#and where it ultimately led him and his lover

[yinyuedijun]

anyway I joke a lot about mydei getting cucked in okhema and also being paranoid abt losing you but like the undercurrent to all of this is actually quite sad.

(cw slavery, war, discrimination etc)

mydei has only ever known you within a framework of violence. he led the kremnoan army to war with your city-state, he abducted you from your temple and took you to kremnos, he put you in chains as his people's laws demanded. yes, he was an unwilling participant, and yes, he tried his best to protect you, and yes, he wishes to usher in an era of peace for kremnos where such crimes will never happen again - but the fact of the matter is that mydeimos is the heir to a millennium of violence, and you are the ultimate reminder of that violence.

then you get to okhema, and mydei sees you for the first time in a framework of peace. living outside a reality that is hostile to you, in an environment where you laugh and smile and walk freely without chains. and mydei adores seeing you like this, thinks that there is no sight more beautiful. but the novelty of all this is also painful to him: the only reason you ever cry in okhema is out of joy, whereas in kremnos you only ever cried out of grief.

the people in okhema know, too. your former townspeople, the okheman natives, the refugees from the rest of amphoreus that warred with nikador over the years - all of them know this about you. yes, they are wrong about much of kremnos, vilify him and his people unfairly - but there is still an ugly truth to what they assume about your relationship.

you try your best to deny it. you always defend mydei steadfastly, make it clear that you are by his side willingly, always say that he has been nothing but good to you - but they disbelieve you. they pity you, grieve for you, want more for their innocent priestess that was taken by a kremnoan prince as his war prize. they have no doubt that he defiled you, that you were coerced into laying with him. you insist that this is wrong, that you are his lover - but they will always see you as a bed-slave so long as you are with him.

and they aren't wrong for that, are they? mydei has only ever known you in a framework of violence. the two of you fell in love, yes, but you did it while you were still in chains. no matter how gentle he is with you, his loving you has always been an inherently violent act.

so when mydei sees you in okhema, no longer existing under violence, he sees a life that he stole away from you. a life where you are free, where you can fall in love with a normal man rather than her captor, where you can get married as a legal wife rather than a concubine, where you can have children who are freedmen rather than nothoi who are in chains. mydei is trying so, so hard to create an era where this is no longer the case - but a great part of him fears that your relationship will always stay in this old era of strife.

when your aunties giggle and tell you to retire from your post and get married, to find someone from your town or maybe even a nice okheman boy, he knows what they mean to imply. you're free now, they're saying. you don't need to be the slave of the kremnoan prince anymore. you don't need to spread your legs for the monster who abducted you. you don't need to be his whore.

you can be happy now.

and they aren't wrong for that, are they? you are free now. you can finally escape the chains that castrum kremnos forced upon you - the chains that mydei put you in.

[mercymaker]

do you think that considering astarion is a walking corpse, a vampire spawn destined to live in the shadows (even if he finds a way around the sunlight sensitivity), someone with insatiable hunger for blood and two centuries of brutal trauma, someone whose place in the society according to most norms is to be skewered by a monster hunter... is there a part of him, somewhere deep down that craves normalcy? i don't think that's his stance on this on most days, as he strikes me as someone who doesn't particularly mind being a vampire and tends to deal with whatever uncomfortable and painful thoughts he has by deflecting and repressing that shit, telling himself he's above it. voicing out loud how utterly dull his life would be if he was still just a high elf, a magistrate in the city, with some pretty husband or wife, a marriage likely arranged to advance his status. scoffing at the idea of a house full of children, little elflings with silver hair. and, ah, he would be mortal. but..

i can't help but wonder if he'd have moments where he'd find himself thinking about it. thinking about the life he lost. about astarion without the scars on his back. the one who enjoys bouillabaisse and a variety of expensive wines instead of blood in whatever form he can get. the man that has a home, a place to return to, a comfy bed, and above all.. astarion who has a family. who would be distraught if something happened to him. who would go out of their way to find him... where was his family when cazador took him? was he truly so utterly alone even before??

and that would sever the thread of his thought, pain and anger replacing it like a hot wave. he was stupid to even think about it. of course, he's better off now, as a vampire spawn, an immortal. he doesn't have whatever responsibilities that would weigh the pretty, breathing magistrate astarion down. he's better off drenched in blood, out on numerous adventures than whatever boring affair a simple life in the city would give him... of course!!

[mtcloudsworld]

Can I please request a Dick Grayson x black reader smut, we know that man is nasty and when he’s in love he’s down right filthy so he’ll be into spanking, hair pulling chocking, and he’s definitely eating pussy like his life depends on it. Do what you want just make him as nasty as ever 🤎🤎🤎

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, dick grayson x black!reader, black!fem, hair pulling, oral (v receiving), pet names: dollface, baby, darling, mama, love, friends to lovers trope, dirty talk, backshots, pound town, gushy gushy

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | ANON, I'm not even gon' lie... I struggled with this one soooo bad 😭 I was over here tryna give you like a whole ass story and what now, but then my ass was way too stubborn, and way too horny to do all that soooo I just typed away at it as much as I could. Hopefully you like it. If not, sue my writer's block lol.

please comment, like and reblog!! Enjoy lovebugs!!! 🦠🩷

𝐀𝐇𝐇, 𝐘𝐄𝐒, we know Dick is a nasty man, he likes it sloppy, filthy to the point you're a quivering whimpering mess, right?

It was kinda hard...at first... to believe how nasty this man could be.

How could someone so energetic with such a cocky personality trapped in a god like body with that millionaire dollar smile make a girl cum in seconds?

Your relationship was mutual. You both had the same friends but never budged to hang out with each other.

It didn't mean he never had his eyes on you, though.

The way you walked, how you talked, dressed and styled yourself never failed to amaze him. Your hair was either in braids or in its natural habit-- curls. You always had your nails done and your scent was always a mixture between cookie dough, vanilla, and coco butter.

Your personality was cute and charming, oftentimes you were a bit shy and quiet, but once you got comfortable around somebody you were okay.

Usually, Dick hopped from girl to girl, could never stay committed at times and getting to know you genuinely as friend wasn't supposed to go any further than that...but it did.

You were constantly on his mind, effortlessly grabbing at his attention, you had a way of caring for people-- it was almost like a motherly instinct to nurture someone.

There were moments when you two were face to face, talking, having a normal conversation about something and you'd just...lightly brush a strand from his face or fix the collar of his shirt.

Oh, his tie is crooked? Let me fix that.

Got a crumb on his face? Let me wipe that off for you.

Eventually, coming over to each other's apartments turned into sleeping over, getting weirdly comfortable with cuddling, having deep, intimate conversations that most friends or associates wouldn't have with each other.

But that was the issue, you both were comfortable, and usually comfortability led to numerous things.

Things that became private and secluded from the rest, things that took time for him to accept and realize. Things that allowed you to invite him and read you like a book. He took time out of his own world to get to know you from the inside out. He took time to settle for the innocent things that were ultimately sweet to the point his teeth were rotting.

It took time to understand this wasn't a friendship, it was more than just a simple hug, a glance in those beautiful eyes, a brush of the hands, having mental check ins, texting and calling each other nonstop-- it was more than just platonic.

Because best believe when he's found himself stuck in a place where you're truly his only option, his only solitude, his only source of light and recharge-- he'll come running to you. He's done it plenty of times, more than you can count.

Even when he thought it was the stupidest idea to land on your balcony at the weakest time of his patrol, you took care of him without even knowing.

You took care of him like you would at campus, eating with friends, hanging out-- you were always in his corner. So when he reveals to you who he truly was, Nightwing, it felt like a tone of bricks slipped off his shoulders.

Your promise of keeping his identity a secret felt more sacred than anything.

He had gotten comfortable with just sneaking his way into your apartment, unless he didn't warn you ahead of time, everything was on lock down. Born and raised in Gotham taught you so many things and keeping your home secure at all times was one of them.

When he does come over after a nightly patrol, it's never a dull moment where your stitching him up, cleaning the blood from off his skin, icing his cheek with a bag of frozen fruit...there was never a dull moment when he's sitting there like a little kid observing you glancing over him and checking every aspect of him, making sure that he was okay and in piece...never a dull moment when he wants to lean in and kiss you...but something always got in the way.

Nonetheless, he makes it his goal to at least try,

On a Friday night, after patrol, he realized how far he was from home.

As much as he wanted to take a break from visiting you, tonight had him beat.

He wasn't feeling up to swinging from rooftop to rooftop when your apartment was literally right here.

Coming to your place unannounced was never his intention, nonetheless, you invited him in anyway. Cleaning up his wounds and washing the blood, dirt and grime from off his suit, he heads to the bathroom for a shower.

Once he was done, he stepped out in only a pair of sweats. His hair a mixture of dry and wet strands curling around his eyes and shoulders gave him that boyish charm that made most girls go feral. Along with the sight of his toned torso, bitable muscles and imprint of his bulge...yeah, you were in deep.

And trying to stay cool, calm and collected while standing beside you, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his foot crossed over the other, arms crossed while eating a banana wasn't getting you nowhere.

You were finding it hard to make eye contact with him, too scared to stumble over your words when he gazed over you with those piercing sapphire eyes and beautiful smile. He was speaking to you so casually, but your thighs were practically clenching against one another.

Your body was hot, heart beating quicker than usual while your mind was going to places that it shouldn't. Yet here you were feeling some type of way, and when you were done with those damn dishes, you both settled on the couch. Putting on a horror movie to pass on the time.

Neither of you were really tired, it was only 1:30 on a Saturday morning, so settling with that seemed plausible.

15 minutes in man spreading with his eyes trained on the screen. He mindlessly accepted the comfort of your crossed legs over his lap. Leaning into his arm, with your own wrapped around the muscle you feel his warmth transfer through you as your body laxes, even with his knuckles brushing lightly against the side of your thigh, it felt nice...or when he massaged it, groping it softly and caressing at the flesh subconsciously...it felt nice, too nice.

Because at some point you told him to stop, and when he looked to you confusingly. Brows furrowed with a puzzled gaze, you bring it to his attention, embarrassingly, that it made you feel some things.

And it dawns on him, suddenly...

The smirk and mischievous glare in eyes make you feel shy, wanting nothing more than to curl in a ball.

It dawns on him that he has an effect on you.

Just like you had an effect on him with taking care of him, physical touch from him felt like heaven. The littlest things he does to you sends you on a whirlwind.

And he couldn't lie, it boosted his ego.

He would sit there contemplating his next actions for the next 5 minutes.

Eyes looking anywhere but the tv. There was this cute awkward silence between you. Clearly fidgety, unsure if y'all should or shouldn't...

Peeking over you, he murmurs, "do you want me to make it feel better?"

Staring ahead, your mind doesn't register his words until a second late.

The question no doubt taking you off guard, but you look at him shyly, shrugging your shoulders with uncertainty. "I-I think so?"

Trying to hide yourself from him, you wanted to express that it wasn't a big deal and that it'll go away on its own... but the way he was looking at you right now, with his hand still rested on your thigh...the temptation was real.

Dick chuckles at your cuteness, "No need to hesitate, doll face. If you're not up to it, I won't force you into anything." He says mindlessly brushing your curls behind your ear to get a good look of your face, brushing his thumb along your jawline. You gulp noticing the proximity of your faces, the scent of his body wash overwhelming you as you eye him adoringly. "I want to."

He cocks a brow at you, "you sure?" you realized his question was out of reassurance, wanting to make sure if this was something you wanted to do.

But you nodded, glancing between his eyes and those pretty plump lips of his.

"Yes, I'm sure."

It seemed impractical for him to think that way with you, but he did.

He thought about it nonstop.

To the point he was having to excuse himself to the bathroom, fisting himself at the thought of you. All because he had an innocent little cuddle session with you. He just couldn't bear the feeling of your ass brushing up against his dick, which was pathetic I know but true.

Or when he accidentally got a glimpse of your chocolate round tits, bouncing up and down as you squeezed and jumped yourself into those tight ass jeans you hadn't worn in a while because you gained a little bit weight around your ass and thighs.

He loved every second of it, though. He loved every chunky curve and perfect imperfect flaw that made you you. He thought about it every single day and night, out on patrol when he feels touch starved, or busy with other things that weren't you.

Dick has thought about consistanly.

He's thought about this exact moment for a while now.

He's got you in his grasp, trapped in your own room giving you exactly what you've been waiting for, and you realize between shared kisses and him glorifying your body that you love every second of it.

You love how messy he is, how he doesn't give a fuck if you're loud and everybody and they mama can hear you. He was making you feel good, making you feel like bouncing on his dick for hours.

Salvia drips from his mouth to your aching center. Watching how it rolls down the crevice of your lower lips past the entrance of your hole.

It coats every inch of you beautifully before proceeding to dip his fingers past your folds. Light wet sounds heard as he circles around to your clit, rubbing up and down tenderly.

"How's that feel, baby? Feels okay?"

"Y-yes, keep...going," You exhale shakily, nails curling into the sheets, balling them into your fists you feel his fingers slip in and out of your leaking hole.

His head rested at your thigh as he peppers kisses to your flesh, attentively watching your eyes flutter shut to the euphoric feeling building from within, your moans become softer and sultrier as your cunt welcomes him deeper.

Your skin felt so satisfying in his palms, almost like Play-Doh as he continued to grope parts of you. The way it was so smooth and yet so soft beneath his calloused hands, he never felt anything like it. Your scent was so intoxicating, he could almost taste it in his mouth. Actually... he wanted to savor it in his mouth, every inch, every lick, gathering a taste of you.

"Spread those legs for me, baby," he instructs lightly, lips adventuring south of your hips near your lower region. He gently moves your knees over his shoulders to hold you securely within his grasp.

Mouth leaving kisses to your clit, he lays his long pink tongue flat against your center. Licking long stripes up your clit deliberately slow, you gasp at the sudden action. "Oh, Dick~"

One taste after the other, he moans pulling you closer, "Fuck, I'm gonna ruin you."

His tongue flicks against your bud quickly. Concentrating on your raunchy moans and the way your body responds. His warm hands move upward around your parted thighs. Palms laid flat at the underside of them, he presses for your knees to touch your chest.

"Such a good girl." He plunges two fingers into your leaking hole, prepping you a little bit more before replacing his fingers with his mouth again.

The sensation of Dick's lips engulfing, sucking, licking and slurping against your sobbing wet pussy sends a heat wave through your body. The long-wet muscle glides over your hole teasingly a few times before shoving it inside.

Your whimper-moans fill his ears as he maneuvers in and out of you. Squirming beneath his hold. Not wanting to run away from him, he holds you down against the mattress, forcing you to take it like a good girl while arching your back off the mattress. "Aww, Dick right there~" with your head pressed to the pillow.

Completely immersed to the weird sensation of him tongue fucking you. Mentally, it felt too realistic, too natural for how far his tongue could reach. Undoubtedly grazing at the sides of your gummy walls, you were sure he could touch your g spot without even trying.

Nonetheless, it left you speechless, embarrassingly aroused and yet a stuttering mess that expressed something so indescribable.

With your hand pressed to the back of his head, you welcomed him deeper. His mouth working tirelessly eating you out like a full four course meal, you attempt to swivel your hips against his salivating mouth. "D-Dick..." The whimper of his name was high pitched, undoubtedly trying to warn him that something was brewing.

"Mmph," His mouth pulls away from your pussy with a smack. A heavy exhale hits at your exposed core as he continues with pumping you with his fingers. Voluntarily shaking and wiggling his fingers at your g-spot. Your movements halted, eyes clenching and jaw dropped to the action. "Mhmm, yeahhh. There you go, that's it, just let go for me baby, I got you." It sends continuous vibrations to your clit, your walls clenching and contracting around his finger, your throat emits a deep elongated moan, painting an ivory white all over his fingers.

Dick lets you ride out your high before he pulled out to examine your essence coating all over his fingers. You laid there, breathless and mind blown for a moment, resting your legs out onto the mattress lazily.

While you hear the humming of a pleasant man at the end of your bed, you were too busy collecting your thoughts of the events that just occurred.

Noticing you were completely silent he goes to land a kiss at your stomach.

"You okay, baby?"

You nod, "mhm." Before lifting yourself up slowly on your elbows.

When you get a better look at the image before you, you nearly snicker as Dick lick small spots of cum from off your inner thigh. Smiling from ear to ear, you ask with your head cocked to the side cutely, "Do I taste that good?" Looking at him with amusement, he traces kisses up your body. Grossing onto his hands and knees, you notice the rippling effect and swell of his muscles beneath the flesh of his arms and shoulders, veins bulging through, his huge frame looms over you causing your back to touch the mattress. when he comes face to face with you, your dainty hands come from up his biceps to wrap around his shoulders. Noses nudging against one another cutely, a playful smirk is decorated on his lips when he sees a little twinkle in your eye.

"Wanna find out?" His voice was deeper than before, raspy and sexily menacing to the point your aroused cunt began to clench around nothingness. Your lips ghosting over his, hooded eyes watched closely as you proceeded to finally engulf his, he immediately deepens the kiss no longer feeling the need to prolong it.

When he rests his body between your legs your startled by the heavy bulge of his dick rubbing along your clit. Moaning between kisses he takes this opportunity to slither his tongue past your mouth, brows connecting at the slow development of pleasure growing in your body. The combination of the slow yet firm stroke of his hips grinding against your pussy and his tongue adventuring in your mouth has your moans become breathy, soft and cute with a lilac touch that has him grunting in return. "Ooh, baby" your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder blades, your legs locking around his waist, his lips move down the side of your chin to leave bites at your neck. Sounds of your heavy exhales and whimpers growing needy has his dick twitching in his sweats.

"Wanna continue, love?" his hands clench to the sheets on either side of your head, keeping himself from crushing you completely, his hips rock against you.

"Yes...please." you exhaled shakily, bucking your hips to him.

It didn't take much longer for him to have you bent outta shape.

"Ooohhh Fuuuuck!"

In the perfect position, face down, ass up, your sweet raunchy melodic moans bounced off the four white walls as you clawed at the sheets. Body jerking, mouth gaped, and brows furrowed. Your back arched into his embrace as he pounds profoundly deep into your pretty little pussy.

"Mhmm, that's it, take that shit, mama-- fuck, you look so good like this."

Quick with precision, no breaks in between leaving marks on your bronze flesh. He leaves you breathless with your hand rested at his abdomen. He grabs at your wrist pinning it to your lower back to feel your long acrylics dig into his skin.

With sweat drenched strands sticking to his forehead, mouth gaped with heavy grunts, he observes the sight of your fat ass jiggling to the slamming of his hips.

Fucking you at an angle, your whimpers become suppressed by your swollen bitten lips. “Heh, you like this shit... don't you, baby? You like it rough? You like the way my dick feels baby, hm?" You were unable to speak, jaw dropped with hesitant moans slipping out and when he doesn't hear a response, when he doesn't hear you communicate with him, he dares to go slow. "Or should I go slow? Huh? Want me to fuck you slow and hard, dollface? Cause I can do that, I can give it to you just like this--" His thrusts still so harsh and rough against your clit, pegging his dick to grind deeper.

"O-Ooh fuck n-no, keep going! keep going! Don't. stop." You whined like baby hating the change of pace.

"Yeah?" he cocked a brow at you in amusement, smirking evilly.

"Mhmmm, please, Dickie, please go faster..." you beg

He grabs at your hips roughly once more, digging his fingers into your flesh, praising you. "Good fucking girl."

He was practically fucking you to pound town, fucking you till the bed was creaking, till your sounds were silence by the agonizing warmth of excitement circulating through your nervous system.

Your curls were shielding over your clenched eyes, head tilted back from his hand collecting a fist full of your hair, your lips gaped open in euphoric pleasure. You begin to wail as he pounds into you relentlessly.

He watches your pussy lips pucker around his length, squeezing him tightly and sucking him deeper and deeper till he reached your cervix. He was so deep you could practically feel him in your stomach. Driving and grinding his hips into you meanly, his hand was placed at the small of your back molding you into an arch.

And like a cat, slowly you follow through with his silent command, planting your chest onto the mattress, your arms outstretched from you, your head turns sideways observing how he fucks you in rhythmic motion, hands transitioning to coddle at your hips.

"Harder, baby, harder..." You nearly laugh at the sudden vibrations of your skin smacking repeatedly against one another, caught in a trance to the gushy squelching sounds of your sweet, sweet essences dripping from around your thighs. "Y-yeah, that's it, just like that-- mmphm...oh my God!" Your breath is caught at your throat, eyes beginning to water.

His hands grope at your ass cheeks, using the fatty flesh for leverage, turning his fingers white. Thumbs pulled your ass cheeks apart so he could catch a glimpse each time he thrusts into you with ease, the squelching gushy gushy of your arousal feels and sounds so sticky and wet to his ears, so sloppy that its dripping onto the sheets and soaking at the base of his abdomen.

"Shit, m'bout to cum..."

Between your parted legs you feel his hand move towards your center, gasping, "fuuuck!" You grind yourself against his fingers as they move around your folds, gaining your silk and ghost over your clit, slapping against it couple of times before giving it a sweet gentle rub in quick circular motions.

"Mmm'fuuuck yesss!"

You wail, body crumbling lower, feeling suddenly weak within his grasp.

He smirks victoriously when he feels you start to clench around his length, quivering like damn leaf. "Mhm, cum on this dick, mama." You release a deep guttural moan beneath him, when your body collapses to the bed sounds of your cum gushing from out of you is heard as he ruts inside of you, following in pursuit.

"Shit, gotdamn baby!"

He stood back with huff, watching as his tip leaked all over the crack of your ass. His cum seeping from out of your entrance down the side of your shaking thigh. Taking a hold of his dick, the swell of his mushroom tip smears your shared juices all along your center, between your folds, rubbing it up and down against your clit to hear you whimper from the sensitivity.

Stepping away, he kneels down to be leveled with your ass. Peppering kisses all along the red imprinted cheek, he nibbles at your thigh next.

He feels you move, your upper body turned sideways with your knee bent while the other stayed straight. Your hand reaches for the crown of his head as his face buries into the crevice of your cheeks. Inhaling the scent of your cum, it rubs up against his nose as he started to lick at you.

"Mmph, I can never get enough of you." He states pulling your ass cheeks apart some more, his tongue dragging up from your pussy to the space of your ass.

You squeal to the feeling of his long pink tongue slithering past your quivering hole. Dark lust filled eyes watching as your swollen lips parted, keeping eye contact with him as you press his head deeper, bucking your hips back.

You welcome him back into your heat, making out with your cunt, moaning at the taste of you lingering on his buds, his hands begin to smack at your ass a few times, groping at the flesh as he starts to slurp up his salvia, devouring you some more to feel it roll down the side of his mouth and smear against your inner thigh messily.

"Aww, shit!...you just can't get enough, huh?" You whimper laugh starting to ride his face as you feel him poke at your sweet spot, "fuck, you always find the right spot...Oh, m'cumming."

And what felt like the fifth time already, you cum, you cum all along his face feeling his head shake to finish you off completely.

Pulling away to see your pussy juices shine all along his mouth and chin, smeared at his cheeks. You watched as his smirk grew, his tongue slipping out to lick around his mouth seductively before going in for a kiss. His tongue shoved down your throat while your hand moves to stroke at his dick, thumb rubbing around his swollen tip.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

... y'all what the fuck did I just create???

[matt-murdockk]

Human 101: Cooking

pairing: rk800 connor x reader

words: 2.1 k

warnings: language, self-deprecating humour, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov

summary: human 101 with (y/n) and Connor, a crash course on the basics of humanity, brought to you by sumo and a very sleep-deprived writer (comedy, fluff)

additional context: reader has a rampant crush on Connor, as established in Short Circuit, this could be treated as a sequel in spirit or just a standalone.

a/n: thanks for all the love for my previous fic, here's another one <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unlike other deviants, Connor took his time to come to terms with his deviancy. Imagine you live your entire life (even if your whole life was barely a couple weeks) thinking your only purpose was to, say, hunt dogs. What would you do if you woke up one day to find you were the dog all along? This feels like a bad analogy. You get the point.

That kind of revelation would definitely come with its own baggage. I mean, I can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like. So even if Connor has finally made his peace with being a deviant, I have made it my life's mission to help him experience the highs and lows of being fully human. Call it Human 101.

Lesson one? Cooking. Sure "Love makes us human" Yeah okay but if you really think about it, it is cooking. Literally no other species cooks. Everyone fucks. Go figure.

"Cooking is fundamental," I told him, as we stood in my kitchen. "It’s like… the ultimate human bonding experience. Families, friends, lovers-" I stopped myself there, flustered, oops, but he didn’t seem to notice. "It’s about creating something from scratch, with your hands. Plus, we get to eat it after. Win-win."

"I should inform you that I already have access to an extensive database of recipes and culinary techniques. If required, I can prepare any dish with precise measurements and optimal timing. There is a less than one percent chance of error."

"Oh, no no," I laughed. "We can't follow recipes, God, no. Cooking is about spontaneity. About chaos. Screwing up is where the fun is."

His head tilted slightly, LED blinking yellow as though he were processing my statement. "You believe the experience is improved by the possibility of failure?"

"Absolutely!" I said, grabbing a whisk from the counter. "It's not just about the taste, you know? You need to spill flour everywhere, accidentally burn the sauce, or switch salt with sugar. That's the human way. You mess up, you laugh about it, and sometimes you end up making something even better than you planned."

Connor stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to reconcile my argument with his programming. "This is… counterintuitive. But intriguing."

"Exactly!" I said, pointing the whisk at him like I’d just solved world hunger. "Now, step one: forget the database. No looking up recipes. We’re winging it."

He blinked at me. "Winging it?"

"Yes. We’re going to use whatever’s in the fridge and figure it out as we go. Trust me, it’ll be great."

He looked at me like there was a loading screen inside his head. "Statistically, this approach has a higher likelihood of failure. That is... good?"

"Exactly." I grinned, tossing him an apron. "Let's get cooking, Wall-E."

Connor caught the apron mid-air, holding it up like it was a wet sock. "Is this truly necessary for the process?"

"Oh yeah, big time," I said, tying my own around my waist. "It’s part of the uniform. Cooking without an apron is like... running a mission without a plan."

That got a faint quirk of his lips. "I wasn’t aware cooking was so strategic."

"It’s not," I said, pulling open the fridge and gesturing dramatically. "It’s pure chaos. Okay, what do we have?"

Connor peered inside with the precision of someone scanning a battlefield. It may as well have been, honestly. "Tomatoes, cheese, leftover chicken, and... two peppers approximately three days past their optimal freshness." No, I am not embarrassed about how I ration. Okay fine, a little bit.

"Perfect. We’re making pizza."

He straightened slightly, tilting his head at me. "A pizza is typically constructed using dough as a base. There is no dough present."

"There will be if we make it from scratch. Flour, water, some yeast if I remembered to buy it... probably. Easy."

As I started rummaging through the pantry, Connor stayed rooted in place, watching me like he was making notes like I'd be quizzing him on pantry rummaging etiquette later. When I turned around, a bag of flour in hand, I caught him staring.

"What?"

"I was considering how often you engage in these… unpredictable approaches. It’s unconventional. Yet, it appears to bring you joy."

I paused, caught off-guard by how earnestly he’d said it. "Yeah, I guess it does. Life’s too short to stress about being perfect all the time, you know?"

Connor seemed to mull that over, but instead of replying, he reached for the bag of flour. "Allow me. The chances of you spilling that are statistically high."

"Oh, wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," I said, rolling my eyes.

He smiled then- an actual, honest-to-goodness smile that made my stomach do a weird little flip.

We started working on the dough together. Well, I started working on the dough, he was fighting demons. It was hilarious. It was like the dough owed him money.

"Dude, dude, relax. The dough isn't your enemy. You're not interrogating the dough. You need to be gentle with it. We like the dough. The dough is our friend."

"The same way Hank is our friend?"

"Hank is dough, yes."

"Well, Hank is not responding well to my kneading."

Wait. A joke? Was that a joke? Holy shit.

I blinked at him, eyebrows shooting up. “Did you just…?”

His lips twitched, though it was still subtle. “I’m capable of humor when required.” I nudged him lightly with my elbow, the warmth of the moment sinking in. He gave the dough another half-hearted punch, then added, “I don't understand why Dough Hank isn't cooperating.”

“Well, firstly, stop punching it like it owes you money. You have to be gentle. Dough requires finesse.”

He tilted his head, his LED spinning in thought. “Finesse,” he repeated, his hands hesitating awkwardly above the dough.

His struggling with the dough was honestly the most adorable thing I have ever seen. He was trying, he really was, but his confusion from the dough not reciprocating for all his efforts and him not being able to wrap his head around it made for a hilarious staring contest between Dough Hank and Connor. He held it up and stared at it closely, possibly with malicious intent.

Earth to (Y/n), I stepped closer until I was pressed lightly against his side. “Here, let me show you.” Sliding my hands over his, I guided his movements, pressing gently into the dough, folding and rolling it in a smooth rhythm. “See? You’re not fighting it. You’re working with it.”

Connor followed my lead, his hands relaxing under mine. His head dipped slightly, and when I glanced up, I realized he was watching me instead of the dough. I was hyperaware of the fact that I was so close to him and was very sure he could figure out just how nervous I was feeling.

“So, we negotiate with the dough,” he murmured, his voice quieter, almost teasing now.

“Exactly,” I said, laughing softly. “Negotiation is key. Be nice, and it’ll be nice back.”

I watched him start over with dough Hank, this time, more gently. Like he was getting the hang of it. "I think I’m starting to understand," he murmured.

I raised an eyebrow. “Understand what?”

"What being human is about," he said quietly, his voice almost contemplative. “It’s about embracing it. The mess, the failure, the laughter. The joy of not being perfect. I quite like the idea of not having to be perfect all the time."

In all honesty, I was not sure how to respond to that. He looked like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders like someone had just told him it was okay to breathe for the first time. And, for a moment, I almost didn’t want to ruin it.

His LED flickered a soft yellow, his eyes- those damn calm eyes- finally looking a little less... distant. It felt like I was staring at the kind of person you’d want to confide in, the kind who’d get it.

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. “You okay there, Connor?”

He glanced up, that soft smile still hanging on his lips. “I believe so,” he said, voice uncharacteristically light. ���I think I’m finally making progress. With understanding humanity. And dough Hank.”

I snorted, quickly covering my mouth to hide the laugh. "Well, dough Hank was a tough nut to crack, but you did it, so good job."

He smiled, like he was proud of himself, and looked so damn cute. I shook myself out of my thoughts and grabbed the rolling pin, ready to get back to work. "Alright, now that we’ve figured out how to negotiate with dough, let’s make this pizza. We’re going all in."

Connor, still looking oddly content, glanced at the ingredients on the counter. "I assume we’ll be using the tomatoes, cheese, and chicken? I’ve been considering possible toppings. The peppers are not ideal."

"Connor, I have no regard for my safety and you don't have a digestive system. I think we'll be fine."

"Suit yourself, (Y/n)." Again. That damn lilt in his voice when he says my name. It's like he knows what it's doing to me. Asshole.

After about 20 minutes, Dough Hank had fully become Pizza Hank and it was finally time.

"Alright, Baymax. Moment of Truth."

"I must ask. What is with the various robot nicknames? Are they terms of endearment?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Noted. In that case, it only seems appropriate to assign you one in return... Sugar?"

"Oh wow, no. God, just, no."

"Sport?"

"Nope."

"Champ?"

"Worse!"

"I'm bad at this, aren't I?"

"Baby steps, C3PO."

I liked this. Banter, his company, this... the whole thing. Whatever it can be called. Watching him discover things I have known my entire life is such an enthralling experience. It's like that one revelation you have when you're like 7 or 8 when you realize that you are alive TM. Except this time, you're watching someone else have it. I don't know if any of this makes sense, but what I do know is that I don't want this to end any time soon.

"Wow, this is disgusting."

Pizza Hank was a pile of dog shit. It was like a troll and an ogre had a baby on my tongue. No self-respecting person would put that in their mouth a second time. My mouth hates me for this.

"I thought failure was welcome. Is it not?"

"Yeah, but this is straight-up nuclear, my guy. I wouldn't eat this if someone paid me money."

"Well, while I cannot taste food the way humans do, I am able to simulate the experience of tasting by analyzing the composition of the food. I could describe it to you if you would like."

"Really? What do you think?" he picked up a slice and confidently took a bite out of it.

"Yeah, this is awful."

I put my hands up in resignation. Cooking was a disaster. I am useless and do not deserve nice things. Pain is eternal and hell beckons.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, this is all my fault."

"Failure, as you pointed out, is part of the process. And it wasn’t a waste of time."

I groaned, dropping onto a stool and burying my face in my hands. "It’s not even edible. We can’t exactly bond over a pile of inedible sludge."

“I don’t think the goal here was actually to cook something edible, was it? From what I understand, it was about experiencing the act of cooking- and bonding with each other. By that measure, I believe we have succeeded.”

I was caught off guard. He thought we "successfully bonded". Please excuse me while I pass away.

"You really think so?"

He nodded while smiling at me reassuringly while putting the mangled remains of pizza Hank back on the plate. "Besides, per my observation, your shift in mood could be a result of hunger."

"Yeah, I haven't eaten anything all day, have I?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You wanna get good pizza and go to Real Hank's place?"

"I would love to. I have been meaning to see Sumo."

cut-scene from the car ride <3

"I just assumed the pizza would be edible. You know? I can call it optimism all I want but that's just a lack of planning."

"Is lack of planning an inherent human trait?"

"Oh, Yeah. Top of the list, actually."

a/n: now I liked Short Circuit more but here's part 2 <3 also yes I took the cooking makes us human bit from another popular tumblr post, i just thought it was hilarious

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[hoonieyun]

letter from: jaeyun ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

i've been down this road before. fell in love on christmas night but on new years day i woke up and he wasn't by my side... -ariana grande "santa tell me"

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader

genre: romance - the smallest amount of angst - fluff - suggestive - strangers to lovers - both down bad for each other

warnings: suggestive, kissing, profanity, and overall 18+

summary: jaeyun runs into the girl from a one night stand

christmas herald masterlist ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

word count: 2706

College parties were not your thing.

Sitting at a park? Your thing. 

Watching YouTube essays on conspiracy theories? Your thing. 

Collecting antique vases and flowerpots? Your thing. 

College parties? NOT your thing. 

But here you are, in your best friend’s car trying to convince her to drive back to your shared apartment even though the two of you were parked down the street from the frat house. This specific college party was at the same frat house where you met a sweet & cute boy who you ended up having a one night stand with & who happened to ghost you after

Sure, you weren’t expecting for it to go anywhere since it was just a one night stand, but you didn’t expect for him to just outright ghost you. Nothing that morning after and still nothing 5 months after. 

It was a bit snowy as it was just a week before winter break and although you definitely would prefer to be studying for your finals, you knew your best friend would not leave you alone about the party so you just agreed to go. Regretfully, so. 

The two of you enter the house, smiles and greetings from the people you knew. You saw Sunghoon with some girl you didn’t recognize, you could’ve sworn he had a girlfriend that lived somewhere else, but you weren’t completely sure. You and your best friend find your way to the kitchen to grab some drinks and because you knew your friend would be getting quite wasted, you decided to be the designated driver for the night. Especially since you knew she wanted to be here more than you, not drinking that night wasn’t a problem for you. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

It’s about an hour into the party when you look up from your phone that you’ve been glued to when you realize your friend was nowhere to be seen. You sigh and haul yourself up from the couch, the two pairs of couples making out next to you falling into the empty space where you were previously sitting. Honestly, you were glad you had an excuse to get up because you couldn’t bear to be sitting next to them any longer. 

As you’re navigating around the frat house to find your friend, you walk up the stairs only to run into a familiar face, Jake. He was rushing out of a room that was just at the top of the stairs and you collide with his chest as he exits the room, neither of you seeing the other until your bodies came in contact. 

“Shit!” you gasp as you look up at him. 

“It’s you…” Jake asks, clearly remembering you from your night together. 

“Me? Do I know you?” you respond, choosing to act like you didn’t remember him because you were still slightly hurt he ghosted you. Well, maybe more than slightly. 

Jake slightly gasps, his plump lips parting at your confession. He couldn’t believe you didn’t remember him. The night you two shared was great, he’s thought about it since and when he ran into you just know he felt butterflies in his stomach just like the first night the two of you met. You try to walk away but Jake grabs your hand, pulling you towards an empty room in the frat house that you’re assuming is his room. 

You weren’t sure why you didn’t fight off Jake pulling you to be alone but a part of you kind of liked it. 

As you enter his room, you take in the details. Several hoodies were thrown around the room, LED lights outlining the ceiling, and a soccer ball sat in the corner with a pair of cleats. “You really don’t remember me?” Jake asks and you’re unsure if you want to keep up the act but ultimately decide to keep acting anyways. 

“Not sure… Are you my TA for physics?” you ask and he teasingly rolls his eyes, starting to think he was catching on. Jake slowly saunters closer to you and when you notice that he’s closing the gap between the two of you, you decide to turn around and face his window. Choosing to stare out the window and watch as snow has begun to slowly fall from the sky, creating a thin layer of ice on the grass outside. 

You could feel Jake getting closer behind you and although it was making your stomach do somersaults, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and look at him. The last time you were looking into his eyes the two of you were in a compromising position and wrapped in a blanket on your bed. Jake’s breath sent a shiver down your spine as you felt it on the back of your neck. His hand finds it’s way around your waist and suddenly you’re being twirled around to face him, a small yelp leaves your lips and your hands land on Jake’s chest to stop yourself from fully colliding into him like you did just a few minutes ago. 

Your faces are awfully close to each other and your breathing is matched up with his. He’s staring at your lips and you couldn’t help but do the same. You recalled how soft and pillowly they were and you were simply trying your best not to kiss him right then and there. Jake was beginning to close the small gap between the two of your lips but suddenly your phone rings, a small text tone echoing in his room; breaking the silence that surrounded the two of you. 

Pulling yourself out of Jake’s grasp, you pull your phone out of your pocket to see who it was and it reveals a text from your friend. She was texting you to say that she’d be going home to her ex that she ran into and although you were going to protest, she had already sent several texts after saying that you couldn’t say anything to change her mind. I guess you were in no place to protest since you were in somewhat a similar situation. Being reunited with someone you were intimate with in the past. 

Jake suddenly grabs your phone and tosses it onto the bean bag chair sitting behind you. “Hey!” you exclaim, shocked at his actions but Jake just chuckles at your response. He found you so cute and you didn’t even realize it. 

“That was mean! Why do you always do that?” you say, turning around to bend over and grab your phone and Jake tries his best to stop himself from checking you out but ultimately fails. “What did you say?” Jake questions as you turn back around to face him. 

“Hmm?” you ask, unsure of what he was asking. 

“You said and I quote, “Why do you always do that?” End quote.” Jake says and you realize you’ve been caught as you referenced the time he grabbed your phone and threw it on your couch during your one night stand. He could tell on your face that you were aware that you slipped up and that you did remember him. “Shit.” you muttered to yourself. 

“You do remember me!” Jake asks, coming closer and wrapping his arm around your waist once again, this time you’ve put your hands in between the two of you to create some space but it wasn’t successful as his strength brings the two of you closer anyways. Once again, you’re both staring at one another and pondering about the night you two shared. 

“Why’d you act like you don’t remember me?” he asks and you’re slightly unsure if you should tell him or not because you didn’t want to come off as clingy. You pull yourself off of him and take a seat on the bean bag chair, plopping down and making a small thud sound as your bottom makes contact with the chair. You cross your arms and pout at him, looking away to avoid the conversation like you were a child who had just gotten caught doing something you shouldn’t have. 

“So?” he asks and you weren’t sure why but you found yourself responding to him. Like you were compelled to do so and not because he was smiling at you with that stupid smile that caused butterflies– no, caused a whole zoo to dance in your stomach. That smile that you had been thinking about for the last few months and even had dreamt about. 

God, how did this guy have so much power over you for someone you’ve only now just had two interactions with. Unbeknownst to you however, you had the same power over him. You couldn’t help but comply and just tell him the truth. “Well if you hadn’t ghosted me after that night you would’ve been more memorable.” you say with a shrug and pout, wanting to tease him a bit because you knew that you could get a reaction out of him; and you were right. Jake pretends to be hurt by clutching his chest and flinching, like you had just stabbed him in the heart. 

“I’m not memorable enough for you, baby? You sure did seem like you were having the time of your life, I know I did…” Jake says in response, jutting out his bottom lip and before you knew it you were melting into his touch. Like he just knew all the right ways to be able to make you swoon and cause your heart to swell with awe. 

“Why’d you ghost me?” you ask and you could tell he’s shocked. Jake explains that he did text you, as a matter of fact, he texted you several times later that day when he didn’t hear back. He even went as far as calling you but he heard nothing back so he thought you were the one that ghosted him. You weren’t sure why none of his texts or calls went through and by your expression, Jake knew you were being genuine and so was he. 

Jake pulls out his phone to show you the texts and calls and that’s when you notice it. He had input the middle three numbers out of order, you assumed because he was hungover and could barely think straight. Your number was meant to be “388” but Jake had input into his phone “338”. The two of you laugh off the situation and how the two of you were very clearly into each other and wanted for it to go further but Jake’s hungover state had sabotaged the two of you. 

“So does this mean you like me?” Jake asks and you pretend to think about your answer even though you knew the answer was yes. “I don’t know but I think you might like me more since you… texted me 8 times in 1 hour.” you respond, looking at his phone halfway through your sentence to check his texts to the number that definitely wasn’t yours. You didn’t know why but teasing Jake lovingly came so easy to you and for Jake being weak to your advances came naturally. “Alright, alright.” Jake says, throwing his arms up in the air in a surrender and for a second you miss the presence he had around your waist. 

“You caught me, I like you, don’t arrest me!” he says and you can’t help but laugh at him. The two of you share a laugh and for the rest of the party, the two of you spend the night in Jake’s room getting to know one another. 

You learned that Jake played football (not the American kind), he had a cute dog named Layla, he was born in Australia hence his accent, he’s a physics major, and that he really likes fishing. You also learned that Jake was a natural yapper and you loved that about him because you could listen to him talk with his accent for hours, like it was a lullaby that could lull you to sleep. Jake enjoyed yapping to you because you were genuinely interested in what he had to say, something he wasn’t used to with his ex-girlfriends who often do not actually pay attention to him and just brush off whatever he’d say. 

You weren’t always a yapper, only to special people you were comfortable around and you soon learned that Jake would be added to that list. He was such an active listener you felt like you were talking to one of your girls when talking to him, his reactions were the same and he’d agree with whatever you’d say, even adding comments that some of your best friends have said before. 

The rest of the night was filled with laughter as you two continued to get to know each other, not even noticing that the party downstairs had died down until Jake got a text from one of his frat bros that he and “his girl” were being too loud. Although you weren’t Jake’s girl, you liked the sound of that. 

“Sorry, he thinks we’re dating because I haven’t been able to stop talking about you since we first met.” Jake confesses and it makes you even more happy to know that you were on his mind as much as he was on yours. “I don’t know… I don’t mind.” you respond and Jake looks at you, tilting his head like he was unsure. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. 

“I like the sound of being called your girl.” and a smile spreads onto Jake’s lips like he had been waiting for you to say that. He sits up from his current position, laid across his bed with you laying on his chest; you sit up with him. 

“Yeah? Does that mean you’d let me take you out on our first date?” he asks and you tell him that you think this moment right now could be considered your face date but he disagrees. Although he’s enjoying this moment of you being in his arms, he wants to take you out on a real date where he plans everything and all you have to do is look pretty and show up, knowing that you’ve already had the first part down. 

“Okay, fine. So ask me…” you say, straightening yourself out and pulling his blanket off of you. Jake does the same except instead of staying on his bed, he kneels in front of you beside the bed and you watch him with a smile. 

“YN, my beautiful queen who was almost the one that got away; will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?” Jake asks and at first you were going to tease him by saying no, jokingly, his gesture and eagerness was just so cute you couldn’t help but accept right away. When Jake hears the word “yes” leave your lips, he jumps back onto his bed and wraps his arms around you in a hug; peppering kisses onto your face. 

“I promise, this is going to be the best date of your life.” he says in between kisses. 

“And I promise, that I won’t be the one that got away.” you respond, finally connecting your lips together for a tender and passionate kiss. 

“Also… you should probably update my number on your phone.” you advice and he does it immediately, almost dropping his phone in the process. He quickly asks you to pose for the camera to take a contact picture and you ask him the same. 

“What did you put my name as?” you ask and he shows it to you, the contact reading as “YN My Pretty Girl” with a red heart. “What about me?” Jake asks and you show him in return, “Boyfriend: Maybe?” he reads out loud, once again pouting at you and you once again, laugh at his cuteness. 

“Hey! It only means that you’re halfway to being my boyfriend!” and like clockwork, Jake is flashing his pretty smile once again and hugging you. “I’m never letting you go.” he says pulls you down into a laid out position much like how you were previously. “and I’d stay in your arms forever.” you mutter and Jake smiles, pressing a kiss onto your temple as the warmth of your bodies and the sounds of your heart beating so closely together lull you both to sleep.

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[minminyoonjii]

i had such a brainrot about poly!ot8skz hybrid au with fem bunny reader where reader had gotten emotional about something (you can decide what) which led to fox jeongin comforting reader and the boys walk in… EXCEPT, it’s the scene from zootopia when judy is crying and nick is teasing her as she tries to take the pen off of him…

i just SEE jeongin doing this to comfort you and to make you giggle… it’s also kinda 🫣 enjoy ml!!

(link below)

🔗: https://youtu.be/8vOBExaLXu4?feature=shared

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome|Domestic Settings|Fluffy|Fox! Yang Jeongin|Bunny Gender Neutral! Reader|Tooth Rotting Sweet

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 393

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you watched a kdrama so beautifully written just to make your heart sob. "Can they please just get together already?" you sniffled, watching the male lead die for the nth time. Your ears flopped over your cheeks, your tail twitching with each sniffle you took. You rubbed your tears with your fist, wearing Chan's oversized hoodie. 

His wolf figure was ten times bigger than the rest, thus giving you the best hoodie blanket in the pack. You blew your nose into some tissues, watching the female lead reincarnated again to save her lover's  life. Jeongin bit back a smile, pretending to be nonchalant, "What are you crying at, shortcake?" he asked, crossing his arms. You sniffled, rambling about the show, each word getting drowned out by your sobs. 

Jeongin swallowed a laugh, "That's it?" he said, just to rile you up. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Innie, it's romantic. It's love that has so many layers that even the soul can't forget it. I know it's dumb I'm crying this hard over a show. I know I'm really just a dumb bunny, but -" you ranted when suddenly you heard a familiar tape rewind. "I'm really just a dumb bunny," repeated back at you. 

Jeongin smirked, loving your shocked expression, "Bun, you know I always take your emotions to heart right. When have I ever disregarded your feelings, hm? Except earlier, of course," he said, brushing back your hair. You sniffled, hopping into his arms, "Asshole," you whispered, sighing in relief as you burrowed into his chest. Jeongin chuckled, holding you close, "Aww, you bunnies are so emotional," he cooed, pampering kisses on your forehead. 

You giggled into his chest, arm weakly trying to grab the recorder from his hand. Jeongin smirked, "Ah, are you trying to grab the pen? Is that what this is?" he chuckled, holding it higher. You smile against his pec, "Give," you whispered, comfy in his hold. The members tiptoed in, hoping not to break the adoring moment in front of them.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, his ears burning from embarrassment, but as long as your lips stayed in a smile, he'd do anything. You  burrowed closer, comforted by his warmth scent and his tail wrapped around your waist. Jeongin scoffed a smile, clicking the recording once again just to hear your silly giggles.

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut

Violet/Jinx:

These sisters are fucking crazy. Little one has literal heart eyes over her cool butch big sister at one point. Butch big sister toxic dates a doppleganger of crazy little sister. Crazy little sister makes it her life's mission to kill said doppleganger. They have a fight there theyre sitting one one another grinding. crazy!!!

If you take one look on the season 2 poster you will get it (though I have not seen it yet so going mostly by season 1). Little sister psychosexually obsessed with older sister. Big sister chronically incapable of not protecting younger sister. Both dependend on the other for their own sense of identity. Jinx takes one look at the sister's love interest and not only goes crazy with jealousy but also tries to make Vi choose between them. They both say the other are the reason they haven't killed themselves in the time things were really bad and they were apart.

Sisters to enemies to lovers, babey

Jinx’s eyes are canonically the shade violet red

Vi’s eyes are canonically the shade powder blue

Vi’s girlfriend has blue eyes (like powder/jinx AND her mother) and blue hair (like powder/jinx AND her mother)

powder/jinx WANTED vi to be the one to kill her. That whole scene where Vi has Jinx pinned and she’s CHOKING HER (gay) and she’s giving these sad wet puppy eyes and tells her that “I’m glad it’s you, it has to be you.”

I don’t know how to send links but that scene from cait’s pov where jinx is blowing in Vi’s ear. LIKE COME ON

Jinx died (fake or not, Vi thinks she’s dead) and a big factor for her dying was that she wanted Vi to be happy and stripped Vi of having to make the choice between her (Jinx) and her gf who looks like her. Like ok queen

"It had to be you."

Klaus/Elijah:

Immortal vampire brothers who have spent a thousand years hurting and loving one another. An elder brother who carries the guilt of not protecting his little brother from the horrors of their childhood and a bastard-child younger brother who considers himself both outcast and judge, jury, and executioner to his siblings’ wrongdoings. Their immortal vow to stand as one, always and forever, has led to a millennium of talking past one another, taking away each other’s loved ones, and, of course plotting the downfall of their enemies together. When faced with death, neither can bear to go alone, and vow instead to die in each other’s arms. Which they do.

They have lived every life possible and yet they can’t escape each other. They have canonically been in love with the same woman at least twice. Elijah falls in love with the woman who Klaus HAD A BABY WITH. Normal brother behavior!!! Klaus begged Elijah to run away with him when they were kids and Elijah is still haunted 1000 years later by the fact that he refused. Elijah once came up with a whole-ass plot to murder Klaus but at the last second couldn’t bring himself to do it and betrayed everybody he allied with to save Klaus instead. They just can’t quit each other!!! And when Klaus is suffering some magical bullshit and has to die, Elijah’s like “yeah I’ll die with you, my life is meaningless without you.” Brothers of all time!

Part of Klaus hates Elijah because he will never be him and his siblings will never love him and respect him the same way (I'm saying siblings, but I really mean Rebekah) but he would also die for him in a heartbeat. He would never admit it but he's living for the attention that Elijah gives him, no matter what kind. He would probably be happy in a polycule with him and his sister if he wasn't chronically paranoid that they actually hate him and want to get rid of him. By which point he punishes them by putting them in a magic coma for a few centuries and bringing their bodies with him everywhere he goes.

https://www.tumblr.com/icebluecyanide/170419680277/dont-speak-to-me-of-elijah-he-loves-you-yes-he

“I need you, brother. The monster in me can only be checked by the monster in you.”

[eclipseberrycake]

Satisfied (Onesided! Ginger x Reader x Cosmo)

AN: If y'all know Hamilton, y'all know. Now I know, I have requests and the next part of MBC promised (which is almost done and I'm so excited to show you guys), but I was struck with a thought in my headache riddled brain which was scattered all sorts. And it's my Blog so. >:D sucks to be y'all. /lh Also sorry for being gone for son long, I re-dislocated by knee and that was no bueno </3

This is the MBC! Reader, but I don't really emphasis on Sprout and Astro in this, so I just put it as Cosmo.

Lil bit of a songfic, but it's mostly just inspired by it.

Warnings: One-sided/unreciprocated affections, Ginger gets sad. Maybe her mains shouldn't pmo next time.

☁ Being a holiday toon had both it's pros and cons.

☁ On one hand, she loves seeing all the children and their excited little faces as they scamper about, smiles brightened by the cheer of the season. There's always a semi-permanent smell of cinnamon and pine in the air, lingering and almost tangible on the tongue.

☁ She gets to spend her days baking and enjoying life with the other toons, talking to them about their holiday wishes and going on runs with them. Those were her favorite moments, by far, were seeing all the other toons in action, playing a part that was so well rehearsed to them it was practically muscle memory.

☁ And, she got to see you. You were a distractor, a damn good one at that, and she found herself drawing towards you more and more.

☁The first time she met you was pre-outbreak. Her and the other holiday toons were just created for Gardenview's first holiday season, and some of the other commons were tasked with getting them acquainted. While originally she suspected she would be paired with Cosmo, as she was his cousin, she was pleasantly surprised when you popped up.

☁ You gave her a cheerful little wave as your entire body seemed to bounce with joy, never staying still as you introduced yourself. You offered a hand for her to shake, she remembers, your hold firm and confident. She remembers thinking in that very moment how your iris' reflected the light like stained glass. You were still talking, she remembers, but not about what. Just the sound of your voice.

☁ You spoke with vigor. Bold and bright, intelligent about whatever you were going on about. She liked that. She wasn't very bold herself, admittedly, it was a family trait, so to see you so exuberant made her chest burn.

☁ You were almost like a phoenix. One of those fire birds the children would tell her about. They were in stories and were known for their bright flames. There were more to them, but she couldn't quite recall, all she knew was that, like a phoenix, you burned like a star, calling her attention as if she were a moth.

☁ You led her around the kitchen areas, where she was able to spot Cosmo, waving at him. While he did acknowledge her with a bright grin and tight hug, she knew his eyes were focused somewhere else.

☁ She tried not to think about it, but ultimately it was all she could focus on. You welcomed your own warm greeting with Cosmo, making his cheeks dust a rosy orange as he wrapped his arms around you, his tail wagging in a blur behind him as he nuzzled into your neck.

☁ He looked at you like you were not only a star, but the moon, sun and planets all in one. Like you were a sight far beyond his own comprehension that he was merely lucky enough to see.

☁ Like he was simply a man in love, seeing the very object of his adoration.

☁ The thought stung in her chest. Cosmo, oh sweet Cosmo, was such a lover at heart. She knew this. He would give and give until he couldn't any longer, then would try to give more. She knew, if she had made her adorations of you known, he would've backed off. He would've encouraged her to get to know you. He would've done everything in his power to help her shine bright enough to match you.

☁ But she couldn't do that to him. Not when he looked so smitten, so...in love.

☁ That would be cruel.

☁ Though she supposed it was as equally cruel to force herself to admire you from a distance, watch as your flame burned with you, yearning just to feel the heat. She just wanted to know what it was like to hold your hand and twirl away to Christmas songs like Tisha did. Or to feel your hands wrap around her waist to boost her to the higher branches like you did with Scraps. Or even just for you to sit beside her with a cup of hot chocolate and cookies like you did with Goob.

☁ She wanted all those things and more. She wanted to know what your early morning voice sounded like, still heavy with sleep as you fought off the pull of your exhaustion once more. She wanted to know what it was like to feel you crawl into bed and collapse under the covers, whining for cuddles because you've had such a long day. She wanted to wake up and see the rays of sun cross your face as you continue to snooze, unaware and unrushed by the events of the day.

☁ She wanted. It burned in her chest so tightly it hurt, brushing against her ribs and pulling every time she caught a glimpse of your smile. The sound of your laughter made her stomach churn, knowing it wasn't because of her. Even the way you walked had her captivated, from the way your feet hit the ground, turning as you adjusted to upkeep conversation, seamlessly moving like a dancer.

☁ Just once she wanted you to dance around her, smiling like she was the same sun in your sky that you were in hers. Laughing at her jokes and spilling compliments unto her, holding her hand and kissing her cheek.

☁ Just the thought of it makes her cheeks burn before she's shaking the thought away.

☁ The shake of her head knocks whatever flashback she was reminiscing about loose, and she's back in med-bay, shoulders hunched as she fiddles with her blanket.

☁ It was a hard night, she remembers, a constant switch between throwing up whatever she could and clutching at her aching head. Cosmo was there, supporting her wherever she could, but to her surprise, you were there too. You were constantly moving from the med-bay, to wherever, returning to pass Cosmo something before dashing off again.

☁ It's a soft comfort, knowing you're there, and you're okay. She feared what had happened to you during the outbreak, but was caught where she was and left with the consequences.

☁ Cosmo had told her that you were the one to rescue her, briefly explaining the entire situation. You had risked your own life to save her own, and her chest ached at the thought.

☁ To see you once more was a dream come true, but to know you had done that all for her was....exhilarating.

☁ Cosmo was mid-explanation of her injuries when you made a return for longer than a second, looking exhausted, but still upright. You perked up when you noticed her gaze on you, giving a happy little wave. "Ginger! Good to see you awake! I hope the nurse hasn't been giving you a hard time." You joke, circling around behind Cosmo even as he shoots you a look.

☁ "Bite me." The cake rolls huffs, making you snicker as you angle your head to flutter your lashes at him. "I already diiiid." You laugh even as he swats at you.

☁ Ginger giggles at your antics, loving the mischievous smirk on your features even if Cosmo looks less then impressed by your antics. You settle quickly, diverting your attention to her with a far softer smile on your features. "How are you feeling?"

☁ "Okay." She responds, already feeling that familiar flutter return to her chest. You nod at this, perching yourself at the end of her bed as one of your hands gently sets itself on her leg. The very action makes her nervous system shudder, cheeks turning a softs pink as she pulls her hair over her shoulder to play with it.

☁ "I'm glad." You breathe out and the very noise you makes as you lean back, running a hand over your forehead and down the back of your head. The relief makes your shoulders sag, the evident (In hindsight) ease in tension relaxing the muscles in your face. You look older like this, more experienced, even if your youth peaks through in hints she knows to look for.

☁ It's in the same shine of your eyes, even as they haze a bit, unfocused but sharp nonetheless. Trained to pinpoint the slightest bits of movement, yet eased enough now they only look at Cosmo. She can watch in real time as the color of your eyes fills itself with something new. It's hearty and bright, nearly making your eyes gleam like an angel's. She knows what it is, and what hurts more is that there's something else there. There's a comfort there that's unique to you and him. Something that's always been there, and she's either remained ignorant or blissfully unaware of how to notice it.

☁ She can see it all now though. Much more clearly than she ever has before.

☁ It's comfort in the love you've found with Cosmo. It's the nervous butterflies of crushes and fresh romance that have settled and instead evolved into a home of reliability and adoration. It's the swell of your heart at the very sound of his name and the sight of him in any capacity, easing off the immediate jittery reaction into a softer, welcoming one that she's sure eases you more than anything else. It's the evolution of shy touches and evading eyes once they've been caught looking into lingering glances with cheeky quips and hands finding purchase in places they've traced a thousand times.

☁ There's other places she can see how young you look, especially in this light. It's in the way your fur falls, untamed and wild, windblown from the running, jumping and dodging you've done as a distractor. It's in your hands that carry a mass of scars. but no wrinkles. That are rough and calloused, but not worn and rigid. It's in your posture that slumps with fatigue and the weight of your responsibilities, not years of experience.

☁ Swallowing, she allows herself the one bit of comfort as she reaches and grabs your hand. It's not warm like she imagined, rather cool and clammy. You must clench your fists when you run and it must've cooled your palm since then.

☁ She gently drags the pads of her fingers along the lines of your palm before gently clasping your hand in her two. "Thank you. For what you've done."

☁ You blink at this and the tension returns, making her inwardly frown. But all you do is smile, that same, gentle and understanding twitch of your lips even as you avoiding look at her. No, you're looking at Cosmo.

☁ "No one really thanks me." You start, looking down at your lap for a second before returning to look at Cosmo. His own eyes are filled with the same look yours are and one of his hands find itself on your thigh. His knuckles flex as he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if urging you to continue. "So, thank you. But I truly don't think I'm worthy of it." Your lips upturn into a mischievous little thing. "Not if Sprout has anything to say about it."

☁ Cosmo scoffs. "With the amount of stress you bring to his life, I don't blame him." Her cousin shakes his head. "But. Ginger's right. You do deserve to be thanked."

☁ You don't look like you believe them, but let the subject drop with a optimistic little huff. "Well, if distracting is what it takes to meet some of the best people in my life," You pause and Ginger's heart practically shatters as your eyes immediately turn to Cosmo. He's already watching you and look that feels too intimate for her to witness laces his features. "It would have been worth it."

☁ The remnants of her chest collect into a dusted fragment that holds some sort of semblance to what it was before only to absolutely shutter and collapse once more as you shake off and stand, clapping your hands. She misses the feel of your touch and the warmth you provided simply by being there. It's momentarily made worse by the fact that you turn so Cosmo is in your immediate vicinity first, rather than turn to her first, even if you end up facing them both.

☁ "I have to get going. Sprout caught me on my last little run to get supplies and made me promise to get something to eat or else he would, and I quote, 'drag my sorry ass to the kitchen'." You shrug at this, even if Ginger has to hide a giggle behind a hand. Cosmo waves you off with a roll of his eyes. "Sure, sure, blame it on the warden. Maybe your just sick of my company."

☁ You fake an affronted gasp, holding a hand to your chest even as your lips tilt into a smirk far too charming to mean you took any real offense. "Me? Tire of you? Puh-lease." You lean down, gently cupping Cosmo's cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

☁ The simple action softens her cousin by a rather drastic degree, making his shoulders fall and his tail wag. She has to look away from the act for just a second, looking back before either of you can notice.

☁ You separate with a wave and promises of seeing Cosmo during bedtime, giving a final well wishes to Ginger before leaving. You were out of sight before long and Ginger swallowed the suddenly thick lump in her throat.

☁ Looking over, she watched Cosmo, who was looking at where you left with the same lovesick grin he used to wear pre-outbreak. It was just as dazed and awestruck as it was then, even if it's tampered by the familiarity of knowing you and your isms' and your little habits. She's sure Cosmo has become more than well-acquainted with you and who you are, your character and your person. She's sure he's even been witness to your very spirit and soul in the early cracks of down, bearing witness to your freshly awoken mind as you lace nothing but sweet nothings about and to him within the early air between you two.

☁ "You look happy." She says, despite herself. It seems to stun her cousin as he blinks before turning to her, all rosy cheeks and wagging tail as he holds the palm of his hand to his cheek, probably feeling the heat there.

☁ "I am." He breathes out. "They- All of them just..." He seemingly can't find the words, kicking his feet just a bit. "They make me want to be a better person. I just- I can't explain it."

☁ She could. She could explain all too well how she wants nothing more than to be the person you think of her as. To improve herself so that she may one day hold even a candle to the image you have of her and hopefully repay all the kindness you have ever shown. To be the person she wishes to be if only to ease your own burdens and the responsibilities you've placed on your own shoulders, just to see the beam of your smile once more.

☁ She wonders how things may have changed if she had been selfish, just once. How it could've been her, holding your hand and sharing a bed with you. How it could've been her that you look at like no one else is in the room. It could've been her that shares inside jokes and small little bouts of laughter with you. It should've been her.

☁ A flicker of a thought passes that it still could be her, but as she looks at Cosmo, it immediately wilts. She could never take that away from him, not even in a fantastical thought that blisters and pops the seconds its prodded.

☁ "You don't need too, it's written all over your face." She gently teases, and he rolls his eyes. He swats at her prodding hand, scoffing just a bit.

☁ "Oh stuff it." He scoffs, sliding off the bed. "I'm gonna go get you something to eat. You want a book or anything while I'm gone?" He looks back and she shakes her head.

☁ He takes this for what it is before leaving, shutting the door behind him and leaving her to her thoughts. Before she can stop them, they wander straight back to you, despite every effort she tries to make to remind herself that your not hers to think about. She buries her head in her knees and clenches her fist, if only to numb herself from the reminder of feeling your touch against her hand.

☁ On the other side of the door, Cosmo stares at the plain white of it before retracting his hand with a sigh. He'd recognized the look on Ginger's face, having seen it a few too many times on Goob's, and his chest aches at the thought of putting his own cousin through the heartbreak of rejection. Yet, he can't bring himself to mend this injury. Not at the expense of himself. He'd spent too much of himself on others too constantly. You were his one reprieve from a lifetime of consistent giving. He wasn't sure what else he could give.

☁ If there was one thing he would never dream of even thinking of giving up was his chance with you. He had worked too hard and given up too much of himself, his well-being, even his own sanity in the face of those twisteds. You and him and Sprout and Astro had worked too hard for far too long for anything to break that up.

☁ So while he wishes for his cousin to continue healing and her utmost happiness, he doesn't wish for it enough to give up you.

[kamisama-kyaa]

ow guys and girls (not all) getting jealous seeing you with a new recruit

TW: Cassidy's headcanon is a little mature... (eyes emoji)

Hanzo He'll have to remind himself that you can be friends and hangout with anyone you want. Being jealous is selfish and childish... right? So why does he feel so sad seeing you happy with someone else? He understands that you love him more than anything. But sometimes this man just wants you to himself. When you finally get back to Hanzo, he'll make sure to hold you close in the privacy of his room and tell you that he just wants to be enough for you. Please tell him he is enough and that there is no one else that will come in between you both. It will make him feel more confident in himself. :(

Genji The ultimate playboy when he was his younger self...oh how the tables have turned. He used to make all the girls jealous of each other if they got to talked to him. He's used to people being jealous of him if anything. So when this weird feeling started when he say you with a random new recruit in the lounge talking and laughing, what got into him? Genji couldn't help himself. He quickly walked up and excused you both as he took your hand and led you out of the Gibraltar lounge. Was it rude? He simply was not thinking nor did he care. He did apologize for the sudden intrusion while walking you to his room. In there all alone with you, he confessed how he felt. It seemed like the most mature thing.

"Sorry, (Name)... I wasn't thinking...Is it okay if we just lay together for a little?" Genji will lay you down onto his bed that he bought for you. He'll lay on his side propped up by an elbow and watch you closely. Feel free to fall asleep, he just wants to feel like he can protect you for a little bit.

Cassidy He'll walk up to that son of a gun and tell them how it is. "Howdy. Looks like you've gotten to meet my partner, (Name). Ain't they a sight for sore eyes?" He'll sling an arm around you and give a look at the new recruit that just radiates 'Get away or I'll kick your ass' energy. After the recruit scurries off to who knows where, Cassidy will give you a big o'l smile. He kind acts like he was never jealous in the first place and just tells you, "I'm just lettin' others know what is mine." No matter what, the day will end with the two of you in bed. Expect him to to be a bit more aggressive and possessive than usual. Think of him being more forceful in the way he'll grab at you and force himself into you. Cassidy will lean down and whisper in your ear, "I'm your huckleberry" "Only I can make you feel like this, pumpkin."

Brigitte "Hey, (Name)...Can we talk?" You looked over to see your adorable lover at the door waiting for a response. You told the newbie that you'll see them around or maybe in a future mission. After walking into the hallway with Brig, she asks if you could follow her to somewhere private. You guys end up in a hidden park outside of Gibraltar. You asked if there was anything wrong. Brig can't help but shift back and forth while trying to form a coherent sentence. "I...Sorry I just felt like I wanted to be alone with you. Honestly, I think I got a little jealous watching you talk to someone." You couldn't help but sadly smile and give her a kiss on the cheek. It took her by surprise. "You're not mad at me? Isn't it selfish of me to whisk you away when you're making friends...?" You tell her that it's something you can both work on; to be able to feel confident in each other and so jealousy doesn't have to be a thing. "You're right. I need to work on it. But, I'm feeling better already!"

Kiriko "Huh...So do you like hanging around them more than me?" Kiriko will playfully ask. Of course, she was only half joking...other half seriously asking. You would reassure her that you like spending time with her but you just wanted to say hi to the new person! "Alright, but can they do this?!" She'll bust out her kunai and start juggling them. You can only watch your silly partner try and impress you while you giggle. Kiriko will join in on the giggling session, making sure to catch all her kunai and stuff them in her pockets. "We're the perfect match... right?" You can see some uncertainty in her eye while she looks directly at you. Simply pull her into a tight hug and this will erase any lingering fear of you leaving her.

Reaper The person literally disappears. You never see that new recruit. Did your lover have something to do with this? You may never know. Maybe you should keep your distance with those who come around...

Moira She would definitely deny any accusations of her being jealous! Do not even try to confront her or ask her why she's acting strange. "What are you on about?" Moira will scoff. You can try to tease her all you like, but it'll come back and bite you in the end. She always knows how to come out on top. After slightly opening up and telling you about her feelings, you'll have to make sure to console her and confess your undying love and loyalty... or else!

[darkfictionjude]

Jude, I've been wondering about something.

So, there's this all Nia hate, some in good faith, some in bad faith. And you said multiple times it's due to the fact she's a woman, which obviously is a factor.

But I've been thinking...

Would Nia have so many haters and Imre so many lovers if their roles were reversed? As in, if Nia was the "manipulative bastard who seems sweet on first glance" and Imre the "childhood friends who 'abandonned' Crowny when they needed him"? While Nia being a female character is obviously part of the whole thing, I've witnessed a lot of VERY strong hatred towards characters who "betrayed the MC" in other IFs. No matter if the RO was MC's lover or best friend, if a betrayal happened, a bunch of people hate SO MUCH on said RO, no matter their gender. So far I've actually never seen it with a set-female RO (usually these are gender selectable, and I have one male in mind too). On the other hand, I've seen a lot of love for manipulative characters, be it because people love red flags, or because they want to "fix them".

What do you think about it?

So focusing solely on betrayal versus manipulation, it is true that people in all niches and fandoms do tend to loathe a character who betrayed an MC versus a gaslight gatekeeper girlboss

My theory is that manipulation is seen as a lesser evil and lowkey attractive attribute to a fictional heartthrob. Although I would argue manipulation is a form of betrayal just a betrayal in progress unlike someone like nia who has committed this act before episode 1.

I think it might be because the idea of a male villain who loves you has been a popular trend in media for like 20 years. People love Snape till this day and his love for Lily. People love the popular fairy romance books where the male lead is pretty much a bastard but he’s a bastard in love

It fulfills a fantasy because in real life a man who manipulates you is an abusive pos who doesn’t love you. While in fiction he does love you and his manipulation is seen as way to say that he will do anything to keep you close

And hey, I love red flags so no judgement from me 😚

It also depends on the gravity of the betrayal and if details are known to what led to it. Cheating is the biggest and I’ve seen players never excuse that. With Nia it’s more split I think some people want to see more of why she did what she did before making an opinion and others aren’t interested

I think it ultimately comes down to: how obsessed they are with the MC? If they really are super obsessed they will be more popular and certain sins can be forgiven. It feels nice that someone as popular and loved like Imre is into someone so low on the social pole like crowny. While Nia isn’t so obsessed, she views Crowny in a down to earth way (when her fear is set aside) which is not as enticing

[6lostgirl6]

Heyo! Love your recent post on the marquis de gramont. Could you do a one shot where the reader manages to escape yandere marquis and manages to hide in another country for a few months before the marquis confronts them in a motel they were hiding in

No Escape

Pairing: Yandere!Vincent De Gramont x Fem!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Imprisonment, Mentions of Codependency, Controlling Vincent, Panic Attack, Cursing, Arguing, Forced Kissing (At first), Happy Ending. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 1.5k

It took you months to earn his trust, which he scarcely showcased to anyone. The months you pretended you were finally falling in love with him, with lovely words and tender affections that gradually lowered his guard with each passing day.

There were privileges that came with trust, which you soaked up like a sponge. He eventually permitted you to roam around the mansion without him or a bodyguard, which led to him permitting you to spend time outside within the gates. Finally, you were allowed to sleep in your room without someone monitoring your door during the night.

However, you ultimately reached a breaking point when you recognized one day that those affectionate words and acts had transformed into something more…sincere. You'd lay awake in your room, your mind racing at the prospect of succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome.

Your altered phone, gifted by Vincent, lay in pieces on the bedroom floor when you made your escape. You crept out under the beauty of the moonlight, and your efforts during the day allowed you to memorize Vincent's men's routine patrols. You wore only the clothing on your back and a little satchel containing your monthly allowance, which Vincent would give you as a reward for your good behavior. The hardest thing was climbing over the fence, but you made it out with only minor cuts. Despite the joy of finally experiencing independence, you couldn't shake the sadness in your heart. You couldn't help but think you were doing something wrong.

'It isn't love; it isn't love.' Throughout your entire voyage to Canada, you would repeat those words in your head like a broken record. When the landlord handed you the keys to your flat, you couldn't help but feel awful. When you received your new cell phone a week later, you resisted the urge to call him.

You missed him terribly and despised yourself for it.

A month has gone by, and you weren't any better off than you were a few weeks before. You did, however, have a job interview coming up in the next month, and you were pleased that you were making progress toward regaining independence. You even purchased a new cell phone for amusement purposes.

Vincent had certain expectations for you as his lover while you were imprisoned. He wanted you to be entirely reliant on him, letting him make decisions for you and requiring his permission to do everything or walk outdoors. He promised to take care of you, to make you want for nothing, and to give you the wedding of your dreams. However, beneath the surface, you became less and less of yourself.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you couldn't help but wonder if you would have been happier at ho-Vincent's mansion. Your eyes threatened to shed tears as you glanced at the screen of your phone.

Vincent's number was illuminated in the darkness of your room, casting a chilling glow across your face. The call button begged you to merely press it in order to make amends.

You tapped the button and placed the phone to your ear with a nervous exhale. As the phone continued to ring, your eyes were wide and stared into space. As you waited for him to pick up, your heart was racing in your chest, and you nervously chewed your nail.

'He'll be mad...'

The thought occurred to you, and you immediately regretted making the phone call. You were aware that Vincent had a temper, and while he never took it out on you, you weren't immune to his stern lectures when you got in trouble, or how he destroyed his possessions in front of you. Even his patience with you can waver, and you weren't planning on finding out.

When the person on the other end of the line picked up the phone, you hurriedly hung up, unable to handle the sound of his voice. You tried taking a few deep breaths, but your heart refused to stop pounding rapidly as you stared down at the phone.

Within the first five seconds, your phone rang, and you felt your heart was about to stop. When Vincent's number came across your screen again, you screamed and threw the cellphone against the wall. Your phone was scattered in pieces on the carpet, similar to the altered phone you left at the mansion. You prayed to whatever higher power that the call wasn't long enough for Vincent to track it down.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, rising from your bed and walking about your room, your hands grasping the sides of your head, attempting to stabilize yourself. "Fuck, fuck!"

You couldn't sleep that night.

You were strolling to your apartment, finally entering the elevator with a spring in your step. A month had gone by with no occurrences, and your concern was fading, with your confidence progressively taking its place.

The job interview went well, and you were hired at the local supermarket in the little town where you resided. It was extremely discreet, and you preferred it that way. Anything too extravagant would have drawn Vincent's attention, which was the last thing you needed.

When the doors reopened, you proceeded to head towards your apartment door, fishing out your keys from your satchel. Sorting through your keys, you unlocked the door and walked into the dark apartment, shutting the door behind you. You walked over to the wall, flicking on the lights.

The next thing you heard caused a chill to run down your spine.

"Did you enjoy your interview, chérie?" A familiar voice spoke, prompting you to press your back against the wall in panic.

Vincent stood in front of the window, his back to you, watching the beauty beyond the glass. His hands were in his pants pockets, and his posture was rigid.

"V-Vincent I-" You stuttered but came to a pause when Vincent turned to face you.

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his big lips formed a stiff line. He was clearly furious with you, but he tried to remain calm.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He demanded, taking a few steps closer to you. His stature was imposing, towering well over six feet tall, and you hoped he'd keep his distance.

You could only stay silent; your eyes were locked on him.

"Do you?" He asked once more, his tone becoming darker.

"I-I'm sorry, Vincent, I just-" Your mind was blank, unable to generate a suitable explanation. Your heart was attempting to burst from your chest, and your breathing was growing shaky.

How can you explain your mixed feelings to your kidnapper?

Vincent's patience was clearly wearing thin as he strode towards you, seizing your upper arms and dragging you close. He disregarded your terrified yelps as you struggled to keep your distance. However, because you were close to the wall, Vincent quickly trapped you against it. Your faces were barely a few inches apart, and you struggled to keep the warmth from flowing into your cheeks.

"How could you do something like this? I thought we were happy together and that you finally accepted our love! Why would you run away and scare me to death?!" He yelled, shaking your body somewhat as he spoke. "Do you understand what you put me through?!"

Suddenly, there was a fire that was ignited in your heart that you'd never felt before. All those months poured through you and you didn't think before you opened your mouth.

"What I put you through, what about me?! You kidnapped me and kept me inside your stupid mansion like I was some doll to do your bidding! How dare you stand there and act like you didn't hurt me first!"

Before he could reply, you continued, "But, I fucking love you! Even after everything, I still fell for you, and I hate myself for it! So, I ran! I ran away from you-"

You were cut short as Vincent yanked you into a kiss, his body crushing you against the wall. As you struggled, his arm curled around your waist, and the other gripped your hair to prevent you from pulling away.

However, the longer the kiss persisted, the less you struggled and ultimately succumbed to your predicament. He's kissed you several times before in the past, but this kiss was different. It was the first kiss where you two were finally on the same page.

You returned his kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist. He growled slightly into the kiss, drawing away slightly and planting a gentle kiss on your brow. You leaned against his chest, tears welling up in your eyes as you understood what had transpired.

Vincent brought his lips to your ear, his fingers twirling in your hair as he murmured darkly, "You will never do this again, do you hear me?"

His words sent shivers down your spine, full of ownership, and you knew your independence was gone. You softly agreed, allowing him to bring you closer to him in an embrace that was everything but sweet.

"You'll never escape me; I'll always find you." He murmured again, planting a firm kiss against your temple. "Always, chérie."

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @bookworm-with-coffee @leiasolo77 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bloodywickedvamp @daddy-issues-99 @kirishimasfiance @cynic-spirit

[mothernaturesthings]

Thy Kingdom Come Undone | Part One: “I’ve Missed You So.”

Father Charlie x Reader

synopsis: old lovers meet again, under the unprecedented spell of nighttime rainfall.

Nightfall.

An ominously lit sky with raindrops making the descent from above, many trickling onto the umbrella of a woman lingering in the marrow of it all. A rumble of thunder erupted, a sliver of lightning severing the darkness with winding white.

She sidled towards one of the modest, two-story homes, casting her head down to shield her face from the impact of rain. She hooped up the steps and approached the front door. There was a fear in her belly that bubbled to her chest, her hand open-palmed on the doorknob.

Her breathing was erratic. Clipped. She swallowed hard. As she hand-molded the shape of the doorknob—she knocked. Over and over, until her knuckles gave way to bruised flesh.

The door opened, revealing a man dressed in shirtless loungewear, standing at the threshold. Hair tousled. An eyeful of sleep. He rubbed them and reopened his eyes, recognizing the woman that instant.

“Rory?” He questioned, doing a once-over in disbelief. Her name falls off his tongue handsomely. Yearnful. Ardently, if so.

Rory merely stared at the man, lips parted, unable to speak. She could only stare, coquettish and in shock. It was quite evident that she wasn’t expecting that door to open.

“Sweetheart, it’s cold and rainy out here. Come in.” He reached out and placed a heated palm on her lower back. Her reactive body squirmed at the sudden heat, although she obliged to his request, albeit hesitantly as he ushered her into his home.

He led her to the couch, beckoning her to sit. She listened and seated herself, fidgety but seated nonetheless. He straddled the couch, muscular arms flanking her, their faces a kiss apart. Rory leaned in closer, whispered, “Father,” then breathelessly. “I’ve missed you so.” Her bottom lips brushed agonizingly slow against his. He grimaced; a breath cloistered up in his chest. 

“I’ve missed your touch," she combed her fingers through his scalp, "your skin,” a mouthful of the skin of his reddened cheek, teeth puncturing deeply. Painfully. He hissed, “And alas, your lips.” She faced him once more, lips swollen pink. He was expressionless, the brown of his eyes emoting the best he could. Needy. Hungry.

He pressed his lips onto hers, greedily becoming one muddled fusion of teeth and lips. Rory gasped, him using that vulnerability to edge his tongue into her mouth, exploring the meaty oral cavity there.

He rid himself of her mouth, an audible popping sound erupting. Remnants of her lipstick on his plump lips. They composed themselves respectively, Rory visibly upset.

“I can’t do this.” Was all that was uttered—heartbreakingly low. He clawed at his hair. 

“Can’t do what, Father?” Rory placed a hand atop his own, to which he immediately recoiled.

“Don’t call me father. I’m no longer a minister.” He face blanched now, out of frustration or embarrassment, or the latter.

“I’m sorry,” a moment of prolonged silence, “I never intended to offend you in any way.”

He doesn't exchange a similar sentiment. Rory ultimately understood and stood up on her feet.

“I understand. I’ll excuse myself.” She had begun her walk towards the front door when she abruptly felt a taut, possessive grip around her midsection. She froze.

“Make love to me.” Straightforward. Every syllable wisped the strand of hair at the nape of her neck. He pivoted her to face him. 

“Take me to bed?” It proceeded as a question more so. He decided to hoist her up by the waist, her limbs latching to his lower spine like second nature. He carefully guided them both up the staircase, Rory nibbling on the concha-shaped flesh of his ear.

He arrived at his bedroom door and pushed said door, flying open with the might of his foot. He stepped to the footboard of the bed and draped her body across it, to where her face was angled at his beltline. He cupped the underside of her jawbone, stroking his thumb over the mandible with delicate-like strokes. Rory purred like a kitten, putty to the feeling of his touch.

“Once we do this, there's no reversing it. We’ll be back at square one. Are you ready for the fallout when the time comes?” As he said that, his thumb achingly grazed the corner of Rory’s lips, begging to be sucked. At his expense, her mouth was now agape, allowing him to slide the thumb into her mouth. She closed it and began to suck, hard, the ridges of her teeth pricking the delicate skin.

She nodded. A definite understanding of what was to come.

[beidak-art]

if you are still doing the oc ask thing, could we have Koschei for question number 1 please?

I finally have time to focus and reply to a few of these, so the first one to go is obviously Kosch. Forgive me if what I'm writing doesn't make much sense, I have little skill in telling about my characters in written form OTL What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character? The reason for creating him was the need for a main, stereotypical, fairy-tale antagonist—but with a twist—for a story I abandoned a long time ago. The story didn’t survive, but Kosch remained. Why did I choose to draw inspiration from this particular figure from folklore? To be completely honest, I don’t remember; it’s likeee in my head it's shrouded in a black fog when it comes to this.

What is an aspect of their appearance that you like the most? He has undergone several modifications over the years, and his appearance had to get ripe. Now, I actually like him as a whole—the way his entire silhouette harmonizes with the details. I wanted him to look bizarre and silly, yet majestic. In other words, like a big bird. Of course, my favorite part to draw is his eyebrows—it's very satisfying.

How big is their role in the story? Do they make a frequent appearance or are they a character with little "screentime" but big influence? Or are they just a favourite background guy? In the previous story, as I mentioned, he was the main antagonist. Now, he plays the very main role in his own story—or rather, in a tangle of different stories that intertwine into a whole. You could say that, in a way, his existence has lost its meaning because, after all, an antagonist exists solely as a tool for the protagonist and to be defeated. And this very problem—being an antagonist without a protagonist—is a big deal of the current story.

What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one? One of his main arcs is his confrontation with death after being immortal for several hundred years. Another crucial aspect for him is the slow realization that something—or someone—actually matters to him. For many, many years, he convinced himself that he was the ultimate Living Life enjoyer, while in reality, he was a loser who kept running away from life—real life—for a veeeery long time.

Does the character have other characters connected to them? Do you have a family tree and "offscreen" connections made up for them or do they exist in a vacuum purely for the purpose of the story? He had a family, he had and has lovers, he has a duck, a horse, a huge herd of mice and a few rats. However, his character is largely built on a profound, self-imposed loneliness—on being above relationships. He tries so hard to be beyond connections that he literally doesn’t live among other beings in the world; instead, he flies around in his stupid flying palace, in the sky, and only occasionally does he graciously land to show off his eloquence. The relationships I’m currently focusing on the most are the ones from when he was still mortal—when it all began. His bond with his older brother is especially important to me, as well as his relationships with a few of his sisters and parents, since the whole family dynamic is quite difficult and complicated (what a surprise). I also think a lot about his connections with the people in the settlement where he grew up, his role in that society back then, and how he dealt with it all. And finally, I think a lot—an enormous amount—about his relationship with Piszczyk. From the early days when they were just acquaintances, to later when they were forced into marriage, and finally, when they meet again after many years, but in completely different circumstances. Outside of the canon story, he also has various more or less serious relationships in the AUs co-created with my Gf. As you could see, we draw him quite often in a relationship with Marlenka, and yes, I know, it's confusing but what can I do 😩If you want to know more, my Gf wrote down in a big short, what's going on: https://toyhou.se/19699360.marlenka/21732559.ghostlenka-ii

[haartemis]

MASTERLIST

one-shots

i bet we'd have really good bed chem | aurélien tchouaméni

you meet aurélien at a party, and from that moment on, you can’t stop fantasizing about your would-be bed chem

sweet tooth | rodrygo goes

who would have guessed that real madrid's beloved #11 is also a passionate amateur baker in his downtime? definitely not you.

the stars aligned, they led me to you | jude bellingham

jude's 2025 through the lens of horoscopes

big ego | kylian mbappé

kylian proves once again while his ego might be big, something else of his is even bigger

multi-chapter works

i love you, it's ruining my life | kylian mbappé *COMPLETE* -> part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, epilogue

a friends to lovers story spanning childhood in bondy, adolescence in monaco, and adulthood in paris

the alchemy | kylian mbappé *COMPLETE* -> part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

you have your worst one night stand ever with kylian, only for him to transfer to real madrid - where you also work. lovely.

cross the line | jude bellingham *COMPLETE* -> part one, part two

a chance encounter with your boyfriend’s teammate sparks an affair that leaves you feeling guilty but ultimately without regrets.

drabbles

little things | jude bellingham summer | kylian mbappé

like this post if you'd like to be added to my *kylian* taglist!

please do not copy or save my work!!

[aventurineswife]

anon who requested the IPC worker x Aventurine where reader faked their death :D

a part 2 would be cool, how you go abt it id up 2 u but if u would like any ideas…it could maybe have a flashback of their fakeout death and Aven’s reaction, and then flash to the present where he tries to leave IPC to live domestically w Reader, but they get killed for real in the process (i’m angst #1s lover) and now Aven is stuck in the IPC 😭

“At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home” | Part 2

Summary: Memories of your past with Aventurine resurface, unraveling the intense moments that led to your faked death. A flashback reveals the night you made the harrowing decision to disappear, showing how it shattered Aventurine’s world. Torn between loyalty to IPC and his love for you, Aventurine is ultimately willing to risk everything for a future together. However, when he attempts to leave the IPC, tragedy strikes, claiming your life in reality this time. Now, Aventurine must face an eternity of regret and entrapment within the very organization you both sought to escape. Bound to the IPC, haunted by memories of you, he is left yearning for a life he can never have.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, fake death reveal, intense emotions, love and loss, tragedy, betrayal, hurt/comfort, forbidden love, character death, emotional breakdown, regret, forced separation, internal conflict, bittersweet romance.

Warnings: Intense emotional themes, character death, grief, betrayal, mentions of violence, flashbacks, guilt and regret, dark themes, potential tearjerker, unresolved trauma.

A/N: AHHHH!!! 😭 THAT'S SO MEAN BUT SO GOOD TOO?! MY BABY!!! 🥺💔

(Part 1)

The memory clung to Aventurine like a shadow—one he could never shake. He could still recall every detail from that day years ago, the day he’d thought he’d lost you forever. In his mind, it was as if he were back there now, reliving the dreadful series of events that tore you from his life.

It had started with an anonymous tip. He’d been in the heart of IPC headquarters, surrounded by the opulent furnishings and hushed power plays that were his world, when he received the message. The vague words scrawled across the screen still felt burned into his mind: An unexpected death in IPC’s ranks. Don’t ask too many questions.

At first, he’d dismissed it as some cruel joke or an attempt to provoke him. But as whispers circulated, he’d felt an ache that reached far deeper than any professional ambition or loyalty to the IPC. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His fingers shook when he finally demanded details from an IPC informant. They had tried to placate him with silence, then with excuses, before finally leading him to a private room where they produced a list of names lost in action. His eyes landed on yours.

His heart had shattered. And in that moment, the world he’d so carefully built around him crumbled. The IPC, his title, every ounce of the strategic power he wielded felt like a joke, a hollow nothing in the face of your loss. Days bled into weeks, then months as he clawed through records, files, and whispers, desperate to uncover anything that could prove this had been a mistake. Eventually, after countless sleepless nights and fading hope, he resigned himself to a cruel reality: you were gone.

In the present, Aventurine had all but lost himself in your kiss, his hands cradling your face as if afraid you might disappear again. But now that he’d found you, he couldn’t imagine letting you slip away. You’d barely finished promising him you weren’t going anywhere when he whispered urgently, “Come with me. I'll leave the IPC. We can start over, together.”

The idea hung in the air, and the look on your face said you wanted it as much as he did. The life you’d built in hiding had given you some solace, but nothing compared to the warmth that had returned the moment you’d locked eyes with him again.

“I want to, Aventurine,” you murmured, your voice soft with hope but tinged with caution. “But you know, you leaving IPC isn’t going to be that simple.”

He gave a wry smile, the familiar gleam of his gambler’s spirit returning to his gaze. “Since when have I ever played it safe?”

It was settled. Together, you and Aventurine began planning a final escape from IPC, the promise of a quiet, shared life filling every unspoken moment between you.

Weeks later, the two of you were ready. Aventurine had secured falsified documents, disguises, and even an old shuttle that he’d salvaged and reprogrammed to slip through IPC scanners. His heart thrummed with excitement as he held your hand, the two of you ducking into back alleys and secret passages within IPC’s labyrinthine halls, moving closer to the shuttle bay with each step.

But just as freedom felt within reach, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Aventurine,” called a smooth, calculating voice—a voice he knew well, belonging to his superior within IPC, one of the few who could see through his every bluff. “Going somewhere?”

A team of armed operatives closed in, blocking your escape route, and Aventurine felt his stomach sink as he saw the trap closing around you both.

“What’s this?” he asked smoothly, masking his fear with a cocky grin as he positioned himself protectively in front of you. “A farewell party?”

His superior raised a brow, her gaze shifting to you before returning to him. “Leaving isn’t an option for a Stoneheart. Surely you know that.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting your eyes, silently urging you to stay close, to trust him just one last time. “Then let me make it clear,” he replied, stepping forward, his voice steady. “I’m done with IPC. And if you want me, you’ll have to get through us both.”

In the ensuing chaos, you and Aventurine fought with everything you had, desperate for one last chance at freedom. But just as you were about to reach the shuttle, a shot rang out.

You stumbled, a look of shock crossing your face as blood bloomed from your side. Aventurine’s heart seized. “No,” he whispered, catching you as you collapsed into his arms. “No, no, please… we were almost there.”

Your eyes met his, filled with a quiet acceptance he couldn’t bear. “It’s okay, Aventurine,” you murmured, your hand weakly reaching to touch his face. “I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give you the life we dreamed of.”

Tears he’d fought so long to hide spilled over as he held you, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, no, please don’t… I can’t do this without you.” But even as he clung to you, your grip grew weaker, your breaths fainter.

When your hand slipped from his cheek, Aventurine was left cradling your lifeless form, his vision blurring as grief consumed him. He’d lost you once before, but nothing had prepared him for the agony of losing you again—for real this time.

In the end, IPC dragged him back, broken and hollow, the final remnant of his old life slipping through his fingers. He returned to the office and his title as a Stoneheart, each day haunted by the love he’d sacrificed to leave the IPC, each night dreaming of a life he’d never know.

And so Aventurine remained, a prisoner of the world he’d once called his own, but now bound by grief—a gambler who’d lost his most precious wager.