#and the colored bits are Much Longer Than That

[charmed-quill]

fireworks and forgiveness//G.W x Reader

a/n: AHHH thank you so much for my very first request. i know you said you liked longer fics so i hope this is long enough

word count: 4.8k

request: @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps

Could I request a george weasley x reader.

Where reader is working at their shop and george is stressed and is a bit horrible towards reader. But could we end with some extra fluff???

I love longer fics, so that would be great 💚

The bell above the shop door jingled for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, signaling yet another wave of customers. The once neatly organized shelves of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes now looked like a hurricane had swept through, with items scattered and empty spaces glaring where products should’ve been. Children zipped around, testing Extendable Ears and Whizzing Worms, while parents tried, and mostly failed, to rein them in.

Standing behind the counter, you rang up purchases as quickly as possible, occasionally pausing to flash a polite smile at the more patient customers. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted George darting between shelves, trying to keep things running smoothly. His usual easygoing grin had been replaced with a furrowed brow, his freckled face tight with concentration.

You’d been working at the shop since its grand opening, mostly because you couldn’t say no when George had asked. The two of you had been close since Hogwarts,partners in crime during countless pranks and late-night study sessions. He’d always had a knack for making you laugh, even on your worst days, and you liked to think you brought out his softer side.

But today, the George you knew seemed buried under layers of stress.

“Oi! Don’t open that until you’ve paid for it!” George’s voice boomed across the chaos, though it didn’t do much to stop a freckled boy from unwrapping a Canary Cream. You watched as George rubbed the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath before diving back into the madness.

“Need more Nosebleed Nougat at the front!” Fred shouted from somewhere near the Skiving Snackbox display, his arms full of brightly colored boxes.

“I’m on it!” you called back, already halfway to the storeroom. The path was like an obstacle course, with a kid swinging a Decoy Detonator narrowly missing your head and a pile of Puking Pastilles scattered across the floor nearly sending you flying.

As you reached the storeroom, you grabbed a tray of Nosebleed Nougats and took a moment to catch your breath. It had been non-stop since the shop opened, and your muscles were beginning to protest. You couldn’t help but think of George again, he was probably even more stressed than you, juggling the responsibilities of the shop while trying to please every customer.

By the time you made it back to the counter, George caught your arm. “What took you so long?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual. His hand lingered on your sleeve for a moment before he let go, stepping back.

You blinked, startled. “Sorry, I was restocking the Peruvian Powder from earlier.”

“Well, don’t take all day next time,” he said, already turning to a customer waving a handful of coins. His voice had an edge to it, one that you weren’t used to hearing from him.

You bit your lip, holding back a retort. George didn’t usually snap at you, and the sting of his words caught you off guard. But he was clearly overwhelmed, so you let it slid for now. With a deep breath, you pushed the thought aside and returned to ringing up customers, plastering on a smile as you handed over change.

“Thanks for your help,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear over the noise. It was easier to vent quietly than risk adding to his stress.

The hours blurred together as the crowd surged and ebbed, only to swell again. You found yourself weaving through aisles, fixing displays, and helping kids choose the “coolest” prank items, all while keeping one ear on the counter in case Fred or George shouted for help.

At one point, George brushed past you while carrying a stack of boxes. His shoulder bumped yours, and he muttered, “Watch it,” without even looking up. Normally, he’d apologise, or make a joke, but today, there was no sign of the George who used to playfully nudge you when you worked side by side.

By the time the shop doors finally closed, you felt like you’d run a marathon. The bell’s last jingle echoed faintly as the lock clicked into place, marking the end of what had to be the busiest day since Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes opened. The chaos left behind was staggering: colorful wrappers and bits of packaging littered the floor, displays leaned precariously, and the air still smelled faintly of smoke from a prank product that had gone awry.

You leaned against the counter for a moment, rolling your aching shoulders and letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That was... something,” you said, glancing over at George.

He stood a few feet away, sorting through a pile of stock sheets, his brows drawn tight with concentration. 

“Something,” he repeated dryly, not looking up. His voice had lost its usual playful warmth, replaced by the edge of someone teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

“I’ll start with the Peruvian Powder display,” you offered, pushing yourself off the counter. “It looks like a war zone over there.”

“Fine,” George replied shortly, still rifling through papers. He didn’t even glance in your direction, and something about his tone sent a prickle of unease down your spine.

You shook it off and grabbed out your want, making your way to the disaster zone near the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. With a flourish the broom began sweeping up the fine black powder. After the floor was visable once more you scooped up the dustpan, careful not to spill more. Your hands were smudged within seconds, and you wrinkled your nose as a cloud of powder puffed up around you.

Behind you, George’s voice carried through the quiet shop. “Where’s the inventory sheet for the WonderWitch line?” he called out, frustration creeping into his tone.

You paused, thinking. “I think Fred grabbed it earlier to check the stock in the storeroom. It’s probably still back there.”

A loud sigh escaped him, and he tossed the parchment he was holding onto the counter. “Of course it’s not where it’s supposed to be,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Why would anything be where I need it today?”

“I can grab it,” you offered, standing up and brushing the dust off your knees. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal, Y/N,” George snapped, cutting you off mid-sentence. His tone was sharp, sharper than you’d ever heard it. “We’ve been behind all day, the shelves are a mess, and now I can’t even find the one bloody thing I need to sort this disaster.”

You froze, blinking at him. George was usually the calm one, the one who could find humor even in the worst situations. But now, his frustration was spilling over, and it was aimed directly at you. “I’m just trying to help,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, maybe you could help by making sure things actually get done for once,” he shot back, his hand running through his already messy hair as he turned away. His words hit like a slap, the sting leaving you momentarily stunned.

The shop fell silent except for the faint rustle of parchment as George busied himself with the stock sheets. He didn’t look at you, too caught up in his frustration to notice the hurt flashing across your face.

Swallowing the lump rising in your throat, you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “I’ll get the inventory list,” you said flatly, not waiting for his response before walking briskly toward the storeroom.

The moment you stepped into the quiet, dimly lit room, you let out a shaky breath. Your hands shook slightly as you rifled through the stack of papers on the desk, finally finding the missing list. You clutched it tightly, replaying George’s words over and over in your mind.

“He’s just stressed,” you muttered to yourself, trying to push down the knot of hurt forming in your chest. “It’s not about me.” But no matter how much you rationalised it, the crack in George’s usual warmth lingered, leaving you feeling more shaken than you wanted to admit.

When you returned to the front, George was still at the counter, hunched over the parchment. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed. You placed the inventory sheet beside him without a word, your hand brushing the edge of the counter as you stepped back.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his tone softer now but still distracted.

You nodded curtly and turned away, biting your lip to keep from saying something you might regret. The rest of the cleanup passed in strained silence, the once-easy rhythm between you and George replaced with an uncomfortable distance. 

The next morning, the shop was eerily quiet, the calm before the storm. The faint scent of leftover fireworks hung in the air as you moved around the store, straightening shelves and mentally preparing for another chaotic day. Your hands worked mechanically, placing products just so, but your thoughts were still on the way George had snapped at you the night before.

You hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning as his words replayed in your mind. George didn’t usually act like that with you, his frustration had always been directed at malfunctioning products or customers with questionable attitudes, never at you. You told yourself it was just stress, but the sting hadn’t faded.

Behind the counter, George was scribbling furiously on a parchment, muttering under his breath. His hair was even messier than usual, sticking up in tufts that he hadn’t bothered to tame. Normally, the sight of him so disheveled would’ve made you smile, but today, the tension between you weighed too heavily.

“You ready to open?” His voice broke the silence, clipped and business-like. He didn’t look up from the parchment.

“Yeah,” you replied simply, grabbing a tray of products to restock near the front. Your voice was quieter than usual, and you didn’t bother trying to fill the silence the way you normally would.

If George noticed your shift in mood, he didn’t show it. He leaned down to check something under the counter, his focus entirely on the task in front of him. You glanced at him briefly, hoping for a flicker of the George you knew, a teasing grin or even just a soft look, but there was nothing. Just the same furrowed brow and tight jaw that had defined him yesterday.

As you worked near the window, the morning sunlight streaming through, you felt his eyes on you for the briefest moment. When you turned to look, he quickly glanced away, pretending to adjust a stack of Skiving Snackboxes.

You let out a soft sigh, turning back to your work. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“What was that?” George’s voice carried over, laced with irritation.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. The last thing you wanted was another argument, especially not before the shop even opened.

He straightened up, crossing his arms. “No, seriously, what was that?” There was a sharpness to his tone again, though it wasn’t as biting as yesterday.

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of the tray in your hands. “I just... I don’t know,” you said finally, your words faltering. “You’ve been on edge lately, and I feel like no matter what I do, it’s wrong.”

George blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I’ve just been busy, Y/N,” he said defensively. “You know how much there is to do around here.”

“I do know,” you said, your voice firmer now. “I’ve been trying to help, but it feels like nothing I do is good enough for you lately.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “It’s not that. look, I just... I don’t have time to deal with this right now.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you looked away quickly, blinking back the prick of tears. “Right. Of course. Why would you?”

Before he could respond, the bell above the door jingled as Fred strode in, whistling cheerfully. He stopped short, looking between you and George with a raised eyebrow. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope,” you said quickly, forcing a smile and grabbing the empty tray. “Just getting ready to open.” You brushed past Fred, making your way to the storeroom without looking back.

Fred turned to his brother, arms crossed. “What’s her deal?”

George exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “She’s just... I don’t know. She’s been weird since yesterday.”

Fred gave him a pointed look. “And what did you do?”

“Nothing!” George said quickly, though the slight waver in his voice betrayed him. “I might’ve snapped at her. Once.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that always works. Fix it before she quits and leaves us to deal with this shit ourselves.”

George mumbled something under his breath, but Fred was already heading toward the back to check on you. George stayed at the counter, staring at the now-empty space where you’d been moments before, a flicker of guilt creeping in.

The shop was a whirlwind of activity again, bustling with customers eager to grab whatever tricks and treats they could get their hands on. It was as if the chaos from yesterday had never ended.

You were stationed near the Skiving Snackboxes, reorganizing the shelves after a group of kids had knocked half the display onto the floor. You worked your wand quickly, but your mind wandered, replaying George’s curt words from earlier in the morning. The sting was still fresh, and every time you caught a glimpse of him behind the counter, it sent another wave of frustration through you.

“Excuse me,” a stern voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a well-dressed woman holding a box of U-No-Poo, her face set in a scowl. “This product doesn’t work as advertised. My son tried it, and it was completely ineffective.”

“Oh, um—” you started, fumbling for a response. “I can help you exchange it or—”

“What’s going on here?” George’s voice cut in, sharp and commanding. He appeared beside you, his eyes narrowing at the customer.

“This product is faulty,” the woman said, holding the box out as if it were toxic.

George crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “I can assure you, there’s nothing wrong with that product. It’s one of our best sellers.”

“Well, it didn’t work for us,” she snapped. “I’d like a refund.”

George’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, you stepped in, your voice calm and measured. “I can take care of this. I’ll replace the box and make sure it’s working properly this time.”

The woman hesitated, then huffed and handed the box over. “Fine.”

You quickly swapped the item for a new one, apologizing politely as she walked away. When she was finally gone, you turned to George, ready to explain, but his scowl deepened.

“Why’d you give her a replacement?” he snapped, his voice low but dripping with frustration. “There was nothing wrong with the product. You should’ve just told her no.”

“I was trying to de-escalate the situation,” you replied, keeping your tone even despite the anger bubbling under your skin. “It’s better to lose one item than have a shouting match in the middle of the shop.”

“That’s not the point, Y/N,” George said, throwing his hands in the air. “We can’t just hand out free products every time someone complains. Do you even think?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and this time, you couldn’t hold back. “Excuse me?” you said, your voice rising slightly. “I’ve been running around this shop all day trying to help, and all you’ve done is criticise me. Do you even realise how hard I’m working here?”

“Hard? Really?” George shot back, his voice louder now. “If you were working that hard, maybe things wouldn’t be such a mess.”

A few customers turned to look at the two of you, their curiosity clear. Heat rushed to your face, and you clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. “You know what? I’m done,” you said, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “I’m going to the back before I say something I’ll regret.”

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and walked briskly toward the storeroom. Your chest felt tight, and your eyes stung, but you refused to let George, or anyone else, see you break.

In the quiet of the storeroom, you sank onto a nearby stool, letting out a shaky breath. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you wiped them away angrily. “Why does he have to be such a prick?” you muttered to yourself, the tension of the past two days finally boiling over.

As you sat there, trying to collect yourself, you couldn’t help but think about how different George had been lately. The playful, kindhearted boy you’d grown close to felt like a stranger now, replaced by someone snappish and impossible to please. It wasn’t fair, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Back in the shop, George stood frozen for a moment, watching the customers go back to their browsing as if nothing had happened. Fred appeared at his side, raising an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”

George sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I might’ve gone too far.”

Fred smirked knowingly. “Might’ve? George, you’re lucky she hasn’t hexed you yet.”

George didn’t respond, but guilt twisted in his stomach as he glanced toward the door you’d disappeared through. He knew he’d crossed a line, he just wasn’t sure how to fix it.

The shop had finally quieted down, the last customer leaving with a cheerful jingle of the bell. The floor was still littered with stray wrappers, and the shelves were half-empty, but at least the day was over. George leaned heavily against the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased all day, and the argument with you earlier kept replaying in his mind like a bad joke he couldn’t laugh at.

Fred tossed a broom at him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Start sweeping, mate. The mess isn’t going to clean itself.”

George caught the broom without looking up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice flat. He moved sluggishly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Fred paused, watching him. “All right, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” George replied quickly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “Just tired.”

Fred didn’t buy it. “Right. Tired. That’s why you’ve been moping around since Y/N stormed off.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “What did you say this time?”

George sighed, leaning the broom against the wall. “I might’ve... lost my temper.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Might’ve?”

“I told her she doesn’t think,” George admitted reluctantly. “And that she’s part of the reason the shop’s a mess.”

Fred let out a low whistle. “Blimey, George. Why don’t you just hand her a resignation letter while you’re at it?”

George groaned, resting his forehead against the counter. “I know, all right? I screwed up. I was stressed, and I took it out on her.”

“Yeah, you did.” Fred’s tone softened, and he gave George a light slap on the shoulder. “You’re not mad at her, you’re mad at yourself. Don’t make her pay for it.”

George didn’t respond, but the guilt gnawed at him. Fred wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at himself for letting the pressure get to him, for losing the lightness that used to make the shop feel like more fun than work. And now, he’d driven you away in the process.

As Fred busied himself with tidying up, George’s eyes drifted to the counter where you usually worked. Sitting there was something small and familiar: the bracelet you always wore, a simple piece of braided string you’d once told him was a good luck charm. You must’ve taken it off during one of your breaks and forgotten to put it back on.

George picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. The sight of it hit him harder than he expected. It was such a small thing, but it was yours, and it made the space feel emptier without you in it.

Fred noticed the shift in his expression and smirked. “Go on, then,” he said, waving him toward the storeroom. “Fix it before she hexes your broomstick.”

George didn’t need more convincing. He slipped the bracelet into his pocket and made his way toward the back, his footsteps slower than usual. When he reached the storeroom door, he hesitated, hand hovering over the handle. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn’t leave things as they were.

The storeroom door creaked open, and you glanced up to see George hesitating in the doorway. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and his hair was even messier than usual, as if he’d been running his hands through it non-stop. His usual confidence was absent, replaced by an almost sheepish expression.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Can we talk?”

You set the rag down and crossed your arms, leaning against the counter. “Go ahead,” you said, your tone distant.

George stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the floor before meeting yours. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words. “Look, I’ve been a complete prat the past couple of days,” he started. “And I owe you a proper apology.”

You didn’t respond right away, letting him stew in the silence. His shoulders sagged slightly, but he pushed on. “I’ve been stressed, yeah, but that doesn’t excuse how I’ve treated you. Snapping at you, blaming you for things that aren’t your fault... it wasn’t fair. You’ve been working your arse off, and I didn’t appreciate it the way I should’ve.”

Your eyes softened slightly, but you didn’t drop your guard just yet. “You really hurt my feelings, George,” you admitted, your voice quiet but firm. “I’ve been doing everything I can to help, and it felt like no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough for you.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I made you feel that way, and I hate that I did. You’re—” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “You’re the best thing about this shop, Y/N. I mean it. Without you, I’d be drowning, and... I don’t know. I think I got so caught up in trying to keep everything perfect that I forgot the most important part.”

Your heart softened at his words, though you weren’t ready to let him off the hook completely. “And what’s the most important part?”

“You,” he said simply, his voice steady now. “You keep me sane. You make this place better—hell, you make me better. I was a git, and I don’t deserve it, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive me anyway.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt your defenses crumble. You studied him for a moment, the tension in his posture, the way his eyes held yours, desperate for some sign that you weren’t still angry.

Finally, you let out a small sigh. “You’re lucky I’m terrible at holding grudges,” you said, the corners of your mouth twitching into a reluctant smile.

George’s face lit up, the weight lifting from his shoulders. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

You pretended to consider it. “Depends. Are you planning to yell at me again anytime soon?”

“Not a chance,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “From now on, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Promise.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. “You’d better be.”

George stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached into his pocket. “Oh, and I thought this might help smooth things over.” He pulled out a small box and set it on the counter in front of you.

You raised an eyebrow, opening the box to reveal one of the shop’s newest products: a miniature fireworks set, charmed to spell out the word Sorry in glowing letters. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Really? An apology firework?”

“Thought it was fitting,” he said with a grin, his usual humor creeping back into his voice. “Plus, it’s limited edition.”

You snorted, but the warmth in your chest outweighed the sarcasm on your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” George said, his grin softening into a smile. “But you like me anyway.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly, but you didn’t deny it. Instead, you stepped around the counter, surprising him with a quick hug. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his hold warm and steady.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you murmured into his shoulder.

“Never,” he promised, his voice low and earnest.

And for the first time in days, the knot of tension between you finally unraveled.

The quiet of the shop was a welcome change, the hum of activity replaced by the soft creaks of the floorboards and the faint rustle of parchment. After your conversation with George, the two of you had worked side by side to finish cleaning up. The tension that had hung in the air for days was finally gone, replaced by a sense of relief and something softer, something closer to what you’d always felt working with him.

You were sitting on one of the stools behind the counter, fiddling with the tiny fireworks set George had given you. He was nearby, organizing the shelves for what must’ve been the third time that evening. Every so often, you caught him glancing at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“So,” George said, breaking the silence, “any plans for dinner? Or are you planning to eat all the leftover Canary Creams?”

You laughed, setting the fireworks box aside. “Not unless I want to spend the night squawking like a bird.”

“Well, you’d be a very charming bird,” he quipped, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated grin.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you like me anyway,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes soft. It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words today, but now, they felt more deliberate, more... certain.

“I guess I do,” you admitted, your cheeks warming slightly. “Though I wouldn’t mind liking you a little more if you treated me to dinner. You know, as a thank-you for not quitting on you this week.”

George’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll even throw in dessert, but only if you promise not to let Fred eat all the pudding before we get there.”

“Pudding and fireworks? You’re really pulling out all the stops, Weasley.”

“Anything for you,” he said, the playfulness in his tone softening into something genuine.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you were both quiet, the weight of his words settling between you. It wasn’t the first time George had been sweet to you, but tonight, it felt different—less like a joke and more like a promise.

“Come on,” he said suddenly, holding out his hand. “Let’s get out of here before Fred decides to start another experiment.”

You hesitated for only a second before slipping your hand into his. His grip was warm and steady, and when he gave you a small tug to pull you to your feet, you didn’t resist.

As you walked toward the door, George reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. With a quick flick, the tiny fireworks set you’d left on the counter sprang to life, bursting into glowing letters that spelled out Thank You in shimmering gold. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“I know you already forgave me,” he said, his voice soft, “but I wanted to make sure you knew how much I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

Your heart swelled, and for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to respond. Instead, you stepped closer, standing on your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek. When you pulled back, George was grinning, his freckles standing out against the faint flush on his face.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

“I’m the luckiest bloke in the world,” he replied, his grin widening as he held the door open for you. “Now, let’s get that dinner before I embarrass myself further.”

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, the shop behind you glowing faintly with the remnants of the firework, you felt lighter than you had in days. George’s hand brushed yours as you walked, and when his fingers finally laced through yours, you didn’t pull away.

Whatever the next day brought, you knew you’d be ready—as long as you had George by your side.

[yelenasdiary]

Angstmas, Kate x fem reader, Kate’s seasonal depression is especially bad this holiday season due to her mom being in jail. She’s already struggling but is trying to hold it together Christmas morning until she spills some hot coco and kinda just has a meltdown. Reader is a sweetheart.

Spilt Emotions

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

Summary: Kate has a breakdown on Christmas morning & you’re there to assure her it’s all going to be okay.

Angst & Fluff

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know! | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x

Holiday Special Masterlist

A modest tree with mismatched ornaments stood in the corner of the small apartment Kate shared with you. The apartment covered with festive spirit and cheerful decorations didn’t keep Kate’s mind from reminding her this Christmas was different. Kate had always loved Christmas, being with family, the food, the way New York City lit up in all different colors, the cozy moments she spent with Lucky and the laughter she shared with friends but this year the holiday brought a chill that was colder than the snow outside.

With her mother, Eleanor, in jail and her father sadly deceased, Kate felt a hollow ache in her chest and no matter how much she tried to hide it, you noticed how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the little things that you noticed, usually Kate would spend some time on the rooftop, admiring the city lights through the falling snowflakes, or how she couldn’t keep her excitement for Christmas traditions tucked away for much longer.

 You didn’t want to push her, you respected she might need some space and hoping that with time, the joy that was buried deep inside the archer would burst and allow her to enjoy the magic of Christmas once again. 

On Christmas morning when the sun beamed through the clouds and the city was peacefully quiet, you woke up early. Kate still sleeping beside you, almost hugging the covers to block out any cold, crisp air from touching her. You smiled softly at how adorable she looked, like a child clinging to their favorite plushie. You slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the kitchen, wanting to surprise her with some hot cocoa to wake her up too. 

Soon enough, the smell of hot coco filled the air and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you placed two tiny marshmallows on top of Kate’s drink. “Katie” you whispered softly, wanting to slowly wake her. Kate stirred, groaning when she felt the slightest bit of cold air touch her. 

“I made you a hot coca baby” you added, carefully getting back into bed, sitting with your legs crossed and the two festive mugs in your hands. Kate’s eyes still heavy with sleep, peeped open for a moment before she offered a weak smile, “thanks, babe” she murmured, trying to keep her eyes open as she slowly began to sit up. “You’re welcome darling” you replied as she wrapped her hands around the mug, feeling the heat on her bare skin. 

“Merry Christmas” you added, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. As Kate turned her head to face you, her mug clipped yours, making the two drinks splash together as the liquid seeped into the bedding. 

“Shit!” Kate exclaimed, her voice in a panic as she quickly placed her mug on the bedside table. 

“Babe, it’s okay, I’ll wash the sheets today” you replied, also placing your mug on your bedside table. The weight of the past few weeks came crashing down on the Archer without a warning, her eyes filled with tears, and she kicked the covers to the end of the bed. “I can’t do this!” She snapped, her voice breaking as her tears began to fall. 

“Everything is just….its…fucked!” She added. Her heart pounding as she stood up, her feet touching the cold floor. “This isn’t how things are supposed to be!” Kate continued, pacing back and forth. 

“Baby, it’s okay, let it out” you replied softly as you watched her endlessly try to make sense of her life now. 

“I’ve been trying so hard to keep it together, I mean, it’s Christmas! I thought I would be okay by now” she sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “but every time I think about mom and everything that happened…..I just –“ she paused, finally coming to a stop as she looked at you. Without a second thought, you stood up and wandered over to her, wrapping your arms around her as she crashed into you. 

“It’s okay Kate, you miss her and that’s more than okay” you said, rubbing your hand up and down her back. “You don’t have to keep anything built up darling, this is your first Christmas without her and it’s been a big year for you” you added. 

“I just…I miss her so much” she sobbed into your shoulder, “I just wanted to a normal Christmas like we always did but it feels like everything is falling apart instead” she added. You held her tighter as she cried, feeling your heart ache for her. “I know it’s not the same but why don’t we go visit her today?” You suggested. 

Kate pulled back, looking at you with her wet, red eyes, “you’d be okay with that?” She asked. 

“Of course, baby, she’s your mother. I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with any of this by yourself. I will always be here, forever” 

Kate leaned back into your arms, feeling the warmth of your body against her as she took a shaky breath, “I would like that” she replied. “I know what she did will never be okay…but I miss her” she added. 

“I know, love” you replied softly.

Gradually, Kate’s sobs became quiet, her heart still heavy from weeks of pushing her feelings down but she stayed hugging you tightly. The spilt coca now completely forgotten about while you continued to rub her back, “I love you” she whispered, her voice still shaky but stronger than moments before. 

“I love you too” you replied, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re so much stronger than you realize, you know?” You added as she pulled back once more. Gently, you cupped her face, wiping her fallen tears, “I want you to remember that you can always count on me, I don’t want you feel like you have to be strong and put together for my sake, okay?” 

Kate nodded lightly, “I’m sorry” she said in an almost whisper. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about Katherine” you assured her. Kate playfully rolled her eyes, “don’t call me that, it’s odd” she said with a light chuckle. 

“But it brought back that beautiful smile so I’m not sorry about it this time” you smiled softly before kissing her deeply. The holiday may not be the fairy tale Kate was hoping for but she knew that with you by her side, a different Christmas tradition wouldn’t be as hard as she thought. 

“Can I make us a fresh hot coca?” She asked as you kindly brushed a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear, “you make the coca and I’ll strip the bed” you smiled softly. 

With that Kate, with Lucky following close behind her, wandered into the kitchen feeling okay about the holidays as a soft smile tugged at her lips.

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[martiansodas-blog]

🐕

sitting on puppy arts face

"please?"

he’d been asking for this for so long, but your response was always,

“i’d crush you.”

or

“it’d be no different than how you always go down on me.”

or

“you’re the one with the upper body strength, not me.”

his hands glide across your thighs in a soothing manner. “cmonnnn. you know how strong i am. i wouldn’t let you crush me.”

your face feels tight, while his hold those rounded eyes that always get him what he wants.

fuck it.

“ok.” you mumble

you swear his ears perk up.

“what?”

“we can do it but you have to promise to tap me if it’s too much.”

he’s worn you down.

how marvelous, he thinks.

“i will. i promise.” he says with a huge smile on his face.

you swallow and scooch up his chest, his shoulders, and then finally his face.

hovering.

you feel so awkward. why do you feel awkward? this is your sweetheart! it’s not like he’s never seen you naked before. he’s just never done… this before.

he repeats the grazing motion with his hands.

the next time he speaks his tone is meek.

“you’re so soft, momma.”

it makes you smile, not that he can see it.

when art puts his mouth on you, it’s all over.

it’s not like all the other times he’s gone down on you. everything’s more intense from up here.

art doesn’t ease you into it either. he’s waited long enough, give him his treat !

pulling on the meat of your thighs to bring you as close as physically possible.

the whole lower half of his face is slippery.

you groan from deep in your throat. throwing your head back and your hair falling behind.

you squeeze your eyes shut.

the only sound besides your incessant moaning is arts tongue going 80 miles per hour.

it’s not far off from a dog slurping up water on a hot day.

his tongue is everywhere. alternating going inside, sucking on each lip, and bullying your clit. he’s not going to leave any party out, he’s a good boy !

how the fuck he’s able to fit a whole one of your lips in his mouth you have no idea. he has had lots of practice to be fair.

“fuck,” you cry and grip his boyish curls “i can’t-“

your chest is heaving. it’s so warm in your belly. it feels sweet, almost.

he moans just as loud as you. they would be, at least, if they weren’t muffled.

“please, momma,” he catches his breath, “let me have a taste of your cum. let me finish you off.” he pleads.

you lean your forehead on the cool headboard infront of you. catching your breath but never stopping the grind of your hips.

he’s trying to slurp all your juices up but some drip down his chin and neck.

he adores the feeling. it gives him goosebumps.

cool and sticky. and it smells so good, he thinks he’s high.

this is the only drug he’ll ever crave.

“my favorite treat.” he all but sings.

then art does something he hasn’t before.

at least not in front of you.

he starts wiggling his hips back in forth. just a little bit but it’s consistent and noticeable. almost like he’s wagging an imaginary tail.

“m’gonna cum.”

that’s probably arts favorite phrase in the whole world.

half of him wants to slow down and make this last longer. but the other half, the half that will end up winning, wants to be showered in cum.

he focuses solely on your clit now. he can’t help but just take a tiny.. baby nibble. it’s just so cute and bite sized !! it’s such a fun chew toy for him.

it completely shocked you and made you yelp.

that’s what makes the coil in your stomach snap.

he knew it would.

you forget how to breathe for a moment. you freeze, seemingly weightless. your whole body going limp.

you screech and are trying to get away, it’s too much. but also trying to bury him deeper because nothings ever felt this good.

the aftershocks last a long time. you crouch there with your mouth open and every hair on your body standing up.

he took a moment to stare at the aftermath. he’s mesmerized. very proud of his hard work. and he decides that’s his new favorite color.

it’s spread on your thighs, dripping down your ass.

neither of you are surprised . art is a messy eater.

without warning, art eats the cum from your weeping pussy. making you convulse and arch your back.

“uhhh!!”

he can’t help himself :(

“artie-“ you pant “too much.”

“just a little more,” he begs “this part tastes different.”

he doesn’t wait for you to respond. usually you’d scold him for this lack of manners but you weren’t about to pretend he wasn’t taking you to nirvana.

currents of electricity flow through your veins, you can visualize it. you’re not sure who’s having more fun: you or art.

when he’s done feasting, he manhandled your weak body so you’re properly laying down. he crawls up to your face. giving you puppy kisses aka big licks on your cheek. licks that coincidentally smell like you.

it breaks you out into a chuckle.

“thank you, baby” you say petting his hair

“thank you, are you kidding?”

you realize how much… everything is on his face.

“you’re messy.”

your genuine laughter is contagious.

“can you blame me?”

you shake your head.

he slowly laid his head on your naked chest. eyes already drooping.

“my babyyy,” you cooed.

he let out a faint happy noise into your skin.

“took such good care of mommy,”

“hnnnh”

“that’s right, you’re a good boy.”

you placed a peck on his forehead.

“lud you, mommy,” he mumbled, eyelids fighting to stay open. “so much…”

“aw, i love you too sweet pea.”

you gave his head scratches till he was out cold.

he fell asleep with your nipple in his mouth that night.

puppied out.

[n0tamused]

Hello, can I ask you about Wuwa men with a reader similar to Acheron from HSR? I mean also suffering from such a blessing, loss of taste, colors and memory 🥹

A/n: Sorry for the small wait! I do hope you enjoy this mixed bag of everything lol, I was a bit around the place and yapping. I haven't been able to play WuWa since this summer due to storage problems so these were written with the knowledge I have from the older versions lol.

Contents: Jiyan/Aalto/Xiangli Yao/Mortefi/Calcharo x GN!Reader(separate) that is like Acheron, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, not proof-read, some of these are shorter than the others as I wasn't feeling particularly motivated for them all equally, sorry

Ko-fi

Jiyan

-It does not take too long for the General of the Midnight Rangers to catch on to your odd persona, “odd” is not the word he’d use, but with the lack of a proper terminology to describe his feeling with the initial encounter he has not much choice but to use it

-He is wary of you, but not unkind, as he usually is with newcomers that seemingly do not visibly come in blazing and wishing to oppose him and all he stands for

-There is a sense of understanding about him when it comes to you, he can practically sense the emptiness that surrounds you and that deep look in your eyes tells him that there is much more to you, something both dangerous and intriguing. Some time may pass before it becomes a routine of sorts to converse with you on a regular basis, and when it also becomes a habit for you despite your fading memory.

-Jiyan never held your weak memory against you, it was one of the things that pointed to something else that he wished to uncover through your blossoming relationship. Even if that thing stood alone as a characteristic of your, he was already enraptured by you, he wanted to help you where he could

-In private and with intimate relationships, Jiyan can be a man of fewer words than when he is on the battlefield with so many eyes on him. Being General means being a performer to a certain extent as well, but with you he can just leave that stage and be himself

-With someone who has lost the sense of taste and the eye for color he tends to hold onto some thread of hope that you’ll be cured of it, be it by his hand or someone else’s. He watches your movements and your mannerisms for any sign of improvement and gets rather excited if he ever spots some, even if it may not be a really big deal to you or anyone else. 

-Jiyan doesn’t share the same condition as you, but he understands the feeling of losing something and someone. He knows what it feels like to be adrift without a clear direction. So, he might silently mourn the fact that you can no longer enjoy the small things like colors, tastes, or memories, because he’s had his own form of loss and he felt the pain on his own skin. What he can do is try and dull any pain you might feel, or distract you from it, although he genuinely hopes you are not in pain at all.

-While you may forget past conversations  or dates, forgetting such things for Jiyan is a scarce event. He holds every memory close to him,  especially if he finds himself far away from you, on distant battlefields where he can only hope you haven’t forgotten about him. But there is also a poetic way to his thinking when it comes to this - if you do, in fact, forget him, he can always start again. He’d never tire, and he’d keep doing it all as long as you’d let him. 

-He does leave notes for you around the house that can be quite detailed depending on the context, hoping to help you with the daily routine even while he is away from you. 

-Though your memories are gone or fading and your senses have all but dulled, Jiyan would help you rediscover joy in small, often overlooked things. While you can't taste food anymore, he might make it a habit to cook you a meal, hoping that somehow you can still feel the texture or the warmth of the food, and there’s of course the health aspect to it too. And while you can't see colors, he might describe the world in such detail that you feel as though you're experiencing it through his eyes. He also helps you with your outfits if you ask him to! He may not be some fashionista but he can be of good help. In winter he does tend to mother you a bit, telling you to always dress warmly even if you may not feel as cold.

-If he ever came to see you use your “blessing” in combat, he’d be shocked, then in cautious awe. If anyone understands that great power comes with a great cost - it is him.

-You may hold power to move mountains, but Jiyan would always be there to jump in first and protect you.

Aalto

-Aalto would have come to know you through all the various branches of information he perches on, he knew you before had met you in person, but that does not erase his unending curiosity and skepticism

-He is tactical yet unassuming in his approach to you, stepping carefully to see where you stand with him. He is quick to adjust if need be, as in the end, the last thing he needs to happen is you marking him as your enemy and possibly wiping the floor with him

-As mentioned, he does approach you with a certain curiosity, he is guarded and cautious. He has heard and read so much about you but to him this concept of being “blessed” in such a way by an entity unheard of in the whole world is strange at best. There was so much yet so little, at times he was unsure what to think

-Aalto is a whimsical fellow, as we all know, but that is a part of his own public persona. No one would really suspect such a guy of any ulterior motive, and it is a character that has bought him a way into so many places

-It comes as a bit of a surprise to him when he meets you next time and you don’t seem to remember him or parts of your prior conversation. He is questioning whether this is done on purpose to send him a signal you are not interested, but soon he does realize that it is really something serious and not done of your own violation

-Aalto is used to navigating difficult situations with tactical precision, and he prides himself on his ability to control and influence outcomes. However, when faced with someone like you- someone whose condition is so profound and deeply entrenched- he might feel a sense of helplessness. His usual methods of fixing things or controlling situations wouldn’t work on you. He might even feel frustrated by his inability to do anything tangible to heal or help you reclaim you’ve already lost

-But with that being said, Aalto would definitely try and help you in the later stages of your relationship to look for some cure, or at least something to lessen this curse. Even at the start he may point to some cures you can try out. It is not an easy thing to live with and it certainly is not comfortable either. He may not completely understand it, even with the abundance of information he has, it is still unknown territory, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He never appears too stoic however, and likes to keep a lighthearted tone around you in hopes that at least his jokes and laid back demeanor can keep you calm and entertained, even if for a while, even if you’ll forget eventually

-Aalto would want to bring you “back to life” in some way, but his methods might be a bit unconventional and rather bold when it comes to it. Rather than using gentle persuasion like Jiyan, Aalto might  try pushing you more directly, testing your limits, teasing, and seeing how far he can go to provoke a reaction.  He may put salt instead of sugar in your food and hope you notice and scold him for it.

-This could come across as both intense and a bit intrusive at times, like a water that’s just about to burst with a boil, but it’s never done out of malice. He’d never do something that would cause you harm. He’d  just want to know if there’s any spark left in you, any piece of yourself that could be awakened, and if there’s even a small sand-sized spark, he is more than willing to put all his efforts out to make it shine brighter

-While initially, Aalto might be driven by curiosity and perhaps a need for control, over time he might develop a deeper, more nuanced understanding of your condition. He would begin to realize that there’s no quick fix, no immediate solution or cure for you, and that the journey to healing is one that requires time and patience. This does make him soften, in a rather sad way in which he has to eventually accept this no matter how much he wants to keep fighting for you

-But he is more than willing to be patient, holding that hope at the back of his mind instead of making it his very sole goal. He understands that watching him jump from place to place can also be exhausting for you to see.

-In terms of your memory loss Aalto would take lots of pictures, although sadly not many would include him due to his work, but there would be his handwriting on the back of printed pictures and silly doodles as well, some also done by Encore who has grown quite fond of you

-He leaves flowers for you. After a time he also bought you a plastic potted plant, just so you can have something that lasts, as the last time he bought you a real potted plant it didn’t really live long

-He jokes about it, but he never took it to heart lol he is chill

Mortefi

-It is a bit of a lucky strike of fate that brought you two to meet, considering Mortefi doesn’t exactly go out of his way to meet new people. It would probably be Baizhi or some other that brings you to the Academy, and that is when he’d first get a sense of something different, that void that followed you like a shadow

-It is unclear to him whether this is something he is imagining or if it was something real, but as it is not exactly his field of research, he does not pursue his twinge of intrigue from there

-That is until Baizhi brings it up in conversation at a later date, something about this anomaly in your being, something that went beyond simple ailment of health. It puzzled her. And that conversation with Baizhi did leave a lasting taste in his mouth for days to come, even if Baizhi did not reveal anything confidential to him or anything concrete. 

-When he meets you eye to eye he does question you a little bit about what you’re doing at the Academy again, and a conversion flows from there on out as you wait for Baizhi to come and check on you again. He wasn’t the warmest of people to converse with, but he was cordial and didn’t leave you alone in the middle of the Academy. He could tell from your mannerisms and from what you told him in the conversation that you didn’t exactly.. know what’s going on, and by that he also figured out your memory wasn’t the strongest. You made mention of getting a message from Baizhi that very morning, a reminder for you to come in, and he may have snuck a peak at your phone and saw there was more than one reminder before that one. It was a brief glance

-After your checkup, he does coincidentally meet you in the halls again and asks you about it, seemingly a little more softer but still blunt and hardy on the outside 

-Mortefi wouldn’t be the type to offer overly emotional comfort. His understanding of loss or suffering would be intellectual rather than empathetic. He has lost a lot in his life as well, but he has always been forced to suppress his feelings, which led to outbursts somewhere later down the line.  However, his form of sympathy wouldn’t  be wholly detached but rather perceptive. He would sense that your condition is more than just a physical or psychological issue- it’s a fundamental disconnect from the world and your own spirit

- He might not express his sympathy outwardly, but there would be moments when his cold demeanor falters, and he would quietly acknowledge the sadness of your condition, even if he doesn’t directly verbalize it. He grows fond of you, and he takes a while to realize it too. He doesn’t want to believe it at first either - it is simply not logical to him, it doesn’t make sense, and intimate relationships always came hard to him anyway

-Mortefi would offer to make something for you that would help you with remembering things, he would even try to craft a special pair of glasses that would allow you to see colors, a special candy that would allow you to taste certain things..etc. He would try whatever his imagination would bring up, and it wouldn’t be rare to catch him staying up at night, trying to realize this idea into reality

-The loss of memory might fascinate Mortefi the most. He would be intrigued by how a person can live without the things that form their identity. If you think about it, everyone is just a well of memories which form not only their person, but their approach to the world around them. That includes Mortefi as well.  If you don’t remember your past, it could mean you’re an empty vessel- a blank slate and therefore easily impressionable, in some way or another. He sees this as risky, so Mortefi may become rather easily irritated, or even anxious in some way, if you stop responding to his messages or if he hasn’t seen you in some time. 

-Could be that you just forgot to text him… but that doesn’t stop him from worrying 

-He may get a little irritated at you forgetting certain things or being late to appointments and such, but he understands this isn't done by your own choosing, so his anger is redirected at things that actually deserve his anger

Xiangli Yao

-Sweet Xiangli Yao, although when he meets you, and you're no more than another stranger to him, he still feels a sense of empathy for you. However threatening and dark that sense of emptiness that surrounds you is, it is just that which draws him in. Could he make it disappear? 

-Xiangli Yao’s first reaction would be one of deep empathy. He is someone who feels others' pain deeply and would immediately recognize the gravity of your suffering. The loss of your senses and memory would weigh heavily on him.

-Of course, at the start he does not know all the details of you situation, he is quite hopeful and eager to help in whatever way he can, so when he finds out this was put upon you by a power higher even than of the sentinel, it is safe to say he feels a bit hopeless. His mind comes at a stop, like rusted cogwheels that he desperately tries to get moving again. Creaks and squeaks are all he gets in return for a while

- His first instinct would be to reach out to you, not just to understand your condition but also to offer support, even if he doesn't know how to fix things right away

-Unlike other people who might approach your condition with curiosity or detachment to satisfy their own curiosity, Xiangli Yao would actively search for ways to help you heal or regain some semblance of the things you've lost. He would likely spend time learning about your condition, asking you about how you feel or what you remember, even if your memory doesn’t work the same way. His compassionate nature would drive him to research ways to restore or help you find balance in a world without your senses and memories

-Given his ability to read people and understand emotions on a deeper level, and with him being made of a rather soft and nurturing nature, Xiangli Yao would be sensitive to how you’re feeling. He’d be able to pick up small cues and mannerisms you may display, reading you like an open book

-Even if you don't express your emotions outwardly due to your condition, he would be able to sense the subtle cues - whether it’s the way you carry yourself or even your tone of voice when you speak. This is even more amplified the more time you spend together with each other. In either case, Xiangli Yao would adapt his approach accordingly, offering emotional support without pushing you to confront anything you're not ready for 

-Xiangli Yao's sense of duty and his protective nature would kick in when he realizes the extent of your condition. He would be willing to make sacrifices to help you - whether it’s giving up his time, his resources, or even putting himself in danger to find a cure for you. You may be able to protect yourself, but if he can avoid putting you in a situation where you're forced to do so, he'd do just that. He'd rather be the one fighting than let you fight 

-His deep belief in looking out for others, especially those who are vulnerable or hurting, would mean that he would go to great lengths to make sure you’re taken care of, even if it means putting his own needs aside

-Xiangli Yao’s care for you is gentle and affectionate in subtle yet really warm ways, but he would respect your boundaries. He wouldn’t overwhelm you with his affections, but he would express his care in small, meaningful gestures like sending you sweet messages through the little robot he makes for you, and in the same manner he’d send you voice messages too. Similarly to Jiyan he might take to a habit of leaving notes around the house and little treats as well. Even if you can’t taste them, he hopes you’ve enjoyed the little game of hunt for them

-If you'd allow him, he'd hold your hand as you walk around as he tells you about streets you've passed through before if you've forgotten. He'd quietly remind you of the names of others if you need the help and he'd never put you in a situation that would be embarrassing for you, that's the last thing he wants you to feel, especially since this curse is not something you would've wished for if it was up to you. Sure, it gives you great power, but at what cost..? Is it really worth it?

Calcharo

-When first learning of your suffering, he might simply nod, his face calm but with a subtle furrow in his brow. He wouldn’t rush to comfort you or find out more immediately, but instead, he would want to assess whether your condition is something that can be cured or if it's just part of who you are now, or if it something that threatens his work. His mind would be working quickly, formulating potential ways to help, but he would remain quiet, choosing his words carefully

-Despite his stoic nature, Calcharo would feel a strong sense of responsibility toward you, especially if he perceives you as vulnerable. He might not openly show his concern, but he would take steps to ensure that you are protected and taken care of

-Calcharo's emotional distance doesn't mean he’s cold or indifferent to your suffering. He’s simply more reserved and slow to let his guard down. However, as he sees your struggle, a quiet protectiveness would begin to form. He is not emotionless, he’s just buried his hard deep into his duty and deeper still

- He would keep his distance in terms of expressing emotions, but he would become more protective of you, watching your movements, ensuring that you don’t push yourself too far, and subtly stepping in when you need help. He does have eyes and ears everywhere, and may give some of them the task of keeping an eye out for you if he is in a situation where he can’t lend you his supports, due to his missions and duty

-While he may understand quite early on that the power you possess may go over the limit of his own imagination, he would step in to take over instead, telling you to go and wait for him elsewhere. He is rather gruff yet coldly calm in his command to you, he does not play around with work, and especially when it comes to you

-Seeing as he has a..demon of his own, he would come to compare your two conditions over time and correlate them as well, growing a greater understanding of you even if the two conditions don’t equal one another. He can only use his own knowledge to try and understand your experience, and that is the only way he knows

-As mentioned, Calcharo is quite stumped emotionally, he has a hard time expressing himself, so vocally you shouldn’t expect much from him, but if you need any work done, he is your guy

-If he doesn’t know how to do xyz, he most definitely knows another guy that does! Must be magic/j. That being said,his love language is definitely acts of service 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[krashlite]

BigB concepts!

as always, design notes under the cut ehehe

Animal: Deer

FACE/HEAD

the lower part of his face/head is a little narrower than the upper part to try and match the head shape of a deer

^^^ same reason for his nose and mouth being lower on his face

that being said, this is a bit of a wonky head shape so I had his hair and beard even out his silhouette a little

his half mustache(?) is meant to look like the lil markings deer typically have around their nose

I gave him some cornrows in the shape of antlers! They're bleached but not toned because I thought the brassier color looked a bit closer to actual antlers (but might mess with them being lighter)

his facial cues are a bit different! He usually only moves one part of his face at a time (so Just his eyes or Just his eyebrows or Just his mouth). His pupils are where most of his expression comes from

similar thing with his ears! Except with his ears being expressive, I thought it would be fun to give him a series of "how?? are you doing that??" traits that are subtle, but definitely there. Most people can't consciously move their ears, but in an animated or cartoonish setting it's not something you notice right away

BODY TYPE

smaller torso, slightly wider abdomen. I wanted him to have smaller limbs in comparison to his body (again for that deer imagery) so him having a liiiittle bit of a tummy hopefully accomplishes this

his joints are a little more exaggerated on his knees, wrists, and ankles (but this isn't seen that often)

much smaller hands in comparison to other characters to try and match hoof proportions

does have a bit of a longer neck but this isn't seen as much

CLOTHES

Business casual except it's been shifted slightly to the left so it's odd, but not off-putting. On paper he has the most normal outfit of the people around him, but he's done it in the most confusing way possible

his button-up has these really poofy sleeves that don't match the size of the shirt so it doesn't bunch up under his vest like you'd expect it to

cookie button!

one of his socks is folded down?? This is something he intentionally did????

he has capris and the zipper? fly? is off-center

his jeans also don't actually have pockets, it's the fake pockets that a lot of women's jeans have

his shoes are shaped in a way that he can do pointe- was originally just going to have him walk on his toes (because hooves are technically toes) but I think this is funnier because when and why did he learn this and how is he able to do it so casually

also at first glance he's wearing dress shoes but they're closer to sandals

his watch isn't a watch at all, it's a compass with clock markings (I may or may not have pulled this from one piece). Someone asks him for directions and he checks the time or they ask for the time and he checks his watch and shrugs

[chickenkurage]

DAY 3: TRUST ISSUES/FORCED PROXIMITY

Farmer Alan AU

Summary: Alan and DJ’s life around the 1940’s. Their relationship in the beginning was never so wholesome in the first place....

Tag/s: Hurt/Comfort, Trust Issues, Injuries, Suicide Ideation, Violence, Thoughts of killing, Unhealthy Relationships

There weren't many beings that Test Subject 1 trusted, not even his creator. That scientist had forced him to do such things—to be created as a weapon was the last thing he had desired. To them, he was just a weapon, a test subject, a mere object.

He felt like nothing, and he wanted to escape.

Having been there for so long, awaiting a new mission, a task where he would spy on some Americans, observe them, infiltrate their systems, and gather more information than his creators could ever imagine.

Was he meant to do this forever?

A mere tool for them to exploit until he could no longer serve his purpose, to be discarded and replaced by a new one?

"Hey," the other stick figure called, red in color, sharing a form almost identical to his. They were alike, differing only in color and abilities.

"What?" Subject 1 croaked, turning to him, his throat aching from the smoke he had generated while frying the American’s computer. His hand trembled, his mouth still tasting of ash from burning those useless codes.

"Are you okay?" the other stick figure asked, tilting his head as he slowly moved closer, sitting beside him. The black hollow-headed figure eyed him closely, hands twitching. He didn't trust him, but he too had been created recently and had been on missions spying on humans.

"Hmm," Subject 1 mumbled, not particularly keen on conversation.

He had never been much interested in talking, never having used his vocal cords for speech. Subject 1 hadn't even known he could produce sounds until this other figure arrived and started speaking to him.

"Are you bored?" the red hollowhead asked again, tilting his head and staring at Subject 1, who turned to look at him, studying his face.

It seemed as if he enjoyed irritating him. This notion furrowed Subject 1's brows and made him clench his teeth.

Should I just end him? Put an end to his pointless suffering; perhaps he would be grateful afterward. Subject 1 pondered, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists.

Being manipulated by humans was far from exciting or enjoyable. Subject 1 knew this firsthand, as he did not experience such things. Excitement? Fun? Those concepts did not exist for him. Only pain, death, and suffering...

"Do you want to spar?" the red hollowhead suggested, his hands clasped in eager anticipation.

Spar? Why would he want to spar with me? Subject 1 wondered. He had defeated him numerous times already, and he didn't find pleasure in it. In truth, he felt remorseful; it was evident that the red hollow-headed figure was unaccustomed to such brutal fighting.

"Why?" Subject 1 rasped, coughing once more as dark smoke billowed from his mouth, his throat tightening as he watched the red hollow-headed figure lean back, waving a hand to disperse the smoke that made Subject 1 cough.

"Are you okay?" he asked, placing a hand on Subject 1's shoulder, which Subject 1 pushed away a bit more forcefully than intended. Still coughing, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, the red hollow-headed figure let out a small hum, now patting Subject 1's back as the coughing subsided, replaced by deep breaths.

"Maybe not today, huh?" he remarked with a small chuckle as Subject 1 turned to face him. "Not today," Subject 1 mumbled, rubbing his throat in an attempt to soothe the ache and itch on his vocal cords.

Is this the result of not speaking? Interesting...

"You know, it's been a while since I was created, yet—I never caught your name," the red hollowhead mentioned, his hand returning to his lap, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb on his knuckles.

Subject 1 exhaled heavily, letting out a small sigh and a huff.

He's quite chatty.

"Just Subject 1," Subject 1 replied quietly, swallowing hard as he lightly giggled before it turned into a small chuckle. "Subject 1? You never gave yourself a name?" the red hollow-headed figure inquired as the other turned to him.

"No," he answered in a whisper, causing the red figure to stop laughing, thinking he must be joking. He let out a small breath of apology, "Sorry—I thought—" he stammered, waving his hand nervously, prompting Subject 1 to huff in amusement.

He waved his hand, indicating that he didn't mind.

"Alright—do you want a name? I chose one for myself," he offered, pointing to his chest as Subject 1 sighed.

Does he want a name? Not really. He sees no need for a name when no one here bothers to use it. "You should have a name so I don't have to keep calling you Subject 1," he suggested.

Clapping his hands together, the sound reverberating through the space, causing Subject 1 to suppress the urge to flinch. His hackles rose once more, but when he heard a soft whisper of apology from the other, Subject 1 decided to lean back again.

"Do you want a name?" he inquired, turning to face Subject 1.

If he's insisting so much, why not?

"Go ahead, any name will do," Subject 1 murmured, leaning back, closing his eyes, and savoring the burn he felt. He stretched his aching legs and cracked his fingers.

He heard the other mumbling to himself, silently snapping his fingers as he hurried to think of a suitable name. Perhaps he was taking this more seriously than Subject 1 had anticipated.

"You know, there's a TV show I watched," the red hollowhead mentioned, prompting Subject 1 to open his eyes and turn to him. "Mhm," Subject 1 hummed, mildly interested in the conversation.

Rest sounded inviting, but it might be impolite to just stand up and retreat to the other corner of the space to sleep while the red hollow-headed figure continued to chat beside him. Subject 1 pondered, his thoughts drifting as weariness and sleep clouded his mind.

"His name was Alan, and he's a really good actor," the red hollowhead explained, gesturing as he spoke. Subject 1 nodded, emitting a small hum. The name Alan sounded pleasant—simple and not too extravagant. I like it, he thought.

"Does Alan sound good to you?" the red hollowhead asked as Subject 1—Alan—nodded half-heartedly. "Great! Then you can call me DJ. Nice to meet you, Alan," DJ said, extending his hand towards Alan, who gazed at it before shaking it.

They had been confined together for almost three weeks, and perhaps this was the first formal introduction they had exchanged.

"Alan, nice to meet you," Alan replied, clearing his throat as he exhaled more smoke, which DJ casually waved away, letting out a small giggle.

"I hope we get to work together more," DJ expressed, to which Alan simply hummed in response.

. . . .

He should have been more cautious and less eager to please. Alan was never one to seek approval eagerly. However, he had noticed that their creators tended to be calmer and kinder to them when their missions were successful.

Consequently, Alan had been working diligently to achieve success, aiming to find tranquility away from the confining black box they were always thrown into.

Conversing with DJ was enjoyable, but he longed for his own space, his own spot to rest. A box with only four corners could only accommodate so much for the two of them, especially with DJ persistently urging him to spar then and there.

Or the sounds the other would make if Alan had beat him, the painful whine, and whimper. The small cries… 

It was becoming wearisome.He hated hearing it, he hated hurting–

"Alan, are you okay?" DJ whispered, crouching over him. Alan let out an involuntary groan, gesturing for him to back off, his stomach paining and his leg twitching.

He had come close to being deleted, almost becoming one of those codes he had burned. He should have been quicker.

"Alan—" DJ began, placing a hand on the black hollowhead's shoulder, feeling him tense, seizing his arm. "DON'T touch me," Alan growled, teeth clenched, suppressing the fire that threatened to erupt from his mouth, not wanting to accidentally harm DJ.

"Al..." DJ said, using that pet name again, the term the other had given Alan. As if they were close friends, which they weren't, were they? DJ acted as if they were friends… something intimate, as if they didn't attempt to harm each other when their creators grew bored of them.

With no mission to undertake, Alan and DJ would be forced to fight against each other until their bodies failed them, leading them back into the black box once again.

There they would be back to lick their wounds and hide away for the rest of the hour, days, or if they are lucky… weeks.

"Sorry—" DJ whispered, seated beside Alan, who was still struggling to catch his breath, his chest heaving, his mouth emitting black smoke and red fire intermittently, causing DJ to move back due to the intense heat.

"Sorry," Alan coughed, pulling himself up to the wall next to DJ, who simply shook his head, observing as Alan shivered, his body trembling, his leg twitching, one hand pressed against his stomach as if he had been stabbed there.

"Let me help you," DJ offered, rubbing his hands together. He felt Alan's gaze on him. "What—?" Alan croaked, sounding surprised by DJ's offer.

"Let me help you," DJ repeated, turning towards the black hollowhead who was almost scorching holes in his face with his gaze.

He could likely assist, considering he had witnessed Alan using a laser on him that came from his eyes. DJ still felt the lingering burn on his arm from where it had struck him before; although it had healed, he couldn't forget the scent of his flesh burning and the sheer pain of trying to mend it.

Alan remained silent, focusing on his twitching leg. DJ interpreted this as consent, rising to his knees and examining Alan's leg, his hand hovering over his pants.

Glancing at Alan, who watched him closely, seemingly prepared for an attack with his fists clenched at his sides, ready to push DJ away if he tried to harm him.

"Relax," DJ reassured, placing a hand on Alan's knee and patting it gently, causing Alan's body to gradually unwind. "Sorry—it's difficult to know whether we're fighting or on good terms," Alan whispered, as DJ winced.

That is true; most of the time, they fight or are forced to fight. Even their training sessions felt like they were aiming for each other's throats. Sharing the same sleeping space felt as though one would carefully and slowly strangle the other.

There were many times Alan found DJ staring down at him, his clawed hand close to Alan’s neck, one move and blood would spill out from Alan’s throat.

There are many days where neither of them sleeps, both wary of each other.

"It's okay, I'm here to help you now, and that's what matters," DJ whispered, hearing Alan exhale a sigh, finally reassured that they weren't about to engage in a fight. "Okay," Alan breathed out, his breath hitching as DJ touched his leg.

"That's good," Alan murmured, his eyes slowly drifting shut.

[artnerd1123]

It’s that time again lads! End of the year means go back and look at what I made thru the months.

Reflection (and past years) undercut!

This year was… a year, for sure X] for 7 of the months up here, I only had one finished (aka inked and colored) piece- if that. A big slow down from every year before. I at least managed to sketch/doodle some things each month (it was all I did for February and April), which I’m proud of myself for doing! But. Yeah. Creative juice has been… running a bit low, on the art front.

On that note- I’d like to give a big shoutout to the lovely people who commissioned me this past year! Two of the months here, y’all were my finished pieces! And u guys always manage to keep my skills at least a little honed during a dry spell <3

Man. I’m trying to think of a proper reflection for what happened this year. So much, but also mostly just… trying to get by.

I helped two of my best friends (one of which is my gf) move across the country into my house. I hit the one year mark at a job I no longer work. I got a new cat. Two new ones, technically (though one came with my bestie-turned-roomie). I crashed hard from exhaustion more than a few times. I got married. I threw up on an early + hours long drive home because my parents said they wouldn’t come to the wedding. I missed thanksgiving. I was early for Christmas. I’ve been in and out of mental fog all year. I hit the three year mark for the story I’ve been writing. I reworked and redesigned beloved blorbos, started and replayed games new and old, finally got my hands on a few box sets of shows I adore. I spent as much time as I was able with my friends, even if it wasn’t as much as I’d have liked.

But most of all? I survived.

With the help of my loved ones (friends, some family, my gfs, my husband) I learned a lot, stayed on track, and made it through all the gloom to this December.

Where I finally started working in the field I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid 🖤

Life goes on. And so do I. So do we.

Here’s to another year, eh?

Let’s see what this one brings together 🖤

(Also here’s 8 years worth of art summaries :wheeze: from the year I started posting art here on tumblr until now! Hot damn it’s nearly been a decade! Wait. Wait, actually, hold on almost a decade what the fu-)

[starrenati]

The end of december is the worst part of year, nothing is going to change my mind, but at least I can write chapters under pretty lights instead of just with the light of my laptop screen.

Chapter XVIII

"Amplify"

He walked through the vast space of nothingness. Silver boots clinking over a floor that wasn’t really there. Three pairs of black wings folded behind his back, resembling a fluffy cape of his majestic coat. He was humming a melody to himself, the spear laying in his hand just in case some lost Rifthound would try its power against him. It was rare but puppies tended to be a bit against all the rules that were already established. He sat down on the throne, his wings falling to their places, looking almost like a part of this beautiful structure. With hand resting against his folded hand, feeling the cold of his metal talons underneath his skin, he sighed, looking into the vast darkness. 

The plan went wrong. Very wrong even, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to cover it all up from Him. Vision of getting his wings torn off wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, and that’s what was in store for him, for creating life that wasn’t meant to be created. Even more with using human as a vessel.  To cover up even better, to make it look like an accident, like it was never meant to end like this, but now he was here, worrying over something that should’ve died a long time ago. Maybe the resilience was way better than he anticipated at first. Yes, his fault, he was meant to kill it soon after its first breath? Why? It was faulty to begin with. Weak, failed in many fields, just… Just a failed product. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so, something stopped him, and now he was left with a huge problem roaming the earth. Well, not anymore, but the point still stands. 

He raised his spear sharply, in seconds after hearing a sound by his ear. He looked to the side, eyes on the middle part of smaller wings squinting due to the sharp light. Good that his veil was still in place, and he didn’t have to look at her through his real eyes. Terrible sight anyway. 

“Isna. What do you want?” 

“I just came down to check on you, Iaoth. Don’t be so grumpy. What bites you so hard? I can barely force the sun to shine over some universes that are closer to you.” 

“Nothing. Go away before I decapitate you.” 

He barked back. Nothing like a sister's visit, but that was actually the way worse option. So bright and colorful, like a rainbow puked all over her body. Always so damn happy, and without her Veil, staring back at him with sickeningly pink eyes. His complete opposite, and probably the worst enemy already. If only he could rip her wings away and get rid of her in place of for example, Perceiver. Oh he missed his brother dearly, that much was without a doubt, but there are always consequences of the actions you take on. Unfortunately. 

“Oh come on, speak. Is it about your little one? Weren’t you meant to kill it? He is not going to be happy about it.” 

“Shut it and go away. You really can’t tell when you’re not welcome anymore, huh?” 

He got up, his feathers ruffled, eyes on smaller wings open and filled with anger. Sure, he made a mistake, but it’s been going on for years already, why bother about it now? If anything, for sure He already knew, which could mean He was either waiting for the right time to start the eternal punishment, or there was something going much deeper than that. Iaoth was afraid of the second option even more than about the first one. Punishment was something expected, something he took into account in case it would happen, but the other option? Not really. What could He want from this failed child? From an embodiment of mistake? There was barely anything to offer, yet, maybe just like the child of Void, He saw her power and wanted it for him? Though it would probably kill the little one in the process. 

“So what do you plan to do now? Just wing it and hope for the best?” 

“For now everything is fine. Don’t you have some important matters to attend to?”

He squeezed the spear harder in his hand, an obsidian blade gleaming in the faint light of Isna’s hair. She just nodded her head, disappearing into nothingness once more, finally taking the hint. Once more he was enveloped by well known darkness and the rush of thoughts in his mind. 

Hunger. Hungry. Starving. HUNGRY! Alice massaged her temples trying to understand what she was hungry for. It wasn’t regular food. Maybe it wasn’t the most delicious breakfast that she just ate, but it was something, and a lot even, making her nauseous right now, and heavy. Overall not really that fun of an experience. Yet there was that lingering hunger, biting at her from every part of her body, making it almost unbearable to sit in one place without growling at any movement around her. Literally growling. Like some mad dog. 

“Can you stop? You’re getting loud again and it’s annoying.” Cassandra spoke from over her tea cup. 

“Shut up.” Alice growled back at her, her red eyes immediately snapping towards the other woman. 

Cassandra frowned hearing that. Oh definitely that girl was pulling her strings lately and that was just pure disrespect right now. Yet, she kept calm, setting her teacup down and tilting her head to the side with a mocking smile, before starting to speak. 

“What? Are you going crazy? You don’t like the Void after all?” She said with an overly sweet voice, wanting to toy with her a bit. Seeing the anger only rises. “Or do you want to take over and rule? Sweetheart, I thought we already established who is in charge here. I can kill you with a flick of my fingers so maybe tone it down, hm? Or should I make you obey?” 

By the end of the sentence her sweet tone slowly shifted through anger to another clear mock, but this one came with a warning. Alice still glared at her, after a moment turning her head away, looking at the wall, instead of at Nova, knowing damn well that pissing her off is a terrible idea. As much as Alice adored her powers, they were useless against Nova, sure, a sharp headache is an inconvenience, hallucinations as well, but it would go against another, stronger, telepath, probably pushed away in seconds. 

“I thought so.”  Cassandra said, taking another sip of her tea. 

She was watching Alice from the very morning, at first trying to hide her observations, but now she was just sitting there, staring at the red haired girl, trying to grasp what was going on with her. Just yesterday everything was fine, she was acting almost obnoxiously happy by the evening, and now she was ready to tear apart anyone who gets too close. Like a trapped animal. This wasn’t normal and almost felt like Alice was in some sort of pain, that was too hard to explain. 

As the time passed, Cassandra was really second guessing the agreement. Catching herself thinking that she should’ve killed the girl when she had the chance. Sure, she could’ve been useful if only she’d use her powers at all. Now she was only sitting there, being consumed by them. And if Alice was able to enter Oblivion’s realm, then it meant that there was much more to discover, than just simple telepathy, but it was locked under all that heavy fear. She really didn’t need yet another scaredy cat. She needed someone capable of finding an exit for her, a way to accomplish her plan, not another burden. 

“You plan to speak or you’ll just bark at me all day? I remind you that you’re in my home, so behave, or I’ll put you on leash by the gate so you’ll scare off any unwanted guests” 

“Asshole.” Alice muttered in reply, her eyes still burning holes in the wall. 

The silence for some reason felt suffocating. Usually it wasn’t much, just hanging in the air, but not really that much bothering, but right now, it was just terrible. The worst in the entire world honestly. Suffocating, angry, like a bonfire smoke. And there seemed to be no way to stop it for now, as it only grew stronger and more pronounced over time. 

“I need your help.”  Alice suddenly spoke, her eyes falling on Cassandra again. “I need you to amplify my powers. Whatever they are. You need to get in my head and unlock them, tear them from there and make me feel them. I’ll go mad if it won’t happen anytime soon. They’re biting their way out of my body, piece by piece, tearing my flesh, I can feel the fangs bury deep into my muscles and draw blood…” 

Now, that certainly was an image that Cassandra didn’t want to see in her mind at all. It was disgusting and very graphic, but at least that explained the anger with which Alice burned so bright today. Nova just sighed, getting up from her place. 

“And how am I supposed to know you're not just bluffing? And that it’s going to work? Hm?” 

She had her doubts. Sure, she saw Alice go loose with her power after she got drunk, but that case seemed different. Like she really needed to go through all the stages with her powers, to be sated, like some kind of weird beast. 

“Fucking help me. All you do is talk and wallow, you know how annoying it is to read your mind? Like I’m going through some angsty story written by a teen after her first break up.”  Alice growled again. 

She didn’t want to be like that, she really didn’t mean any of those words. It was like something poisoned her, something seeped to her body and made her progressively more angry and hungry for the filling of power. Of her own powers and capabilities. The words were falling from her tongue faster than she could even grasp them in her own mind. 

Cassandra felt the rage raise up in her chest as well, her whole body feeling like it got covered in lava. She quickly walked over to the other girl, grasping her by the back of her neck and slamming her on the table, not caring for the possible damage. Only hearing a grunt of pain in response, feeling the muscles under her fingers slowly relax. 

“Speak like that to me just a word more and I’ll make you beg for death. I was treating you nicely up until now, but believe me, I can snap your neck just fine right now, in a way that will leave you in pain and unable to move while I’ll make you into my personal punch bag.” 

Cassandra wasn’t joking. She was burning with rage, holding back only because Alice could be useful, yet she was tempted to rely just on her own powers right now, instead of relying on her. It seemed like a waste of time, more and more honestly. The muscles under her fingers relaxed entirely, Alice glancing at her from under her faded red bangs. 

“Then help me… Please.” 

This was much softer, almost throwing Nova off. Like this time it was really Alice speaking and not whatever it was before. She took a deep breath, slowly letting go off the other girl's neck. 

“Fine. Get up. We won’t be doing that here. I’m not going to scrub you off of my walls if you explode, it’s enough that red looks ridiculous on you, I don’t need more of it.” 

She spoke with a scoff, fixing her coat, and putting her hands in pockets, still ready to use them at any given time. Just in case someone will decide to try and assassinate her. 

Alice slowly got up from the chair, massaging her chin. That will definitely leave a mark, but all her teeth were fine, so it was all good. Almost. Could’ve been worse, so at least she should be happy that it’ll end with just a bruise. She followed Cassandra outside, feeling that weird type of excitement overflow her body once more. Like something she was waiting for way too long will finally happen. But she remained silent, just going after Nova, trying to contain all those weird thoughts and feelings she had in her mind right now. 

They stopped in the middle of something that looked like a lake, but the water barely reached her ankles there. It was cold, and very unpleasant. But she stayed silent, standing close to Cassandra. 

“So what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Get in my head, force it all out. I can’t do that myself because I’m scared and need someone to force it. Amplify the powers, and lower my defence.” 

“Mhm.”

Nova definitely sounded displeased by that idea, but if that will shut up this brat and make her act normal, then sure. She was ready to use her powers for a little bit. It can’t be that hard, right? She stepped closer to Alice, her fingertips starting at the base of her skull, moving towards the temples, with a cold feeling spreading through her body because of that. Alice shuddered again, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling as the world around started to fall apart. Following Alice’s behavior, Nova also closed her eyes, focused on trying to find the place her powers were hiding at and dragged them out. 

Alice’s breath quickened over time, it felt overwhelming, burning, so many voices in her head all out of a sudden. For a moment she really considered forcing Cassandra to actually stop, but that weird hunger was going away, so why would she do that? She just tried to push through it, not feeling much physical changes, at least for now. 

On the other hand, Cassandra could’ve sworn whatever that was, was eating up all her energy, forcing her to stay connected. Both her and Alice could see the same carousel of lights. But Cassandra could also see many eyes staring back at her with anger, peering right into her soul. Mixed whispers filling the air and her mind, overwhelming her as well, burning into her, biting at her. She felt herself go weak, she could feel the nosebleed that started, the blood dripping over her lips, but she couldn’t pull herself away. She was trapped and for the first time in years, actually terrified. For a moment, just before the darkness swallowed her, she could see  something both incredible and terrifying. A creature with gigantic wings and a halo on its neck, staring back at her with sharp teeth in a crescent smile. After that, everything went dark. 

Alice could sense Cassandra’s influence grow weaker. She managed to open her eyes in time and catch Nova, before she had ended up on the ground, the sudden movement forcing Alice onto her knees, with Cassandra in her arms. 

“Cassandra? Come on. It’s not funny. For fucks sake. Nova!” 

Alice shook her a bit, seeing no response she began to panic. Oh no, what has she done? She quickly checked for breath and heartbeat, feeling a bit more at ease when she could feel them. Faint, but they were there, slowly going back to normal, but Cassandra was still very much out of it and unresponsive. Solace didn’t know what to do, looking around for any lively soul but there was no one and nothing, she just pulled Cassandra closer, very grateful for the cold water now covering most of her legs, keeping her grounded to here. If she’d panic, that would be even worse. 

“Come on… You’re not the weak one here.” 

She muttered again, trying to wake Cassandra up. Oh gosh this was both embarrassing and scary. She knocked out the ruler of the Void by a freaking accident. The hunger was gone entirely, but she couldn’t care less about it for now. She slowly got up, using some of her telekinesis to make moving Cassandra a bit easier, carrying her in her arms and walking back towards the main base. It took her a while to get there but eventually she was inside, laying Nova on the bed, she took off her coat that was all wet anyway. No use of cold water trapped in fabric right now. 

She made a cold compress anyway, sitting down on the bed, once again making sure that the other woman was breathing and fine, placing it on her forehead, before getting off from the bed again, to take off Cassandra's heavy boots. They were wet as well, and heavy to even lift, so no need to push a tired body over its limits as well. She set them aside, pulling Nova more onto the bed, making a safe nest of pillows and blankets to prop her on her side, leaving a room for breathing as well. She sat down nearby, cracking her fingers, hoping that Nova would wake up soon, biting her lips in fear and stress. She didn’t mean to. Obviously. She hoped it’ll work just fine. Besides, Cassandra can regenerate just fine, very quickly, right? So it all should be fine. 

When Cassandra wasn’t waking up for a while, but her breathing started to sound like she was just asleep, Alice moved a bit closer, after a moment of hesitation taking a peek into her mind. She sure was dreaming, for now it was just a regular dream. Not good, not bad, just plain and simple, but Alice could sense  some nightmares trying to get through, to attack her mind. So she did all she could to stop them, to drive them away, to get some more of that peaceful dreaming for the other woman. After that, she just sat there, after a while, starting to absentmindedly stroke Cassandra’s shoulder and back of her neck in a soothing motion. She was just sitting there and staring at the wall, her back against the headboard of the makeshift bed, her eyes slowly drifting close. She was exhausted, letting herself fall asleep. 

Cassandra woke up later, feeling weird and a bit dizzy. Even more weirded out, when she noticed Alice’s hand on herself, the “nest” and sleeping girl right by her side. 

[altruistic-meme]

and today on Abram apparently will die if he has his hair fully its natural color:

[hello-eeveev]

you wanna know what’s so funny is that we’re all like “omg Essek could NOT shut up about Caleb 🥺💕” but like. he absolutely can.

the only times Essek brought up Caleb unprompted/without relevance to the discussion at hand were gesundheit and nighttime sendings lol. of the four uses of the phrase “my partner,” one is an off-handed mention as part of a clarification (“I have not been following the Assembly’s threads; that was more my partner’s purview.”) and the last three all happen in the span of four minutes before Essek exits the episode.

the problem is that within those last four minutes, Essek hit us with

1) showing off a zemnian phrase he learned from Caleb,

2) “he is kind. and he is smart. and he is so strong,” said with such conviction and pride and love that I don’t think I’ll ever recover, and

3) leaving the crafting party to chat with Caleb before bed

which was just. a lot. it was so much and it was so good. so much concentrated shadowgast in those four minutes

this whole ship is built on layered conversations and implications and skirting the obvious (with the exception of the last two minutes of m9 reunited) so to give us four whole minutes of Essek boasting about Caleb, praising Caleb, wanting to go talk to Caleb was particularly potent

thank you Matt Mercer for my life 💕

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN ESQUIRE INTERVIEW

[xiphosuras]

Mona Lupa

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[circusclownproductions]

seeing a lot of videos that are like “I didn’t know babies couldn’t have water” so here’s an incomplete list of things you need to know before having a baby

- the obvious, they can’t have water bc milk is incredibly high in water already so excess water leads to over hydration

- babies cannot have honey until 1

- if ur breastfeeding your kid and saving excess milk, make sure you label what you pumped in the morning vs at night bc your body produces different melatonin levels throughout the day and giving your baby daytime milk at night can make them more alert and fuck up their sleep schedule

- idk why ppl keep saying this but swaddling your babies or getting them those baby straight jacket things is not abuse. It chills them out cuz it reminds them of the womb

- babies have a dandruff like buildup on their head called cradle cap, and it’s very easy to deal with and remove with just some baby shampoo, a gentle scrub brush (MADE FOR BABIES!!) and a comb. It does need to be removed tho cuz it can be very painful after a while. This can also continue to happen late into toddlerhood it’s normal

- you have to clean out the creases of your baby’s skin and hands and feet they WILL collect dust😭😭

- you cannot bathe your baby until their umbilical cord naturally falls off. Use a warm damp rag until then

- tummy time is actually very important

- your baby might have a misshapen head at first (not all the time but sometimes) this will either sort itself out or they’ll need a corrective helmet ask your doctor

- I wouldn’t recommend having your baby leave the house very much until they’re at least 6 months old, especially if they’re born near cold and flu season cuz the common cold can kill a newborn

- you’re not an awful horrible person for having postpartum depression and it’s always a million times better to let your baby cry a few minutes longer than normal while you regain your composure than to freak out and give ur kid shaken baby syndrome

- you’re not an awful horrible person for giving your baby formula milk either

- don’t put shoes on your baby it’ll compromise their toe box and balance

- babies put every single thing in their mouths

- the easiest way to burp a baby is to hold them straight up (spine straight) and hold their head a bit higher

- always support their head they barely have necks

- if your baby fights away food, fights tummy time, vomits every single time you burp them, is gaining or losing an unreasonable amount of weight at a time, wheezes after eating, or goes red after eating, chances are they’re probably allergic to the type of milk they’re eating (again ask a doctor but these are just some signs it’s not just colic)

- they will wobble a lot when learning to do things but you gotta fight the urge to help them every single time cuz they gotta learn

- they’re not always spitting out baby food cuz they don’t like it they just don’t know how to eat. Like they don’t know how to push food down they only know how to stick their tongue out so be patient

- babies craniums are broken up into three parts at first that later fuse together, this is to help make birthing easier but it results in a small EXTREMELY sensitive spot in the top of their head that has no protection. This puts their brain at a high risk. Always protect their soft spot

- read to your baby!! Get cute bright colorful sensory books with sight words and read them to your baby it makes such a huge difference in their educational growth and will help them acquire a love for reading early on. And talk to them never shut up just say whatever comes to mind all the time this will strengthen their vocabulary growth also.

- babies poop like a lot. A lot. an unreasonable amount. Bring back up clothes and more diapers than you think

- no pillows or stuffies in the crib and only use a muslin blanket unless it’s especially cold to prevent suffocation

- babies kick reflexively until they’re out of their newborn scrunch (they stay womb shaped for a while) and if your baby is crying and pushing at the swaddle try letting them flail around for a minute

- consoling your baby is not spoiling them ! They need comfort and they will learn to self soothe on their own

- singing lullabies actually works, they can recognize your voice a consistent place of comfort from the womb and the cadence of lullabies is literally engineered to create a calm headspace

- for the love of god do not get boring ass beige toys. Colors are important for their neurological development

- babies are very responsive to praise from a young age so be as supportive of them as you can

- babies get constipated a lot and you have to do like tummy massages to help ease their pain the easiest way is to lay them on their backs and hold one foot in each hand, kick their feet like bicycles, scrunch up, and then stretch their legs out

- holding them on your hip too much will not cause bow legged-ness if your baby is bow legged that was always gonna happen

- they drool so so much and you have to get bibs for them so they don’t get chest eczema

- don’t use scented products on their skin cuz their skin is sooo much thinner than ours

- when your baby first starts sitting on their own never walk away from them without setting up a nest of pillows and blankets around them. Even minor head trauma can mess them up sometimes

- this one is kinda morbid and scary but sometimes babies just die out of nowhere and it’s no one’s fault or anything it’s called sudden infantile death syndrome(SIDS) and it’s about 1.3k deaths on average per year in America so not super common but still very real. 90% of these deaths happen during the first four months however edit: apparently it’s bc of an enzyme deficiency which at the very least you can take steps to try and prevent

- smoking and drinking during pregnancy WILL affect your baby and your breast milk and also might contribute to SIDS cases

- babies sometimes have a big red mark on them somewhere called a stork bite immediately after birth but typically it goes away

- babies can’t see very well for a while after birth and they’re VERY wobbly so they’ll typically bonk their head into your chest and face a lot while trying to support themselves

- female babies might have smth similar to a period the first few days after birth, this is because of the hormone transfer that happens during the birthing process and the days leading up to it

- male babies get random erections for the first few days after birth(hormone transfer again) literally do not be weird about this it’s a baby

- things like weaning your baby onto solid foods, potty training, weaning off pacifiers etc, can actually be directed by the baby and will happen naturally will minimal guidance from the parent(some guidance is still necessary) although I would do individual research into baby led weaning for food to prevent choking

- get those chewy feeding pouches to help with weaning

- the most random things will scare the hell out of your baby don’t take it personal 😭

- baby carriers are life savers (tulas are one of my favorites)

- once babies hit toddlerhood they’re tougher than you think, and a lot of their reaction is based on YOURS. they’re always going to be looking to you for how to react to a situation. Remain calm and if they’re ok they’ll calm down but if they’re genuinely hurt they’ll keep crying

- babies will most likely get ridiculously attached to an inanimate object and you have to keep this thing intact at all costs until they’re old enough to abandon it or they will throw a FIT. I got a lemur plushie from a zoo once and every single one of the kids has bonded their soul with it until about 6 years old and once a month I have to stitch him back up

- don’t compare yourself to other parents. Maybe your kid isnt getting grass fed wild caught north Atlantic cheerios but at least they’re fed. If your kid is alive and healthy and happy you’re doing a good job

- you will need 3 car seats, an infant seat, a grow with me toddler seat, and a booster seat

- getting a good diaper bag is a MUST

- the hair a baby is born with will most likely all fall out or they’ll get a bald spot on the back of their head where they sleep cuz their hair is so fragile and thin but once it grows back it grows back thick

- get like 20 muslin blankets so you always have a backup when the main ones are covered in spit up

- the babies grip IS stronger than yours (keep your hair up and keep pets away best you can)

- your best bet for your teething baby is a pacifier you can put your finger in so you can massage their gums and some chewing toys numbing cream can be dangerous and should be used sparingly

- go ahead and come to terms with the fact you’re gonna have to use a Frida Baby to manually remove snot

- babies can get hair and thread wrapped around their toes and fingers that can cut off their circulation try to make a habit of checking

- don’t hit your kid please it’s nothing but trauma and fucked up coping mechanisms from there pls empathize with your child they’re a person too

- be careful not to pull too hard on their arms and legs(like during play or holding their hand while they walk) and NEVER pick them up by their hands this will very easily cause dislocation

- they might have a little tooth like callous on their lip from their pacifier. This does not hurt them and it will go away but it may hurt during breastfeeding

- breastfeeding will make your boobs different sizes

Yeag that’s all I can think of rn but yk i Will add as I remember stuff ppl are also adding things I forgot in the tags in case you’d like to look thru that as well <3

[gojorgeous]

arranged marriage! gojo heacanons

pairing: gojo x fem!reader synopsis: just some headcanons about arranged marriage gojo! headcanons do follow a linear plot content: MDNI (18+ONLY), nsfw & sfw content, arranged marriage, p->v, oral (fem!receiving), pregnancy, breeding, not proofread because i'm lazy!!! a/n: i had a request to do a sort of expansion/sequel/prequel (?) on my business or pleasure fic, so... this is that. enjoy! and remember AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 2k (that's so much headcanon lmao)

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who reluctantly agrees to an arranged marriage when the clan decides it’s time to secure the lineage and make a new heir.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose jaw nearly drops when he sees you for the first time as you’re walking down the aisle. No way you’re that hot… 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s practically rocking on his feet waiting for the minister to give him permission to kiss you. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who drags said kiss on a little (a lot) longer than he needed to and spends the rest of the night wishing he’d dragged it on even longer.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s actually really pissed that there are so many damned guests at his wedding. All of them want to talk to him when all he really wants to do is talk to you!!! 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who only gets about three words into you the whole night and feels like pouting every time someone pulls him away from your arm. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finally relaxes a bit when the party’s over and he finally gets you alone. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who has a hard time keeping his hands to himself on the drive home. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who can’t help but stare at your lips as you answer his silly little questions about your favorite color and your favorite food.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who has to restrain himself from literally pulling you out of the car and up to his penthouse. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who suddenly finds himself a little nervous when he finally has you to himself. It’s his wedding night and he has to please his wife, right? 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who revels in tearing away your dress until he sees the lacy little white set you have on underneath.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who pins your wrists to the bed just so he can admire the way you look beneath him. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who nearly comes with no warning the first time he hears you moan his name. He decides it’s his sole purpose in life to make you moan like that as much as possible. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is somehow both gentle and rough, who peppers you with kisses but rocks into you so good he has you seeing stars. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks he ascends when you come around his cock and then ascends again when he remembers he married you and gets to see it for the rest of his life. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes sure to cum inside you and give you every last drop. After all, you have to make a new little Gojo heir, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who holds you tightly to his chest until you drift off to sleep with your head atop his heart. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who takes the next two hours to be able to fall asleep himself, too hyped up on all the endorphins he’s feeling.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose brow furrows and stomach drops when he wakes the next morning to you not in his arms. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who scours the house for you and finds you in the living room reading, already having been up for hours. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart fractures a little bit when you greet him soooooo formally and tell him that there’s some breakfast in the fridge. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends far too long in the shower, letting the water run over him and trying to figure out where he went wrong. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who comes to the conclusion that he just needs to win you over a little more slowly, who smiles and thinks he knows exactly how to do it. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds you still reading on the couch and tells you to get ready to go out– you’re going shopping. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who takes you to every designer shop he can think of and buys everything your eyes so much as graze over. Even if you tell him you don’t want it– he doesn’t care. You’re getting it. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart flutters in his chest when you smile at a pretty little necklace he buys you. It’s not the most expensive thing he’s bought you by far, but it makes you the happiest nonetheless. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s confused as to why you keep thanking him so profusely on the way home. His money is your money now… do you not know that? 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes a stop at the bank on the way home and gets you a flashy black credit card with your name (and new last name hehe) printed at the bottom. He loves the way your eyes widen and your lips part when he tells you there’s no limit. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who asks you what you want to do that night. Fly to Paris for dinner? Pack for a vacation to Bali? Maybe just a fancy meal at Tokyo’s most exclusive restaurant? He’s shocked when you say you’d prefer takeout and a movie on the couch, but all too happy to oblige.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who orders half the menu at your favorite ramen restaurant that he’s never heard of. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes go wide when he takes the first bite and tells you it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who stares at your lips when you laugh and ask him, “really? The best?” 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s suddenly tugging your skirt down your thighs and burying his face between your legs. He takes one long lick and moans, saying that the ramen is now only second-best. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks he could fuck you for hours on his couch, but stops after just a few rounds. He doesn’t want to tire his little baby out. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who savors the way you let him hold you after sex. Why couldn’t he hold you like this all day? So what if you’d just met– you’re his wife??? 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who buries his face in your neck to memorize the moment, dreading the second you pull away from him. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who almost protests when you wrap a blanket around your body and pad off, saying you’re going to take a shower.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who debates cornering you in the bathroom for another round, if only so he can hold you again, but thinks better of it and cleans up your forgotten ramen instead.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is completely exasperated when you never return to finish the movie. He finds you sitting in your shared bed, reading again. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart drops when you only look up long enough to give him a small smile instead of tumbling straight into his arms. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds himself once again in the shower contemplating his existence. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who decides he’ll win you over one way or another, even if it takes longer than he originally intended… 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who climbs into bed next to you and slings an arm around your waist casually, like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest when he buries his face in his pillow. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who doesn’t truly fall asleep until you turn off your bedside lamp and lie down beside him. His heart does little skips when you don’t wiggle out from under his arm. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who wakes first in the morning this time to find you curled so tightly into his chest he’s sure his pounding heart is going to wake you. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes turn into little hearts when you wake blushing after you realize how closely you’ve curled into him. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who tells you it’s okay and pulls you back into him and smirks when you can't see his face.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends the next few weeks buying you every knick and knack, every snack and meal, and bending you every surface in the house. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes light up whenever he sees you wearing that little necklace he bought you on that very first shopping trip. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who buys you another necklace… this one with his initials dangling from the chain. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes you ride him so he can see his letters swaying from your neck as you come on his cock. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends every waking moment with you on his mind, who gets in a sticky situation while fighting more than once because he’s waiting for you to text him back or remembering all the nasty things he did to you last night. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finally takes a look at the pages of those books you like so much and realizes the pure filth his dirty little wife reads right beside him every night. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s not angry or put off, but rather excited. He uses it as a manual the next he has you under him and when he repeats a line verbatim from your book he laughs so loud at your shocked little blush that he’s sure you’re both getting a noise complaint in the morning. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes every effort to find out what you like (beyond reading smut) and buys you front row tickets to a concert for a band that you both happen to love. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds out your favorite movie series and takes three (unapproved) days off of work just to have a marathon with you. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is having his morning coffee (full of cream and sugar and caramel sauce, of course) when you make your way into the kitchen with your lip pulled between your teeth. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes blow wide when he sees a stick with two little pink lines and realizes he’s managed to knock you up on the first try.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who simply has to have you right then and there, bending you over the counter and groaning your name when he slides inside your cunt. He’s gentler this time, though. Can’t be too rough when his wife is pregnant, right? 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who goes overboard with his excitement and buys a new car the same day he finds out you’re pregnant. It’s practically a tank with all its safety features. He says you’re only allowed in that specific vehicle for the foreseeable future. Get used to it. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s all over you now. Whatever restraint he had before is gone now that you’re carrying his baby. He touches you… everywhere. All the time. It’s like it pains him to not have at least a smidgen of his skin on yours. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who keeps trying to win you over in the following weeks. He needs you. Not just your body, but your mind and your soul, too!

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who just lets it slip that he loves you when he’s balls deep in your cunt. Doesn’t even get embarrassed or flustered about it, just keeps pounding into you and whining about how much he loves you over and over again while he’s filling you up. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who lets the floodgates open after that. He tells you he loves you at every opportunity. It gets to the point where those three little words don’t even fluster you anymore, but you haven’t said them back. Not yet. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who waits patiently. He knows he’s getting to you, little by little. He’s sure he’ll hear you say it back soon. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s blindsided despite having convinced himself he’d be able to play it cool. He’s got you on the couch, wrapped up in his arms with his head on your tummy (he gets to hold you as much as he wants now hehe). You’re braiding his hair when you tell him that you love him. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who flushes the deepest shade of pink you’ve ever seen and pulls down his blindfold like he needs to see you say it again.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who begs to hear it again and again and again until he’s smiling so wide it's literally blinding. 

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks his arranged marriage was definitely the best thing to ever happen to him <3

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[hoshigray]

But like…sugar daddy!Nanami bending you over his pool table and just fucking your brains out🙈‼️

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: missed writing for nanami, let's gooo!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: sugar daddy! Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sex on a pool table - finger sucking - lingerie - breast fondling + nipple play - standing (bent over) position - praise - Daddy kink - pet names (baby, good girl, honey, love, sweetheart, sweetpea) - protected sex (bc he's a gentleman, lol) - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

“—Mmmph! Ohhh…Kent—Oooh!”

“Yes, baby…God, you look so good.”

“Your fingers; you’re going too…Mmmm…”

Being a sugar baby is a blessing in its own way. Not having to worry so much about your financial situations as they’re taken care of in your day-to-day life can be a bit overwhelming to comprehend in the days you forget entirely; however, you can’t lie that it’s not a nice lifestyle to live in. All your money troubles no longer being a constant weight on your shoulders, moved aside for you to enjoy your life as freely as you wish compared to before.

And what’s better is that the man taking care of said troubles was indeed a miracle worker — and quite the looker. Nanami Kento, your sugar daddy, took you in when you put your online advertisement looking for a sugar daddy, and you can only thank the stars above for such a wonderful man to come falling from the heavens above to put your mind at ease.

And trust and believe that he’s done so in ways more than one.

He had you bent by his pool table in the living space of his penthouse, your legs spread for him to have your skirt lifted to your waist. It’s easier for his hand to go to your lacy panties and slide his fingers in to meet your folds. And after a few minutes, he’s already made you a complete mess just by the thickness of his digits. 

You squirm, gripping the billard stick that rests on the velvety skin of the pool table. “Hahhhn, ohooo, stoop, don’t rub there—Hic…!” Your hands grip the shoulder of his work shirt.

“Oh? Don’t like it when I do…this?” The blunt of Nanami’s fingertips scrapes the upper wall of your vaginal walls with a curled motion, and you lament with the jerk of your thighs. “But all I’m doing is rewarding my baby.”

His reward was specifically targeted to what you were wearing. Your opened buttoned-up shirt exposed your recent purchase of a new lingerie set; the complex design of the intimate clothing and the bold hue of the color–your favorite color–complimented your skin enchantingly. The blonde man behind you couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off you the moment you meekly showed off the bra of the set. 

“And judging by how tight you’re squeezing my fingers,” he says to your ear while another graze of your inner walls has you arch towards him. “You seem to love this, right, honey?” His free hand was groping one of your breasts; the material of the laced bra felt pleasant to the touch along the squish of your mound.

“Hoooh, ohhGod, Kento, please,” you were a whimpering mess literally in the palm of his hand; he’d made you come once already, so your insides had yet to subside from the acute height that kept you trembling to his touch. “I caan’t, no moooore…If you keep up, I-I’ll—“

“What?” He kisses your cheek, nearly having you give to your knees. “Don’t wanna cum on my fingers?” You shook your head hurriedly, enticing your neck for him to lay more gentle kisses. “What do you wanna cum on then, sweetpea?”

You use your hips to answer, grinding your wet southern lips on the zipper of his expensive, linen dress trousers. Yet, while he returns the motion with synced ruts to your chasm with the tent of his groin, it’s safe to say he doesn’t mind the mess. 

“This,” you moan with more rubs on his pants. “I wanna cum on you, Kent. Please, lemme cum on you…”

The sound of his chuckle has you twitching on his digits, wailing when he stretches your opening with a scissoring motion. “Good girl, asking so nicely…” With a hum, he withdraws his fingers from your warmth and brings your pricy underwear down to your thighs, brushing its garters. After bringing his trousers down and freeing his erection from his briefs, he grabs for the condom from his pocket to release from its wrapper. Once the rubber is on and fitted, Nanami guides his cock to the hole of your vagina. 

The insertion of the cockhead has you gasping sharply, the cue stick in your grasp being the only thing you can use as security as your sugar daddy pushes every inch of his shaft inside you. You could never get used to the girth, the stretch of his limb so euphorically good, and the graze of the tip on the sensitive itches that make you hiccup. And the hilt of his pelvis meets your folds, sighing now that his entire cock is finally one with you.

He rocks back and forth leisurely, careful not to have you released on him just yet. Both his hands now meet your chest, fondling the flesh of your breasts in such a loving fashion that you whimper with the pull of his dick. God, the way his tip perfectly rubs on your inner texture has your brows furrowed and eyes sewn shut, wanting to truly indulge in the sensation that piques the delicate keenness of your nerves.

“Ahaaa, ohoofuck,” you jolt when he suddenly throws a rough thrust to your ass; the stick in your hand hits two Aramith billiard balls to the long rails of the table. “Yesss, right there, Kentoo…! Feel so good…”

“Yeah, honey?” The weight of him on your back as he bends his frame above yours, speaking softly to your ear as if wanting you to shiver on his chest. “Feeling good?” You nod hurriedly with the tweak of your nipples under the rough pads of his fingers. “All cute and good for me…Want me to make you feel even more good?”

“Yes…Daddy,” Oh my, you used the title—a step you were cautious to use at the moment yet albeit eager for the results. And the sand-haired man snaps his hips abruptly, causing a shriek to sneak past you without noticing.

He’s done with the slow pacing—the rhythm now increased to a rapid cadence that evokes more sounds to escape with every rock of your figure. Gosh, you hope you weren’t leaving scratch marks on this man’s pool table. It would make you feel terrible damaging his property. However, that sounds like a worry to check back later when you’re not squealing your mind out.

“—Oooh!! F–fffshiiiit, Daddy!” Your eyes roll up at the scrape of your G-spot. “N–Not shoo fa—Ahhhh! T’oo muuch…!”

“But you’re too close to slow down, love,” Nanami kisses your cheek before slithering his hand to stuff his fore and middle fingers into your mouth. You sounded too cute mewing for him while sucking on his fingers. And it doesn’t help that the erratic ruts to your cunt have you shrilling even more, drool trickling down to your chin just to fall on the table surface. “Come on, sweetpea, let it all out…Hnnmm, let me feel it.”

The piston of his pelvis smacking the skin of your ass with the thick digits stuffed in your mouth is too much to follow through, the climb of your climax becoming more complicated to avoid as the milliseconds rush away. You submit to your growing dizziness as your peak shakes you down.

The orgasm has you screaming out loud, your legs trembling with the flutter of your walls around Nanami’s dick while he slowly plunges himself in and outward, relishing the snugness of your slit. You suck on his fingers hard, nearly choking on spit when your body is experiencing the pulses at its own pace. Your elbows wobble, giving way for you to slump down and accidentally hit an object ball with the cue stick, knocking onto another and pushing it an inch away from a pocket.

Nanami chortles, straightening himself to massage your waist through your aftershocks. “Nice backspin, sweetheart.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.