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more-than-a-princess · 7 hours ago

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"Nothing makes sense anymore," Sonia lamented as she stood still, letting Cecily finish tying the lacing in the back of her gown. For simple clothes, it had taken some time, thanks to the wool stockings, additional layers of quilted petticoats, and the dagger whose holster she'd strapped to her right thigh. With the thicker fabric and various layers, plus having to sit in a carriage for several days, it was likely no one would notice unless Sonia truly needed to use it. "Nothing. Not since the Witch Cult attacked Novoselic for the first time. Magic was always this abstract thing, confined to the Kingdom of Lugunica. My yearning to travel aside, I thought everyone was content in Novoselic, a life within our borders and without the use of magic. It just seems to attract the Sin Archbishops, like moths to a flame."

"That's a change of tune for you," Cecily smirked as she tied the laces in an elegant bow before waiting for Sonia to sit in order to fix her hair. "Don't tell me you've gone off your preferred gothic novels?"

"That's different," Sonia retorted, flinching as her lady's maid began to comb and style her long hair into a tight braid. "Those have haunted manors and castles, brooding heroes tormented by a dark past that they have no choice to be constantly reminded of until the heroine peels away their melancholy with a gentle kindness and understanding. There's always a happy ending, even if the road to get there is a particularly rocky one. And the deaths they must endure are often necessary in order for them to be made stronger, together: what's happening here is pure genocide by people drunk on magic power."

"All the better that we're leaving the capital, then," Cecily replied, her smirk at her princess's preferred reading materials fading. "If you're the one the Witch Cult means to target. I'm just glad my instincts in which books to pack for you were correct: I'm not sure how I'd change it at this point, if you didn't want your gothic novels to keep you company at the Chalet."

Sonia smiled as Cecily finished: she'd woven a deep blue ribbon into Sonia's braid before coiling it elegantly at the back of her head, securing it with several pins to keep it tidy until the carriages reached their destination. "There will not be much to do there, I'm afraid, barring the books and games you have packed, or whatever else my mother feels is an appropriate channel for my attention. I doubt skiing and skating will be allowed-"

"But those are in the last carriage," Cecily finished for her as Sonia stood, both women smiling as Sonia admired her maid's work, on her hair and the quickly-arranged plans to send her to the mountains.

"Thank you. I could not have done it without you," Sonia told her warmly before reaching for the vanity table, and the thin, long item that rested upon it.

"You are most welcome, but Your Highness, are you sure that's needed? I'd think one dagger would be enough."

"You know how reluctant I am to leave my protection entirely in someone else's hands," Sonia replied simply as she adjusted the smaller blade down the center of her bodice, resting between her corset and her gown. "If I stab myself, it's a more honorable way to die than by the hands of the Witch Cult."

"But by no means less tragic. Are you sure you will be fine riding alone with, er, Lady Adelheid?" Cecily asked, managing to find the right words with some hesitation.

"The knight, regardless of name or gender, is dedicated to the singular task of my welfare," Sonia insisted, reaching for the midnight blue cloak laying on her bed, trimmed in silver scroll embroidery. "I am only seen as a princess and nothing more. As it is supposed to be."

"Of course," Cecily demurred, helping Sonia fasten the pearl-encrusted clasp as Sonia reached for the last item to be packed: a crossbow and a quiver of arrows. It would ride in the carriage beside her. "But if you need me, I shall only be a few carriages behind with the most valuable items."

* * *

"You know, I was thinking about what you told me last night, though I haven't had the opportunity to say anything after this morning's debacle," Sonia began roughly an hour into their journey. That was as long as she could keep quiet and peek out the window carefully through the velvet curtains of the carriage. It would be impolite to take out a book even in the presence of a knight, and it was far too early to unwrap the loaf of bread and the cheese, cured meats, apples, and bars of chocolate (already tested for poison). "I wonder if the reasons why your kingdom is not fond of you and why other knights loathe you is not simply because they worry you have the potential to turn on them on a whim, but because you do not feel relatable to them."

Something she too was familiar with, but likely not to Lady Adelheid's severity. The other woman sat opposite her: there wasn't enough room on Sonia's side, not with the valise, the basket of food, and the crossbow beside her. "You have so many blessings: perhaps they feel they pale in comparison. Personally, I have found it easier to befriend others when they see reason to knock me off the pedestal they have placed me upon: when I fail at something unimportant or innocuous, for example, I remind others I am simply human, just like them. It helps to ease fear and resentment. Have you ever tried something similar, Lady Adelheid?"

To be honest, Sonia wasn't even sure she was capable of such a feat. Probably tied in with the deep responsibility of being the Sword Saint, having seemingly taken it over from her grandmother. A topic too heavy to breach in a carriage when they had so many hours ahead of them and nowhere to escape the atmosphere should it turn awkward. Still, she would share more about herself if asked, and with no one else to talk to, Sonia would certainly take her up on it. She wasn't a last resort by far, but there was no one else to handle the brunt of Princess Sonia's boundless curiosity.

"You have friends, do you not? Considering you have told me that your family is rather small. What do they say on the matter? I find friends can be a great help in easing tensions like this," She offered, her weight shifting in the seat: the carriage was now beginning to ascend some sort of hill. They couldn't possibly be in the mountains yet. "I imagine you must be acquainted at least with the potential rulers of Lugunica, considering your knighthood. Surely they may have some influence on the people on how you should be perceived and treated: sometimes it just takes the right person to endorse you and everyone else falls into line. If your family will not support you, then you must make your own family with people who do."

For over four hundred years it was the way of the world. There was little to be done other than to stand up and fight for it, centuries ago it was the dragons that rained terror onto the world, and then the first sword saint came and changed everything, he defeated the dragons and culled there numbers down, until the witches started to try and end the world and he had to stop them as well, four hundred years ago, they lost half the world to darkness, death and chaos, devoured by shadows, and one would have hoped things would have been better, but alas, in the place of dragons and witches, a new evil would rise, the witch cult and the sins, coming into the world and filling the spots left behind by the great terrors slain.

“Those are good things to hold onto, to support your friends, your family and your people, is what makes you a good person and a strong person as well. You have a gentle aura around you, as expected of a princess with noble blood.” As he bowed his head to her. “The gospels, tell them the past, the present and the future. To get one is almost impossible, they will die to protect them, and destroy them if anyone tries to get one from them, even if we did have one, they are dangerous, tainted, darkness follows them, the risks to even hold one are great, to open and read what is within, is far too dangerous, the temptation, to try and use them for good, will only destroy the person who uses them.” As he offers his warning, even he would not tempt to track one down, it is said, the leader of the witch cult, someone above the sins, gives them to them, he figured, it was most likely a witch.

Very few people within the world, can stand before a witch, and hope to survive.

As he remained still and watched her as she drank the drink, she would feel better in time, along with him being with her, she would be back to herself, the perks and benefits he gets, As Sabura called them ‘buffs’ can effect those around him, who are around him for long periods of time, he can heal himself, regenerate and go through hell and back, and continue to go, he told her before, he had so many blessings, if he where to list them, they would be here for sometime speaking about them, but nearly all of them are active, even as he stands here, he was almost, going to unlock more, depending on the situation. “You will feel better.” He nodded. “Despite rumours, the title of sword saint, can go to anyone in the world, it just happens to have remained in my family since the start.” As he let his smile spread. “My family is not as large as others, but there are a few of us, all of us knights, most of them, people don’t even know, expect for my grandfather and father, great knights and warriors, with titles and a great many victories to there names each.” As he explained to her, he did not wish to give her the history of the title of the sword saint.

How bloody, how dangerous, and how much suffering comes with the burden of the world.

“I don’t have any neighbours and my family has been separated through, issues on my part.” As he told her a little. About himself. “Many years ago, my grandmother was the sword saint, and the great whale, moved closer to the kingdom and she went to fight it and put an end to it. I was five at the time, and the world needs a sword saint, something happened and the world picked me to be the sword saint, taking the title and power from my grandmother and given it to me.” As his eyes glanced down. “I killed my grandmother, a burden I have to carry.” There can only be one sword saint, only ever one, if a sword saint dies before another is crowned, the title and power is lost, the world will be lacking a hero and it will crumble and fall into darkness, the world picked him, because he asked for it, but he didn’t know his grandmother was fighting such a great enemy, a foolish dream and request, destroyed his father, his grandfather, and ruined everything in his family, because he became the sword saint, at the cost of his grandmothers life.

“I will of course, tell you all you wish to know.” As he nodded, about his family then, about his friends, a short conversation indeed, as he had very little. His kingdom loathed him, the council hated him, the knights wanted nothing to do with him, he was so powerful, they feared him, they thought him a calamity all on his own, that he surpassed all other sword saints, that he would fall to darkness and not listen to commands, but that was never going to happen.

“We can of course learn more about one another, and hopefully, become friends.” As he smiled and turned, a bow as he left her to rest, as he would leave and make preparations to travel light, to take only what was needed and to ensure that only they would leave, and no one would be the wiser.

That night had retired to his room. He had to focus, to push away any distractions, the sounds outside, the sounds of the castle, the smells, the way the candle flickered, everything had to be pushed aside so he could perform this blessing and request. He knew it, to be something more, something greater, something that could protect everyone, something that could handle the weight of the world.

He had done this before, for missions, for quests, for adventures, he knew it, his heart was racing, his mind was racing, but he had to calm himself down, to focus on the words he had to say, the request and wish he had to perform. He had to become something else, to blend in, to not be seen, to not be recognized.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the energy within him, the divine protection that allowed him to manipulate his very essence, to become something more, something different, something that could protect her better. He felt his body shift, his muscles shrink and conform into something softer, his skin change texture, his hair grew out and his eyes took a different shape.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw himself reflected in the mirror, and she was a vision of beauty and grace, a knight no more, but a lady of the court, her hair a fiery red that matched Sonia's, her eyes a piercing blue that could cut through any lie, her features soft yet determined. She was dressed in a white shirt that clung to her newfound curves, a green vest that highlighted the fullness of her breasts, a brown skirt that flowed down to her heel boots which went up to her knees, and a small blue neck tie that added a dash of color to her throat. She looked at herself, surprised at how natural it felt, how right it was, to be in this form.

The blessing had been more than just physical; there was an energy about her that was undeniably feminine, yet she felt as powerful as ever, maybe more so. She had been trained to be the Sword Saint, but she had learned to be something else entirely, something she had never been before: a woman. It was a strange feeling, but she knew it was necessary for their journey. She had to be someone else, someone who could blend in, someone who could protect Sonia without the burden of her title or her power. As in the morning she entered the room.

One pillow.

Two pillows.

Direct hits to her face, unlike last time …

"Ah, I see the potion worked better than I had anticipated." She said, her voice a delightful blend of mirth and embarrassment. "Please settle down and allow me to explain, Your Highness. It's a simple case of a blessing, something I learned long ago. When the need is dire, and stealth is of the essence, a change of appearance is sometimes necessary." As she bowed.

"For our journey, Your Highness, safety is what is needed, and no attention." She explained, her new voice still holding the same commanding presence it always had, despite the softer tone. "The witch cult will not expect a Sword Saint to travel in such a guise, nor will they suspect a young lady to be guarded by such a formidable knight. It is a simple deception, but one that could mean the difference between life and death. They will think I am here, and leave your family and people alone."

The knight's smile grew wider as he watched her reaction, a sparkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. "Please, be calm." She assured her, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "There is no evil magic, just the world granting my request." As she bowed to them.

“You may call me Adelheid van Astrea, low level knight, servant and maid.” As she only had, low level titles, and reasonability’s, in the eyes of the world, a cousin of the sword saint, that was worthless and not important, as she stepped out the room

#fallesto #Verse TBA #('pack light' does indeed mean bring a small library of books and games)#(And the ladylike disciplines her mother insists she work on)#(and skiis and ice skates)#(Not to mention a good assortment of cold weather clothes)#(Asking a royal to 'pack light' is a losing battle)

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gf2bellamy · 2 months ago

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I had this idea while watching CM i just know you’re THE person to ask!! So i’m picturing established relationship with later seasons Reid and reader sees a pic of early seasons maybe his FBI badge or smth ? And she’s like gosh i wish i met you sooner and Spencer thinks she wouldn’t have liked him back then and she’s like bitch ???? i have this feeling that people started to find him more attractive after the prison trauma and i just want to give some love to early seasons reid like baby i would have smashed u in season 1

badge — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship, post!prison spencer a/n: hii !! loved this idea sooo much <3 because yes ! i would've literally thrown myself at s1 spencer

Spring cleaning.

It was something you had insisted on, and Spencer was reluctantly going along with it. You loved his apartment, with its cozy clutter and towering bookshelves, but there was a fine line between charmingly lived-in and needing intervention. Currently, you were seated cross-legged on the floor beside one of his many bookshelves, sorting through stacks of old files, loose papers, and, of course, more books than any one person could reasonably own.

Spencer was across from you, carefully removing each book from the lower shelf so he could dust beneath them.

You pulled out a well-worn novel, only to find four more identical copies tucked behind it. You held one up, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you have five different versions of the same book?”

Spencer barely glanced up from his task as he answered, “They’re all different special editions. That one—” He gestured vaguely toward the book in your hand. “—has annotations from the original editor. The one next to it has a foreword by a critic I like, and the third has alternate chapter endings that were cut from the final draft.”

You shook your head, amused. Only Spencer would need multiple copies of the same book. Flipping through the pages, you noticed scribbled notes in the margins.

“I haven’t read that one in ages,” Spencer admitted, suddenly abandoning his dusting to scoot closer to you. His knee bumped against yours as he leaned in, his fingers gently taking the book from your hands. He opened it to a random page, and his expression softened as he traced his old annotations with his fingertip.

A small, nostalgic smile tugged at his lips.

You watched him. His hair had fallen into his face again, obscuring his eyes as he focused on the text. You reached out, brushing the unruly strands behind his ear. He barely seemed to notice, too absorbed in the book, but his free hand caught yours, lifting it to his lips to press a quick, absentminded kiss to your knuckles before returning to his reading.

You bit back a laugh.

Of course.

You had come here to clean, and now Spencer was going to reread an entire novel instead. By the time you finished unloading the second shelf, he’d probably be done with it. You reached for a file that had been tucked between stacks of books on the second shelf. Curious, you opened it slowly, peeling back the cover to reveal its contents and then you froze.

"Oh my god."

Spencer, still absorbed in his book, didn’t even glance up as you carefully pulled out what you’d just discovered.

His old FBI badge.

You stared at it, lips parting in amusement. The photo showed a younger Spencer, his hair meticulously gelled to the side, so much more tamed than the unruly curls he had now. It was shorter, too, neatly styled in a way that looked almost foreign compared to the man currently sitting on the floor beside you, lost in his reading.

You didn’t even realize Spencer had finished his book until you felt the faint tickle of his hair against your cheek as he leaned over your shoulder, peering at what you were holding.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, voice warm.

You grinned, twisting to face him as you held up the badge. “Your old FBI badge.”

Spencer blinked at it for a second, processing, before his eyes widened slightly. “Give me that,” he said immediately, reaching for it but you’d predicted that reaction, and you yanked it out of his reach with a laugh.He didn’t even try to fight you for it, just slumped back with a sigh, though the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

“You looked so cute,” you teased, scooting backward just enough to keep the badge safely away. But Spencer wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, he hooked his hands around your ankles and dragged you forward until you were knee-to-knee with him again.

"No, I didn’t," Spencer insisted as he stared at the badge held between you.

"You totally did," you grinned, tracing the edge of the picture with your fingertip. Spencer had stopped looking at the badge entirely, his gaze instead fixed on you, the way your lips curled in amusement, the softness in your expression as you studied him.

"Your lips are still all pouty and pink," you murmured, tapping the photo where his mouth was set in a firm, professional line. Then you glanced up, only to find real Spencer mirroring the expression, his own lips slightly pursed.

"See?" you teased, meeting his eyes.

Spencer shook his head, but there was no real annoyance in it, just fond exasperation. "I wish I’d met you sooner," you said softly, your thumb brushing over the badge before your gaze flickered down for a second.

He stared at you like you’d just spoken in riddles. "You wouldn’t have liked me back then," he muttered.

Now it was your turn to look at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you look adorable," you insisted, holding the badge up again for emphasis.

"Adorable," he repeated flatly, as if that only proved his point, like adorable was code for not worth liking.

So you doubled down. "Attractive. Handsome. Pretty. Hot," you added, each word punctuated with a pointed look.That finally cracked him. A smile tugged at his lips, and he shook his head, but his ears had gone pink.

"Spencer," you pressed, bumping your knee against his, "there’s no way I would’ve missed out on that." You jabbed your finger at the photo for good measure.

He chuckled, finally tearing his gaze away from the badge to focus on you instead. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a second too long to be casual.

"Don’t deflect," you accused, pointing a finger at him.

"I’m not deflecting, I’m reprioritizing," he countered, but the way his thumb traced your jawline betrayed him.

You pouted, hard, and Spencer’s eyes flickered down to your lips like he was physically restraining himself from kissing the expression right off your face. (Which, given the way his fingers twitched against your skin, he absolutely was.)

"I’m serious, Spencer," you insisted. "I would’ve literally asked you out the first second I saw you."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You stuttered for six seconds straight when I asked you out," he reminded you, grinning when your mouth fell open in embarassement.

"That—! That was different!" you spluttered, swatting at his shoulder. "You caught me off guard!"

"Mm-hmm." His grin widened.

"Point is—" You waved the badge between you like a white flag, refusing to let him derail you further. "—I would’ve adored you, Spencer. Any version of you."

Your voice softened at the end, and just like that, his teasing expression melted. He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head like he still didn’t quite believe you, but when he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead, the badge forgotten between you, it was answer enough.

(And if he stole the badge back when you were distracted by his smile? Well. You’d let him have that one.)

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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freyadragonlord · 7 months ago

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Recently I’ve been thinking about the different types of love languages in Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, The S-Classes That I Raised, and Lout of the Count’s Family…

Not to say that each of the stories describes only one single kind of love language; they are, after all, all novels that focus on Found Family, with many different types of relationships between characters that express their love for each other in as many different ways.

Yet, I’ve noticed how at the core of each of these three stories there is one specific act of love that recurs more than others, and that becomes the true Theme each novel revolves around.

In Lout of the Count’s Family, the main love language is providing food and a home.

“Home” is such an important concept in LCF that Cale collects houses like they were pokemon cards. The source of his trauma when he was a child as Kim Roksu was that he was not given sufficient food, and that where he lived was not truly a shelter where he could feel safe, just a place he was trapped in.

And I don’t think there are ever more than 2 chapters in a row without a character offering food to others, or asking if they’re hungry, if they’ve eaten, why haven’t you eaten, here have some apple pie!!

Cale uses his newfound money and power to make sure his loved ones are provided for. That’s how he adopts bonds with most of his new family.

The first thing Raon does after he’s freed from the prison he’s been trapped in all his life, is to leave food for this hopelessly weak human.

Choi Han, who has lived alone in a dangerous forest for decades, would do anything to protect his home.

The Crown Prince, who has been isolated and untrusting of everyone ever since his mother died, makes sure to always have cookies in his bedroom in case guests “break in” for a visit at any time of the day or the night.

I love you, you’ll never be hungry again. I love you, my home is your home.

In The S-Classes That I Raised, the main love language is words.

Yoojin’s powers are literally activated by telling people “I love you”. Because all he ever wanted was to say “I love you” to his brother one last time.

Because the tragedy that starts the story happens because Yoohyun loved and protected his hyung in secret for years. Silence creates misunderstandings, it creates distance, it leads to loss.

Loving someone isn’t enough, tell them! Reassure them. Remember what they say, because their words are important!!

Ever since the regression, Yoojin always let people know when he loves them and appreciates them. “You’re perfect, you’re cute, you’re so talented, you’re so handsome, you are loved.”

And as the novel progresses, whenever Yoojin is in pain, or doesn’t know what to do, he turns to Sung Hyunje because he needs to be reassured, he needs to know he did well, he needs to hear he is still important to the people he loves.

I love you, please know that I love you! I love you, please tell me you love me back.

And finally, in Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, the main love language is time.

Time is one of the greatest sources of horrors in ORV. Eternities upon eternities of suffering, being trapped for ages in the same, hopeless loop, wishing for everything to just stop.

And yet, time is also the greatest gift characters give to each other.

Because the wounds Dokja suffered as a child, and then again and again through his whole life…. They need time to heal. They need so much time. They will probably take forever.

So let them take forever.

Despite how much pain and worry he causes his companions by giving up on himself over and over again, his companions never give up on him. And he doesn’t understand why!! He doesn’t think he’s worth it. But it’s not his choice, it’s theirs. And they will go through as many tries, as much pain, as much time as it takes, before they can finally save him.

I love you, so I will wait fifty years for you. I love you, so I will live through thousands of lifetimes to find you. I love you, so I will read and reread your story for the rest of time, just to keep you alive.

#been feeling some feelings #love languages #omniscient reader's viewpoint #the s classes that i raised #lout of the count’s family #orv #sctir #tsctir #lcf #tcf #trash of the count's family #cale henituse #kim roksu #han yoojin #kim dokja

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ryin-silverfish · 11 months ago

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So You Want to Read More about Chinese Mythos: a rough list of primary sources

"How/Where can I learn more about Chinese mythology?" is a question I saw a lot on other sites, back when I was venturing outside of Shenmo novel booksphere and into IRL folk religions + general mythos, but had rarely found satisfying answers.

As such, this is my attempt at writing something past me will find useful.

(Built into it is the assumption that you can read Chinese, which I only realized after writing the post. I try to amend for it by adding links to existing translations, as well as links to digitalized Chinese versions when there doesn't seem to be one.)

The thing about all mythologies and legends is that they are 1) complicated, and 2) are products of their times. As such, it is very important to specify the "when" and "wheres" and "what are you looking for" when answering a question as broad as this.

-Do you want one or more "books with an overarching story"?

In that case, Journey to the West and Investiture of the Gods (Fengshen Yanyi) serve as good starting points, made more accessible for general readers by the fact that they both had English translations——Anthony C. Yu's JTTW translation is very good, Gu Zhizhong's FSYY one, not so much.

Crucially, they are both Ming vernacular novels. Though they are fictional works that are not on the same level of "seriousness" as actual religious scriptures, these books still took inspiration from the popular religion of their times, at a point where the blending of the Three Teachings (Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism) had become truly mainstream.

And for FSYY specifically, the book had a huge influence on subsequent popular worship because of its "pantheon-building" aspect, to the point of some Daoists actually putting characters from the novel into their temples.

(Vernacular novels + operas being a medium for the spread of popular worship and popular fictional characters eventually being worshipped IRL is a thing in Ming-Qing China. Meir Shahar has a paper that goes into detail about the relationship between the two.)

After that, if you want to read other Shenmo novels, works that are much less well-written but may be more reflective of Ming folk religions at the time, check out Journey to the North/South/East (named as such bc of what basically amounted to a Ming print house marketing strategy) too.

-Do you want to know about the priestly Daoist side of things, the "how the deities are organized and worshipped in a somewhat more formal setting" vs "how the stories are told"?

Though I won't recommend diving straight into the entire Daozang or Yunji Qiqian or some other books compiled in the Daoist text collections, I can think of a few "list of gods/immortals" type works, like Liexian Zhuan and Zhenling Weiye Tu.

Also, though it is much closer to the folk religion side than the organized Daoist side, the Yuan-Ming era Grand Compendium of the Three Religions' Deities, aka Sanjiao Soushen Daquan, is invaluable in understanding the origins and evolutions of certain popular deities.

(A quirk of historical Daoist scriptures is that they often come up with giant lists of gods that have never appeared in other prior texts, or enjoy any actual worship in temples.)

(The "organized/folk" divide is itself a dubious one, seeing how both state religion and "priestly" Daoism had channels to incorporate popular deities and practices into their systems. But if you are just looking at written materials, I feel like there is still a noticeable difference.)

Lastly, if you want to know more about Daoist immortal-hood and how to attain it: Ge Hong's Baopuzi (N & S. dynasty) and Zhonglv Chuandao Ji (late Tang/Five Dynasties) are both texts about external and internal alchemy with English translations.

-Do you want something older, more ancient, from Warring States and Qin-Han Era China?

Classics of Mountains and Seas, aka Shanhai Jing, is the way to go. It also reads like a bestiary-slash-fantastical cookbook, full of strange beasts, plants, kingdoms of unusual humanoids, and the occasional half-man, half-beast gods.

A later work, the Han-dynasty Huai Nan Zi, is an even denser read, being a collection of essays, but it's also where a lot of ancient legends like "Nvwa patches the sky" and "Chang'e steals the elixir of immortality" can be first found in bits and pieces.

Shenyi Jing might or might not be a Northern-Southern dynasties work masquerading as a Han one. It was written in a style that emulated the Classics of Mountains and Seas, and had some neat fantastic beasts and additional descriptions of gods/beasts mentioned in the previous 2 works.

-Do you have too much time on your hands, a willingness to get through lot of classical Chinese, and an obsession over yaoguais and ghosts?

Then it's time to flip open the encyclopedic folklore compendiums——Soushen Ji (N/S dynasty), You Yang Za Zu (Tang), Taiping Guangji (early Song), Yijian Zhi (Southern Song)...

Okay, to be honest, you probably can't read all of them from start to finish. I can't either. These aren't purely folklore compendiums, but giant encyclopedias collecting matters ranging from history and biography to medicine and geography, with specific sections on yaoguais, ghosts and "strange things that happened to someone".

As such, I recommend you only check the relevant sections and use the Full Text Search function well.

Pu Songling's Strange Tales from a Chinese Studios, aka Liaozhai Zhiyi, is in a similar vein, but a lot more entertaining and readable. Together with Yuewei Caotang Biji and Zi Buyu, they formed the "Big Three" of Qing dynasty folktale compendiums, all of which featured a lot of stories about fox spirits and ghosts.

Lastly...

The Yuan-Ming Zajus (a sort of folk opera) get an honorable mention. Apart from JTTW Zaju, an early, pre-novel version of the story that has very different characterization of SWK, there are also a few plays centered around Erlang (specifically, Zhao Erlang) and Nezha, such as "Erlang Drunkenly Shot the Demon-locking Mirror". Sadly, none of these had an English translation.

Because of the fragmented nature of Chinese mythos, you can always find some tidbits scattered inside history books like Zuo Zhuan or poetry collections like Qu Yuan's Chuci. Since they aren't really about mythology overall and are too numerous to cite, I do not include them in this post, but if you wanna go down even deeper in this already gigantic rabbit hole, it's a good thing to keep in mind.

#chinese mythology #chinese folklore #resources #mythology and folklore #journey to the west #investiture of the gods

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iceunhie · 11 months ago

Text

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

#hsr x reader #— stellaronhvnters.#hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #moze x reader #moze x you #moze honkai star rail #x reader #for the tagged ppl: lmk if i should remove the tag haha #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader

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knavcsblade · 6 months ago

Text

unprofessional.

+18!

cw: professor/dilf!arlecchino x student!reader. NOT highschool; both arlecchino and reader are adults. dom arle, sub r. overly descriptive. a lot of tension. age gap. power play (?). slight degradation. cunnilingus.

wc: 3.4k

summary: professor arlecchino tutoring student reader who had fallen behind in class… and lesbian sex.

a/n: i couldn’t stop thinking about dilf arle as a professor… i would apologize, but i know this is a millionaire idea. plus, i haven’t written in ages and my fingers are now moving all over the keys like it’s nothing. i’m free!

Lessons have always been annoying—as far as you can recall—so much so that you would usually find yourself pouring your focus into the most insignificant things you could think of.

You would bring novels into class to read as the professor explained a new subject; you’d look out the window and process all the things you had to do on that very specific Tuesday afternoon; you would even take naps in between the prolonged sentences of that one teacher you simply couldn’t stand, for a reason that managed to escape you every time.

That was until the day the man was rumored to have been fired and replaced by another professional with more experience on the field—someone who most likely wouldn’t bore all the students to death.

Great, you thought, another male educator with an inflated ego who would roll his eyes at every inquiry from his pupils before proceeding to answer sarcastically just to make them feel witless. You were oh so excited for that.

The moment you looked up from your walnut desk, you already knew something was off. Everyone went silent as soon as the door opened—a common occurrence, though it felt different this time, especially since the clicking of heels echoed through the large room.

“Good morning, class,” those were the first three words that came from the new professor. The gravelly depth of her voice carried an air of authority that quickly forced everyone to put all their attention on the manner in which she approached her desk.

You were all in almost a chokehold in an instant, that was as clear as day. However, you seemed to be the most interested one out of the bunch by the way your eyes lingered on her form—on the way there was a lack of sway in her hips that you were unused to.

Most of the female scholars were nothing like her, and not just physically, you could already tell. She carried herself in a way that had you almost hypnotized, and you already knew you would be paying attention this time around.

There was a soft thud that bounced off the walls when she set her messenger briefcase on the dark wood of her new desk, eyes glimmering like coals in the darkness never leaving the class sitting before her. “Before we begin, introductions are indispensable,” her gaze flickered towards you for a few seconds before she spoke again.

That was… odd. You definitely looked like a deer in headlights to her now.

“I’m Arlecchino, and I’m afraid I will be your new professor from this moment onward… and no, I shall not disclose the details of your previous professor’s departure, before you ask.”

The auditorium had fallen silent the second she walked in, but due to the velvety, spellbinding tone of her voice, it seemed to grow even quieter. Of course, she had every student’s undivided attention at this point, but you found yourself staring at her for longer than would be considered appropriate.

The way she wore her suit captured your notice almost instantly. This was a common attire worn by every professor at the institute you attended, though hers was utterly captivating. The way the fabric clung onto her body, adding the way she carried herself… it was difficult for you to focus on her words at all, no matter how hard you tried.

And oh, her voice had you in a trance. The way the low vibrations of it echoed through the room sent shivers down your spine in a way you had never felt before. This person couldn’t be real…

You were so distracted by her you didn’t even realize the lesson was already over until you noticed the people around you beginning to stand up—Arlecchino taking a seat at her desk just to go through some papers she had taken out of her briefcase.

Much to your dismay, you were snapped out of your thoughts by this and, of course, her speaking. “Make sure to continue… hitting the books, as they say. In spite of your former professor’s leave-taking, the exam dates remain the same.”

The moment you got up and most of your peers had exited the room, you simply had to look at her for the last time. Truly, where did this woman come from? She was otherworldly, in your very honest opinion, and you were one hundred percent upset about having to make your way outside at that moment.

But oh, did you enjoy the lectures now.

You enjoyed her… them so much, the quality of your exam was abysmal. For her, even having to read the few words you wrote down felt like a punch in the gut, and she almost winced while going over it. However, who could blame you? Your last professor was truly someone who spoke and lulled you to sleep, and she was too distracting for you to even begin to comprehend the words that flowed out of her mouth.

The moment you picked up your test from her desk, you didn’t even look at it. You caught a glimpse of red inked scribbles all over the paper, clearly Arlecchino’s corrections, but you couldn’t bring yourself to even read what she had to say. You already knew you had messed up—what was the point?

You always told yourself you would simply ‘study more next time’; however, this was futile. All the subjects were related, so you practically were doomed to fail. You hadn’t the time to go over so many different things in just a few months.

The lesson began once you sat down, and one more time, your chin rested idly on the palm of your hand as you watched her. This was the sole reason you had underperformed on the exam, or so she thought.

She could almost vividly see the way her speech went in one of your ears and out the other, and in spite of her calm demeanor, it was slowly beginning to vex her. Were you truly this careless?

Of course, she kept an eye on you while she explained the intricacies of the new subject at hand, slowly pacing before the entirety of the class as she did her best to direct your attention to her words—not the way her steps allowed you to notice just how toned her frame was beneath the fabric of her suit.

The second everyone got up to leave the auditorium after long hours, you heard a soft “you”—one that oozed authority despite its calm tone. You already knew whose lips that simple word came out of. Naturally, you looked disoriented as you approached Arlecchino with your bag now hanging from your shoulder and heart beating so loud in your chest it might as well have been about to burst.

“Yes?”

Her gaze eventually turned to you, blackened hands gaining purchase on her own hips as she looked down at you. Finally, you could see her nails up close, one of the things you continued to ogle while sitting a few feet away from her, and you were more than fascinated by them now.

She cleared her throat to catch your focus once again after noticing it deviating from her face, and you would have been startled if only you hadn’t found her so attractive. “I have been informed that you are… one of the students who didn’t exactly pay attention to these classes previously. I wished to let you know you may come to me after lessons so I can clear any doubts you might have.”

Her eyes bored into yours as she spoke, and if you couldn’t hear your own heartbeat in your very ears, you would have assumed it had stopped completely. Educators were allowed to be mesmerizing, sure, but you had never found yourself being so… distracted by one.

“I’m positive you have quite a few of them, since I was told you spent most of your time dozing off or staring out the window at the previous professor’s lectures. Not to mention the way you seemed more than distracted in our last ones, unlike the other students…, and your failed exam.”

You immediately felt called out by her—who wouldn’t? Wasn’t this deeply embarrassing? This woman assumed you were, well, an uninterested fool, judging by her almost condescending tone. She already knew you had always been busy hearing her voice, but never truly listening to her. You felt your cheeks begin to burn from the shame.

“Yes, I…,” you cut yourself off to clear your throat, fist covering your mouth as you thought for a few seconds. Would you confirm her obvious assumptions about you, or reject her offer? Well, the answer was obvious. “I suppose it would do me good.”

“It would do your grades good,” her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as she spoke, piercing eyes solely focused on yours at all times. They were inhumanly beautiful yet hauntingly distant; despite this obvious nature, you couldn’t look away. “I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of my students falling behind.”

That said, a vocal sigh left her parted lips and filled the room in an instant.

“We will meet at the library, yes? Perhaps I can… enlighten you for once.”

And so she did. She would spend hours on end trying to get certain things through your pretty little head, often having to literally snap you out of your thoughts. You spent long periods watching the way she held her garnet fountain pen instead of listening to her, and this was becoming tiresome.

You could practically hear her jaw clenching as you quietly giggled and lied through your teeth. “Don’t worry, I understand” and “yes, that makes sense” were things you would say time and again, even if Arlecchino hadn’t been speaking for minutes.

In a way, she found you… amusing, albeit irritating. The situation wasn’t one she was used to, even after years of being an important scholar of Teyvat.

You thought you weren’t being so blatant, though she caught on the reason for your absentmindedness pretty quickly. She would notice even the smallest of details about your actions, like the way your gaze would drop to her lips as she spoke, or how you continued to bite the inside of your cheek—it was almost as if you were somewhere in between reality and some different plane of existence.

She didn’t blame you, however. You were very clearly infatuated with her, and oh, did she find it sweet.

The only issue with these private lessons was that neither of you had considered the fact that the library closed once a month for the staff to conduct a book recount. The first Friday this took place, Arlecchino found herself having to simply invite you to her home so you could both resume your routine.

This wasn’t exactly inappropriate, at least not to her. It was fairly common for her colleagues to take the students who needed the most support to their places so they could perform their duties as tutors to them—you were utterly flustered, however.

You had ‘sneakily’ gotten information out of her about her personal life, like how she had adopted three children a few years back, or how she had a beautiful garden with rainbow roses she enjoyed taking care of before making her way to the institute. None of that could ever compare to setting foot into her house, fully missing those children she had mentioned before.

You now sat at the desk in her study, cross-legged with your tightly clasped hands resting on your lap and Arlecchino sitting before you. You desperately wished to look around—to take in the way she had decorated the room and maybe catch onto small details of hers she wouldn’t confess. However, you kept your gaze on her the entire time. Furniture could wait, could it not?

“I apologize for the… chaos,” her voice rumbled as she focused on putting away the scattered papers all over the large desk into a folder.

All you did was wave your hand dismissively in response, and if you weren’t looking so intently, you would have missed the way the corners of her lips lifted with utmost subtlety.

Your books were covering the mahogany wood in minutes, Arlecchino slightly leaned in as the crimson crosses in her eyes focused on the words plastered on the pages. She could definitely feel you studying her form more than you would ever study the sentences sitting right in front of you. She had had enough now.

Her voice pulled you out of your head in an instant, doe-eyed as you hummed. It took you a few seconds to register her question, the usual “did you understand?”

“Oh, uh… yes, absolutely.”

“Do it, then,” she said, leaning back with crossed arms and brows furrowed slightly enough to make you press your lips together instinctively.

It was clear you were puzzled at her words. You hadn’t heard what she had uttered before, and she just knew it.

“I’m… sorry, what?”

To this, all she did was exhale deeply through her nose and begin to organize all the books and papers you had placed on her desk. Her patient demeanor was beginning to falter, and all due to you.

“Get on the desk. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Her answer was simple, and the way she said it left no room for hesitation whatsoever.

She put all your belongings aside to rest her palms on the edge of the furniture, getting up with a swift movement that made her chair roll back and give her enough room to wait for you to do what she had commanded. It was clear there was a plan in her mind, one about what she would do to you the second you obeyed, and it was nerve-racking.

Oh, well. Who were you to not do as she said? Especially when her gaze lingered on yours expectantly.

You slowly made your way towards her, hands trembling as you used them to prop yourself up and now find yourself sitting atop her desk in pure silence. Your legs were pressed together, naturally, since you had decided to wear a skirt due to the hot weather that had taken place merely a couple of weeks earlier. You didn’t wish to expose yourself before her, or did you?

“You know, dear,” she started as she drew closer, the nickname as well as the manner in which her hand found its way towards your thigh making your heart race in what could only be anticipation, “you aren’t good at listening, or understanding what I regularly explain to you… or keeping your focus on something other than me.”

At that moment, everything around you seemed to vanish. She was now so close you could feel the heat of her body against yours and her breath tickling your face. Somehow, before you could even react at all, she stood between your spread legs as her blackened hand snaked its way under the fabric of your skirt.

Could your poor heart even take all of this?

“I’m sure you aren’t even paying attention to what I’m saying right now, are you?”

“Sorry, you… you’re too close. I can’t…,” you didn’t even finish your sentence, but not due to her. It was all because your mind could only concentrate on the way her nails uniformly dug into the plush skin of your thigh.

“You can’t… what? Think? Of course you can’t,” she muttered in response, knowing she needn’t speak louder considering the closeness between you two.

It didn’t take her long to shatter this small distance, however. She leaned in impossibly closer, giving you all the time in the world to pull away if you wished to do so—if she had been stupid enough to misunderstand the whole situation. Yet, as the seconds passed, you didn’t. Obviously.

Her other hand managed to gain purchase on your waist to pull you in and meet her lips halfway, wrapping you in a kiss as unhurried and torturous as it was passionate and hungry. And oh, the way you finally let out the breath you weren’t aware of holding through your nose the instant you tasted her only made her fully press herself against you.

You let her in eventually, a whimper betraying you as she fervently explored your mouth and her fingers wrapped around the hem of your underwear to slide it down your legs. She couldn’t find herself caring about anything other than giving you what you had wanted in such a desperate manner since you first saw her, even more so ever since you had managed to grow on her so easily.

She thought you were simply… almost adorable. The way you drooled every time your eyes landed on her was something she found more than entertaining, and she wished to see how many reactions she could pull out of you with uncomplicated deeds.

Arlecchino only pulled away to kneel before you, and you couldn’t help but notice the fine thread of saliva that connected your lips before it snapped once her face waited right in front of your unclothed, drenched cunt. She watched you in silence, crimson eyes now turning darker at the sight of your desperate expression.

You just wanted her to ravish you, didn’t you?

All she had to do was lift your legs up to rest on her shoulders just so her tongue could finally roll between your folds and soak in your fluids fully. This took longer than you were hoping for, but once it did, your head lolled back at the feeling.

This was followed by you dragging a moan out of the depths of your throat, an action that made her hold tightly onto your thighs since she could already tell you would be the type to squirm and make a mess only from getting eaten out.

The pretty noises coming from you the moment she found that sweet bundle of nerves only made her react by digging her nails into the warm skin of your thighs and shoving her face even further into you. Her nose was pressed against your mound, and the sensation of the small hairs pricking on it made the feeling even more enjoyable for her.

She seemed to eat your pussy out like a woman starved—one not afraid to pour the entirety of her silent desire onto you and watch you relish it in its entirety. She could even feel the mixture of your wetness and her saliva beginning to drip down her chin and pour onto her pants to stain them in the future, all the while she lapped against your sensitive clit.

Long minutes full of moans, whimpers, and your hand tangling in her hair passed when you felt that well-known heat forming in your lower stomach. You couldn’t ignore it, and neither could she. Arlecchino could simply tell how close you were to an orgasm just from the way your legs squeezed her head every once in a while.

“Fuck… fuck, Arlecchino, please,” a strained plea that was interrupted by a mewl left your mouth which hung open for her to hear you.

Between lewd slurps and wet noises, her eyes found yours for what probably was less than a second. This managed to get you to clench around nothing as a loud moan filled the air.

“How vulgar,” came the only muffled response from her, though she lacked the sharpness of her usual tone. She was absolutely pussy-drunk at this point, only focused on bringing you to ecstasy with her tongue and claws carving crescent moons into your thighs.

It didn’t take you long to find your release, twitching and holding onto absolutely anything on that desk to keep yourself from fully resting on it. Even at the peak of your orgasm she didn’t let go of you; she was entranced by making sure she licked you clean of all your juices no matter what. It became overwhelming at one point—the way she made sure to swallow your climax solely made you wish this would have happened sooner.

Once she was done enjoying your taste, she slowly got up to wipe the remains of your loud crescendo with the back of her hand, red crosses finding your pupils though she knew you were more than out of your five senses.

“I do hope that, after this, you will pay more attention to our future lessons, dear,” her voice was somewhat deeper, and it forced you to nod through your exhaustion.

You would definitely focus on her words from now on.

#–𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞'𝖘 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌.#genshin x reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x female reader #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin impact #arlecchino smut #geshin women x reader #genshin women smut #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #genshin x gn reader #x reader #genshin wlw

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mochieekittenz · 1 month ago

Text

Hold Me After

cw: p*ssy eating, (not so) dry humping, thighf*cking

character(s): caleb x f!reader (smut)

aaaaand before we begin! thank you so much for all the love on my last Sylus post — your comments, reblogs, and general interactions absolutely made my week. You guys are insane in the best way, and I adore you for it!! <3 It makes me genuinely so happy seeing people enjoying my work because I try to put my everything in it

THIS FIC is brought to you by my sleep deprivation and the ghost of my dignity. Warning! This is 90% my Caleb obsession and 10% me desperately trying to keep up. I take no refunds. Proceed with caution and enjoy! :>

──★ ˙

𝓘t was summer — Last year of highschool

The school year was practically over. Graduation was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in ages, the idea of “what comes next” didn’t make your stomach twist with anxiety — it actually excited you. You were done with the routine, the crowded hallways, same questions, same answers. There was something thrilling about the thought of stepping into the world on your own terms.

You’d always dreamed of that moment. Of being your own person, following your own rhythm. It should’ve been exciting. You were ready for it — or at least you told yourself that.

But the truth was, independence didn’t always feel like freedom. It felt like silence, sometimes. Like boredom. Like being left behind.

It also meant change. Real change.

Especially when it came to Caleb

You used to see him every day. He was your partner in crime. A best friend, someone with you didn’t have to pretend anything. You knew each other too well for that. You shared the same roof, same stories, the same stupid inside jokes that could only build after years of proximity.

He’d tease you, you’d mock him, you’d steal food off each other’s plates, pinch eachother, even argue at some times. The unstoppable bickering between you two was a no stranger.

It was simple like that

But now? Now everything felt…grown-up. Fragile. Like if you said the wrong thing, you’d ruin the balance.

He’d started college — aviation. He was chasing clouds while you were stuck finishing essays and pretending high school still mattered. And Caleb changed — not drastically, but in little ways that stung. He spoke differently now, carried himself with a quiet kind of confidence. He was sharper. More thoughtful. His voice deeper, his face leaner. There was still the same warmth when he smiled at you, still the same teasing edge — but something else, too. Something you couldn’t name without feeling stupid for noticing.

He was visiting you and grandma as much as he could, when he wasn't heavy with his responsibilities, like now — early June when holidays were almost there. When the sense of nostalgia filled the air and made everything rush back to you.

However — Today the house was still. Caleb had been out all day, catching up with old friends he hadn't seen since winter. Dinner was long over. Grandma had gone to bed early with one of her crime novels. You were laying on your bed, freshly showered and still warm from the steam, your hair damp against the back of your neck. The heat had lingered even after sunset, turning your small room into a suffocating bubble of humid air and sticky skin. An old fan clattered weakly at the foot of your bed, doing more noise than good.

It was too hot to think. Too hot to sleep. You lay on your stomach, chin propped on the pillow, staring at your phone screen and scrolling through the same posts, fingers moving out of habit more than interest. Pictures. Videos. Nothing new. You were bored out of your mind.

That restless kind of bored that made your skin feel too tight. That kind of bored that made you itch for something, anything to feel.

You sighed heavily and locked your phone, you let it rest on your chest, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot.

It felt ridiculous. But your body wouldn’t settle, no matter how many positions you tried, no matter how many apps you opened and closed again.

There was nothing to do

There was no one to talk to

And you couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb

Not in that way. Not…like that.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But he’d been so different lately. Distant, quieter. Still kind, still Caleb — you caught him looking at you sometimes. Not in a way that you could call out. Just…a second too long. A flick of the eyes when you weren’t wearing a bra under your tank top, or you were wearing something shorter. You never wanted to admit it to yourself, you never let such thoughts even cross your mind — You felt bad about it.

But on the other hand.

You weren’t stupid

You noticed the way his eyes flicked away the instant you met his gaze, like he was caught but unwilling to admit it. That brief pause, that half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. It made your heart both race and ache, all at once.

Your legs shifted, thighs pressing together. You exhaled slowly through your nose. Your hand moved to rest on your abdomen, fingers mindlessly fumbling with a string of your sleep shorts.

It was dumb

But you can still feel it — the way he looked at you, those barely-there glances that never failed to set that weird sensation in your stomach. It made your skin tingle in the worst way possible. Your heartbeat quickens just at the thought of it, a slow, taunting ache blossoming inside you.

Without really thinking, your fingers twitch at your waistband. Your hand drifts, almost hypnotically, sliding underneath the soft fabric of your shorts.

Not because of him. Of course not. He was just a passing thought.

A shiver runs up your spine as your fingers press gently against your underwear. The touch is light at first, a delicate tease as your fingertips trace the smoothness of your panties. You feel the faint heat beneath, a warmth you hadn’t fully acknowledged until this very moment. It makes every nerve in you ignite.

With an heavy exhale you begin to circle your fingers. Your touch slow at first, barely there. Just enough to make your body tense, to make your hips lift slightly into your own hand. Your other hand gripped the sheets. Your breath stuttering. The world outside faded, leaving only the uneven rhythm of your breath and the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

Your mind drifts again, tangled in fantasies of what those looks might mean — what might possibly happen if you dared to meet his gaze and hold it.

And you imagine his voice.

Low

Breathy

Over your ear

Saying your name the way he doesn’t.

Just a passing thought. Yeah

You press harder, your fingers finding that perfect spot over your underwear, that little bump covered by the fabric, rubbing in gentle, measured circles. The friction — the pressure — it’s not enough, but it’s a good start.

You know this won’t take long

Not when your body already knows what it’s chasing. Not when you’ve been carrying this heat all day, pretending it wasn’t there.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, a soft sigh escapes. Your legs part a little wider, giving your fingers more room to move, pressing harder, faster.

Your whole body is flushed, caught in that delicious, desperate chase. You catch the inside of your cheek with your teeth. And just as your thighs started to tremble—

...

Click

The door swings open

Caleb.

You freeze

"Hey pipsqueak, I've—" you can swear that his face just went through at least 15 emotions, all at once.

....

"Shit...Sorry—"

You lay wide eyed. Heart hammering. Hand still buried under your shorts, caught in motion.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn't knock — because he never had to knock — and now there he is — Caleb. Standing in the doorway, just like he’s always done, comfortable, casual — except this time, he had seen everything.

In one frantic motion, you yanked the sheets over your hips, sitting upright so fast your head spun.

“Jesus—Caleb, knock—!” you blurted out, voice breaking somewhere between anger and panic.

He had seen.

“I—fuck,” he stammered, eyes darting to the floor, but he didn’t step back, didn’t shut the door.

“I didn’t know — I thought you—"

“Y-you were supposed to be out—" you muttered, your voice strangled.

“I was. But I left my charger in your room,” he whispered, voice low and ragged. “Didn’t think…”

....

Your skin prickled. Your heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard you tried.

“…didn’t think I’d walk in on you doing that.”

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

“W-Well—congrats. You did. So—"

He still stood there, caught like he’d stepped into a dream he wasn’t sure was real. His gaze raked over you—slowly, like it hurt to look and hurt more to stop.

You both stared at each other, locked in the kind of silence that stretches forever. He didn’t move. Didn’t leave. And for the first time, you saw something in his expression that wasn’t brotherly at all.

Something else flickered there — a shift you didn’t know what to do with.

His gaze was too steady. It made your stomach clench. You saw the way he shifted his weight, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. You were both hovering on the edge of something irreversible.

“Were you...gonna finish?” His voice was quieter now, lower. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just… raw.

What. The. Fuck

"Wha-...C-Caleb, what are you—"

“You were gonna finish, right?” he asked again. “When I walked in?”

The way he said it — not teasing, not cocky. Just…careful. Wanting. So painfully full of restraint it almost hurt.

Your eyes were like two red coals, Caleb never saw such desperation on your face, he really did done something to you. As if this insane desire was matching up to his own - long suppressed one.

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie.”

You looked at him and you didn’t even knew what to say anymore.

He ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed — from frustration. Confusion. Something messier.

You swallowed, your face turned crimson by now.

“Caleb—”

“Please...Tell me what you were thinking about.”

You shook your head, your eyes dropping to the floor.

“Tell me,” he said again, quieter.

“I… I don’t…”

"Please. I need to know." he groaned as if he was going through some kind of pain

You couldn't find your voice at this moment.

Caleb took a nervous second of look back, then clicked the door shut gently, the sound barely audible. He paused, motionless, as if weighing his next move. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he approached the bed and crouched beside it.

“Did I ever cross a line with you pipsqueak?” he asked. “Ever made you uncomfortable?”

“I...No.” you shook your head.

“Then tell me the truth.”

You bit your lip, eyes cast down.

“Were you thinking about me?”

You were silent, but the corner of your eye twitched. That was everything he had to know.

And he breathed out like if you had just knocked the air from his chest.

Caleb's heart raced, pounding against his ribs like a drum. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. You, touching yourself, thinking about him? It was everything he had ever fantasized about and more. But it was also so, so wrong.

He swallowed hard, trying to push down the dark, depraved thoughts that flooded his mind. He couldn't think about you like that.

“…Shit. Please don't do this to me." he exhaled heavily.

His voice was low, like it barely made it out of his throat. Like he regretted the question even as he asked it.

You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t meet his eyes. Your thighs squeezed together and it only made it worse.

He knew he should put a stop to this conversation right now, should push you away and pretend he had never heard your confession. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to deny you, to deny himself the chance to be close to you in a way he had always secretly dreamed of.

He was too fucking selfish, too consumed by his own dark desires to do what was right.

“I was trying so hard not to be a sick fuck. So hard.” his face was washed with something you've never seen before. His hand moved out, intertwining his fingers with yours. He swallowed. Hard. His eyes flicked up to your face.

"I'm trying to be good , pipsqueak...I really am. But I don’t know what the fuck we are anymore.” he muttered. ”And do you?”

Your fingers curled tighter around his as you were watching how your hands connected.

“I…” your voice came out small. “I don’t know.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, eyes shutting like he was trying to keep something inside from spilling out. But it was already too late for that.

“I keep thinking it’s just a phase,” he said. “That I’ll get over it. That it’ll pass.”

His eyes met yours, and they were haunted. Desperate.

“But then you look at me like that. All wide-eyed. Like you’re scared of me. Like...you don't know me? Or worse — like you’re curious.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes taking in every inch of expressions that were washing over his face at this very moment.

“I hate myself for it. For all of it.” he continued

“I’m not...—proud of what I thought,” he admitted. “Of what I felt. Of the things I imagined when I was alone.” you could swear that his eyes were freaking glossed as he rambled.

"Caleb..."

“I'm so sorry pips. But...I just— I don’t think I can play pretend to be your good proper brother anymore. It's driving me batshit crazy. I’ve been swallowing it down for so long. Every glance. Every goddamn brush of your skin against mine. And it’s—it’s eating me alive.”

He stared at you like he needed you to hate him. Or need him back.

“I don’t want to be this guy,” he said. “I really fucking don’t…”

He moved closer, forehead pressing against the edge of the mattress like it physically hurt to hold back.

“If you tell me to leave, I swear to God I will. I’ll walk out that door and never bring this up again.” his voice came out a muffled desperation.

“But if there’s even a part of you… that feels this too…Then please. Let me stop pretending.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words caught somewhere between fear and fire.

“I…I thought I was crazy.”

He stilled. Moving his face up to look at you.

“I thought...it was just me,” you whispered. “The looks. The way my stomach would flip when you’d come into my room—” you felt your eyes starting to sting, you bit your lip to prevent your emotions from showing. Caleb was watching your face silently.

“I...I hated it. Hated...how wrong it felt. How wrong I felt. But you were always so calm. So normal. Like it didn’t even cross your mind. And I figured it was just me being…sick.”

“No,” he said instantly. “God, no, baby—”

“I know,” you whispered. “Now I know.”

Your fingers curled around his.

He was silent, his eyes bright as all the stars brought together. His lips were parted slightly, as If he couldn't believe his own ears. He swallowed and exhaled through his nose, rising slightly on his knees.

"Can I...Can I kiss you?—"

“Yes.” your response came faster than you could think. You thought about it. Fuck you thought about it so many times, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself.

His breath shuddered. He leaned in slowly, as if he was giving you every second to back out. But he never found any hesitation.

He closed the distance. His lips brushed yours like he was testing the idea of a kiss, not taking it. Feather-light, his breath trembling over your plushy lips.

You made a small, aching sound in the back of your throat — not even a word. Just need.

And that was it.

He pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you, this time real. His hand curled into the sheets near your hip, still not daring to touch your skin, but his mouth moved over yours like he was starving for it. Like kissing you was a sin and a salvation all at once. You whimpered against him, your lips parting, and he groaned into your mouth like the sound had been ripped straight from his chest.

Your hand reached up blindly, curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer with a breathless little noise you couldn’t hold back. That was all it took for him to lose the last of his control.

He deepened the kiss — not harsh, but needy, hungry in a way that felt like it had been building for years. And you kissed him back — shy, nervous, a pure instinct.

As if driven by some quiet courage you didn’t know you had, your free hand found his wrist. You squeezed it gently.

He pulled away to catch his breath, his eyes flicked open, searching yours — surprised but not pulling away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you guided his hand downward, until his palm rested against your inner thigh. You held his hand there for a heartbeat, your heart hammering in your chest like a drum. And then, with a trembling breath, you guided it further.

Right between your legs.

Caleb froze for a second — his breath caught in his throat. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at you with something fierce and tender all at once.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, voice rough and barely controlled.

You nodded, cheeks flushing hotter than before.

He shuddered and leaned back towards you. He started to plant soft kisses over your jaw, sliding down to your neck. He nuzzled his nose into your collarbone, letting out a shaky breath as he let his fingers fumble underneath your sleep shorts.

His breath caught — sharp and audible — and for a second, his whole body visibly shuddered.

“Holy—…” he whispered, voice cracking in his throat.

His fingers pressed gently against the dampness soaking through the thin cotton, like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. You squirmed, your face twisting slightly as you felt his fingertips grazing your panties.

“You’re—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “Fuck, you're soaked..”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed, lips parted, chest rising like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“You got like this… just from touching yourself?” he asked, eyes searching yours, stunned and wrecked.

You nodded, shy but unable to lie.

His fingers kept moving slowly over the soaked fabric, each drag making you twitch beneath him. It was maddening — warm, steady pressure just shy of what you needed, and you couldn’t stop the quiet, aching sounds spilling from your throat.

Caleb was staring at your face like he was watching something sacred. His jaw was tight, eyes wild, and his lips hovered just inches from yours — close enough that you could feel every shaky breath.

You whimpered, hand fisting the sheets beside you.— like the sound was dragged out of your chest without permission. Your eyebrows pulled together.

His breath caught again — like every sound you made hit him straight in the chest.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Your breath shook — a sharp, broken sound that made his whole body jolt.

“I can feel you through them,” he rasped, fingers teasing along the edges of your panties. “You’re so wet I could probably taste it through the fucking fabric.”

You squirmed. His mouth found your ear, he kissed it slowly, reverently, as his thumb dragged down the soaked center of your underwear once more — slower this time.

“I’m...trying to go slow,” he murmured against your earlobe, words hot and wet against your skin. “Trying not to scare you. But, fuck, pipsqueak…”

He groaned, soft and strangled, his hand pausing again.

“You feel like this and expect me to be normal?”

You shifted, thighs twitching around his wrist, and his fingers twitched in response — a helpless reflex.

“God, pips… I’m so hard right now.”

He swallowed hard, eyes dark and desperate.

“I swear, it’s like my cock’s about to burst.”

He leaned downwards. His lips found the corner of your mouth, moving down to jaw, then your neck — slow, open-mouthed kisses dragging down every inch of your skin. You whimpered uncontrollably.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Because if Gran' hears, we’re both fucked.”

Caleb’s hand massaged you for a moment longer, trembling with every touch — before he slowly pulled back, his eyes dark and searching. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, sliding them slowly down you.

You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing even more, caught between embarrassment and want

“I hate that you couldn’t finish… because I walked in. I’m gonna make it up to you,” he vowed, voice desperate but soft. “I promise.”

“I want to do this right,” he whispered, voice low, rough with need. “I want to make sure you feel everything — all of it.”

Caleb stripped your shorts off with practiced ease, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He dropped to his knees beside the bed again, hands firm as they slid beneath you, pulling your hips to the edge with a quiet hunger. His breath hitched, eyes locked on the darkened center of your underwear, his pupils wide with want. He wetted his lips slowly, gaze flicking up to meet yours — a silent question, or maybe...just maybe — a promise. He leaned in.

His mouth found you through the damp fabric, a low hum escaping him immediately as he kissed you there. His nose grazed against you as he breathed in, savoring the scent of your arousal. You gasped softly, hips jerking upward in response, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second — dark, burning, and full of intention.

”H-Hah...Caleb—" you whined out

He lingered there, lips pressing to the soaked fabric as if testing your patience — or his own. He exhaled a shaky breath, then slowly, deliberately, let the tip of his tongue drag along the dampness, tasting you through the thin barrier. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he let out a low sound of approval, the vibrations humming against you.

His mouth moved with purpose now — no longer tentative, but hungry, sure of the effect he had on you. His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles, then flicked with precision, alternating rhythm and pressure in a way that made your thighs tense around him.

Your face twisted with that kind of pleasure — that you didn't even knew could exist - until now of course.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured into you, his voice breaking on the edge of awe. “You taste so sweet… I need—” his breath caught, “—I need to make you cum…"

And with agonizing slowness, he hooked his fingers under the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the lacy frill that was already soaked by your arousal. He lifted his eyes to yours once again — a silent pause, waiting for your permission, your surrender. When he saw it, he pushed the fabric aside, baring you to his heated gaze.

"Gods—You're so...pretty, pipsqueak."

He took his time, as if memorizing every detail, before leaning in again. This time, there was no hesitation. His tongue met you fully — wet and hot — It made your hips jerk up harshly, your hand flew to cover your mouth. Fuck and the whine he made...was pure need. Each drag of his tongue was hurried, worshipful, drawing a gasp from your nose as your body arched into his mouth. You couldn't blame him, he waited for so long after all. He held you there, pinned by the weight of his hunger, devouring every reaction with his mouth, his breath, his eyes.

You shivered like you've never did before. A bead of sweat rolled down your back. Your fingers found his hair, threading through the soft strands, pulling instinctively as your hips arched toward his mouth. He responded with a low growl, gripping your thighs tighter, holding you open, guiding you exactly how he wanted you — nowhere to run, nothing to do but feel.

His lips sealed around your clit. Tongue closed around the delicate bud, flicking and teasing with maddening precision, the tip of his tongue blessing it with kitten licks, sending shockwaves of fire straight to your core.

"C-Caleb, I-I can't—" you whimpered over your hand.

“I wanted to get my hands on you...for so long...” he stammered, then sucked — hard. His lips locked tight around your clit like he was trying to drink the years of longing straight from your body.

”I...I just wanted to do this to you...” his fingers stroked your thighs, tender but desperate, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you or worship you.

“You don’t get it,” he gasped against your heat. “You don’t fucking get it. I’ll ruin myself for this. For you. I’ll tear myself apart. I’ll fall on my knees, I’ll beg, I’ll fucking crawl. I'll do anything you ask me for—"

He whined like a damn puppy. It was cute — in it's own way, but so fucking sick and twisted at the same time.

“Can’t believe you’ve been walkin’ around with this between your legs…and I couldn’t touch it,” he whispered raggedly, kissing your inner thighs, his voice cracking like he was close to crying. “All those nights thinking about it. Thinking about you—how you’d taste. How you’d sound.”

He groaned like it hurt to say it, to feel it, to taste it. His fingers trembled slightly as he spread your folds open, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful. He pressed his tongue flat against you and dragged it up with aching precision, then locked eyes with you again, pupils blown wide.

You try to hold back, to stay quiet, but the tight, uncontrollable squeeze inside you betrays your will. Your hole contracts reflexively — even though there’s nothing inside, it clenches around empty air, like it’s already craving him, already hungry for the fullness you know only he can give. Your hips buck upwards sharply, and he pulls you by your hips even harder.

“Shit...please. Please just...use my...—Use my face.”

You swear you could feel your eyes almost rolling back your skull. A single tear rolled down your cheek — From the immaculate pleasure you couldn't comprehend. Your body shuddered, hips jerking instinctively as he devoured you, tongue pressing harder, driving you closer to the edge. You grind into his mouth, desperate, needy, gone — and he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. He’s slurping you up through the edge, into it, past it — until your vision whites out and your body forgets how to do anything but come, violently, endlessly, wrecked on his tongue.

As soon as you whine out into your clasped over your mouth hand — you feel him stiffen. A strangled cry — half a whine, half a gasp — ripped from Caleb’s throat. His whole body tensed like he’d been shocked, a sharp ache crossing his face.

“Fuck—” he gasped, pulling back slightly, breathing heavy, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

You froze, heart pounding, eyes wide.

”C-Caleb? What's...What's wrong?" you breathed out harshly, still struggling to compose yourself.

Before you could ask more, he shook his head, swallowing hard, voice hoarse and embarrassed. “I… I just… came,” he gasps out, breath ragged.

Came from freaking watching you come. Fucked.

A flush rises to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and something tender swelling inside you. You didn’t expect this vulnerability, this raw honesty from him. It makes your heart skip, even as your body aches, still pulsing from the way he touched you.

“Caleb…” you whisper, voice soft but steady.

“I-I'm okay,” he whispered, voice trembling. He reached up to brush your sweat drenched bangs from your forehead.

“Fuck, it never happened to me before” Caleb huffed as if he couldn't believe himself. He swallowed hard, biting his lip as if to hold back something fierce. He pushed himself up and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, voice rough but tender. “I didn’t mean for that to happen now. I just… I need you. Need you so much.” His hands trembled slightly as he reached for your panties. He gently pulled them back into place, like he was protecting you — even though inside he was burning up with need. You furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“I don’t deserve to touch you bare—not yet.” he explained. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down to the front of his pants and freed himself.

You saw him — like really saw him for the first time. Your breath hitched. That was this moment, a flicker of time when everything else fades away. His cock was still hard and pulsing, it was something you’d imagined a thousand times, but nothing could prepare you for the reality of it.

Your eyes traced every line, every vein, the way it throbbed with need. The heavines of his arousal was suffocating. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, your heart pounding as a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and something almost like awe washed over you. It was bigger than you expected, powerful and alive, and seeing it like that—so close, so exposed—made your skin tingle all over.

For a heartbeat, his confident, desperate facade cracked, and a flicker of fear passed through his gaze. Were you scared? Did he push too hard, too fast? There was a flicker of worry in his eyes, like the intensity of your stare unsettled him more than you realized. “If you’re… if you’re scared, I get it. I just—”

“No,” you breathed, voice shaky but sure. “I’m not scared.”

He still didn’t move. His hands hovered, frozen in the space between reaching and retreating. You saw how tightly his jaw was clenched, the way his brows pulled together like he was bracing for rejection.

“I’ve just… never seen one in real life before,” you said quietly, eyes flicking down, then back up to meet his. Your cheeks burned. “And it’s… bigger than I thought.”

Silence.

Caleb’s entire body tensed like you’d hit him with something physical. His jaw dropped a little. His eyes went wide — stunned — and then something deep, guttural escaped his chest, like the sound was ripped from him. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice breaking as his hand flew up to cover his mouth, like he was physically trying to hold back whatever that did to him.

You could see it — the way his stomach tightened, the way his cock twitched, visibly, painfully. His knees almost buckled.

"I'm gonna lose it..." he groaned.

He moved slowly, but with purpose — stepping back into your space, his hands curling tight around your thighs. He didn’t rush. Instead, he pressed himself against you—through the thin fabric of your panties—his desperate need to feel you flooding every inch of his body. The thick, hot head of his cock found the damp center of your panties, and you both sucked in a breath at the same time.

"A-Ahh—...Caleb–" you hitched sharply.

He let out a deep, broken groan as he rocked his hips forward — slowly, like he was trying to savor every millimeter of friction. The tip of his cock dragged along your soaked fabric, sliding right through the heat of your folds. He hissed, forehead falling against your shoulder, like the sensation alone had him unraveling again. His hand moved down to his own cock, fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, stroking hard and steady while he pressed himself into you.

“Your clit… fuck, it’s right here,” he whispered breathlessly, dragging the tip of his cock over the wettest spot he could find through the fabric.

You whimpered. He whimpered too, his control fraying with every slow stroke. Your body reacted instinctively, thrusting forward as if desperate to chase that burning touch, though you didn’t even understand how just panty-rubbing could fuck with your head this hard.

You couldn’t handle it. The urge to reach out, to pull him closer, to feel him pressed against you in a way that wasn’t just teasing, was unbearable. You let out a soft moan, your hands twitching, craving contact.

Caleb caught it immediately. Of course he did. He was watching your face more than anything in this world. It was always like that. Even when you two were still kids. He always wanted to catch every emotion, to know if you were scared, shy, uncomfortable — It became a habit of his own. Without hesitation, he shifted, moving over you until he was hovering, chest pressing down on yours gently, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

He kissed you fiercely, lips claiming yours in a hunger that matched the ache between your thighs. His hands slid down to your legs, wrapping around your thighs with a gentle grip.

“Squeeze your thighs for me,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with desperate need.

You looked at him strangely for a moment but without thinking about it for too long — you pressed your thighs together. And Caleb not wasting his time, guided himself between your legs — Slowly, carefully.

You saw his cock sliding out from between your thighs, looking straight at you, making your breath hitch. Your eyes flicked up at him as your teeth tortured your lower lip. He held your eyes as he began to thrust—not inside you, but between your thighs, grinding firm and steady. The fabric of your panties stretched and slickened under the pressure.

Caleb groaned deep in his throat. His hands roamed your body, holding at your hips as he continued to thrust between your thighs, hips rolling in needy circles, desperate for every inch of your warmth. His mouth claimed yours again, kissing fiercely, tongue exploring with a desperate hunger that matched the relentless grinding below.

“Gods—...you're so soft here pipsqueak..." he muttered over your lips as he pulled away to rest his sweaty forehead over yours.

You whined a little bit, trying to keep your noises mindful. Your eyes were locked down on your closed thighs. The sight of his hardness vanishing and reappearing between your plushy flesh was making your head spin.

"S-Squeeze them tighter..." he choked out, your eyes flicked up to his face, watching it closely.

You clenched your thighs harder, grinding up a bit to help his cock catch onto your clothed folds better. And when you did that — the look on his face was absolutely everything. His face scrunched in pleasure, eyebrows drew up together, he looked as if he was about to cry — at least.

It was that easy for you to make him lose his mind.

”Shiiiit...Just like that—Good girl.” the nickname made something ugly churn in your stomach. He used to call you that earlier. Many times. Like when you got a good grade on your test, or when you achieved something he knew you could do. But now? It was an entirely different thing — and it made you mewl.

”You're making so much noise pips, you're some kind of pervert?...” he chuckled softly, even though his breath was ragged and he was clutching his self control tightly.

"S-Shut up..." you squirmed, your hand pushing at his shoulder.

”Don't get your panties in a twist pipsqueak...I always knew you liked when I called you that — You used to be fishing for my praise, y'know?...”

"I-I wasn't—"

"You were. No need to hide it pips...I think it was cute — it still is, if you ask me..." he snorted softly, laughing through his nose.

Then he groaned, his hips speeding up in it's moves. Your sweaty thighs slapping together.

"Ah...Fuck...” he hissed, taking a shaky inhale.

”You know, pipsqueak...I think, that you've always liked my attention on you.”

His hand sank down, to press himself better over your underwear as he fucked your thighs. You whined, and he smiled. Fucker.

”When you were younger you always found your way to have my eyes on you. You were pinching me, biting, kicking, stealing my stuff, showing off...” he huffed, his eyes closing as he tried to keep himself at the bay.

”But now when you got older, you understood some things...You know what I mean, yeah?"

You squirmed as the head of his cock firmly rubbed over your center with each thrust.

"N-No—"

”You know.”

He leaned down to your ear, placing a hot kiss over it.

”When you started to understand how to rile me up in a much better way — Like...You stopped wearing a bra whenever I was around. Those teasing touches when we would watch a movie together. When you—Ah...Shit—When you would tickle me because you knew I wouldn't put my hands on you anymore....You can tell yourself that you didn't know what you were doing, but deep down you know you wanted me to notice. You're not stupid, and i'm not stupid either.”

”Caleb—” a shiver rippled down your spine as he murmured into your ear. Not only from how close he was, but because of how right he was. You were losing it fairly.

”You're not going to shy away now, are you?” he scoffed, his hips slapped foward, making noise. He let out a shaky moan.

"Fuck i'm so close already..." he muttered over your earlobe, your fingers tightened on his shoulder, your eyebrows drawing together, overwhelmed from the friction. He moved his thumb to press his tip strictly over you.

"Y-You feel, too good...I can— Feel...How wet you are...It's doing things to me that you won't understand.”

You let our a shaky breath and moved to wrap your arms around him. You needed him close in this moment, heart to heart. Your thighs started to tremble as he rubbed against you, that similar ache blooming deep inside you once more, it was all purely for him, only for him.

"Gonna cum baby?..." he caught onto it immediately, his efforts doubled.

You choked down a moan and nodded, your back arching subtly as you bucked up to meet his delicious movements.

"H-Hah...You gonna cum with me, okay?..." he breathed over your skin. Everything was becoming dizzy so fast. Your eyes closing, all of your senses heightened.

You felt — Everything

Starting from the way his ragged breath shook over your ear, how your slick with sweat bodies slid against eachother as if they were meant to be together, the squelching noises you two were creating, the subtle slaps that eachoed through the walls of your suffocating room when he pressed close. It was so much. It was beautiful, because it was you and him, just like it should always be.

You begin to feel a knot after knot, tying down in your abdomen. Your thighs clamp instinctively, you grip tighter around Caleb as if holding onto the very source of your rising pleasure. The friction builds relentlessly, a delicious torment that tightens your belly and curls your toes. You can feel the muscles deep inside your pussy, contracting and relaxing in an involuntary rhythm — trembling with the power of what’s coming.

Your breath hitches and stutters, uneven and quick, like you’re struggling to catch the air that keeps slipping away. Caleb's hands clutch at your hips, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to hold you close forever. His jaw clenches tight, muscles taut as he fights to keep himself together, but the heat is overwhelming—too intense to control. He breathes deeply against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut.

”Cum for me...P-Please cum for me..." he whines, his face contorting. He's almost there. And so are you.

Just as the wild surge of pleasure begins to shatter your control, your breath catching in ragged gasps, Caleb moves with urgent purpose — he closes the distance, his lips crashing over yours in a fierce, searing kiss that shuts down any cry before it can escape.

And there it is.

You squeeze your eyes shut, Caleb swallowing every single of your moan, and so you are his. Your whole vision went blank as your thighs shook off the stimulation. Pure bliss washing over your body.

You feel the wave of his own orgasm wash over him—hot, intense, overwhelming. His body shakes and his hips stutter — his essence spurting out over the place where you meet, a testament to the fire you’ve ignited together. He elongates the kiss before pulling back from your lips to catch his breath.

The silence afterward feels sacred. Caleb is still above you, but there’s no urgency now. His body is trembling, his chest still heaving, but his hands… his hands are soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t keep holding on.

And he kisses you. Once on your temple. Then your cheek. The corner of your lips. Reverent, unhurried. His touch glides from your hips to your stomach, slowing with each stroke, like he’s trying to calm your body and his at the same time.

“A-Are you okay?” he whispers finally, voice still hoarse with what just happened, but gentler

You don’t answer right away. Just a small nod, soft, but there’s that tiny smile — faint, tender, a little dazed — And it makes his heart melt.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the hem of his shirt up, tugging it off of him, careful not to disturb you. The fabric was soft against your skin as he pressed it lightly against your lower stomach, where a few stray marks of his release still glistened. His touch was delicate, almost hesitant, as if afraid to break the fragile quiet between you.

”I'm sorry i've made a mess...” he muttered

You shook your head to reassure him. ”We are even.”

He raised his eyes to you and a bashful smile blossomed on his face. He gently swiped the fabric across your skin, wiping away every trace with a tenderness that made your heart squeeze. It wasn’t just about cleaning—there was a sacredness in the way he cared for you, in how he always cared for you.

“I got you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You felt the weight of those three words, how much they meant for you, coming from him — gentle and devoted.

He discarded his dirty shirt somewhere on the floor without a care in the world. He reached beneath you, sliding his hands to the edges of your underwear. His fingers trembled just slightly as he carefully pulled them down your legs, his gaze never leaving your face. You feel no shame here, only a profound tenderness as he helps you shed the last remnants of the night’s intensity. He folded them neatly and set them aside — mentally noting to wash them tommorow. Then leaned down to kiss the soft curve of your hip, his lips warm and soothing against your skin.

He moved up, letting himself slump beside you. Intertwining your hands together — As if he has to know you're here, that you're not just a speck of his imagination. His thumb moved slowly over the back of your soft hand, he pulled it up to press a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

Your breathing slows in unison. The chaos of earlier melts into a soft hum beneath your skin. You don’t speak for a long moment, because there’s no pressure to fill the silence. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes when you’re held by someone who sees you—truly sees you—and stays anyway.

Eventually, Caleb lets out a quiet laugh.

“What?” you murmur, turning your head to look at his side profile.

“I don’t know,” he says, exhaling slowly. “I just… I feel like I waited forever for this. And now that it happened, I keep thinking I’ll wake up. Like maybe I fell asleep on the couch while you were ignoring me and now I’m dreaming the whole damn thing.”

You shift, lifting your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “You’re not dreaming, Caleb.”

He smiles, and it’s soft. His thumb traced the line of your knuckles. “If I was, though, I think I’d want to stay asleep.”

You nudge him playfully with your forehead. “That’s so corny.”

“Mm. You like it.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling either.

He leans in and kisses you again—not hungrily this time, but with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. His lips move slow, reverent, and he pulls away just to whisper, “You look like a mess right now.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Caleb, you meanie.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile and nuzzle yourself into his lips. With a small, content sigh, he slid his arm around you, tugging you gently closer until there’s no space left between you. You feel his heartbeat thrumming against your back, steady and strong, and it grounds you deeper than any words ever could.

”Can you stay in my room for tonight?” you hummed softly.

”I wasn't exactly planning on leaving, y'know” he murmured quietly, amusement tugging at his voice

”Good.” you smiled to yourself

You both sink deeper into the bed, the softness of the sheets a gentle cradle beneath you. His cheek rests against the top of your head, his breath tickling your hair, his heartbeat a lullaby only you can hear. Your eyelids grow heavy, and a calmness unlike anything you’ve felt before settles over you.

You've never felt more at peace than you did now.

Just before sleep can pull you two under, Caleb’s arms tighten just a little, holding you closer as if to reassure you that he's here.

”I love you.”

That little whisper was everything you ever ached to hear. You didn't realize it until this very moment.

...

”I love you too.”

And in that shared silence, wrapped together in warmth, you both drifted gently into dreams. In his arms, you feel safe. Loved. Whole.

...

And now?

Now the change you were so scared of — turned out to not be bad at all.

Now It felt — Like home.

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otaku553 · 1 year ago

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About Dreams

(Spade Pirate Sabo AU Masterpost)

Some more things happening on Sixis :) ft. Mr. Sabo “trust issues” Tage

I hope the banter came across as organic enough hhhhhhhhh I don’t really banter with my siblings too much haha. Constantly was just thinking about this with the second page:

We have maybe one or two more things to cover on Sixis that I have planned so we might be jumping around less from here. I’ve gotten a lot of questions on whether I’ll do the whole whitebeard situation and I Promise It’s Coming it’ll just be a while out

Something about the coloring this time! I don’t know how much people have noticed but I’ve been trying to use specific times of day for the main palettes of each of these comics! For this one the idea was sunset, when the sun is just barely visible over the horizon. I got to film the sunset over a beach at one point and it was gorgeous to me how one side of the sky was warm while the other had already fallen to night.

Especially since this comic deals so much with Tage’s secrets and the blurry line of what secrets he keeps intentionally vs. what secrets he doesn’t even know himself because of his amnesia i wanted there to be more dark blue in the sky. Eventually it settled on this sort of purplish blue that turned out kind of difficult to work with ^^;

Also! I finished reading the first part of the Ace novels! It’s such a time. Thinking now more about some of the clear differences between Deuce and Sabo that might be fun to explore in other comics :)

#spade pirate sabo au #portgas d ace #sabo #one piece #asl brothers

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good0eye0sniper · 4 days ago

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Okay I have some more comprehensive thoughts about Rapport now that I've slept on it...

- first thought is ART is a bit fucking scary!! I find it so fascinating how the difference in perspective to a third person/NOT MB (who can give a lot of insider information as another MI) lets us really see from a human perspective what Peri can do. Its ability to manipulate conversation and emotion is VERY advanced and the type of skynet shit I love because it's unsettling. Uncanny if you will.

I think the reason I've never gotten that feeling about Peri/ART before is partly because MB doesn't really care for or notice the intricacies of human interactions to the same degree. So its narration either wouldn't pick up on or wouldn't comment on ARTs practically dancing through human social cues to get its way. And partly of course because this spaceship is PINING and acting a fool about it.

- This brings me to observation #2 which is holy shit dude this spaceship is down so bad..."I met someone who taught me about trauma" and designing the deflector vests and learning about system infiltration and the drones and and and!!! Love as change and blah blah blah but it's so special to me their explicitly ace/qpr adjacent relationship being seen as so formative and important from both sides.

- IRIS. Iris is like the equivalent of a lion tamer for the giant eerily capable force that is also her sibling. If she was not there are Martyn and Seth equally capable of cutting through Peri's bullshit and seeing its emotions? If not I feel the relationship it would have with the crew overall would be less familiar and trusting. This novelette did an amazing job making me understand why she is Peri's favorite and why their relationship is so special. She is incredibly talented at infiltration and manipulation and it's clear she and Peri have developed that skill together. Girl is sharp as a tack and I appreciate her more than ever!

- Martha Wells the author that you are. I am consistently amazed by the humanity she can bring to very inhuman concepts and this shows she can also do the opposite. We got to see so much more of interpersonal interactions between the Perihelion crew members that are usually glossed over (MB doesn't particularly care to describe them I fear). I am impressed with how concisely and neatly she managed to convey this information in such a different POV than most of the series and how well it fits with the information we already have. Hats off to her fr

I think that's all for now but wow I definitely am having an emotion about that one. Imagine when the next full novel comes out I'll be intolerable.

#Murderbot #rapport #rapport spoilers #Murderbot spoilers #God they make me insane #I can have my more shippy rants in the tags #those computers want to live in each other's skin and I think that's beautiful #you knew each other for like no time from human perspective #but rapport tells us ART (and probably MB also) experience time differently #so how long. relatively. has ART spent thinking about its construct...#I'm chewing on them like a nylabone rn #my enrichment

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jyndor2 · 2 months ago

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I'm sorry, I do not want to be condescending or disrespectful to people who were more casual fans of rogue one, but it does not escape my notice that the initial response to this show before it aired was mostly "who asked for this???" so for those people, people who did not care a lick about cassian before the show, yeah of course they did not come in with expectations about who he is or the things he has to be and do in order to fit with a film that they don't really care much about.

for many of us who HAVE cared, who WERE ride or die for a cassian show from the moment it was announced, this has been an exercise in frustration and frankly even hurt. so when I say what I am about to say, it isn't because I think we are the only people whose opinions matter. but I am tired of being told since s1 aired that I just don't get what tony gilroy is trying to do, or that I am just a petty shipper, or that I lack media literacy which LMFAO. and I am also aware that my love of this character and the film has absolutely colored my feelings about the show - which I think is probably a better watch for people who did not come into the show knowing or caring about cassian andor as a character.

I understand what gilroy was trying to do. I think he was very successful with s1 even if I didn't like the choices he made for cassian's backstory. but s2 is a different story, and I think the show failed to deliver on what was setup by the first season but more importantly by the film. rogue one is about love - same as andor. the different kinds of love that exist between people, that people have for their communities and for all living beings. the idea of a revolution, to rogue one/andor, is beyond just hating the oppressor - but loving the oppressed, and having a clear understanding of what is to be done to build a brighter future.

this is why the relationship between jyn and cassian in rogue one is the HEART of the film. full stop. whatever the end result (which is of course what matters the most) this was a central part of the story very early on in development of the film, and it also is present in so many of the supplemental works - including in official art, in comics, and of course the novelization.

basically at one point in development, the character who ends up cassian andor is an isb spy who is in a relationship with rebel soldier jyn erso, and only when he sees what happens at jedha (probably jedha, may have been called something else at that point but i don't remember, this is all off the top of my head) does he become a true rebel. at another point, the film ends with jyn and cassian escaping scarif, and then there is a wedding, presumably theirs in the future. of course this ends up getting scrapped because lucasfilm lets the writers kill off everyone at the end, but that doesn't mean that jyn and cassian do not have a romantic element to their relationship.

jyn and cassian are loosely named after the original legends characters who get the death star plans - jan ors and kyle katarn, who are romantically involved.

multiple people involved in the film have said there is probably a kiss that was filmed in the elevator. diego luna was always VERY clear even through andor s1 press that jyn erso was at the very least extremely important to cassian (and back in the day he even said they'd be together and selling fridges lmfao), was his mirror and someone that he felt a serious connection with. diego and felicity clearly played their dynamic as romantic, even if nothing ever happened between their characters because they did not have the time.

the novelization by alexander freed is FULL of clear romantic subtext and outright text especially from cassian's pov. absolutely none of this makes it canon that they WOULD have gotten together had they lived, but it does show an intention that existed for almost as long as the characters did in development - that jyn and cassian's story is a love story, and that it is a love story that ends before it can really begin. that is the tragedy of rogue one - these are people who finally find their home (all of them, not just jyn and cassian, in the cause) and they have to die to save that home. and also it is their home because they WOULD die for it - for the rebellion.

though rebelcaptain has one of the most intimate scenes i have ever seen in star wars (the elevator scene) it is not physically intimate. so to many people that means it's not romantic. which is a shame because it's such a beautiful moment of emotional vulnerability, where these two people finally have a quiet place to just be together, to let all their walls down and belong, but since people are fucking idiots now they think cassian is wishing jyn was ANYONE else lmfao

but that doesn't change the reality of how beloved rebelcaptain is. rebelcaptain immediately inspired so much from the fans - for a mf ship to get as much love as it does to this day is a real testament to how much it is loved by fans. over 5k fanfics on ao3 for a niche non-explicitly canon mf ship is wild. it's the 7th most written about ship on ao3 for all of star wars media. again, for a ship in ONE movie.

of course, a prequel was never going to make jyn and cassian's relationship canon before they even meet. still it is a core part of rogue one and as such I would expect it to haunt the narrative of andor, which it does to some extent, especially in the first season but also in the second. this is not my issue with the show at all because again i understand where they are going with it.

my frustrations with the show are not about cassian having a committed relationship with someone else either. arguably that could have done a lot to move his character to the man who we see in rogue one - and to me it didn't all that well imo because the show doesn't treat cassian andor as if he is an established character with established motivations that we have known for almost TEN years.

my problem is that the show spends more time and energy building up a wonderful ensemble and doing pretty great plot for THEM than it does building cassian into the man we see in rogue one. it wastes too much time in s2 doing a whole lot of nothing, actual nothing, when it needs to be GIVING us what we need. not just what we want. meaning, if you are going to make the case that cassian is talking out of his ass on eadu, you better make that case well - or it won't fucking work.

SHOW us your work, gilroy. don't just tell the audience that cassian is suddenly a great leader, we need to SEE IT. i believe he is but the show does not give any real evidence for it.

it's storytelling 101 - show, don't tell. and considering this is CASSIAN'S backstory, it's a cardinal sin for so much of the development of cassian's core motivations in rogue one to be afterthoughts told to us offhandedly.

an egregious example of this is his relationship with bix.

in a single film, we see more evidence as to why cassian and jyn are so well suited to one another - be it as partners in the rebellion, as friends and/or as potential lovers - than we see of cassian and bix in the entire show. i do not say this to disrespect bixcass shippers, you do you boo, but because honestly I believe this is part of a fundamental problem with andor.

because I actually think the intention of the show is to make that point to us - that bix and cassian are NOT well suited to one another, that they may each be someone that the other WANTS to love, but they are not who they NEED. but I don't think the show gives this the time and attention it deserves.

we are told that bix and cassian are exes in s1, and we see that they broke up because of various incompatibilities - cassian running off and being inconsistent, cassian prioritizing his own needs and wants over bix's, cassian not being open to emotional vulnerability, bix wanting a normal life with a normal guy, etc. no matter how clear it was to me that they had unresolved emotions between them, it was also clear that one of them was always going to hold the other back.

s1 has the room to breathe but also isn't trying to overcome these issues. that is why their friendship, their dynamic, in s1 works on multiple levels - even if I do not ship them - because the show isn't trying to push aside their issues in s1. the first season sets up multiple paths: one that is two first loves who romantically reconnect after a period of personal growth, and one that is two first loves who find that they are better off as friends because their incompatibilities would not be sustainable under the weight of building a revolution. both of which, in order to line up properly with rogue one, would have to end in great tragedy of some sort. not necessarily fridging, but a separation or complete severing of ties because their GOALS ARE NOT THE SAME. not necessarily their goals for the rebellion, although the show does make that clear, but their PERSONAL goals.

it seems as though the show understands this too. the problem comes down to s2 not having the time to explore some very important foundational parts of this supposedly central relationship - or the interest in doing so either.

we do not see them reconnect, which is whack. so not only do we not see how their first teen romance worked (we are just told about cassian sneaking into bix's room lmao) but we also do not see how they fall back in love. because I'm sorry, love is a choice. love is an active thing we must work for. it is not easy, especially in conflict. we see how not easy it is between them once they have already committed to each other, but we do not see WHY they made the choice to rebuild their relationship with one another again, or HOW.

yes, cassian saves bix at the end of s1. okay? bix is deeply traumatized, and we never really see her deal with it. no, the girlboss 2015 era bad bitch coruscant blowout does not count. we also do not see cassian deal with literally any of his traumas either, but we don't see him deal with much.

it seems as though they get back together because they feel like they SHOULD - okay, well then show us WHY. this is supposed to be the heart of the show, right? well show me why that heart beats.

because what I see is cassian and bix fighting, being unwilling to let the other make choices for themselves (bix especially but cassian is guilty of this too) and bix basically reverting to a version of herself we never see in s1, which is a docile, tea-making housewife. cool cool but WHY?? where has it ever been established that bix caleen wants to be a homemaker? that CASSIAN wants that in a partner??

in fact, in the first fucking episode of s1, cassian EXPLICITLY mocks timm for picking a woman who is unruly and rebellious. that moment establishes that cassian understands bix will never be passive, it is not in her nature, and that he doesn't WANT her to be. he thinks timm is a bad match for her because of timm's own preferences for a partner being kind of incompatible with who cassian understands bix to be.

and yet - am I supposed to believe that bix's traumas have changed that core part of her? that a woman who chooses the rebellion is content with not doing ANYTHING? with tea making???

not only is this strike three for tony gilroy passifying a rebellious woman in some way for another character's story (jyn erso, cinta kaz and now bix caleen) it is also totally hard for me to buy because it's not even EXPLORED.

WHY does bix spend her time doing very little (except of course all the stuff she does earlier on offscreen apparently)??? WHY is the rebellion not utilizing her very important skillset (comms and mechanics) when the same revolutions that gilroy has clearly studied so much for this story would have made her very, very useful?

as I said earlier, I think the show makes a decent case for why they ultimately are incompatible. in the end, it comes down to a lack of trust that the other will do the right thing. bix leaves cassian (when she is pregnant; clearly the baby is meant to be cassian's) to go back to the place where she was sexually assaulted for Reasons because she is "choosing the rebellion" but what she is really choosing is to raise a child that cassian would probably want to know about without him even being aware of their existence.

what she is choosing is to not distract cassian from ~his destiny~ which lmao okay sure whatever but GIRLFRIEND you should not have to make that choice. you should trust that he is committed to this ideal you believe so strongly in that you are willing to leave everything behind for good.

because the truth is that yes, bix says that she'll find him someday, and yes, cassian thinks he'd like to find her someday too, but the truth is that this is a betrayal. this is a partner not only forcing the hand of someone they love for an ideal they both supposedly believe in, but also taking away the choice of the partner to have any say in whether or not he has a relationship with a baby that he helped create lmfao. of course a woman has no obligation to involve the genetic father in a baby's life but it's clear that we are supposed to think this is an act of love on bix's part, but... i'm sorry, bix seems to understand (like cassian) that there really is no likely future for their relationship. so if anything, it is selfish. okay. cool, then why is the final scene shot in a way that makes it look sweet and hopeful??? lmfao it looks insane because it IS an insane thing for a person to do.

and am I supposed to believe that cassian and bix would be having unprotected sex during a war???? with their traumas of losing their parents young????? sorry its always been a no for me with rebelcaptain and its a no period.

cassian, who has had his choices taken from him all his life, has this choice taken too - and fuck no I do not get with that, especially not when bix was not forced to do any of this. she CHOSE to leave cassian at his most vulnerable, after witnessing a genocide, something he himself is a survivor of, in order to keep him in the rebellion? girl bye

cassian is overprotective of her to a fault, and it gets them into fights. after her girlboss moment does she even do anything for the rebellion besides "choose" the rebellion for cassian? i literally do not remember a second of her doing anything besides pouring tea and yapping.

so we do not see her recover from her traumas, but we are to assume that she's better now because she tortured her torturer. okay cool, that COULD have been an interesting way to show the audience that revenge does not heal, and certainly not using the pain and suffering of oppressed children to do so will not heal. this could have played into cassian telling jyn to leave krennic at the end of the film, juxtaposing the way he led bix to harming herself further with the way that he asked jyn to spend their last moments together, free from the taint of an easy kill when he knew it was likely krennic wasn't gonna make it.

nope instead we get absolutely nothing. bix suddenly seems okay! great, cool but how did she go from drug addled and struggling with ptsd to beautiful sexy housewife who just so happens to never do anything with any of her skills again from that point?

and that does not serve cassian's story at all. it doesn't even serve her own.

one thing the show does well for her is how it handle's bix's assault. but again, this is how tony gilroy radicalizes bix, as if being tortured by the audio of oppressed murdered children is not enough. there's another avenue for her radicalization: in the first episode, timm mentions a wobani job. meaning bix and timm are working with the prisons (aka labor camps aka concentration camps) for her business. okay well imagine what it would be like to realize that you've been directly profiting off of a system that your friend/lover was enslaved by???

bix as an undocumented woman of course IS of course at risk, and it isn't wrong to show us what that means. the show does make a point of exposing how at risk marginalized women are - from kerri possibly being at the brothel to the way the imperials speak about the dhani women to bix's assault, it's a part of the story and i have no problem with it.

but the purpose was to radicalize her. and what is the purpose in radicalizing bix? to force cassian into serving the rebellion.

even though by then, cassian should be BEYOND committed.

and it's not even something he gets to confront, not really. while it seems to me that they both know their relationship is done for good, while the show seems to recognize that bix was out of pocket for that, why then the image of bix with baby??? why make it seem like she did something good for cassian?

i know, i know. legacy. but i'm sorry that's a legacy that cassian has no ties to but blood. and that's just genetics. not relation, not choice, not family. not necessarily.

it would have made far more sense to show a scene of what cassian was running TO - maybe to jyn, which would have made sense given the shot of saw, but also maybe to bodhi and galen, maybe to anything but what who left him behind and what he was always supposed to LEAVE behind in order for the show to stick the landing.

#rogue one #andor critical #andor spoilers #star wars andor #cassian andor #meta #long post #sorry yall #anti-bixcassian #for tags even though i dont even mean it in a mean way but #rebelcaptain

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harukyuu2 · 3 months ago

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+:ꔫ:﹤ O-one more time! - Mogari Shishikuno﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ

!! - First kisses with this boyy <3, small scenario, gn reader, i love him, pls dont take it as suggestive (didnt mean to write it like that😭), silly guy discovers kisses and becomes obsessed

ꔫ - After another succeeding mission with the club, you decided to spend the night in the haunted apartment of Mogari. Why? Because he hurted himself fighting the ghost and he might have dramatized it a little so you would worry for him and in fact, take care of him in the night! (Stupid plan recommended by Zaki, probably inspired in a romantic novel.)

With the dinner ready, the conversation never stopped. Between laughs and the distance closing for itself between you two, you ended up feeding the injured boy. His head on your lap as you bringed bites of the food into his mouth, he opened it eagerly and always made the "aah" sound for you, he teased you once or two with the possibility of bitting you— but he wouldnt, he couldnt hurt you.

"Mogari! Stop it!" - You drawl with a whine when his fangs brushed against your fingers, they were pretty sharp in reality!

He leaved a laugh, that stupid grin never leaving his face "Alright, alright! Dont get mad! I like this..." - He murmured the last part.

Did the other members knew that it become something normal between you two that you feed him while he rest his head on your lap? ...Probably not. But did they knew that Mogari was ten times clingier with you and was always looking around to find you? Yeah— they are tired that he doesnt confess.

It was weird of him, well— he was weird already for lots of people, but its actually weird seeing him so...soft more than his usual goofy side. Mogari hummed, his lips staying more than necessary on your fingers as you landed another bite. A silence formed between you two, even if it was comfortable— it was unusual for Mogari to just shut up around you, what was he thinking of?

"Its weird of you to stay silent, could it be that someone isnt enjoying the food?" - You jokingly said, for a split second you saw him a little serious, but keeping that softness before he leaves a snort— not a complete laugh.

"You should kill me if one day i dont enjoy your food!" - He simply responds, evading your gaze once again, even his answers were too short.

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise. You had already told yourself a dozen times that this was weird— Mogari never stayed this calm, or this silent, or looked like he was deep in thought.

You were about to ask him what was wrong, but your gaze connected with his, and he was quicker to speak without thinking—almost as if he was going to say something else but accidentally blurted out something different.

"I love you." - Mogari says breaking the silence, surprising even himself since you noticed how his eyes widened with yours.

At your shocked silence, Mogari thought he fucked up and made you uncomfortable— well, of course! How could you feel the same when his moves were always doing stupid shit around you? From what Eugene told him, people usually try to flirt— but he's really bad on that. He sitted on the bed quickly, almost hitting your head with his as he rubbed his neck nervously, he felt exposed.

"Ah-! Sorry, you know how i am! Ha, ha...! i was joking, trying something i saw on internet— i feel good! i mean, why i wouldnt i—" - You inturrupted his nonsense blurt pressing a soft kiss into his lips, he wouldnt stop talking if you didnt do that.

It was soft, clumsy— at first he freezed not knowing how to correspond, until Mogari just melted against you. Time passed more slowly, it felt like a fever dream— how did you two even manage to do this so quickly? Seconds ago, kissing looked like something far from now, but here you are, kissing the dummy boy you like. Neither of you questioned the quick way you two got to kiss, that small confession— a wrong move coming from a nervous Mogari, gived him this lovely consequence of getting a kiss, in his silent bedroom...He hopes its not a dream.

Mogari didnt give you much space every time your lips separated; he stayed just a breath away from yours, only to quickly dive back after murmuring a soft "One more time" not even giving you the chance to answer. He loved it. He had never had a girlfriend before— kisses were something completely new to him, and they were delicious... addictive, even. He wanted to learn; he was eager to keep kissing you— trying to figure out whether you preferred quicker kisses or slower ones, deep or soft ones. Honestly, by now, he thought he liked every kind of kiss... as long as they were with you.

Mogari continued it eagerly, totally forgetting his act of being badly injured, his bandaged arms coming to pin you against the mattress without a bad intention. Once he separated, totally out of breath, you leaved a laugh at his half-lidded gaze

"Werent you injured loverboy?" - You ask with a teasing expression, your eyebrow questioning his false act even if your cheeks were just as red as his.

Mogari blinked surprised, seeing his bandaged arm for a moment before grinning at you for getting caught in his stupid act. He leaned down to brush his nose against you, an eskimo kiss. "Well, dont people say kisses are magical and heal everything? I guess thats what happened!" - He jokingly said, but you could notice how soft he got compared to his usual energetic side He sighed, and a small silence passed between the two of you once again before he looked at you intently, his eyes shining in the darkness.

Murmuring into the calmness of the night, as if it were a secret meant for you and only you, one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, already guiding you slowly toward his lips.

"Can we kiss one more time...?"

#mogari shishikuno x reader #mogari shishikuno #phantom busters #phantom busters x reader #mogari x reader #shishikuno mogari

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monstersandgenderqueers · 3 months ago

Text

Little Gifts (Part Two)

So the first gift didn't work. You cross your fingers and hope for the best with the second gift, your heart aching as you wonder if Loki's dislike for you is personal or if he just really, really hates gifts.

Pairing: Loki x neurodivergent!reader (he/him and she/her for Loki in this chapter)

Word count: 2419

Previous | Masterlist | Next

A/N: I couldn't sleep last night because of this. Oof. Anyways...

Divider credit @/saradika

You don't have to wait very long before finding out whether Loki accepted your gift or not.

After opening all of your curtains, you're briefly disappointed to see dark clouds looming heavily over the compound. The feeling goes away quickly, though, in favor of thoughts of spending the day inside to catch up on all that you'd neglected the day before. You get dressed into something decent and comfortable and walk to the kitchen, with a spring in your step.

Sitting between you and your coffee is Loki. He has his legs crossed and a whole pot of tea on the table beside him, with a steaming mug in one hand and a book, your book, in the other.

Based on his progress, he must've been reading for hours already. That giddy feeling bubbles up again, and you clench your fists to restrain the urge to flap your hands like a little bird trying to fly away for the very first time.

You fail to hold back the slight whine, which alerts him to your presence.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, his brows scrunched and raised in the way that sends a fresh wave of fluttery feelings. He waits patiently for your answer, staring at you in a way that's softer than his usual glares.

"Uhm… no, not really," you quietly reply, fidgeting with your hands to redirect the urge to stim.

"Are you certain? You are usually asleep at this hour."

You glance at the kitschy clock just above the espresso machine. It is indeed early, only half past six. "Oh… I didn't notice." Maybe that's why it seemed so dark when you woke up…

Wait, he notices when I usually wake up?

He interrupts your thinking, "Having trouble staying asleep?"

"Yeah, I guess so," you want to say more, much more, but the words in your head are all tangled up, and the way he looks at you is making it much, much worse. You clear your throat and make your coffee, trying to ignore the new weird feeling that pops up when he turns in his seat to watch you. It's tingly and warm.

You try your hand at small talk. "So… uhm… what are you reading?" you ask, as if you don't know.

"A fantasy novel," he briefly looks at the cover, "a gift from a secret admirer, it seems."

"A-admirer?"

Oh no… does he think I have a crush on him? I don't, obviously, so I can't let him think that…

He continues, "Yes, an admirer. I cannot imagine anyone purposefully giving me something with such precious thoughts engraved inside, unless they craved intellectual intimacy."

Your brain stops for a second. Can he hear your heart stutter?

Drat, I should've just gotten him a new copy. I thought it would be nice to give him one with all of my ideas, it'd be really nice to hear his, too…

What the heck is intellectual intimacy?

However, you can't deny how the warmth gets more intense the more you think about Loki touching the book you held so dearly before, and him reading what is essentially a diary embedded between the lines of a story.

Unfortunately for you, the feeling doesn't feel the same as embarrassment. It's… familiar, but so uncommon that you can't name it.

He chuckles quietly behind you, making your ears heat up faster than the water in the Keurig.

You're not brave enough to turn around yet, but you find the will to string together a sentence. "Do you like the book so far?"

The chair creaks as he shifts his weight. You turn to look at him, as is polite when talking with someone, but you whip your head back around when you see him staring at you.

The brief glimpse you got was enough. He must've done something different with his hair… you swear it didn't use to look so long and curly and luxurious. It falls over his shoulders and down his chest elegantly, shiny against the black knit sweater he's wearing.

He's so pretty.

You squeak as if startled by your own thoughts, and realize you had been so absorbed in the way he looks that you didn't notice him speaking.

"...thoughts are quite humorous and stimulating."

You grab your coffee and hold the mug in your hands close to your chest, almost like a shield that prevents him from seeing how hard your heart beats in your chest.

"Hm? Whose thoughts?"

"The person who wrote in this book. I am unsure whether it is actually the person who gave it to me, though, since the Captain made me aware of 'secondhand' bookshops not too long ago. I doubt a book like this could be sold, though, which leads me back to the theory of a secret admirer," he says slowly and clearly, almost like he wants you to understand something that he did not say.

Hm. You don't remember writing anything particularly funny. Most of your notations were related to other things you had read, making connections that helped you remember the story as you read it. History and mythology, mostly, and sometimes your own experiences.

Oh. Is he making fun of me? Are my ideas silly? Giving that book to him was a bad idea. I'm so dumb.

You look at everything but him as you respond, "Oh. Okay. Uhm… good luck? I think I'll just go back to my room…" You hope that was the right thing to say, enough to dismiss what he could potentially be implying.

You see his disappointment for a brief moment before you walk swiftly out of the kitchen and away from him, holding the mug tightly even though it's getting far too hot for your hands.

Several days pass before you're strong enough to stay in the same vicinity as Loki. You try to make it not obvious, like quickly grabbing something from the kitchen and leaving, if he was there, or pretending you forgot you had a meeting in a few minutes if he sat down on the sofa you frequently lounge on. Your hard work paid off—he doesn't stare at you so intensely anymore.

Your luck had to run out sometime, though. The moment you step outside, ready to go for a jog, Thor calls out your name and waves you over to where he's standing with Loki. "Come! We're going into town!"

"But I'm—"

"Ah, but you promised!" he says, still smiling. He pats Loki a bit hard on the back, "my brother could use some time away from the compound." Loki glares at him, but Thor continues, "he's been moping around the last few days. Come along?"

He phrased it like a question, but you know Thor would find some way to drag you along. "Uhm… okay. Just let me get something nicer to wear—"

"Nonsense! What you're wearing is fine." Thor nudges Loki again, prompting him to say something.

Loki looks you up and down before he replies monotonously, "Yes. You look fine." Some of the edge in his features leaves, the sharpness of his jawline softening ever so slightly.

You know you don't have your wallet, just your phone and earbuds, but maybe that'll be enough for whatever the brothers have planned. "Okay, then."

Moments later, a black car pulls up. Thor glances at Loki and then takes his seat next to the driver. Loki rolls his eyes, looking peeved at something that Thor did that you didn't quite catch.

He opens the car door for you, making you hesitate before you step in and buckle up. "Than—" he slams the door shut before you can finish, walking around to open the opposite door and take his seat. Thor laughs very quietly, but you hear it anyway, wondering what's so amusing.

Although the car is definitely big enough for two adults to sit comfortably in the back seat, you can still feel his presence. Being so near to Loki makes the hairs on your arms raise, though it isn't unpleasant. It feels closer to the warm tingly sensation you've started to have whenever you're near him.

Don't think about it. Maybe it'll go away? Like dizziness?

Loki stares out the window the entire ride to town, speaking only short, clipped sentences when responding to Thor.

You don't really pay attention to their conversation, your own thoughts proving to be quite a distraction.

Why do I feel the same around Loki as I did around my crush in high school? I felt all warm and tingly and giddy when he sat next to me in class, like—

Oh. Well, that explains a lot, doesn't it? This realization makes the remainder of the car ride far worse than when it started. Each mile feels like it takes eons to cover, and you're more aware of Loki than you ever were before.

He shifts his hips slightly to get more comfortable, and it makes your heart jolt and your eyes dart over. His hands are folded on his lap, and you admire the shape of them before you catch Thor staring at you, twisted in his seat with a cheshire-like grin. You look away, heat crawling up your neck and your cheeks. You sink deeper into your seat, and hope that Thor isn't a mindreader. Or Loki, for that matter.

You step out of the car and wait next to Thor for Loki. Looking over, you're startled to see a woman stepping out of the car in Loki's place. You glance at Thor, and he doesn't seem phased whatsoever.

Oh. It's just Loki.

Whether Loki's shifted to remain undisturbed while out in public, or for gender expression, you keep quiet and give Loki a tiny little smile.

"Come along little mortal, sister," Thor says, leading the way. You trail behind the siblings, starting to realize that Thor is up to something. His hushed whispers in Loki's direction and his indiscreet backwards glances towards you are enough to tip you off.

After a few blocks of walking around the downtown area, Thor finds a bench under the shade of an oak tree, and sits with his arms across the top.

"Uhm… is this where we're supposed to be going? I thought it was, like, a shopping trip…" you say, wringing your hands.

"Ah, yes. I thought you could show Loki around the bookshops here. She finished a novel this morning and lamented her boredom and frustration. An intrepid reader like yourself should be able to find something for Loki to devour."

Something about the way he phrased it makes your heart race. "Yeah, sure…"

You meander to the store you've been to dozens of times already, looking back a couple of times to make sure that Loki is following you. She is, quickly glancing away from you whenever you turn.

The doors to the store swing open as a couple walks out. They smile at you and Loki as the two of you walk inside. You try to smile back, but it looks more like a grimace. Loki must've noticed, because she suddenly appears mirthful.

"So… what books are you looking for?"

She came prepared. Pulling out a list from her pocket, she hands it to you. "Do you think they'll have any of these here?"

You look down and read her elegant scrawl, recognizing each and every title. It's a list of books you had cited in your many written ramblings in the book you gave her. "Oh… I'm not sure if they'll have these exact books, but—"

She lets out a great, dramatic sigh and tears the list from your hand. "I knew this was a silly idea," she says under her breath, tucking a raven curl behind her ear. Making brief eye contact with you, she draws together her brows in the way that makes your stomach flip each and every time.

"We can still look. I don't mind," you say, already heading towards the mythology section. Since she still has the list, and you can't quite remember the authors, you let her look over the endless rows of books. You do some browsing of your own, but for your own new interests. You pick up a couple of books, but then your mind switches gears.

Standing next to her, you get her attention with a tiny uhm, "May I ask you a personal question?"

She nods, her fingers briefly trailing the length of a book's spine in a very distracting way.

"So…" you pause, thinking of how to phrase this. "Since Thor's been calling you his sister, does that mean you feel that way today?"

Her icy eyes meet yours. This time, you don't look away. Her gaze feels warmer than usual, though they're still sharp and calculating.

"Yes," she replies shortly, as if she's unsure of your intentions.

"Oh. Okay. Just wondering. You're very lucky, I think."

She does the brow thing again. "Lucky? In what way?"

"You can just… be yourself. Whenever you want."

She looks like she wants to refute your statement, but she says instead, "Are you not?"

"Not really, no. I mean, lots of people can just be themselves, but not just on a whim or anything…"

Your mind wanders, thinking of the piercings and tattoos and other, more body-altering modifications you've seen or wanted for yourself. You must've been thinking for quite a long time, because Loki clears her throat and taps your shoulder.

"Going off on a tangent in your mind, again?"

"Huh? Oh… sorry."

"It's quite alright, little one. The face you make when you're thinking so deeply is quite endearing."

Before you can even begin to process what she just said, she's already around the corner, a stack of books in her arms as she presumably walks to the register. It takes another second or two to realize the books you were looking at were no longer in your hands.

You catch up to her just as she's paying for the books. "You don't have to get those…"

"Nonsense, dear. Besides, you forgot your wallet again, correct?"

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting to—again? How often do I forget my wallet?"

"Quite often, sweetheart. I've witnessed you run back inside the compound all the way to your room to retrieve it on plenty of occasions."

The fluttery feeling is back, soaring up up up and making your heart skip quite a few beats.

She looks at you like she knows something you don't as she pays for the books.

"Come, little one. Thor's waiting."

#loki x gender neutral reader #loki x gn!reader #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x male reader #loki #ff: gifts #loki fanfiction #loki x you

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gyuzgrl · 1 year ago

Text

Look at me ||kmg||

Summary- when your boyfriend surprises you with a new haircut, you can't help but want to jump his bones. You'd die before letting him know that though, ugh.

You were utterly fucked.

The moment Mingyu walked in, tired and sweaty from rehearsals, sporting a fresh haircut, you wanted nothing more than to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into a kiss.

You were on the couch, as usual, reading some novel- now hastily discarded on the coffee table- when you heard your door open. It was Mingyu, obviously, and your face lit up at the realization. Like an eager puppy, you perked up at the sound of his keys jangling in the door frame.

"baby, I'm home" he called out, hanging up his coat as he walked in, eyes immediately finding your own. He donned a navy basketball cap, one you'd seen him wear very often.

You giggled, jogging over to him before burying your face in his chest- his arms came around to settle at your waist. "missed you"

"I know, I'm here now, hm?" His voice soothed its way into you, and suddenly the world was good. Nothing mattered except you and him, nothing mattered except home.

"whatcha readin' there," his eyes flickered briefly to the novel you'd flung onto the table in a rush, "same as last night?"

"hm, same one"

You pulled away from his embrace, arms settling around his neck now. Finally, you looked up at his face. Something was different.

"hold on-" your hand gently lifted the cap off his head when you noticed how his face stood out more than it did before, "oh my god"

"oh my god, good, or oh my god, bad?"

"good- so good" you mumble, staring at his now freshly cut hair. Mingyu had traded the long hair for a sleek French crop- a refreshing change. You loved his long hair but god did he look good with shorter hair. The faded sides brought out features that were previously hidden by his hair- his tan skin, his eyes, his jawline. You felt your skin heat up under his observing eyes. Had it always felt so intense when he looked at you?

"m'glad you like it" he grins.

You clear your throat. Your arms slip back down to your sides.

"yeah, uh- you should shower, I'll take care of dinner today, kay?"

"I thought I was sup-"

"you've had a long day gyu," you cut him off, ushering him to the bathroom to get him out of your sight.

"you're the best"

Nope. I'm a filthy, filthy woman who can't think past getting laid. If you knew what I wanted to do to you right this moment, you'd call the cops.

"pfft, damn right I am" you quipped, shoving your thoughts aside.

Alright, out of sight, out of mind. Mingyu had disappeared into the shower, and you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a pot as you skillfully dumped a bunch of ingredients in. Nothing like a hot bowl of rice and stew to get your mind out of the gutter.

Or so you thought.

As you tossed the veggies around, spatula in one hand while the other rested at your hip, your mind drifted to Mingyu. Realization hit you like a truck and your eyes widened. He was naked right now. Naked and wet and probably soapy. His hair would be wet too. Fuck he probably looked sinful right now. You could practically see him standing in front of you- skin glistening, biceps flexing as he washed himself. The image had you weak, and an all too familiar heat spread between your legs.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

The hiss of kimchi- dangerously close to being burnt- caught your attention, snapping you out of your thoughts. You startled back to reality and added a dash of water to revive the spicy mixture. Diverting all your attention to cooking, you sped through the active parts of the recipe- chopping, stirring, frying- and sighed in content when all that was left was for the stew to come to a boil. As you carefully placed the lid over the now steaming pot, you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around your waist.

"hi" Mingyu's voice was breathy and low. He dipped his head into your neck innocently, taking in your scent.

"hi" Your own breathlessness surprised you.

"thank you for making dinner," his hands squeeze tighter around you.

"c'mon you'd do it for me"

Trying to ignore the way his skin heated up your back, you made a lame effort to get him away.

"hey- uh, you should- you wanna put on some music?" you stumble over your words.

"sure, what do yo-"

"anything" you interrupt, too quickly for him to not get suspicious.

Mingyu raises a brow at you but decides to keep his mouth shut. Slowly, he walks over to the speaker lying on your table and connects it to his phone. You can hear his footsteps as he makes his way back to you- speaker in hand.

He sets the speaker on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, before tapping away at his phone. Soft r&b floods the kitchen and you wonder if you've done something to upset the universe. Mingyu's arms find their way back to your waist as he settles behind you.

You can't get upset. You can't. He asked you what to play. You said anything.

"anything I can do?" he asks, voice muffled by the skin of your neck.

"no I-" you let out a shaky breath, "I'm waiting for it to boil- it's almost done"

"so why're you staring at it like it'll burn if you look away for a second"

"I'm not sta-" Mingyu spins you around, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter.

"c'monn, gimme some attention," he mumbles, eyes burning holes into you, "you haven't so much as looked at me properly today"

"I-" you start, feeling your throat close up at the sight of his freshly showered frame.

Grey sweatpants. No shirt. Wet hair. Smash.

"you?"

"I'm looking at you right now, aren't I?"

Your eyes dart between his face and the space between your bodies, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. He scoffs, leaning closer,

"look at me"

He hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. You have no choice but to meet his gaze and boy does it burn.

"what's up with you today, hm?"

"nothing"

"puppy, c'mon you're so jittery, tell me why"

The name sends chills down your spine. A feather-soft touch ghosts over your cheek, the pads of Mingyu's fingers stroking free strands of hair behind your ears. His hand lingers around the shell of your ear for a while, before he sighs.

"I just," you whisper, "uh, the um- stew- oh fuck the stew's boiling"

He groans as you wriggle out of his touch, now turning back to the stove. Mingyu moves to scoop rice into two bowls while you bring the pot to the coffee table, settling on the warm rug below.

"thanks" he mumbles.

You eat in silence.

Every movement on his end has you jumping out of your skin. You're aware now, that he's caught on. He's been staring at you all this while. You've been too scared to meet his gaze. When he leans forward to nab the last spoon of stew, you jolt upright with a small squeak.

"I'll clear up-" you begin, desperate to cover up the sound you just made, but Mingyu was too quick for that. As you stood up to leave, Mingyu tugged you back down- right into his lap.

"stay"

"what are y-"

"stay here"

The scent of his body wash floods your senses and it's almost overwhelming how large his presence feels. He was everywhere. There was no escaping this, no escaping him.

"here's what I think is happening- you tell me if I'm on the right track, okay?" You nod, glancing down at the floor.

"I think you're a little flustered,"

You nod.

"and it's 'cause of me,"

You nod again.

"my haircut, specifically-"

Hesitantly, you nod once again.

"and," he traces his hand down to the crotch of your shorts between your crossed legs, "I think you need my help"

Your breath catches in your throat when his fingers tease your slit through the flimsy fabric of your shorts. Looking away, you can't seem to hide the red flush bubbling up your cheeks. It was embarrassing how easily he read you.

"am I wrong?"

You shake your head.

"so you do need my help"

You nod.

"how bad?" Suddenly his voice drops to a whisper and your eyes widen.

"wh-"

" how bad do you need me"

"I-" you feel your throat tighten. Words seem particularly difficult today, don't they?

You squirm in his lap, your back flush against his firm chest, but his hands hold you still. "this won't do, doll,"

"gotta use your words, yeah?"

He knew damn well how shy you got around him. He knew how you rarely initiated anything physical. He knew you couldn't bear the way he said such filthy, filthy things to you with a poker-straight face.

He knew, but still, here you are- sitting red-faced in his lap as he tries to coax pleas out of you. The bastard wanted to hear you beg.

"Mingyu please " Your voice is a whisper, meek and soft. It almost gets him to stop teasing. Almost.

"please?" he echoes, smirking against your skin. Mingyu presses gentle kisses along your shoulder, so soft you can barely feel them. The action leaves your skin tingling, goosebumps running across your arm.

"don't be mean gyu c'monn"

He grins, "just wanna hear you say it puppy," A hand slides its way down your body and into your shorts while his lips continue their assault. "you can do that for me, can't you?"

When his fingers find your clit and he toys around with it ever-so-softly, you can barely contain the whimper that threatens to spill from your lips.

"gonna be good for me, hm? gonna tell me how bad you need to cum?" he groans, "fuck you're dripping "

"Mingyu plea- oh" He slips a digit into you, pumping in and out so slowly you could cry, "fas-faster please" As the words leave your lips, embarrassment settles on you like a rain cloud. Mingyu, however, seems super satisfied.

"good girl, keep talking puppy, tell me what you need"

His finger picks up speed and your back arches away from him at the sudden change- "min- oh my god fuck you feel so good" His thumb rubs tight circles at your clit, and you feel your stomach tighten, an all too familiar knot threatening to snap with his movements.

The room feels hot. Hotter than it was a few minutes ago. Your shorts were still on, your shirt too. Clothed and writhing in Mingyu's lap, you wanted nothing more than to shed the suffocating fabric. He, however, still had his sweatpants on and didn't seem the least bit concerned. With his chest pressing into your back, you could feel the bare skin of his torso against yours, but it was a shame that you couldn't see his half-naked frame. His muscles tensed as his hands worked you up to your high, biceps flexing deliciously around you.

"please," You clawed at his hand- the one sitting snug in your shorts- nails digging into his forearm when he added a second digit into you. "keep- fuck keep doing that I'm gonna-"

"I know, puppy, I know, let go for me hm? can you do that? can you be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?"

His words sent you over the edge, and your head fell back in pleasure as you chanted his name like a prayer. You were a martyr for him- dying small deaths every time your bodies connected, every time he touched you, every time he lit you ablaze with his words. Mingyu always knew what you needed, what your body desired. It was eerie, almost, how well he read your mind.

"fuck-" a low groan on his end has you settling back to reality, and you realise his fingers are still moving. A cry leaves your parted lips at the overstimulation and your legs tremble when he holds them open. "you wanted to cum, didn't you? you can give me one more, doll, c'mon

"oh my god Mi- Mingyu"

"that's it puppy,"

His fingers slip out of you and trace their way up to your clit, coating it with your arousal. Two digits part you open, while his middle finger glides across the tender bundle of nerves, adding pressure when he hears your breathing grow shallow.

Your body spasms under his touch, cries bouncing off the walls of your living room, and he knows you're nearing another high. Mingyu flicks your clit, pulling a particularly loud moan from you, and quickens his pace.

"c'mon, sweetheart, cum for me, hm? I know you want to baby, just let go" And with that, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, stronger than the first, mixed with a tinge of pain- you didn't mind at all, though, did you?

Mingyu can't resist slipping his fingers back into you to coat them with your juices, and you jerk up. A smirk graces his handsome features and he pumps into you a few times, teasing just a little. Your body goes limp atop him, shoulders slumping, thighs quivering into him. It's adorable, he thinks. All he'd done was fuck you on his fingers, yet here you are, spent like you'd been at it all night.

"still with me, puppy?"

You nod, dazed. Your mouth feels dry- throat hoarse from all the screaming you'd done minutes before- and your limbs feel like jelly, but god did you want more. No matter what time of day, no matter how tired or upset or distracted you are, if he was offering, you were game. Just like you are now.

"are you sure? you're- fuck you're shaking " A soothing hand smooths over your exposed thigh, tender like he didn't just rip two orgasms out of you in succession. It's almost ironic how he switches from being an overwhelming tease to a gentle little lamb. The same hands that labored to work you up, to break you, are now rubbing your skin softly to bring you down and settle your frenzied nerves.

The two of you sit in place for a minute, with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he calms you down. When he feels you relax completely Mingyu is quick to scoop you up in his arms and place you on the couch, settling himself between your thighs on his knees. He looks up at you in silent permission, eyes practically begging for you to say yes. To say something.

So you do.

"please- please touch me " It's embarrassing the way your voice comes out all soft and wobbly but neither of you mind. Fuck, Mingyu thinks it's the hottest thing he's heard you say. And of course, since you asked so nicely, who was he to disoblige?

Seconds after, you found yourself sobbing into your arm- draped over your face- at the way he lapped you up. The sheer wetness of you was intoxicating. He couldn't help but be a little selfish. He'd wanted a taste ever since he saw how hard you tried to control yourself all night.

"so good for me," you heard him mumble against you, "so fucking sweet". You could've sworn he was getting more out of this than you were, but with the way your voice gave way to the most lewd sounds you've ever made, it was anyone's game.

Mingyu licks a fat stripe up your folds before plunging his tongue into your hole, fucking you with the wet muscle. You cry out in pleasure, feeling the way he forces his way in. The wet squelches of your sex coupled with the borderline pornographic moans you made were enough to make a sailor blush. It was so raw, so carnal.

His hands pry your thighs apart when you start closing in around him, and he pins them open, merciless in his assault. "be good, baby" he warns.

And you want to be. You really do. But with the way his tongue works into you, you can't help yourself. It's too much. You feel your legs strain against his hands, flesh giving under the force of his grip. His brows crease with effort and he groans into you, shoving your thighs even further apart. The sudden force earns him a yelp on your end, and he smirks in satisfaction.

"you're gonna keep these open for me aren't you, puppy?" Mingyu withdraws his tongue and kisses his way up to your clit. He places a few wet pecks at your clit before stimulating it with his tongue, using your wetness to trace back and forth.

Your back arches against the couch, head falling back- "ye-fuck- anything you want". Mingyu seems satisfied with your response and within moments he brings you to your third orgasm of the evening. His name leaves your lips in a high-pitched cry as you cum, hands flying to grab at his hair and drag him away from your sensitive heat.

It makes him chuckle, your sensitivity. You were so fucking cute like this, ruined for him, by him. He did this. He did this and he knew no one else could.

"baby," he coos, now standing in front of you, "where'd my pretty girl go, hm? thought you wanted to cum on my cock but if yo-"

"n-no please daddy, please- want your cock so bad plea-" The urgency in your voice is evident as you scramble up on wobbly legs to keep him close, knees giving way so quickly you can barely process what happens when he rushes to support you.

"oh puppy," Mingyu feels something stir within him at your panicked desperation, "shh baby, I got you hm? whatever you want from me is yours, I'm yours- always will be"

That's how you end up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with his eyes locked onto yours; wordless and intense. He lowers you onto the plush surface of your bed, making sure your head rests comfortably on the pillows behind. In a swift motion, he sheds his sweatpants, leaving himself completely bare for you.

"please," you whimper, "daddy please-". It's painful how badly you need him. He seems to be able to tell as well, seeing how his limbs drag him back into bed, parting on either side of your hip. You feel the way his cock ghosts over where you need him most, and your eyes begin to well with tears. "please"

He complies, wordlessly.

The head of his cock- angry and red- slips between your folds, lubricating his length with your slick so he doesn't hurt you when he pushes in. It's a simple action, but it makes your back arch prettily under him, begging for more.

"colour?" he asks, looking into your eyes.

"green" you affirm.

Slowly, he pushes into you, hips meeting yours as he bottoms out. Mingyu groans at the tight fit, you sob at the stretch. Your walls stretch deliciously around him and he finds himself getting lost in your heat right away. The sounds you made, that blissful fucked-out look on your face, the way you tried so hard to keep your eyes open- failing almost always- he was weak for it all. Weak for you. He draws his hips back before thrusting in again and again, until tears stream down your cheeks and all you can think is 'mingyu mingyu mingyu'.

His eyes never left your face for a second and he drank in the sounds you made, muffling his own by biting down into your neck. The tender skin vibrated under his lips with every moan, every sob he drew out of you.

You were alive under him.

Feverish hands trailed around his shoulders up to the sides of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his skin, his weight, his breathing against your body. The slow, sensual drag of his hips was intense. More than it usually was. Thus far, you'd always had a great time with him, always been fucked right, but now? Now with the way he cradled you in his arms, inhaling your scent as he rocked his body desperately into yours, you were certain this was more than just fucking. He was making love to you.

Perhaps it was the way you so earnestly needed him. Perhaps it was the desperation in your eyes. Something, something, had struck a chord within him because now, he looked at you and made you feel like you were made for him. Like you were the only two people in this world and nothing else mattered. Like he had maybe- just maybe- fallen in love with you.

"gonna c- daddy, fuck don't stop," you moaned, tugging at his hair, nails digging into his back.

He groans in response and you know he's cumming right with you. "so good for me- made just for me- fuck"

A few more thrusts before his movements lose precision, growing sloppy and strained. Mingyu rips his head from the crevice of your neck and looks at you. You're on the brink of coming undone, nearly there, and he could swear he's dreaming. You're so pretty, always are, but something about you now has him losing himself faster than usual. The pink tinge on your cheeks that glows when you drink yourself nearly to death pales in comparison to the burning hue now, your pupils are blown wider than he'd ever seen, and your lips- fuck your lips- they were swollen and bruised and glossy- he can't get enough.

He watches as you break under him, his name flowing from your mouth along a stream of sobs and whimpers, and follows suit, releasing his load into you.

Reality hits soon after, and his exhaustion catches up to him, as does yours. Mingyu crushes you under him, laying on top of you for a minute to catch his breath.

"that was-" he starts before breaking off into an airy scoff, "christ "

All you can offer in response is a weak laugh, and he kisses the skin under his lips in pity. "m'sorry puppy, I dunno what got int-"

"don't be. really. I uh, I liked tonight. a lot."

Mingyu pulls himself up to kiss you, softly, gently. It made your stomach churn. 'oh.' you realized, 'I'm in love'

What you don't realize, however, is that Mingyu feels the same.

For now, all you can do is lean into his touch as he picks you up and takes you to the bathroom to clean up. We'll save confessing for another day.

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