sun in your cheeks. “I didn’t lie.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought you refuse to ‘carry my gremlins’ though. Now you want a whole football team?”

“Seungcheol!” you exclaim, smacking at his arm for his audacity. “Why don’t we worry about just one for now?”

“Wait… really?” Seungcheol asks, his eyes shining. “I thought you wanted to wait until after the wedding.”

“It’s in two months, so it’s not like I’ll be showing. Also, it can take a couple of weeks of trying to even get pregnant in the first place.”

Okay, maybe there are a few more logistical issues with being pregnant on your wedding day, but truth be told, right now, all Seungcheol can think about is fucking you into another dimension.

“Honey, I promise that I will put a baby in you by morning.”

He wasn’t lying.

The clock nears three a.m. and Seungcheol still pounds away at you like a feral dog. Every inch of your skin is sticky with either spit, sweat, or cum. Your muscles burn from exertion, not yet aching but by the time day comes they will be.

It started off soft—kisses that were bursting with love and excitement because you wanted to have a baby. A family. Seungcheol’s touches dripped with appreciation for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be like this but a thousand times more when you’re actually pregnant.

Then he’d fucked you full the first time, and in the blink of an eye, the tenderness in his eyes was gone. He’d filled you up, yet suddenly, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t help that you begged so sweetly for his cum, with your pretty eyes gazing up at him, glimmering.

He’s never been immune to your eyes.

From then on his grasp had turned bruising. Now he’s got you pressed into the mattress, pouring every ounce of his weight into fucking you.

“Feels so fucking good, Cheol,” you whimper, throat dry and raspy from all the moaning you’ve been doing. Your fingers are weak as they curl into the sheets below, but you need something to cling to or else you might pass out.

“Yeah, look at you still taking it. My fucking girl,” he grunts, digging his fingers into your hips as he arches your back further down, burying his cock impossibly deeper inside you until you swear he’s in your womb. His cum from previous rounds slips out of your hole with every time he punches into you, but Seungcheol makes no effort to push it back inside—it means he’d have to pull out, and, right now, he’d probably rather die than leave the warmth of your walls that clench down on him so tight that they keep him nestled inside.

“Made for me, you know that? You and this pussy were made for me,” he rambles, leaning down until his hard, sweat-slicked chest is pressed to your back. His hot, jagged breaths nip at your ear. “Made to take my cum, to carry my kids.”

“All yours, Cheol,” you manage in a whisper. His rough hands leave your hips, only to cover your own hands as they claw at the sheets, and lace your fingers together. A reminder that he’s still your Seungcheol, your future husband, who loves and cares for you more than anything and would never do anything to hurt you. It makes your heart and your pussy clench.

“Gonna cum again, baby? Can you take one more?” he asks, with a punched out chuckle.

“Fuck- yes, I can take it,” you mewl, voice cracking, mustering up any last remaining strength in you to push back against his hips, shamelessly desperate for cock. “Wanna cum again. Want your cum too.”

It takes everything in Seungcheol not to lose his mind. He wonders how he got so lucky with you, because he’s convinced the gods made you for him and put you in this world. The fact that he also managed to find you is a miracle.

He peels himself off of you, straightens back up, and fucks into you with such vigour that you start to see stars. Or maybe it’s your orgasm, because it’s almost immediate the way your abdomen erupts with a soft glow of pleasure—he’s wrung all the energy out of you so that it’s no longer crashing waves but a gentle pulse. Still, it leaves you breathless and teary-eyed, your pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s cock, desperate for his seed.

“There it is, good girl,” he coos, watching tenderly as you gasp and shudder from the pleasure subsiding. “I’m right there too, baby, gonna stuff you full again, just how you like it, hm?”

Gentle fingers push strands of hair out of your face, his thumb wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheek.

“Please, want your baby in me, Cheollie,” you sob.

“I’ll give you a baby. I promised, didn’t I?”

Inside your walls, his cock throbs and pulses with his promise, begging to coat your womb.

“Yes, yes, please! Want it so bad.”

You’re not sure how Seungcheol even has anything left in him, but a moment later and he’s spilling his seed inside you in spurts again, filling you up for the nth time tonight. You smile at the warmth, at the feeling of fullness that nobody but him could give you.

“Baby? Are you okay? Is it too much?” he asks, pulling out of you all too quickly after he’d come back down from his high. Your ‘perfect, doting fiancé’ Seungcheol replaces the ‘rabid animal’ Seungcheol in an instant when his head clears and he takes in the sight of you, covered in fluids and bruises and marks from his mouth and his hands.

“‘m good, just… so tired,” you say, falling to your side with a yawn, grimacing at the feeling of dried cum and spit on your skin as you move.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have kept going, I’m sorry for pushing you that hard,” he says, voice heavy. He lays next to you, stroking your cheek, his eyes glazed over with guilt.

“I would have asked to stop, I promise. You know I can take it,” you tell him, smiling assuredly at him.

“I definitely know that now.” He laughs, albeit nervously.

“Besides, you promised you’d put a baby in me by morning and there’s no way I’m not pregnant after that.”

He watches you pat your tummy and the guilt in his features vanishes then, and in its place comes smug, utterly shameless pride. He has a feeling, just an inkling, that none of this went to waste, that it stuck, that you’re right.

As a sweet slumber takes over you, the last thing you hear is your fiancé’s hushed words of “I love you,” and the feel of his lips against your forehead.

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Louder than Words - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

This is like the mushiest piece I have written. I was kinda embarrassed...but here it is. Let's give him the hugs and space he needed huh? This could also be a message to you lovelies out there too. MasterList linked at the bottom too!

Ace didn’t know what came over you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. Per se. 

You’d cupped his face gently, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks tenderly, while he just looked back at you, curious. He smiled, in hopes of easing or appeasing whatever drudge was swirling in his chest and tainting this moment, “everything alright?”

You hummed and nodded at him, not a line on your expression but the bliss that pulled at your lips, revealing your peaceful serenity to him. His breath hitched slightly as you pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment. Then a shorter peck to his nose, before nuddling it back and forth with your own. He reopened his eyes when you tilted his head, still cradled in your palms, and pressed kisses to either of his cheeks.

You pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, and he felt his heart chase after you, beating with a tenacity meant to jump ship from his chest to yours. Your eyes dropped to the last target on his face, and he felt his entire physiology twist in anticipation.

You guided his face to yours gently, holding him as though he was the most prized treasure of all the seas. If he ever said that aloud, you would agree. 

Your own personal One Piece. 

You guided him, and he followed eagerly, gravitating towards you naturally, and you met him somewhere in the middle, colliding in an explosion of euphoria, igniting the wiring of his entire being.

His every sense sharpened, yet by attuning himself to your every move he melded into you. He-his edges-seemed to all but disappear as he chased after you unwilling to disconnect for a moment longer than necessary. Your pull, irresistible-inevitable as he continued to dive deeper into it.

Deeper and deeper. 

Closer and closer. 

Chest to chest. 

Heart to heart.

Until you gently guided him away, again cradling his face and rubbing sweet, sweet, tender circles into his skin, massaging your warmth into him. Your eyes again held his, and gosh you’re just so beautiful. He’s pulled out of his daze when he felt your chest struggling under his. You’re panting slightly, your breathing a little strained, and he realized that his weight on you definitely isn’t helping. 

He lifted himself up just slightly-unwilling to completely part but-no longer crushing you. He couldn’t help but wonder: when had he ended up on top of you like this?

You’re gently moving his head about in your palms again, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Then another to the crown of his head and for a moment he’s so glad he showered and washed his hair yesterday.

“I’m so thankful to have you in my life,” you breathed into his skin, lips inscribing the words into his forehead, and tugging on his heart strings.

Again his head is guided by your hands and again his eyes are treated to the sight of yours. Like a rope with a knot catching onto a splinter of wood, the air caught inside his chest. Your own eyes trailed over his features, slowly, carefully, as though committing every part of him, every detail, to memory. You studied him with a sort of reverence, your awe manifesting in a choked gasp and subtle widening of the eyes.

Your hands slowly slipped from his face, and he found himself missing your touch immediately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to part with it for long. 

“I am so grateful,” your fingers ghosted along his cheek moving to his lips, “that you exist,” your words tugged at that stuck knot.

“That you were born,” a warmth spread through his chest - yet he couldn’t breathe. 

“That you exist in this world - and that I,” your expression became impossibly soft, “that I get to know you.” 

He opened his mouth desperate to return the sentiment, but you continued gently tracing his lips as you did, “that you’re allowing me to love you like this.”

He couldn’t-

You let out a little squeak at the speed and force with which he sat the two of you up and held you. His fingers interwoven with your hair, his nose buried in your neck, his other hand pressing you into him, melding you into his body. Soon enough, even his legs came to wrap around your own, completely preventing any chance of escape.

Though to be honest, you escape to him, not from him. 

Oh the things you did to him. 

He might be made of fire, but his devil fruit couldn’t protect him from the way your affections effectively set fire to his very brain-his heart. His chest heaved, pressing against yours, his eyes water and his grip tightened. Tremors overtook him as he fought the urge to crush you completely into his body. 

How could joy resemble a knife tearing through his chest? How could the tearing pain feel so delightful? The contradictions were enough to make his head spin and his thoughts knot up.

A gentle hand - your gentle hand slowly worked its way through his hair, patiently undoing any tangles your fingers came about, consequently undoing the intricate knotting of the net entangling his mind. The delicate trails your fingertips drew along his scalp soothed his thoughts such that each raging beastly emotion was conquered in turn. It wasn’t too long before he’d vanquished the confusion, your tender care steering him to clarity.

You were steering him towards dreamland too if he’s honest, as his consciousness began to ebb under the rhythmic flow of your fingers through the waves of his hair. It wasn’t long before it plunged completely into the ocean of unconsciousness. 

// ——

When he regained consciousness you were seated beside him, reading something or another. You were really engrossed in whatever it was you were reading, so much so that you startled a little when his hand lethargically claimed your own, pulling it closer to him.

He brushed his lips on the back of it, grinning up at you with eyes that drooped with the sleep still in them. He delighted in the flustered expression you wore in response to his own affections, blinking at you slowly. You marked your page with your free hand, before closing the book to give him your undivided attention.

“How was your nap, love?” Love you called him. Love.

His eyelids closed, succumbing to the weight they seemed to carry, basking in the bliss washing over him like a gentle summer shower. 

Love. 

He could hear you moving about, his hold on your hand tightening as you shifted. A little groan left him as he struggled to open his eyes and mouth to speak to you. You were not helping with how your other hand came to comb his hair again, but he managed, “mmm you’re…gon’ make me fall ‘sleep ‘gain.”

“Then that means you need more sleep m’love,” m’love, not just any love, your love. Yours. 

He was your love. 

Yours.

He was yours. Happily so. Forever would be too. If you’d have him. 

He hummed, lips weakly pushing through sleep to show you his satisfaction. 

Your voice was much closer to him now, speaking from right above his head, and he fought an uphill battle trying to open his eyes to look at you. His whole body felt heavy, completely sapped of strength. Heck even his grip on your hand was as limp as ever. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in contact with sea stone or something. 

He felt you press your lips to his forehead again, gently fueling him enough to pull his lips into a drowsy, wobbly, smile. 

“Get some rest love,” you spoke softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Stay wit mmmmm,” talking was proving to be a challenge, “c’mere.”

He threw a heavy arm over what he hoped was your waist. It probably was? Gosh he couldn’t care with the way you were giggling next to him. 

“Sure thing love,” you had to be doing some kind of magic with how he felt like he was levitating despite the weight that seeped into his bones, “just let me brush my teeth first.”

He couldn’t hold you down if he wanted to with how tired he was, “mmm back soo,” he mumbled.

“Sure thing,” his lips wobbled themselves into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead again. 

He was out instantaneously. You kept your promise though; through his daze he felt you slip in and embrace him. Seems like his body knew what to do too, despite its earlier lack of cooperation, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in return before he was out again.

He woke up in your arms. 

His head rested against your chest, with your arm languidly around his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath filled him with the nostalgia of the scent of home. A home that did not exist in his memories. Which meant it probably existed in his imagination then. A home that could be. A home with you.

It was the scent of home nonetheless. 

He tightened his hold on your waist nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

I’m so grateful you exist.

His arms instinctively tightened.

That you were born. 

His inhale was a stuttery one, his own lips and vision stuttering as well. He buried his face further into your neck, taking in your scent again. Yet all that did was push the tears out faster. 

That was the opposite of what he’d expected! 

Urgh. One of those hot, salty blobs ended up on your skin.

To his relief, and dismay - oddly enough - you remained unconscious. Your eyes closed and breathing consistent. Though that didn’t last long, as you shifted slightly, the arm around his shoulder worked to pull him into you, as your other one came up to play with his hair-you really liked doing that huh?

“Get it aaall,” your voice was thick with sleep, “get it all…out,” you hummed a bit, “let all that poison out.”

“Darlin’, did I wake you?” It was pathetic how his voice cracked - he hated this weakness that was welling up...again.

Just like that, your hold on him tightened, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you sounded much more awake now, “you’re one of the people I want to be there for the most.”

Unfortunately, a choked sob left him. Gosh he was so pathetic. He was a full grown man! He wasn’t supposed to be some weak crybaby! To think he used to get mad at Luffy for crying too!

Yet…

He. couldn’t. stop.

His shoulders shook, the tremors traveled his body, and a violent shiver wracked it. Yet you laid and held him and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing your favorite spot on his forehead consistently. Every kiss, every gentle brush of your loving fingers tenderly working through his hair, every tender trace of your fingertips on his scalp, brought a fresh wave of tears to follow the next. At some point he’d started clutching on to you, like you were the life-ring preventing him from drowning.

He wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All he knew that in between his sniffles and his sobbing there was your voice. 

“Get it all out love,” you lightly encouraged - as though he wasn’t lesser for crying like a baby. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you said a few times too - as though this pathetic display wasn’t shameful.

“I love you so much,” you reaffirmed time and time again stroking his hair - as though his weakness didn’t make him less desirable.

For whatever reason he didn’t doubt a word. Despite the mental cesspool working overtime to drown him in darkness, the light of your honesty shone through. No matter how far he fell, it followed.

He wasn’t sure how long you two lay there, holding each other, and he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness again. His eyes were so incredibly heavy when he woke up again though. They must be swollen from all his crying. You weren’t next to him this time, however as his senses came back to him, he could hear the sounds of a pen scratching and paper flipping.

When he sat up, he noticed a pitcher of water and a tall glass with an opaque yellow-tinted liquid and some mint leaves in it-lemonade probably-on the bedside table. He had a moment to locate you at his desk before you turned to face him, “hey there.”

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still thick from lack of use.

You put the pen down, got up, and walked towards him with a kind smile, “I made you some lemonade, and got some water,” you sat down near his legs, “gotta replace all those fluids you lost.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “your lessons with Marco are going well, huh?”

“I also have a lot of personal experience with these things,” you grinned at him.

“With crying like a baby?” 

You just hummed and nodded.

“This might sound bad,” you weren’t looking at him as you confessed, “but I’m kind of…” you trailed off, shooting him a quick glance, “happy,” you shrunk, your shoulders reaching your ears, “you felt safe enough to be that vulnerable with me.”

“So, you liked seeing me cry?” He poked at you. “Should I cry more for you, doll?”

“Ace,” you groaned, your smile only growing fonder as you looked at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a sadist,” he kept teasing, “I’m not sure how I feel about this kink of yours.”

He loved the way you rolled your eyes, but revealed your teeth with how big your smile was getting. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” you corrected, “I like that you feel safe with me.”

You paused, then appended, “well safe enough to not hide your pain.”

“Hide my pain?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Crying is one way to get pain out of your body,” you twisted your body to face him more fully, voice soft as you shared your opinion, “emotional pain especially.”

“Isn’t crying just weakness?” He frowned at you. 

“No?”

“It’s not?” 

“Do you think I’m weak when I cry?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“But you’re a woman.”

A tired look flashed over your features momentarily, “so men aren’t allowed to cry?” You challenged, tone still as patient as ever.

“Only weak men cry,” for some reason the words sounded less convincing in your presence.

“Who says?” His gaze snapped up to meet yours and you repeated yourself, “who said?”

“Isn’t it just something that everyone knows?” His brow furrowed, scowl taking his features. 

“No,” you paused as you said that, “well I guess in a sense,” you squinted at nothing, “yes… it is something that many people assume.”

“You just saw me cry like a baby,” he countered, “you don’t think I’m weak?”

“On the contrary,” he felt his eyes widen despite the weight embedded into them, “you’ve been carrying all that pain.” 

An ache tormented your gentle expression, “and you choose kindness and warmth and bring joy to those you care about despite it,” you looked him in the eye again, “that isn’t something a weak person could do.”

A shiver traveled down his spine at the way your eyes studied him, softening as you opened your mouth to speak again, “kindness is the mark of the strong, Ace,” you placed your hand on top of his notably larger one, pride dripping from your voice, “and you’re so incredibly kind.”

What was with you and stealing the air from his lungs? He felt his chest constrict like he’d been punched too.

“We’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” your thumb traced circles onto the back of his hand, “we’re even luckier to be loved by you.”

He could feel that prickling in the back of his eyes he was becoming way too familiar with for his liking. “We really have to do something about that crying kink of yours,” he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you weren’t mad. “I think I’m just going to have to tell you more often how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

His heart lurched in his chest, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

“We can both be lucky.”

“Then I’m luckier.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yea huh.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“No,” he has a huge grin on his face at your scowl. 

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, rising from the bed with a dramatic sigh, “I’ll let you believe whatever you want to believe.”

“Oi!” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him.

“Drink some water and your lemonade, love,” you gave him a little peck on his forehead again, “then let’s get you showered and fed.”

He caught your wrist as you moved away, “where are you going?”

“To the desk,” you blinked at him.

“What’re you up to there?”

“I’m just going through some paperwork,” he really was the luckier one of the two of you.

“Marry me,” the words flew out of his mouth before his mind could even register them in his thoughts.

You laughed, raising your left hand for him to view, “already did.”

Shoot.

“Now,” mirth still colored your expression, “you drink your lemonade while I get these papers done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted you and allowed you to slip out of his grasp.

It was when he’d finally moved to lean back against the wall and grabbed the drink you’d prepared that he heard you giggle a little. Strange, given what you were working on, “see something funny?”

“No,” you singsonged, cheerfully wiggling in your seat, “it’s just my husband asked me to marry him, again, and I’m feeling very happy.”

His head clunked against the wall he rested against, heat rushing to his cheeks as a disgruntled groan left him, despite the way he was grinning, “I swear I didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t think you did, love,” you giggle some more, turning slightly to look at him, “I’m just so happy you would want to marry me, again.”

“I’d marry you again every day if I could,” he took a swig of his lemonade enjoying the way you fought and failed to keep your smile contained as it threatened to split what he could see of your face.

You turned back around and he could see that you were fighting to focus on the papers in front of you. 

“How about we have another wedding on the Moby Dick?” He found himself scooching his way down the bed, his excitement uncontained. “We can get you a proper dress this time! Your own!”

He looked up thinking some more, “and I’ll wear a proper suit with a vest and a tie and everything!”

“I’m surprised you know about vests and ties,” you shot him a teasing grin.

“Hey! I took some etiquette classes as a kid!” 

“You did?”

“I didn’t tell you?” He’d have to tell you more about his life before he set sail then. “Yeah back when I was in the East Blue,” it’s been a while since he left huh? “Makino-a barmaid from the village nearby-taught me manners.”

“So she’s the one that taught you about vests and ties?”

“Yeah,” oh wait a second, “we can have Thatch make us a huge cake and a feast!” Now that he was back on the original topic he had so many ideas! “Pops can officiate! Marco can be the one to bring you down the aisle! And-and-”

“You really want to have another wedding then?” You were now turned to face him completely.

“Yeah! How about it?” He scooched even closer to you. “Our first one was nice too, but we were in a hurry and I remember we had to go with whatever we had.”

“Is it bad that I liked our small, humble wedding?”

“Huh? No of course not! It was great!” Where did that come from? “I’m just saying we can have another so I can ‘marry you again.’”

“Hmm the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a three piece suit is tempting,” you hummed.

He guffawed a bit at that. “I’d probably mistake you for an angel if I saw you in a white dress.”

“Aww you wouldn’t recognize me?”

“Nah because,” he smirked, “I’d be blinded by how beautiful you’d look.”

When you hunched your shoulders to your ears and looked away a bit, his chest swirled with pride. He was getting better at this flirting with you thing!

“Maybe we shouldn’t then,” sounds of protest were leaving him before he knew it, “I don’t want to blind you.”

That had the two of you laughing.

When you calmed down, you turned back towards the work waiting for you, “there isn’t much left to do commander, so stop distracting me.”

Your distraction quickly chugged the rest of that refreshing glass of juice, and moved back to pour himself a glass of water. Something seemed to click within his head as he pondered your order: “I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.”

He burst out laughing. “Well we’re even then,” he proceeded to take a loud slurp of water.

He almost choked on it laughing when he saw you startle a bit, his flirt landing well with you again. 

Cradling his glass, he opted to just watch you work. He’d make your second wedding happen. You deserved to be celebrated again and again. Besides, it’s not like pirates didn’t party regularly. So it’s not like they’d be going out of their way really-if that’s what you were worried about. Well, knowing you, that was something you were worried about. He found an amused little huff leaving him at that thought. 

“See something funny, love?” Seems you’d heard him.

“Nope,” he grinned your way, “just thinking.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Hey!”

“You come up with some pretty crazy schemes,” he noticed the little smirk on your lips - oh you cheeky - “they’re usually fun, even if they’re dangerous.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” He grinned. “You always add on more crazy things!”

“My crazy things are to make your crazy things less dangerous,” you hummed, “I very much prefer you alive, well, and healthy you see.”

“You just like me,” he beamed at you with a laugh.

“I love you, actually,” you responded without missing a beat nor looking up from your paperwork.

Yeah.

He was definitely giving you that second wedding here on the Moby Dick. Maybe even at one of the prettier spring or autumn islands on Pops’ turf. Whatever you’d like the most! Heck he’ll give you two second weddings - er - a second and a third. Wedding. Yeah.

Oh!

Maybe he could even surprise you with it! 

He ought to get started on it - today! Right now!

He threw back the rest of his glass of water and rushed to the door.

“Ah! Ace! Wait a second!” He paused right before opening it up. “I’m just about done with this! Let me finish and I can help you with your hair and back!”

“Huh?” He raised a brow at you.

“Huh?” You returned equally confused. “Weren’t you going to shower to feel better?”

“No?” He tilted his head.

“Then you’re going straight for the kitchen?” You continued, still confused. “Didn’t you want to eat together?”

Oh that was tempting. He couldn’t say no to that. Wait, even the shower help was tempting. You’d been the one to teach him how to properly scrub his scalp after all. But he didn’t want to delay his surprise a second longer!

“Then, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” not really a lie, he’d get fresh air on his way to see Marco, “then we can eat together.”

“So no shower?”

“Wouldn’t we get caught?”

“What do you mean? I’m just washi-Ace!” You let out a garbled sound making him laugh.

“Alright, alright darlin’,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m just teasing. Yeah we’ll do both.”

“Okay,” you seemed pleased with that outcome, despite it being more work for you.

He let go of the door handle to come press a kiss to your forehead, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you returned immediately.

He walked out the door feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Yeah he was definitely giving you the grandest wedding he could, and he was a Whitebeard pirate, and they really knew how to party.

Extra:

Later during an “Official Division Commander Meeting”:

Izou: she must be the one to pick out her dress

Ace: then I’ll take her out to get one picked

Izou: absolutely not! I will

Ace: hey she’s my wife

Izou: exactly! You’re not allowed to see her in the dress until the ceremony you fool!

Marco: (placing a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder) well, there’s no one better for this task than Izou yoi

Izou: hmph! but of course

Thatch: you all have the easy part, I have to make all the food, and the cake

Ace: it’ll be worth it!

Thatch: for you maybe, you’re not the one cooking to feed a fleet. I swear I have the most difficult job

Marco: we have feasts all the time, no need to do anything extra yoi. 

Ace: except the cake! The cake is really important!

Thatch: yeah yeah I heard you. groans

Marco: Besides your division has a bunch of cooks to help you out doesn’t it?

//------------------------

If you liked it: please toss a comment to the lonely oh people a'plenty

For More Ace Content: Tumblr MasterList and Asks are Open -> rules here

[kairawrites]

shea butter.

🌺 masterlist 🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: for all my fellow natural girlies. there's a slight mention of sex, you'll miss it if you squint.

summary: jude could do his own hair, but why do that when he has you?

The clippers hummed quietly in your hand as you focused intently on lining up Jude’s hair. The soft, melodic sound of Sade floated through the room, the sounds of her voice seemed to make time slow down and the outside world felt miles away. You hummed along quietly, barely conscious of it, your voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the music. 

Jude sat on your accent chair, the plush upholstery sinking slightly beneath his weight as he leaned back, his broad frame clad only in a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. A towel, hastily draped over his shoulders as a makeshift cape, protected his bare chest from the stray clippings of his hair.

His legs were parted just enough to make space for you to stand between them, your body close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from you. His half-lidded eyes, still heavy from sleep, followed your every movement as you worked. The corner of his lips turned up in a lazy, contented smile as he listened to you hum softly. He knew the melody would be stuck in his head the moment he had to leave for the airport in the morning.

The fingers of his left hand are warm against your outer thigh. Gentle as they lightly retrace the same pattern over and over. He watched as your face took on that look of deep concentration he had come to love—your brow furrowing slightly, lips pressed into a soft line as you meticulously moved the clippers along his hairline. The way your lips parted ever so slightly when you leaned in closer, studying each angle, made his chest tighten with a familiar warmth. 

Your lashes fluttered with every blink, and Jude marveled at how you managed to look so peaceful and yet so focused all at once. Your eyes, usually bright with humor, were now narrowed, intent on perfecting every detail. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as the music shifted into a familiar tune, and you began to hum a little louder, Jude's fingers swirling to the beat.

Jude loved Sundays—at least, Sundays with you. With you, Sundays were peaceful. The morning was always dedicated to wash days, a ritual he had grown to love as much as you did. He would wake up to the sound of running water and the faint scent of your hair products lingering in the air, instantly bringing a sense of calm over him. He loved watching you go through your routine, the way you treated your curls with so much love and care, making him crave that same tenderness for himself. Which is why doing his hair had become embedded in your routine.

He was typically alongside you, resting on the edge of the vanity or standing nearby, his curious eyes studying the bottles of creams, oils, and conditioners you carefully selected. You’d catch him reaching for them, his hands inspecting the labels as if trying to decipher their secrets. Not sure why his hair only came out perfect when you used them. You loved that he wanted to be a part of it—so you’d often pass him a bottle, letting him unscrew the lids and hold the products just to make him feel included.

He would lift them to his nose, inhaling deeply, his face lighting up as he absorbed the subtle fragrances of coconut, honey, shea butter, and vanilla. “Smells like you,” he’d say, grinning. And you’d smile back, your heart swelling at how even the simplest things about you had become a comfort to him.

When it came time to detangle your curls, he was always eager to help, his hands gentle but sure as he ran them through your damp hair. He loved the feel of your curls, the softness that slipped between his fingers, the way your head would tilt just slightly, trusting him with something so personal. It was a quiet kind of intimacy—one that didn’t require words but was steeped in care. The kind of closeness he found himself craving whenever he was away, the moments he would replay in his mind on long nights spent traveling from one match to the next.

That’s why, when Jude woke up this morning and realized he had slept half the day away, he cursed himself for missing that precious time with you. Especially being as he had to leave in the morning. Sundays with you meant more than just relaxation; they were filled with the kind of connection that grounded him, that made him feel like just a man in love, far from the pressures and chaos of his world outside..

Although he’d missed your routine, he’d let out a sigh of relief when you had dragged him out of bed and to your chair.

Your hair, still damp from your wash day, framed your face in loose curls that bounced gently with your movements.

You leaned in closer, your hand gently cradling his jaw, your fingers just barely brushing the line of his jaw--a subtle reminder to stay still.

His gaze drifted over the curve of your lips, and he found himself smiling as he watched you quietly mouthing the lyrics to the song. You weren’t singing aloud, just quietly to yourself, as if the music had wrapped itself around you, pulling you further into the moment. Jude didn’t dare move, afraid to break the spell that had settled over the room.

"Almost done," you murmured under your breath, not even fully aware that you had spoken.

He could have closed his eyes and drifted off, lulled by the warmth of the room, the soothing music, and the gentle hum of your voice. But he didn’t want to miss this—didn’t want to miss watching you in this space where he was completely at ease. 

Jude’s voice was soft when he finally spoke, breaking the gentle silence. “You look so beautiful when you concentrate, you know that?”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, surprised by the sudden compliment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Your hands gently brush his shoulders to dust off stray hairs. "Sorry, Mr. Bellingham, I don’t accept compliments as payment," you teased, tilting your head with a playful glint in your eyes.

Jude’s laugh bubbled up, still thick with the remnants of sleep, the sound low and warm like a gentle rumble from his chest. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to curl back into bed with him. “Oh yeah?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “What do you accept then?”

You grinned, biting your lip for a moment as you pretended to think. Letting your touch pass over his jaw, you smiled as his lips warmed your palm. “Kisses,” you said simply.

Jude didn’t miss a beat, his grin widening as he reached for you, his fingers slipping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Got plenty of those," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your stomach, his lips warm through the fabric of his sweatshirt that you wore. He placed a kiss against your chest, your neck before your cheek.

Your fingers curled into his hair as you laughed softly. "Better start paying up then," you whispered, leaning down to meet his lips with yours, the kiss soft and lingering. Your lips left his, him releasing an unsatisfied groan of protest. 

“We need to finish this,” you giggle, lips pressing against the bridge of his nose, before stepping back.

Jude’s eyes followed you as you moved, every part of him attuned to the way the soft fabric of his favorite sweatshirt shifted over your frame. The deep navy of the worn cotton contrasted perfectly against your skin, and though it hung loosely on you, it couldn’t hide the subtle movements of your body beneath. His gaze trailed from the hem brushing your thighs to the gentle sway of your hips, making it impossible for him to look away.

As you reached the vanity to place the clippers down, he took the opportunity to shift forward. His hands found your waist, pressing gently into the fabric, the warmth of his touch radiating through the sweatshirt. It was a familiar gesture, one that always made you feel anchored to him. You turned to face him, done gathering the items you needed to finish his hair, but Jude had other ideas.

With a gentle but insistent tug, he guided you back toward him, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“You can finish the rest here,” he mumbled. His arms slipped around your waist, drawing you down onto his lap. You settled into the familiar space, the weight of his hands steady and comforting against your hips.

“As long as you promise to behave,” the half hearted warning prompting your boyfriend’s touch to slip from beneath your sweatshirt.

Settling back against the seat, Jude murmured, “Always making me look better than anyone else could.”

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, your lips curving into a smile. “Your barber might disagree,” you teased lightly, though you knew the way he looked at you said far more than just appreciation for your skills with clippers.

Jude's eyes softened, his gaze never leaving your face as he replied, “No one takes the time and care like you do.” His hands slid up your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over your skin, sending a warm shiver through you.

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Better let me finish then," you whispered, smiling against his mouth before pulling back. “Can’t have your fans coming for me if I mess you up.”

You lifted the spray bottle and began dampening his hair, your fingers working through his soft curls with practiced ease. Jude’s hands, however, had a mind of their own. They roamed gently over your legs, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your thighs. He couldn’t seem to stop touching you, each stroke of his hands filled with lazy admiration.

As you focused, Jude’s hands eventually slipped beneath the hem of the sweatshirt, brushing over the small of your back. The light pressure of his touch made you sigh softly, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin. His hands moved slowly, rhythmically, as though he were tracing a map only he could read.

“Jude,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful exasperation as you continued working on his hair. “You’re distracting me.”

His low chuckle vibrated through the space between you. “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your wrist in a gentle kiss as his hands wandered up your thighs again. “You’re just so soft.”

You bit your lip to suppress a smile, lowering the spray bottle as you combed your fingers through his curls. “You say that every time.”

“That’s because it’s true,” he countered, capitalizing on the pause in your actions. His fingers drew slow, lazy patterns across your lower back.  “I still don’t know how you’re always so soft,” he murmured, his hands moving to cradle your hips.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, but his hands made it nearly impossible. As your fingers moved through his damp curls, Jude’s touch drifted lower, cupping the backs of your thighs, his grip firm yet tender. The sensation sent a pleasant warmth through you, and when his hands finally squeezed the soft flesh of your butt, you couldn’t help but shift forward in his lap. You caught sight of his smirk as you instinctively shifted against him, the feel of him against you causing you to repeat the action.

“Jude,” you began again, only this time you’re unable to complete the sentence.

He hummed in response, his hands repeating the action, enjoying the way you moved in response to his touch. His grip tightened, encouraging you to grind against him, shifting his hips as your eyes fluttered close. “Hmm?” His voice was light, but the mischief in his eyes as he pulled back made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Mind your hands," you warned.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, but he obediently kept his hands in place as you leaned back to retrieve the curl cream from the vanity. "I’m not doing anything," he teased, as he unscrewed the lid for you.

He was right. You should be able to resist him, but you can't. Not when the heat of his body is this close. Not when you can feel him pressing against you, the thin fabric of his sweatpants and your underwear separating you allowing you to feel exactly where his mind was headed. Not when his hands are kneading your skin, the motion hypnotic and tempting. Not when he leaned forward slightly, the moment you gathered the product in your hand, brushing his lips against your wrist as you began to work the cream into his hair.

You sighed, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest as his kisses moved lazily from your wrist up the inside of your arm. "Jude," you muttered, a mixture of amusement slipping into your tone. He knew what he was doing—distracting you, as always.

"Mmhmm?" he responded, his voice a soft murmur against your skin as he kissed a spot just above your elbow. “..you said watch my hands…”

Despite his affectionate distraction, you pressed on, determined to finish his hair. But Jude’s attention was unwavering—his lips now following a slow path up your arm, until he reached your shoulder. His mouth warm against your skin, tongue brushing against your skin before he gently began to against your neck. The position was not helpful, but you both knew you wouldn’t move to stand.

You pulled back briefly to grab more product from the vanity, shaking your head with a smile that you couldn't hide. As you leaned back in, Jude took the opportunity to nuzzle his lips against your neck, his kisses soft and warm, teasing the sensitive skin there picking up where he'd left off.

“Jude,” you said again, a warning in your voice, though it lacked any real conviction. The rest of your words were lost, falling victim to the sigh that escaped as he found the spot he knew that could cloud your mind. His fingers digging into your skin as you instinctively shifted your hips.

 He repeated the action, focusing solely on kissing and sucking your skin. The action covering your body in a familiar heat. It took all your concentration to stay focused on his hair rather than the way his hand shifted to rest against the base of your spine.

Your mind floods with memories of the last time you were in this position. You had meant to be doing his hair, but Jude's wandering hands and lips had made you abandon the task entirely. As you relax against him now, your hands momentarily still in his hair, a low chuckle escapes his lips, letting you know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

How easily it had been that morning to shift your weight to his right thigh. How your fingers had tightened in his hair, tugging against the curls you’d just tended to. How your hips allowed his hands to guide their movements. Him encouraging you to grind down on his thigh, until your body was a quivering mess your voice melding into the music, his lips and teeth dragging along the warmth of your shoulder and neck. How easily he'd slipped between your folds by the time he'd pulled you onto his lap. How the high you were chasing had forced you to accept his desire for you to ride him slowly. Submitting, allowing him guide your hips, welcoming the words he'd whispered against your skin. The orgasms he'd pulled from you that morning tugging at your mind each time you sat in that same chair when he was away.

"I’m just helping," he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he pressed another gentle kiss just beneath your ear, sending a rush of warmth through you.

"You’re not helping at all," you laughed softly. You were trying to sound firm, but his lips found that perfect spot again at the base of your neck, and you couldn’t help the quiet sigh that escaped your lips.

Jude’s hands remained planted firmly on your hips, just as you had instructed, but his lips—his lips had other plans. They moved with deliberate slowness, peppering kisses along the curve of your neck, your shoulder, your jaw.

“Just saving you time,” he mumbles. “No point in pretending how this’ll end.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in mock disapproval even as a smile tugged at your lips. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

He grinned against your skin, his breath warm as he whispered, "I know," before placing one last kiss just below your jawline.

Your hands, slick with product, glide through Jude’s curls one last time before you wipe them clean on the towel draped over his shoulders. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and you catch the way his lips twitch upward in that familiar, mischievous smile. He knows exactly where this is headed.

With a soft thud, you let the towel fall to the floor, and before you can make a move, Jude’s arms are wrapped around your waist pulling you close. He tips his head back slightly as your hands instinctively find the nape of his neck, your fingers grazing over the warm skin there. His gaze flickers down to your lips, and for a moment, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and steady as it fans over your face. 

Jude's nose brushes against yours, the softest of touches, and the space between you grows smaller until your lips meet in a kiss—gentle at first, tender and lingering. His lips hover there, but you can't help yourself. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, and the world around you fades. 

tagging those who liked the post about this story. sorry it's late af.

@iicldkwhatimdoingheretbh @jareaulamontagnes @judes-baeeee @alexandraa-mondragonn @tana-mxx @whorefordeadpeople @redbulldoesntgiveyouwings @judespoets @deanbluntsupremacy @atlasthecreator @humanstheworld @sakaloverrr @justabrokensoulxd @preetykookiie @bbgkoo @anotimportantperson @bellinghamfc @certifiedlesbianbaddie @lilyislostinthelight @elisacarynia @abbieanthony20 @extrology467 @sinnerxxer @lanassiren444 @undercover-fangirl5 @judescorem @eriks-girl @calif0rnia-lovers @menacetosobr1ety

[monster-effer]

Tender Kisses and Birthday Wishes - Sylus x reader

Summary: It’s Sylus’ birthday and you decide to surprise him with something special. Content: fluff, Sylus being a lover boy, a little ✨suggestive✨, massaging, kisses, affection, gn reader (746 wc) A/N: Even though I’m in creativity slump rn, I still wanted to write something sweet for the love of my life. In the same vein as Magnum Opus - Sylus is being pampered by the reader, because he deserves it ♡

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is curious about your plans for his birthday this year. He’s expressed that he has all the material items he could ever need, so gifts are not necessary or expected. Yet he has seen the charges racking up on his black card over the past month, not that he minded. He has practically begged you to use it. And now that you are, it has been difficult to stop himself from taking a peek at the credit card statement. He loves letting you plan things, and he cannot wait to see the results.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who happily lets you blind fold and lead him by the hand towards his surprise. With senses as sharp as his he can hear Luke and Kieran whispering to each other and Mephisto excitedly fluttering in the entryway.

Birthday Boy!Sylus is left speechless when you remove the blindfold from his eyes. He carefully takes in the room you’ve transformed into a massage parlor. There is a well-built, leather massage table in the middle of the room. The black out curtains are drawn closed and red candles serve as the only source of light in the room, giving off a romantic vibe. Soothing nature sounds from your curated playlist can be heard playing in the background. And a pleasing mix of lavender and chamomile wafts through the room, stemming from essential oil diffuser in the corner of the room. He is impressed to say the least.

Birthday Boy!Sylus turns towards you with a soft look in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips that only grows as you begin to speak. “Welcome Mr. Sylus, I will be your personal massage therapist today. Please feel free to remove your clothing and make yourself comfortable on the massage table. We offer a selection of massage oils in different scents including-”

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is half listening to your spiel because he’s trying so hard not to tear up. No one has ever done something so personal and intimate like this for him (not that he would have let them). He feels…special and cared for in a way that is hard for him to express. From your tumultuous reunion in the N109 Zone, to your adventure in the grassland, to the present day. He wouldn’t change anything you two have been through because he got to spend time with you.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who watches you leave the room after your well rehearsed speech and dutifully follows the bits of instructions he recalled. He completely undresses, climbs under the blanket, and places his face in the cradle of the massage table. Then he closes his eyes as he awaits your return.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is impressed by how thoroughly you are digging into the knots and sore spots in his neck and back. He can’t help but let out groans and perhaps a whimper as tension— he wasn’t previously aware of — is released from his body. Your soft hands have lulled him into a blissfully fuzzy state which sits somewhere between tranquility and slumber. He is putty in your hands, and he would not have it any other way.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who turns over onto his back at your prompting, unashamedly sporting an erection. How could he be anything but aroused with your hands all over him? He loves it when you touch him freely. When you take liberties and show him, and anyone else around, that he belongs to you. He has been yours since you met in the Abyss and will remain yours in this lifetime and the next.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is fighting the urge to buck his hips as you tenderly massage his chest, teasingly brush across his nipples and begin to work on his ironclad thighs. The glare he sends your way is dampened by his half-lidded gaze. He purposefully ignores your adorable giggles and whispered request for him to relax. As if that’s an easy task, especially at a time like this.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who silently laments the inevitable conclusion of his massage because he could stay in this moment with you for a lifetime. He practically purrs when you begin to run your fingers through his hair, massage his temples and jaw, then finish by giving him a tender kiss on his lips.

If Birthday Boy!Sylus happens to pull you on top of him for a deeper kiss and possibly more…you don’t bother teasing him about being needy. It is his birthday after all.

divider by: @/saradika-graphics

[kujiba]

;MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE;

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns| Sagau | cultish behavior

A/n: AHHH I'm so happy rn!! Tysm for the people who reblogged/liked my posts!! I'll give it my all(๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵)و

Tw: mention of Drugs, slight mention of abuse, Gore/ Torture warning

Hint!: theres a secret message by the end :3

Tag list: @vianitry

One / Two / Three / Four / Five

Countless of people bustled and gathered at the nation of eternity; Inazuma by a letter delivered to them personally. Who had formed this festival you may ask? Why it isn't no other than their 'grace' themselves! Rooted from their tender heart, their 'grace' had devise one of the most largest festivals ever recorded in the history of Teyvat.

A bard who sang songs to a small audience, that small bunch turned into a group, and a group switched to a crowd as they were all allured by its melody and how graceful the youthful looking man's fingertips strummed his lyre.

Yet the bard had his attention elsewhere, he had purposely gathered this much attention to try and lure in his beloved target. One will say that this man's slyness is like a strong gust of wind passing by you, you'll see him one second and he'll dissapere the next.

"I wonder where you're now my grace? Don't you worry though. The wind will tell me everything... So don't try and escape me again."

Yet elsewhere, a mature looking man had drawn many bystander's attention on his various dialouge's and stories connecting to the past. The man's intellect about various subjects putting numerous academic experts to shame.

His silky smooth hazel hair flowed as a small breeze passed by him, with a short hum he placed down the jade tea cup on the umber wooden table after narrating a story about some magnificent individual who he still greatly admired till this day.

The crowd surrounding him praised and clapped on his knowledge about such distinct topics that not one single person had ever heard of yet, it was as if he was there to witness it all happen closely.

Eventually a random passerby had become curious enough to ask the intellectual man a question that had been lingering in their mind's for a while.

"Sir, may I ask, but who is this person you highly speak of in your stories?"

"Who they are? Well, they are an old companion of mine that I cherish deeply."

The man chuckled as the memories flooded through his mind, every breath and second he had spent with them was deeply engraved into his mind and stored for centuries. Even now after countless years, he could still vividly remember his first encounter with them.

"Who knows, maybe I'll come across them today."

No... Not maybe, the man was confident they will cross paths today, he will do whatever it takes to be in their presence once more and be able to touch their soft and delicate skin.

He will do anything, to make that happen.

...

'Woah, I never knew Zhongli was this obsessed with someone' You looked at the man dumbfounded by what you had heard.

You previously just got teleported into Inazuma and had to experience the 10 stages of adhd since numerous guards began hunting you down for NO reason at all.

To your luck you managed to slip into a thick crowd concealing your presence and being able to wander around the lively and bustling streets for a little bit.

From what you had gathered by the citizens gossiping, this is a festival hosted by someone named 'their grace', literally nothing else but 'their grace'.

'Poor unfortunate soul... Your parents must've been drunk when they named you such a strange name.' You shaked your head feeling a large amount of pity towards the person you haven't even met yet, that is aside from the numerous tales passed around about this grace person being a kind and pure soul.

You sure wana meet them! Maybe they could help you a bit in your situation with the guards.

While you were busy with your thoughts, you suddenly noticed the crowd began moving forward. Turning your head you could see a vague small silhouette of a person standing on top of a statue.

'Isn't that highly dangerous? What if you slip and fall?'

During your criticization for the lack of safety the person was doing, the crowd abruptly began going wild with people shoving others aside to get a better view whilst doing other drastic measures just to even get a sight of the person bestowed upon them.

Confusion striked you like a truck on full speed, you began avoiding the mob of people the best you can as they started getting physical with others, yet you still couldn't even put your finger on who that person on the statue was and how important they are to the people.

Was it a character you haven't met yet in genshin? Or possibly a secret character? You didn't have a clue.

But that's when it hit you.

That must be the grace everyone was talking about! Goddammit why wasn't your brain working earlier.

"Gotta ask them to have their guards stop following me.."

...

'That's right, continue to scream my name, for I alone am the one who transcends above you all.'

Their grace's mask was consisted of an image where they are portrayed as a pure hearted, selfless and kind to the other people... Or what the people of Inazuma had made.

People had already lost their minds after the dissaperance of their god.. Their creator. So when a so called 'creator' stepped forward suddenly all the people in inazuma has had their brains wiped off clean.

Their 'grace' had always thought of themselves worthy of this position.

And it wasn't just because they felt like it. When they had died from an accident, they were then reincarnated as a noble in Inazuma. But they all knew too well that this wasn't the case, they were the chosen ones, they were the right fit for this 'creator' or whatever.

There were some times where people who had worked for their grace experienced several abuse from them, but that must not be the case right? They must've been on the edge or had a bad day, It was their fault for trying to intervene and making their Graces condition worse.

But the people still choose to turn a blind eye on it, they're not stupid of course since before; the very moment the Imposter arrived their suspicions grew larger and larger each passing day.

All of that just to disperse once people began to find out something that is special from the Imposter and not like the rest; how they bring peace through the citizens minds just by being around their presence.

Though, none of them are aware that this was just an old trick by using drugs that originated from the Imposters home land and wasn't widely known yet throughout Teyvat. The very same drug that people had thought was a 'Divine Blessing'

Thankfully, not all were deceived by this petty trick from the Imposter. Only non-human races like gorou, kirara, yae miko and Arataki Itto could immediately tell it wasn't any blessing. The ones aware desperately tried to convince the people it wasn't any blessing and that they should avoid the Imposter, but they were quickly shut down.

Gorou was forced to be silenced as his own men didn't believe any word he spoke, kirara and yae mikos voice wasn't heard by anyone. Itto had gotten arrested by the Tenryou Commission when he spoke about it to Ayato and Kuki Shinobu, claiming he was too stupid as well as he was being a traitor to their grace.

The Imposter had made a perfect drug and made it their natural scent, the drug paid off since many people who used to be depressed had turned more joyful... Or should I say high.

'Majority follows' . If a small bunch turned into a group and grew more and more, people would choose to go with the flow and begin to worship the Imposter just cause it's the one with the more people.

It was only natural that the Imposter would immediately become one of the most worshipped person in less than 10 days, even the puppet Raiden Shogun chosen not to obliterate them immediately with her polearm.

But alas, a mind could be darkened when given too much.

Greed will overtake your mind and soul and corrupt your well-being, The Imposter wanted more and more. Because this was the life that they deserve after living in complete poverty back in their home land.

Everything was going as planned

...

Except one. A person who looked like any other civilian among the sea of crowds stared at the Imposter with curious and worried eyes.

And the Imposter stared back at them as well.

For a moment it seemed like their worlds came to a stop, the crowds cheering and roaring all began to go silent in their ear's.

The other who stared in pure innocent eyes, being the complete opposite of the Imposter. How could such person have a comfortable presence? The crowd must've thought the loving and warm feeling came from the Imposter, but the source of it all was just right beside you.

Pure and caring eyes that looked over at every fiber and piece of your body with such gentleness, if someone went to hell but saw those eyes, those damn eyes. They would brag about seeing heaven before them in real life.

Anyone could fall for them in a moment, but not the Imposter. Not them, they felt disgusted as the person stared at them with those putrid eyes, they hated the nauseating feeling in their stomach the more they stared at them.

But it's okay. Since every necessary situation is planned before hand, if this person was going to become a thorn, best to cut it clean off the stem right?

【Warning!! Your fate is being realized! Number of threats approaching: 4】

死亡

'Your fate is being realized?' you stared at the text typed out by the system plastered on the blue screen making your eyes slightly twitch.

You were just trying to get a closer look at their 'grace's appearance but it felt a bit off, why did they stared at you like you had just done the biggest crime? The uncomfortable vibe was unbearable so you broke eye contact with them to avoid further awkwardness.

'Sheesh, better hope I'm not in their bad side, the guards are already a pain in the ass' You complained inside your head to relieve some weight off your shoulders, it wasn't your goal to get more enemies than you already do... Cough mondstadt...

But back to the message from the system that was still flashing across your face, what confused you to the brim was the sentence 'number of threats approaching': 4

Was it more monsters? Or maybe some people from mondstat already caught up to you...You shivered greatly at the thought of facing the acting grand master again, but also another topic popped up inside your head.

What could diluc be doing?

Before you were teleported, you swore you heard him scream 'Your grace' at you but you brushed it off thinking it was just some kind of weird respect name to make up from the trauma he had kindly given, but now at some coincidence there was a person at a large platform named 'Their grace'.

You thought this was just an ordinary reincarnation.. But its likely it's not anymore.

Getting manhunted for no reason, abnormal cult like mannerisms between the people, the system calling you some sort of 'God' and a completely new character you have never seen before in the main storyline of genshin impact.

As you listed down the numerous unusual casualties that had happened, the corner of your eye grasped something strange—then your eyes widened immediately and grasped the dendro vision dangling on your hip.

It was flickering.

Your vision was flickering, there would be a beautiful viridescent color then it would turn a dull grey.

You didn't have a single idea why this was happening, in the lore of genshin; all visions would turn a Grey hue when it's owner dies, but you were far from being dead. You dont feel anything strange courisng through your body and felt healthier than ever

You took a deep breath, going over to focus your energy into the core of your body to try and summon your personal companion, Taube.

Your eyes expected the same soft and snow white feathers the Dove was covered in like last time, but to your suprise Taube changed.

It's feathers weren't so bright and snow white anymore, but a dark and deep shade of black covered it from head to toe like some sort of virus.

What happened to it? Was it because your vision was flickering and that's why Taube looked so exhausted and famished?

Concern washed over your body along with dread for the poor bird, however just as you tried to puzzle more and more of the clues given to you, a new message appeared from the system.

【Would you like to transport back to Earth? System 444 has sensed great amount's of errors on the story

Yes — No】

Everything felt like it was going too fast.

You stared bewildered by the sudden offer, why now at all times? Isn't this a bit rushed? Was the errors the clues you picked up on?

There was already too much on your plate with the warning of threats, your personal companion dying, and your vision beginning to fade.

Million's of questions flooded your head and your breath began to quicken, your chest heaved up and down greatly as well as deep panting coming out of your mouth. Since when have you felt your clothes grasping your body tightly? Breathing is becoming harder and harder by the second.. Every attempt to calm yourself down failed miserably

Genshin Impact was a game you truly did enjoy, but now you felt nothing but dread over the past few days even up until now. You would always fantasize about meeting all your favorite characters in the story, but having to go through all the pain was something you can't handle.

Your hand trembled with anxiousness with your fingertip drifting on the glowing blue screen barley inches away from pressing it.

But just as you were going to press 'Yes', someone's hand heaved your wrist tightly and hauled you back from the sea of people.

The back of your head hitted on something soft yet also hard.. Like someone's body? With a slight groan you fluttered your eyes back open deciding to gaze up on who dragged you here and interrupted you at the most important things.

【The god of wind is looking at you】

Another message from the system appeared in which it didn't even took you less than a second to realize who's body your head hitted.

Venti looked at the blackened dove resting on your arms then made his way up to your face. He gave you a smile, intending it to be soft and comfortable but only came out as creepy and nerving making you tremble at the God.

"What a lovely dove."

You thought he was talking about your personal companion, but why did it felt like he was talking about you?

Venti never once broke eye contact making the atmosphere more and more unbearable by every passing minute.

You tried to speak but only silence left your mouth for you couldn't think of much to say to the anemo god.

'This is so awkward...'

In your perspective, Venti must have been feeling awkward just like you but the truth is far from that, he instead was still captivated and mesmerized by your appearance. If Venti were to spend the whole day staring he would absolutely do so without a second thought.

But now another text was delivered to you from the system reading; 【The god of Contracts is looking at you】

Okay now that was just too obvious for even yourself. Your (color) eyes scanned the surrounding area till you spotted the brunette man you were looking for.

Zhongli sat at a stone table by himself while he drank his siganture tea on the jade cup. The two of you made eye contact with each other from afar, from a third person's view it was just some normal eye to eye interaction.

However this made your skin crawl by how predatory Zhongli's pupils looked at you only, as if he was about to grab you by the neck in any given moment—Like a dragon circling it's prey by using its gaze and body alone to suck the life out of the poor victim.

And that poor victim just so happened to be you! Seriously when will you break free from all these chaotic situations?

You averted your eyes from him but unconsciously began to fidget with the hem of your sleeves since it was a personal habit of yours to do so whenever you felt an uncomfortable vibe. Your arms then hugged the dove; Taube, closer towards your chest for comfort and a bit of security.

'I wanna leave...'

Venti Pov

'How strange, That pesky lizard really can't keep his eyes off what's mine'

I had been waiting centuries for your return dear grace, but now the wind had finally reunited me with you! yet the geo god dare stand in my way?

A small wind vortex began to emerge out of my palm as the winds began to pick up around us. (Name) slightly tumbled by the sheer power but I acted quickly and catched them tightly by the waist, Yet the feeling of their body around my hand caught me slightly off guard

Have they always been this delicate and soft? Their skin felt so warm around my hand, I've almost forgotten how you felt in my arms dear grace, but not to worry

I won't ever let you go now

Your Pov

'What have I gotten myself into...'

The wind began to pick up for no reason so I slightly tripped on my feet, yet venti catched me so damn fast!?

I'm pretty thankful for the save but... Don't you think you're holding onto me way too tight? The atmosphere wasn't helping at all even though venti and zhongli were a good distance away from each other! Dear God help me!

I'll have to turn to my one and only savior now.

'Psst! System? Help me!' I mentally said to myself hoping to see the familiar glowing sapphire screen appear like usual, but to my suprise it was completely silent! Did that fucker ghost me!?

'Hey! Hey! You there? Please help me out here!' I begged silently praying that my voice could be heard by the system once again, ever since I've met the knights of favonius everything was turning out strange and weird for me

Speaking of knights of favonius, where were they? Surely they could've just gave up on me right

!

Right?...

I failed to notice that zhongli had already appeared infront of Venti with his arms crossed, his expression seemed calm yet the presence and pressure he gave off definitely was the opposite of calm!

The two bickered back and forth with malice but I was busy adjusting my thoughts on what to do now.

Many footsteps reached my ears so I turned to look what the noise was about but immediately regretted it and turned my head back once I saw a familiar blonde woman.

'Jean! What the hell!? How did she get here along with the other knights'

My expression paled up as well as my hand unconsciously going over to my mouth to cover it 'Shit! Shit! Shit!'

Please tell me they hadn't notice me yet! Maybe If I pretend I'm another person.. No you idiot that won't work!

Panic surged through my bones along with millions of thoughts and plans to avoid those people at all costs, currently from a distance the people present were Jean, Amber and Kaeya.

Yet no Diluc in sight though.. I wonder what could've happened to him? You hoped he isn't trying to hunt you down anymore too.

...

The knights of favonius couldn't have possibly.. No I shouldn't think too much on that nor jinx it, they wouldn't go as far as killing their own people right?

I hope he's okay.

Just then the system appeared before me once again, it made me jolt slightly but I composed myself quick enough to read it's information

【The false god is looking at you】

'The false god?' I felt unfamiliar with who that was, could it be furina? But I don't see her anywhere along with the other Fontaine characters.

I turned my head to look behind me and saw only the large and bustling crowd so it was pretty difficult to distinguish who the system was talking about.

Before I knew it I was swooped away by the mob separating me from Venti and Zhongli who hadn't yet noticed since both men were focused on arguing with one another

But that's when my eye caught something, a familiar game mechanic in genshin impact I frequently saw in quests or puzzles; The golden trail

I stared at the twinkling golden path in amazement, it was prettier than I had imagined! I letted Taube go back into my vision so that it could rest for the time being.

My legs hurriedly moved on their own as if a siren had come and sang to serenade the people, yet I was the only one attracted to it. Each step I took, the world around me continues to fall silent with the people fading into nothing but air

One, Two, Three.. Four.

As I took my final step the golden trail also vanished, I raised my head up to stare at the only remaining thing around me, and it was the person I saw on the stage earlier

What was their name again? Oh right. 'Their grace'

I curiously turned my head around the area, however I confirmed that only two of us were left alone. My eyes moved on their own and stared at Their grace's appearance from top to the very bottom.

It was strange how similar yet different we looked from one another, if someone were to look at both of us we would be mistaken as twins.

"Who are you?" Their grace asked me with a calm voice, they had a relaxed pose with both of their hands behind their backs as well as their head slightly tilted to the side

"(Name), you must be that grace person from the stage earlier, right?" I asked them taking a step closer "That's right" Their grace confirmed my question and didn't move away from me, even motioning to come closer to them.

I didn't see anything wrong when their grace motioned me to come closer. Just as I was about to take another step forward, a sudden message from the system stopped me in my tracks

【Would you like to transport back to Earth? System 444 has sensed great amount's of errors on the story

Yes — No】

It was the same message from back then when I was inside the crowd, I was unable to choose since I had gotten distracted by something else. Even so, the answer should be obvious is it not?

Without wasting another second I clicked the 'Yes' option on the screen, the screen very soon collapsed into pieces and dispersed on the ground. Their grace stared at me with curiosity, wondering on why I suddenly halted my movements

"Is something the matter?" Their grace asked me once again, I shook my head silently and waited for something to happen, for example teleporting back to my world.

Minutes passed by as a awkward atmosphere surrounded me and their grace putting me in a uncomfortable position.

It must've been strange to see me randomly stare and click at the air. Their grace on the other hand didn't seem to look bothered at all, infact they just continued to stare at you while you waited to get transferred back to your world like what the system had said.

But that didn't happen

【Would you like to transport back to Earth? System 444 has sensed great amount's of errors on the story

Yes — No】

The message appeared once again which left me confused, I clicked the yes option like last time but it refused to work. I looked back at their grace and saw them smiling at me strangely

"Why don't you try to press no?"

My breath hitched at what they had just blurted out, Could their grace see the system too? Why won't the Yes option work?!

I was so lost in thought that my eye didn't catch Their grace stealthily walking over and pressing the 'No' option on the screen

This one move made me scream and swat their hand away from the system. I blinked in suprise, my jaw dropping a bit since their grace is actually able to see the system

"What— How—"

"Did you really think you could leave so easily?" Their grace's tone shifted drastically, it was no longer warm and calm but cold and stoic towards me. Their tone clearly filled with annoyance, as if they had been keeping it all in them all this time.

I was then again taken back by the sudden hostility, only being able to awkwardly rub my temples "What do you mean?" I said not knowing how to respond to that

Their grace narrowed down their eye's and did a circular motion around me like a animal ready to pounce on its prey without any hesitation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat with my fists balled up tightly "Explain what are you doing." I demanded to them, scowling as their grace finally put a stop on their movements around me.

"Let's have one final chat."

2nd Pov

"That message from the system you received was supposed to work indeed" Their grace started off with a mischievous tone while you only glared from the sideline's

Their grace looked at you smug, deciding to continue on "But in the very last minute, your fate had changed itself. Originally you were destined to teleport back to your home and live a happily ever after, while the characters here continue to suffer from your abandonment." Their grace keen fingertips scraped their own cheek slowly yet roughly.

Their eyes only remained on you while a stream of blood dripped from their jaw to the ground. "You can't escape from here, not without my help." Their grace reached out their own bloodied hand towards you "I'll bring you back from your old world, it will be painful but you want to go back home right?"

You stared at their hand skeptical but also hesitant "How could I trust you with this?" You can't just blindly agree to something so mysterious, you aren't dumb and would just agree to anything without knowing more information "You have no other option yes?" Their grace retorted back at you

You stared down on the ground for a good minute and sighed. Returning back home is your goal after all, but this deal felt so shady however your leads on going home were 0. Having no other options left you finally gave a slight nod, showing that you've accepted their proposal "All right."

TORTURE WARNING

How long has it been exactly?

Your brain, once a vibrant organ, now felt like a pulpy, useless mass. A torrent of crimson, thick and viscous, spilled from the gaping wound in your stomach, painting the ground a macabre landscape. The metallic tang of blood filled your nostrils, a sickeningly sweet aroma that clung to the air. The once-bright fabric of your shirt was now a canvas of crimson, the blood soaking through to the skin beneath. The world blurred around the edges, a hazy kaleidoscope of red and gold as your consciousness slipped away.

Fearful and pleading eyes stared back at their grace's cold and wicked ones, not an ounce of remorse present in them

Their eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine. "Don't look at me like that," they hissed, their voice dripping with malice and disgust. The dagger, its blade rusted and pitted, gleamed menacingly in the dim light, a cruel mockery of a weapon. They pressed the tip against your thigh, the cold metal biting into your skin. The blade sliced through your flesh, a searing pain that ripped through your body, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. They savored the sound of your gasp, the way your body flinched with each agonizing inch of the blade's descent. Panic clawed at your throat, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of fear.

You struggled to escape from the torment, to run off like you had always done and expect this all to be a simple nightmare, but it was none of that, You could only trickle fresh droplets of salty tears out your eyes down to your cheeks.

Your cries were raw, desperate. A guttural symphony of pain and fear that echoed through the confined space. You begged for mercy, your words tumbling out in a frantic torrent. "Please, stop! I don't understand!" But did they listen? No. Their faces, blank and unreadable, offered no solace, no hint of compassion. You were a mere object in their hands, a plaything in their cruel game. The why of it all, the reason for this agonizing torment, remained a maddening mystery, a cruel riddle you were powerless to solve.

Their grace sloppily made a deep cut on your warm flesh, it was obvious that they had little to no experience on how to properly use or even wield a knife, but their grace's lack of skill only brought more discomfort and tears to roll down your face, since it opened more wounds than it should have.

Their grace, a cruel mockery of the word, plunged their fingers into the gaping wound on your thigh. The flesh tore, a sickening ripping sound that echoed in the confined space. You screamed, a primal, guttural cry that tore from your throat, but it was lost in the maelstrom of your own agony. Their fingers, calloused and cold, delved deeper, tearing through muscle and sinew, widening the wound until it gaped open like a hungry maw. The raw, exposed flesh pulsed with a throbbing pain, a crimson wellspring that seemed to beckon them further. With a sickening crunch, their fingers disappeared into the cavity, disappearing into the depths of your ravaged flesh.

Your breath hitched, a ragged gasp that tore from your lungs, and your nose erupted in a violent, uncontrolled sneeze. Your chest heaved, each inhale a desperate struggle for air, your lungs burning with the effort. Your voice, raw and hoarse, refused to obey your commands. A strangled croak escaped your lips, a pathetic whisper in the face of your mounting terror. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat that threatened to burst through your chest. A metallic tang filled your mouth, the taste of your own terror, a bitter, metallic aftertaste that lingered on your tongue. You felt yourself slipping, the edges of your consciousness blurring, the world fading into a dizzying kaleidoscope of pain and fear.

You swore to yourself that the inside of your throat was already gushing out with blood, a mettalic tang filling your mouth, after all, since you kept abusing it, this action resulted in making you unable to speak temporarily for the time being.

While you were dazed out on trying to subdue the pain inside your throat, Their grace's bloodied hand roughly grabbed you by the cheek and made you face them eye to eye.

"This is what you call a god? A pathetic excuse to even have this little thing"

They tapped repeatedly on the dendro vision dangling on the side of your waist, it's emerald glow taunting the two. you felt like you've just been thrown into the sea, too exhausted and famished after pushing your body to the limits, resulting to being unable to pull off a singular move or even get away from them.

"Even that redhead had made it quite farther than you."

Their grace abruptly blurted out to themselves, yet you heard it. You heard it vividly, the news of a red head meeting the same fate as you made you gradually lift your head to look at them "W— What do you mean?..." your vocals stung with every word you uttered out, but not as much as how your stomach dropped when beginning to realize who they meant.

But their grace only shook you off like nothing, ignoring to answer the question you desperately wanted. They swiftly choose to shift back on the main track they had planned much earlier.

"If you don't want to scream anymore, then I'll just cut this thing off" Their grace forcefully opened your mouth using their bloodied fingers, spreading it wide enough to grab your tounge harshly.

You struggled greatly to try and strain away from their grace's stiff grip, unfortunately for you though your body had already neared it's limit making it seem as if it was almost impossible to overpower their grace by now

But don't think you cant do crap. If you're going to die, you're gonna make this fucker suffer too.

Gathering your last remaining strength you bit down hard on their grace's fingers, hard enough to draw blood and even make contact with the flesh and bone. You applied even more force by each second, your canine teeth anchoring itself on their skin so that they won't be able to pull you off.

This only made their grace scream in agony for they felt the bone's deep inside their fingers beginning to break by the sole pressure and force, their grace then began attempting to shove your head away and let their fingers break free before it was too late.

"H—Hah..argh! A.. AHHHH!" A blood curling scream came out of Their grace's mouth seeing as 3 of their fingers had been bitten and ripped off clean, only leaving a massive surge of blood on their hand as a remnant

You spat out each finger on the ground and coughed in disgust, never once have you tasted that much blood before, it was nauseating to the stomach.

You swallowed down the incoming puke that was about to come out, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling going on inside your head.

The metallic taste lingered on your tounge with a stronger aftermath, your lips now tainted a deep shade of red from the blood with some of it dripping out from your mouth.

But their grace was quick to recover from the pain, they messily dug into their pocket and took out the hydrogen peroxide they had been secretly storing just for this moment incase you decided to fight back.

They popped it open and dumped the whole bottle's liquid onto your open wound, using their other hand that still had fingers to dig it deep inside and all around the flesh.

The insides of your flesh began to swell with the amount of things that had been entering, you tried suppressing the incoming screaming since it just worsens your throats current condition.

Nonetheless you failed and let out a holler in agony and pure discomfort, your body convulsing wildly as you brought your thigh closer to your chest for comfort. Hissing loudly since you felt the stinging sensation spread throughout every limb.

"You should've just gave up..." Their grace groggily stood up from the floor while shakily holding their wounded hand, even when you had already experiencing enough pain cause by them, Their grace simply thought it wasn't enough to pay for what you had done.

They bared their teeth at you, feeling a strong flame of hatred ignite in their heart, and so, without hesitating any longer their grace delivered a rough kick towards your lower abdomen making you throw up droplets of blood knocking the daylights out of your vision.

Brutal attacks continued to come in your way without a stop, as a way to protect yourself you curled yourself up into a ball with both of your hands defending your head from the assaults.

Their grace huffed heavily, exerting too much energy out of their body was bad for their own health as it effected the way they could even stand correctly.

Their grace stumbled slightly on their feet, the feeling of immense pain being foreign to them since the day they had become a false god not even a single scratch was laid on their fragile body, the reason being that there would be over 20+ characters guarding their grace's every movement

"Y— You idiot. . . Don't you want to get home? I'm doing you a huge favor yet you do this to me!? " Their grace's tone was laced with disbelief and fury since they had believed what they were doing was for the best.

You opened your mouth to protest what their grace declared so boldly whilst also hugging your stomach tightly from the previous strike, but to your suprise only inaudible and strained sounds left your tounge, not a single word was understood.

Your mouth gaped in realization before starting to slowly massage your throat, only realizing now how sore and painful it was to you.

Their grace's expression shifted from grimace to pure souless, That strange stare they gave off just screamed chaos in your point of view. "You wanted to know what happened to that redhead? Right?" They abruptly brought the topic out of the blue.

A bad feeling crept up to your stomach making you anxious about the answer their grace would give, nevertheless curiosity got the better of you, and at last, after a long moment of pondering what to do, you just slowly nodded your head to theirs grace's question.

Their grace felt overjoyed and sadistic by your answer, imagining in their mind what expression you'll make when they deliver the bad news to you.

"I invited over a blonde woman to inazuma along with some of her companions, if I recall she was the leader of something...." Their grace trailed off breaking eye contact with you to look at the non— existing sky, completely unaware of the horrified look on your face as a vivid memory of Jean's face flashed across your mind.

You began to have goosebumps at just the thought of having to deal with her again, even if your previous encounter was managed by the system alone.

Now that you've thought about it, where was the system now? It's been a long while since you've received their last message.

You bit back your lip, 'Settings' you said inside your head, hoping that the system hadn't dissapered and abandon you yet again.

Thankfully the system had not went away yet! It appeared right infront of you like usual.. Except it carried a odd message this time.

【Your fate has been realized, 4:44】

It's that fate thing again, just earlier the message had been mentioning your fate many times. But now besides it was a number... A number that kept decreasing by every second.

'A timer? But what for?' the more you asked yourself questions, the more none of them were answered and only left you with confusion.

Your (e/c) gazed back at their grace who smiled maliciously "Ah yes how could I forget?" they turned their heel and strutted towards you catching you off guard, you attempted to move away from their grace so that some distance could be made, however your bodies current condition flied over your mind leaving you almost paralyzed now.

You could only peer at the other persons with difficulty, bracing yourself mentally for whatever bullshit they had to say

But something was off, you knew that their grace was probably able to see the system. Yet this one message looked like only you could see it now.

Above their grace's head also consisted of a timer similar to your's 【6:66】. Only about two minutes longer than yours...

Your inner monolouge was soon cut short by a voice "I've brought a gift for you" Their grace said in a puzzling tone that left you with mixed thoughts.

Their grace proceeded to shove their hands into their coats pocket to show you what that little 'gift' was.

A vision, an golden jeweled amulet that allows the user to resonate with the seven elements freely. Most visions would consist of a vibrant color followed by the elements symbol

But in this case, the vibrant color was nowhere to be seen on the amulet. Only possessing a dull Grey color, similar to yours that was continously flashing from a vibrant viridescent color to a dull Grey one.

You observed the jewel closely, starting to dig through the countless events that occurred today.

Impatient by how long you took, their grace opened their mouth yet again "The blonde woman gave this to me as a welcoming gift, she got this from—"

"Diluc's dead body." You cutted them off this time, your eyes glued to the floor since everything just went blank at that exact moment.

You had mixed signals towards the redhead, he indeed attempted to take your life for the sake of what he had believed but stopped at the very last moment. Diluc did realize soon enough, however the trauma already left a mark inside your mental health making you uncomfortable whenever he was brought up.

Yet you couldn't bring yourself to hate him fully yet, only wanting to avoid the man if possible. But not like that, you never wished for diluc to permanently disappear!

It only took a heartbeat for him to go down on one knee in your presence, you couldn't lie to yourself since you felt conflicted by how fast diluc ultimately made up his mind without any hesitation.

Besides all that, he was still a character you liked before even getting transported here. So just imagine if diluc hadn't met you? He would still be alive to this moment.

Countless of things surfaced up ever since you've arrived. What you thought was the same Genshin Impact you loved and adored in the beginning, was far more twisted than you expected it to be only after staying for a few days.

'How could i always mess everything up? Did some curse latch itself onto my soul so that it could only bring chaos to those around me?' The system may have called you a 'god' or creator of this place, however you think the complete opposite.

Since you thought yourself as nothing but a thorn on Teyvat's side by now.

"Ha.. Haha... Hahahaha!" You clawed out your cheeks using the sharp edges of your nails, blood flowed down as well as fresh salty tears. The two fluids mixed together soiling your cheeks once more.

It stung really damn hard, but the pain never even registered onto your mind by how messed up your mind was at this point. Who would be still sane after going through what you went in this world? It's a miracle you managed to even compose yourself after dying.

You covered your mouth with both hands, the feeling of dread getting replaced with utter disgust. Their grace stared at the pitiful scene with a poker-face, not even fazed by the slightest.

This moment was your breaking point now.

【The system advises you to not do anything stupid! 】

【The system advises you to not do anything stupid! 】

【The system advises you to not do— 】

"Stop it." Your abrupt voice made their grace quirk a brow "What?" They placed back the Grey vision in their pocket to listen in on what you had to say

"I don't know what I've done for you to put me in this shit hole." You slammed your fist down on the floor making a loud bang You did it so that you could atleast lift your body even by the slightest.

"But I could careless on what would happen now." You stated in such a determined tone that their grace themselves felt off, having to then swiftly wield out their weapon, pointing it inches away from your neck.

"What are you staring at?" Their grace questioned raising a brow at your sudden burst of will

【1:00】

"Your horrendous face"

【20 seconds】

"Fuck you."

¿?

A variety of distinct and unique people crowded over a small wooden stadium built for a person who they deeply admired.

Yet that special person was nowhere to be seen. Countless witnesses have come forward to confess that they had last seen the individual accompanying a person with (h/c) locks and (e/c) eye's

Among the crowd owned two distinct figures, one of a blonde male with a long braided hair, the other floating beside the male with her appearance as a small child.

Aether and Paimon had just recently arrived at the nation of electro;Inazuma. in addition to find the Electro archon and ask her a series of questions.

Paimon floated around then took a halt "Traveler look! It's Zhongli and Venti!" She piped up, a clear voice of excitement to see the two familiar men they had encountered in their previous journeys

Aether turned his head to also take a peek at the situation. Zhongli and Venti walked side by side looking obviously worried about something, despite that, the two continued to bicker with each other stating that it was the others fault that (Name) got away.

The word (Name) left Aether intrigued, since it was the very same name as the creator or God that amber disclosed to them back in mondstat.

Aether only observed the situation quietly like he had always done, letting paimon do the talking for him since he was still unfamiliar with Teyvat's distinctive language.

"Zhongli! Venti! What brings you two here?" Paimon called out to them catching the two men's attention. Venti gave her a small wave while Zhongli maintained a humble expression

"We had been invited over via letter" Zhongli explained his situation to the two traveler's, Venti nodding his head since he also had the exact same reason "Ah yes, could I ask you two if you had seen a person with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes?" Venti questioned them, Aether crossed his arms together already putting two and two together.

'Hm, I should find that (Name) person quickly... They should know something about my sister' Aether had already began to devise a plan on meeting (Name) whatever it takes, he figured that they couldn't have gone too far if Venti and Zhongli are just recently looking for them.

Aether glanced back at paimon and the two men, Paimon blabbered about some random topic that kept Zhongli and Venti at bay. He used this opportunity to try and strain away from the group without anyone noticing his disappearance.

'I should take a look around... (Name) probably had left some traces' Aether took one last deep breath and dived right back into the chaotic crowd, his eyes scanned the area to find anything out of place or strange.

The blond only continued to do so for about a short while till he decided to give up, finding nothing else but only dead ends to his search. It wasn't like he was expecting much either, he had only heard tales and stories about the individual (Name). Stories that had come from the townsfolk if not even his own trusted companions.

With a heavy heart filled with dissapointment, Aether resolved the case as a dead end with no clues nor leads, He'll just have to wait for something that could possibly lead him towards (Name)'s whereabouts.

"I'll return to Paimon and the others.." Aether mumbled to himself quietly, stretching his arms up high till he heard a small 'pop!'.

You know what else popped?

A dead body with (h/c) locks, their eyes shutted tight while their neck had a massive slash mark, blood seeped out of their wounded neck staining the stage their body fell on. The stage that was right infront of every audience to see.

"W—What is that!?!?"

"S—S—Someone help!!"

"Oh my archon's it's r—real!!"

Screams of terror engulfed the whole area with bystanders backing away from the body which oozed out a metallic crimson liquid, yet red wasnt the only liquid that seeped through their body.

A golden fluid mixed through with the crimson one, producing a beautiful yet horrid scene.

Even though their body was dead, one last message appeared that none of the audience members could see. 【You are one step away from successfully reincarnating.】

All civilians, archon's, and higher leagues stared at the corpse in pure disturbance, none daring to utter a single word as silence filled the area in mere seconds.

"Y—Your grace?" One voice came up, the bards voice trembled with fear like everyone else. Many heads turned towards Venti as realization finally kicked in.

That lifeless corpse that stained the wooden floors with their odd blood, that person who the guards recently chased down.

'The one I've been looking for.. Yet how did it turn out like this?' Aether checked upon the enormous crowd that had been formed, his eyes stalking on whoever had done this;

On whoever ruined his chance on finally receiving answers to this world.

His eyes scanned the area and halted at a distinct figure in the distance, their hands were wounded up greatly, Next to them laid a suspiciously bloodied weapon as the person had a look of anxiety washing over them, scurrying to hide it inside their clothes so that no one could see.

Of course, Aether wasn't one to be oblivious, he was completely aware of things and knew how to read a room, and this person had guilt written all over their face.

Aether took a step forward, determined to investigate this matter and find out what had truly happened to his creator.

But just before he could even reach the a large explosion erupted from the crowd, luckily none seemed to be injured by the sudden attack.

Aether turned his head to the noise, analyzing who or even what had caused it, however he immediately froze in place when he saw the situation

A old man vs a drunk bard

Oh archon's what were those idiots doing!

【Rip Bozo】

"Zhongli... If only you hadn't been in my way, my dear creator would be standing by my side right now!" Venti called out the other man's 'mistake' with an broken yell, yet Zhongli's expression remained a cool and humble manner... Well outside that is.

Inside the man's even more devastated than Venti, his heart shattered into small pieces, refusing to believe that his creator is very much gone from this world. Zhongli wanted to find out who did such a disgraceful and atrocious act to his god, his god that he worshipped for centuries before his retirement as a former archon. Even know as liyue had become a independent country, he continued to pray for his God to return in their glory once again.

The skies faded dark as clouds formed and poured down droplets of water onto the remaining 3 men who stood like it was going to result in a face off

"Hey you three!" a high pitched scream snapped them all out of the weighing tension, Paimon breathed heavily, placing her small hand on the pit of her stomach whilst looking exhausted "You all left Paimon alone! And what are you guys planning to do!" Paimon stomped her foot in the air out of pure frustration, Zhongli and Venti had forgotten that they were still talking with Paimon earlier and just abruptly left.

The three exchanged confused glances with each other, hesitating on what to do now. Aether was first to move, guiding the two men away from each other so that they won't try and rip each other to shreds

"Let's all calm down now shall we? We have bigger matters to face" Aether spoke up, his voice slightly calming down the others rage.

There was all too much going on right now, first it was the abrupt death of their creator, next was their 'grace' acting audibly suspicious with blood stained in their hands looking mortified. Now two archon's were about to bring destruction without being aware of their surroundings.

Aether himself felt frustrated over the situation, yet he never let his emotions get to him now. "I know you're all confused and angry right now. But bringing more chaos won't fix the situation!" He exclaimed loud and clear.

Though he himself couldn't deny the frustration boiling inside his heart, Aether didn't want the two archon's going back and forth with each other.

"Now if you just follow my lea— ugh!" Aether tumbled backwards by a sudden Shockwave erupting from below, making him land on his behind.

Then, Paimon flipped backwards in the air, screeching out her lungs as thunder striked all over the area around them which almost electrocuted paimon to death. "Eek! What in the... Paimon almost got..!" Paimon mumbled to herself in a startled voice, she covered her ears to block out the rest of the thunderous sounds, fleeing to aether for safety.

"What's happening!?" Aether uttered alarmed by the whole ordeal, those events that were shown definitely weren't something that came straight from mother nature, no, it came from something big

Worried for his companions, Aether spun his head around to quickly scout the two men who were just by his side.

"I will have order!"

"Time for take off!"

Venti and Zhongli was kept at bay by an overwhelming horde of monsters that rallied up and destroy anything on sight, the usual hostile enemies became even more aggressive by charging at anything on sight, whether it's a random civilian, animal, or even their very own comrades, nobody was safe from mass destruction.

Vision holders and the Tenryou Commission all fought back against the abyss, Roars of anguish and dismay covered the land of eternity as civilians ran for their lives.

Aether held back as much as he could, his heart accelerating quickly when adrenaline coursed through his veins sharpening his instincts and speed. But even as he gave it his all, the unknown force pushed back even harder, sending out a endless wave of troups to finish all of them off.

Oh but you think inazuma had only suffered?

Jean the acting grand master was forced to evacuate inazuma and back to mondstat to provide support and protection over its citizens against the destructive wrath of Dvalin along with hilichurls attempting to break into the city walls.

Liyue had no problems with fighting against the abyss, yet even so, the natural terrain brought a heavy toll on the citizens. There would be frequent tsunamis rushing over to destroy the precious country only to be stopped over and over again. Landslides and random boulders would roll down from the cliffs crushing anything below it.

Xiao, one of Zhongli's most closest adeptus pushed himself to the limit, stopping at no one to protect the precious land Morax had shoulder before retiring. Even so, having to witness innocent lives get taken from unnatural events triggered a past memory Xiao wished to forget in his mind.

Teyvat's shield slowly began to crumble, it's own terrain destroying the people who once roamed around the land peacefully only to meet a cruel end.

Their grace sat beside your lifeless body watching the chaos unfold with empty voided eyes. Memories flooded into their head, recounting how your body falled to the ground after they slashed your chest with their sword, penetrating the heart and lungs thoroughly.

Their grace knew it won't be long till they were going to succumb to deaths arms, a noose slowly wrapping itself around their neck, drowning them in a endless wave of suffocation. A slow and painful death awaited on their door step, and they could do nothing to stop it

Footsteps followed behind their grace along with a deafening sound of a blade dragging itself, bolts of electricity floated in the air as the tension began to thicken.

"Commiting a grave fault by taking part of the creators death, Deceiving the people of Inazuma to worship an inferior being like you." a cold and stoic voice hissed, the tip of an Amethyst colored blade rested on their grace's shoulder, only inches away from the neck.

"That would also include you, Raiden Shogun." Their grace stayed stiff in the position they were in, even in such times, they could only boldly talk to the puppet.

Raiden Shogun didn't deny the daring accusation, they too were deceived by their grace's act. "Yet you're aware, that your fate is still the same?"

Their grace looked up.

".. Yes."

【5 seconds】

Though I couldn't lie to myself, I felt afraid and intimidated by the single thought of dying. People disputed alot of events that could happen after you die. Maybe my soul will be lifted and be taken to the heavens.. Or hell. Would I get reincarnated again instead? But the sound of having to die again and again, only to live a life of misery sounds.. Frustrating.

Life is strange.

You're able to do everything, yet also can't. My fate is sealed to always die, from my previous life to this one.

The blade had gone cold, it's sharp edges running through the first layer of my skin down to the very last, slashing through the warm flesh with little to no difficulty. Such precision could only be achieved if the user had done this countless of times already.

Raiden's expression kept neutral, stoic and chilling eyes watching my own lifeless body fall to the ground with a stream of blood tainting the wooden floor.

...!

"Gah!... Ugh.. Ha.. Ha.."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing inside your ears. You jolted upright in bed, sheets tangled around your legs, and a cold sweat slicked your skin. Every muscle in your body throbbed with adrenaline. Your gaze darted around the room, (e/c) eyes wide and unfocused, struggling to grasp the chaotic jumble of memories that flooded your mind.

You fixate your eyes over to the surrounding area in a frenzy, noticing how the area consists of a small yet simple apartment complex with modern furnishings and interior.

Throwing the sheets that wrapped around your lower body aside, a careful yet thorough inspection began incase of any injuries you had sustained or carried.

Oddly enough, your body was completely unmarked. No bruises, no scratches, nothing. But a faint, persistent sting remained, like a phantom sensation, as if you'd just been choked.

The sting wasn't incredibly tackling to handle nor was it painless, it felt more like a prick..? Though you were unable to recall any information, memories, on what had happened, you vividly remember the important parts.

The devastating sensation of having your own neck slowly getting severed from your body, alone in a empty space with nothing but your own heart beat, slowly dying down as the cells in your body began to plumage.

A anxious scoff escaped your lips whereas your pupils started to shrink slowly. Your frigid hand trailed up onto your (h/c) locks, the icy feeling sending shivers down your spine.

"Was it all just a dream? No... No, no, no, no... It felt too real," you choked out, the words ragged and desperate. As you grappled with the impossible reality of what had transpired, a faint, dim light pulsed on your phone, lying across the bed like a beacon in the darkness.

It didn't take long till you finally acknowledge the strange light emitting from your phone which rested on a small table. Your brows scrunched together in confusion, wondering inside your mind on what that strange glimmer could be.

Deciding to seek out the answer for yourself, you hopped off the bed, your feet settling down on the cold wooden floor below, little by little you made your way to the small dark wooden table in a slow pace to investigate.

The sound of your footsteps halted once you were hovering in front of the oak table, you fidgeted and fumbled around with your fingertips, Why did you suddenly feel nervous? the light coming from your phone only continued to shine brightly, taunting your presence whilst also alluring your curiosity more and more as time passes by.

You inhaled a vast amount of air, the oxygen flowing through your nose and slipping into the lungs, after some short seconds, you exhaled out all of the air you ingested. With a more calm demeanor, you picked it up and held it tightly in your hands.

Your eyes locked onto the screen, watching as it began moving by itself, entering your home screen and scrolling past through apps. "What?... Why won't it.." you whispered lowly in confusion, attempting to gain control once again on your phone but only to fail everytime.

Frustration simmered as you fumbled with your phone, another failed attempt sending a wave of despair through you. Just as you were about to fling it to the ground in a fit of rage, a flurry of white feathers erupted in the air, catching you completely off guard. A pristine snow-white dove, its plumage immaculate, perched serenely on the windowsill, watching you with an unblinking gaze.

Your eyes locked onto the animal, a strange yet nostalgic feeling erupting deep inside your body. Where have you seen this dove before? And who the hell opened your window while you were away.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as an icy breeze swept through the window, its chilling touch making the hairs on your skin stand on end. You hugged your body, seeking comfort and warmth, while your teeth chattered uncontrollably. Having enough, you hopped of your bed, making your way through the window.

As you approached the windowsill, you noticed the dove had already begun to take flight. A strange wave of disappointment washed over you as you watched the graceful bird leave, its wings scattering feathers in its wake. One feather fluttered down, and you managed to catch it. Upon closer inspection, you saw that the feather not only had a cream base but was also streaked with subtle hints of (color)

"... What a weird bird"

You mumbled out, turning the feather around to further inspect it. The feather itself seemed perfect for a quill, making it more exotic.

Though not from afar, your device had a dim light twinkling on its screen, one moment it would light up the next it would turn black.

The glimmering subsided, replaced by a brief, stark display of binary numbers on the screen

" 01010111 01100101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 "

That was it's last's moment as the screen erupted in smoke, a foul and repulsive odor flowing throughout the small room. It only took you a small few seconds to comprehend the crisis.

You were going to quit playing games by now.

A/n: hey my skibbidi slicers, thank you so much for reading till 'the end' Of my first series on my blog!! This was kinda long lol, but I hope you all enjoyed!! I'll be sure to keep updates ^^

[sellenite]

cherry blossoms 03 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: oral (m! receiving, sloppy, deep-throat, face-fucking), praise kink (lightly), dracryphilia, Choso is rough but still sweet, friends to lovers word count: 3.3K notes: DIRECT CONTINUATION OF 02! I pulled a crazy editing day (and night lol) on this series, so if you read the original part 2 and are now confused reading this one I am so sorry 😭 I will link the post where I explained the rewrite here: 🤡 but I hope everyone enjoys 🫶 tags: @tojicvmslut @vampress7 @venusinx @mochipip @matchafroggies724 @sabo-has-my-heart @serra10 MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso whose lips parted in awe as he gazed down at you sitting on your knees before him. You had kissed your way down his torso sweetly, pulling up the hem of his t-shirt a little to press your lips against the bottom of his abs. He reveled in the softness of your lips as they explored more of his body, feeling like he was on cloud nine from all of the gentle attention you were giving him.

He watched you settle on the ground between his parted legs as he sat on the couch, the movie the two of you had put on long forgotten. You began to pull his sweatpants down his thighs and he thought for a moment that he shouldn’t feel so comfortable to be so exposed in front of you, to be so vulnerable. Yet, he had no reservations as he felt your delicate hands slowly remove his pants. When you asked him so sweetly if he trusted you, his answer was an obvious yes. He trusted you completely—with his mind, body, and soul—and he was ready to let you do whatever you wanted to him. And he could see the same tender affection he had for you reflected in your own eyes as you watched him, making sure he was comfortable every step of the way.

You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you lowered his pants more, revealing the heavy outline of his erection in his boxers, a dark stain of pre-cum already seeping through the fabric. He watched with curious, lustful eyes as you gingerly reached your hand out to stroke him over the material, feeling the thickness of his cock underneath your palm. He groaned low in his throat, his hips rolling a little as you teased him over his underwear, your hand lightly gripping his length as you gave it gentle strokes.

“Take them off… Please,” Choso begged with a light laugh, to which you returned with your own giggle and a nod. The need you felt for one another at this moment was palpable, yet the playful comfort of your relationship never faded. Choso lifted his hips as you tugged the waistband of his boxers down and they quickly joined his sweatpants around his ankles. His heavy cock sprang free the moment you lifted the material from his body, thick head standing upright against his stomach as it leaked. You blinked a few times as you took in the sight, almost intimidated as you registered how large he was.

virgin!Choso who saw your reaction and felt a moment of doubt, self-conscious fears suddenly racing through his mind. But then you took him so gently into your soft hands and that was enough to make his worries retreat. He let out a light gasp as he felt your hand wrap around his shaft, squeezing him so perfectly that it made his tip dribble even more. You took a moment to familiarize yourself with his cock, gently tracing the veins that ran over it and watching as the fluid started to spill down his pretty head.

His length was impressive, but what you found even more thrilling was how thick and veiny his shaft was. His skin was smooth to the touch underneath the pad of your thumb as you gingerly followed the prominent vein that spanned the underside of him. Immediately, he felt the difference between your hand and his; yours was so much smoother than his rough, calloused palms. Your touch was so delicate, yet so deliberate. Your thumb reached his head and you swiped over his drooling slit, causing his hips to twitch as he sucked in a breath, his keen eyes watching your every movement.

“You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be, Cho... And so pretty,” you giggled sweetly as you wet your lips with your tongue, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in your excitement. He didn’t quite understand why being “big” was a good thing, but he could hear the wonder in your voice and it made his chest swell with pride that you were pleased with him; and that you thought he was pretty.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, watching as your hand intimately explored his body. You smiled up at him, your pretty eyes creasing in the corners the way he loved so much, but they were darker with lust now. You used your palm to gently stroke over his head, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft as you moved your hand back down in a fist. You began to grip his length with a little more pressure, using his fluid to slowly stroke up and down. He moaned your name softly, his abs clenching as you pumped him steadily and his body became increasingly eager for more. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips as you inched your face closer to his throbbing length, holding the base of his shaft tightly in your grasp as you held his gaze.

“Let me make you feel good…” You said in a silken tone, and he watched, unblinking, as your soft lips drew closer to his flushed head.

virgin!Choso who let out a reflexive whimper as you stuck your tongue out to flick the point of your muscle delicately against the underside of his tip—teasing his frenulum. He let out a low moan as you kept teasing him like this, his body trembling lightly against the couch and his lips hanging open as his breathing became heavier. His cock twitched as he felt the wetness of your tongue working against his skin, playfully licking at all of the sensitive spots he didn't even realize he had. His hands shakily found your cheeks, his large palms tenderly cradling your face. You licked over his drooling head—collecting the faintly salted pre-cum that dripped from his slit—and hummed in satisfaction at his clean taste. The spit from your mouth leaked off of your tongue, slipping down his length messily as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You watched as he bit into his lip unconsciously, his eyes staring into yours with an intensity you had only ever seen on his face in battle, concentrating on your every move.

Choso could feel his brain practically melting over how hot the visual of you on your knees for him was. Your perfect, pretty face, your bright eyes, your soft, cherry-colored lips… You were so beautiful and sweet, yet so naughty, as he watched you work your tongue over his aching length—the contradiction making his head feel thick with lust. Seeing your pretty lips so glossy with spit and his pre-cum made his dick feel like it was about to burst at any second. He barely understood this feeling: the desire to want something, someone, so badly that he physically ached. But there you were, on your knees between his legs with your pretty mouth running up and down his cock… And he felt the urge to do things to you that he barely even understood.

He whimpered again and rolled his hips involuntarily as you swirled your tongue around his tip, the sensations driving him insane. He couldn’t help but start whining for you, and you hadn’t even put him properly in your mouth. But the way your warm, wet tongue teased him was enough for him to know that his hand would never come close to the amount of pleasure you could give him.

“Need more, please,” he begged softly, in his deep, gruff voice. His eyes were so dark with lust as he held your gaze, watching as your tongue lolled out to lick up his shaft on either side. He groaned low in his throat, his fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head as his touch grew unconsciously rougher.

“You’re so needy today, Cho,” you teased him with a smile before pressing your lips lightly to his tip. But you were feeling the same urge. You were so turned on from watching and feeling how responsive he was to your touch; you couldn’t help but want to give him more, to be the one to make him feel pleasure he had never experienced before.

virgin!Choso who was about to respond to your teasing when your mouth suddenly wrapped around the head of his cock—and any cohesive thought in his brain was obliterated. Choso let out a husky groan and pushed himself back into the couch cushions as he felt your lips form a tight ring around his tip, gently moving up and down over his ridge. His hips stuttered up as you sucked him and he watched you—utterly entranced—with heavy eyes and flushed cheeks. He could feel your tongue still flicking against his frenulum as you looked up at him with your beautiful mouth stuffed full of his cock; so heavenly, yet so sinful. He felt he could get off from the view alone, his breathing coming out in fast, ragged moans. You let your lips ease slowly down his shaft feeling them stretch around his thickness as you hollowed your cheeks, wanting to make sure it felt good for him.

You pushed your mouth further down his cock—flattening your tongue against the vein on the underside of his length—making his hips buck suddenly, forcing him to the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion—your throat constricting around his thick head, squeezing around his dick so perfectly— as spit poured from your lips. Choso whimpered loudly and his hips jerked up once more as his body instinctively chased after the warm wetness of your throat. His trembling hands unconsciously forced your face against his navel, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he pushed deeper into you. Your throat contracted around his swollen tip as you gagged again, starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen. You let out a gargled cry and dug your nails into Choso’s strong thighs; the sharp sting bringing him back down to reality for a moment long enough that he could recover control of his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized profusely as his strong hands suddenly relinquished their force on the back of your head, giving you the chance to sit back up. You coughed as your mouth pulled off of his length, spit dribbling down your chin as you struggled to catch your breath. Choso looked down to meet your eyes—glassy with unspilt tears—and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

“I’m so sorry… I-I didn’t mean to–” Choso started nervously, afraid that he had hurt you when he saw your glistening eyes. He felt immense guilt. Here you were, offering so kindly to help him and he had ruined it. You could see the anxiety brewing in his wide, purple eyes, so you shook your head and shushed him gently, rubbing a reassuring palm over his thigh.

“It’s okay, Choso—really… I just... Didn’t expect it was all,” you said with a sweet laugh, still a little breathless but smiling up at him. You took a moment to regain your composure, wiping some of the spit that had leaked down your chin off with your hand. You could see his expression relax a little, but there was still a lingering doubt hiding in the slight furrow of his brows. “You can be rougher, if you want to be… I don’t mind,” you offered gently, your eyes looking coyly up into his.

virgin!Choso who swallowed nervously as he took in your words. His hands were back on your face now, his thumbs rubbing tenderly across your cheekbones.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you…” Choso said softly. Yet, he couldn’t deny the inexplicable lust he had felt for watching you drool over his cock, seeing those unspilt tears make your eyes shine so pretty. You shook your head gently. “You won’t. I’ll stop you if it’s too much,” you promised him assuredly. Choso swallowed nervously again, but consented with a light "O-okay," too captivated by the idea of feeling his dick inside of your warm, tight throat to put up much of a fight. His hands stayed on your cheeks as you started to pump his cock slowly with your fist again, using all of the spit that had dripped from your mouth to easily slide up and down his length. Choso whimpered, his hips already bucking gently up to meet your movements.

“Fuck… It feels so good,” he whimpered and you felt your core clench up at his needy tone. You were already so wet from sucking his cock, hearing him beg and whimper for you was making you feel like you could cum just from watching him. “Mmm, I know it does, Cho… Want to make you feel even better though,” you couldn’t help but moan back to him.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft a few more times, making audible wet sounds from how much spit had leaked out of your mouth when he gagged you. You continued to use your hand on the lower part of his length, stroking him steadily as you brought your lips to wrap around his tip once more. His hands slid back into your hair, gently holding the loose strands of hair from your face. When you felt comfortable, you picked up the pace again, sliding your lips further down Choso’s cock as your hand stroked in rhythm with your mouth. Your lips and hand were wrapped so perfectly around him… So wet, so warm, so tight… Choso’s head was spinning and he could feel his control slipping.

“Feels so good…” He repeated once more in a repressed whine as he attempted—in vain—to restrain the movements of his thrusts. “Wanna give you more, pretty. Can you take more?” He asked you so desperately, his eyes glazed over with lust and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. You could feel his thighs trembling, the little jumps his hips made as he struggled not to fuck your face as aggressively as his cock was telling him to. You hummed around him and removed your hand from his shaft, giving him permission to use your throat.

virgin!Choso who lost any remaining semblance of control after you took your hand off of him. He tried to start slowly, trying to make his hips roll lightly into your face, wanting to be as gentle as he could. But he kept pushing deeper with every thrust, making his tip press against the tight ring of your throat harder each time until he was slipping past it, bullying into it. He moaned heavily as he watched your lips stretch to fit his girth and clusters of tears gathered in your waterline, the sight only making him thrust harder.

Choso’s breathing was coming out fast again as he watched you take more of his length. His moans were breathy and whiny as his dick took over and he fucked himself into your face blatantly. His voice was so husky, but his moans were so soft and desperate and it made your cunt throb with want as he used your throat. He was humping his hips into your face with abandon now, one strong hand gripping into your hair and forcing you down on his cock while the other held onto your shoulder like a lifeline. You focused hard on relaxing your throat as he manually bobbed your head up and down his length, his dick getting squeezed so perfectly every time he felt your throat gag and constrict around him.

“F-fuck… Thank you, Y/N…Thank you…” He whined in his gruff voice, his hips shaking as he forced the warm wetness of your mouth down and up his swollen cock. He watched you drool and gag as he abused your throat, spit dripping from your chin and onto his heavy balls. His dark eyes watched as you struggled for him, for the sake of his pleasure, and he felt that familiar pressure building inside of him. You blinked up at him—vision blurred from tears—watching as his pretty face contorted with passion. The corners of his dark eyebrows were curved upwards and his swollen lips parted as he watched you so pliantly take his thick cock. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Choso moaned out desperately—sounding as if he were near crying—his hips jerking more erratically as he neared his release. His back arched as his body trembled against the cushions, his head thrown back once again as he panted and whimpered. “Gonna cum,” he cried out in the most pathetically erotic voice you had ever heard. “Gonna cum in your pretty mouth…” His hand had made a fist in your hair, holding your head steady now as he let his volatile thrusts push him over the edge.

virgin!Choso who pulled your face flush against his pelvis as his cock twitched and he released his cum deep into your throat with a sob. You watched the breathtaking sight before you through watery eyes; Choso’s body trembling above you, his neck—littered with blooming lovebites—stretched so beautifully as his head tipped against the back of the couch. He panted and whined your name and his hips bucked into your face with every rope of cum that spurted from his pulsing length, forcing you to swallow all of it.

He groaned as his cock finally stopped twitching and as his grip on your hair relaxed, letting your lips release his thick cock with a pop. You pulled back, breathing heavily as drool streamed down your chin, and your eyes were glossed over with tears. A thick strand of spit hung between your lips and Choso’s tip as the two of you struggled to regain your breath. With effort, Choso pulled his head up to look down at you and gave you a dizzy grin, panted laughs escaping from his chest as he reveled in the afterglow of his orgasm. He took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, and your glassy eyes as you smiled back at him; and he thought you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“How- How was that?” Choso asked breathlessly, his brain still too dazed to form a coherent sentence. You laughed in return, your eyes creasing in the corners and making him chuckle back at his own speechlessness. “You did so good, Choso," you praised him sweetly, wiping the residual drool from your chin and tears from your cheeks. "It was really hot... Watching you let go like that,” you admitted to him a little shyly as you helped pull his boxers back up his thighs, covering his half-hard cock back up (for now).

“How was it for you?” You asked him a little smugly as you smiled up at him, confident you knew his answer. Choso smirked lightly, rolling his eyes, but he still entertained your question.

“Incredible… I... Didn’t know it could feel that good,”  he admitted sincerely, still in disbelief at just how blissful you had made him feel. You smiled at him warmly and laughed as you rose to your feet, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. Choso watched you stand, his eyes gazing at you with adoration and contentment and a lazy grin plastered on his face. He patted his muscular thigh, suddenly feeling emboldened to show you just how grateful he was for you.

“Your turn..."

these just keep getting longer omg 😭 but I am having so much fun making this series more of a slow-burn and I hope you guys are enjoying as well 🫶

[quimichi]

❛ CUDDLING SOME GENSHIN BOYS ༉‧₊˚

Genshin boy's x Creator!Reader

Tighnari, Aether, Albedo, Venti & Zhongli

Tighnari

His muscles flex instinctively as you wrap your arms around him. It's so sudden and yet so perfect. His heart flutters, overwhelmed by everything this moment contains.

Youre pressed against his body, your soft lips grazing his neck as you whisper sweet nothings to each other. His pulse throbs, hot against your cheek, and he cannot help but hold you as close as he possibly can. He does not want you to leave. He craves only your touch. "So comfy..." you whisper into his neck.The warmth of your words leaves Tighnari dizzy. It feels like the first time he has heard such sweet words from your lips, and yet it is familiar. It is a kind of love he has always dreamt of sharing with you, and it is everything he has ever fantasized.

"Do you enjoy it?" his voice is whisper-soft, so low he can barely even say it himself. He cannot dare to speak any further, but his breathing is rapid as he clings to you. "A lot..."

Your admission causes his heart to swell and his ears twitch in enjoyment. The joy he feels washes over him like a wave, the pure, unadultered happiness one feels when all the stars align. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

"I'm glad"

Aether

Aether immediately leans further into you, pressing himself into your touch. He lets out a hum of happiness as he relaxes further into you, making himself comfortable and safe in your presence. He breathes in your scent and his smile grows. After a quiet moment, the traveler glances up at you, his head burried in your chest, and tilts his head, seemingly curious. "You seem to be enjoying yourself" you giggle as you gently stroke his hair. "Mmm..." Aether murmurs, nodding a little in response. "It's hard not to when I'm in your embrace." Aethers expression softens even more as he leans his head into your hand—his body seems magnetically drawn to yours, his whole life lived in pursuit of your touch.

He relaxes almost immediately. The travelers expression becomes a content smile, as if the world has finally returned to normal.

Thank you, his eyes say to you; only you.

Albedo

His heart skips a beat as you snuggle up to him, and he glances down at you with a slightly stunned expression.

Your physical affection isn't as formal as the words of praise that he offers, but it warms him to his core. He doesn't think that he has ever felt so happy. Albedo gazes down at you as you doze, his expression filled with affection and love.

His lips curl upwards gently, and he runs a hand through your hair. The soft strands are delicate against his fingertips, and he can't keep himself from kissing your forehead.

You've caught his heart, as if it were a butterfly in a jar. "Love this" you mumble tiredly. He smiles, but he doesn't speak. He holds you close, relishing the sensation of your body beside his. His arms are wrapped around you, and he runs his fingers through your hair again. He traces the contours of your face, as if he wants to memorize you.

"Agreed"

Venti

Venti nestles his head into your chest, contented to breathe in your warmth as he wraps his arms around you tightly. His touch is light and tender, but he does not want to let go. It makes him dizzy with elation, just being this close to you. But letting go? There's no way...Venti hides a smile beneath you, his lips curling into a shy shape. He shifts his body slightly, burrowing his head into your chest and using you as a pillow. Being so close to you allows him to hear your heartbeat... It's one of his most cherished sounds.

"I love being in your embrace," he answers contentedly, "I love your heartbeat— it's music in my ears. There is nowhere in this world that would make me happier than to be within your embrace... I want to be here, this close to you, for as long as we both shall live."

He presses his lips against your skin on your chest. It is a mark of his affection. He does it again and again, smiling as he kisses you.

Zhongli

The feeling of your arms and warmth is as addicting as a drug. When Zhongli finally finds himself in your embrace, he's quick to wrap his arms in kind. Zhongli closes his eyes, content to breathe in the scent of your scent; the scent of your hair. His fingers gently brush your jawline, caressing the smoothness of your skin.

This is enough to make him forget everything. In this moment, nothing matters except for the two of you. "Yours," The word is barely above a whisper, barely audible at all. As he shifts in your arms, his breath catches between his teeth. He presses himself close; close enough that it feels like his chest will crack open.

The touch of your fingertips on his skin has him trembling involuntarily. His eyes close when you gently caress him, as though the touch sets the entire world alight, every nerve in his body tingling.

"Yours," he says again, this time almost pleading. " 'm all yours"

[fawnsflowerbed]

HELLOOOOOOOO!!!!

Carrying over from the previous puppy leon ask, I was thinking about hybrid dog vendetta leon, just finding him on your porch, just laying down behind one of the chairs. He hasn’t knocked on your door to ask for food, he never will. He���s at rock bottom, he doesn’t want to eat anymore, all he wants to do is sleep and listen to your music thats muffled outside. One day you take the trash out and you notice him and he’s too numb to be scared of any potential consequences, expecting the worst out of you, but instead he gets his cheek rubbed and scratchies behind the ears. And then hes being carried into your home, soft praises being mumbled into his ear, and he has a warm bath and a hot meal waiting for him. All the dirt and grime is cleaned off, theres a warmth in his belly again, and he’s laid in your bed. And he just looks up at you with all the adoration in the world. He’s someone’s little angel now, their sweetheart, their baby. It’s too good to be true, one day he’ll be thrown out once you realize how sad and useless he is, he can’t even do the bare minimum of being the happy, comforting dog he’s supposed to be. But it doesn’t seem to matter to you, you call him a good boy all the same and just hold him, kissing his forehead and his freshly washed hair. You’re happy with him now, oddly enough, his curious sniffing and his big eyes staring up at you makes you smile. Maybe you will get tired of him one day (no you won’t), but at least right now there’s someone who loves him. Right in this moment, he’s loved, he’s cared for. That’s more than he’s ever had in the past. And maybe instead of worrying, he should just lean into the affection. So he does. He wraps his arms around your waist and licks your cheek, a silent thank you, and he buries his face into your neck, a wetness soaking through your sweater, and eventually he falls asleep, warm and happy, and at home.

-🌷

OLD MAN DOG HYBRID LEONNNN!!!! SCRATCHES UP MY WALLPAPER!!!!! The way his exhaustion would soak through his skin, he can't even muster a growl as he sits behind your porch chairs in the pouring rain. You frown, and he's sure you're going to tell him to piss off and bug someone else. But instead you seem.. soft. Leaning down to rub his cheek, running a hand over his hair to scratch behind his ear. It's been so long since he'd been touched with such tender care, leaning his head into the scritching with an exhausted sigh. Hardly registering how you straighten him and sling him into your home.

"Poor thing.." You mumble, and he can't help but agree. He's pitiful compared to his younger self. Yet you don't say it as an insult, moreso as a worry. Gently brushing the hair from his face as you carefully shed his clothes and settle him into a hot bath. How long had it been since he'd had a proper bath? With you gently working soap over the dirt caking his skin and combing the knots from his hair. He doesn't growl, or snap, he just stares at the bottom of the tub aimlessly. Only making out the soothing tone of your voice as you wash out and off the suds. "There you go, good boy." Oh, he hasn't heard that in so long.

He's not a fan of the hair dryer, but that's okay. He doesn't bite and nip at the air with an angrily stiff tail, he's grown out of that phase. So he only grumbles mentally at the whir of the fan.

But the huffs stop when he realises the reason you left him alone in the tub for a moment (and he, as a good boy, remained sat and stayed) was because you were washing and drying his clothes. Just a quick five minute rinse and wash in the sink, a fast run through the dryer. It'd been so long since he'd relished in the smell of washing detergent, the softness of clean linen and cotton. His tail swishes, working the fabric over his now clean body before carefully treading downstairs, ears up and eyes wide and nose sniffing. Taking in the aura of your home, the comfort. But he could smell it. Food. Warm, hot food.

When he does make it downstairs there you are, setting a bowl of steaming food down on the dining table with a soft smile. "That must feel better, huh buddy?" There goes his tail again, watching as you pat the seat. "C'mon, you're probably starving."

Even as he snuffles at the food before eating it, even as he wipes his mouth haphazardly with his hand out of habit rather than using a napkin, he looks around the house with curious eyes. Even after his belly is full and his heart is whole, you stay. You don't kick him to the curb after an act of kindness like he expected. Instead you pet over his wet hair, let him sniff at your neck and hands, his tail swaying. You're patient.

And patience is what he needed.

[enderlovez]

Bloody

Spencer Reid x Vampire Reader WORD COUNT: 737

Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid is married to a vampire.

Content Warning: mentions of blood drinking, reader can go out in the sun but it's uncomfortable, reader has red eyes, reader is immortal and a few centuries old, brief mentions of murder and stalking

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer's not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation in the first place—you clinging to him like he's an oversized teddy bear—but he knows he wouldn't want it any other way.

Having a hungry vampire with her face pressed right up against his jugular should be enough to have him cringing away. And admittedly his pulse is racing, but for an entirely different reason, as his fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on the soft, exposed skin of your hip.

If someone had told Spencer three years ago that he would be happily married to a vampire he would have laughed in their face.

Yet here he is, holding his beautiful wife in his arms, and he can say for sure that he's never been happier.

How the two of you met? Well, that's something for another day, but to make a long story short, you found him while he was seconds away from being stabbed in the back of the neck by a psycho stalker.

"You awake?" he asks in an almost inaudible voice. Spencer feels the faint brush of your lips against his neck as you nod, leaving the softest of kisses against the delicate skin. It makes a shiver run down his spine, and he knows you can hear the increase of his heartrate.

Though you don't make any noise, he can feel the cool air on his neck as you let out a silent chuckle.

"Still hungry?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers pausing their tracing for just a moment.

You pull back slightly, your crimson eyes peeking up to meet his hazel ones, glinting faintly in the dim light. There's a softness there, a warmth that doesn't quite match the traditional tales of your kind, and one that only Spencer can see.

"Not for blood," you reply, voice laced with teasing affection. "I'm more interested in the genius who's letting me hog all the blankets, even when he knows I don't need them in the slightest."

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle, brushing a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. "I think 'genius' might be overselling it. Most people would call this situation irrational, maybe even reckless."

Neither of you mention how nobody would even believe him, if he were to tell then he's married to a vampire.

"Most people don't know you like I do," you counter, resting your head back onto him, this time on his chest. "You're not reckless, Spencer. You're... curious. And kind. That's why you didn't run when you figured out what I was."

He smiles faintly, the memory of the night you met briefly flashing through his mind. It wasn't every day you met someone who saved your life and then casually admitted they'd (technically) been dead for centuries. "I'd like to think the profiling helped with that," he jokes.

"Oh, definitely," you tease, drawing lazy patterns on his shirt with your pointer finger. "Nothing screams 'trustworthy' like a man reciting the statistics about violent crime to a vampire."

He laughs softly, and you join him for a moment, the sound mingling in the otherwise quiet room. Spencer's laughter fades as his eyes drift back to yours again, his expression growing thoughtful. "Does it still bother you?" he asks gently.

You know what he's referring to without needing clarification—the sunlit mornings he spends alone most of the time, the quiet ache of being different, the things you've done to survive.

"Sometimes," you admit, your voice quieter now. "But being with you makes it easier. You remind me that there's light, even for... someone like me."

Spencer leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're my light, too," he says softly. "Even if you do steal all the blankets."

You smile against his chest, your pointed teeth peeking out ever so slightly. "I think I'll keep you around, Doctor Reid. You're pretty good at this whole 'marriage' thing."

"Good," he murmurs, holding you tighter, "because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

"I think it's more like you're stuck with me," you correct gently, "you know, considering I'm the predator in this scenario. You're my prey."

His fingers resume their movements on your hip. He doesn't say anything, know that one way or another, you'll find a way to counter anything he says. Being alive for hundreds of years has made you good at things like that.

[anyca786]

Mikealson Siblings taking care of Pregnant!reader

The afternoon sun streamed through the arched windows of the Mikaelson compound, casting dappled shadows across the plush sofa where you sat. Your hand rested on your swollen belly, tracing the faint outline of a tiny foot that seemed determined to imprint itself on your skin. A sigh escaped your lips, laced with a curious mix of exhaustion and awe. Being pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson's child was an experience unlike any other.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?"

Elijah, your best friend's voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He knelt down, his gentle eyes crinkling at the corners as he placed a cool hand on your cheek.

"Sore feet?" he asked, his gaze flickering down to your ankles where you idly rubbed them.

As if summoned, Elijah began to gently massage your feet, his touch a soothing balm against the constant ache. "The joys of motherhood," he chuckled softly. "Even before the little one arrives."

"You should see Rebekah skipping around like a mother hen," you said with a laugh.

Ever since the news, Rebekah had taken it upon herself to become your personal nutritionist. Bowls of fresh fruit seemed to magically appear by your side, and gentle reminders to stay hydrated were delivered with an endearing bossiness.

Suddenly, the library door slammed open, and Kol burst in, brandishing a book. He skidded to a halt when he saw you. "Apologies, darling," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes vanishing instantly as he took in your weary expression. "Didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"

You couldn't help but melt under his sudden concern. The Mikaelson siblings, notorious for their chaotic lives, were turning into a symphony of attentiveness for you. "Just a little tired, Kol," you assured him, a smile returning to your face. His brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed over as he noticed a stray strand of hair clinging to your cheek. With a gesture so tender it surprised even him, he brushed it away.

A deep, booming voice resonated through the room, "Elijah, have you located the witch Davina spoke of?"

Klaus stalked into the library, his scowl fading the moment he spotted you. As he drew closer, his voice softened to a near murmur. "Have you eaten anything yet, love?"

You fought back a giggle. "Yes, Klaus, just some fruit Rebekah insisted upon."

He hovered for a moment, his gaze flitting across your face. "Did you rest well last night?"

You nodded, touched by the worry etched on his usually stoic face. Klaus wasn't known for his displays of affection, but ever since you carried his child, a tenderness he couldn't quite mask lingered in his blue eyes. He cleared his throat, the familiar Klaus returning momentarily.

"Excellent. We don't need any unnecessary fatigue while dealing with this archaic prophecy."

He turned to face Elijah, resuming their previous conversation. However, his words were punctuated by occasional glances your way, each one a silent confirmation of his concern.

The next few weeks were a blur of doctor's appointments, cravings for bizarre combinations of food, and endless debates about the nursery.

Elijah, the undisputed planner, had already sketched out several designs, each more elaborate than the last. Rebekah, however, preferred a more minimalist approach, arguing for practicality over aesthetics. Kol, surprisingly, became the voice of reason, mediating their arguments with witty commentary and unexpected insights.

Klaus, though typically absent from these discussions, always managed to appear moments before a decision was made. His vetoes, delivered with a gruffness that belied his softening heart, were invariably accepted. The nursery, a haven of soft hues and elegant simplicity, was a testament to his unspoken desire to create a safe haven for his child.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself curled up on the chaise lounge in Rebekah's room, a book clutched limply in your hand. Fatigue weighed heavily on your eyelids, threatening to pull you under. You drowsily watched rain lash against the window, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

The sound of the door creaking open startled you awake. Rebekah entered, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "You shouldn't be reading in such dim light, love," she chided gently, setting a steaming cup on the side table. "And here I thought Klaus told you to take a nap."

"He did," you mumbled, reaching for the cup. The warm aroma of chamomile filled your senses, instantly calming you further.

"He's just worried sick," Rebekah said, settling beside you on the chaise lounge. "We all are."

This was so random 💀

[rootedinrevisions]

Want This More Than Anything

CHARACTER: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

KINK: Breeding Kink

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (P in V), Cussing/Language (Use of “F” word)

TAG LIST: @missmarveledsblog I @shanimallina87 I @fore45fore I @cardi-bre91 I @lonelysoul50

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

Bradley finds himself watching you more than mingling as the baby shower progresses. The room is full of joyful chatter, gifts wrapped in pastel paper, and the aroma of vanilla and lavender candles, but his focus is locked on you. You’re at the center of the room with your sister, your head bent close to hers as you laugh over something only the two of you understand. 

It’s in moments like these that he sees another side of you—your gentle, nurturing side that glows as you rest a hand over your sister’s belly, feeling a slight kick beneath your fingertips. The look on your face as you speak to your sister, the way you beam at her when she talks about her baby, stirs something unexpected in Bradley. 

He’d never thought much about the specifics of starting a family, assuming the two of you would get there whenever you were ready, but seeing you this way, so tender and at ease, starts planting a longing he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. 

You’d be such a good mom, he thinks, warmth spreading through his chest. He wonders what it would be like to see you like this every day, to have his hand over your stomach, feeling his child kick beneath your skin.

His heart beats a little faster when someone places a baby—a friend's newborn son—into your arms. He watches the way your smile softens as you hold the baby close, rocking him gently with the kind of ease that only comes naturally. Bradley feels a pang of longing seeing the baby’s tiny hand curl around your thumb as if the child senses the comfort of your touch. The sight is overwhelming, filling him with the kind of ache that only grows the longer he watches. The idea of you, cradling yours and his baby in your arms, swells in his mind, vivid and powerful.

His eyes follow you around the room as you move from guest to guest, still holding the baby, the two of you looking so natural together that he can’t help but smile. It’s a feeling that’s both new and yet feels like it’s always been there, lingering beneath the surface. 

The image of you, pregnant and glowing, keeps replaying in his mind, and he finds himself thinking about what it would be like to share that journey with you—to see you carrying his child, to witness you transform, glowing in a way only motherhood can bring.

He takes a deep breath, overwhelmed by how much he wants this, how right it feels. He’s always known he wanted a life with you, but today, he’s starting to see what that life might actually look like. 

The thought is so consuming that even after the shower ends, as you both climb into the car, he’s still quiet, his mind buzzing with images of a future that’s suddenly so clear, so real, it’s almost tangible.

Later that evening you’re both unwinding in the soft glow of evening, the living room filled with the quiet comfort of just being together. You’re nestled against Bradley on the couch, his arm draped around you, fingers tracing small circles along your shoulder as you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat—a familiar rhythm that always brings you a sense of peace. It’s the kind of evening you both cherish, just the two of you, cocooned in each other’s warmth and laughter, away from the noise of the outside world.

Bradley shifts slightly, bringing his hand down to rest against your stomach, his touch lingering there with a tenderness that makes you smile. You look up at him, noticing the thoughtful expression on his face, and give him a curious smile. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Bradshaw?” you tease, nudging him lightly.

He gives a small, almost shy smile, his hand still resting on your stomach as his thumb brushes back and forth. 

“Just… thinking,” he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. 

His eyes lift to meet yours, and there’s a look in them you recognize—love, yes, but something deeper, a yearning that feels almost tangible. 

His hand presses just a little more firmly against your stomach, his gaze softening as he whispers, “I was just thinking… about what it would be like if you were pregnant.”

The words settle between you, and there’s an undeniable spark in his eyes that sends a thrill through you. You reach up, brushing a hand through his hair and giving him an affectionate smile. 

“Yeah?” you say softly, your own heart beginning to race as you take in the gentle, almost reverent way he’s looking at you.

He nods, his hand still resting on your stomach, and you can see how the thought has stirred something in him, his gaze becoming more intense. 

“You’d be so beautiful,” he whispers, a note of awe in his voice. “The idea of seeing you with a bump, knowing our baby is growing there, it… it makes me want this with you, more than anything.”

Your fingers lace through his, encouraging him as he inches closer, his other hand gently caressing your cheek. In that moment, the love and anticipation shared between you feels almost electric, filling the room as you nod, letting him know just how much you want this, too.

“Then let’s make it happen,” you whisper, and the words seem to ignite something in Bradley. 

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you softly at first, and then with a deeper intensity as he gathers you in his arms. Effortlessly, he lifts you from the couch, holding you close as he carries you to the bedroom, the unspoken promise shared between you filling the air.

Bradley lays you down on the bed with such gentleness, as though he’s savoring each moment with you. His gaze is fixed on you, dark with desire yet tender, filled with love that makes your heart flutter. 

Slowly, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering as his hands begin to move down, taking their time as they slip beneath the fabric of your shirt. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulls your shirt up and over your head, his eyes roaming over you with unspoken admiration. 

He trails kisses down your neck, his hands finding the bare skin of your waist, thumbs brushing lightly as if already imagining what it would feel like when it’s rounded, growing with the life you’ll share. "

You’ll look so beautiful, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can already picture it, that glow you’ll have… knowing I put our baby there.”

He moves lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, his hands warm and steady as he slides them down your sides, slowly undressing you piece by piece, each movement filled with reverence. His lips follow the path of his hands, planting gentle kisses along your skin, exploring every inch as though he’s memorizing it. 

He whispers in awe, “I can already see it… the way you’ll look carrying a part of us. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” The soft pressure of his mouth reaches your stomach, and he pauses there, pressing his palm lightly against it. “Just thinking about you like that…” he trails off, his words coming out as a whisper. 

His hands hold you with such gentle strength, grounding you in his touch as he leans up, his eyes meeting yours with a spark that leaves you breathless.

He brushes his lips over yours once more, his hand never leaving your waist. 

“I want this,” he murmurs, his voice rough and sincere. “You, me, a family. And tonight… I want to start making that happen.” His words, filled with promise, bring an overwhelming sense of warmth as he draws you close again, his movements slow and intimate, his touch conveying everything words can’t.

Bradley's lips capture yours again, slow and tender, as if he's savoring every second of this moment. His hands slide up, tracing the curve of your waist, then down, leaving a warm trail that feels like it’s lingering in your skin. His touch is reverent, his kisses unhurried, and the intimacy between you fills the room, making every breath feel thicker, every heartbeat more profound.

He kisses a line along your jaw, then down your neck, his lips trailing lower with purpose, each kiss more heated than the last. When he reaches your stomach again, he pauses, his fingertips brushing over the skin in a way that sends chills through you.

“I love the idea of you like this,” he murmurs softly, as though the thought itself is a secret meant only for you. “I want everyone to know you're carrying something so… so perfectly ours.”

The sincerity in his voice stirs something deep inside you, and as his gaze locks with yours, you feel his love in its purest form—unfiltered, vulnerable, and full of longing. He leans down once more, kissing your stomach like it’s a promise, and his hands move with careful, deliberate motions, undressing you fully until there's nothing between you.

His lips travel back up, tasting, exploring, leaving no part of you untouched, as if he’s determined to make this moment last. With each whispered thought—“You’re going to be the most beautiful mother,” “I love you more than anything”—he draws you in further, making you feel as if nothing in the world could compare to this closeness, this connection.

Finally, his hands rest on either side of your face, thumbs brushing softly along your cheekbones as he meets your eyes. “Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a mixture of tenderness and anticipation, and the way he looks at you makes your heart race.

His fingers lace through yours, and he presses your hands down into the sheets gently, anchoring you as he continues to kiss you slowly, purposefully. His eyes, filled with both warmth and intensity, never leave yours, as if he’s trying to memorize every reaction, every part of this moment with you.

He slowly starts to push into you. You immediately feel the stretch as he slides himself further and further into you. He moves slowly, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he tries to be gentle with you. 

But it’s taking everything in him not to move faster so he can fill you with his cum as fast as possible. Once he’s all the way in he stills for a moment, and his free hand finds its way back to your stomach, tracing gentles circles, as if envisioning what he’s hoping to creat with you.

He lets out a soft, husky chuckle, his breath hot against your ear. “I can’t stop thinking about it… you, with that glow, looking so incredible, knowing there’s a part of us growing right here,” he murmurs, his hand pressing tenderly over your stomach.

You smile, caught up in his words, feeling the sincerity in each one. “You really want this, huh?” You whisper more a statement than a question, your voice soft with wonder.

He looks at you, his eyes tender but filled with longing. “More than anything,” he says. “I want everything with you. I want every moment, every memory… every dream.” 

His lips brush yours again, sending shivers through you as he deepens the kiss, his desire tangible, wrapping you both in its warmth.

“Then give it to me, babe. Put a baby in me, Bradley.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat before he slides out and then thrusts into you. His forehead is pressed to yours, his breath warm and ragged as his hips begin to quicken their pace.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as his hips drive into you with a little more urgency now.

He lets go of your hands and your nails move down his back, grasping at him, needing him closer, deeper, as if you can’t get enough of him. He grunts at the feeling, his muscles tightening under your nails and fingertips. But it only drives him harder, his hips pushing harder against yours.

Bradley’s touch is everywhere—hands caressing, fingers threading through yours, his lips trailing soft kisses over your skin. 

You feel your body nearing the edge, every sensation heightened as he leans close, his mouth brushing your ear, whispering softly, “I’ve got you, baby. Just let go for me.” 

His words, filled with such desire and love, send you over the edge, your entire body shivering as he holds you through it, grounding you with his warmth. Moments later, you feel him shudder, his grip tightening as he follows you, his breathing ragged, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that seals the moment.

Afterward, Bradley wraps his arms around you, holding you close as your breaths gradually slow together. His hands move gently, tracing soft circles along your back and shoulders, grounding you in his embrace. 

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispers, “You okay, sweetheart?” His voice is low and tender, full of love and care.

You nod, a soft smile spreading across your lips as you melt into his warmth. “I’m perfect,” you murmur, running your fingers lazily along his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Bradley continues to hold you, his hand now resting on your stomach, his thumb making slow, soothing strokes as if reassuring you—and himself—of the connection you’ve just shared. 

“You know…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, “I meant everything I said, about wanting to have a baby with you. About wanting us to start a family. But…if you’re not ready, we can go to the pharmacy. Get a Plan B or whatever you need.” He hesitates like he’s trying to give you space to think without pressure, though his fingers still linger on your skin as if he can’t bring himself to pull away.

You reach for his hand on your stomach, intertwining your fingers with his as you turn to face him fully. “Bradley, I don’t want Plan B,” you murmur, your tone soft but steady. “If you’re taking me to the pharmacy, it’s to buy an ovulation kit and a pregnancy test—so we can know exactly when it’s the best time for this. I love you, Bradley. And I want this too. I want this with you!”

He smiles back, his face lighting up as he pulls you closer. “I love you too,” he says, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “Can’t wait to see you with that big beautiful bump, and don’t even get me started on what these are going to look like,” he teases as his hand moves from your stomach to reach up and cup one of your breasts in his hand.

[foxy-eva]

Morning Cuddles

Summary: Spencer is late for work but morning cuddles with his girlfriend are more important than being on time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff 

Content Warning: cuddling, kissing, Spencer gets teased at work, Derek makes a suggestive comment

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

“Goodbye, sleepy girl,” Spencer whispered as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

He has been standing by your bedside for several moments, admiring your sleeping form  with an accelerated heartbeat. Even though the morning sun was already tickling your eyelids, you couldn't be bothered to fully wake up just yet. You knew Spencer had to leave earlier than you but even half-asleep every fiber of your body longed to have him close just a few moments longer. 

Instead of answering him, you just whined with your eyes still closed and reached out to grab his arm. He began laughing when he realized that you were pulling him back into bed. 

Only when you finally had him inside your arms did you realize that he was already fully dressed in his work attire. You felt him tenderly kiss your cheek before your eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking the remains of last night's sleep away.

The warmth his golden irises radiated was unlike anything you had ever seen. It reminded you of the color of honey dripping from greedy fingers and you felt the need to chase the sweetness nature had to offer. Your fingertips gently brushed through his curls while your lips found his to soothe your longing for his saccharine taste. 

It was not enough though. All your drowsiness left your body as you pressed against him, greedy to take all of him in. The fabric of his dress-shirt hindered you from accessing his tenderness and you began whining in protest as you tugged on it. 

“I’m gonna be late for work,” Spencer breathed against your lips. 

Finally you managed to pull his shirt out from the waistband of his pants, just enough for your hand to sneak underneath it to feel his stomach. Your fingertips wandered over his skin in circular patterns, brushing over the little trail of hair underneath his navel before moving further up until you could feel his heartbeat. 

"Just a little longer," you begged him between kisses. 

It was then that Spencer couldn't hold back his own eagerness any longer. His palms began gliding over your body as if he tried to memorize every curve and dip of your skin. You were both aware that this act could have easily shifted into something more sinful but that was not what either of you yearned for in that moment. 

Perfectly innocent you explored each other's bodies with palms gliding over skin and fingertips burying into the softness they found. Every piece of fabric that got in the way was shoved aside, not caring about what that would do to neatly ironed work clothes. Almost forgotten were other duties, the only thing that mattered right then was feeling each other's nearness. 

“Okay, you can go now," you finally whispered. "Sorry for making you late."

“No," Spencer protested when you attempted to pull away. "I'm not done yet."

His lips were on yours in an instant while the grip he had on your body tightened. With his legs intertwined with yours it became impossible to tell where your body ended and his began. His hands were curious as they glided over your sides, only slowing down once your skin broke out in goosebumps. 

Spencer leaned back to find your eyes before showering your entire face with little kisses. His adorable way of showing affection made you giggle and he joined in with his own sounds of joy. When he looked at you once more you couldn't help but admire the beauty of the man in front of you. 

"You're so beautiful," you whispered as you reached out your hand to touch his cheek. 

A rosy shade spread over his face at the compliment and it took him a second to find his voice again. 

"You're beautiful." Another kiss was placed on your lips before he cooed, "You're stunning, gorgeous, absolutely flawless."

You glanced over to your nightstand to look at the clock, realizing that Spencer should have left ten minutes ago. With your hands against his shoulders you managed to basically shove him out of your bed. 

"You really need to go now. You’re gonna get in trouble because of me," you told him once he was back on his feet. 

With the sweetest smile spread over his cheeks he purred, "Worth it."

You watched him as he undid his belt and pants to tuck the edges of his shirt back in, attempting to straighten out all the crinkles you had created with your hands roaming over his body. Even with all his effort Spencer couldn't make it look like before.

"You don't happen to own an iron, do you?" He asked when he looked at himself in the mirror. "I only brought this one shirt when I came over last night."

"Sorry, I don't. Do you think anyone will notice?"

He just shrugged before trying to fix his unruly curls to make his look more appropriate for work. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of this endearing out-of-bed look. 

"I think you look amazing even with messy hair and a crinkly shirt," you snickered.

He turned to you and just smiled at your words before checking his watch again, sighing, "Yup, I'm definitely gonna be late."

"If you run really fast you might disrupt the space-time continuum enough to still make it in time."

He raised his eyebrows at you and chuckled, "A physics joke? Wow, you really are perfect." 

After placing another goodbye kiss on your lips he finally made it out of your apartment. His heart was still pounding harder than usual on his way to work and he slowly realized just how much of a besotted fool he had become since meeting you. Spencer was head over heels in love with you and couldn't have been happier about that. 

When he walked into the conference room at the BAU everyone was already waiting for him. 

"Sorry, I overslept," Spencer lied as he sat down at the table. 

It only took a split second for Derek to scan his looks and laugh, "Overslept with who exactly? I knew you would make us proud someday, pretty boy!"

Spencer's thoughts raced to the images of you sleeping peacefully in your bed this morning. The smile forming on his face was impossible to hide, giving away that there actually was someone who had made him late. 

"My man!" Derek almost yelled at Spencer's reaction to his teasing. "I was joking but I think you actually got lucky this morning!"

Spencer's fingertips began tingling when he remembered the sensation of your tender skin underneath them. And even if it was a lot more innocent than Derek implied, he really did feel like the luckiest man now that he had you.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story you should check out my other blurb about soft morning cuddles Sleepy Golden Storm!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17