#consult the orb

[sobekc]

What's your favorite season of quantum leap?

YAY an ask! I was gonna just say whichever season has more girl-Sam episodes but it’s pretty evenly split. If I went based off of those I’d have to say Season 3 for having bangers such as Miss Deep South and 8 1/2 Months, but overall I’d say Season 2 is my favorite. It’s a nice balance of high and low stakes episodes and most are investing to me. Also it has MIA!! I will say I also enjoy the weirdness of Season 1 and watching the show figure out what it wants to be.

[silliestofbilliest]

Sometimes being a girl is just forgetting

[voiddemon]

giving an old fav new legs

[orbmanson7]

Me, for the past three months: boy I feel like I'm getting a bit burned out working two jobs and barely getting any sleep, maybe I should use some PTO... Nah

Me, last month: I can probably just hold out, it'd be unfair to use my PTO with so many people at work needing time off for things like medical appointments and planned vacations

Me, this month: oh look they updated the schedule to help accommodate the new hires so that I can finally have some time off! Let's see, so they have me scheduled to work my 10-hr shifts on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday...

Huh, 60 hrs a week, okay so not Great but they were supposed to rearrange this so we didn't have anyone working alone anymore because that's dangerous (and also not in line with accreditation standards), so that's probably why I'm scheduled so much, right?

Oh no actually I work Mondays and Thursdays by myself... In fact, I'm the only one working by myself on this entire schedule. Huh

Well

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

Seen a post that said someone’s writing gives away who they are as a person and the things they’re going through and I wonder about that for myself…… there’s definitely themes in my work but I kind feel like I’m pretty neutral otherwise

[sadserpentarts]

I never draw mammals, so it's time to draw some werewolves I guess

[autistme]

well. she wasnt lying. they certainly havent played it since

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other. 

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. 

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious. 

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire. 

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really. 

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response. 

He knew. 

Astarion knew. 

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

[senualothbrok]

Here

Summary: After you save him from Orin's clutches, Gale has some things to work through. You show him that he is not alone.

Featuring a fireside chat with Astarion.

A response to this anon ask. I hope you like it 💜

Word count: 2.1k

Non-18+. Mild hurt/comfort. Gale x reader/Tav.

AO3 link

A/N: You can watch Gale's reactions to being rescued from Orin's lair here (at 12.32) and here.

Thank you so much @dekariosclan for beta reading and being my marvellous Gale consultant, as always!

****

His scream tears you from sleep. It is shrill, piercing, a desperate flinch against untold horrors. You reach out for him as he gasps, clawing at his orb scar, choking for breath.

When you touch him, he thrashes, still caught in the talons of his nightmare. You see the scars left by Orin in his cloying sweat, his shaking frame, his subsiding shouts as he crumples into you. He cannot hide them from you, much as he tries.

“It was a dream.” You press his head against your chest, twining your fingers through his tangled hair. “You’re safe. You're home.”

He does not speak for a long time. His eyelashes flutter against your skin, his heartbeat jolting through you as he searches frantically for his glade of calm. When he eventually finds it, you feel his hands come to rest on the small on your back, steadying, anchoring. You hold him, torn apart by a gratitude as strong as grief. He is here. You could have lost him, but he is here. You will never let go of him again.

He clears his throat. When he moves back to look at you, his smile does not quite meet his eyes.

“My apologies, my love. I didn't mean to wake you–”

His voice is hoarse, broken. You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologise for, Gale. Absolutely nothing.”

He looks away for a moment. You know you have a brief opening, now, before the mask comes up, before the jolly dismissals and self-deprecating quips resume their well-worn routines. You place your hand on his cheek.

“Gale, you know you can talk to me, don’t you? Everything that happened–”

He jerks his head, taking your hand in his. His skin is clammy, and there is a hollowness in his gaze, though it is still tender as rain-kissed earth.

“I'm fine, Tav. Please don't worry yourself.” A brisk smile of reassurance, warring with the dark circles under his eyes. “Of all the things on your very full plate, my welfare is not something you need to burden yourself with.”

You are about to object, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is swift and firm. When he rises from your shared bedroll, you feel bereft.

“I'm quite alright. Nothing that a bit of fresh air and a quick walk won't cure.”

He combs his fingers through his hair, squaring his shoulders. The walls are up, and he is retreating into the night. Even as you ask, you know what his answer will be.

“Should I come with you?”

He huffs, bending down to kiss your forehead. “No, please. Rest. I deprived you of a good sleep tonight, and gods knows how many nights before this. I want you to take what rest you can for our battles ahead. I won’t stray far. Don’t worry.”

You cup his face tightly, desperately. “I love you.”

This time, his eyes smile before he turns away. “I love you too.”

*****

In the distance, streaks of dawn tease at the bruises in the sky. Sleep is a triviality that eludes you. You huddle around the campfire, fretting, trying not to mark the hours that Gale has been gone. Trying not to imagine all of the nightmares which were until recently Gale’s reality.

You fail. You think of how Orin must have flayed Gale’s mind from his body as he struggled, powerless and alone. You imagine his terror, not just of torture and death, but of the orb inside him. And you wonder whether he despaired as he waited, doubting that his love would come for him, fearing that his friends had forgotten him. Convinced that he was once again abandoned to die.

‘Of all the things on your very full plate, my welfare is not something you need to burden yourself with.’

You bury your face in your hands, a chaos of panic, love and guilt. It takes you a moment to register the presence beside you.

“Gods, you look awful.”

Astarion is peering at you like he is examining a torn gown. A trickle of blood stains his collar, the triumph of a late night hunt. He wrinkles his nose as he studies you.

“Do I need to have a word with Gale about laying off on” – his hand circles vaguely – “whatever it is the two of you do at night?”

You do not have the energy to glare at him. Instead, you glance towards the edges of camp, scanning for signs of Gale’s return. When you see nothing, you sigh. Astarion arches an eyebrow.

“Do I really need to explain why Gale might not be in the mood for that?”

Astarion tilts his head. There is understanding in the pause that follows. Astarion had been the one who helped you get Gale down from Orin’s altar, after all. He had seen the turmoil in Gale’s eyes, the blood on his limbs before the healing spells. He had felt Gale’s resistance when you both laid hands on him, easing him up. The fractured moments before Gale’s usual cheery gratitude snapped into place. Astarion would have recognised the signs better than anyone.

“He’s been having nightmares,” you manage. “But he won’t talk about them. He woke up screaming tonight. Then he went for a walk. He’s been gone for two hours.”

Astarion frowns. “If you’re worried for his safety, the wizard is more than capable of blasting people to smithereens.” He purses his lips. “Assuming he’s not magically restrained, like Orin managed–”

You wince at your rising dread. Gale is an archwizard, you remind yourself, not a defenceless babe. You fight the urge to smother him in care, to protect him and keep him safe at all costs. It is not what he needs. But perhaps you do not know what he truly needs.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Astarion stares at you for a while. He leans back, brows furrowed, and you suddenly wonder if you give him enough credit. Perhaps there are things Astarion sees, despite his usual habit of deflecting things with thinly veiled insults.

“Sometimes, there are things that are better left unsaid.” He curls his lip. “Even for Gale.”

You ignore the barb, spinning towards him. “So Gale should just soldier on? Stiff upper lip, the show must go on? Even when he’s falling apart?”

“So dramatic, darling.” He tuts. “Who’s falling apart? He seems fine to me.”

You clench your hands. “The nightmares are getting worse, Astarion. Gods knows what Orin did to him.”

From the feathering of Astarion’s jaw, you know he can guess.

“And he won’t talk to me. Like he doesn’t want to be a burden. Like he’s sorry…” You scoff. “As if it’s his fault, that he’s the one who let me down.”

Astarion narrows his eyes. “If you’re suggesting that it’s your—”

“No, no,” you huff. “No, this isn’t about me. It’s about Gale.”

Astarion sighs. His gaze is weary as a scar.

“Some things are too horrific to share, darling. So atrocious that it’d be a nightmare to even hear them. He just needs to grit his teeth and get through. Survive.”

You struggle to keep the anguish from your voice. “Does he have to do that alone?”

Astarion’s mouth tightens. He averts his gaze. “Maybe that’s what he’s used to.”

You are taken aback by the resignation in Astarion’s words. Conviction rises in you, an unstoppable tide that weaves through the tents of each and every member of the family you have found.

“But he isn’t alone anymore. He doesn’t have to keep it to himself. He isn’t a burden, and there’s nothing he could do or say to drive me away. I’m here for him. We’re all here for him.”

There is a quiver in Astarion’s features. You have a sense of a door cracking open. A glimpse of something ancient and hidden.

“It takes a while,” he says quietly. “To get used to that. To believe it.”

The silence that falls over you is both heavy and light. Within it, a lifetime of loneliness and fear crashes against the battle-forged bonds of love and friendship. And you believe, with every fibre of your being, that love will endure.

Astarion jerks his head behind you. You turn, your eyes filling as they fall on what they seek.

“But if anyone can remind him,” you hear Astarion chuckle, “it’s you.”

*****

When you return to Gale’s tent, you try to settle him, but he is a flurry. His movements drag with exhaustion, yet are manic with determination.

“Is there something I can get you to help you sleep? A cup of tea? A warming spell? Do you need a–”

You embrace him. His breath catches, and you clasp him so close you can feel the points of muscle and bone. The weight of him, the miracle of him beside you. You will never take him for granted.

“Just you,” you whisper. “Here, with me.”

His lips tingle against your neck, his grasp tightening around your waist. For an eternity, neither of you let go. You are haunted by the shadow of your separation, chasing away Orin’s ghost with the strength of your need. When he dips back, his brows are steepled with concern.

“You’re troubled.” He traces his thumb across your jawline. “What troubles you?”

After all this time, he still does not understand. He cannot see how someone could love him so deeply that his pain becomes their own. He still cannot believe that someone could respond to his love by giving him their whole heart. That you could love him as he loves you. An outpouring of the soul. A sacred offering, steadfast and unending.

“That you’re troubled.” Your fingers interlace with his. “That you think your struggles are a burden to me - that I wouldn't want to share everything with you, including your suffering.”

He grimaces so sharply, it is almost a flinch.

“My love,” he heaves. “You quite literally have the weight of the world on your shoulders. It torments me to know I’ve added to that load, rather than easing it. If I weren’t such a fool to fall for Orin’s trap–”

You shake your head. The force of it stills him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Gale. What happened wasn’t your fault. And what you’re going through now…You don’t have to pretend that everything’s alright. I know it isn’t. I hear it, I see it, every day, every night.”

His eyes widen, the wrinkle between them deepening. You sense the knee-jerk apology that bubbles within him. Your grasp his hand tighter, the words tumbling from you like the sea surging against the shore.

“I love you. I’m here for you. I’ll never abandon you, no matter what happens. You can tell me anything. Everything. Whatever you want. And you can trust me, just like I trust you. Just like I know you love me, and will always be there for me.”

For a while, he does not speak. His gaze roams your face, searching for signs of doubt, hesitation, disapproval. But all you can give him is love.

You draw him back, sinking down to your bed roll. He softens as you curl into each other, his arm wrapping around your body. Your head nestles between his neck and shoulder, and you breathe in the sour tang of his sweat. He inhales deeply, nuzzling into your hair. Memorising you, just as you are soaking him in.

“You kept me alive, you know,” he whispers. “When Orin toyed with me, tore at me. The thought of you, your courage, your kindness. Your love. She could never break me, no matter what vile cruelties she inflicted. I had you.”

Your tears trail into the nook of his collarbone. His voice trembles.

“My foolishness, my carelessness… it could have got you killed. And when you saved me – when, yet again, you saved me from the precipice – I resolved to do better. I told myself the least I could do was cause as little hassle as possible.”

You lurch forward, your vision a blur as you take his face in your hands.

“Gale,” you breathe. “I love you more than anyone and anything. You are not, and will never be, a hassle. A burden. Never. You're the man I love, and you're everything to me.”

His eyes are bright as he brushes away your tears. You watch the shadows lift from his features as the truth of your heart washes over him, wave by wave. Slowly, reverently, he presses a kiss to each of your palms, holding them against his cheeks.

“What have I done to deserve you?”

There is awe in his voice. Wonder. And shimmering within it, the beginnings of acceptance.

You lean forward, circling the tip of his nose with your own. He lets out a shaky breath, his hands weaving around your back, pulling you closer.

“You don't need to do anything. Just be here, with me.”

You smile into each others’ lips, two rivers joining in the sea.

“I can do that.”

********

A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to know what you think as always, so don't be a stranger 🫶

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

[zhivaoverdrive]

Saline Thief, 3

At this moment, all Amy wished was that the nurse would speak quietly. But alas.

"Now, I know it says scheduled fill here, but it's been a while since we've seen you!" chirped the nurse Laura, as the two women walked from the waiting room.

"I've just been b-" Amy began.

"XL expander implants, 8000cc capacity! Wow" said Laura, her tone hovering between playful and concerning.

"So much room to grow, but maybe we can max you out today!" she continued.

"This is absurd" thought Amy to herself.

"Here I am, struggling to keep walking pace, my tits pumped so huge they're pulling me off balance with every step.

I don't own any bras, I can't even find a place to custom make me one.

This nurse KNOWS what I've done, why is she teasing me this way? Should I just admit it-"

Entering the room, Laura motioned for her to sit.

"Okie dokie! shirt off. Let's see what we can do today huh!" said the nurse gleefully.

Moment of truth, perhaps time to rip the bandaid off?

Surely the charade would end once her monstrously expanded breasts were exposed.

Noone can look at what I've done to myself... and let me go further. 

These spheres I'm attached to, their tortured vein covered skin, areolas stretched as wide as a palm.

Amy had been trying to adjust as quickly as she could, but the damage from her night missions was... incalculably.  Unmanageable.

She still didn't have an accurate count, but her '8k expanders' must have been closer to 30,000cc than they were 8. "Sweetie, if you don't mind me saying..." began Laura

Here it comes. I've been such an idiot. Why did I get so ahead of myself...

I should have stayed home, ghosted this place. What did I expect to happen

"You're looking GREAT for only 4500cc! 

I know you've got your heart set on hitting your implant capacity today, but..."

UGH. I don't remember saying that. This is all her idea, she's baiting me.

Wants me to admit what I've done. To save myself.

I can't take any more filling! She knows it!

"Well. Let's not get ahead of ourselves... I can't recommend overfilling you too much, the weight could start to really affect your life you know!" said Laura, as she gently caressed Amy's orbs, either testing their elasticity or appreciating her grossly stretched skin, riddled with veins and stretch marks.

"Doubling your size today with a teeny overfill would really be pushing the limit... you're such a slight girl after all!"

The nurse causally connected the filling apparatus as she spoke, consulting the small electronic control unit in her hand every now and then, when she wasn't touching Amy's hopelessly inflated breasts, that is.

“Try to hold still Amy! You’re wiggling all over the place. Can’t you stand up still for just a moment?” chastised Laura, as her patient struggled to manage the immense burdens in her chest.

Even seated, Amy struggled to stay upright without moving, she was already exhausted…

“I’ve hurt my back-” Amy tried to explain, to no avail.

Nurse Laura grinned. It wasn’t malicious, but it wasn’t friendly.

“You’ll have to look after your back sweetie, they’re not going to get any lighter!

"Rest on the desk, let's get lefty up to capacity, then see how we're looking, shall we? I'll be back to check on you soon!"

[lirational]

Xeno Witch

Fantasy AU Path to Nowhere

Witch!000 x Reader

A/N: Zero, Zero, you can call her Zero, white hair, cat ears, hiding in your wifi~ :D no beta we die like my soul

Warnings: Porn with a fumbled plot, dubious consent, general yandere shenanigans.

—

The orbs spun around the three-layered ring in mesmerizing, unchanging patterns, the small object heavy in your palm. Its pink glow gave a speck of light in this dark tower, where not even the light followed the rules of physics. Instead, it comverged around one figure, the lights itself moving like it was trying to dispel the darkness her presence provides.

No, it would be more accurate to say that the lights looked like as if they were commanded to highlight her presence instead of this tower’s structure.

“Well?” The witch asked, her tone playful. “All you need to do is swallow. Just a little ‘gulp!’, and you get what you want. Easy, right?”

Flagrant anticipation and mischief twinkle in her mismatched eyes, the tiny, almost weightless rings representing a contract. You were always told to be a good person, to live a good life and stay away from the darkness of the world, yet here you are now, facing one of the very things the world has told you to stay away from.

But, the light has rejected you, and now, you were desperate, angry, vengeful. Your heart a maelstorm that threatens to consume any sense of self-preservation.

Though hesitation colored some of your senses in a foreboding red tint, what you could feel coursing through your body was anticipation.

It was a chance, after all, to get what you want.

“What is your price, witch? What do you demand of me in return?”

You tried to load your voice with conviction. After all, such was expected in the bizarre book you had consulted for the ritual to call her, yet, your voice shook, the feeling of sheer power infused in the very air itself serving as a warning that made you falter.

“Insolent voyager! Are thee making light of the everlasting covenant?”

Seeing you flinch, the witch’s tone softened, glee replacing her pretend anger.

“Come on now, I was just teasing you, are you always this easy to tease? You’re just like a little fawn!” She whistled. “Witch is a little distant, how about you call me Zero? Come on, say it, ze~ ro!”

“O-okay, Zero.”

Well, any attempt to load your voice with authority as the book said has completely failed now.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, swallow it!” Zero floated around you, moving fast enough to breath warm air onto your ears, causing them to heat up. “Do you prefer something more verbose? Ah, ahem, don’t you loath the fate you were forced to tread and feel vengeful to upend the world?”

Her arms snaked on your chest and stomach.

“Then make an everlasting covenant with me...”

With the promise of change, you brought the rings past your lips, her whispers a temptation full of sin.

“… and alter your own fate.”

Power, along with something else, foreign and invasive, spread and took root in the essence of your very being, a breaching presence that could be felt down from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. You couldn’t help but squirm, the oddity of it all too overwhelming to truly comprehend—

Then it stopped, leaving you feeling bereft and cheated.

The nagging sense of missing something important, missing a comprehension that lies beyond a thick veil, remained for quite a while.

“Our covenant has been sealed! With that, let’s return back to your world~“

Only upon looking back did you realize that Zero did not answer the most important question.

—

The incessant beep of an alarm clock spurred you back to the waking world.

Sunlight had started to slip through the blinds, a silent confirmation that, indeed, night has given way to another day. Even though your body felt leaden, frozen in time, cursed to not feel anything resembling restfulness, you shook the fatigue the best you could and forced yourself to roll to the side, then, as your vision started to focus—

“Hey!”

The all-too familiar voice that plagued your dreams greeted you. As your vision snapped into focus, your eyes met the red-yellow ones of the witch who haunted your sleeping hours.

“Zero?!”

“Aw, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” she pouted. “Now that you accepted the contract, I’ll be sticking with you until I get your wishes!”

“Please don’t, I can’t afford to lose this job!” You reply, almost automatically, too panicked for your liking.

Zero didn’t seem to register your refusal. Rather, she seemed even more amused, her lips curling into a smile. “Oh come on, I want to see things! I want to eat snacks, watch the stars, read the new comic books. I won’t drag you down, I promise!”

She took your hand, pale fingers interlocking with yours in such a slow, tender gesture. Her thumb found your ring finger and brushed the base, coaxing a small ring with one loop to appear. The ring glowed in the same pink as the one you saw in your dreams, light particles revolving around it in a slow dance, merging and shifting and chasing each other. If there were any doubts of the encounter being nothing but a dream, the tender gesture would have dispelled it completely.

“After all, you, the one bound by our everlasting covenant, are the only one who can see me.”

Zero released your hand in a slow motion, fingers brushing onto yours for a few seconds too long, before her attention went to something else.

Oh, right, you have work to do.

Ignoring the ever-curious Zero, you bolted away to make yourself presentable, while the witch eyed your things with interest. She was especially interested at your snack stash, something about the sight of a powerful, wish-granting being from another world being so enamoured about something so ordinary bringing a chuckle to you.

Such was the start of your life with the witch from another dimension, yet, the mundanity only made the dark of your life all that much more stark.

For, as even the fools would have guessed. the first wish Zero granted you was one of revenge.

It was something you had long tucked back in your mind, placed inside a box labelled ‘repression’, taped up, and stored deep where no one should be able to reach, placed under myriad layers of irrelevant memories and kept out of reach from the light of your conscious thoughts. At least until the dam burst as you were forced to face the memory again. Looking back, it was almost childish, something about how a minor feud between competing businesses that spiralled into insanity that claimed the lives of people you knew, until you were forced to grovel as those you formerly considered friendly rivals showed their true colors.

For all these years, you endured the harsh, unfair treatment from them, forced to endure endless additional work until you snapped under the weight of unresolved anger and spite.

More than everything else, though, it was a careless wish, made as one of those former friends attempted to drag you away to parts unknown against your will.

“I wish all of you were fucking dead.”

At that moment, you spotted her black dress at the periphery of your sight, and then, she was in front of you. Even the world had stopped moving, bathed in a blue, criss-crossing grid lines except for the two of you. Depsite the outrageous nature of the request, Zero seemed unperturbed. Rather, she regarded you with a curious look.

“So, these were the ones who made you call for me. Boring people, if you ask me.”

You raise your eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

“Let’s see… these people were going to live unremarkable, mundane lives, and that shouldn’t be too hard…”

Realization hit you then, the fog of anger parting to give way for you to remember the witch’s sheer power.

“Zero, wait, this isn’t a good—“

She seemed to not perceive your presence, rather, she was focused on tinkering with something in front of her. Panels full of thousands of ever-scrolling lines, each with symbols more complicated than the last, enough to make your head pound from within when you stare for too long. Around her, cards wrapped in light of multiple colors rotate and wrap around each other in a mesmerizing display, a sight that Zero seemed to be unaware of - or perhaps, she did not deem it worth paying any mind.

“Done!”

With a flourish, she turned around to look at you, the panels disappearing as the lights shot away in multiple directions before dispersing. As time started to march once again, the person that was harassing you were contorted into painful, impossible shapes, expression frozen in horror without being able to speak as his own body started to break down, turning into—

You didn’t want to look, but out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a dark, yawning void where he was standing not even moments ago, swallowing every trace of him.

“Finished! They’re dead, well, it’s more like they don’t exist,” Zero winked at you. However, it registered as terrifying more than anything else. “Can we get something? I saw that shop selling ice cream so thick that don’t don’t melt even under the sun! Can we try?”

“But—“

“Come on, don’t focus on such boring things! I granted your wish,” she pouted. “This really reminds me of that comic I’ve seen once… Someone made a contract with an evil demon, and in the last part I saw, the villain actually made a cult…”

In contrast to your horrified expression, Zero didn’t seem to mind what she just did, and just rambled on. Just like a cat, Zero marches on her own beat, and your last attempt of protesting were shushed with a pale, slender finger on your lips. Her finger were cold, freezing your lips into silence and compliance, and there, the realization truly slammed itself onto your psyche.

This was a contract where you left the cost section blank, free for the witch to fill as she pleases.

From her smile as she took your hand and walked out of your workplace, it was easy to assume that she, indeed, were aware since the beginning.

That day, the ice cream Zero made you buy alongside her tasted overly sweet.

Perhaps a reminder of the impossible, costly saccharine deal you were sucked into, or proof that Zero was trying to anchor her presence even on one of your most basic senses.

—

The second wish Zero granted you were one without forethought.

With you, she has learned a lot, from simple pop-culture, to the minutiae of life, at least something that cannot be gleaned from being an observer. Though she seemed to like the sound of her own voice, she seemed to adore yours more, at least equal to her obsession with trying new foods if her demands after assisting you were anything to go by. When she asked you for something spicy for a challenge she saw on the internet, her expression twisted into something that must be seen to be believed.

In that moment, you forgot that you were dealing with a powerful witch from another dimension, and not a clueless friend whom you were stuck with.

Your conscious mind, your logical thoughts, all realized that letting your guard down near her would be a mistake, one that you may have to pay dearly for, yet even with constant reminders, it was difficult to stand guarded against her. She was eccentric, even the small kindnesses she did for your sake, such as preparing some food in the morning before you wake and in the evening, or even cleaning up the house with a thought, it was all colored in her character.

From how she made a pancake that started out completely sweet and end up savory with a swallow, to how she turned the apartment walls into edible candy for two days.

(You try not to think of the price you will have to pay when it is time to tally the costs.)

She became a constant presence, and sometimes, when she was away to do her own thing, a sentimental part of you missed her. She was fond of touching you, her cold digits lingering a few seconds too long, the sensation of her touches remaining fresh in your memory for a few hours even after she left.

No one remembered the family you killed. In this altered, unnatural reality, there was no feud that turned deadly, all traces of the ones you bore hatred and swore vengeance to falling into the void and replaced with you. Their wealth, their position, it all fell into the palm of your hand with such a simple command.

Though the question remained. What is the cost of having such a powerful being at your disposal?

A question that were always deflected by a smile and a freezing finger on your lips, scattering your thoughts away until she has long left into another tangent you could not hope to interrupt.

Your reminiscing were interrupted with a familiar rhythmic knocks on your door, proven to be nothing more than a formality not a few moments later, as Zero— the witch walked in from a torn void in reality, one that was definitely not there a few seconds ago.

“(Name)~” Zero called out, her voice sing-song and relaxed. “Heey~ Voyager~ Darling~ the audience is getting bored of you spacing out!”

As panic spurred you to stand up, Zero still looked relaxed, mismatched eyes staring upwards, her gaze directed to a distance so far, far away you could not fathom what she was getting at.

Wait, that wasn’t important. Was there someone here?

“Relax, the gods can’t hurt you! Well, they don’t get to do that as long as I’m here,” Zero flicked your forehead, your expression changing from panic to bewilderment. “C’mon, I heard someone is selling limited version ice cream made from black licorice! I want some!”

“Later, Zero, I’m not really feeling it,” you closed your eyes, your tone conveying exhaustion. “How about you go by yourself?”

“Nope! Come on, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Zero remained unperturbed, taking your hand and pulling your arm. The sight would have been rather adorable, were your relationship were anything but based off a transaction with an unknown price.

“You already know everything there is to see around here, Zero. You can go by yourself. Sometimes, I wish you know how much you can be a pain—“

You clamped your mouth. Shit. Though you attempted to backtrack, you saw the witch’s expression has already soured, an uncharacteristic scowl highlighting her darkened gaze shadowed by her hair. In that moment, the room seemed to chill into a freezing stillness, even the lights around starting to fade until there was only you and her in the room.

“Zero, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“I see,” Zero only responded, her tone stabbing and cold. “If that is what you desire, my voyager, there is nothing I could do.”

Your tongue felt ice-cold, lips frozen into a frown, unable to make a single sound. Meanwhile, your body refused to obey your commands, and you could only watch as Zero took her hand on yours, fingers hovering on the ring finger where the mark of the contract was, brushing the base of the finger with a movement so tender that still managed to chill you down to the farthest nerves. She lifted your hand and made you watch, watch as another loop started to appear above the first one, each passing moment of the new loop growing brighter feeding the pit of dread that has long formed within your stomach.

“Though, you might want to remember that I will collect what I’m owed, and you should watch your tongue from here on out.”

She placed down the hand bearing the mark of your contract and lifted her other hand, brushing her thumb past your lips, and then, the freezing cold of your tongue was replaced with a searing heat, drowning, breaking, overwriting every other sensation with an unrelenting sensation akin to thousands of heated needles piercing all conceivable surface. It hurts, it hurts, and you swore you tasted iron, without the warm feeling of blood that would accompany it—

Then, it stopped. Zero was no longer there, and everything was fine. You ran to the closest mirror, and a quick check revealed that everything was fine. It was such a tempting lure to think that everything was fine.

Only for the illusion to shatter as the image of a stylized clock face branded your tongue, bearing the myriad colors you’ve come to associate with Zero’s presence.

However, no matter how much you called for her, there was no answer.

—

It was on the cusp of true relief, just when you let yourself truly return to normalcy, that Zero granted your third wish.

You cannot miss what you never had, at least this way, there was no deluding yourself that there was something more behind the transactional nature of your connection. With time, with space, and without Zero shadowing you with her constant presence, it was easier to look at everything with a more objective angle. For the first few days, weeks, you watched your back and surroundings with the paranoia of a fugitive, even tried to make a wish, all without any effects, without her answering your call.

The human mind was not made to handle a nigh constant sense of danger, and with time, you allowed yourself to truly relax. The ring was still there whenever you focused on your ring finger, while the clock that branded your tongue has faded without leaving any traces.

Though you knew what she was capable of, a part of you longed to dismiss the sight that day as nothing but a mere figment of your imagination, an eerily vivid hallucination that had you hearing the sound of ticking for the first few days whenever you so much as closed your eyes.

Even that has disappeared with time, leaving only your not-so infaillible memory of the event.

With what you got from the contract, you have moved far away to restart your life, to a place less crowded, with less modern facilities, just enough to live without too much discomfort. With time, you allowed yourself to feel again, to heal, to dismiss everything from the fateful day piece by piece.

Maybe, the rings would drag you down to be tortured by her for all eternity, just like in one of those stories written by the superstitious.

Months would pass by, before you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around someone. There was someone who offered you help when you were finding your footing here, and they had remained a constant presence, owing to the close distance of your living places and the ease they talk to you with. A wonderful friend that you fantasized, no, hoped one day would become something more.

It was juvenile, a crush on the level of a child who had just learned what romantic love was, but there should be no harm to entertain such a little fantasy in the comfort and privacy of your thoughts.

“I wish they would give their heart to me.”

When the air started to hang heavy with thick, inky darkness, panic gripped your lungs.

Too late. Right when you felt her presence, your body had escaped your control, a doll with enough strength to stand, yet helpless to resist while Zero held your hand. Her pale hand took the hand bearing your contract mark, the other resting on your shoulder, putting you into a kneeling position with a firm yet gentle touch. Her eyes twinkle with amusement and glee, and the undercurrent of something more, something sickeningly sweet and sinister.

“Finally, I almost tried to make bets with the gods on how long until you end up with me again.”

The hand on your shoulder moved to your face, cupping your cheek while her thumb grazed your lips. With her command, you opened your mouth, revealing that the dreadful seal placed upon it has changed, the clock hands had moved ever closer to the middle of the day - or perhaps night, if the dark all around the owner of the mark could be taken as a hint.

“They were waiting for this moment, after all.”

Zero didn’t seem angry - rather, her voice was gentle and soothing. Perhaps it was your eyes, your pleading gaze, your struggle to move, but she seemed to read your intentions.

“Of course, there is no need for regrets, my voyager. After all, this ending has been written ever since we made the contract, even if there are some snags around the way~“

You try to plead, to reason, but what was there to say? It was pointless, she would grant the wish you so thoughtlessly spoke of, and from the looks of her expression, you would come to regret every second of what you were given. It only took a second for her to stop tinkering with whatever it was she altered to grant what you desired, yet to you, it took an eternity, locked to watch as she nudged the first domino that would seal your fate.

“Enjoy your wish, dear voyager~”

Just like before, she disappeared right after. Leaving no chances to ask questions, no chances to plead and regret.

You look at your reflection in the mirror.

The hour hand of the clock branded to your tongue was one hour away from midnight.

—

It took the span of a few weeks to discover what she meant.

Since that day, something deep within you were screaming, pleading, even at times forcing you to flee, turning into nightmarish scenarios that haunted your dreams and plagued your waking hours. A primal fear, unknown whether it was from you or from the manipulations of the witch, made you all too aware, of how the smiles from your friend start to veer into a devouring, smothering affection, until this affection you once so treasured and desired turned into a suffocating leash.

Paranoia crept upon your life once more, as you start to lock doors behind you, start to sense what may not be present in moving shadows, start to see and feel and suffocate with each passing moment of this too-long, drawn out punishment. Even in your downtime, nothing went truly right, for you had to keep your guard up.

At least, it was the most apt description, for you were chained in the most nightmarish instant just before the other shoe dropped.

No matter the pleas you shouted to the void, the witch only smiled, as if your suffering was nothing so dangerous. Even as everything started to crumble around you, from odd incidents of things breaking, chunks of buildings almost crushing you into a nasty pile of meat, vehicles veering just a little too close for comfort, reducing you to hope for a mild scare at the comfort of home.

Until the metaphorical shoe finally dropped.

It dropped in such a bitter show of cruelty, too, as it was the first night you could sleep a little better since the wish tumbled from your lips as a herald to the descent of your life into disaster once more.

There was the sound of breaking, and with no fanfare, as you felt the touch of cold metal on your bare skin, everything stilled, colors fading into muted greys all over. From a strange, geometric void, Zero stepped out, the edges of her movements causing chunks of reality itself to crumble into multicolored fragments and disperse away as ashen dust.

“Hello again, voyager,” she smiled, warm and inviting, despite the circumstances. “Have you forgotten? It is time for me to collect.”

You looked around and saw that the cold metal was a knife, belonging to the special friend that was both your savior and your nightmare within a span of time too dizzying, too quick to truly reconcile with yourself. They have been frozen mid-stab, crazed smile locked on their visage.

“After all, don’t you ask for their heart? You are one demanding voyager.”

It would not take a genius to figure out her intention. But you talk back, anyway. Out of futile hope, or out of curiosity that needed confirmation.

“Not like this. You warped their love.”

“Our sacred bond would not allow such a trickery, dear voyager,” Zero answered, voice sing-song as she glances at the person frozen in place just before they struck the killing blow. “As you wished, I gave you their whole heart. Never did I say that I would give them yours.”

Zero grasped your fingers, letting you watch as the third ring appeared above the second, shining with the color you’ve come to associate with the weight of dread pooling deep within. Deep down, you knew, it was the final seal that signified your end. Your limbs felt heavy, but this time, you were not frozen, rather, everything felt heavy beyond compare, as if you were pinned down and prevented to move.

Darkness started to open up beneath you, square by square, reality first crumbling into multicolored cubes before dispersing into ashen dust leading you to your destined abyss.

“Don’t you know that when you alter your fate and others, the world will eventually take notice?”

Zero didn’t seem concerned, rather, she watched as the void beneath you grew larger. “A human who wishes to alter fate will also alter the fate of others, and it’s a matter of time until the world itself—“

She cups your face, her hold tender. In this proximity, there was only you and her, as you drown into her gaze.

“—declares you an error.”

She captured your lips, and together, the two of you fell into the void.

You were drowning, lungs and mind filled with information a human shouldn’t be able to grasp, yet, when you reach out to touch and focus on one, everything eluded your grasp the way floating particles would elude a drop of soap. An eternity, a moment, passing as you attempt to focus and anchor yourself to something, only for everything to slip between your fingers as Zero tightened her hold on you.

“Mine, my voyager, finally mine to cherish,” she stared at you as she guided you to a gentle descent, your peripheral vision registering the familiar walls of the tower you once visited in your dreams. You were only given enough time to take a breath, before her lips took yours again, her tongue tangling upon yours as she tasted you. She tasted of strawberry, of sweet treats and refreshing cold, and she only allowed you release when your breath were truly, completely stolen, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before Zero licked it with a swipe of her tongue. Her manipulations suspended you in the air, your form propped by her powers, soft to your skin yet with the appearance of hardened light.

“Finally mine to take, another error born from fates too far altered. Don’t you know? Many desired your downfall, too, as they took vicarious pleasure from your situation.”

Your clothes disintegrated into nothing, disappearing the same way the gaps in reality did. “Don’t you hear them? They await your arrival here with anticipation. Give yourself to me, give me your heart, for the gods have declared you their favored, and now, you have nothing left.”

Her kisses trail down, bruises marking where her lips touch, her teeth grazing your skin. Though the tower shook, the coldness of the outside void rattling the walls, you felt nothing but rising warmth, radiating from your belly and spreading until it reached the tips of your fingers, your skin responding to Zero’s touches and gentle kisses. Her hold on your waist was possessive, her knee gently pressing between your legs until heat pooled and dripped onto her immaculate dress. She didn’t seem to mind, as her kisses reached your chest, sucking one more mark before her attention went to your lips once more.

Two of her fingers pressed down on your lips, past your teeth, her gaze a silent order.

There was nothing more to lose, nothing more to hold on. Some details of your life has been shrouded in thick smoke, the tightening of your chest a punishment should you try to reach beyond.

With that, you obeyed, wrapping your lips and tongue around her cold fingers.

From the approving quirk of her lips, it was clear that Zero, too, was aware of your predicament.

You sucked, wetting the two fingers, the intensifying, occassional press on her knee to your core becoming your encouragement. It was not enough, never enough, and the fire of desire within your belly only abated for a moment, just enough for you to chase the promise of release, only for you to he left bereft unless you continued. Only when the cold of her fingers were replaced with warmth did she pull her fingers out, one hand keeping your thighs parted despite how the odd, binding lights had already kept you in the best position.

Just when you were starting to think that she would leave you bereft and suspended like this, Zero pushed her fingers in. Even with the slick, you felt full, so full, thighs quivering in an attempt to close itself, to stave a little off the addicting, poisoning pleasure that Zero was feeding deep into the ravenous fire of your thirst. Her movements were experimental, but not inefficient, observing with glee as she found your weak spot and curled her fingers to press on it, drawing a pleased mewl that painted your cheeks in a rosy crimson and burned your ears.

“You can take it, don’t you? They made you strong, they made you able to withstand, for they would, too.” She whispered with a groan, the facade of her dignified witch crumbling long ago. Her hair has curtained your body, not even allowing your peripheral vision to lack her presence, her fingers driving you up to the precipice of release just before she relaxed her movements. “Come on, say my name, I’ll reward you~”

For the second time this day, you obey, and your vision exploded in stars of pleasure as her name fell from your lips in an endless repetition, the witch licking her lips at the sight of you coming undone. She did not release her grip, her gaze shifted somewhere, to something you could not reach, without relenting her hold on you.

“Are you all still not satisfied?”

Her smile turned predatory, a promise of pain and something else.

“Then, follow your desire, call for me, and perhaps, you too, could arrive in this place without the need of a proxy.”

Zero’s attention shifted back to her prey, entangled and basking in each other’s presence and passion.

Until time itself lost all meaning.

[cocoacat323]

Scum Villian Fic Recs

So, I've been reading fanfiction for a long ass time, longer than I've been on Tumblr and have always loved fic recs, and now I realize I can make my own(yay!), so here it is. None of these are explicit or anything, but they are super good.

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into The Bamboo House Summary:

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate. Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years…

A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

Unveiling The Imposter Summary:

While tracking a suspicious fortune-teller, Shen Qingqiu falls unconscious. The fortune-teller extracts a glowing orb from his body, telling Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge that this Shen Qingqiu is an imposter, and they can see for themselves if they don't believe it.

Alternatively, the Demon Lord and Peak Lords watch Scum-Villain's Self-Saving System.

Characters Watch the Series fanfic. Post-Canon.

High Mountain, How I Long Summary: Shen Qingqiu, after enduring his trial, is placed into Luo Binghe’s custody at Huan Hua Palace.

meta madness Summary: Looking at SVSSS through the eyes of the universe left behind when Airplane and Cucumber died. (Note: Not a fic, but a series, but every fic in it is so good so definitely check it out.)

it's only shameless if you had any shame to loose in the first place Summary: They have not told anyone about their marriage, and at Shen Qingqiu's request, they will only do so once the wedding preparations are done. No one will have time to nag!

But in the meantime, Luo Binghe, demonic lord or not, is only an alpha. He must do something to show off his claim or he'll go insane, he really will. He'll qi deviate terribly, see if he won't.

Fortunately, as thin-faced as he is, his Shizun does not care much for proper dynamic etiquette...

love's worth running to Summary: “Shizun,” he purred, darkly calm despite the anger oozing out of his mock-respectful smile. Luo Binghe's grip on Xiu Ya's blade tightened, and he realised with belated horror that his blood was running down the sword and dripping by Shen Qingqiu's feet. His sword had to be held at an upwards angle now, to reach the place where he pierced him back then.

Shen Qingqiu felt sick. There was something wrong in this dream.

“I ask you again. Do you regret it, Shizun?”

//

Shen Qingqiu can't answer whether he regrets betraying him. Luo Binghe wants his Shizun to understand how he suffered, and drags Shen Qingqiu into his dreamscape of the Endless Abyss that night.

The only problem: Shen Qingqiu isn't waking up.

We Are Not Wise Summary:

When Shen Qingqiu drew Shen Yuan’s soul sword, it felt like being burned from the inside out. The fire wasn’t cruel, but it was still fire—hot and destructive, searing the softest pieces of him.

When Binghe’s fingers touch the hilt, he is ready for pain.

Transmigrated into a version of Proud Immortal Demon Way where cultivators manifest their own souls into spiritual weapons, Shen Yuan finds himself sort of kind of…accidentally blackmailing Shen Qingqiu into taking him on as a disciple before Luo Binghe joins the sect.

That should give Shen Yuan plenty of opportunities to make sure nothing goes wrong for his favorite protagonist, right? RIGHT!?

A story of twists, turns, hope, despair, and soul swords. Written for the Bingqiu Reverse Minibang 2023, illustrated and conceptualized by the incredible Suzu!

The Cultivating Force Summary: In which a Master and a Padawan run into a Shizun and a... Sith?

and judgement is just like a cup that we share Summary: The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?”

"Proud Immortal Demon... Protection Squad?" Summary:

[ REWRITTEN 2023 ]

in which shen qingqiu, the nation's scum villain, doesn't perish from a qi deviation and instead, after dying tragically in his pathetic, sickly, 20 year-old body because he ate some definitely rotten yogurt he mistook for cream cheese like the absolute knob that he is, shen yuan wakes up to find himself in the body of a child, in the middle of a forest, and with absolutely no clue what world this shitty system had dropped him into. he decides to just go with the flow, one step at a time.

what could possibly go wrong?

(the answer is: everything)

(Shen Yuan Might Die Often but His) Old Habits Die Hard Summary: When Luo Binghe asks about his spiritual veins in the Holy Mausoleum, Shen Yuan's chest feels so funny that a lifetime of being chronically ill and reassuring his loved ones that, actually, he's fine kicks in. It is fine, really, because every problem in Airplane-bro's world can be solved by something that's penciled regularly into Shen Yuan's schedule at least eight times a week now.

Except the cure for Without a Cure doesn't work, and Shen Yuan's unlucky enough that Airplane-bro's plot device for winning over a tsundere via 'walking a mile in each others' bodies' hits him before he can figure out an alternative to telling Binghe that actually his five years of rebuilding Shen Qingqiu's spiritual veins diligently failed to cure him.

Luo Binghe is, of course, less than impressed to discover through personal experience what Shen Yuan, with his pain scale so skewed by years of chronic pain, never did during all his time poisoned: that, actually, having spiritual energy forming blockages and blood stagnating in your body hurts like hell.

Anyway, that's all that I've got for now. I hope that if you do take my recs you enjoy them, and remember to read all of the tags. Have fun reading!

[mysticworks]

I believe in you ~ Lewis Hamilton

Lewis turns up at your workplace...9 years later. You both realise your feelings are unchanged.

Preview ~

Lewis leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk and resting his head on his palm. 

His face had matured; still young and youthful, yet somehow he exerted confidence, charisma, surety. 

Your eyes met and neither broke contact first, his big brown orbs staring straight into your own.

"I could get lost in your eyes. For hours on end."

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: mystery, angst, sparks flying, fluff

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

Sau Paulo Grand Prix - 2021:

The silence in the room was deafening. Air thick and heavy, weighing down upon you mercilessly. Lewis sat across from you at your office desk, his eyes glaring intently on your FIA Legal Consultant name plaque. If he stared any longer, it seemed the glass would burn up in flames from such a stare. 

Lewis’ legal representative sat beside him, shoulders high and squared as if preparing to fight with you. His appearance was demeaning, shirt buttoned right to the top, his thick neck, plump, red and threatening to burst. Tom Priestley wore a grubby smile on his face - sinister and cold. 

So much for cooperation. 

You resisted the urge to sink into the ground and call it a day. 

Clearing your throat you drew in a long, slow breath.

Stay calm. Stay level-headed. Stay powerful.

“Once again Mr Hamilton, I ask for your cooperation, that’ll make this meeting much easier for both of us.” 

Since the moment he’d stepped into your office, Lewis had not looked you in the eye once. His head remained lowered, his gaze finding new objects to focus on. Not that you were surprised. It was your first meeting since that had happened.

He hadn't said a single word either, Priestley interjecting for him wherever possible.

 “We see no reason to cooperate with you. In any case, my client, Mr Hamilton, is the victim here.”

If you had a baseball bat handy, Priestley's head would be your first target. 

You shot him a glare and you could’ve sworn he jumped a little, before clearing his throat. When Priestley opened his mouth again, his tone was rushed, voice slightly squeaky. 

“As we’ve mentioned before, the Mercedes car was always built within regulation. To even dare to insinuate otherwise is an absolute farce of a-”

You cut his pitiful rambling off, keeping your tone stern. Your eyes remained trained on Lewis, seeking some kind of response. 

“I have no intention to indict Mr Hamilton, or the team. I am here to clear Mr Hamilton from untruthful claims.” You let your words fall powerfully. 

You saw Lewis shift his gaze to you for a fleeting moment, looking away as soon as your eyes made contact. He turned to Priestley. “It’s alright Tom.” You’d never expected his voice to be so… lacking in energy. It was quiet. Uncertain. 

You saw the pitiful lawyer’s face fall. He looked shocked, destroyed almost, at being asked to leave, but he rummaged his things together and took off from your office, muttering words of distaste that you didn’t bother deciphering. 

Tapping the intercom button on your desk phone you reached for your secretary, “Show Mr Priestley the envelope we prepared for him. I’m sure he’ll opt to wait in the car after seeing the contents.”

It was Lewis’ response that made you shoot your head back in his direction. The first time he’d spoken. Unlike what you’d expected there was no malice in his voice. No long lasting hatred.

“Did you just threaten my lawyer?” 

Amusement. A suppressed chuckle lay beneath his words and a flood of relief passed through you. 

“Well technically I made a fair deal.” You shrugged your shoulders upwards, allowing a small smile to rest on your face.

9 years on and his presence was still the same; warm. The awkward air had shifted - all from his one sentence. The effect Lewis had, was powerful.

The driver’s shoulders visibly relaxed, he raised an eyebrow, “Is that what you’re going to do with me? Make a deal?”

You shook your head, turning away from your laptop screen to look straight at the driver.

“No. I’m going to get to the bottom of this investigation. I’m on your side Mr Hamilton.”

Lewis leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk and resting his head on his palm. 

He seemed so much closer, so much more in reach. You subconsciously found yourself tilting your head forward, taking a better look at how much he’d changed. 

His face had matured; still young and youthful, yet somehow he exerted confidence, charisma, surety. 

Your eyes met and neither broke contact first, his big brown orbs staring straight into your own.

I could get lost in your eyes. For hours on end.

They were so welcoming. So friendly. In that moment, you realised just how much you’d missed Lewis. 

9 years ago, both rookies in your respected positions. He’d just joined Mercedes and you’d been assigned as his press manager. At his side for every interview, every press conference, every media event; behind the camera where only he could see you.

Before the accusations came thundering down.

You pushed the thought away, blinking and breaking contact with Lewis’ eyes.

Clearing your throat you focused back onto your screen, “I just need you to answer a few questions for me, then you’re free to go.”

“Hmm?” He was unfocused, his gaze still piercing into you, and you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Mr Hamilton. The case.”

“Oh right, yeah, fire away.” He looked like he’d just woken up, off guard.

You gave a curt nod of your head, before taking on the task at hand. 

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

30 minutes in and you’d finished a full official statement from Lewis’ perspective on his rear wing meeting FIA standards.

“So, do you think we’ll be penalised?”

Lewis had been lit with a different passion in that crucial half hour, eager to prove himself innocent of breaching race guidelines. 

You scanned your documents before looking up to Lewis. His eyes were wide open, eager. Desperate. “I can race right?”

“I can't control the outcome Mr Hamilton.” His face fell, eyes dulling immediately. This really meant the world to him.

“But I promise you, you will be in that race. I will do everything in my power to get you in the Brazilian GP.” 

He looked slightly more hopeful, yet sceptical, the doubt dancing across his mind. 

“You sure?” His voice seemed to have dropped. 

“You will be in that race, or I will quit this job.”

Your statement exuded a deep chuckle from Lewis, the corners of his eyes creasing as he grinned wide. “As dramatic as ever.” 

That earned him an eyeroll. Just like it used to be.

The diffused tension was calming, making you reminiscent of old days. The ones you now so eagerly missed. “If I get on that podium, dinner is on me.”

You raised your eyebrows, letting your lips curl into a smirk. “You get first place and I’ll consider the offer.”

Lewis’ eyes shone playfully, his head nodding as he considered your response. 

“Damn you really do know how to make these deals.” 

There was laughter filling your office - hearty and playful. You still couldn’t believe how much he’d grown into a fine gentleman, from his appearance to his aura. Everything was different yet the same. It made goosebumps rise on your skin, your heart thumping faster than ever.

“Shake on it?”

You offered your arm across the table, and Lewis reached out, taking it. But he didn’t shake your hand, he held onto it, his thumb stroking the back of your palm ever so slightly.

His hand was so big and warm - callused yet gentle. You found yourself trapped in his gaze again, enticed by those chocolate eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your stomach go wild. 

His voice was low when he spoke. Raspy, on the edge of a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You knew what he was referring to. All those years ago…

…the accusations that Lewis had the power to question. The hatred you’d felt from the glaring eyes of all the Mercedes team. The disappointment in Toto’s eyes. The shame. You’d gotten orders to resign hours later - forced to walk away and never look back.  

“I never believed what was said. Not for one second, but I never spoke up.” There was a deeper pain in his voice; remorse.

It all made sense now. He’d been consumed by guilt. He never kept in touch because he blamed himself, burned himself with regret. 

Yet it made all the difference to you to learn that he never believed any of itl for a second. Somehow, him knowing it wasn’t true made you forgive him. 

You found yourself smiling in reply.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today without what happened.”

“I like who you are now.”

The sentence hit you much harder than you thought it would, palpitations running through your heart. There was a throb in your brain, your hands clammy with sweat. 

Lewis seemed surprised at his own sentence, recovering quickly with a sheepish grin. He scratched the back of his head, “I’ve never seen Tom more frightened.” 

You snorted at his comment, the tension falling again, and Lewis released your hand, picking up his coat before turning towards the door.

You let him leave, the both of you saying nothing else but departing with small smiles of understanding.

Each footstep of his, echoed loud in your ears - ringing. 

He was leaving.  

You felt a sudden urge to go after him. To say something more. There was a burn in your heart, pulling you to your feet and you rushed out onto the corridor, heels clicking against the marble. 

You caught him at the elevator, and your eyes locked once more. “Lewis,”

Your voice was breathy, a low, soft whisper.

His mouth opened. You’d called him Lewis, not Mr Hamilton - electric shocks went flying through his limbs, his hands tingling. He beamed a wide, toothy grin.

“I believe in you Lewis. I believe you can win.” His eyes lit up with a fire you'd never seen before.

The elevator door slammed shut. And you were left in the corridor, standing alone. 

The 9 year old burden had been lifted.

—---------------------------------------------------------

That Friday:

6pm and you were calling it a day. The sun was approaching its farewell, its golden rays painting the city skyline a beautiful yellow.

As you wrapped up in the office your phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.  

P1 it is.

Deal is on. Be ready in an hour.

You beamed with joy. I knew you could do it Lewis.

[tsukishimakeiswife]

You just spent the dirtiest night of your life with Geto Suguru.

a/n- this song reminded me of him<3 you could play it throughout the post if you'd like.

------

One chance. That's what you told yourself and Geto before agreeing to go on a date with him. Everything about him was so alluring. You knew once you crossed a certain line with him, there would be no going back. Not with him. In the 3 years you worked with Geto Suguru, not once did you resist catching a glance at him. How could you not? When he looked at you as if you were his only source of life. He was perfect and amazing at everything he did. That's also why you loathed him. Anything you did, he would do it better, that too with such ease.

Hating him wasn't easy, either. Your seniors would want you to consult him if there was any issue. Got a problem with your paycheck? Ask Geto. Want a sick leave? Ask Geto. And wouldn't he enjoy it when you came to him, seeking help? His signature smirk plastered across his face every time you stood outside his office. He was so infuriating, yet so attractive.

One day, he finally pushed you over the edge. A sales pitch you worked on for weeks was scraped just because Geto had a better idea. 'Of course, they should just let him run the company, huh?' You made the not-so-graceful decision of walking out of the meeting and going back to your office. You got your stuff, clearly done for the day, and left the building soon after. Trying to haul the cab in horrendous city traffic only frustrated you further. That was until someone put their hand on your shoulder, almost making you jump.

There he stood, looking egregiously hot. He stood in front of you with his shoulder-length hair in a half bun and a shirt that hugged him just right. He fixed his tie before speaking up after what felt like an eternity of eye contact.

"I didn't mean for that to happen- look, (y/n). I know you hate me right now, but let me make it up to you."

And that's how you ended up here. Sitting in front of him so prettily, adorned in your most breathtaking dress and high heels- to look somewhat tall next to his large build. You made sure to look your best, and the way his eyes scanned your body made your efforts worth them. The glass of wine in your hand, long forgotten as you leaned back and heard him speak. The tension between you two was wild. The air was heavy and thick. The ambiance of the restaurant didn't help much, either. You were sure he picked such a place on purpose.

However, that wasn't the craziest part about tonight. It was the fact that you were enjoying this so much. His eyes never left yours, alternating between your lips and orbs while you spoke. He leaned in to 'hear' you better and 'accidentally' brushed his knees against yours. Tonight, there was something different in him. It was as if nothing was stopping him. Hunger was apparent in his eyes. He was determined to get what he wanted.

You saw through his game. You weren't dumb, and he knew it. He wanted you to make the first move. Moreover, with every second passing, it seemed more difficult not to do that.

"Easier said than done, love. You ne-", he stopped talking immediately. He had something better to focus on now. Your freshly manicured nails were currently placed on his thigh. If his winning this silly game meant what you thought it did, then you'd take it any day. You were attracted to Geto, more than anything at the moment. His eyes darkened and in the blink of an eye, his entire aura shifted. You felt smaller, and you didn't think that was possible with Geto. He called the waiter for the cheque almost as if in a hurry.

The two of you got up and he immediately took your hand in his, taking you towards the elevator, maybe. You didn't care. Not when Geto has you in such a state. And he hasn't even touched you yet.

The two of you enter the elevator, finally alone. He didn't react, though. All you wanted to do was kiss him, taste him, feel him. His calm composure, on the contrary, was far from your flustered state. He looked down to meet your gaze as you did the same, bodies facing each other, but not reacting.

The lift doors opened and he immediately walked out. You tried to keep up with him, but he was practically dragging you now. You entered the suite he'd booked for you and the man in front of you didn't even wait for the door to close before pinning you against it. He leaned down to make sure he was just above you, his hair falling out of place onto yours. You tucked the strands of his hair behind his ears before pulling him down to kiss him.

You could physically feel the smile on his face when you did, and he didn't spare you for a second. His hands immediately reached for your throat and the other one pressed your lower back to bring you closer to him. The kiss was electric, hot, passionate, and desperate. Geto Suguru kissed hard. He gently led you towards the bedroom- not breaking the kiss for a second. You felt ecstatic, his hand on your throat applying the slightest amount of pressure- the kiss which was so hot you felt dizzy already. Breaking apart to catch your breath; you looked into his eyes, his pupils were completely blown out; his hair was a mess now; he was so pretty.

He pushed you onto the bed and you were now lying on your back. Geto caged you in before kissing your jaw, your neck- biting and leaving marks with utmost grace. He kissed you on that spot behind your ears, to which you sharply exhaled. He smirked against your skin and whispered in your ears, "I haven't even done anything yet, and look how you're reacting." you rolled your eyes and scoffed before whining at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your soft skin. Your hands were on his neck, playing with his hair and occasionally tugging on them. It drove him crazy.

He gave you a genuine look as his hands landed on the hem of your dress, making sure you were still okay with this- to which you nodded. He slipped your dress off and tossed it aside, taking in what was in front of him. It was as if he was consuming you completely, his gaze was dark- it sucked you in, trapped you inside. You tugged on his hand for him to hurry. He kissed you again and you unbuttoned his shirt. You knew he had an amazing body, but it was nothing like you'd imagined. There really was not a single thing in him that you could complain about.

He kissed down your chest, taking off your bra and stopping right at your stomach. He looked straight into your eyes and said, "What do you want me to do, love?" your breath hitched and you hesitated. You felt more needy than ever, Geto knew that. But he had to show you he had power over you, didn't he?

"Geto, please. I need you," you said- whispered. He raised his eyebrow to indicate that he'll have to hear you again. "You'll have to be louder- and more specific." he retorted.

"I want you to fuck me, there?" you almost spat out. Only getting more and more frustrated. You sneaked in a 'please, Geto' to make sure he didn't get pissed. All he did was simply nod while taking off your lace panties. He didn't hesitate for a second before shoving two of his long, rough fingers into your cunt. A loud whine left your lips and your hands immediately covered your mouth, trying their best to muffle your moans- screams. His fingers were long. You meant that. He stretched you out and immediately began pumping in and out. He tutted and shook his head- almost as if he was disappointed.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Covering your pretty mouth won't help. And, it's Suguru for you." at this point, anything this man said only made you wetter. He found your g-spot effortlessly, abusing it as he added a third finger. "Fuck- Suguru, too much." your back arched and your breath hitched with every thrust. He could tell you were getting close. "Too much? This isn't enough, my love." his thumb was now on your clit, toying with it as if it wasn't making you whimper and moan out his name. His free hand caressed your face, tucking your hair behind your ear and locking fingers with yours.

You were close, lewd sounds echoed through the suite and his harsh, degrading comments only got you riled up more. "gonna cum- shit. hah- Suguru, more." He chuckled before picking up his pace. "Come on, come for me." pushing you over the edge. You screamed out his name and held onto his hand as your orgasm washed over you. It was ecstatic. Your body spasmed and you tried to catch your breath. Your orgasm barely passed by before you hear his trousers drop to the floor.

"Don't think we're done, love. I meant what I said. We're just getting started." he took off his boxers revealing what he'd been hiding the entire time. This man was big. And you meant that. A wave of shock and excitement passed your body as you gasped at the sight before you.

"Get on your knees for me." you nod and shuffle around till your knees and elbows are on the mattress, your ass is up and your hair brought to one side of your face. His hand trails along your spine kneads your ass before giving it a harsh slap.

“I’m gonna go slow at first, tell me when you’re comfortable, hm?” he says as he coats his cock with your slick. He aligns himself and slowly enters your hole. A sharp exhale left your mouth as you groaned and threw your head back. He was way bigger than you expected, you bit your lip to drift your attention away from the sting you felt. He leaned forward so that his chest was on your back now and he sank his teeth into your neck while entering you slowly. You whimpered and tears pooled in your eyes, carrying your mascara with them as they ran across your cheek. He kissed your tears away and whispered how ‘you’re such a good girl’ and you’re ‘so obedient for him’

After what felt like an eternity, he completely bottomed out and the pain slowly faded away- transforming into the most pleasure you’ve ever had. You gave him a quick nod which was his signal. He turned immediately. His pace increased and he went faster- harder. Your face was now smushed against the pillow while you screamed in pleasure. His hand rubbed against your overstimulated clit- only making you cry out more as you begged him to slow down, to go easy on you. His hips snapped against yours picking up his pace despite your cries.

You could feel your next orgasm nearing, feeling embarrassed over how much tighter your cunt got with every thrust, a groan left his lips and he grabbed a fistful of your hair to lift you up to his level, your back pressed against his strong chest.

“You’re gonna be a good slut for me and take it, yeah? I see the way you’d look at me everyday. Fucking me with your eyes in front of everyone. Now take it like a good girl.” you cried out his name and tried to grab his hand that was currently abusing your clit. Your choked cries and unsuccessful attempts at getting him to slow down did nothing but boost his ego more. He let go of your hair letting you fall back onto the pillow and grabbed your face, turning it to the side, “You’re not gonna look away, okay?” he said.

You bit your lip and nodded at him as you grabbed the bedsheets, seeking support from the silk sheet underneath the two of you. He thought you looked beautiful, your pouty lips were swollen and glistened with your own saliva on them, your cheeks stained with mascara and your eyes, half lidded and pooled with tears. You looked ethereal.

With a final thrust you came around him, crying out choked moans and whines as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt like you couldn’t think anymore. Geto thrusted into you throughout your orgasm and gently lifted you up while he fucked into you, you gasped as you still clinged onto him. This man was strong- he lifted you off the ground while fucking into you as if it was no big deal.

By the time you rode out your high, you realized you were pressed against the glass window of your suite. The cold glass made you hiss as you looked down at the busy street. Humiliation took over you as you looked at Geto with a confused face. You were tired, that's for sure. A mess. That was an accurate word to describe your state right now. Geto pulled out of your abused hole and you whined at the empty feeling, still breathing heavily from your last orgasm. He turned you around to face him.

"You alright there?" he tilted his face to the side and leaned down to lock lips with yours. He was soft, kind, and caring. At the same time time; he was rough, mean, and sadistic. He had you wrapped around his finger. You whispered his name out when he slowly entered you again. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his back. He hissed at your actions and groaned your name out. Your name left his lips as if it was his favourite word.

His pace increased and you clung onto him with every bit of strength left in you. Your mind felt foggy and you didn't know what took over you, you spoke up. "Suguru, let me ride you. Please." it was a weak whisper. He wouldn't have been able to hear you if it wasn't for how close the two of you were. He slowed down and carried you to the bed, placing you down before getting on. He made himself comfortable against the bedframe and tapped on his thigh, "There's nothing I would love more, love."

You weren't so sure if that was a mistake or not.

"Tired already? You've barely moved."

"So gorgeous, all f'me."

"Look at you, my cock-drunk princess."

"Want me to lend a hand?" he smirked. He had the 'genius' idea of tying your hands behind your back before you got on top of him. You definitely made a mistake with your suggestion. Your head was on his shoulder now. Your thighs felt like they were on fire. Every single movement made you cry out. He didn't help you out, either. His large cock only adding to your mix of pleasure and pain. He enjoyed this more than anything. Your struggle to take him and maintain balance riled him up even more. You groaned at his words and nodded into his shoulder.

"What was that? You're gonna have to tell me." you can't believe you almost forgot why you hated him so much. He grabbed your face by the neck and brought you to face him, inches apart. You bit your lip to muffle out your moans and rolled your eyes. He looked at you, waiting for you to speak. "Help me, Suguru." "Please," you added, before he spoke up, causing him to smile.

"Whatever you say, love," he whispered in your ear before gripping your hips and bucking his hips upwards. You gasped at the sudden movement and lost balance, falling back onto his shoulder as you cried out his name. He was close, and so were you. Your whines and moans of his name made him feel like his body was on fire. You had no idea how obsessed he was with you. And there you were, in front of him, breaking down because of him.

"Fuck, (y/n). You're driving me crazy." he pulled you up and looked at you, and you didn't dare to look away from him. No, if you did, you were sure he would ruin you. His words threw you over the edge as you tightened around him and came. He hissed at you and shot his seed into you. He held onto you as you clawed at his chest- riding out your high.

The two of you stayed in the same position for who knows how long. "I thought this was supposed to be an apology dinner." you panted out.

"Would you rather have that?"

"...no."

You let out a tired giggle before looking up to meet his eyes, smiling and pulling him into a simple, pure, passionate kiss.

"I still dislike you, though,"

“I wouldn’t pass a judgment so soon. After all, I’m not done with you yet.” he said, while his hands moved down your body.

———

part two??

[zeroth-writes]

Care To Hold My Hand? -Zhongli-

masterlist | request

Pairing: Zhongli / Reader

Summary: You and Zhongli explore Lyuie Harbor amidst a crowd of people

Word Count: 687

A/N: this is my first time writing for genshin and writing as zhongli was so stressful, i hope you guys enjoy this.

When Zhongli first approached you with the idea of walking around Lyuie Harbor together, you had mixed emotions on the matter.

On one hand you were excited to finally hear his expert knowledge first hand with visual references instead of just mentally picturing the scenery like you normally do. Going to the locations he spends a majority of time with him instead of sitting on the couch while he relates his day to you.

Yet on the other hand just the idea of being around so many people at once made your stomach churn. The constant state of hustle and bustle in the city was something you still weren't use to. Spending a majority of your youth within the small community of Qingce Village hasn't prepared you for life in a busy city.

"Are you sure this is suitable for you?" Zhongli's gloved hand intertwined within yours as his golden eyes examined the crowd. Since Zhongli had a fairly short workload for the day, you both decided this would be the perfect opportunity.

At the beginning of the day, excitement filled your body. You could visualize sitting at Heyu tea house, sitting next to Zhongli as Liu Su continued on with one of his many stories.

Yet as the hours passed and the time grew closer and closer the joy left leaving anxiety in its wake.

Walking out of the funeral parlor. Eyes glaring down as you follow the taller mans strides. You begin to clearly hear Xingxi speaking with a potential customer. Hearing her reminds you that you should place the order for the tea set you wish to gift Zhongli.

The consultant stop his pace. You follow suit and move to stand beside him. Beginning to ask why, you stop once the sight comes into view.

Everywhere you looked was people.

Restaurant doors opening and closing as people enter and leave. Tiantian talking to different people as she attempted to get recruits. Member of the Millelith questioning civilians.

Not to mention all the ones doing their regular activities - shopping, commuting and just heading home.

The first thought that cones to your mind. Retreat. Your mind goes into a panic as your feet slowly shift backwards - until you feel a hand softly wrap itself around your forearm.

You glance upward to see a pair of golden orbs staring down at you with a concerned look. "Are the people getting to you?"

Without speaking a word, you simply nod in response before moving to stand behind the former Archon.

A deep chuckle filled your ears as, for a split second, a small sense of relaxation fills you.

"Maybe there is something i can do to help you with this situation."

His gloved index finger scratched his chin, as if to think of something, before joining his other finger as they were laid out with his palm facing towards the sky.

"Perhaps if you were to hold my hand. The physical contact might help ease the stress and anxiety."

A warming smile graces your face. Once your fingers were interlaced within his yours, you glared back at the crowd.

The older man took the lead and carefully walked you seamlessly throughout the horde of people. You focused on the hand within yours, the cool familiar feeling.

Before you could process it, You were already standing in front of the staircase. Zhongli pulled you to the side before speaking "I'm glad my idea worked. You seemed to handle yourself a lot better this time."

A shy smile rose to your face at the compliment. Before you would reply, a break opened within the ever growing line of people. You and Zhongli quick slip within the gap and make your way up to the tea house.

As the set comes into view, you notice the lack of the story teller but a few tables begin to empty.

You decide to sit down near the back but still with a lovely view of the stage. After ordering your tea, as you sit back and wait for the show to begin, you lean over and whisper "Maybe next time I can lead"

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Raiden x Reader x Fujin: Brothers Share (Lime)

Context: Storm bros both are a bit 'frustrated', and they came up with a very lovely solution

Warning: Nothing explicit, but it's implied you get sandwiched ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The atmosphere gifted such serenity. It was perfect for one to sit through and meditate.

It was always Raiden's go-to hobby whenever he had somewhat spared time in his hands, and he always enjoyed it whenever he could. Although he is a demigod, an immortal being, he knew good things don't last.

Yet, recently, he's been feeling off. It doesn't feel something so dire he needs to consult with the Elder Gods, but whatever it was, it's bothering, let alone, confusing him.

The Thunder God will try to brush off the feeling in body, but it'll always come back. Maybe stronger than prior. And it's agitating since he only knew meditation, which doesn't help.

Standing from his spot, he groans indignantly, rubbing at his temples.

"Trouble with meditation, too, brother?" Raiden slightly flinches and turns to see Fujin. He must've not heard his brethren enter the room.

"It seems so. No matter my attempts, my mind will not be clear. Worse, I do not know what is causing it." Raiden walks around, trying to think before stopping by the window and peering down.

His glow up orbs observe his familiar two students sparring with each other. Turning to the right more, was you seated in the distance, catching up on your studies while occasionally glancing up at your two dorky friends fighting.

For whatever reason, Raiden was less interested in watching the progress with the two boys but kept focus on you. It wasn't like you were doing anything special, but his gaze just never leaves...

"She's stunning, isn't she?" Fujin walks to his side and observes as well.

Raiden only lets out a monotone grunt, which Fujin knew he agreed with him.

"I've been having the same feeling you have. A certain frustration that not even meditation can sooth." Fujin began, walking off from the window. "I may have an idea on how to deal with it, but you are not likely to accept it."

Raiden looked at his brother with a snarky look, finally ridding his gaze upon your figure. "Speak your mind brother, I have no patience for half-hearted, indirect suggestions at a time like this."

Fujin only chuckles at his brother's short fuse, nonchalantly leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. "Well, we both clearly have eyes for dear Y/n, am I correct?"

The expression on Raiden's face relaxed, intrigued on what Fujin may propose. "Are you perhaps about to suggest we collectively pursue her?"

The wind god smiles and nods. "We could persuade her to assist us both on our... salacious feelings before it gets worse."

Looking down, letting the cynical hat cover his glowing orbs, Raiden ponders. This was rather something sinful, but he cannot deny, he is a man. And he knew that Fujin wouldn't judge, considering he's completely relaxed and the one even to propose such a preposterous thing.

"What happens if she finds the request disturbing and says no?"

"If she doesn't want to then we can figure something else out, but Y/n is a cooperative one." Fujin answers, seemingly confident.

Sighing, Raiden takes the younger god's word for it. "I'll accept the proposition."

---Time skip! Dont forget to drink water!---

You ruffled your messy hair, being rather tired after a day of being active. Yet, you were to stop by the Sky Temple again at night.

Walking in quietly, you seeked out both protectors of Earthrealm and did your usual bow as they spot and approach you.

"Greetings, Y/n." Raiden says, returning the courteous bow. "You do not have to be formal with us. You're our friend." Fujin tells you with a warm smile.

"Oh- my bad, it's a habit." You say a bit flustered. "What is it you need from me at this time? Is it about Liu Kang?" I looked confusingly between the gods.

"No, we just..." Raiden didn't know how to start off. "Do you mind if we all go somewhere rather exclusive?"

You were confused since the Sky Temple was rather empty already, but you nodded anyways. And in a split second, the three of you appeared in a rather comfy looking bedroom with a flash.

It must've been Raiden's since all the decoration and furniture look ancient and untouched, considering he doesn't really take time off.

As you were distracted taking in the sudden surrounding, Raiden places his hands behind and back and sighs before explaining. "My brother and I spoke of an issue we both seem to have, and we request if you are willing to help us."

You looked at Raiden and then Fujin in the back. They both seemed relax as if maybe it was something not too urgent. It made you curious.

"Okay, what is it?"

"A certain craving," Raiden takes a glance at Fujin, whom nods, encouraging him to speak more on it.

"A need that we both share. We both desire the physical companionship of a woman. And we would like for you to join us in satisfying that, ah, particular desire since we know you well."

The cat seem to have ceased your tongue as you didn't know how to respond, rather your mind has clouded with thoughts, mostly questions. You looked from Raiden to Fujin. Both of them, eh?

Fujin raises an eyebrow, amused by your expression of shock and uncertainty. "Oh, don't worry, dear Y/n. We won't hurt you. We are simply asking for your consent, and your willingness to indulge us."

"So you guys are really asking me to sleep with you? BOTH of you?" You just had to make sure you were getting this right.

"It may sound absurd for a mortal woman to sleep with not one, but two gods, but we are still men." Raiden states.

"And something similar has happened before." Fujin hints with smugness.

"Fujin." Raiden gives him a warning look before turning back to your shorter being. "Do you have any objections?"

This was rather a one chance in a lifetime deal, and both brothers are such fine specimens. You trusted them well enough.

"Both of you?" You repeated once more with a smirk that was pure admiration.

Fujin walks behind you, first gently grabbing your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you, clearly the more eager brother.

"Brothers share, Y/n." He whispers in your ear, his white bang tickling your face.

Raiden steps more forward, his shadow looming over the both of you. "And we share 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨."

That line alone was enough to cause goosebumps. You gasp quietly feeling soft lips on your neck.

"She's so pretty." Fujin moans out a comment, holding you more and kissing your skin.

Your attention was grabbed back by Raiden as he lifts up your chin, having you look up at his authoritative eyes. "Are you ready to serve like a good mortal?"

You gulped, feeling two things poking you, behind and front.

"Yes, my lord..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ahem... not saying there will be a part 2, but uhhhh, I'm definitely gonna be thinking on it...

God, what my own writing does to me

(Someone on Tumblr ask smth in my inbox, I'm hella bored and lack human interaction)