#i'm in love with this menace of a man

[be-an-echo]

✨ girl dad Joel ✨

made for @kokureno

[killerplink]

SPRAWL

Pairing: Roy Harper x Female Reader

Plot: lazy mornings with Roy always start slow—coffee, cigarettes, and soft kisses. but you're half naked in his shirt, he's hard, and neither of you has any patience

Words: 7,8k

It's the sunlight that wakes you first, warm and slow across your legs, the bedsheets rumpled low on your thighs. You stretch a little under the weight of him, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and smile when you realize he's draped half over you like a big, clingy human furnace.

Roy's still asleep. Or close to it, anyway. One arm is slung across your waist, heavy and lazy, his fingertips curled just under the hem of the shirt you'd stolen from him last night like you always do. His face is buried somewhere between your neck and the pillow, warm breath tickling your skin.

He's only wearing boxers—hadn't even bothered with a proper pair of sweats—and you're in nothing but his old t-shirt, soft from too many washes, riding up too high on your thighs. Neither of you had the energy for much after last night's shared shower, anyway; you barely dried off before crawling into bed and knocking out mid flop.

You shift a little, just enough to adjust the tangled sheets, and his arm tightens instinctively like he can sense you trying to slip away.

"Mmhmm... stay."

His voice is rough with sleep, gravelly and low, and it rumbles against your shoulder more than anything. You hum and turn your head, brushing your nose against his soft hair before kissing his forehead.

"You gonna wake up eventually, or just keep crushing me like a weighted blanket?"

"Warm weighted blanket," he mutters, nuzzling into you with a sleepy smirk. "With abs. What's not to love?"

You laugh softly and let your hand drift up into his hair, fingers threading through the messy strands. He doesn't open his eyes, but he shifts again, this time slotting his hips more snugly against your leg. The heat of his body, the brush of his skin on yours, the low groan in the back of his throat, it all starts to melt into something messier, lazier, hungrier, but that always happens with him.

He finally lifts his head, red hair sticking up at every angle, eyes still half lidded as he reaches across you to grab the pack of cigarettes off the nightstand. The arm that stays around you slides a little lower on your body, possessive and unhurried.

"Really? Gonna smoke in bed now?" you huff, arching a brow as he taps one out and sticks it between his lips.

"Just one. Morning ritual."

He lights it, inhales slow, eyes locked on you as he exhales toward the ceiling. Then he shifts, leans in with a little smirk and a hand sliding up your bare thigh. "You want some, trouble?"

You nod, already reaching out to wrap your fingers around his wrist as he holds the cigarette steady. He watches you through sleepy eyes, smirking just a little as you take the drag, because you know damn well he's watching your mouth. You hold it for a second before blowing the smoke out smooth, letting it curl between your lips like you've done this with him a dozen times before. Because you have.

After a beat, you slide out from under the covers without a word.

"Baby," he throws his hands up, voice still scratchy with sleep, "where are you goin'?"

You giggle, glancing over your shoulder as you pad toward the doorway. "I'm just gonna make some coffee, dummy. Wasn't that part of the morning ritual too?"

You make sure to flash just the barest hint of ass before smoothing the hem of his t-shirt down again. Not enough to satisfy, just enough to tease, and God, the little sound he makes in response is so worth it.

The kitchen is quiet, sunlight spilling in through the windows like honey. You move through it barefoot, still warm from the bed, and start prepping like it's routine—because it is. You grab the good beans, the dark roast Roy actually likes but forgets he likes unless you make it for him, and load up the machine.

A few minutes later, your mug is already sitting there, coffee simple and black, just how you take it. No frills, no nonsense. His, though? That's a whooole thing. You pour his strong and dark, then dump in that ridiculous creamer he insists "just makes it taste better".

You stir it all together until it's the color of caramel, with just a little bit of froth on top. It smells way too sweet for a man who used to eat MREs on rooftops, but oh well, he's a complicated guy.

With the two mugs in hand, you head back to the bedroom, and God, there he is.

Still sprawled across the bed like he owns the damn thing—back against the headboard, legs stretched out, cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazy in the sunlight. His red hair is a mess, and the tattoos on his chest and arms are on full display. He looks like fucking sin and comfort and home all rolled into one.

"You look good like that," you murmur as you step back into the room, handing him his mug.

Roy takes it from you with a grin, eyes dipping low to trace the line of your legs as you set yours on the nightstand and crawl back into bed.

"Yeah? Thought you liked me better underneath you, baby."

"I do," you shrug.

"Yeah?" he says, lazy and amused, eyes locked on your face.

You don't even get a second to nod before his arm snakes around your waist and suddenly you're yelping, a little squeak catching in your throat as he pulls you right into his lap. Your thighs part instinctively to straddle him, and you feel him shift beneath you—adjusting the angle, the position, just so—until his dick is nestled perfectly between your folds, already hard and hot through the cotton.

"Jesus, Roy—" you slap his chest, a soft, playful thud against muscle and ink.

"That's better," he nods, one hand sliding up the back of your thigh to palm your ass. "My pretty girl deserves a good seat in the morning."

You roll your eyes, trying to keep up the act, but you don't budge an inch. Roy stretches, reaching over to grab your mug off the nightstand with one hand while the other stays possessively on your ass. He hands it to you with a little scrunch of his nose, his expression one of pure judgement.

Roy watches you sip, but he looks like he's personally offended. "I don't know how you can drink it like that, baby," he mutters, flicking ash into the tray on the nightstand.

You raise a brow, deadpan. "Says the guy who dumps a criminal amount of sugar and creamer into it and still calls it coffee."

He just shrugs, all cocky and unbothered. "Tastes like a fuckin' dessert. I like it."

You purse your lips, take another sip, then look at him out the corner of your eye with that familiar, playful look, and he knows what it means.

He grins, brings the cigarette to your lips without a word, and you take a drag, deep and lazy, and when you exhale the smoke, you hum sweetly and purr, "Good boy."

That gets him instantly. And fuck, do you feel it—the twitch of his cock under you, pressing up against your pussy like it heard you first.

Your cunt clenches around nothing in response, slick already smearing the front of his boxers. Roy huffs a breath through his nose, grinning around the cigarette as he plucks it from his mouth and puts it out in the ashtray.

"Oh, trouble, you're so fuckin' lucky I like bein' praised."

He takes the mug from your hand with a little smirk, setting it down next to his on the nightstand like it's an afterthought—because right now, it is. What matters is you, perched in his lap, pretty and hot and so fucking wet for him already.

Both hands grab your ass, rough and greedy, fingers digging into soft flesh like he needs to feel all of you. And then he ruts up into you, lazy and slow, his cock thick under the damp cotton, sliding against your pussy and fuck, you're soaked, the friction dragging a little moan out of you before you can stop it.

Your hands flatten against his chest, fingertips brushing across the ink and muscle like you've done a thousand times before.

You lean in close, close enough to feel his breath on your mouth, your lips barely ghosting over his as you murmur with a grin, "Do you, baby?"

He hisses through his teeth, and that cocky little smile vanishes. The slap lands before you even register his hand moving, right across your ass, just enough sting to make you gasp, and you jerk against him, nails biting into his chest.

"Fuckin' brat," he mutters, low and wrecked, and then his other hand is in your hair, tangled up at the nape of your neck as he pulls you in, mouth crashing into yours.

The kiss is filthy, messy, soaked in want and need. His tongue slides right against yours, teeth catching on your bottom lip just to make you whimper, spit mixing as he devours you. He grinds up into you the whole time—slow, rough rolls of his hips that drag his cock against your slit, the wet patch between you growing hotter, stickier with every pass. You're panting into his mouth, rocking your hips to match the rhythm, desperate to get more, to get him inside already.

But Roy's greedy. He kisses like he's trying to fuck you with his mouth first, like if he licks deep enough, bites hard enough, you'll fall apart before his dick ever gets inside.

Your thighs tremble around his hips, breath caught in your throat when he sucks your tongue into his mouth like he can't stand not tasting every inch of you. One hand is still in your hair, the other gripping your ass, pressing you down harder against his dick.

"Feel that, baby?" he murmurs between kisses, "so fuckin' hard for you it hurts."

You moan his name, soft and sweet like it slips out without thinking—"Roy..."—and it's enough to make him hum like the sound alone gets him off.

"What's wrong, baby?" he says, lips brushing yours, smug and soft and fuck does he know. "Need somethin'?"

You nod, eyes fluttering, grinding down against the thick ridge of his cock, catching it right between your soaked folds. The friction makes you whimper, makes your thighs tense. He groans, dragging you closer with a tight grip on your ass, greedy fingers kneading like he's feeling you lose it.

"Yeah?" he breathes, "What do you need, trouble?"

You stutter, breath catching as you rock against him again, more slick sticking to his boxers. "Y-your... your dick, baby. Please."

And God, the way his lips part around a chuckle, like he lives for you begging like that. And it kinda shows, because you sound so fucking sweet when you're whining for his dick. Ever since the first time he heard you beg, he's been feral every single time you do it.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, voice rough. "Then take it, sweet girl. It's right there."

You moan, dragging your hands down between you, lifting your hips so you can shove the waistband of his boxers down, just enough to free his cock. And there it is: heavy, thick, flushed along the shaft with veins you can already feel, sticky with precum just from grinding against your pussy.

It's long enough to make your mouth water, girthy enough that your thighs twitch around him, and he's got a slight curve, the kind that hits just right every fucking time without even trying. From the very first time he fucked you, you've been addicted—completely gone for it—because it's hands down the best dick you've ever had.

But before you can even sink down onto him like your body is screaming to, he grabs your hips and drags you back down, cock slipping between your folds again, grinding slowly against your pussy.

"I want you to cum like this first," he says, low and mean and sweet all at once, eyes half lidded and fixed on your face because he knows you'll obey.

You whine, high and breathy, and your first instinct is to argue, to tell him you need him inside already. But really, you should've expected this because Roy's a little shit in the morning. Teases you when you're soft and pliant, makes you work for it with that smug ass smile and those hands that never stop grabbing and guiding and owning.

So you don't protest. You just whimper as his cock slides through your folds, catching on your swollen clit, dragging slick from tip to base. You're soaked, leaving his dick shiny with it, making the drag dirtier, the grind deeper.

You lean in again, lips parted, and he meets you halfway, tongue already pushing into your mouth like he needs more of you. The kiss is slower, wetter, lips parting and meeting again with sloppy little sounds as your hips roll over his cock and your cunt starts clenching down on nothing. His tongue licks into you deep, breath ragged as he keeps grinding your pussy against him, and you swear you could cum just like this, just from the pressure, the mess, the weight of it all.

"Fuckin' hot," he murmurs into your mouth. "So fuckin' wet for me. You gonna make a mess on my dick, baby?"

Your moans are getting higher, whimpers spilling past your lips with every grind, every wet little slide of your pussy over his cock. You're soaked—fucking drenched—and it's loud, those slick little noises echoing in the room, obscene and shameless and so goddamn perfect that Roy swears under his breath.

"Fuck, listen to you," he rasps, hands gripping your ass as he rocks you down harder. "You hear that? That's you makin' a mess on my dick."

Your thighs are shaking, hips stuttering, and he knows you're close. He knows your body like his own fucking name, knows how you fall apart when he talks like that, touches you just right, kisses you like you're his whole fucking world. So he gives it to you, everything you need like he always does.

"That's it, pretty thing," he coos, eyes locked to your face. "That's my good fuckin' girl."

Your breath shudders and your hips jolt forward, and that's when he knows—you're gone, right on the edge, barely holding on.

But he's had enough of the fabric in the way. With one tug, he yanks the shirt up and over your head, tossing it somewhere on the floor without looking, too busy staring at you, bare and flushed and whimpering on top of him. One hand comes up to grab at your tits, thumb swiping over your nipple as his other slides up to squeeze and tease the other.

You lean back just enough to give him more to see, bracing yourself on his thighs, your nails digging into his skin as you grind your pussy over his cock, messier, needier, slick just everywhere. He watches the way your folds spread around the thick head of his dick, how your clit catches with every pass, sees the way you're using him, and it does something to him.

He moans, low and rough. "Jesus, baby... look at you."

And fuck, he loves seeing you like this. Loves how you never hold back, how you've been bold from the very beginning, if he's being honest. From the moment you straddled his lap for the first time and whispered filthy shit in his ear like you owned him. From that first kiss, with that pretty mouth that could ruin a man, looking him dead in the eyes and telling him you were gonna ride him until he couldn't walk. And you did.

That boldness? That fire? It still wrecks him. Because you're here, back arched, tits in his hands, soaking his dick with every grind, desperate and flushed and fucked out and somehow still in control. Using him to get yourself off like it's your right, like he's yours to ruin. And he fucking is.

"You gonna cum for me like this, baby?" he breathes, voice wrecked. "Gonna make a mess on my dick before I even get it inside you?"

"Y-yeah," you whimper, voice all breathless and trembling as your hips grind harder, rougher, rubbing your clit against the thick, slippery slide of his cock.

"Yeah?" Roy breathes, and there's that little cocky tilt to his voice again, low and smug and wrecked at the same time.

His chest is heaving hard, his hands are still on your tits, and then he pinches your nipples, thumbs rolling the peaks between his fingers, just the way you like, just how he knows it drives you crazy, and it's over.

Your mouth drops open on a gasp, a moan caught in your throat as your body jolts—hips stuttering forward, thighs trembling as your pussy clenches hard around nothing and you cum, just like that, soaking his dick in a hot, messy wave. Slick coats his cock, spreads down his shaft, makes it filthier, wetter as you keep grinding through it, riding it out like you can't stop.

You're panting, keening, nails biting into his thighs, tits bouncing under his hands as your whole body shakes through it, and Roy is fucking feral underneath you—watching, feeling, losing it.

Because your pussy when you cum? It's fucking unreal. Hot and soaked and clenching so hard like it's desperate for more, like she's trying to pull him in. And he fucking wants it. Wants to feel that perfect, velvety heat wrapped around him, wants to give you more, give you everything until you can't breathe.

But first he lets you have it. Lets you take your pleasure, lets you ruin his dick with it, lets you rub your sweet little cunt on him until you've wrung yourself out.

And then you lean in again, lips finding his, and it's not gentle. It's hungry, hot and wet and messy as fuck, your mouth moving over his with tongue and teeth, licking into him like he's the only thing you'll ever need. You're moaning into his mouth and he's groaning back, grabbing your ass with both hands and dragging you flush against him, fingers flexing hard enough to bruise.

Then you lift just enough—just barely—and Roy doesn't hesitate because he already knows what you want. One hand wraps around the base of his cock, soaked and slick and so fucking hard it aches, and he lines it up, eyes locked to yours, lips still brushing.

He pushes in, slow and deep, stretching your pussy open inch by thick inch. And God damn it, you're so wet. He sinks in with no resistance, just warm, wet heat and the sloppy sound of your cunt sucking him in. The stretch burns just a little, but it melts into that delicious, overwhelming fullness that makes your breath catch, makes your pussy flutter around him.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, jaw clenched tight, eyes locked on your face. "Greedy little pussy, still squeezin' me like you didn't just cum."

But he swears he's never getting used to this. To the way you take him like you were made for it, the way your soaked pussy hugs every damn inch of his dick like it's yours. Because it is.

You start to move, hips rolling in a teasing rhythm as you begin to bounce on his dick real slow, taking every thick inch inside you. You both moan like you can't help it, like it's a relief to be connected this way, hot and tight and right where you belong. Your fingers find his shoulders, nails pressing in just a little, and Roy groans as his hands squeeze your hips, guiding your movements, making sure you take it deep every time.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, voice all rough and sweet and ruined. "Just like that. Ride me slow, sweet girl. Let me feel that pretty little pussy."

Your lips brush his, teasing a little, and then—fuck it—you lean in and kiss him again. It's lazy and messy and hot, your mouths moving together like you've done this a hundred times and still can't get enough. His tongue slides against yours, slow and deep, like he's fucking you with his mouth too, tasting every moan you give him.

And God, the way you fuck him—it's not just bouncing, it's grinding down on every stroke, rolling your hips to make sure he hits just the right spot, just the way you like it. That slow build kind of fuck that's all heat and slick and needy little moans. His dick is so hard inside you, every stretch, every grind, every lazy bounce melting your thoughts into nothing. Because you fucking love Roy.

That smart ass grin, that cocky voice that goes soft when he talks to you. The way he's always got your back, always calls you his girl, the way he smokes like it's a personality trait but still puts the cigarette out the second you get needy. The way he holds you when you're falling asleep, the way he fucks you like this like he knows your body inside out and wants to ruin it with love every damn time.

He's it, you're sure of it. He's the love of your life. But his dick? Yeah, that's a very nice bonus.

Because it's thick, heavy, hot as fuck, and it hits that spot deep inside you every single time without even trying. You swear he was made for this—for you. Fills you up just right, keeps you stuffed and clenching and soaking wet, makes you feel every inch of him like your pussy can't get enough.

And the way he watches you ride him? Fuck, it makes you feel like the hottest thing he's ever seen.

"Look at you," he murmurs against your lips, panting. "Takin' my dick so good."

You sit upright as you bounce on his cock, planting your hands on his chest to steady yourself, and the second your body lifts—just a little, just enough to show him the mess between your thighs—you know he's looking. His eyes drop like gravity yanked them there, locked in on the way your pussy clings to his dick, and the groan he lets out? Low, rough, wrecked.

"Fuck..." head dropping back against the headboard for a second like it's too much. "You see that? Pussy so wet I can hear it, baby... you're fuckin' unreal."

Sticky little strings of slick stretch between your folds and the base of his dick every time you lift yourself up, and then you drop back down with a wet smack, taking him all the way to the hilt. Again. And again. Real slow, real messy. And every single time, he grabs at your waist like he's trying to ground himself, like if he doesn't touch you, he might lose his mind completely.

You moan, low and needy, because you can feel it too—every thick, aching drag of his cock through your soaked, fluttering cunt, each wet slide making your back arch. The stretch is obscene, just the right kind of hurt, and every blunt push against your sweet spot makes your belly twist tight and your legs tremble like you're about to break.

And God, you love being on top of him. You love the way he looks at you, all flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, arms tense from holding back, like he's one second away from flipping you over and pounding into you but is so fucking obsessed with the way you ride him that he won't.

You love how he watches your cunt like he's starving. You feel powerful—his, but in control, using him, soaking him, giving him the best fucking view imaginable. His cock sinks inside you over and over again, and he moans every single time, like it gets better each time your pussy swallows him whole.

"Goddamn," he pants, thumbing at your waist, squeezing the flesh there like he needs to feel you everywhere. "You ridin' me like you missed this dick since last night, pretty thing. Missed me fillin' this sloppy little pussy up?"

You whimper, your thighs shaking from how slow and hot the pace is, how fucking full you feel, and his dick just drags through all that slick heat like he owns it. Because he does.

You're soaked for him, dripping all over his lap, and you can feel it building again, that pressure curling low in your belly, tighter and tighter with every bounce, every grind, every filthy word he moans.

You start pausing every few thrusts, rolling your hips in lazy, slow circles on his cock, grinding on him just to watch him lose his fucking mind. You know exactly what you're doing, dragging your soaked pussy over every inch, clenching around him just a little tighter every time he twitches inside you, giving him that perfect squeeze that makes his eyes roll back.

Roy hisses, hands flexing on your waist like he still can't believe how good your pussy feels wrapped around his dick. He groans your name like a prayer, hips jerking up into you helplessly, chasing the friction like he's seconds from snapping.

"Fuck, baby. That's it... That's so good. Keep goin', just like that," he pants.

He leans in, mouth hot on your neck, dragging his tongue up the sensitive skin before kissing and licking and sucking hard enough to make you gasp. He groans into your throat, lips open, messy, leaving hickeys without a second thought, claiming you all over again like you're not already his.

He bites down just enough to make it sting, then soothes it with his tongue, sucking until it blooms dark under his mouth. One, then another, and another—he's marking you like it gets him off, like he wants you wincing every time you look in the mirror.

"You're fuckin' perfect," he mutters against your skin, hot breath making you shiver. "Gonna mark you up everywhere, sweet girl. Wanna see it later all over you."

You whimper, clenching around his dick, and he groans again, licking his way down, wet kisses and teeth on your chest until he gets to your tits. He doesn't hesitate—takes one in his mouth, tongue flicking fast over your nipple before he sucks hard, pulling the soft flesh between his lips. His other hand comes up, pinching and rolling the other nipple between his fingers, and your back arches on instinct, a sharp moan falling out of you.

"Oh God... Roy—"

He bites gently, licks, then sucks again, groaning low in his throat like your tits are his favorite fucking thing in the world. And honestly, they probably are, second only to your pussy.

"You're so good, trouble," he growls against your skin, mouth trailing slick and spit over your tits. "Fuckin' love watchin' you ride me."

"I'm so close," you moan, voice all high and wrecked, "Baby, please—"

He smirks against your nipple, that cocky little shit eating grin you should've seen coming, then lets his hand slide down between your bodies. He finds your clit easy—so swollen, so fucking needy—and starts rubbing you in tight, fast circles. The kind of touch that makes your thighs shake, makes your walls clench harder around his dick as you start to bounce a little faster, harder, chasing that high with every grind and thrust.

Roy's mouth never leaves your tits, licking and sucking and biting until your whole body is on fire. His other hand stays locked on your waist, dragging you down onto his cock with each bounce like he needs to feel you take every inch.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he groans, licking over your nipple before sucking it back into his mouth. "Gonna soak my dick like a good fuckin' girl?"

"Y-Yeah," you whimper, nodding fast, your voice all breathy and high.

Roy smirks, not even trying to hide how much he loves you like this, all flushed and fucked out, tits bouncing with every needy grind of your hips, your slick making a mess of his cock. He leans back in again, mouth greedy as he sucks another bruise onto the soft swell of your chest, groaning against your skin like he lives for the way you whimper when he does it.

"Yeah, sweet girl?" he murmurs, low and filthy, voice rough from sleep and lust and love, dragging his tongue along your chest before burying his whole face between your tits.

His stubble scrapes just enough to make your toes curl as he licks a long, hot stripe up the middle. His cock twitches deep inside you as he looks you over—your tits flushed and wet, your cunt squeezing him so tight, your lips parted as you ride that edge, right there.

You can't even think, can't fucking breathe as he finally pulls back, settling against the headboard again like he's gonna sit back and watch the show. But his fingers never stop moving. Still rubbing your clit in tight, perfect circles, matching the slow, sloppy rhythm of your hips as you fuck yourself on his cock.

And it's too much. Too good. Your head falls back, mouth open on a moan as it hits you—hard.

Your orgasm crashes over you, full body and intense, every nerve lit up. Your pussy clenches around him like a vice, hot and soaked, making his cock slick with your release. It's messy, loud, your hips jerking, thighs trembling as your voice spills into the room, gasps and whimpers and helpless little sobs of his name.

You swear you black out for a second, every muscle trembling, overstimulated and wrung out and soaked as you ride it out on his dick.

Roy's still rubbing your clit because he knows just how far to push you, how to toe that perfect line between pleasure and ruin.

You whimper, twitching in his lap, your body jolting every time his thumb circles over your swollen clit. "R-Roy—it's—fuck, baby, it's too much—"

It is too much. You're too sensitive, nerves all shot and overstimulated but it still feels so good, so raw and wet and filthy. He knows exactly what you need, exactly how to wreck you and put you back together in the same breath.

"I've got you," he murmurs, eyes locked on your cunt grinding against his dick, lips parted like he can't even believe how hot you look falling apart for him, every fucking time. "That's my girl."

He gives you a little break—just a little—fingers slipping away from your soaked clit, letting you breathe for all of two seconds before smacking your ass hard enough to make you jolt with a cry. The sting blooms hot and sharp, and you barely get to whimper before his big hand stays right there, gripping a handful of your ass.

His other hand snakes into your hair, fingers tangling tight as he yanks you down, crashing your mouth against his in a kiss that's nothing but teeth and tongue and filthy, desperate need. You moan into him, gasping against his mouth as he finally starts to pound up into you, hard and deep, his cock slamming into your soaked pussy like he's been holding back this whole time just to ruin you right.

And fuck, he does. He fucks you like he's starved for it, like he's been waiting all morning for this exact moment, for the chance to make your thighs shake and your brain melt right out of your pretty little head.

Every thrust hits home, hard and brutal and so fucking deep you swear you feel it in your gut. His hips smack up into yours, skin on skin, wet and obscene, echoing off the walls like porn you don't even remember putting on.

Your slick is everywhere—dripping down your thighs, clinging to his cock, stringing sticky between your bodies every time his hips slam into yours and pull back. You're babbling into his mouth, little gasped out curses and moans, your nails dragging down his chest like you're trying to hold on to something while he fucks you dumb.

And he loves it. Loves how messy you are for him, how wet, how your pussy sucks him right back in.

"Goddamn, baby," he pants against your lips. "You're so fuckin' tight—takin' it so good for me."

He shifts his angle just a little and Jesus, it hits something that makes you cry out loud, your whole body twitching as your pussy clamps down around him like it's already trying to cum again. He groans, eyes rolling a little as his hips stutter, but he doesn't stop. Just fucks you harder. Deeper. Filthier.

You cry out, the kiss breaking as your head drops to his shoulder, too overwhelmed to even keep up. Every thrust rocks through you, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room, your slick making it so easy for him to fuck in deep, the thick stretch of his cock dragging against your fluttering walls with every thrust. He moans into your neck, biting a little, panting into your skin, and you're just... gone.

He's losing it too, jaw clenched, muscles flexing, cock buried balls deep. You're so fucking wet, so tight, your whimpers and sobs against his neck making his hips snap up faster, harder, your cunt swallowing his dick again and again.

Fuck, he's close. All he can think about is how perfect you are, how good you've been for him this morning. Letting him take his time. Letting him tease. Letting him wreck you. He loves you like this, sloppy and sensitive, still shaking from your last orgasm but grinding down like you need another one.

"You gonna take it for me, sweet girl?" he pants, voice hot and filthy in your ear. "Gonna let me cum in that pretty pussy? Fill you up real good?"

God, he knows you will. You always do.

Because you're his, and your pussy was just made to take his cock like this—so desperate, so perfect, fucking down on him like you'd die if he didn't pump you full and give you every last drop.

All he can think about is how good you feel wrapped around his cock, how you always take him so well, even when you're shaking, even when you're crying, even when he's fucking you rough and deep and you're clawing at him like it's too much, but you never tell him to stop. You just take it, like a good girl. Like his good girl.

And you? Your mind is not even working anymore. Just one messy, broken loop of yes, yes, yes, please, need it, hips grinding down faster, sharper, chasing it with everything you've got. You want his cum. Need it. Want to feel it spilling out of you after. Want him to keep it inside you, kiss you through it, tell you what a good girl you are while he's still stretching you open and making a mess.

You're so fucking close again. And so is he.

His thrusts get all sloppy and desperate, hips jerking up into your soaked pussy with no rhythm anymore, just this raw, needy push of his cock trying to bury itself as deep as it can go. You whimper, mouth falling open against his skin, nails sinking into his chest, because you know that twitch, you know that exact second right before he cums.

"Shit—" he gasps, voice all rough and broken as he slams up into you one last time and stays there, buried to the hilt, deep and thick and so hot as he finally cums.

And oh fuck, it's so much. You feel every pulse of his cock inside you, every thick rope of cum spilling into your already soaked cunt, so deep you swear you can feel it paint your insides. And just like always—just like every damn time he cums inside you—you cum too. Doesn't matter if it's your first orgasm or the fifth, the second his dick twitches like that inside you, you're done.

You shake for him, whole body trembling as your pussy flutters and squeezes around his cock, sucking every drop out of him. Your hips twitch helplessly, stuck in that sweet, wet aftershock while he keeps you seated on his cock, his hands gripping your ass, strong and sure, keeping you right there—it's too much. Too perfect.

He's moaning for you, head tipped back, jaw clenched, sweat slick on his skin, muttering your name, telling you, "Fuck—good girl, such a good fuckin' girl for me," like the words can ground him.

Your face stays buried in his shoulder, gasping through it, barely holding yourself up, just moaning soft little sounds as you milk his dick with every squeeze of your pussy, rubbing your clit against his skin to ride it out, desperate for every last wave.

He stills deep inside, just like he always does, just so you can feel every twitch, every pulse, the way he stays thick and hard while his cum leaks around him and drips from your fucked open cunt. You both sit in it, gasping, trembling, the only sounds in the room your ragged breathing and the occasional, broken moan when you shift and squeeze him without meaning to.

You lift your head, and he's already looking at you—sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, lips parted, eyes soft in that fucked out, love high way that makes your heart ache.

Your lips part for him like it's second nature and he's there, meeting you halfway, his mouth soft but starving, dragging a low moan from your throat the second his tongue brushes yours. It's not rushed, not frantic, not even about sex anymore. It's just you and him, clinging to each other, greedy for closeness, for the taste of each other on swollen lips.

You tilt your head and kiss him deeper, tongue stroking slow against his, wet and unhurried. He groans into it, low and warm, and you feel it buzz in your chest like it belongs there. His hands stay on your ass and your waist, big and strong and a little shaky as they anchor you in place while your body molds to his, still sticky and full and flushed.

He kisses like he touches—possessive, filthy, loving. His mouth fits to yours with the kind of heat that makes you forget how to breathe, your fingers curling into the messy strands of his red hair as you moan into the kiss, thighs trembling from the aftershocks still rolling through your body.

He licks into your mouth like he owns it, like he knows you'll let him have anything he wants and more, and fuck, he's not wrong. You let him take and take, let him press you down against his chest as his tongue drags over yours slow and slick and hot because you know he gives just as much, always has.

Every wet drag of your mouths makes your pussy throb around his still hard cock, makes more of his cum leak out and drip down his skin, and he moans into the kiss at the feeling of it, at the warmth of your cunt keeping him soaked and buried deep.

You kiss like that for minutes. Just gentle and messy, tongues brushing, sighs slipping out between every press of your lips. The kind of kiss that says mine, even when neither of you say a word.

He sucks on your tongue a little, lets his teeth scrape your bottom lip, like he's tasting you just because he can. And every time you breathe out a soft little moan, he kisses you deeper, hungrier, like he needs it—like he needs you—his hands tightening on your hips like he might pull you in closer still.

When you finally break away, you don't go far, just collapse against his chest with a sleepy little exhale, your nose nuzzling into his neck. He's still inside you, still hard and hot and keeping his cum nice and deep where it belongs, and God, you love that. Always did.

His arms slowly wrap around you, his grip loosening just enough so you can settle into him without losing the closeness. His palms drag up and down your back in lazy strokes, fingertips catching on your sweaty skin but so gently. You feel him nuzzle into your messy hair, lips brushing your temple, soft and warm.

"Good, trouble?" he murmurs, voice worn down to that low, rough rasp you love.

You hum, a sleepy little "Mhmm," brushing your nose along his pulse point before pressing a soft, lingering kiss where his heart hammers under his skin.

It's sweet and lazy, nothing like the filthy mess you just made together, but that's the thing about Roy. He can rip you apart one second, then hold you together in the next.

Even with everything he's been through, all the darkness he's dragged himself out of, he still loves like hell—fierce and full and without hesitation. Like he's got something to prove, or maybe like he finally found something worth keeping.

And the truth is, he has. He knows it. You're it. You're the one who never flinched when you saw the mess, who took all his sharp edges and called them yours. So when he holds you like this, it's not just softness. It's a promise, one he plans on keeping.

You stay like that for a while, bodies tangled up, breaths slowing down, just feeling each other. The sticky warmth between your legs, his cock still nestled deep, the steady beat of his heart beneath yours.

He's quiet, fingertips skimming your back in slow, lazy circles, grounding you without a word. That's how he always is—fuck the soul out of you first, then piece you back together with nothing but soft touches and a steady hold.

He doesn't always say it, not out loud, but this is how he loves. In the way he keeps you close, the way he never pulls out too soon, the way he makes sure you feel safe, feel wanted, feel his.

Eventually, Roy stretches out with a lazy groan, reaching toward the nightstand for his pack. He barely gets the cigarette between his lips before you lift yourself up on his chest, all smug, and steal it right out of his mouth.

"Hey," he grunts, eyebrows raising before his palm smacks your ass again, less rough this time but still enough to make you jolt and giggle. "You little trouble."

You grin, licking his lower lip as you purr, "You looove me."

Another playful slap lands on your ass, his hand staying there after, kneading the warm skin possessively.

"I do," he mutters without missing a beat, that soft affection bleeding into his voice, all sincerity wrapped in that cocky Roy Harper tone.

Your chest flutters with it, but all you do is bat your lashes before he takes the lighter with his free hand, flicking it and bringing it to your cigarette, watching your face the whole time as you take the first drag, eyes half lidded, his own gaze soaked in adoration.

"Jesus," he says quietly, the barest hint of a grin tugging at his lips as you exhale slow, smoke curling into the warm air. "You're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?"

You smirk, placing the cigarette between his lips this time, giving him exactly what he wants back without even making him ask. "Worth it."

You sigh, all soft and content as you slowly sit upright on his lap, making a little pleased noise at the shift of his cock still tucked inside you. He groans under his breath, eyes flickering to your pussy, all wet and wrecked and full of him.

You hum like nothing is wrong, reaching lazily toward the nightstand for your coffee mug. It's only slightly warm now, but you take a sip anyway, licking your lips as you catch him watching you again with that filthy, soft kind of hunger only you ever get.

Then—just to be a brat—you roll your hips in a slow, slow circle, grinding down on his dick like you didn't just cum three times and soak him completely.

He hisses, head falling back against the headboard as he mutters, "Fuckin'—"

You giggle, sipping your coffee again as you tilt your head, all fake innocence and mischief. "Sensitive, baby?"

He growls low in his chest, one hand grabbing your hip. "Don't push it, pretty thing."

Your stomach growls, loud and rude in the sticky silence of the bedroom. You pause, blink, and then snort into your half warm coffee while Roy grins beneath you, all smug.

He gives your hip a squeeze as he says, "Wanna make breakfast, trouble?"

You set your mug down with a little clink, tilting your head as you smirk down at him. "Only if you bend me over the kitchen counter while I make it."

He groans loud, real dramatic with it too, throwing his head back and dragging his hand down your thigh like he's already imagining it. "Fuck, you tryna kill me? Breakfast's gonna take a while."

You giggle as you grind your hips down just enough to make him twitch inside you again, giving him your best sweet little shrug. "You could just say no, baby."

"I could," he grumbles, sliding his hand up your body and letting his thumb trace over your tits again, "but then I'd miss out on watchin' you try to flip pancakes with my dick buried in you."

You bite your lip, leaning down close enough to brush your nose against his. "I'd do it. I'd make them fluffy too."

"Of course you would," he mutters, kissing you, already halfway to dragging you off the bed and into the kitchen.

And well... breakfast did take a while because apparently, it's really fucking hard to flip pancakes when your man's pounding into you from behind.

[thimblings]

Marisol, the Sun of House de Riva

(i love my Crow!Rook, i just have so many head canons aaaaa)

[momochimchim]

Silly doodles

[bootlegramdomneess]

credit for the video clip is @thoughtfulchaos773 Not sure if it's anyone else's ,if it is, I'm sorry.

This is partway how ADHD manifests in my life. I've been reading posts about the polka dots in this scene for forever, and never saw them in this dish until literally just now. I was too ashamed to ask where the fucking polka dots were thinking everyone saw them and I couldn't. Ya'll...

Did he just realize what he did when he looked back down at the dish? I'm....I....

[damsel-in-mistress]

Wait, is this one of the most Alex jokes ever?!

So, one of my favourite Alex rambles EVER is at the iheart radio show during the AM era when Trey is talking to him about things he doesn't want to talk about and they end up talking about Alex being a napper - it goes something like this: Alex: "I do - I am a napper - I a napper" (7:20) And then Matt absolutely loses it behind the drums with laughter and Alex giggles. To this day I have always put this down to general band in-joke shenanigans and the boys just being silly af on national TV/radio/The Internet. UNTIL TODAY, when, mere minutes ago, I was reading this particular passage in Danielle Pender's short story collection "Watching Women & Girls":

It's a PLACE. On CYPRUS. Bc of course it is. So. What if he DIDN'T say "I am a napper. I a napper." BUT "I am a napper. Ayia Napa." What if Alex ACTUALLY worked the PLACE "Ayia Napa" into the conversation bc he'd learned about it, had found the homophone HILARIOUS, had been torturing the band with this play on words all day and had now seized his chance ON NATIONAL RADIO?!

[loz-untold-myths]

(smash bros announcer voice) GANONDORF!!!!

He's on Art Fight by the way!

[fisheito]

This is what i mean

[wayfayrr]

The Menace is back with a Self-Aware ask and your weekly words. So here we go with the Self-Aware!

So I think about a Self-Aware Wind and Spirit would be a good idea. You ask who Spirits is? Well the Link from Spirit Tracks because I'm sure he is a reincarnation of Wind as there were things that wouldn't make sense if he was the same. Niko is old but Spirit isn't, Zelda and Spirit don't recognise each other, Spirit doesn't have a sister or a grandma only old man Niko and Niko tells him the story of Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass.

I believe that Wind tries to be sneaky like when Reader looks away he turns his head towards them. Reader also catched him a few times but just thought their eyes were playing tricks on them same with Spirit. But I think it would be interesting when both of them break out at the same time.

Like the scenario is like that. Reader plays Phantom Hourglass on their DS and their little/older sibling comes to them as they are stuck somewhere in Spirit Tracks and it was Reader's game after all, they don't know that Spirit planned it. So Reader just say leave it with them and put their DS down to look at the problem. Only to notice that it seems as there isn't one, Link just runs around the overworld. So Reader thinks it's a glitch and runs around with Spirit to find a next town, they are really far away if you don't use the train. So Wind gets jealous and looks for methods to get their attention. How? He runs out of the safety zone from Bellum's temple and has a monster running after his life. So if Reader plays with sound on they immediately switch DSs to save Wind. And these two do that the whole time. Oh, there is the train geek? Sorry Spirit, but Wind just fell down somewhere and Reader has to go the whole way back so they don't lose progress and heal him. Oh, Wind has a puzzle that Reader tries to solve? Sorry Wind, but Spirit just rolled against a tree with a bees/horns nest, Reader has to save him. Oh, Spirit sees and Overworld Boss and it does nothing and Reader wants to take pictures of it T posing?! Sorry Spirit, But Wind needs their help as he lost all of the ore for smith Zauz and now has to collect them again!! Oh, Wind just got a heart container after he defeated a boss?! Well Sorry Wind But Spirits RUNS ON WATER! OH LOOK WIND FELL DOWN FROM THE BOAT AND NEEDS TO BE SAVED!! SORRY SPIRIT, BUT YOUR JESUS JOURNEY HAS TO BE CUT SHORT!! OH READER FINALLY FOUNDS THE TRAIN?! WELL EXCUUUSEE ME SPIRIT BUT WIND RAN INTO FREAKING BELLUM IN THE OVERWORLD!!! OH...

And so on. These two will go into extreme lengths to get Readers attention on one of them. So they will probably break out as Reader didn't fold any of the two DS to help their parents who called them. But at first the two will fight. Obviously they love Wind more they played his games a dozens of time! Nooo, they love Spirit more they could've given him back to their sibling but they didn't he was still there. When Reader returns they just demand to know who Reader's favourite is. Reader completely stunned as both games start talk to them think they go nuts as they pulled an all-nighter before. The two won't stop and slammed against the glass until it breaks and... why are they so small? Why is Reader so tall?! WHY ARE THESE TWO HERO CHIBIS!? AND WHY HAS ONE OF THEM A JOB!?!

And your words are.

Sacrifice

Mask

Search

Arsonist

Ice blue

Unknown

Hello menace! you've discovered one of my utter weaknesses that I've never mentioned on here - spirit is my son/lh/j. I love that silly little train kiddo, he's just! So silly goofy!!!

also firm believer that if they both get out - or actually speak to one another then they'll get along really really well. they're twins and I can't be convinced otherwise.

I think the idea of them both spiting the other until reader leaves them both to go and destress would be an eye opener to the both of them, being bitter and not working together is worse for BOTH of them. Of course they'll both bicker about who is the favourite but when push comes to shove, two is always more effective than one.

ALSO LITTLE MENACE SPIRIT???? LOVE HIM oh he deserves to be an absolute little shit for attention, he's just a baby that can do no wrong after all!!!! just a tiny little guy!!!! Baby boy!!!!! he's got his train so now he just needs his older sib's attention!!! so what if he has to mess with someone else's game to do that - it worked so how can you hate him for it?

also the jesus journey bit is actually sending me- he's so desperate for attention he'll break all the rules in order to keep your eyes on him ;-; hopefully you won't reset his game seeing as he's breaking it so much now

heheheheheh tiny baby spirit who can sit in your hand or a baby wind who can fit in your pockets they're just little tiny babies!!!!! little itty bitty guys!!!!! (reminds me of some imgs peep's sent in asks lmao) so what if they shouldn't be there! now they are and that's your problem to deal with!!! they won't cause issues - pinky promise <3

(both of these guys are by @artsy-moonwalker, I adore these two little guys beyond belief and spirit looking so scruffy is just so!!!!!! literally baby and I love him so!!!)

as for the words hmmmmm, I think I'll go with ice blue for this one (sorry for the late response too, I know these were last week's after all)

[evelynpr]

Izuku over the years - rough sketches

Rough sketches of Izuku over the years! I wanna add one where he's 17, and maybe even one when he's 55 or 65 too. I love imagining him being able to grow old and happy.

I know there's hardly a difference between 25-35, and that's kinda intentional with only a few changes - more eye wrinkles, more faded face scar, softer eyes, rufflier and less hair, smoothed out cheeks

The changes from Middle to High school are important though: - Middle school: longer droopier hair, MUCH skinnier, nervous smile, solid dark eyes - High school, pre-war: sharper n floofier hair, MUCH meatier, prouder smile, whited pupils

[psychomusic]

so. I've been reading some posts on the jedi order tag AND i won't talk about my opinion on "are jedi good or bad discourse" BUT i wanna point out some lore to everyone who's complaining about the jedi taking kids into their order: (in the EU) it wasn't always like this.

if you take swtor era (more than 3000 years before the prequels) there were many jedi who joined at an older age. like, for example there was a guy who broke his engagement to become one. most jedi remember their families because they were old enough when they decided to go.

THEN in darth bane's book trilogy (circa 1000 yesrs before the prequels) there is a passage where two sith lords are talking about taking bane, already an adult, to study at korriban. one doubted him because he was too old, ans the other told him he sounded like a jedi, and that ONE DAY jedi will have to accept only kids into their ranks if they really want to find "pure" people that can learn their lessons quicker.

one day!! so it wasn't always like that!! the ongoing wars with the sith, who corrupted and killed many of them, had pressured them into taking always younger people into their ranks.

also, consider a thing that this video explains super well: training to become a jedi is not like exercising, because there is a transformative lesson at the end of the training that changes everything. you can't just do as much as you can, but not finish.

the transformative lesson, as the video explains, is that through the force, everything is the same - from rocks and ships to life and death. at the end of the training you have to understand this fundamental truth.

yoda says "you have to unlearn what you have learned". during times where they were constantly killed off or corrupted by the dark side (and if you haven't learned this lesson you are more susceptible to this corrupting), younger people were taken in to actually finish their training (a training that was ultimately about being a good person AND that you could leave at any point if you weren't sold on that, too)

(remember that for the sith failure = death. like. that was the alternative for force sensitive kids. it's not like sith had any moral problem with taking kids away without consent. sith don't have moral problems: they believe that them being stronger in the force means they can do whatever they want as long as their strong enough to go and do it. there are MANY passages in many different star wars stories, even in different mediums, that say this out loud)

AND (this is more of a critical thought than just stating the lore) the fact that they started doing it out of necessity doesn't mean it's 100% good BUT you know. the whole set up of the prequels is that we're starting off the story in a period of crisis and decadence all around. most of the systems of the times were about to fall. OF COURSE they had problems. if they didn't, we wouldn't have the story to begin with.

that doesn't automatically mean jedi = bad and sith are better, tho. you wouldn't take the last, chaotic and decadent period to jugde something, would you? it's like deciding that the athenian democracy sucked because people at the times of Demosthenes failed at recognizing the new schemes in which the world was evolving into, and still believed that their city would be important as it had been in the previous century. They just didn't fucking expect the Macedons would conquer half the world known and more, and have the subsequent political power. Still, their experiences in the 5th century with democracy were very good, even better than ours on many fronts, if you contextualize a little. the jedi had flaws, and most importantly, they didn't fucking know the future and everything that ever happened, ever, so they made mistakes. that doesn't automatically make the system ill, or bad, or not-working. systems can have setbacks when the world changes. (just like athenian democracy had one when they lost the empire that was funding the democracy. they even had a tyranny for a while and then fixed the problems. that doesn't diminish retrospectively their democracy)

[lady-shadow-and-darknesss]

Chuuya is the second funniest BSD character because everyone assumes this short angry little guy is all brawn no brain and then he just trolls everyone around him intentionally.

[toudan]

don't worry, vergil thinks about your height difference and wants to go lie down too. he thinks about how every time he looks down at you, you're already looking up at him. always with the softest expression he's ever seen in your eyes. he knows the shape of your top lip, the bridge of your nose, every lash by heart because he sees it continuously just by tipping his head down slightly. observing. admiring.

My flabbers were so gasted I was speechless. the gasp I gusped. the giggle I guggled. the babble I bobbled. The squeal I squole

I WILL CRY SOFT VERGIL IS SO 😭😭😭😭 lord give that old man to me I would treat him So Right...... even though he'll only see the top of my head when I doll myself up 😒 I will make every day feel like a Taylor Swift or Ed Sheeran song TRUST 💯💯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 he WILL be loved.......... Yes He Will........

[skygemspeaks]

Hello, I would like to present your regularly scheduled dose of rayleigh

[aeb-art]

i was trying to make up side characters for @8um8le's space friends and thought "every show needs a grump"

i'm not gonna finish this though, so y'all can have it now o7

[wayfayrr]

Here is the menace with Falling Star. So gather 'round, sit back, relax and please stay in your seat. Kick your feet up and grab some popcorn. Oh, and of course, lest we not forget, enjoy the show.

Here we go with a person from afar. Is as old as the stars and travels from world to world this is Lumine!Reader.

They are really old but nobody can exactly say how old as they look like 16 to 17 and are 158 cm tall.

They normally go by the name "Traveller" as they hide their real name, but since the Chain already has a Traveller.

They took the name "Viatrix".

Their Constellation is called "Viatrix" which means Traveller in Latin.

They have a twin brother, Aether. They are actually inseparable but they got separated by a unknown god named the Sustainer of heavenly principles.

Their abilities also got sealed.

They are a fabulous swordfighter and with their twin they are an unbeatable duo as the cover each others blind spots. But they are stronger than their brother.

From the two of them they are the rational but friendly one.

They are always collected and serious and they will say if they don't like something. They are the calm one of the duo.

But they also the strategist and would be a great detective.

But they love to explore and climb around, even Wild would be surprised how fast they can climb mountains even when it rains, they use their elemental energy and gloves to have a better grip.

But they have to take more breaks then their dear twin brother.

They can dive and jump out of the water like a dolphin and even jump from the water onto land and immediately attack if they have to.

They wouldn't be the most affectionate person and if someone got their heart they would hug and kiss their partner occasionally but not all the time.

They also cook very often, mainly because of Paimon, their guide in Teyvat, as she is always hungry. But since then they began to love cooking.

Reader has chin-length except for two locks of shoulder-length hair framing their face. They also have two light-blue Inteyvat flowers pinned on the right side of their head and two pale blue feathers tucked at the left.

They wear a sleeveless, backless, box pleated white tunic like dress-shirt, which is on back longer than by the front. It's held up by crossed black straps. They wear a long two-tailed scarf, with each tail having a gold, flat diamond-shaped ornament attached to the tip of the tail.

Their legwear consists of angled thigh-high stockings and white ankle-high boots.

They can use different elements, Anemo(Wind, Geo(Earth), Electro, Dendro(Plants) and Hyrdo(Water) as they met the Chain.

Their Song is "Dream Aria" from IONIC.

Reader learned about Yandere Chain and their first escape attempt.

Reader's PoV:

I woke up as Paimon shook me awake and as I looked at her she was covered in blood and looked terrified! I took her in my arms and looked around but only Sky was sleeping beside me in his bedroll.

„When did he change his place? Wasn't he beside Wild over there?“ I thought to myself and looked to the space by the other side of the campfire and me, where Sky laid before.

I stood up with Paimon and walked with her to the river nearby to wash her. She was shivering in fear. I've never seen her like that. We fought multiple monsters and people on Teyvat, so why was she so scared? As I got her out and dried her gently with Anemo she literally stuck to me like glue.

„Paimon, what's wrong? You look like you seen a ghost.“ I looked at her and she has tears in her eyes but she pshed me.

„Don't so loud!! They may hear us!!“ Paimon whisper-shouted at me so I looked confused at her.

„Who Paimon? Who could hear us?“ I whispered back but Paimon just looked at the camp and I understood what she wanted to say.

„The group? What have they done Paimon?“ she pointed into a direction and I sneaked to the direction and saw Wolfie eating bones, human or hylian bones.

The others of the group looked at him and gathered the bloody clothes. They put them in a fabric bag but they were also very bloody if I see through the reflection right. Paimon hid her face in my shoulder and I held it there. Then Wolfie turned into Twilight?! I had my suspicions but never thought I was right. So I sneaked back to the camp.

„Are you crazy!? Why are you going back there!?“ she whisper shouted at me

„I need to get a sword they took mine for "maintenance" probably to make me defenseless!“ I said back and looked around the camp for a sword but the only one here was the Master Sword.

So I tiptoed to Sky and pulled the sword out of her sheath. As I got her I began to sprint into the opposite direction of the group.

„Wait, what about Sky? He is in danger if we leave him there with these lunatics!“ said Paimon worried but scared.

„No, he is one of them. Do you remember as everyone except for Wild went for "hunting"? They never came back with anything of the forest. No squirrels, no deer, no boar or even a bird, but they came back with a meat that was from a horse?“

„Is that why you said we shouldn't eat it!? You thought it was a person!?! Eeek!“

„Well not really, at first I thought they tried to poison us as we are not from Hyrule. I thought they saw us as a threat. But now I know they wanted us to help to get rid of the evidence.“ I explained everything but then Paimon jumped... Uh... floated higher in fear

„But they have Wolfie... Uhm Twilight... Uhhh... They have someone with a good nose! We will be discovered in the matter of days!! Or hours if they are back already.“

„That's why I look for mud. If we cover ourselves with it our scent will be overridden by the mud and he will not know where we are!“

„Good, Traveller. Paimon is scared...“

„I know Paimon. But don't worry, I protect you! I will get us back to Teyvat! I will find Aether! And never return to Hyrule!!“

„Who taught you to speak their language actually? Paimon is curious.“

„It was a knight in-training back then. Aether and I taught him some fast moves with the sword and he taught us his language. His name was "Link" like the boys back there.“

„Do you think they are related?“

„I think, it's more like they are his reincarnations. This eyes... I never forget how he looked at us and how they sparkled when we showed him something new. They have a part of him, I'm sure but thanks to their journeys and upbringings they developed differently than how he was.“ I sprinted more as I saw a mud pond and jumped in with Paimon.

I just bathed her but that doesn't matter right now. Our survival was more important than hygiene right now. I bathed us in mud before taking Paimon and ran into another direction but still away from the camp and the group. I just wished I had my abilities, if I had them I could fly away easily. But now I had to avoid all villages, towns, people, guards and especially the royals and the heroes. If one of them sees me, they will find us and I can't accept that! They scared Paimon to death!

„Spirit of the Sword, I know I'm not a hero of this world, I know I'm not even Hylian or from this world, but please, help me to flee from your crazy wielders!“ I thought to myself while the sword started to emit a blue glow and I saw multiple beacons in the in the horizon, but only I am able to see them as Paimon couldn't see them.

„Thank you, Sword Spirit. With that I can see the group in the distance and avoid them even better. I hope your ready, because I won't hold back when they try to catch and fight me!“ the sword blinked blue before going back to normal. Now I want to save her as well! She doesn't need a bunch of psychos as her wielders! I will take her with me to Teyvat, maybe she will like it and the gods over there are way nicer than Hylia.

This is how Reader's first attempt to flee and they were really good, especially with the beacon on the Hero's Spirit. But they will catch them eventually. Maybe in a dungeon or after entering a portal. But it would be funny if the Chain wouldn't be able to wield Fi anymore because Fi also fell in love with Reader. Just imagine a Yandere Sword Spirit. She may be asleep but her conscience is still awake. So the group would definitely delude themself into thinking that Reader woke up and got attacked. And as we all know Sky is a hibernating bear when he is asleep, took Fi to protect themself and Sky. But they will definitely notice that Paimon is more fidgety around them and that Reader and Paimon talk way more in teyvatian than usual. But they discarded it as soon as Reader mentiones that Paimon isn't feeling well, because of the shadow, which they believe as they can't understand that they plan to run away again but this time to Teyvat. Away from the group forever. But they get the meat for cooking for Paimon and themself and just said that the last meat they had with the group made Paimon sick and they don't want Paimon to feel sick all the time and as the group sees them as Paimon's parental figure so the boys try to fill the other spot, which is hard as hell as Paimon can't understand them and vice versa. Ughh... Why are Yanderes so crazy to handle?

OOOOHHH another genshin reader!!! lumine makes so much sense too - and also???? the way that she's been to hyrule BEFORE????? with aether albeit but she's visited before????????? AND MET A LINK BEFORE?????

Hell with the link described they met WARS before?????? it'd be an interesting take if that is the link - and he just hasn't joined the chain yet, reader could be why he ended up siding with them even

it's a shame the chain are so set on being controlling with them though - they really can be incredibly stupid at times, because sometimes there really are better ways to act. it's good for reader though they aren't like a frog being slowly boiled, they actually know to try to GTFO of the situation there

PLUS FI????? sweet baby yan sword spirit love them so, if they're a yan too though.... maybe there's a way to bond their sword to them... or something happens to their original blade so they can never use it again...

also poor paimon sfvdvgdfgvdszf never getting the chance to learn the language and is just lost there not understanding (i'd say teach em but they would probably let it slip they know the language)